Boy in the Mirror

by Robert J. Duperre

  He squeezed her hands one last time before releasing them. His gaze lingered on her as he walked back toward his friends. Jacqueline laughed nervously to herself and stood there, alone among a sea of people, waiting for the butterflies to fly home so she could walk without stumbling.

  Outside, the massive horde of students drifted toward the long line of cars waiting at the curb. Jacqueline found her friends standing there, all strangely silent. She approached them. Ronni turned around and grinned, but Annette gave a sharp look, and Ronni’s gaze dropped to the pavement.

  “Guys?” Jacqueline said.

  Annette glared, Olivia smirked, and Neil shook his head. None answered.

  Finally, Annette’s eyes narrowed. “A whole lotta fun that was,” she said coldly.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Him? Him? What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing? Why’re you so mad? It was just a dance.”

  “It was more than that,” her friend grunted. “That’s why you asked us here, isn’t it? Just in case?”

  “Um…”

  Three sets of eyes glowered at her. Ronni continued to stare at the ground.

  “There’s your aunt’s car,” said Neil. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Mitzy greeted them cheerily, but her expression soured when she looked over the clan she was responsible for ushering home. Everyone got into the car without a word. Jacqueline’s friends crammed into the back seat.

  The ride home was torturous. No one spoke and Mitzy’s eyes kept flitting to Jacqueline, sitting in the passenger seat, as if to ask her what was wrong. Jacqueline kept quiet, not wanting to make her friends even more angry. She could already hear them snort in disgust.

  Her friends were dropped off, Annette last. She slammed the car door before storming up the walkway to her house. After she disappeared inside, Mitzy backed out of the driveway and headed for home.

  “Anything you want to tell me?” she asked.

  “Not really,” Jacqueline muttered.

  “You sure?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Well okay then.”

  Jacqueline closed her eyes and imagined dancing in Todd’s arms.

  Before she knew it, they were home. Aunt and niece walked quietly into the house. Jacqueline slipped out of her uncomfortable shoes, poured herself a glass of orange juice from the fridge, and made for the stairs. Mitzy lingered behind her, grasping the rail of the stairwell when Jacqueline was halfway up.

  “Was he worth it?” Mitzy asked.

  Jacqueline turned and smiled at her aunt. “He was,” she said.

  Mitzy offered her a sad little grin. “That’s all you can ask for, I guess.”

  “Yup.”

  “And by the way, you really do look ravishing in that dress.”

  Jacqueline smiled, then rushed up the rest of the stairs and swept into her room. She flopped down on the bed, humming one of the tunes she and Todd had slow-danced to, her hands clasped over her heart.

  It was only when she paused in her humming that she heard another, lower sound coming from her dresser drawer. Jacqueline shot up with a start, flung open the drawer, and pulled out her compact. The metal casing was warm to the touch. Fumbling with nervous fingers, she placed the compact on the dresser and opened it.

  There was Mal, his silver hair ratty, his face pale. A sad smile came over his lips.

  “I’m so sorry, Jackie,” the boy in the mirror said in a hoarse voice. “I don’t know what happened. But I’m back now.”

  A lump formed in Jacqueline’s throat. She broke down and cried.

  CHAPTER 21

  The night was black and haunting. The weather was cold, the rain falling from the sky stung with icy teeth. The mere sight of those raindrops dappling the pavement caused the Prophet to shiver.

  He knew the Gorgon was close, but her trail had dried up, forcing him to join the wandering, mortal denizens of this world. During the day he hid in backyard sheds or abandoned barns, awaiting darkness. At night he walked the streets, hands in his pockets, head down to hide his unnatural, perceptive eyes.

  So far the search had been fruitless. None of the humans whose path he crossed showed any signs of having any purpose beyond to breathe, breed, and die. He didn’t know where to go, and his true self, still growing inside him, was in constant need of sustenance. His borrowed body was breaking down, but he refused to rest. Sleep meant there were fewer hours in the day to find his mate. Sleep meant he had to dream, and in those dreams his body’s prior owner ruled.

