Chapter 18

A long time passed before my eyes opened inside a dark place.

It was a barren place, one shrouded in darkness even in the best of times. The concrete floor was cold beneath me. I found myself sprawled across it, the pain almost too much to bear.

A shaft of bright light illuminated a circular area not far from me. Somehow I managed to pull myself up, doing my best to ignore the pain I felt.

It wasn't even real. Not where I was, at any rate.

I dragged myself into the circle of light, across the frozen concrete, just as another form stepped into view across the way.

I looked up at the tall, lean form of myself.

"You look pitiful," my other self said, crossing his arms as he frowned down at me.

"Bite me," I replied, my teeth chattering as I tried to sit up.

"Now I know you're off your game, if that's the best you can do," he replied with a roll of his eyes.

I just celebrated the small victory of successfully pulling myself into a sitting position. Once I was settled, I looked up that the stark form standing in front of me, so much like me, and yet different.

He had the same hair, same features. We were one in the same, saving for the fact that he looked healthy and whole, while I looked like something someone had run through a meat grinder.

Normally we were dressed fairly similarly. When I'd spoken to my inner self before, I'd noted that his fashion sense was a little better than mine, assuming you liked the dark wizard look. He sported a black leather duster like I wore, although somehow it was still nicer than the one Susan had bought for me ages ago. The rest of his outfit was a monochrome black, but consisted of finer materials and cuts than I tended to bother with.

His body was fuller than mine, more muscled. I didn't recall that being the case before, but it'd been a while. He was certainly healthier, although his skin looked paler than mine around his own well-trimmed beard.

In comparison, I was a wreck. I was nude, which was a first for our visits in the space in my head. I was also sporting a vast network of cuts and bruises all across my body. Thin red lines marked the slashes someone had carved into me, while twin puncture wounds pock-marked my skin everywhere. Each was swollen and filled with puss, as the venom of two dozen snake bites worked its way through my veins.

"It looks like the Denarians have been having fun," my dopple-ganger said, his dark brow furrowing as he looked me over.

"Yeah, they're real assholes," I said as I spat out some blood onto the floor. It was cold enough to freeze after just a moment, but I was hurting too much for the cold to really bother me.

"You should have finished Deirdre off when you had the chance," the other Harry said, his voice filled with disappointment.

I thought back on my first encounter with the steel-haired Denarian. "Her iceberg had drifted too far by the time I'd confirmed I didn't have the Shroud."

"An excuse," the other me replied. "You could have sent her to the bottom."

"Fuck off," I spat as I started to rise. "Like I said, I'm full up on assholes right now. I certainly don't need another one."

"What you need to do is wake up," he retorted.

"I think I've been awake for enough so far, thanks."

The Denarians had been working me over for hours. I didn't recall anything from the parking lot beyond the second manacle being placed on my wrist. If I was right, and it had been Murphy and Shiro running up, then they hadn't arrived in time. When I'd awoken, it'd been to find myself hanging beneath an open sewer pipe that was gushing ice-cold water over my body.

The thorned manacles had still been around my wrists, cutting me off from both the mantle and my own power. Any slim chance I had of working my way around the manacles to summon up some of the latter was eliminated by the flowing water, which disrupted the flow of magic even on a good day.

Of course, it wasn't a good day. It hadn't been the water that'd woken me. It'd been the bite of the snake that had latched itself onto my leg.

It seemed Cassius hadn't quite forgiven me for the punishment I'd meted out back at the hotel. That's who I assumed the short, dark-skinned man was that was hissing out spells as the snake bit at me again and again.

He'd only quit when Deirdre arrived, finding him midway through his Guantanamo session. She'd chastised him with feigned disappointment, before using one of her steel hairs to cut at the snake.

She missed. Her swipe wasn't shallow, and it'd left a gouge in my leg.

