He started up the stairs without a word. Mick paused after a couple of steps to trace a sigil on the wall, whispering a few words. The sigil glowed before vanishing, sinking protective magic into the building.
As I passed, I touched the rune he’d drawn, feeling the familiar tingle of his magic. My heart warmed. I added a spark to the ward myself and continued up the stairs.
Mick stopped every few steps and repeated the marking, putting his protection into the walls, which I then added to. The magic he was using was nowhere near his dragon power, but even so, the bite of it was intense.
“Where is the magic coming from?” I asked him hesitantly. “I thought …”
Mick reached the top of the stairs and swung around, sparks in his eyes. “I was born of earth magic, dragon long before I was ever man. Even if a spell took me away from the dragon, the earth magic is still in me. It can’t ever not be a part of me.” His eyes glittered, sharp with anger. “The same with you. It’s forever ingrained.” Mick turned away and gave a shrug. “Besides,” he rumbled. “I learn things.”
I turned to Drake, my throat tight, as Mick made his careful way along the gallery. Drake was incongruous in Mick’s clothes—jeans and black T-shirt. I thought he looked better in the informalwear, but by Drake’s dark stare, I knew he wouldn’t agree with me.
“What happened with Bancroft?” I asked him, to distract myself from the hollowness in my heart. “You survived, obviously.”
“I drove him off.” Drake looked unhappy. “Bancroft was injured and withdrew from battle. Needless to say, I am out of a job. I turned on my master, and that is unforgivable.”
I let my anger grow. “You turned on your master to save a friend.”
“That does not signify. Loyalty is prized above all else. I violated that rule.”
“He violated my rules of killing people I love,” I said hotly. “Besides, none of this might have happened in the reality we’re trying to get back to. You’ll return to your job as usual.”
Drake lifted his shoulders in a smooth, dragonlike shrug. “No, I will not. I thought Bancroft and Aine wrong tonight and even cruel. I might have to withdraw my services when we return.”
“Quit, you mean? You can do that?”
“I was never compelled to work for Bancroft.” Drake looked annoyed. “I applied for the job and took it of my own free will. Bancroft has had my full loyalty for many years. But now … I will have to think.”
“Can I point out that none of this is real? When I woke up last time, it was as though nothing in my dream had happened. I forgot the details pretty quickly.”
“Who can say what is real?” Drake asked, sounding mournful. “Bancroft and Aine behaved true to their natures. I have looked the other way at their high-handedness for a long time, because it was my job to do so. But I will have to think on whether I can remain with them or not.”
I left Drake to wrestle with his conscience and followed Mick around the gallery to the next set of stairs. I stepped lightly, making sure he’d finished walking across the boards before I attempted them myself.
The door to the next flight of stairs was locked, but Mick easily kicked it open. Wooden steps ran upward, Mick testing every one with his weight as he went. Graffiti marred the walls of the stairwell, kids having used the abandoned building to meet and party.
At the top of the stairs, another door opened to a set of rooms that took up half the space as the floor below it. A door on the opposite side of the largest room led to a flat roof, where Mick and I liked to sit of nights and gaze at the stars.
Mick stopped me with a strong hand before I could run to the old desk and the junk I’d found behind it. When I looked at him in surprise, he gave an emphatic shake of his head.
“If another mage has taken control of the mirror, he could kill us with it. Stand back.”
“And let you take the full brunt? No way. Mick, you have to stop protecting me.”
Mick shot me a grin that held his old fire. “You know that’s an argument you’re never going to win.”
He more or less shoved me behind him and tugged aside the desk without much effort. Behind it lay a beat-up painting and the heavy frame of the magic mirror, facing the wall. Mick seized the frame in his big hands and turned it around …
“What—?” I ran forward, and this time Mick didn’t stop me.
The frame looked the same, a gilded thing from the 1890s, its gold leaf flaking off. But it was empty, holding nothing but blank space.
Chapter Eighteen
I stared, dumbfounded. Mick slammed the frame back into the wall, sending more flakes of gilt drifting to the floor.