Mary Anne Gruen - The House of Red

In the present, Matilde was standing alone in the mirror room. She had been holding her cane up, sending waves of light into the mirror. She wished Tony’s talisman could have sung some comfort to him the way Virginia’s ring could. But a flash of light in the mirror was all she could provide without being there herself. She couldn’t go anywhere at that point. Not unless there was a real emergency. Not with a major war brewing.

“Poor Lord Lewis,” she said, as she watched Tony sleep. “You don’t know it, but I think your last invention will end up being very significant in this war. You’re every bit as important as your daughter and son-in-law. In some ways, even more so.”

Tony snored loudly on his side of the mirror. It was a long powerful snore, the kind that’s so noisy that it often wakes up the snorer. But in this case it didn’t quite. Tony started slightly and muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Then he simply turned over.

Matilde laughed. “I think I like you better this way, Tony Lewis,” she said. “You look almost amiable when you sleep. And even innocent.”

She laughed again and the mirror went dark.