The Devil's Looking-Glass - By Mark Chadbourn Page 0,64

life. Wearily, he bowed his head and closed his eyes.

When he looked again, the black mirror had clouded over. Yet the face that was gradually appearing in the misty glass was not Meg’s. He felt his heart begin to beat faster, though he scarcely dared hope. Yet the familiar curve of the lips emerged, and the bright, clever eyes, and the tumble of brown hair, just as they had that night in the rooming house in Liverpool.

‘Jenny,’ he murmured, uncontrolled joy rushing through him. She still wore the blue dress she had on when she vanished from his life all those years ago.

Her eyes widened and he knew she could see him too. But then he saw the worry in her face. With apprehension she glanced nervously over her shoulder in the darkness, and then leaned closer to the glass.

‘Will. It is you.’

He recoiled at the shock of hearing her voice after so long. There was so much he wanted to say to her; he had played this moment through a thousand times or more in all the years of longing. How could he ever begin to express the emotion that had been stirred in that seeming eternity of time apart? ‘Jenny,’ he began, struggling to find the words, but she silenced him with an insistent shake of her head.

‘Will, there is very little time,’ she whispered. ‘When I saw you before, I barely dared believe you still lived . . . that you remembered me—’

‘I would never forget you.’ He could barely stop his voice from breaking. Her features softened, and he saw the affection in her smile. ‘Not a day has passed when I have not searched for you in some way.’

‘And you must abandon the quest,’ she sighed. ‘That is the very reason why I have reached out to you. You must put me out of your thoughts, and out of your heart.’

‘Never.’

‘You must.’ He saw the tears begin to run down her cheeks. ‘Will, please . . . do this for me, if you love me still—’

‘I do!’

‘Then forget me,’ she implored. ‘There is no time for explanations. You must trust me on this matter. To find me could cost you your own life, and I will never allow that to happen . . .’ She half turned as if she had heard someone approaching, and then added in a hasty tone, ‘I must go.’

‘Wait,’ he called out, too loud, but the looking glass had already misted over, and a moment later it showed only blue sky. Will slumped back against the rail and closed his eyes, turning her words over in his head, listening once again to the music of her voice. He felt afraid to stop in case he could no longer remember how she sounded. And yet Jenny lived, there could be no doubt about that now. His heart leapt, and it was all he could do not to shout to the heavens. Her warnings meant nothing to him. How could he accept her plea for him to stay away? Nothing would deter him from bringing her home.

He inhaled a draught of salty air and took a moment at the rail, looking out over the blue waters. Though his spirits now soared, he yet felt doubt. What of Meg? Did she still live? And without her to guide them, what chance did they have of reaching their destination?

He was in reflective mood as he descended on to the main deck, and barely noticed Courtenay beckoning him to enter his cabin. Strangewayes knelt beside the still-prone Grace, so intent on his prayers he seemed unaware that the two men had entered. Will followed Bloody Jack to his trestle where his dog-eared charts were scattered, the astrolabe weighting them down. Keeping an eye on Strangewayes, the captain whispered, ‘Do you have a new course for me?’

‘Not yet. Soon,’ Will replied. ‘You have identified our position?’

Courtenay jabbed a finger on the chart. ‘Right where we shouldn’t be, Master Swyfte. We’ve already had our fill of the horse latitudes, where the wind comes and goes like a woman’s affections, and you can drift becalmed for days under a sweltering sun. Aye, that’s bad enough, but that damnable storm has dumped us back in it, and worse. Here . . .’ he drew a filthy nail along the chart, ‘is a sea within the sea. Cursed, it is. Good ships disappear without a sign. Pirates, some say.’ He shrugged, not believing. ‘Other vessels are found deserted, with treasure