Page 1 of The Midwinter Mirror
Prologue: Bad Things Happen When it Snows
Zayne
Ishould have left before the storm hit. Now I’ll be lucky to get out of here.
But I couldn’t go without saying goodbye.
The last note of “Away in a Manger” hangs in the cold air like glass.
I stay in the shadow of the yew trees, waiting, trying to hold myself together. I just need to get through this, get the fuck away from this place, and then I can fall apart. But I can’t let Tansy see me break.
The snow thickens, soft and menacing, and the tang of ice and smoke bites the air.
Finally, the church doors spill light and people. Parents herd kids toward cars. I spot her immediately. Dark red curls under a knitted hat, cheeks flushed, small hand wrapped around a cardboard lantern. Tansy. Four years old and still fearless.
None of this is real for her. She doesn’t understand that Mum and Dad are gone forever. And soon I’ll be gone as well.
I step out from the shadows. Tansy sees me, and her eyes light up. She pulls free of our aunt and races toward me. I go to one knee in the snow, and she barrels into me. I catch her, my throat burning. For a second, I hold her close, breathing in the sweet smell of oranges and peppermint. My hands shake. I lace my fingers behind her coat so she won’t feel it.
Gently putting her away from me, I force a smile. “Hey, trouble.”
“You missed the singing,” she tells me, scandalized.
“Couldn’t find a note.” My voice scrapes. I keep it light. “Listen—I have to go away for a while.”
Her face falls. “Are you going to see Mum and Dad?”
Unlikely.“Yeah.” The lie tastes like metal.
“Will you be back for Christmas?”
“No, sweetheart, I won’t be back for Christmas.” Not for any Christmas.
“But, Zayne, it won’t be the same without you. Take me with you.”
“I can’t, Tans.” My voice almost breaks. The rage and powerlessness rise up to choke me. I lost my mum and dad only days ago. And now I’m losing Tansy. But I’m only fifteen. What the fuck can I do?
Besides, a little voice whispers in my head, maybe everyone is right, and she’ll be better off without me.
“I’ll send you a card every Christmas, with where I am. And if you ever need me, you write. Anything at all, I’ll come. Deal?”
She thinks—dead serious—then nods. “Deal.” She fishes in her pocket, produces a red paper star on a bit of gold thread—the ones they handed out to the kids to hang on the tree. She loops it clumsily around my wrist. “So you don’t forget.”
“I won’t forget.” I press my forehead to hers. “I love you, Tans.”
“Love you more.”
My aunt’s shadow covers us. “That’s enough. Tansy, come here.”
I straighten, grit my teeth, and my shoulders stiffen. I stare down at my aunt—a long way down—and fear flashes in her eyes. She’s scared of me. She really believes I could harm my sister. Around us, conversation dips; a mother draws her kid behind her. No one meets my eyes.
I kiss Tansy on the head one last time and push her toward my aunt. “I’m leaving,” I tell her, simple as that. “I needed to say goodbye.”
“Well, it’s said. Now go. You’re not wanted here.”
I stand, facing her. “I could never hurt Tansy.”
“You might not mean to,” she says. “That’s different from can’t.” Her eyes flick to the church, then to the road that runs toward the hollow.
