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“Strange,” Dugald says, raising his free hand and letting it hover a few inches away from the mirror frame. “It is powerful.”
I step around Duncan and walk closer, studying my reflection. Except it’s not quite me. There are wrinkles at the corners of my eyes, little crow’s feet that I’m sure aren’t that pronounced. Lines on my forehead and my hair is a slightly different shade, more red. There’s a lump at the bridge of my nose that I don’t have.
“That’s not…” I trail off, tilting my head. The reflection doesn’t tilt with me. Instead, it turns away.
“What is that?” Duncan exclaims.
Dugald looks from the reflection to me then back again.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “It cannot be.”
When the reflection turns back around, I know why it doesn’t match exactly. My stomach trembles like an earthquake is striking my bones. I almost can’t say it. The word catching on the lump in my throat, but I force it out at last.
“Mom?”
ChapterTwenty-Three
If names have power,then titles have even more. I don’t think most people consider words such as mom or dad to be a title, but if they’re not then what is? Becoming a parent is a responsibility, a set of demands that will remain with you for the rest of your life. Some run from that. Some embrace it. Some are terrible at it, and some are great, but one and all feel the call, no matter how they respond.
When I say her name or title, she jerks, looking side to side, then her eyes narrow and her attention focuses onto me. She’s staring out of the mirror with squinting eyes, then a shimmer passes over her body and her eyes widen.
“Quinn!” she exclaims, reaching towards me but her hand stops on her side of the mirror.
“Mom!”
My fingers touch cold glass instead of the warm flesh I desperately want to embrace. Mom shakes her head, frowning.
“Yuir nae supposed to be here,” she says.
The sound of her voice is a call to my childhood. It has a soft rasp to it as if she is an old smoker, but I never once saw her indulge in that habit. I don’t recall her having a Scottish accent, but there is no mistaking the tone.
“I am, Mom. I’m here to save you.”
She shakes her head, shifts, and the mirror ripples like water after a pebble is dropped into it. When the image stabilizes, she’s holding a book clutched to her chest. I move forward, stumbling as I do, but Duncan is at my side, keeping me upright.
Dugald looks from me to my mother and back. He’s standing to the side and I’m not sure if she can see him or not. There is a look of concern on his face but I’m not sure what he’s worrying about.
“No, Quinn.” Mom shakes her head and her wavy hair bounces as she does. “You can’t be in Scotland. Damn it, Dugald was supposed to keep you away.”
“I tried,” Dugald says.
“What do you mean you tried?” I snap, looking over to him, and my mother stares at the side frame of the mirror, following my own gaze.
Dugald shrugs, lips sealed as usual. If there’s one thing that will always separate Dugald and Duncan for me, it’s that Duncan is an open book. There are no secrets between us. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say the same about Dugald.
“Is he there?” Mom asks. “Dugald? Why is she here? Get her out of the country, now.”
“Mom, that’s not possible. I’m not only here, but this is where I belong,” I say.
She shifts her gaze back and the look on her face is the one reserved for when I was being particularly contrary. I only saw it a very few times because as a child it struck me with such fear and regret, I did my best to never make her look at me in this way again. Now, I’m an adult and I’m making my own decisions, but the memory of that fear is there. It doesn’t affect me nearly the way it did then, but it still gives me pause.
“Quinn, you can’t possibly understand the danger you’re in,” she says.
“I do, actually,” I say. “And I know you sacrificed yourself, but I’m sorry this is happening. I am the Destroyer. There is no avoiding it, and right now, the entire world has gone to hell. I’m the one hope of saving it, and if I’m not mistaken, I need that book you’re holding.”
She grimaces, looking down at the book, then back up.
“What do you mean it’s gone to hell?” she asks.