They'd both left, only to have the man return a short time later and resume his efforts. Then she'd return, take a futile swipe at his snake, take her ounce of blood, and then they'd depart. Rinse and repeat. Over and over. Torture followed by a tortuous rescue, again and again, with the running water making each fresh cut burn all the worse while each bite wound throbbed.

As far as I could tell, it'd been hours, and neither had grown bored with it.

I, on the other hand, had apparently resorted to escaping to my head-space, where my double, the part of me that considered himself my Id, could antagonize me for being the fool that I was.

"True," my double conceded. "But that's not the awakening I was referring to."

"Well, why don't you spit it out then," I grumbled as I rose, slowly, each movement causing the agony in my muscles to grow. "As bad as you are, it's better than what's going on out there."

"We wouldn't be in this situation if you just wised up," the other me snapped. "When are you going to stop playing around and realize that this, all of this," he said, gesturing at the darkness, but I assumed he meant the predicament I found myself in, "could be avoided if you just accepted what we are."

"And what's that?" I spat, figuratively, before following it up with the literal. "A hopeless romantic just looking for a nice girl to settle down with?"

"No," my double said quietly. "We are the Winter Knight."

Something shifted in the darkness around us, drawing my head around in a hurry. It was an odd sort of sound, a broken sort of sound. A cross between a brisk wind and a wheezing breath.

"What is that?" I asked, turning to face the darkness rather than myself. Assuming that's not too symbolic or anything.

"You know what it is," my double said, his voice growing tired. "You've spent enough time fighting it to know."

My eyes locked on something in the darkness. "The mantle."

"Yes."

The thing I was looking at was indistinguishable from the darkness, but I knew it was there all the same. It'd been there ever since Mother Winter had stuck her gnarly old fingers into my chest and bestowed the mantle upon me. Turning me into a monster of her making.

"No," the double said. "We're not a monster."

"Not yet," I replied, my eyes shifting as the shape in the shadows moved about, its joints popping and creaking like two glaciers grinding together. I couldn't see much of it, but I got the impression of something almost humanoid. It shuffled along as if each movement came at a cost.

I could relate.

"Not now, not ever," the other me insisted. I turned back to him, finding his stare firm and confident. "It will never make us anything we're not already."

"Says you."

"Says us," the other me growled out in frustration. "We're one and the same, you idiot."

"Says you."

My double ran a hand over his face, trying to collect his thoughts rather than snapping at me like I knew he wanted to. "The mantle is just a tool. A source of power that we can use."

"It's a dark, twisted slice of evil is what it is," I replied. "And I'd be a fool to accept it."

"You already did!" Dapper me shouted. "You are the Winter Knight! Why does everyone realize that but you?!"

"Because everyone else assumes the worst in me," I shot back. "But I still don't. I haven't given up on me."

"You don't have to," my double argued. "You can still be you, just different."

"That's not being me," I replied. "That's changing. Letting the mantle mold me into the monster it wants."

"No," the other me started, before reconsidering. "Yes, it's change. But you know what? That's life."

I frowned, but my double continued. "Life is about change. You don't leave this world the same thing that came in. The world shapes you. Your actions shape you. Your decisions shape you." He gestured at the darkness. "But in the end, that's not in control of what you become. You are."

I studied me for a moment, before looking back into the dark where the mantle ground through the shadows. "You're saying that I should accept what I've become, and move on."

"Yes," the other me said. "But that doesn't mean becoming a monster. It just means becoming a new you. A new us."

My lip curled up in a doubtful smirk. "And how am I supposed to trust you? You've wanted this all along."

"Wanted what?" my double asked. "The mantle?"

"The power," I replied, turning to face him. "That's all you've ever wanted."

"That's all we've ever wanted," he said in reply, his voice soft. "It's what you bargained with Lea for, isn't it?"

My mind flashed back, to another time I'd been desperate enough to accept a gift from one of the Sidhe. After my former master, my second father, had turned on me. Had sent a monster after me that had almost ended me. I'd asked for the power necessary to do what needed to be done.

