Chapter Five

The Trap

Stone World

The siren whooped four times then fell silent, but Dorotea’s heart kept banging like a drum. Panic filled her in an icy rush. They were going to catch her.

Could she put the gargoyle back? Hide the incriminating collar and bracelets, then sneak back home—

Back to where Marta lay so still and broken on the pallet, barely breathing, head swathed in bandages. Back to where her mother was too quiet, face already etched with grief, and Martin kept glaring at Dorotea accusingly and asking for the tenth time just what she’d been doing in the tunnel that particular day.

No. She couldn’t give up, having come this far.

The siren had shut off, but she could hear another far-off sound like running water. Which was odd—they weren’t anywhere near the underground river. It didn’t matter. They had to move, now.

“Follow me,” she snapped at the gargoyle.

He bared his fangs. “You already said that. I can’t follow if you don’t lead,” he mocked her. His gold eyes shone in the red- and black-streaked stone of his face.

A flush washed over her cheeks. Hateful creature.

Dorotea stomped toward the exit. The gargoyle followed on her heels, looming over her. She swallowed, throat painfully dry. He was so large!

He couldn’t hurt her. The collar controlled him. Still, it took all her willpower not to run from those heavy footsteps.

The rushing sound grew as she neared the tunnel, and in a moment, she saw why. Dirty water poured in through two large pipes in the wall. Already, liquid lapped at the fourth step. The lower part of the tunnel was completely flooded. The water smelled strongly of minerals.

When the gargoyle stepped off the plinth, it had triggered this trap.

Fear howled through her. “Hurry.” Dorotea picked up her pace. As she reached the top step, she wished she were wearing proper Stone Heart clothes: snug leather trousers and a tunic. In contrast, Artisans dressed to showcase their skills. The dye for her turquoise dress was hard to prepare, a mixture of woad and vegetable dyes. It was pretty, but the dress would hinder her legs.

At least she knew how to swim. Her father had taught her over her mother’s protestations. Marta couldn’t. Dorotea had always meant to teach her when she was a little older.

Only now Marta might never get older. The cruel knowledge festered like a barb under her skin.

She inhaled sharply. Focus. She started down the staircase. The water was chilly, but not freezing. It was also brown and cloudy with silt. She disliked the thought of swimming in it, but it had to be done. And quickly. Before the waters rose past the level of the door.

The gargoyle hissed. “What are you doing? I can’t go into that.”

Dorotea rounded on him, fear making her voice sharp. “If you disobey me, you’ll suffer!” She held her breath at the first true test of her command over him.

“No.” He started to turn back, and the collar around his neck flamed brilliant gold with red sparks. The gargoyle screamed and dropped to his knees. He clawed at his throat.

Dorotea’s stomach twisted with nausea. If she’d eaten breakfast, she might have lost it. She hadn’t expected it to hurt him so much. All the stories painted gargoyles as beasts who lacked finer feeling. Was he faking? She told herself that he was made of stone; the collar wouldn’t do any permanent damage. Still, even knowing he wouldn’t hesitate to break her neck if given the chance, it was hard to watch his suffering. Why didn’t he just give in and obey?

His screams shredded her nerves. “Stop,” she cried, unable to stand it.

The collar subsided, but the gargoyle made no move to get up, gasping on the floor. She eyed the still-rising water anxiously.

“You have to obey me, understand? We have to get out of here. We’re running out of time.”

He lifted his head to glare at her. “Stupid sandspider—I’ll drown.”

Dorotea’s shoulders drew up at the slur. He was the animal, not her! “Never insult me again. You will call me ‘Mistress.’ And you can’t drown; you’re made of stone.” Could he? She stared at him, perplexed. He couldn’t swim, of course, but she’d assumed he could simply walk across the bottom of the growing lake and up the other side.

“Of course I can drown.”

“But you don’t breathe,” she exclaimed in frustration. “You probably hadn’t breathed for ten years before I woke you.”

“Stasis spell. I’m awake now, and I breathe.”

She stared at his sculpted chest, and indeed it did rise and fall beneath the slabs of muscle. “Well, what do you suggest? We have to pass through there.”

“Go another way.”

“This is the only entrance to the Cavern of Traitors.”

He blinked. “It is the Cavern of Gargoyles, and there may be only one entrance for humans, but I can travel through stone.”

Dorotea sneered back at him. “While you slept, the Elect coated the walls of this cavern with a plastic precisely so that your kind can’t travel through them. And the water will flood any tunnel you make out here.” She studied the water. “You’re taller than me. It will only be over your head for a few feet. Just run and hold your breath. Jump up when you need air.”

