Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

In the moment when the silver steam from the spell was still dissipating and obscuring the mirror, Grandmother shoved me out of the way. Away from Arcadis's notice.

A small yowl escaped Sawyer as he clung on tight, and I hissed as his claws bit into my shoulder. Aunt Eranthis quickly collected me and held me still outside the mirror's field of view, Grandmother smoothly stepping to the center to command Arcadis's full attention. Around us, the rest of the family continued the summoning incantation in a low hum, keeping the connection strong and intact. Their eyelids were half-lowered, green magic glowing under their lashes.

Before the mirror, Grandmother spread her hands out to her sides in a gesture of weaponless goodwill. "Arcadis," she began in a soothing voice.

"I want to talk to the thief," he snapped. "It is her or no one, Iris Hawthorne. And I know the strain this kind of spell is having on your coven. Make. Haste ."

Swallowing to maintain her composure, Grandmother inclined her head slightly and stepped off to the side. A flick of her fingers told me to present myself before the mirror. Immediately.

Not wanting Sawyer to draw any unwanted attention, I peeled the cat from my shoulder and dropped him to the ground. The tomcat quickly hunched low in the dead grass and leaves, Dart swooping down to hide in his fur, and I stepped in front of the mirror.

Arcadis's crimson eyes flared scarlet, illuminating his high cheekbones and the curve of his horns. He appeared just as I'd remembered him in Victorian aristocratic garb, the necktie tight enough to strangle him. "What is your name, thief?"

Off to the side, Grandmother gave me a warning shake of her head. I dimly remembered something from one of Mom's lessons about never giving your name to the fae. Names held power, after all.

"What is your name , thief?" Arcadis roared.

The fae's voice held power, just like Grandmother's, just like my own, compelling my answer. "M-Misty!" I blurted out.

The demon's upper lip curled in satisfaction. "Misty Hawthorne," he purred. "You're a troublesome little thing, aren't you? First my hellhound, then my half-heart, and now you've stolen my ring. And all before you've become initiated. Someone like you bodes ill for the Unseelie Court."

I didn't say anything, not even knowing how to respond to that. But I did my best to keep from looking like a cornered rabbit. I was a Hawthorne, after all, and a force to be reckoned with if you believed the prophecy.

"Best tread carefully then," I finally said. While I had to link my hands behind my back to keep him from noticing the trembling in my fingers, internally I was giving myself a high-five for sounding like such a boss.

"That was not a compliment," he rejoined flatly.

I shrugged. "It's open to interpretation."

To my surprise, Arcadis flashed a feral smile. "Such sass. Perhaps you're an Unseelie changeling instead. If that's truly the case, a simple command from your elder will be sufficient enough: Give me my ring ."

"Give me my brother," I countered immediately.

His expression soured, obviously having hoped for the easy way out. Then his face hardened, all the angles of his cheekbones and carved mouth and jawline sharpening enough to cut glass. "Marten Hawthorne is payment—"

"You have a choice, Arcadis," I interrupted irritably, really leaning into that boss persona. "You can satisfy your fragile little ego and keep my brother as your personal punching bag, or you can get your ring back."

"I get my ring back, I'm coming for you," he snarled.

I lunged at the mirror then, eyes glowing a fearsome green. "Try it."

His scarlet eyes narrowed. Assessed me. Then he favored me with an oily smile.

I tried to keep my skin from crawling as I straightened. This demon's mood swings had me on anxious tiptoe.

"Marten's imprisonment is the consequence of a broken contract," he began, congenially this time. "It is binding. I cannot simply give him back, not even for the ring."

It was suddenly very hard to breathe, to think, to even get my heart to beat. This ring was our bargaining chip! How could it not be worth enough to get my brother back for my mistakes?

"Buuut…" the demon drawled.

Cocking an eyebrow, I waited for him to explain.

"In order to satisfy the contract and release your brother—"

"Return my brother to the mortal world and his family, you mean," I clarified, remembering that fae bargains had to be specific.

The corner of his left eye twitched at that, and the congeniality of his voice momentarily fled as he continued, "And return your brother to the bosom of your coven, you must offer something of greater value in addition to my ring."