I hadn't actually gotten power then. Just the awakening I'd needed to face the monster of my youth. Just the first of many to come, as it turned out.

"That was different," I argued. "I wanted the power to help Elaine." That'd been back before I'd known that she'd betray me. Before she'd turned me over to Justin, allowing him to try and break my mind.

"No, it's not," my double said. "Power is power. It's the person wielding it, the purpose behind it, that's good or bad."

"The mantle is not good," I insisted, trying to make him understand.

"Of course it's not," he replied. "It was created by the Unseelie. It was forged as a weapon to kill and maim."

"And you want me to accept it?" I asked in disbelief. "To let it shape me?"

"No. I want you to shape it," my double said firmly. "I want us to shape it into a more useful tool. One that we can use as we see fit."

"That's impossible."

"Is it?" my double asked, an eyebrow arching high. "We've already changed it. Even without trying, we've given it shape."

As the other me looked to the darkness, the form shuffled closer. It didn't enter the light, but enough illumination reached into the dark to reveal the vague outline of an icy face. Dark, black ice looked out at me, its eyes a cobalt blue as they stared into the light.

It was a face that was all too familiar.

"No," I said, backing away. "No."

"Yes," my double insisted. "You know I'm telling you the truth. Because I am you."

The form flinched backward as another spasm rocked through it. The mantle receded into the dark, where its wispy breaths grew faint.

"You should have seen it when it first arrived," my inner self said softly. "It was more beastly back then; the Wolf of Winter. Mindless, reasonless. But like everything, it changes," my double said pointedly. "It's like an automaton, learning as it goes. Reflecting its host. Being shaped not just by its purpose, but ours."

"What's wrong with it?" I asked, curious despite myself.

"It's the manacles," the other me replied, still looking toward the mantle. "They're hurting it, in a way. Suppressing it." My double's eyes narrowed. "Just like you have, only worse."

"Like I have?" I asked, turning to him. "What are you talking about?"

"You think bearing the mantle has been hard on you?" my double asked, giving me a disappointed look. "It's been hell in here. That thing has been trying to help, and every time it does, you shove it away."

"Because it goes too far."

"No, it's not," the other me said with a shake of his head. "The only reason you're losing control is because we are — quite literally — of two minds about this."

I blinked at that. "Hah."

"Not a joke," he insisted, his expression grim. "You've been so worried about letting the mantle control you that you've been shoving it away. And me along with it. We're further apart than we've ever been."

"How is that possible?" I asked.

My double looked almost sad. "Because you're in denial. About a lot of things," he said. "You've been blaming yourself for everything. For Susan. For the weather. For the state of the world." His eyes met mine. "For the child."

I turned away. "That wasn't my fault."

"Yes it was, and you know it." My double stepped forward. "It was our fault, for taking in the Nightmare's power without understanding what it was."

"And now you're telling me to take in more power?" I asked, my voice breaking. "We took in a little bit of darkness, and look what it did! And you want more?!"

"We didn't know what we were doing then," the other me said in a low voice. "And if we'd had any time to think on it, we would have found a way to deal with it."

"Letting more darkness in isn't going to make things better!" I told me. "'A bad tree cannot bear good fruit'!"

"Don't quote the Bible to me," my double snapped. "And don't be infantile. You know perfectly well that's a simplification."

"I know that the power I've already taken in has done nothing but cause pain and suffering."

"Because of you!" the other me shouted. "Because you're not dealing with it, just like you're not dealing with anything!"

"You don't know what you're talking about," I snapped.

"No?" he growled. "Ever since that night at Bianca's, you've been running. Running from the blame. Running from the guilt. Running from your responsibilities."

"What responsibilities?" I asked. I was fairly sure I knew what he was talking about with the other two.

"Bianca. Marcone. This city," he said, gesturing around again. "You didn't kill Bianca when you should have, and it's allowed her to increase her control. She's brought in more and more resources, and is slowly gaining ground against Marcone. And you know he's been brutal in return, and not just against Bianca's people. Those old gangs he beat down back in the day smell weakness, and have been challenging his authority. Not to mention the Streetwolves.

