Mirror, Mirror Read online

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  by

  Phaedra Weldon

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  * * * * *

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Phaedra Weldon on Smashwords

  Mirror Mirror

  © Copyright 2008, all rights reserved, first printing.

  This story in its original form was first appeared in the Daw anthology, ENCHANTMENT PLACE, edited by Denise Little.

  © Copyright 2010, all rights reserved, second printing.

  This story has been modified from its original form

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  Chicago, Present Day

  "Siobhan, there's a dead body on the floor of your shop."

  She knitted her eyebrows together in concentration. It wasn't the best way to start a Saturday night—especially after just waking from the day.

  Siobhan O'Donnell stood behind the counter of her mirror store, a specialty shop situated in Chicago's Enchantment Place center. Specialty because the mirrors didn't work the same way a conventional mirror did—these mirrors used built in cameras to project a vampire's image on a sheet of crystal.

  "And it's drained of blood."

  She pulled the right side of her mouth into a smirk.

  "You got something you want to tell me?"

  With a slow nod, she looked up into the exotic face of Captain Oberon Geld, one of Chicago's finest and the former King to the Elven Seleighe Court—as well as her ex-partner and one-time lover.

  But not anymore. On both counts.

  "Ron," she said, using the nickname he hated most, just because he hated it. "I'm going to have to agree with you. There's a dead body on the floor drained of blood."

  The tall elf opened his mouth to speak. Siobhan held up her index finger. "But I didn't do it."

  "You do realize how this looks, don't you?"

  She arched her eyebrows at him, fixing him with a look that said, "Duh."

  Her last job—and life change—had been on the other side of the law. As a detective for the Chicago police, she'd been one of the best at investigating unconventional conventional homicides—crimes involving non-humans. Vampires did make good cops, as did the older, Seleighe Court Elves like Oberon. Both races were formidable, strong, intelligent, and long-lived. Both were attractive and sensuous in their own right, and both races possessed an irresistible sex appeal for mortals.

  And they could both kill—violently.

  Their differences were less obvious. A vampire held brute strength and the ability to shift to a second form, but an elf could wield magic—if he or she were properly trained. A vampire and an elf were a perfect team.

  The two races shared disadvantages as well. Vampires couldn't move around in the daylight, and the elves could. But an elf couldn't touch cold iron without suffering excruciating pain and burned flesh. Cold iron was the elf's sunlight, and vice versa.

  Oberon crossed his arms and nodded toward her. He was impeccably dressed as always, in a suit with his tie loosened and his jacket unbuttoned. His white-blond hair was cut short in a modern style, so unlike the long braided locks he once wore as King of the Seleighe.

  He didn't look any happier to see her now than the last time they'd met. Nor did she care for the angry glint in his bright amber eyes and their cat-like pupils. His skin was flawless, as was her own. And he was as beautiful now as he was the first time the two of them had touched.

  "Siobhan…" he started in that old, familiar patronizing tone. He held up the slip of paper the officers had found on the dead body. "What does this mean?"

  "Oberon, how can I tell you when I haven't even been allowed to see it? I told you, I came down here after rising to find a dead woman in the middle of my shop. I called the police right away—and your goons have kept me here for eight hours."

  He handed the paper to her and Siobhan opened it. In black marker someone had written YOU ARE IN DANGER. She didn't recognize the handwriting.

  "Who is this from? What are you in danger from?"

  She gave Oberon a scathing look, hoping to hide her growing alarm at the note's message behind her terse manner. "How the hell am I supposed to know? And besides, is the message for me or for her?" She frowned at the body. "I'd say it was meant for her—albeit a bit late. I've been asleep all day."

  "And the district attorney's going to say you got up and fed on some prostitute you found breaking into your shop."

  "P'sshhh," Siobhan moved away from Oberon to the body sprawled on her floor. She knew who it was—Melissa Broden, bartender and part-time donor over at Chimeras, the local vamp bar. The victim being a donor was the reason for Oberon's prostitution comment; he'd always hated to see humans selling their blood as boxed lunches.

  Siobhan knelt beside Melissa and noticed the marks on her neck. Very round and very visible. There was little blood. She leaned in closer, careful not to touch. She was no longer a cop, nor did she have any gloves on. "Oberon," she said in a firm voice. Several of the officers nearby ceased their conversations. "This wasn't a vampire killing."

  He moved closer and knelt down to her right. "Not a vampire?"

  "No," she nodded to the wound. "Too perfect. Too round. Vampire teeth were human once—" she looked at him with an arched brow. "No set of vampire bites are the same."

  Oberon shook his head. "So how do you explain the blood loss?"

  "Blood can be drained from a body in many ways," Siobhan sniffed. "I'd say this one was with magic. It's got that smell. The blood was completely removed from the body." She looked at Oberon. "Which, of course, would kill the human quickly."

  "That's ridiculous," he stood. "There's no legal spell to remove blood from a human. That would be delving into dark magic, which is strictly forbidden, same as a vampire drinking from an elf."

