A Midwinter Fantasy by L. J. McDonald, Leanna Renee Hieber, Helen Scott Taylor Page A

see the dim figures beyond. A dark mist rose within, and Percy could hear its familiar hissing, trying to invite her in, insidious and also eerily seductive. This edge of shadow was a dangerous place for coming and going. And it wanted her, like it had before.
    As if through a veil, Percy recognized the headmistress, unsteady on her feet, surrounded by flickering shadows. The headmistress was in the midst of a battle.
    “This is the Liminal?” Percy asked.
    “Yes,” Constance murmured. “It’s here that the greatestchange of a soul can take effect. The danger is necessary because the transformation can be the richest. The Liminal can be a beautiful place, but it edges the Whisper-world, and with any darkness present . . . Well, it amplifies
all
things.”
    The mists of the Whisper-world swirled up around the edge of Rebecca’s skirts, clearly trying to hold her like shackles. But, Rebecca fought. And, who was the spirit beside her?
    Percy’s heart swelled in sudden recognition. “Jane!” she breathed. Close enough to touch her friends if she reached through the portal, Percy kept to the side, a bright candle at the base of a vast altar. She dared not step up and inside, not because she feared for herself, but for the child she carried.
    Jane looked out from the portal and smiled. “Hello, Percy. Could you spare us just a bit more of your light? Rebecca’s done what she must, but we’re still precarious. You’re just the one to tip the scales.”
    Rebecca didn’t seem able to hear past her internal fight.
    Percy squeezed in her hand the rosary Michael had blessed, staring deep into the offending, greedy shadows that wanted to make sadness a forever state throughout Creation. The burning in her breast intensified, searing. The unfortunate effect of a divine power using her mortal body was that there were limits, but as Percy had herself once lived a life domineered by melancholy, she was more than ready to give what she could for this battle. She’d be damned if such melancholy was going to hold Rebecca and feed the beast they’d already bested.
    “Headmistress, go on. Release your tears,” Jane was saying. “Don’t hold them in or give them power. Shed your tears upon the stones and leave them. When all is done, step into the light.”
    The headmistress looked up. She seemed to hear. Hercheeks were wet, but her face was more open than Percy had ever seen it.
    “Let that caged heart of yours free,” Jane urged. “I love you, Rebecca. I always have and I always will. You’re right about forgiveness. It’s time to begin again.”
    The friends embraced, and Rebecca’s healing tears flowed faster. Seeming to realize what came next, the two said good-bye—and Merry Christmas.
    Jane stepped from the portal. She appeared at Percy’s side, floating, changing from her solid form in the Whisper-world to her transparent, spectral buoyancy upon Earth. Inside the portal, Rebecca looked around, squinted out at them, apparently seeing only light and feeling that she was alone. More tears had to drain before she could start life anew.
    Placing a cool draft of a hand on Percy’s shoulder, Jane murmured, “Let her have a good cry; she needs it. Let sorrow drain into the river. When she’s done, carefully help her off the ledge. Now that the headmistress’s change of heart has freed me, I must be off to shake final sense into a vicar.”
    When Jane grinned, Percy returned the expression. “Sense? Indeed.” But her heart was heavy; they’d have to say goodbye again.
    “I’ll be back to spook you and your beloved,” Jane promised, anticipating her. “I know Alexi will be insulted if I don’t give him his fair haunting. He’ll never forgive me.”
    “Thank you. It’s so good to see you,” Percy murmured. “But, I am—we all are—so sorry to have lost you. Grateful for your sacrifice, but sorry.”
    Percy’s inner light, that otherworldly beacon of hope, flickered. Jane rolled her eyes. “Not you, too!