by Bailey James
Dad laughs. “Only if you keep seeing things, but I expect you to tell us if you do.” He levels a stern look in my direction.
“I will. I promise.” I mentally cross my fingers behind my back. I would say whatever it took to not see that psychiatrist. Whatever this horrible feeling is from is worse than hallucinating hot guys in mirrors.
Maybe you’re not hallucinating, logical me pipes up for the first time in days. Perhaps it is really happening, and you should listen to what Jackson is trying to tell you.
At home, I walk alone to my room, leaving my parents and Ty in the kitchen.
I’m all right. The CT said so, and maybe logical me is right. Perhaps, if Jackson does come again, I should find out what the hell is going on. With that thought, I pull my mirror out and place it back on the wall, smiling when only my bruised face reflects back to me.
With nothing else to do, and Ty still talking with my parents, I decide to sit outside by our own pool. It’s gorgeous out, especially for June. It can’t be any hotter than eighty or so. Besides, that way, I won’t keep fighting looking into the mirror.
Opening the book I brought down with me, I only read for a few minutes before a hand grips my thigh gently. I look over the book to see Ty smiling back at me.
“Hey,” I say, with my own sad smile.
“I want to apologize for forcing you into the funhouse. I was just trying to help you. But your parents talked to me about how much damage I could have done by forcing you to do that before you’re ready. Especially if this is just a strange symptom of PTSD.”
I sigh. I’m not mad at Ty for pushing me. I’m the one who agreed to do it. “It’s okay, Ty. You didn’t push. You suggested and I agreed.” I smile at him to prove my words.
He returns it and nudges my legs to sit on the lounger with me, pulling me into his lap. He smiles and leans over to kiss me. My pulse skitters the minute his lips touch mine, just like always, and I revel in the sensation. He trails his tongue across my bottom lip, and even though he’s done the same thing at least a hundred times before, this time it reminds me of when Jackson had done the same with his thumb.
Tyler’s touch is nice, I think, but Jackson’s lit something in me I just can’t forget.
I yank back. Where the hell had that thought come from?
Tyler knit his brows together. “Everything okay, beautiful?”
I nod. “Just tired.”
He smiles and pushes my head so I’m resting it on his shoulder. I let out a happy, contented sigh. He kisses the top of my head before glancing around the backyard. “We should have stayed here. I still can’t believe how awesome this looks.”
Mom had it designed based on a Japanese theme. In the back of the yard is a vast Camphor tree. Underneath it is a Koi pond filled with lily pads and Koi. A little stream leads from the pond to a rock waterfall that spills into the pool. They don’t actually connect, but the layout gives the appearance that it does.
The pool itself is oblong; the waterfall pours into the hot tub part of it before spilling into the main pool. The deck is made from paving stones that look like large river rocks. As a whole, the backyard looks like a beautiful oasis.
Ty stands and walks over to the pool, where he kneels down and touches the water. “Wow. It’s like bathwater today.”
I sigh wistfully, already imaging the water against my skin. “I wish we could go swimming.”
He grins at me. “Not until your cast is off, beautiful.”
“I know.”
He strides back over and brushes a hand down my cheek. “Are you tired?”
Despite my exhaustion, my smile blooms. “I’m fine.”
“You look exhausted.” He rubs at the bruises under my eyes.
“So do you,” I retort with a laugh.
He ignores that and says, “You need sleep.”
My heart swells at how sweet he’s being, even if it is kind of annoying. “No, really, I’m fine.”
Instead of continuing the argument, he picks me up and carries me into the house. I don’t even argue. There’s no point. And the fact that he can lift me up like I weigh no more than a bag of feathers has my stomach fluttering.
Mom stands the minute she sees us. “Is she all right? What happened?”
Ty peers over at her but doesn’t stop. “She’s fine. She just needs to sleep and won’t listen to me.”
Mom places her hands on her hips. “Young lady, if you’re tired, you’re taking a nap. End of story.”
I roll my eyes but nod as Ty continues up the stairs. There’s no way I’m winning against these two, and I know it. I do feel better knowing they’re both trying to take care of me, though. It fills me with a warm, gooey goodness.
Ty places me on the bed and takes off my shoes before pulling the covers over me. “Sleep, beautiful.” He presses a kiss to my forehead, but he needn’t have said anything, because exhaustion is already pulling me under. I guess I really did need that nap.
When I wake, the light looks precisely as it had before I fell asleep.
Hmm, guess I didn’t sleep that long.
It’s then I realize that, for the first time in days, my arm actually feels pretty good, even better than it had before I fell asleep. Not to mention the various aches and pains I have are all but gone. I decide to take that as a good sign and check to see if my luck will hold out for everything.
I march directly to the mirror, watching my feet, my heart hammering away in my chest. It’s okay, Lily; you’ll be fine. Jackson doesn’t exist. He’s just a figment of your imagination. Just look into the mirror, and you’ll be fine.
I look up and choke back a scream when Jackson, yet again, stares back at me.
