Part 15

Zara had always relied on the sharpness of her mind when she found herself in danger. For some people, danger had the opposite effect and instead made their thoughts muddled, and any reasonable train of thought was shut down. Not her, though. She thrived on it. The thrill made her mind feel incredibly clear and lucid, anything irrelevant to survival temporarily halted. It was had made her such an excellent scout during her time with the Red Capes. She moved fluidly through the forest back then, quiet as a whisper and focused on the mission at hand. Always focused on the mission.

Where was that clarity now though? She couldn't help but wonder, as she and Ronan crept back out into the darkened entrance hall with the thieves' wick in hand. He had his arm around her shoulder, leaning into her for extra support. They were stealthily climbing a steep flight of crumbling steps that led to one of the castle's towers and all she could think about were his lips. Her cheeks grew warm, and she hastily tried to change the direction of her thoughts yet again. Perhaps there was something wrong with her. Why else would she kiss a man she'd barely just met? She wasn't someone who was easily swept off her feet. In fact, she'd found him more irritating than charming. He had a way of wheedling his way beneath her skin. And yet there was no denying it, his kiss had not been unwanted. She groaned internally. This was exactly the kind of distraction neither of them needed. A ghoul in the dungeon, and who knew what else lurked in the darkness.

The steps continued up, leading them in dizzying circles. Several times she slowed her pace to allow Ronan to catch his breath. She casted him yet another worried expression as he leaned momentarily against the wall. Worry creased her forehead. Maybe he didn't need to worry about blood loss, but infection was still a very real possibility. Especially considering the culprit behind his injury.

"Ronan," Zara insisted, but he was already shaking his head. "I can manage the rest of the way on my own. You should stay here. No offense, but I don't know how useful you'd be in a battle right now."

"You're wasting your breath. Let's just keep moving," he grunted and pushed himself off the wall.

Zara tugged her lip in-between her teeth. "Fine, but if you collapse on me I'm not carrying you the rest of the way."

He managed a dry chuckle. "Only if that happens do you have my permission to go on ahead without me. As long as I'm standing, though, I'm coming the rest of the way. You don't need to do this alone. It's my mission after all."

Zara didn't say anything, slinging his arm once again around her shoulders. She didn't remind him that she'd been doing things alone for a long time, and though she and Ronan had been traveling together for a little while, she still hadn't considered them two parts of a single whole. The second that happened, she became in danger of losing that part. Yet even as the words left his mouth she knew, it was too late to worry about that. They had become a whole the second they stepped into the forest together.

As they finally neared the top of the tower, wind whistled eerily through the cracks in the stone. The tower seemed to sway ever so slightly, as if just waiting for the right moment to topple over. As she had expected, there was a single wooden door. It stood just sightly ajar, the darkness inside anything but inviting. She cast Ronan a wary look before reaching out a hand and pushing the door open. She untangled herself from him, making certain he was steady on his feet before unsheathing her sword. It was still slick with the ghoul's dark, wet blood.

She shouldered her way in front of Ronan, leading the way into the room. This too had its own peculiar scent. Like ash, or sulfur. Her fingers tightened around her weapon. Goosebumps appeared on her flesh, her body already sensing that they weren't alone. She lifted the lantern and scanned the room before her arm halted, a sharp exhale of breath leaving her lips.

"Do you see it?" Ronan asked quickly, straightening up and squaring his shoulders. He made to pull his own weapon but Zara clamped her fingers around his wrist.

"Let me. I've done this before," she whispered, her voice deceptively calm. Much more calm than she felt on the inside, with her heart battering against her ribcage.

In the corner of the room, still as a statue, stood the figure of a woman. In the shadows, Zara couldn't tell if she was old or young. She had seen banshees that were delicate and beautiful, and others that looked like little more than corpses. Her dress was torn and tattered, hanging in shreds over her thin, skeletal figure. Dark hair framed her face in matted clumps, and her silvery, pupil less eyes seemed to stare unblinking right at Zara. So the siren had been telling the truth after all. But where was the Finder's Glass?

The creature continued to stare at her and Zara felt frozen to the spot, waiting for her to make her move. Behind her, she could feel Ronan's presence, though it did little to reassure her. She had already almost gotten him killed once. Then, in a slow, jerky movement, the banshee's head tilted to one side, still watching with those cold, lifeless eyes. Zara held her breath, bracing herself for what was next.