  A figure strolled down the street, covering its head against the incessant rain. The Prophet pulled aside the curtain he hid behind, squinted, and forced his eyes to filter in as much light as possible. It was just another normal human, heading home after a day of doing whatever people did in this strange time.

  Frustrated, the Prophet slunk back from the window. When he tapped his foot on the floor, his toes splashed lightly in a half-coagulated puddle of blood.

  He’d taken this house the day before. The elderly couple who’d owned it had been easy prey, but they made for a paltry meal. He needed more, and he needed it now.

  The Prophet walked to the bedroom, where the two eviscerated bodies were splayed on the floor. He opened the closet and found a change of clothes that were far too big. He sighed, cursing his body. He needed to blend; walking around in tatters that stank from months in the wilderness made him stand out. He put the clothes on anyway.

  After he dressed, he splashed warm water on his face and willed his second set of teeth to withdraw into his gums. The Prophet exited the house and strolled with his hands in his pockets. A group of laughing youngsters passed to his right. They were all normal. He ushered his borrowed body onward.

  He wandered for hours, through neighborhoods where electric candles glowed behind the windows of nearly every house. Cars continued to barrel down the street, including one with a bank of blue and red lights on its hood. He knew the knights of this time would be in that car, and he turned down the next side street to avoid them. The road ascended then flattened out, the rain ceased. A few minutes later, a sudden buzzing filled the Prophet’s ears, and his heart began pumping blood faster through his borrowed veins.

  The area up ahead was filled with humans and awash with light. Chattering voices filled the air, along with laughter and rapid footfalls. A group of people exited the gathering and walked in the Prophet’s direction. He ducked behind a nearby hedgerow.

  The humans drew ever closer, and the Prophet edged aside a thatch of vegetation to see more clearly. His eyes widened, his breath quickened. The sixty needle-sharp teeth reflexively extended from his gums.

  Her!

  She strolled at the center of a group of five, like a lone star in the murky heavens blazing with blue light. The Gorgon was a beacon that drew the Prophet out of hiding. Mesmerized and overcome with hunger, it took a great effort to keep from revealing himself. Only when the group passed did he emerge and follow. The buzzing in his ears doubled.

  Deep in his borrowed body, woven around his musculature, his true form begged for life.

  Despite the hunger, he kept his distance. The group talked amongst themselves, ignorant of the danger that lurked behind them, while the heavenly creature’s light washed through every fiber of the Prophet’s being, as if sprung from the Lightbringer himself.

  His prey turned down a street where the houses were packed closely together. One by one they left the Gorgon’s side, disappearing into the houses on either side of the road. A chill ran through the Prophet’s bones. This was it. His rebirth was close at hand, as had been promised.

  Finally, but a single companion remained, a boy. The Prophet drew closer. At the next block the boy shouted, “See ya tomorrow, Penny!” and darted up a driveway. The Gorgon was all alone. She held her arms out to her sides and walked with her head thrown back, a look of ecstasy on her face. Tendrils of smoky, bluish light exited her mouth, her nose, her eyes, drifting ever upwar
d toward the heavens.

  When the girl rounded the next corner, the Prophet quickened his pace. He struck without a sound, teeth piercing his mate’s neck, claws gouging her cheeks, before she could do as much as whimper. He dragged her down a narrow path between houses while he suckled, and the brilliant light radiating off the girl intensified. The Prophet could feel the energy pulse through him, warming his core. He drank down the girl’s essence greedily, tasting the tanginess, the saltiness, the sweetness of pure life.

  The girl’s heart stopped beating, her arms grew limp. The Prophet let her fall to the ground, watching as the azure glow faded to nothing. He tilted his head and stared down at her body, waiting. Nothing happened, not to his current body or the one growing inside him. He gazed up at the billowing black clouds undulating against the even deeper black in the night sky. Something wasn’t right. He looked down at the girl’s corpse once more.

  He sobbed caustic tears.