Chapter Eight
Instead of screaming, crying, or any of the other things I really want to do, I sink to the ground and rest my head on the glass, feeling its warmth seep into the bones that have suddenly turned to ice.
“Not you again,” I whisper.
He kneels on the other side of the glass. “Yeah, me again,” Jackson says in a strained voice. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “I think I’ve lost it. This isn’t possible. You shouldn’t exist. I shouldn’t be talking to mirrors.”
He huffs out a laugh. “I know the feeling. The first few times this happened to me, I was pretty sure I’d gone nuts.” His voice is soft and, dare I say it, understanding.
I sigh. “Yeah, well, that makes two of us then.”
“Where did you go, Lily? I was worried you had to go back to the hospital, but the few times I saw you, it didn’t look like one.” His other hand brushes the glass over my face, and I swear I almost feel it.
“I went with Ty to the hotel my friends are staying at. My sister thought it would be a good idea for me to get out of the house, and my mom agreed.”
“Ty is your boyfriend?”
“Yep.” I pop the ‘p.’
He pulls his hand away, and I follow the movement before looking into his eyes, which sparkle with amusement, but I also see something else I can’t quite place. Anger? Jealousy? It’s hard to tell.
“Oh. Did the trip help?” Jackson asks.
His voice is calm, but, again, there’s something about his tone…
I have to laugh, even as I fight the urge to weep. “Obviously not.”
“You still think you’re going crazy?” His tone turns serious, and his expression saddens.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I mean, this feels real, but it’s just so…unreal.”
His hand touches the glass where mine is. The glass heats a fraction as it did before. “I know how you feel. I was ready to check myself into a mental health facility. I started researching brain aneurysms.”
I glance up and meet his eyes with a small smile. “That sounds familiar.”
He c
huckles, but his hand flexes once. “Anyway, I think I had a bit of an easier time since I wasn’t just in a car accident,” he winks at me. Still, there’s an edge of worry in those gorgeous emerald eyes, “because I moved quickly from brain aneurysms to asking questions about what I was seeing. I eventually stumbled across a story about a man who had a similar experience. He was older, but there are certain similarities. I read his whole online posting.”
“He posted it on the internet?”
Why would someone do that? But I admit I’m intrigued. If this is real and if this isn’t only happening to us, then maybe I can finally get some answers.
Jackson gives me a slight smile, adjusting so he’s sitting on the floor. How he managed to fold his legs in front of him, I have no idea. Those suckers are long.
“He said it was to try and find anyone else this had happened to. He was sure he wasn’t the only one, but—at that time—he was.”
“Did he ever figure out what had happened?”
Jackson shakes his head. “No. Since he was relatively sure he was the first and didn’t have any kind of scientific background—he was a computer programmer—he had no idea what was going on. He’d just had a physical and knew what he was seeing wasn’t some kind of brain damage, but he worried about going crazy.” He gives me a knowing look.
Okay, so maybe we aren’t the only ones. What did it mean?
“He mentioned that there was a woman on the other side, and they talked. He never mentioned having to touch the glass, though.” His face turns thoughtful. “I wonder why? Maybe he didn’t have to…” he trails off.
“What happened to them?” I ask to draw his attention back to me.
His eyes refocus and land on me. “As far as I know, they never figured out how to make it a portal. He was eventually committed, but I don’t think he was mentally compromised.”
I frown. I don’t like that conclusion. “Other than this,” I gesture to the mirror, “what makes you think that?”
“Well, he said something about some people coming over to talk to him about what he was seeing. They got angry when he wouldn’t go into specifics. A few weeks later, he was committed.”
Well, that’s not suspicious in the least.
“How did they find him?”
“He didn’t say, but it’s pretty easy to find out where someone lives here,” Jackson shrugs. “They probably just grabbed his address from the website he was posting at.”
That’s a scary thought.
All right. Well, let’s think this through logically. Even if there isn’t a whole lot of logic here to begin with.
“Why wouldn’t he go into specifics? I would have thought he would have wanted to talk to anyone who may have known what was going on,” I say.
“He wrote that he didn’t feel those people were truthful about why they were there. That they asked way too many questions about the woman. But they didn’t even go and inspect the mirror he was seeing her through. Just wanted to know if she was here. Where was she from? Could he contact her at will? What her name was. That kind of stuff.”
That is indeed strange. I’d question it, too. “I wonder why they were so interested in the woman. Did he ever find out who they were or why they were so interested in him?”
“Not that I could find. A week later, his journal ends, and I found out he was admitted to an inpatient mental health facility the day after his last entry. I tried getting in to see him, but they have him under lock and key. They wouldn’t answer any questions about him, but they gave me the third degree about why I was there.”
Worry seeps into my nerve endings. “What did you tell them?”
“That I wanted to do a report on him about his so-called ‘psychotic break.’” He makes finger quotes. “Then they got really cagey. Wouldn’t even admit he was there, said they didn’t have anyone there by that name and never had, before escorting me to my car.”
“And you’re sure he was there? Maybe you went to the wrong place. Or he was released or something.”
