Quicksilver - Amanda Quick [91]
She saw fire as well, hot flames of silver and gold. The scorching, dazzling flames crashed and cascaded in the depths of the mirror. Her senses sang in response to the wild energy, urging her to unleash the forces in the glass.
She knew then with her glass-reader’s intuition that any strong talent could use the mirror to blind or even kill. For a person with psychical abilities, the artifact was the equivalent of a gun. But someone endowed with a very special kind of talent could do much more with the device. She could set free the full power locked in the looking glass.
Someone with her kind of talent.
But what would one do with the strange energy that burned in the Quicksilver Mirror, she wondered. Then she thought about the weak energy that the killer had infused into the mirrors on Ratford’s and Hackett’s dressing tables and in the looking glasses on the walls of the terrible chamber beneath the Hollister mansion. Again the question arose in her mind. Why would anyone try to lock power into a looking glass?
From out of nowhere she recalled something her mother had said a long time ago: Power is power, whether it is normal or paranormal. It is always potentially dangerous, and there will always be those who seek to manipulate it for their own ends.
“Virginia.”
Owen spoke in his sleep, uttering her name in a raw, rasping voice that shattered the spell of the mirror.
She closed down her senses. The mirror darkened to an opaque gray. She inserted the artifact into the sack with shaking fingers and tied the cord.
Setting the sack on top of the chest of drawers, she went back to the bed and gripped Owen’s hand. His fingers tightened around hers, but he did not awaken.
She contemplated the moonlit night on the other side of the window and thought about what she had seen in the Quicksilver Mirror.
THIRTY-FIVE
At ten minutes to five in the morning, Virginia sensed the subtle but distinct change in Owen’s energy that told her he had surfaced completely from the depths. His breathing was relaxed, and his pulse was calm and steady. He was still asleep, but now his sleep felt entirely normal.
She released his hand.
“Virginia,” he muttered. He did not open his eyes.
“I’m here,” she said gently. “All is well. Go back to sleep.”
He stirred, turned on his side and did as she instructed.
After a while she let herself out of the room and walked down the hall. She knew that Charlotte was asleep in the bedroom at the far end. She thought she heard Mrs. Crofton in the kitchen.
When she reached the foot of the stairs Matt spoke softly out of the shadows.
“Is Uncle Owen all right, Miss Dean?”
“He’s quite well but still asleep. Where are Tony and Nick?”
“Tony’s watching the back of the house. Uncle Nick is asleep in the parlor. Mrs. Crofton is in the kitchen. She came down a few minutes ago. Said she wanted to get an early start on breakfast because there were so many of us to feed.”
Virginia winced. “It is very decent of her to make breakfast for all of us before she gives notice.”
“She didn’t say anything about handing in her notice. Are you still certain that Uncle Owen will awaken with all of his senses?”
“Quite certain.”
“That is very good news, indeed,” Matt said. “We weren’t looking forward to dealing with him if that turned out not to be the case.”
Matt’s obvious relief made her pause. “I understand your concern about the possible loss of his talent. It would be deeply disturbing for any strong sensitive to wake up and discover that his para-senses were blind. But what do you mean when you say that you weren’t looking forward to dealing with him?”
Nick spoke from the shadowed door of the parlor. “You’ve said enough, Matt.”
“Yes, sir,” Matt said quickly. “Sorry. I keep forgetting that Miss Dean isn’t family yet.”
And that was all she was going to get out of him for now, Virginia realized. She turned toward Nick. “Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning,” Nick said. He rubbed his jaw, testing his morning beard. “All is well upstairs, I take it?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Thank you,”