Raven Chapter 8 Krakens, Care, and Crystal Arches 84 #4
Satisfied that the security system will keep him safe for a few minutes, I sink through the building until I reach the transport room.
I can hear Silas puttering around next door, no doubt buried in preparations for tomorrow's mission—making sure the guys have an untraceable way in and out of Hell's Bend.
He's brilliant. Possibly insane. And he checks out my guys' butts way too much. I get it—they're great butts—but they're mine .
But he's not who I'm looking for. Nope. The one I'm here for is this big beauty right in front of me.
"Hello, gorgeous." I smile at the behemoth of a mirror. It's taller and wider than even Anik, which is saying something.
The gold frame glitters in the low light, the tiny gems inlaid into its intricately knotted metalwork twinkling like the universes under Jim's skin.
No one knows who made it or how it truly works—not even Silas, the warlock who illegally rigged it to the Ley-Line Consortium's system for untraceable jumps.
Its surface is the real mystery. It isn't reflective like normal glass.
Instead, it holds a depthless, swirling expanse of liquid shadow and silver smoke, churning with a lazy, hypnotic energy.
Everything about it screams ancient—the way the smoke moves too slowly, the way the shadows seem to look back.
Like it's been here longer than the building. Longer than the city, maybe.
And everyone just accepts that it's the weird, powerful thing that gets you where you need to go, no questions asked.
Well, almost everyone. Silas calls it the Astral Gate, but Em refuses to adopt the name since no one knows anything factual about it. Or, "We cannot possibly come to a definitive conclusion regarding its nomenclature based on speculation," as he puts it.
Silas just rolls his eyes at that kind of logic.
He's always complaining that he can't tap into the mirror's true potential—forced to settle for stealing ley-stone shards to trick the Guild Line into thinking it's one of their Designated Transit Arches, or DTAs, so it doesn't get flagged as suspicious.
Which means they'll probably use it tomorrow. Council can't know what they're up to, and the warlocks at the Ley-Line Consortium? Definitely the type to tattle.
Usually, they just use snappers like everyone else. The Consortium mass-produces those little crystalline chips for regular use by whoever can afford them. Each one is attuned to a specific DTA and, when snapped, pulls the user along the ley line it's harmonized with.
Those who can't afford snappers—or simply dislike them, or want to avoid certain arches—use the Hub.
It's basically the supernatural equivalent of an airport: long lines, customs, security checks…
blah, blah, blah. Miriam actually prefers the place, which, honestly, I've never understood.
It always seems so boring and unnecessarily crowded every time I pass through.
On very rare occasions, they'll use Dre's bloodline key—though he hates using it.
I've only ever seen a handful of supernaturals with one.
They're personal crystals that a Stone-Singer has attuned to a user's bloodline over years of meticulous work.
It's keyed to multiple DTAs and frequencies, so it's useful in an emergency, but it leaves an obvious trace in the system.
Most use them as flashy status symbols. I've never understood why Dre hides his, but he must have a reason—and whatever it is, I'm choosing to believe it's a valid one.
Only once have I had the unfortunate experience of traveling with them via a Gut Wrencher. Wrencher, for short. As if shortening the name makes it less horrifying.
Those things are nasty pieces of work. Silas makes them in his workshop, since they're almost always crafted by witches or warlocks. They're usually made of cheaper materials and are completely unanchored from the stable, well-run Guild Line.
The risk of miscast is high. They call it "getting voided." That one time they used one, I was sucked along, and it took me almost a week to get my energy back to normal levels.
The other times I've traveled with them, I'm never quite sure how it happens.
I'm always left disoriented afterward, my senses scrambled by a blinding tunnel of light and chaos.
I'm noticeably more tired once we're through—but it's never been nearly as bad as that one time they were forced to use Silas' black-market monstrosity.
A slight movement in the swirling fog in front of me tears me from thoughts of unpleasant travel experiences, and I focus.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," I sing-song under my breath.
My breath hitches—as it always does—when the smoke begins to form the outline of a person. As always, their form is foggy and distant, but I see them. I never know what he wants or why he's here, but whenever I come to gaze into the mirror, he comes to gaze back at me.
I don't know why my brain assumes it's a "he," but the deep loneliness I see in his eyes is a language I recognize. I saw it etched into stone mere minutes ago. I've seen it in the quiet depths of Jim's gaze. I feel its echo in my own hollowed-out center.
And, if I'm being brutally honest, there's a pull there, too. A stupid, gravitational tug toward that smudged silhouette that has absolutely no business being this compelling.
I wave, like I always do, and wait for him to drift nearer. But it never happens. He just stands there in the distance—a tradition by now—looking me over as though taking stock. Then, just as quickly as he appeared, he's gone.
He always leaves too soon. Though maybe it's because the longer he stays, the more I'm tempted to leap straight into that smoke-filled frame just to satisfy my curiosity. The thought terrifies me. But sometimes the loneliness outweighs that terror.
Giving Silas's workshop a perfunctory middle finger, I float back up and through the ceiling, not caring enough to venture farther than this room.
I never pay much attention to the rest of this space, if I’m being honest. The mirror's the only thing that's ever mattered. Silas could have a dancing bear back there and I wouldn't notice.
But the mirror's done its thing for tonight. The figure's gone. And standing here staring at my own reflection isn't going to bring him back.
Time to go. Back toward what I know. Back to the guys, and the life I'm determined to carve out with them.
Besides, I have a gargoyle to guard, and I can't just let them get ready for tomorrow's mission alone.