Off to the side of the mirror, Grandmother shook her head again. Behind her, our family continued to chant. They no longer stood up straight; their shoulders were hunched from the strain of maintaining the spell, the glow in their eyes flickering as their power ebbed.

Arguing with Arcadis would only prolong their struggle to keep this connection open. A quick and fair resolution was needed here. What was the harm in hearing the demon out, anyway?

"What did you have in mind?" I asked Arcadis.

"A portal mirror."

A portal mirror? Was it really that easy? I seized the edge of the frame. "What about this one we're using right now?"

The demon rolled his eyes. "No, idiot. The Samildánach."

I ignored the insult. "What is that?"

"The Wandering Mirror? The Eternal Door?" Arcadis snorted at my confused expression. "It's only one of the most famous unrestricted portals between all the realms."

I could've done without the condescension and worked to keep the irritation from my voice. "And where would I find that?"

"In Elfame, obviously."

Having never heard the term, I flicked my gaze to Grandmother. Her curt nod confirmed she knew where or what that was.

"How do I get there?"

"That is not my concern, witch," Arcadis snapped, obviously at the end of his patience with my ignorance. "Do you agree?"

It was my turn to be snappish. "Phrase the bargain correctly and maybe I will."

"I, Arcadis, will consider Marten Hawthorne's debt to me paid in full if both my ring and the Samildánach are delivered to me by the zenith of the winter solstice. Should these two goods be delivered to me by the appointed time, I will return him to the mortal world alive and unharmed." He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow. "Good enough?"

I wet my lips, trying to think if there was a hole in that argument, and blurted, "I don't have a way of contacting you with the Samildánach! This echo disperses at midnight."

Arcadis extended his hand. "Put the ring on and stick your hand through the mirror."

Aunt Eranthis immediately shook her head. "Void monsters," she mouthed to me.

What choice do I have? my eyes told her as I lifted the ring from the chain with Arthur's pendant. Slipping it onto my finger, I curled that hand into a fist to keep the ring secure and gulped in a breath.

"If I do that, how do I know you'll not chop of my hand and take the ring?" I asked the demon.

He rolled his eyes. "Because it must be returned freely to me. I cannot simply take it."

Though I just wanted to punch my hand through the mirror to get it over with quickly, second thoughts had me suspecting the mirror was like a crystal—it was better to go slow, to feel it out, in case it was charged with magic that would have me sprawling on my fanny.

The surface was cold to the touch, though that could've just been from the night air, and dimpled beneath the slight pressure of my knuckles. The mirror didn't ripple, for it hadn't become liquid, merely allowed my hand to pass with barely a wrinkle in its surface. But what was eerier still was the fact I could see my fist with the glowing ring on my finger on the opposite side of this In-Between, stretching towards Arcadis. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that while my fist should be extending past the mirror and into the open space behind it in the forest clearing, it very much was not.

A shudder wracked through me as Arcadis reached out and enclosed my hand in both of his. His touch was surprisingly gently, and he flashed a wicked smile at me when I jumped in surprise. "Oh yes, little witch," he purred. "I know when to use force and when a lighter touch is needed."

His skin was warm while the flesh where I made contact with the mirror was decidedly cool. Arcadis's crimson eyes held my gaze as his thumbs swept lazy circles over the back of my hand, tilting the wrist so the ring faced upwards. Maintaining his stare, he bent down and kissed the ring, his lips enveloping the gold band and pressing moistly against my fingers.

CREEP! my whole body shouted.

When the ring reemerged, the white diamonds had become like rubies. Arcadis still held my hand, his thumbs still lazily caressing, and said, "A portal will open for you alone now, Misty, so long as you have the Wandering Mirror. You have until the zenith of the winter solstice, little witch."

It took every ounce of my willpower and then some not to yank my hand out of his and thrust it into a pot of boiling water to sanitize it. "I understand."

"Now accept my bargain, little thief. Say the words."

"I accept."

Though we were in two different realms, the same puff of wind blew against our faces, ruffling our hair and sealing our bargain.

Finally, finally , he let go, and I extracted my fist, the coolness of the mirror wicking away his heat and the imprint of his lips. I swept it behind my back and rubbed it against my sweater, just to be sure.

We didn't say goodbye. Arcadis simply gave me a sharp nod, took a step back, and the mirror turned black.