  She wasn’t the one. She was just some unfortunate soul who, through an accident of biology, happened to share a common blueprint with the one he pursued. The Prophet shook his head. The universe—every universe—was filled with entities separated by the tiniest of organic threads. And those of similar origin were compelled to gather around each other, much like the Prophet had in his prior life, beasts of the void uniting to free the Lightbringer from His prison.

  Among the many you shall find the One.

  He kicked the girl’s corpse and crept away, leaving it there to be discovered come morning. His search wasn’t over. His only solace was the fact his stomach no longer rumbled. At least the false Gorgon had given him that.

  CHAPTER 22

  Jacqueline spent the first two days of Mal’s reappearance listening to him tell her how much he’d missed her, and she told him the same. She read to him from Mitzy’s books and slept with the compact open on her pillow so he could watch over her. He looked wounded and distraught, so she didn’t dare ask about why he’d disappeared in the first place.

  Then the weekend ended, and that Monday her friends started ignoring her. When she arrived at the table for lunch, all but Ronni turned their backs on her until she went away. In the halls, they’d turn around and walk in the other direction whenever they saw her, again with the exception of Ronni, who simply kept her head down and whimpered. Annette even asked to have her seat moved in art class, taking a new spot in the back of the room.

  To make matters worse, it wasn’t like she could go to Todd for company. “I had a great time,” he said when she tentatively approached him in the hub after third period. “I like you a lot. You’re a special girl. One of a kind. But I’m a traditional guy. I wanna take it slow. Okay?”

  From then on, even though he made a point to say hi in the hall, it was like the dance never happened. Add that on top of the fact she’d woken up that morning with her period, and it had all the makings of a Very Bad Day. It was a good thing Mal had come back, because if he hadn’t been there to talk her down when she slipped into the bathroom to cry, she definitely would’ve spiraled into depression again.

  She thought long and hard about that on the bus ride home. Was Mal even real, or was he something her mind created to help deal with stress? It was a question she’d asked herself constantly for the last six years. He was the only one who was always nice to her, the only person that loved her unconditionally. Except for Mitzy. And Mal had only disappeared after she’d gotten comfortable in her new surroundings, when she felt safe enough to not need him anymore.

  Am I crazy? She wished the bus would hurry up and get her home.

  When they arrived at Chestnut Street, Jacqueline bounded from her seat, elbowing past the spiky-haired kid and leaping out the door. She rushed down the sidewalk as fast as she could, backpack dangling in her hand.

  Their neighbor Mr. Mancuso was standing on a ladder cleaning out his gutters when she passed his house. He saw her and called her name, but she ignored him and ran up her driveway. She fumbled with her keys, the door lock sticking when she tried to turn it. Someone then stepped up behind her, and she whirled around.

  Mr. Mancuso was in his mid-fifties, with a head of salt-and-pepper hair, a strong jaw, and a friendly smile. He pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled in a concerned way.

  “I was calling. Didn’t you hear?” he said.

  “Oh…‌um…‌no, sorry. A little distracted,” she replied.

  Mr. Mancuso laughed. “School can certainly do that to you. It might’ve been a long time ago for me, but it feels like yesterday.”

  Jacqueline glanced over her shoulder and fiddled with the key. The lock clicked, the knob turned. She breathed a sigh of relief and looked up at her neighbor. He was still staring down at her, his head tilted like he was trying to remember something.

  “Did you need me?” she asked.

  Mr. Mancuso blinked, the smile returned to his face. “Oh, yes, yes. Your aunt came over this morning and asked me to watch the house. Just wanted to let you know.”

  “Oh. Okay. Why?”

  “Don’t know. Just said that she’d be late getting home. She left you a note on the kitchen counter.”

  Jacqueline nodded. “Okay. That all?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Cool.” She shoved the door open and stepped backward onto the jamb.

  “If you need anything, just call the house. I’ll be there.”

  “Will do.”

  Mr. Mancuso shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugged, and then glided down the driveway. Jacqueline waited until he was back in his own yard before she closed the door. She liked Mr. Mancuso, since he was always nice to her, but he was a little weird.