“I’m sure. It was in all the news media. He’d been a big name in the world of computer development, and they had a whole page dedicated to him being committed. They did an interview with his girlfriend. She said that they’d been engaged, but he’d dumped her out of the blue. That was a few days before he met with those people. He’d told her he’d met someone else.” He sends me a look. “I think he was talking about the woman.”
Curiouser and curiouser. “So, what did you do then?”
“I went and tried to find other sites. I knew what to look for after that. It wasn’t long before I found someone else. This man mentioned the research he did on the situation and how he thought it was another dimension. Apparently, he was a scientist over on the Mars Colony—”
“You have a colony on Mars?” I interrupt, because how cool is that?
He looks confused for a minute. “I’m guessing you don’t.” I shake my head and he smiles, before answering me. “Yeah. It’s pretty neat. My mom took me when I was thirteen. We have one on the moon and one on Europa, and on two of Saturn’s moons.”
“Wow,” I breathe.
He grins, but it falls when he continues. “Anyway. The scientist—the second one I found—was actually performing research on developing a faster way to get to Mars. It’s the main colony. Right now, we can get there in about twenty-four hours using the fastest shuttle we have. On average, it’s about thirty hours. He’d hoped to cut down the time to mere seconds.”
Seconds? To get to Mars? Amazing.
He pauses, looking at me, and I realize he’s waiting for me to say something. I grin in acknowledgment. “Did he? Accomplish that?”
He flashes a quick grin, and his sexy dimple shines, making me want to sigh. “Well, he wanted to perfect a wormhole using interdimensional transportation.”
I press myself closer to the glass. “Did he do it?”
That would be so cool.
“Yes, but he stopped the research during the trial phase.”
I blink. Oh. “Why?”
Jackson frowns. “That, I don’t know. The only thing he states was that interdimensional travel had bad effects on his test subjects. He alluded to behavioral problems, but that was it. I think the only reason he even mentioned it was to prove he wasn’t a crackpot.”
I want to ask what he means by behavioral problems, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know any more than that, and I’m not entirely sure I really want to learn more.
“You’re probably right,” I say instead. “What happened to him?”
“He disappeared. Just like another man did a few months later.”
I frown. “That’s not good.”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s not.”
“What about the others? How many did you say there were?”
He looks directly into my eyes. “We make couple six.”
“Six? There are five others like us? What in the hell is going on?”
He shrugs, looking frustrated. “I don’t know. There’s not much on the rest of them. One entry each. And that’s right before they either disappeared or were killed.”
A shower of ice water pours over me. “Killed? Who was killed? How many?”
He averts his eyes to the ground, and his long fingers pick at his carpet. “Two. Both women. They were found inside the homes of the men from here. Those men were arrested for it, but they both deny it, and both the murders were done the same way. Execution style one shot from a laser rifle between the eyes.”
Suddenly dizzy, I place my head between my knees and force myself to breathe. “Why?” I rasp.
“I don’t know, but believe me, I will find out.” He sprawls out across his floor, so he’s face-to-face with me. “I promise I will never let anything happen to you.”
I raise my eyes to meet his. “You can’t promise t
hat. You’re over there, and I’m over here.” My voice is barely above a whisper.
His eyes turn hard. “I will do whatever it takes to make sure nothing happens to you.”
I know I should be suspicious. Even if we forget how not possible this is supposed to be, I have no reason to trust Jackson, but there’s just something—call it a gut feeling, or maybe even women’s intuition—but I know I can trust him. Perhaps more than I can trust anyone else in my life.
I shove that thought away; I don’t want to think about it.
“Why?”
“Because you’re…important…to me.” There’s a heaviness to his words, a conviction behind his tone.
My heart somersaults, and the mirror flashes once with a bright gold light; the surface appears almost thin enough to pass my hand through to the other side.
We both gasp and stare at it as, just as fast as it turned thin, it returns to its somewhat normal soft state.
“What was that?” I ask, my eyes wide and fixed on his.
He shrugs, but his eyes narrow. “I’ve no idea. It’s never done that before.”
I take a few steadying breaths and make myself sit upright. “Okay, well, neither of us will post anything on the internet.”
“Agreed.” He’s still staring at the glass.
“Okay, so…then what?”
“Well, my computer crashed.” He tears his gaze from the mirror to meet mine again.
The anticipation that has been building in me since he started talking falls. “What do you mean crashed? What does that mean for us?”
“It crashed. Well, to be honest, it was zapped.”
“Zapped?” I rub the bridge of my nose, trying to get rid of the headache that’s forming.
“I think someone decided I was finding out a little too much.”
I stop rubbing but leave my fingers to squeeze either side of my nose. “Why? How would they do that, and how do they know what you’re looking for?”
He grins. “I’ll get to that in a sec. Okay, so my computer crashed, and after the obligatory kicking and screaming at it, I decided to go and use my mom’s computer. I sat there waiting for the damn thing to boot.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s old, so it takes forever. So, here I am, kicking my feet against the wall under the desk, and I hear a click. I look down and see this little door is open. Being the nosey person I am, I crawl underneath the desk, reach in and pull out a book.”