"You heard Murphy in the morgue," he continued. "She saw an eviscerated body, and what did she say?" he asked, his head tilting in mock inquiry. "She barely flinched. Because things have gotten so bad that decapitated corpses are almost commonplace."

"Things aren't that bad."

"Yes, they are," he replied, his voice hot. "The world has gone to shit, largely because of us. Because we failed to stop Aurora." He pointed out into the distance. "The planet is on the brink of self-destruction because we failed. Because we didn't do what needed to be done. If they don't have a good crop season this year, a whole lot of people are going to die."

"And what do you want me to do?!" I screamed, my fury bubbling up. "I did what I could! I did the best I could!"

The ice on the floor cracked as I unleashed my rage at the only person deserving of it.

Myself.

"I tried to stop her! But I couldn't do it! Is that what you want to hear?! That I fucked up, broke the world, and brought on an ice age that's killed how many thousands?! I can't pass a fucking newspaper stand without seeing the headlines! Without seeing the pictures of the starving kids! The mourning people that lost loved ones in the wars! All because I fucked up!"

I don't remember crossing the space between us. I don't remember seizing him by his jacket, or shaking him. I don't remember laying into him, my bruised and aching knuckles striking him again and again. It was all his fault. My fault. Our fault.

Everything was our fault.

"No," he whispered, his head above me. I couldn't recall when my assault had turned into a desperate plea, as I collapsed into his arms and started sobbing. "It's not. We share the blame; we share the responsibility. But it's like Sía said. We can't control others. We can't control everything." The other me gripped my shoulder. "We can't save everyone."

"I did the best I could," I whispered through my tears.

"I know," he replied. "But it wasn't the best we could do."

I pulled away, looking at him in shock. "No. We did. We—"

"We could have stopped her,"he said. "But we were too busy fighting over right and wrong, too busy fighting over who was in charge."

"No. I let the mantle go when we fought Aurora," I insisted. "I let it take control."

"You let me take control," the other me said. "The mantle has never been in control. It's always been you or me. And it can't work like that. I can't control it alone; I need you, just like you need me. We have to do it together."

I sniffling laugh escaped my lips. "What would Freud say to that?"

The other me's lip curled ruefully. "What would he say to any of this?"

"Good point."

"Do you recall the calm you felt after the fight at the hotel?" my double asked. I nodded. "That was you. Just you." I looked at him in surprise. "I was too busy wrestling down the mantle, restraining myself, after the outburst in the hotel."

"Was that what happened?" I asked.

My double nodded. "That's the way its been for months now. One or the other of us taking control. Very rarely working together." His head tilted to one side. "Well, until the duel."

I nodded. "I guess I was of one mind about that."

"We were," he agreed with a nod. "And look what we did? We had more power than we've ever had before, and we didn't lose control."

I blinked again, realizing he was right.

"That's what the mantle offers us," he whispered. "The power we need to do things. Good things. Things that need doing."

"But it's evil," I insisted by rote.

"Like Susan is evil?" he countered. When I failed to respond, he pressed on. "You heard her outside of the arena. How's she dealing with what she's become. Accepting her fate, and using it to do something."

"Assuming she wasn't lying."

"Assuming that," he conceded. "But did it feel like she was lying?"

I shook my head. "No."

My double nodded as well. "She's accepted what she is. She's accepted the power that comes with it, and the responsibility to do something with that power."

"Careful," I warned him with a weak smile. "Stan Lee might sue."

"You know I'm right," he said. "Because I'm you. You're me." He turned to look into the shadows. "And together, we can control this. We can use it to do some good. Make our corner of the world a better place."

I hesitated. "We'll also have to do bad things," I said softly. "The Queens have seen to that."

"Yes," he said. "That will happen no matter what we do. Whether it's us or the next sap they choose to be the Winter Knight, bad things are going to happen. That's the world we live in. But if we're in control, we'll decide how things play out. And maybe some good fruit can come of it."

