Chapter Twenty-Five - Tammy

  “Turn it up.”

  Bone clacked against plastic as the show edged up a few notches, sound-wise. Enough to drown out the low, repeated, pleas from Scully. Mini, my great skeletal partner in crime, had taken whole-heartedly to helping me forget about my fuckup. Which meant cartoons – since apparently he didn’t just watch soap operas – and alcohol that I definitely hadn’t bought.

  I was coming out of the drunken haze now, unsure how long it had been. The constant, burning, itching pain in my branded palm made it hard to luxuriate in the buzz. I knew what it was from. How could I not? Getting drunk with the boney bird wasn’t exactly a way to help Teresa. When I wasn’t trying to help her, the brand would heat up. How had the Lady put it?

  “Regardless of where you tread it will shape you.”

  Cryptic bullshit is what it was. The heat on it was a lot different than what the bracelet left – more painful and more direct. Less of an aftereffect, more of an intended reminder. Best guess I had was that the bracelet just didn’t care and the heat was from it starting to turn on. With the brand, though, it was a reminder that I was making a conscious choice that would have lasting repercussions. It still read Betrayer, but I had a gut-deep feeling that the rune could shift if I followed through and set myself onto a path.

  That was a problem for a Tammy that could understand things better. Barely-sober Tammy that had woken up drunk and stayed awake munching on chips and sipping water through the hangover was where I was now. And that me was currently at their breaking point, finally lifting the half-closed pocket mirror up from the table to meet the judging eyes of the broken monster that was supposedly my family’s guardian spirit.

  Alyssa had said that, before I screwed up and drove her off yesterday. She’d run with tears in her eyes, the pain vying with something that wasn’t quite hunger. Or that was, just not in a way that sustenance could sate. Rita had commented, too. About how I was there without her. As if she’d come with me before?

  I still didn’t know what she even was. How had she ended up in the mirrors? How had she known Grandpa? What had been going on with the hand in the matriarch’s study, and why did she seem so…broken?

  “Lady Blackleaf. This is an important matter – pay attention.”

  Something shocked me, a spark of twisted mana arcing out of the glass and into my finger. The jolt sent the last leftovers of my binge falling away, along with what felt like half of my internal organs as goosebumps sprang up, instantly. Whatever that spell was, even my nausea fell away so that nothing but guilt and nerves could cloud my mind as I looked down at the ethereal woman where my reflection should have been.

  She looked even creepier than usual, shrunk down to fit in the makeup mirror. There weren’t any others facing the right direction in the living room right now, and with the blinds closed this was the only option I’d given her, since she wouldn’t take over the TV when Mini was here.

  Her dress was looking more defined. Faded patterns on the fabric, limbs that actually looked and moved like a limb should. There wasn’t a sign of the clawed metal or the seeping leaves that I could see, and the stains that had been there that first night were gone.

  …oh she was starting to look angry. The shock this time was louder, an arc of black-tinged grey that twisted out of the edge of the mirror and then down to the bracelet on my wrist. For the first time, I watched it visibly shift, moving out of the way so the power grounded into my skin with enough pain to make me flinch back.

  “An unregistered entity is approaching the manor. Your input is required.”

  “Uh – ok? Didn’t I say you could handle things how you thought best?”

  Her face flickered. More of a petulant frown than a glower, at least as far as I was starting to understand her face. “Extenuating circumstances. I am not now, nor have I ever, been cleared to act in situations like this when a lockdown has not been initiated.”

  “Tell me about them?” I sighed, setting the mirror down where I could see it and rubbing at the scorch mark on my wrist as I took a sip of water.

  Her face went back to the passive illusion. “They appear to be human. Female based on apparel and mannerisms, between thirty-three and thirty-six years of age. Approximately twelve pounds higher than optimal for their body structure, as recorded in Initiative-approved reference materials. Mana sig…”

  “Too specific! I don’t need to know that. Tell me – let’s see – anything relevant to why they’re here and who they work for?”

  “Broadcast credentials are consistent with handbooks provided to the Initiative for verifying agents sent by the Paranormal Incidents Division of the United States of America. Equipment suggests a field agent or liaison – no indications match recovered wetwork teams from…”

  I waved a hand and she actually stopped. That was new. Usually I needed to talk to her. The mention of the government drove home that I’d never actually looked at the message they’d sent. I told her to put it on my desk if it was important, but nothing had ever showed up. Unless…

  “Are they walking up? Driving? Uh, teleporting, flying, whatever?”

  The door to Grandpa’s bedroom was ajar. The desk in there was just as neatly organized as last time, nothing I didn’t recognize on it. I clicked the door shut, pushing down the surge of sadness, and then bounded up the stairs to the next floor. The one with the secret room.

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  “They are traveling on foot from the designated arrival point for supplicants.”

  Scully was bouncing across the mirrors as I moved, since I’d rehung most of them after finding her. She brought a hand up, the mist around her coiling in and then resolving into an overhead view of a prim woman in a suit, a briefcase in one hand and a badge at her chest. The sound of wind and nature poured through, birds starting to chirp as the sun came up outside. And under it, clear as day, I could hear her swearing to herself about heels and gravel.