“Hold my breath. That’s your solution?”

“We don’t have time to argue. The water is rising. Follow me, now!” She splashed down the first four steps, then turned to make sure he’d obeyed her.

He took a step forward, and the tightness in her chest eased—he was going to be sensible—but then he stopped. His face contorted in agony as the collar flared back to life. He moved another few inches, until it stopped. Golden eyes searched hers. “How do I know you aren’t deliberately leading me to my death?” he gritted out.

She stared back at him and offered him stark truth. “I swear I’m not, on the life of my sister. I’ve risked everything in order to wake you.” Because she needed him to speak to the Goddess. Because without him, Marta was doomed.

He shuddered. “Very well. I’ll try.” He went down the first step, then quirked an eyebrow.

Right. In order for him to follow, she had to lead.

Dorotea waded down another two steps, up to her waist, shivering in the chill. Her sodden skirts clung to her legs. They would be a dangerous hindrance. She reached between her legs and pulled the back panel of the skirt forward and up, tucking it into her belt to form crude trousers. The water reached her neck before the last step. She struck out clumsily for the staircase on the other side. Thankfully, the lights perched above the water line, reflecting in bright splashes.

A third of the way across, she stopped and treaded water. The gargoyle was still standing on the staircase. The water lapped at his chest.

They could be caught at any moment. Anger surged through her. “Now!” she barked.

As if pushed from behind, the gargoyle splashed down the remaining steps. The water came up to his chin.

Dorotea stroked again. The ends of her hair drifted on top of the water. “What are you waiting for? It’s only going to get deeper!”

More slowly than she liked, he pushed through the pool. After only five feet, the water was touching his lips.

Worry gnawed at Dorotea. The water was still rising, and they still had twenty-five feet to go. “Stand on your tiptoes!”

He glared at her. “I am.” He took another stride and spit out a mouthful of water. “It’s going to be over my nose soon.”

“So jump up to take a breath every two steps.”

He balked. “I’ll have water in my eyes. I won’t know which way to go.”

That she could do something about. She swam over to him. “I’ll hold your hand. Go in the direction I pull you. Or you could stay here and drown.”

Another glare. He gulped in a deep breath and moved forward, plowing through the water. His eyes remained visible for a moment, then his head disappeared underneath the muddy water.

Dorotea side-stroked and guided his arm.

He took a step, then suddenly yanked down on her hand. Unprepared, her head slipped below the surface of the water. She tried to free herself, but he wouldn’t let go, stone fingers crushing her own. Then he shot up through the water so suddenly, he almost broke her nose. He gasped in a breath, then sank. This time, he held his hand over his head, so she didn’t get dunked.

She sputtered and coughed, trying to clear her throat, and tugged forward again.

They covered half the distance in this fashion but then hit a deeper pocket. Their joined hands were now underwater, and when the gargoyle jumped, he didn’t break the surface. She pulled up, but he was too heavy. His weight dragged her down.

She let go of his hand and swam up to the surface.

“Keep walking!” Tension cramped her stomach. She studied the water anxiously. Unconsciously, she held her breath.

(look at your reflection)

The odd words slid into her mind as if whispered by her intuition. Beneath her wild-looking reflection, she glimpsed the gleam of red jasper in the brown water. Was he still moving? Had she made a mistake in not listening when he told her he’d drown? She couldn’t bear the thought of having come so far and broken so many taboos, only to fail before she’d even had a chance to fix things. And the thought of having caused his death, gargoyle or not, made her ill.

Bubbles rose to the surface. Yes! He was still moving. “Come on, come on,” she chanted, swimming alongside him.

He jumped again but fell short of breaking the surface. His flailing arm caught her leg, and his fingers fastened around her ankle. He plummeted back down through the silty water, towing her with him.

Terror jolted through her. The gargoyle didn’t need to breathe. It had all been a trick to get her underwater where she couldn’t order him to let her go. He meant to drown her.

Frantically, Dorotea kicked his head. Pain shot through her heel, but her blow had no effect on him.

Inexorably, he pulled her close to his face. She slitted her eyes; in the murky water, she could barely make out the golden gleam of his eyes.

She tried to shout, “Let go!” but he yanked her close. She expected his fangs to tear out her throat, but instead, he sealed his hard lips over hers.

(give him your breath; he needs air)

Dorotea obeyed the strange impulse, blowing into his mouth. Instantly, he released her back to the surface. Her long hair hung in her face in limp strands, and her body shuddered, from the chill or the shock. Confusion muddled her thoughts. Why had he let her go, instead of getting his revenge by ensuring she drowned with him?