The banshee's jaw unhinged and the noise that followed was shrill and piercing, echoing off the stone walls and filling the space completely. Zara's hands immediately went to her ears, realizing a moment too late that she had dropped her sword and the lantern. The scream seemed to consume her. It was full of anguish, reminding her of someone who been tortured to the brink of death and brought back over and over again, the sound of someone who had experienced such forlorn heartbreak and loss and loneliness that there was nothing in the world that could ever make them right again. It seemed to pierce through her, tightening around her heart in a cold, vice-like grip.

Gritting her teeth, Zara forced her hands away from her ears. The shrieking was so much worse, though. And it wasn't just the way it sounded...it was the way it felt. Hopeless. Dejected. She moved sluggishly as she felt around the floor for her blade. She made the quick mistake of grabbing the sharp edge instead of the handle, instantly slicing her palm open. Warm blood trailed a red path down her skin. She liked the way the pain felt. A sharpness in her otherwise blurry existence. The scream became background noise against the stinging pain. She squeezed her fist and watched as the blood dripped onto the stone floor. Blood, pain, death...that was what the scream meant, yes.

The sword was wrenched from her reach and there was a quick blur of movement. Her sluggish mind seemed to suddenly wake up realizing it was Ronan who had taken up her weapon. He swung his arm back and lashed out at the woman, her cry becoming a screech as the blade tore through her pale skin. Blood began to blossom through white of her gown. Zara shook herself awake, unclenching her fist. The banshee was muddling her mind, making it impossible to think straight. She stumbled towards Ronan and took the blade back from him, clumsily pushing him to the side. With a cry, she sliced through the air. It was a clean cut, the banshee's head toppling from its neck. The air fell silent, although her ears continued to ring.

Zara slumped back against the wall as she tried to catch her breath, head falling back against the stone.

"What the hell was that?" She heard Rowan ask, and turned her head to see him pale faced and wide eyed. "I felt like...like—"

"I know." Zara swallowed hard, and glanced down at her injured hand. "She was strong. Never has a banshee been able to bring me to the ground like that."

Ronan gently grabbed her hand, and she hissed as a sharp stab of pain ran through her. "Are you alright?" he asked. His other hand came up to push her hair back, away from her forehead. She found herself fighting two simultaneous urges, to push him away and to pull him close. Instead she grabbed his hand and lowered it, his skin rough and callused.

"Fine. Let's just get what we came for and get away from here."

The banshee was still for the time being, but Zara knew from experience that it would only be a matter of moments before that changed. They each combed the sparse room, searching for hidden nooks and crannies where someone might hide a valuable treasure.

"Nothing!" Ronan finally growled after a moment, giving her an exasperated look.

Zara pressed a hand to her temple. "No, it has to be here. Why would the siren tell the truth about the banshee but not the mirror?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, maybe in the hopes that it'd end up killing us both."

Zara shook her head, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "If it wanted us dead all that badly, there are more efficient ways of getting that job done." She knelt on the ground and gingerly rolled the banshee onto her back. It's limbs flopped uselessly to the side and Zara carefully felt along the dirty and torn fabric of the dress. A barely audible sound of disbelief escaped her lips as she felt something hidden in one of the dress pockets. Moments later she was holding a round, silver mirror in her hands. It was smaller than she'd been expecting, no bigger than her palm. The back was ornately decorated, silver roses carved into the material. There was nothing particularly remarkable about it. When she looked in the mirror, she saw nothing besides her own dark hair and milky blue eyes staring back at her.

"How does it work?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"May I?" Ronan asked, kneeling next to her and holding out his hand. She placed the mirror into his palm, noting the expression on his face. Like a man who had just found his last and final life line, the one thing that was left to tether him to this existence.

"Just looks like a normal trinket." Zara shrugged, unable to muster the same look of fascination as Ronan.

He shook his head. "For now. This is it, though. This is how I find her," he murmured and Zara perked an eyebrow curiously at the implication behind the word her. It sounded strangely more desperate and intimate than one would speak of a princess they barely knew. Yet she didn't question him. Perhaps he was simply thrilled to find the mirror. This was, after all, something his own father had once held in his hands.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Zara saw the banshee's body twitch. She pushed herself to her feet, grabbing Ronan carefully by the elbow and hauling him upward. "We can take all the time we want to look at it once we're out of this damn castle."

The Finder's Glass seemed to help Ronan temporarily forget about his injury as they hurried down the stairs, one of his hands clamped around the object and his eyes almost unable to watch where he was going. Zara didn't breathe freely until they were outside underneath the silvery moonlight and blanket of stars.