Do I have any excuse for this being so horribly late? Unfortunately, no, but enjoy anyway.

To Nilla: Thank you for the review.

"Matthieu?" Matthew cracked open his eyes. "Are you ill?"

His father was leaning down over him with a worried look in his eyes. Matthew sat up from his nest of blankets on the couch with a yawn. It wasn't even light out yet, but his father was already dressed for the day.

"Non, Papa," he said tiredly. "Just a rough night. I couldn't get to sleep so I came downstairs."

Francis tsked at him. "You should take care of yourself properly, Matthieu. And you wonder why I have asked Arthur to check up on you?"

"S-sorry. I'll be more careful."

Francis nodded. "Just so you remember, my flight is this afternoon. I have to head out early to make sure that the appropriate preparations are made. Come! Give your Papa a hug."

Matthew did so. His father kissed him on the top of the head. "Arthur will be coming every few days to check on you. There is money in the top cupboard for food if you need it. I should be back in two weeks."

"Bye, Papa."

"Bye, chou. Be safe."

After his father left, Matthew got up and wandered into the kitchen. There was no use in going back to sleep when he had to get up in half an hour anyway. Despite being up early, he wasn't in the mood to cook his usual pancakes. So he pulled a box of cereal out of the cupboard and sloshed some milk into a cereal bowl. He grabbed a spoon out of the drawer and sat down at the kitchen table.

In the calm of the morning, Matthew couldn't help but wonder what had happened up in his room. He suppressed yawn and began to pick at his food. It wasn't a spirit. Or at least an ordinary one. Very few people could actually see spirits and be affected by them and as far as Matthew knew, he wasn't one of them. So what could it be then? Some type of fae playing a trick on him? It wouldn't have been the first time that it had happened. They would occasionally hang about after Arthur had left and play pranks on him. It was especially irritating since he couldn't see them and he wouldn't put it past them. He had been a small child the last time that they had scared him that badly.

But they had also gotten bored of him shortly after he had lost any fear of their trickery. Still, Matthew couldn't help but hope that it was the fae playing tricks on him. The alternative could be far worse.

Despite these thoughts or in spite of his thoughts, Matthew grabbed Kumajirou off of the couch on his way back up to his room. He held his beloved stuffed bear out in front of him for protection as he entered the room. The early morning sun filtered in through the curtains casting a hazy glow throughout the still room. He could smell the faint smell of must that still permeated his room despite the cleaning he had done over the past few days. The mirror itself sat undisturbed with the blanket that Matthew had thrown over it last night hanging haphazardly from the frame.

Matthew approached it. With Kumajirou still pressed to his chest, he cautiously reached out one hand and lifted a corner of the blanket. Only the gleam of old glass was revealed. No haunted blue eyes peered out of the frame and no sounds of pain or gunfire greeted his ears. Perhaps it had been a nightmare? In the bright safety of daylight it seemed silly to be scared of a piece of furniture that Arthur himself had checked for spells.

Matthew began to chuckle nervously. Perhaps he had imagined it? Even though Arthur had scanned the mirror, maybe he had been so nervous that he had dreamt of the sounds around the mirror? Matthew shook his head at his own silliness and began to get ready for the day. Yet when he left the room for the final time that morning, he couldn't ignore the sick feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. One that told him that he was dead wrong.

Matthew yawned again as he sat next to Gilbert at lunch later that day.

"You look tired, Matthew."

"Just had a rough night. Couldn't sleep," Matthew said.

"Do you wanna hang out after school today with me and Kat?"

"Sorry, Gil," Matthew said. "I'm busy tonight."

"Awww. C'mon Birdie!" Gilbert complained. "It won't be nearly as fun without you."

"If I could back out, I would," Matthew said. "But I have a project that's due tomorrow."

"Now that is lame."

Matthew rolled his eyes.

It was mid-afternoon by the time Matthew got home. He unlocked the door and headed straight upstairs to deposit his stuff in his room. He pulled on the trapdoor. Slowly it creaked and groaned its way to the ground making Matthew wonder if he should have it oiled or not. A low roar of rushing air met his ears.

"Did I leave my window open?"

Matthew ascended the stairs quickly. The blanket that he had thrown over the mirror was fluttering madly in the gusting wind. He turned towards the window and saw that it was still closed. He then looked back towards the mirror. It was exactly as he had feared.

Matthew raced down the stairs so fast that he nearly fell. He pushed the staircase back in the ceiling and grabbed the cordless off of the receiver. His fingers were trembling so badly that it took him two tries to punch in Arthur's number. He held his breath as it began to ring on the other end. What would he do if Arthur wasn't home?

"Hello?" Matthew nearly sobbed in relief.

"A-Arthur?"

"What is it lad? You sound positively frazzled."

"You were wrong," Matthew said. "Th-there's something wrong with that mirror. When I got home today- I thought the window was open when I first stepped into the room. B-But the wind was coming from the mirror itself."

