Fearless (Mirrorworld 2)

Fox was at the mirror before he could grab her. She had the sack in her hand. His angry howl pierced her ears as she put her hand on the glass.

And then it was all gone.

The Goyl.

The enchanted palace.

Her entire world.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

THE OTHER SIDE

Fox turned around and Jacob took her hand. He remembered the feeling, that first time your own world disappeared and you found yourself in a different one. The dizziness. The question whether one was dreaming or awake. He was sorry he couldn’t give her more time.

Jacob pulled her away from the mirror and smashed the dark glass with his pistol handle. He hacked away at it until the silver frame held nothing but a few sharp-edged shards. Fox flinched with every strike, as though it were her world he was smashing to pieces. She clutched the sack with the crossbow, holding on to the only thing still connecting her to her world. Jacob was surprised the sack’s magic was still working.

‘Where are we?’ Fox whispered.

o;Really?’ Nerron stepped back and lifted the crossbow.

‘Let me shoot. Please!’ Fox’s desperate voice cut through the rush in Jacob’s head.

‘No.’ Nerron took aim. ‘How else can we prove this isn’t about love?’

Fox’s cry was stifled by the Waterman’s hand.

And the Goyl shot.

His aim was good. The bolt struck Jacob’s chest right where his blood was painting the moth on his shirt. The pain stopped his heart. Dead. You’re dead, Jacob. But he could hear his heart. Strong, and no longer stumbling. It hadn’t beat this regularly in a long time.

He opened his eyes and closed his fingers around the bolt that was sticking out of his chest. His heart hurt with every beat, but it was beating. And the wound did not bleed.

He gripped the bolt more firmly. His chest was numb, and he managed to pull it out with one tug. It didn’t hurt half as much as the moth’s bites, and the sharp point was clean, as though he’d pulled it out of a piece of wood instead of his own flesh.

The Bastard came towards him and took the bolt from his hand.

‘Let her go,’ he said to the Waterman.

Fox was shivering as she knelt down by Jacob’s side. Shivering with rage, fear, exhaustion. He wanted to take her away, far away from Bluebeard chambers and enchanted palaces.

Fox looked at him in disbelief as he got to his feet. The skin above his heart was flawless. Even the wound left by the moth had healed. He felt as young as on the first day he went treasure hunting with Chanute.

The Bastard looked at him with a wry smile. ‘That would also be a good story for the papers: Jacob Reckless has the Witch Slayer’s blood.’

He pulled a swindlesack over the crossbow and dropped the bolt into it.

Jacob looked at the mirror. The Bastard could be right, even if not exactly the way he thought.

‘You still want to sell the crossbow to Crookback, or did Louis ruin his father’s chances?’

Talk, Jacob. Play for time.

He’d made a promise to Dunbar.

Fox looked at him.

Two against two.