  "Well, that's just suicide," she stood up beside him. Elven blood was poison to vampires, causing them to burn up from the inside out. An elf could drink a vampire's blood with no other consequence than a trip to the hospital and a bad case of the runs.

  She shook her head as she gazed down at the body. "I'd still look into magic. There's no instant punishment for using dark magic, Ron. Nor is there any way to prove the spell caster's identity. Magic is strictly autonomous."

  "Siobhan," he sighed. "I'm afraid you're going to have to do better than this. The DA's not going to blame magic. If she did, she'd incite the wrath of witches, mages, magicians, elves and the Goddess knows who or what else living in this world."

  "Political suppression?" Siobhan narrowed her eyes. "What's going on, Oberon? Why are yo
u so quick to count me as a suspect? You know I'm right. This wasn't done by a vampire."

  When he didn't speak but looked away, she had her answer. "This isn't the first death."

  Oberon didn't respond.

  She moved to stand in front of him and searched his beautiful face. "Why don't you tell me?"

  "Whether you like it or not, Siobhan, you're not a cop. I don't report to you. Not anymore."

  "What is wrong with you?"

  But she knew that look. Had seen it many times. "You fought with Abyssinian again." The mention of Oberon's UnSeleighe brother caused the vein in his neck to pulse.

  The two had never gotten along—though Siobhan found the elven king's brother…amusing. Actually, he was a lot of fun, where Oberon was stiff and unmoving.

  "Damned vigilante." He turned a mask of calm toward her. "I made sure he stays out of trouble."

  "You did what?" Come to think of it, she hadn't seen Abyssinian in nearly a week. Which wasn't like him—the UnSeleighe always stopped by. A few of her clientele tended to grab coffee at the local Starbucks and hang out, just to catch a glimpse of him. "What did you do to him?"

  But Oberon wasn't going to tell her. "Don't worry about Aby. You're hungry. Maybe I can get you something at the station."

  "No thanks. You know my stomach can't handle pre-packaged food."

  The elf winced. "Siobhan…you have to drink. It seems I'm forever telling you that."

  And it was true. Others of her kind had learned to take only what they needed from several people a night. And it suited them. But she'd never been able to do that because each drink gave a taste of her donor's life. And sometimes all the lives got jumbled up in her head if she drank from more than one a night.

  Not to mention the drama to her stomach when she woke up the next evening. The banks were a fine substitute, all privately owned and operated for the sole purpose of keeping vampires docile. Each bank received its blood through well-paid donors. Then it was screened (even vampires get diseases) and sent out to distribution banks all over the city.

  It was the anticoagulants they put in the blood these days. They made her retch for a week.

  A siren blared, and the two of them glanced to their left to see the icebox arrive outside. In a few seconds several white-coated men would appear, give last rites over the body, and then sever the head to keep the victim from returning as a ghoul.

  As they moved away from the body, Siobhan filled him in on what she knew about the victim. Female, in her late twenties, had come in to buy one of her mirrors. One of the higher end models with the AV options.

  "AV option?"

  She sighed. Oberon held no real desire to learn the technology of the present. When they were lovers, he still couldn't turn a computer on. "Audio visual option. They all have cameras in them that project onto the crystal surfaces." She was proud of her mirrors, a project she'd started nearly twenty years ago when she was finally tired of not knowing what she looked like. "Some actually save AMVs."

  "Recordings?"

  "Uh-huh. Oberon, I didn't kill that child. You all but admitted you know this is true when you noticed I hadn't drank tonight. And given a few days and a forensic examination of the body, I can prove it."

  The white-coated men moved in through the front door. Everyone turned to watch, their conversations quieted. "Well, as for a forensic examination, that's not going to happen." Oberon watched the white suits usher non-essential personnel out.

  "Well, that's convenient, isn't it?"

  Siobhan and Oberon turned to their left.

  Abyssinian lounged in the doorway. Dressed in his usual leather pants and jacket, his brilliant red hair in contrast to his pale skin, the UnSeleighe brought a bit of color to the room. Siobhan knew the rings on Aby's fingers cloaked a katana. She noticed a white bandage wrapped around his right wrist.

  "How did you—" Oberon started, then glanced at Siobhan. "You stay the hell out of this, Aby."

  But his brother only made tsk-tsk noises as he moved to join them. He'd cut his hair recently, ridding himself of his familiar long braid. Where Oberon's eyes were amber, Abyssinian's were indigo. She and Aby had become friends since she left the force. She didn't exactly support vigilantes, per se, but she did think Abyssinian was a just and fair man. "Why don't you tell her about the missing UnSeleighe, Ron."

  "Don't call me that."

  But Abyssinian wasn't going to stop. He turned his bright, intense gaze on Siobhan. "Didn't mention the fourteen or so missing UnSeleighe, did he? Vanished. Gone," he snapped his fingers as if he'd just remembered something. "Oh, he's concerned for the dead humans, as well as for the vampires or Seleighe—but not for the UnSeleighe people."