"Stay downstairs or better yet, get out of the house until I get there," Arthur said. "I have to pick up some things so that we can seal whatever it is back inside. Do you have salt?"

"W-would drive way salt do?" Matthew asked. "I don't really have any table salt... would driveway salt do?"

"Yes. Salt is salt, though table salt is generally purer. We'll just need to use a thicker line," Arthur said. "I'll be over in half an hour."

"Thanks, Arthur."

"Stay safe, Matthew."

As soon as Matthew hung up the phone, he grabbed Kumakichi off of the couch and buried his nose into the bear's fur. He breathed deeply and allowed the familiar scent of acrylic to sooth him. A bang came from upstairs and he tightened his arms on the stuffed animal. It was a good thing his father wasn't here right now.

Twenty minutes later a car screeched into the driveway. Arthur stepped out, wearing a dark purple hooded robe. Matthew got up and opened the door before his cousin had even reached the porch step.

"Did you grab the salt from the garage yet?" Arthur asked in greeting.

Matthew nodded and clutched Kumakiko tighter.

"Good," Arthur pulled out a second robe from the large bag that he was holding. "Put this on. It shows respect to the gods that we'll be asking help from tonight."

"I know, Arthur."

Matthew pulled on the robe over his clothes and tied the sash. He flicked the hood up so that it shadowed his eyes.

"I didn't think you would have the right coloured candles, so I just brought the eight we'll need."

"Thanks for doing this," Matthew said. "You didn't have to."

"It's not a problem, Matthew," Arthur said. "You know you can come to me for help."

"Brace yourself," Matthew pulled at the string and the staircase unfolded. But unlike earlier in the day, the sound of roaring wind did not greet his ears. "That's odd. It was really loud earlier."

"Oh, whatever or whomever it is will be up and working on it the moment that it realizes exactly what we're doing," Arthur said.

"What ARE we doing?" Matthew asked.

"I already know that I cannot break the spell on this mirror. So we're going to be placing a spell on top of a spell. It will neutralize the effects of the disturbances," Arthur said.

Arthur handed the candles off to Matthew. "There are two red, two yellow, two white and two black candles. What I want you to do is to place the two red in the north, the two yellow in the east, the two black in the west and the two white to the south. And make sure the candles are evenly spaced."

Matthew jumped up to obey.

"And make sure that you don't touch the covering until I tell you to. I want to do a basic containment spell first so that I can examine the mirror without any disturbances and see what I missed last time," Arthur grabbed two well used knives out of his bag. As soon as Matthew was done, he pulled up the hood of his robe and motioned for Matthew to do the same.

"The spell will be stronger with two of us," he said at Matthew's questioning glance. He pushed the second knife into Matthew's hands. "Step into the circle with me and repeat after me."

"O great spirit of the North! Spirit of valour, courage and protection, we, noble heirs-"

"Can you go a bit more slowly?" Matthew said.

"Matthew! Lad, you can't just interrupt me like that. We're trying to get the gods to aid us. But yes, I'll go a bit more slowly for you." Arthur raised the knife over the his wrist. He extended his arm over one of the two red candles and faced the northern part of the circle. Beside him Matthew did the same.

"O great spirit of the North! Spirit of valour, courage and protection in battle, we, noble heirs of the Kirkland house beseech thee to lend us your powers so that we may be successful in our ritual this night." Matthew hesitantly repeated Arthur's words.

"In return we offer thee a humble gift." At the last word, Arthur drew the blade gently over his wrist. Blood beaded around the wound and a drop traced its way down his arm and fell. The drop struck the candle and immediately burst into flame. A drop of Matthew's blood hit the other candle an instant later, causing it to light as well.

Arthur walked over to the two candles facing east. "O kind spirit of the East, spirit of light, birth and care, we, noble heirs of the Kirkland house beseech thee to lend us your powers so that we may be successful in our ritual this night."

This time as the candles lit, a gust of wind blew around the room, making the corners of the blanket covering the mirror flutter. Matthew shivered and felt goosebumps on his arms as the temperature fell. Beside him, Arthur also let out a little shiver of his own before moving on.

"O faithful spirit of the South, spirit of peace, hope and compassion, we noble heirs of the Kirkland house beseech thee to lend us your powers so that we may be successful in our ritual this night."

Screams and the sound of gunfire greeted the lighting of the third candles.

"Ignore it, Matthew!" Arthur shouted over his shoulder as he moved onto the fourth and final pair of candles in the circle.

"O rebellious spirit of the West, spirit of determination, success and unity, we noble heirs of the Kirkland house beseech thee to lend us your powers so that we may be successful in our ritual this night."

