by Ann Charles
“No more games,” he said in his thick Slavic accent.
“Damned straight!” I grabbed the fork.
He raised that blasted ax again.
I gripped the fork and lunged at him, slamming the sharp fork tines into his thigh with a war cry that would have made Red Cloud proud.
The ax swooped sideways, missing his mark—me. His bulbous eyes widened, his expression looking surprised as he looked down at where I’d jammed the fork into his leg.
I glanced down, too, frowning at the line of black smoke rising from his thigh.
He roared in pain, sending me crab-crawling backward through the potatoes and splintered wood.
As I pushed to my feet, he reached down and jerked the fork out of his leg, pressing his hand over the smoking wound.
“What have you done?” His snake eyes measured me from head to foot. “What are you?”
I didn’t have time to stand around and explain the birds and bees to him. I glanced toward the window next to the dead greaser, doing a doubletake on the wall above him. Three more letters had been scrawled in what I realized was blood, spelling M I R R O R.
Mirror? What did that mean? Who was writing it?
A growl-filled groan from my nemesis made me whirl.
The smoke had stopped, but he was still clutching his thigh. His lip curled as he stared at me. “Who sent you?”
I thought of Cornelius and Doc, of the séance, but said nothing to him and backed toward the bedroom door, which was wide open, beckoning.
The albino grabbed the ax handle, using it as a crutch to limp toward me. “Who are you, wench?” he took another hobbled step, his face tight with pain or fury or both. I wasn’t going to ask for clarification.
“Your nightmare,” I told the albino and dashed toward the bedroom door, slamming the thick oak door behind me. A skeleton key was in the lock. I turned it and twisted the knob, making sure it was locked.
Stepping away from the door, I listened for the sound of his footsteps. My breath raced in and out, my heart thumping hard and fast.
The knob twisted on its own.
Crikey, that juggernaut was a persistent son of a bitch.
I needed a weapon. If the fork hurt him, maybe I could stab him with a piece of broken glass.
Turning toward the dresser mirror, I squeaked in surprise at the sight of Freesia standing there in the reflection. The video camera blinked red behind her. She summoned me with her hand, hurrying me.
The mirror.
The message scrawled in blood on the wall.
Oh, yeah, the mirror. But how did I …
A boom hit the other side of the bedroom door, rattling it in its doorframe.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. I raced around the bed, skidding to a halt in front of the mirror.
How was I going to …
BOOM! The door shook again.
“Go away!” I yelled. “I’m a little busy in here right now.”
Damn it, if that freaky-eyed asshole would just give me a moment to think.
I frowned into the mirror, trying to concentrate on Freesia’s face, her brown eyes, her arm and hand.
A splintered crashing sound resounded behind me. His ax had punctured the wood, I knew it. I dared not look around and let the terror I could feel welling inside of me take over and render me helpless.
Freesia’s hand.
I closed my eyes and thought of the demon’s tongue I’d grabbed onto in the darkness of my mind at Wild Bill’s gravesite. I remembered Cornelius’s meditation teachings, the candle flame on which he’d told me to concentrate. I let my mind reach into the shadows.
Freesia’s hand.
A crash sounded behind me, muted as my mind turned inward. I imagined a wall of bulletproof glass behind me, blocking the juggernaut, and focused on that flame, on reaching further into the darkness and beyond.
Freesia’s hand.
I grabbed her palm, clutching it tight. She pulled hard, dragging me all of the way into the blackness. I could feel myself falling, falling, falling.
And then I landed on something hard.
Pain shot out from my elbow, making my fingers tingle. I groaned and rolled off of my arm.
Then I remembered my attacker and sat up, my gaze darting all around the bedroom, searching for him and his sinister ax. Freesia lay on the floor next to me, her eyes wide, her mouth slack-jawed. I could hear her panting.
“Holy shit,” she said. She looked across at Cornelius, who was squinting into Ms. Wolff’s bedroom mirror. “Did you see that? Hot damn! That was way more intense than the Ouija board games we played in college.”
“Shhhh,” Cornelius said, leaning his ear close to the mirror. His wool coat almost brushing Layne’s picture.
“Where’s Doc?” I asked. “Why are we in the bedroom?”
“We moved in here to help you get back out,” Freesia whispered.
“He’s still in there,” Cornelius said, leaning his head on the mirror. He began his rhythmic hum.
“Who’s in there?” The killer?
Clutching my throbbing elbow, I spun on my hip. They must have moved Cornelius’s square into the bedroom while I was out of it. Ms. Wolff’s twin bed had been pushed back, making more room between it and the dresser. Doc lay flat on his back in the opposite corner, near the end of the bed. His eyes were closed but movement fluttered underneath them, like butterflies under a sheet.
Oh, no. I crawled over to him, feeling his cheek, his neck, his hand. His skin felt cold and clammy.
