Death Bringer

Valkyrie walked into the living room. The reflection had Alice in its arms, and it was smiling gently as the baby guzzled from the bottle. Fletcher stood nearby.

“Sorry,” he said. “She kept batting the bottle away and then started crying.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Valkyrie said, keeping her eyes on the reflection. “So you’ve been in the mirror for the past few hours?”

“Yes,” the reflection said.

“And then what? You got bored? Decided to go for a walk?”

“I don’t get bored. There was homework that needed to be finished. I finished it.”

“Right. But, see, I’m sure I touched that mirror.”

“You didn’t. I’m sorry if I startled you. Fletcher, could you hand me a tissue?”

Fletcher snagged a tissue from the box on the mantelpiece and gave it to the reflection. The reflection used it to wipe milk from the baby’s chin, and then went back to feeding. “You can continue your conversation, if you like. Forget I’m even here.”

Fletcher started grinning, and Valkyrie turned her frown on him. “What’s so amusing?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing. Well … OK, I was just thinking … And don’t get mad, because this is just a thought that entered my head, so it’s not my fault, it’s the thought’s fault, but … If you found me with your reflection one day, would that technically be cheating?”

Valkyrie’s frown turned to a glare, and Fletcher backed away, laughing. “It was a thought! It was a question I had to ask! I mean, come on, you’ve thought about it yourself, haven’t you?”

“No,” she said coldly, “I haven’t.”

“Yes, she has,” the reflection said, and Fletcher burst out laughing. The reflection laughed along with him.

“I knew it!” Fletcher cried. “I knew it!”

Valkyrie narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing?”

The reflection smiled at her. “I’m simulating appropriate human responses. Fletcher found the truth amusing and I joined him in laughing at your embarrassment.”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“Yes, you are.”

“It’s fine,” Fletcher said, “forget I ever said anything. I have the real Valkyrie anyway – why would I ever need a substitute?”

Fletcher went to wrap an arm around Valkyrie, but she moved away from him, keeping her eyes on the reflection. “Give me my sister.” The reflection walked over, did as Valkyrie ordered. “Now go upstairs. Get into the mirror. Stay there.”

“Of course,” the reflection said, and its gaze dropped to the baby for a split-second. As it walked out, it smiled at Fletcher. “Goodnight,” it said.

Fletcher waved, then frowned. “Goodnight,” he said, unsure. They listened to it climb the stairs. “It’s never done that before. It’s never said goodnight.”

“What the hell were you doing? You were encouraging it. You were playing with it.”

“I was just having a laugh …”

“And it was having a laugh too. It was laughing at me. You don’t find anything about that slightly weird? It’s not supposed to do that.”

“Well, I don’t know, it’s not supposed to do a lot of things, is it? The programming is a little off. There’s a malfunction somewhere. So what? It does its job. It imitates you to perfection. And it got Alice to stop crying the moment it took her. So it acts weird every now and then, so you forget to touch the glass every once in a while, so what? It’s not the end of the world, and you’ve got other things to worry about. Like the end of the world.”

Valkyrie sighed. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Here. We have an evening to ourselves. An ordinary, average evening, where we can be a normal boyfriend and girlfriend, babysitting and snuggling on the couch. I can pop over to Milan for a pizza from that great place under the arch, I can get that ice cream you love from that place in San Francisco … It’ll be a nice, quiet night in. That sound good to you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it sounds nice. I’m starving, actually. Get the pizza.”

“And the ice cream?”

“And the ice cream.”

He smiled, and vanished. Valkyrie laid Alice in her cot, made sure she was comfortable, and went upstairs to her bedroom. The reflection was in the mirror. Valkyrie tapped the glass firmly, and the memories transferred as the girl in the mirror changed to reflect her own image. The memories settled as she stood there. The reflection had been right. She had simply forgotten to touch the glass earlier on. She saw herself change her clothes, fix her hair and then just walk out of the room. She replayed the memory again, while it was still fresh in her mind, before the details faded and it was just another mix of sensations. She watched herself change her clothes, fix her hair and …

She was sure she had approached the mirror. She was sure she had touched the glass. But the reflection’s memory made it clear that she had just turned and walked out. She hadn’t even glanced at the mirror.

That was that. Mystery solved. She’d made a mistake and that’s all there was to it.

The reflection had kept things from her before – there had been gaps, moments that were missing. There was nothing missing here, though. There was no sign of tampering – nothing obvious anyway. Unless the reflection had discovered a new way of editing its memories, a new way to seamlessly cover over the gaps, then it had been telling the truth. Valkyrie tapped the glass again. “It looks like I owe you an apology.”

The reflection leaned forward till its head passed through the mirror. “No need. I am incapable of being offended.”

Valkyrie frowned. “Yeah. Yeah, I knew that. I know that.”

“Then why did you apologise?”

“I’m … not sure.”

“Do you want me to finish your homework?”

“Yeah. Good. You do that.”

The reflection nodded, stepped out of the mirror and sat at the desk. Unsettled, with no clear reason why, Valkyrie went back downstairs. Halfway down, someone knocked on the front door. Valkyrie crossed the hall, opened the door, looked out into darkness.

Melancholia stood where the garden path met the pavement. Her hood was down, the breeze playing with her hair, a smile playing on her lips.

“Hello, Valkyrie,” she said, then held her arms out to either side and said, “Surprise.”

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alkyrie felt something cold twist in her gut. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice brittle and sharp. “This is my home.”

“I know it is,” Melancholia answered. “I’ve heard Cleric Wreath mention the pier in Haggard so many times that it was really no trouble finding you. So this is where you live, then. How … mundane.”

Melancholia smiled as she approached. The hem of her robes flowed over the ground like a river of shadows. “What’s wrong? Nothing to say? You usually have lots to say. Are you feeling all right? Are you sick? Are you ill? You don’t look ill. Are you putting a brave face on it? You have nothing to prove to me, you know. I respect you for who you are. And who are you again? Oh yes, that’s right. Absolutely nobody.”

“Whatever you want,” Valkyrie said, struggling to keep her anger down, “it can wait, OK? My baby sister’s inside.”