  "You're not my concern."

  Abyssinian looked down at the body. He glanced at Siobhan. "He thinks you did this?"

  "It's what it looks like." Oberon balled his hands into fists.

  "Like I said," Abyssinian folded his arms over his chest. "Convenient."

  "Nobody asked you." Oberon rounded on his brother again.

  "You really think I'm stupid enough to leave my food wrapper in my own business?" It was a crass statement, and her voice had risen some with her frustration. She especially detested the look of tolerance on Oberon's face. His mask of superiority really chapped her ass sometimes.

  "No, Siobhan. I don't. But my boss is going to come down on me if I don't make an arrest in twenty-four hours." He glanced back to the store where they were shuttling uniformed policemen out of the shop.

  Siobhan could understand their caution. Sometimes the victims of a vampire's bite could go quietly. And sometimes it could get messy. But this wasn't a vampire bite. "I need some time. Come on. Professional courtesy."

  "Sio, I can give you twenty-four hours before they're beating down my door for justice. But you'll have to leave the shop. It's a crime scene." He pointed at Abyssinian. "And you stay out of this."

  Aby backed up, his hands in the air.

  "Twenty-four hours? Oberon, I can't do any amount of investigating in that amount of time. Christ, I can't go out in the sun for nearly thirteen of those hours." She glanced at her watch. "And it's nearly three in the morning now."

  "That's what you have me for." Aby smiled.

  Oberon moved Siobhan out of the way with a shove as he rounded on his brother. "So help me, Abyssinian Geld, if I hear you've had anything to do with this case, I'll slap cold iron manacles on you and throw you into a dark room."

  But Abyssinian only smiled. "Thanks bro. I'll tell Mom and Dad you said hi."

  "Hey Captain," the burly officer stepped in close but knew better than to get involved in a family tiff. "The Last Rites team is ready."

  Oberon glared at his brother before looking down at Siobhan. "Twenty-four hours, Siobhan. My own detectives will be working as well."

  Yeah. Right. She took in a deep breath—dispelling the idea that vampires didn't breathe—turned and left the shop through the back door with Abyssinian right behind her.

  <><><>

  "Would he really put you in manacles?" Siobhan asked as they walked down the Miracle Mile sidewalk, the store lights illuminating the entire strip before morning came.

  "He already did." Abyssinian stopped and pulled up the left sleeve of his jacket, revealing the white bandage. He peeled back the wrapping to reveal a nasty, puckered band of burned flesh around his wrist. "It only takes one manacle of cold iron to pretty much disable an UnSeleighe."

  "My God," she touched the damaged flesh. "That's where you've been."

  She caught the sideways grin he flashed her. "You miss me?"

  Siobhan reached up and thumped the side of his head and turned her attention back to the wound. "I guess that hurt."

  "Ever stepped into sunlight?" he asked as he re-wrapped it and pulled his sleeve back down. When she nodded, he nodded. "Then you pretty much know what it feels like. Only you can't get the manacle off."

  "Why did he do that?"

  "Because he's a sadisti
c creep who has always hated me. I keep telling you that. I told you that while you were dating him." He turned to walk and gestured for her to follow. "And you finally came to your senses."

  "How did you get it off?"

  "My brother has a very interesting set of friends. All girls." He beamed. "So I flirted. And nothing melts a woman's heart more than a wounded man in pain, am I right?"

  She glared at him, and decided if she ever saw Aby in pain, she'd ignore him.

  He glanced back at her again. "You got your gun?"

  Siobhan reached behind her, beneath her pea-coat and pulled out her weapon. As a vampire she never felt cold or heat—the coat purely there to hide the gun. "Where are we going?"

  "To Sacred Harvest."

  "The blood bank?" She reached out and pulled at his coat. He stopped and looked at her. "Aby, what's going on? And don't say you don't know, 'cause you're a terrible liar."

  "Melissa Broden bought a mirror from you."

  "Yes. You overheard me tell Oberon that."

  Abyssinian shook his head. "I already knew that because I asked her to buy it. Melissa was a friend of mine. And now she's dead, and the killer is trying to frame you."

  "Wait," she shook her head. "Why did you ask her to buy a mirror?"

  "Because I wanted to know what was really happening in Sacred Harvest. I've been watching it for weeks. A lot of vans go in and out of the back alley, and the other night I got a call from a friend, UnSeleighe. Said she met a really nice vampire and was rendezvousing with him over at Chimeras. Well, then she vanished. Nothing. No body. No remains.

  "Melissa got a job there and planted the mirror. My guess is that whoever is responsible for her death discovered the mirror—" he held up a finger. "And noticed it wasn't a normal mirror."

  Nodding slowly, Siobhan was catching on. "So we need to check out and see if the mirror is still there."

  Abyssinian nodded. "The question I can't answer is why would the ones doing this try and frame you?"