  She threw her backpack on the couch and found the note on the dining room table. Sweetie, it read, have a meeting in Bridgeport tonight. Won’t be home until late. There’s leftovers in the fridge—Daal Saag!—and a new batch of cookies in the Tupperware container next to the oven. Hope you have a good night, and please don’t go anywhere. If you call my cell, leave a message. I don’t get good reception at the offices we’re inspecting, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. If it’s an emergency, contact Fran. I asked him to keep an eye on you. Love, Mitzy.

  Jacqueline went into the kitchen and opened the container filled with chocolate chip cookies. She grabbed a few, and a cramp hit. She rubbed her belly as she made her way to the stairs, trying to ignore the pain.

  She was going to be alone for the night. She could talk to Mal without having to hush her voice. Things couldn’t have worked out better.

  Up the stairs she went, holding a stack of five cookies in one hand and her stomach with the other. The compact vibrated in her pocket. She shoved a cookie into her mouth and chewed, and her painful cramp lessened. She glanced at the half-eaten cookie. Better than Midol, she thought with a smile.

  As soon as she got into her room, she pulled the compact from her pocket, opened it, and placed it atop the dresser facing her. She sat down on the bed, putting down the cookies while she took off her boots. Mal gazed lovingly at her. “I missed you,” he said.

  “I just talked to you sixth period. It’s only been an hour,” she answered.

  “An hour’s too long, Jackie.”

  “Really? You should try three weeks.”

  The boy in the mirror frowned at her.

  Jacqueline leaned forward, hands fidgeting, and whispered, “Mal, are you even real?”

  “Of course I’m real,” he said. “And so is my love for you. What kind of question is that?”

  She shrugged. “You won’t let me show you to anyone else. Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy, like my dad. Maybe if I showed someone, maybe if they saw you too…”

  “I understand,” said Mal. “But it’s just not safe for anyone else to know. People fear what they don’t understand. They have since the beginning of time. You might be accused of witchcraft.”

  “This isn’t the seventeen-hundreds,” Jacqueline said, puffing out her lips.

 
“You’d be surprised.”

  “Whatever.” She chewed on her lip, gathered her courage. “So if you’re real, why’d you leave me for three weeks?”

  Mal rubbed his forehead—the second time she’d seen his hands that day—and let out a deep breath. “Do you really want to know?”

  Jacqueline nodded.

  His expression became serious. “I didn’t leave you, Jackie. I was just…‌gone.”

  “Gone?”

  The boy in the mirror looked around like a nervous spy. “There are things out there that want you gone, Jackie. Things that have been searching for you since before you were even born. I think they found me.”

  “What’s that even mean?”

  Mal blew a strand of silver hair from his bruised face. “I knew your mother.”

  Jacqueline gasped. “You did?”

  “Yes,” Mal said, nodding gravely. “I met Dhanya when she first got pregnant. She was an amazing girl, Jackie. Like you.”

  Jacqueline ground her teeth together, hoping Mal would just keep talking, because she didn’t know what to say.

  Continue he did: “I’ve been trapped in this mirror for a long, long time.” His shoulders hunched. “I watched your birth, saw you grow up, witnessed your first steps when you were nine months old. I felt your mother’s last heartbeat after her car crash. I saw your father change from the sensitive and loving man he was into the monster he became.

  “But that’s all I’ve done, just watched. I can’t affect anything in your world, Jackie. I’m trapped.” He sighed. “I was sent to protect you, but all I can do is look.”

  “Sent?” she was able to whisper. “By who?”

  “I don’t know. I forgot when I started loving you.”

  Jacqueline smiled.

  “I’ve fallen in love with you a million times over, Jacqueline Talbot. If anything were to happen to you…”

  He fell silent for a moment, and Jacqueline held her breath.

  “I didn’t abandon you,” Mal said softly. “One minute I was here in this prison, the second I was flying through the cosmos. It was terrifying. I saw things, Jackie, horrible things. Stars being born and dying. The onset of light, the coming of darkness. The end of time itself. I cried out for you always, but I couldn’t find my way back.”