I stared at the other me, my head dizzy.

At least part of what he was saying was true. There in the recesses of my mind, I could admit that to myself. I'd known it all along, even if I'd persisted in a desperate state of denial.

I was the Winter Knight.

He was right; there was no escaping that. Not yet, at least. I still harbored a hope that I could find a way out from beneath the Sidhe's yoke. To gain my freedom, while not sacrificing the protection I needed from the Council.

After becoming the Winter Knight, I'd looked into some of its history. Some of the people that had wielded it in the past. Most were monsters. Some were less so, but only by varying degrees. And the one thing they all had in common was that they died in the service of the Sidhe.

All save one.

The story of Tam Lin was the one thing that kept my hopes alive. But even that was little more than a pipe dream; I'd managed to confirm that the man of legend had indeed been the Winter Knight, but I'd been unable to determine if the stories were true.

Had he really escaped the Sidhe? Had he found a way out?

After months of searching, of investigating every lead I could find, I was no closer to the truth.

One thing I did know was that I couldn't continue on as I had.

The other me was right; this inner conflict had been tearing me apart. I freely admitted that the mantle terrified me. Using it for simple things, for veils and such, wasn't that dangerous. But when it came to tapping its true potential, I tended to give myself over to it; to let it rule my actions and thoughts, as if doing so separated me from the guilt.

But that was nothing more than a lie. It was still me doing those things. Just a different part of me, half of a whole.

I could recall one of the lessons my former master had taught me. Eb had never been eloquent, to say the least. "If you're going to do something, don't do it half-assed." Direct and to the point, that one.

But that's what I'd been doing. Lying to myself about who I was, what I was. Which had only caused problems. The episode in the hotel hadn't been the first time I'd lost control with the mantle; it'd only been the worst timed failure. One that had endangered those I had once called friends.

I was right. Something needed to change.

I inhaled sharply as I looked into the darkness.

I looked for a long time.

No matter how long I waited, it wouldn't change the truth. The mantle was still there, still waiting. Just like it would always be, until it either drove me mad or killed me. Assuming talking to myself wasn't an indication of the former already occurring.

No, to try and continue on unchanging would kill me. Unless I did something I thought I would never do. Something that had seemed unthinkable.

But perhaps it was time. Time to embrace the truth.

I was the Winter Knight.

"You really think we can do this?"

"I know we can. So do you," he said. "But you can't bottle everything up. You can't pretend the past didn't happen, or that you might be able to change it somehow. It's done and gone. Now we have to pick up the pieces as well as we can." He looked me in the eye. "Together."

He walked toward the edge of the shadows, and I slowly joined him. The form in the darkness shifted, drawing closer. It was still vague, still only barely humanoid. But as it shuffled forward, the outline of the familiar face was easier to see.

I extended my hand toward the darkness, my upraised palm slipping into the shadows. The thing waiting within them mirrored me, its own frozen limb extending forward, reaching slightly into the light. Our palms hovered inches from each other, the cold of its icy flesh chilling me even as the heat from my hand warmed it.

Perhaps the other me was right. The mantle was no living thing bent on twisting me; it was just power given purpose. The evil was already in me. I'd been fighting it ever since I was a child.

If that were the case, then it was a battle I'd already won countless times. One that I knew I could win again and again. Because I wouldn't allow myself to become a monster.

The mantle itself was just a tool, to be shaped and wielded by its bearer. It was something cold, but not cruel. Something dark, but not void of light.

Maybe that's what I had to be. The world was a dark place now. Maybe to survive in this world of grays, I needed to be something different. Something of the dark and of the light.

Not good. Not evil. But a bit of both.

Terrified, I took the step, just as it did the same. The step that brought us together. Neither of us was pulled to the other. We simply met along that line between shadow and light, balanced precariously between the two.

Not good. Not evil.

Something of both.