(help him take him another breath)

Fear made her hesitate. What if this time he didn’t let go? Even if he didn’t purposely try to drown her, he might still panic and hold her under too long.

But he wouldn’t be in danger if not for her. She was responsible for his life. And she needed his help.

She took three deep breaths, then dove back into the silty water.

It was impossible to see, so she felt with her arms, moving them in wide sweeps. Her fingers grazed stone. Seconds later, a hand closed around her wrist.

As before, the gargoyle pulled her close in a weird parody of a kiss. She didn’t resist as his stone mouth closed over hers again. His lips were hard but not bruising. She blew in the breath she’d taken, and he boosted her up to the surface again.

Five more shared breaths took them to the second staircase. Dorotea tugged him forward. “Almost there…”

The water stirred, and then the gargoyle’s head emerged. He climbed to the top of the steps, and the two of them sat side by side, gasping in great lungfuls of air.

The water sheeted off his stone surface, but she felt bedraggled. She untucked her skirts and squeezed out as much of the excess water as she could.

“Thank you,” he said unexpectedly. “For giving me breath. For coming back for me.” His golden eyes warmed.

Dorotea smiled back at him in shared triumph—only to cringe under the hot lash of embarrassment. What was she thinking? He’s a gargoyle. My enemy. A monster. If he realized that she didn’t want to hurt him, she would lose control. “You’re no good to me at the bottom of a pool,” she said shortly.

His expression hardened again.

Dorotea felt wretched, as if she’d hurt his feelings, but that just sent her around the treadmill again, because gargoyles shouldn’t have feelings. Gargoyles were beasts and monsters—everyone knew that. He must be faking it somehow.

Angry with herself and him, she squelched over to the metal door. Water lapped at the bottom panel. She worried that the door’s tight seal was all that was keeping the water from flooding all the caverns. What would happen when she opened it?

Another strange knob of metal protruded on this side of the door. As before, Dorotea pushed, pulled, and jiggled it, but this time there was no panel to light up. She shivered, looking with misgivings at the water still pouring out of the pipes.

Did the same mechanism that flooded the tunnel also lock the door? Would they both drown here, after all?

With a hiss of impatience, the gargoyle reached past her and grasped the knob. He twisted it to the right, then, with a grunt, pushed the door open.

Water sluiced over the door’s bottom lip and gurgled down a large drain set in the floor. Dorotea sighed in relief. She hadn’t flooded the caverns. Whoever had designed the trap had made sure the overflow would be contained.

“Now where?” the gargoyle asked. The dust had been washed from his stone surface, and the red jasper gleamed. It was almost…pretty.

Dorotea wrung water out her sleeves. “Now we go to the Cathedral, so you can speak to the Goddess.”

He opened his mouth, showing his fangs. “Why?”

To beg for my sister’s life. “That’s my business,” Dorotea said curtly. “Follow me.”

…

Fire World

The connection between Leah and her Stone otherself broke when Dorotea left the pool of water behind. Leah lowered her aching arm and collapsed on the bare floor of the Mirrorhall. She ignored the fine layer of black ash that blew in through the slitted window and covered everything.

Exhaustion tugged at her, as if all her clothes had weights sewn into them. She lay down on the pallet. Sleep claimed her the moment she closed her eyes but didn’t bring her the peace she needed.

She dreamed she was being burned alive. First her clothes charred and flaked away; then her skin began to burn.

Except it wasn’t skin; it was scales. Black dragon scales. The dragon floated before her in a sea of orange.

“Save me,” the dragon pleaded with Gideon’s voice. “Save me. It burns.”

Pain licked at her skin, and they screamed together—

Leah woke up sobbing. The nightmare was nonsense—the dragon had died of an arrow wound, not in fire—but daylight didn’t banish it. Because Gideon was dead, and she had failed to save him. She should never have let Qeturah near him, and she should have kept him far from the army.

She threw back the covers and began to pace. Up and down the Mirrorhall, her regrets keeping pace with her—

(look in the mirror)

Leah blinked. A slow pulse of curiosity induced her to approach the Four Worlds mirror. Her gaze connected with her reflection in the ice mirror. “Holly?”

Her otherself on the Water World wore Leah’s face, but her hair was shorter, only shoulder-length, and had a streak of pink mixed into the brown. And then there were her strange clothes—a thin shirt and snug blue trousers called “jeans.”

(hi, Leah. just checking in. you hungry? I brought you some stuff.) Holly held up a bottle and wiggled it enticingly.

Leah swallowed. Water was difficult to come by in Fire World, especially since the cataclysm. What water remained in the village well was covered with a scum of ash.