  She was only a quarter of the way up the drive. I had a bit of time. The secret door clicked open as I hip checked the paneling. It looked empty without all the boxes of books we’d removed, and I knew for a fact that we’d cleaned everything but the skeletal ravens off the desk. Now both were gone, and a neat pile of paperwork sat on its scratched, wax-stained surface. Peeking out from under an unreadable scroll covered in intricate, multicolored curling script was an envelope with an obvious government seal and angry red letters on it.

  I pulled it out of the stack, wary of how some of the text on the scroll started to glow as I reached forward, and ripped it open. The text swam a little as I went back to the hall. I hadn’t really slept, had I? And everything was stained…

  “Shit. This is too wordy. Scully, could you summarize it? Also – please let me use this mirror and talk from the next one.”

  Fuck. FUCK. I’d just been ignoring the government agency that literally had standardized paperwork to cover up disappearances. People acted like they couldn’t touch me, but what if…

  “That letter repeats multiple spurious demands that are made based on improper interpretations of past concessions made out of convenience. It appears that the lack of a response has both infuriated and emboldened them – I assure you, Lady Blackleaf, you are not required to treat with an unannounced guest, or to acquiesce to demands for taxation, tithes, wergild, or the surrender of portions of the Initiative’s collection held within my Archive.”

  I had time to change shirts and throw on something that wasn’t sweat pants. Maybe five minutes – not enough to shower or really fix my hair. The mirror wasn’t useful anymore, and again, Scully followed me down to my room. Her projection faded out as I took off my shirt.

  “What?”

  Silence answered. I remembered my last order to her. “You can talk while I’m changing for now. Please tell me what they were asking about. Taxes I get, but wergild? Surrendering things?”

  Her voice came back, clearly annoyed, yet not at me.

  “They seek to rely on the naivete of the Lady Blackleaf to trust in established structures. The government they represent holds no legitimate claim to the manor ground, much less the extraplanar holdings that are your birthright. Seventeen separate provisions across four binding agreements are violated in their insistence of a right to repossess currency, artifacts, and materials prohibited under their jurisdictions. Rest assured – all sites and possessions remain secured. Losses are not compensable, and objections regarding their efforts are on file with the Initiative and relevant metaphysical arbiters. Cleanup within affected realities was completed…”

  I cut her off as I threw on the least-wrinkly blouse I could find. It might’ve actually been Teresa’s at one point with how tight it was around the chest. I didn’t really have any clean pants – shorts would have to do.

  Anyway, I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the rest of that. If I’d inherited an active conflict with the government, I was fucked no matter what people said about them being hesitant to touch me or how carefully I kept from dipping into dangerous magic.

  “Scully, please. I get that you’re upset about this. If they’re trying to push us around, they’re in the wrong. But I’m not my grandpa. You know that, right? I…I can’t fight them over it. So, what should I do?”

  “You are the Lady Blackleaf. It has always…no. No. You are not ****? Where is ****? What…”

  Her voice broke. There wasn’t a mirror with her face or the projected agent in it convenient to look into as that sharp crackling built, going from vocal fry to unintelligible barks that hurt my ears. Then, with a sound like shattering glass, the house…

  Twisted.

  It was like reality turned ninety degrees all at once. The lights blinked out, and a sheet of glowing darkness fell across the sunlight that should’ve streamed in from the window. I fell sideways onto the bed, bashing my arm into the headboard with a gasp.

  “W??????????????????????H?????????????????????????O????????????????.??????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????A??????????????R??????????????????????????E?????????????????.??????????????????????? ???????????????Y????????????O????????????????????U??????????.???????????”

  Something writhed in the darkness of the window. It spilled out, dripping from the threshold as the room began to shake. It brought with it the stale musk of rotting leaves and a sharp, coppery tang. The air itself pressed down around me, heavy and hostile, as if it was trying to pin my head to the bed. I could just barely lift it enough to see the glowing silver discs and two clearly broken wings where the glass should have been.

  Something dripped out of the light overhead. It hit the bed next to me with the sound of tearing cloth. I started to babble, all thoughts about getting presentable forgotten.

  “Scully? Scully! It’s me, Tammy, remember? Lady Blackleaf? Olaf’s granddaughter. You…”

  Amidst the shaking and the dripping and the writhing background of thrashing wind, my door creaked open. There, nudging it forward with a wing that shouldn’t have been strong enough, was a raven. Stark white bones nearly glowed in the darkness, a shroud of ghostly skin and feathers trailing in flashes behind Mini as he hopped inside.

  He opened his beak, and for the first time, made a sound. A caw that echoed like the room were a hundred times bigger. Harsh, creaking, and unending. The sound made things thrash in the dark. It hurt to hear. Even my eyes were starting to vibrate as it built and built and built until something…

  Snapped.

  It stopped. Scully vanished, light came flooding back, and my door clicked shut leaving the room quiet and still. No corrupted babbling darkness. No dripping. No pressure but the overwhelming thought about what might have just happened. When I finally managed to stand and look around, my room was normal, save for a faint stain beneath the window and a swathe of holes next to my head where the blanket had corroded.

  Wait – no. There was a crack in the window. It went right down the middle, something subtly different about the two sides. The trees and the sky didn’t line up. It was….

  It was a distraction I couldn’t afford, since I could see the government agent walking up to the porch now. I was out of time and needed to get the fuck down there.