The wind kicked up and the blanket slipped off of the mirror. It fell on top of one of the southern candles, which defying all odds didn't even flicker. Or even burn the blanket. Instead the flame continued to burn merrily as if the blanket over it was from a different reality altogether. Another round gun fire blasted out from behind him. Matthew turned towards the source of the sound. In one powerful gust, the wind knocked the hood of his robe off. His hair billowed away from his face and he felt his eyes tear up at the force of the wind. He brought up a hand to shield him and his reflection caught his gaze.

The surface of the mirror was rippling, as if it was a pond that had been disturbed by a child's cast stone. Matthew's reflection rippled with it, and he found himself entranced.

"M-Matthew," Arthur's teeth chattered. "Finish this before whatever is in the mirror breaks free!"

Matthew heard this from far away, but it didn't seem to matter anymore. The mirror's rippling halted, and someone else was staring back at him. It was an older boy, almost a man dressed as a soldier and covered in blood. He held a bayonet at his side.

"Matthew get away from there!"

The determined expression on his face didn't mask wearied blue eyes that made Matthew's heart clench.

"MATTHEW!"

A haze descended on his mind, forcing his body to relax. He reached forward, fingers outstretched, perhaps he could save him? Matthew watched as the boy in the mirror did the same. Gently, he pressed his palm against the glass, and again, the soldier did the same. They stayed like that for a moment before his hand was sucked in by an invisible force. Matthew let out a soft cry as he was dragged towards the mirror, but found his body refusing to resist. He looked up into the soldier's face and saw a look of grim triumph there instead of sorrow as Matthew's hand began to appear on the other side of the mirror.

Fingers wrapped around his wrist in a bruising grip and he cried out as he was dragged closer. Why hadn't he listened to Arthur and avoided looking at the mirror? He was dimly aware of his cousin coming up behind him. Arthur's arms wrapped around his waist tightly and began trying to pull Matthew away from the mirror. The trance broke and Matthew began to yank and struggle against the entity in the mirror.

"I-It's not letting go!" he shrieked despite himself and began pulling even harder.

Arthur just continued to tug at his waist and inch by painful inch their strength overwhelmed that which was in the mirror. Matthew let out another yelp as his wrist reappeared with the being's hand still attached to it. The spirit, or whatever it was continued to pull back for a few more seconds, before all resistance ceased. Matthew and Arthur stumbled backward and fell. Matthew felt the breath leave his lungs as something landed on top of him. He inhaled a couple of times desperately before his lungs rushed full of air again.

A blond head was interrupting his vision and it wasn't Arthur's. "Thank you," the voice had a distinct American twang to it. The grip around him tightened and Matthew could distinctly smell the blood and mud that were slowly soaking into his clothes. "Thank you so much for saving me."

"L-Let go of me!" Matthew tried to push the man off in vain. The stranger felt as heavy and as cold as iron and was draped over him as such.

The American didn't move. "He said move, you git!" Arthur seized the man by his shoulders and shoved him off. The American fell to the side and Matthew was hauled roughly to his feet by Arthur. Without saying another word, his cousin headed back over to the bag he had brought with him and pulled out another book.

"Don't. Please!"

Arthur paused. "Give me one good reason not to send you to the world beyond."

"I was trapped!" The stranger put his hands up in front of his face as if warding off a blow.

"A likely story," Arthur snorted. "I saw you almost pull the lad straight into the mirror and you expect me to believe that you weren't trying to take him?"

"I wasn't! It wasn't my fault," the man cried out. "It was the mirror's fault! It's evil!"

Arthur's eye twitched dangerously. "So you wouldn't mind if we destroy the mirror then. Jolly good then. Matthew, could -"

"Don't! Please don't."

"Are you or are you not the aggressor here!"

"I don't-"

"That's it!" Arthur shouted. "Prepare to be resealed!"

"Please! Please, don't make me beg," the blond man said.

"Ar-Arthur, p-perhaps we should at least let him tell us what happened to him first."

"Matthew-"

"What can it hurt?" Matthew pushed on. "I don't think that he was going to pull me into the m-mirror."

"I really wasn't," the man chimed in.

"Shut it, you!" Arthur snapped. "Matthew, I don't think that would be the most appropriate course of action."

Matthew shook his head. "I just don't think we're getting the entire story here. What if he is who he is trying to say that he is. Would you like to have that on your conscience?"

Arthur hesitated. "I suppose you're right. However, I must insist that he is properly contained for his explanation."

He turned and looked at the man. "Go stand in the centre of the room. Matthew, take the bag of salt that you brought up earlier and pour a circle around our guest."

Matthew scrambled to obey. The stranger held still as he dumped a ring of salt around him.

"What will this do?"

"Try to step over it."

The young man did so and yelped when his form began to smoke. Arthur nodded in satisfaction.

"So, tell us about yourself," Arthur said.

The entity took a deep breath and stood. "My name is Alfred F. Jones and I have been trapped in that mirror for nearly one hundred years."

Thoughts?