Holly licked her fingers and wet the bottle cap. Leah fumbled for her belt knife and nicked her thumb. She pressed the bleeding digit to the mirror, melting through a small circle until she could grasp the water bottle and pull it through.

Holly pushed through four more bottles and several plastic-wrapped packages: two sandwiches and a chocolate bar.

Leah uncapped the bottle and drank half the contents in great, delicious gulps. The parched tissues of her throat soaked in the sensation.

“Thank you.” Without the supplies, especially the water, Leah would have had to leave Qeturah’s tower and the Four Worlds mirror in search of sustenance. Not only would Leah be at risk in the war-torn land, but away from the Mirrorhall, she would’ve been unable to keep watch on Stone World and Air World. Qeturah would have been free to wreak havoc.

(no problem. it’s the least I can do. I remember how isolated you are from when I was trapped in your body.) Holly settled into a cross-legged position. (go ahead and eat,) she urged. (you must be hungry.)

Was Leah hungry? When was the last time she’d eaten? Her stomach growled, the sound shockingly loud. How long had she stood sentinel in front of the mirror? She’d lost track of time.

She opened some of the plastic-wrapped food Holly had generously provided. In her time on Water World, Leah had eaten sandwiches, but they still tasted peculiar to her—bread, cheese, salad greens, and shaved meat all together in one mouthful—but she methodically chewed and swallowed, alternating bites with glorious pulls of pure water.

(so how’s the search going? have you found out where Her Evilness is hiding yet?)

Leah shook her head. “I haven’t seen any sign of Qeturah or her otherself. But Stone has few reflective surfaces. It takes hours to make a connection, and then it’s swiftly lost.”

(well, be sure to Call if you need help. I want to stop Qeturah just as much as you do.)

Leah nodded, but inside, she doubted her otherself’s commitment. Not that she blamed her. Holly had Ryan; her soul mate had survived. Holly had less to avenge and more to lose. Other than the drive to stop Qeturah and save Gideon’s otherselves, Leah had nothing.

Without the spur of revenge, she might lay down and wait for death. Leah pushed away the memory of just how close she’d come to doing that.

(so what’s she like? our Stone self?)

Leah tried to think of how to answer. “I don’t know. She seems very purposeful and angry, but I’m not sure what she means to accomplish or why she feels that way.”

(did you see Ryan and Gideon’s otherself? have they met yet? our otherselves on Stone and Air, and their soul mates, I mean.)

“Yes, I’m almost certain she was with him.”

(almost certain? don’t they look alike?) Holly tilted her head, puzzled.

“He wasn’t in his human form.”

(ohhh… so what was he? if Ryan’s a siren and Gideon was a dragon, what’s Stone’s mythological creature?)

“She called him a gargoyle.”

Holly’s brows lifted. (huh. I guess that makes sense.)

“Do you know of gargoyles?” Leah asked eagerly. “What can you tell me?” She’d never heard of them.

Holly made a face. (not much. here on Earth—I mean, Water—they’re ugly stone statues that perch on old buildings. they sometimes have wings. we have stories of them coming to life, but they’re supposedly just fantasies.)

“He didn’t have wings,” Leah said, then lapsed back into silence, thinking. What little she’d seen on Stone disturbed her. What was her otherself up to? Unease itched at her. Gideon’s otherself had almost drowned because of her otherself’s stubbornness. Leah didn’t understand why he hadn’t just changed into a boy and floated.

Why had he entered the water, if it was so dangerous and he so clearly didn’t want to? It had almost seemed as if her otherself were forcing him. Hurting him.

That couldn’t be right, could it?

After the debacle with Holly, Leah had sworn not to use her ability to take over her otherselves’ bodies—just to watch and warn if need be, but that vow had limits. She would not tolerate Dorotea abusing Gideon’s otherself.

(I should get going.) Holly stood up. (take care, okay? don’t get so caught up in revenge you forget to eat.)

Resentment burned in Leah’s belly. Easy for Holly to say. She was probably on her way to meet Ryan right now. He was alive for her to touch and talk to and kiss.

Holly’s image vanished.

Determined, Leah stood and Called on her reflection in the mirror of beaten gold, but Dorotea didn’t answer. She’d probably moved away from the water’s reflective surface and thus out of mirror range.

Restlessness clawed at Leah, and she began to pace. She knew Holly was right, that days might pass before she even located Qeturah, and she needed to sleep, but she just couldn’t right now. Not yet.

She’d lie down soon, but first, she wanted to quickly check in on her Air otherself, the one who had hair as short as a boy’s.

Leah put her hand on the glass pane and Called again.

“Find a mirror. Look into a mirror.”