Still humming, Cornelius knocked on the mirror.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I frowned over at Freesia. “How long has Doc been out?”
Cornelius lifted his head from the mirror, catching his breath and humming some more. Then he knocked three times on the mirror again.
“I don’t know,” Freesia said, joining me at Doc’s side. “We moved into the bedroom when we realized you had left the square and sleepwalked in here. We found you standing in front of the dresser mirror.”
The humming stopped.
“How long ago was that?” I pressed.
Cornelius turned toward me, his face paler than normal, his cornflower blue eyes filled with a mixture of apprehension and sadness. “Violet,” he started, his frown scaring me, “I fear we’ve lost—”
Something pounded on the mirror, making it vibrate. Layne’s picture slipped out of the edge and floated onto the dresser top.
Freesia yelped in surprise.
I met Cornelius’s wide gaze. “Who was that?”
“He’s stuck inside,” he answered.
“What do you mean stuck?”
“Your friend went back in to show you the way out. When you came through, you blocked the way back.”
“I did what?”
“Closed the portal, if you will. Would you like me to explain the physics of it?”
“Not at this very moment. What do you mean by stuck?”
“I mean he cannot return.”
“Can’t you open the mirror again?” Freesia asked.
Cornelius shook his head. “That is too dangerous for Violet. She’s inexperienced in the ways of psychic travel.”
“No.” I looked down at Doc’s fluttering lids, felt his pulse strong under my finger. “He’s not stuck in there.”
“I told him there was great risk involved in going back,” Cornelius said, pulling on his goatee. “But he insisted.”
It must have been Doc who wrote the “mirror” message for me on the wall somehow.
Another bang vibrated the mirror.
“How long has Doc been out?” I asked Freesia again.
Her eyes grew watery. “I don’t … I don’t know. Maybe ten minutes.”
“There’s still time,” I said, straddling Doc’s waist. How was I going to get him out?
“Time for what?” Freesia asked.
“Cornelius,” I called, adjusting Doc’s arms so that I wasn’t kneeling on them. “Do your hummin
g trick.”
Cornelius cleared his throat, lowering onto the edge of the bed, and started making the rhythmic noises in his throat. His eyes closed, he tipped his chin up. The humming grew louder. I had no idea if that would make a difference or not, but short of calling in the cavalry, I was taking all of the help I could get.
I trailed my fingers down Doc’s chest, swallowing the panic that was threatening to shove screaming up and out from my chest. I could get him back. I’d done it before. I just needed to figure out how.
“Doc,” I said in a commanding voice, “wake up.”
That didn’t work. His eyes continued to move behind his lids, but his body lay still underneath me.
I shook his shoulders. “Doc, wake up. Come back to me.”
Still nothing changed.
“What if you kissed him?” Freesia asked.
“That won’t work.” I had no delusions about my powers as Princess Charming. I’d tried kissing him awake before in Prudence’s attic and it hadn’t done a thing. I leaned over his face, running my hands down his cheeks. “Doc, come on, you have to wake up. I need you here.”
Nothing, damn it.
I turned his head to the side.
“What are you doing?” Freesia asked.
“I have an idea.” I place my lips close to his ear. “Dane Nyce, you get your ass back to me right now. I’m going to start counting. You have until I reach ten.”
I glanced over at Freesia. She was chewing on her knuckles, her eyes rimmed with worry lines. Cornelius continued to hum from the bed in a fully focused rhythm.
“One,” I said in Doc’s ear. “Two. Three.”
Something hit the mirror again. Freesia screeched and watched the glass as if waiting for someone to fall through it.
“Four. Five.”
Doc’s right arm twitched, but his eyes remained closed, the rest of his body motionless.
“Six. Seven.”
The whole dresser vibrated from a blow to the mirror, the drawer handles rattling against the wood. I wasn’t sure who or what was behind it—Doc or the juggernaut or something else.
“Eight.”
Come on, Doc. I need you to wake up.
“Nine.”
I checked the mirror, pausing to see if it was bowing or splintering or rippling. Nope, none of the above.
“Ten.”
Everything went quiet around me, including Cornelius. I stared down at Doc, willing him to open his brown eyes and look up at me.
But he didn’t.
“What are you going to do?” Freesia whispered.
An idea hit me. “Bite him.”
“That’s unorthodox.” Cornelius said. “Yet brilliant.”
I bit into the soft, fleshy part of his earlobe.
Doc groaned.
I held the bite and tugged on his lobe. “Open your eyes, Doc,” I spoke through clenched teeth.
His eyes flashed open as if by the touch of a magic wand. “Oww!” He jerked free of my bite.
I sat up and smiled down at him, relief coursing through me, making my eyes a little misty.
His face scrunching in pain, his dark eyes focused on me. “What did you do to me?”
“I brought you back.” I bared my choppers. “By the skin of my teeth.”
Cornelius stepped around us, heading toward the video camera. “She used pain to withdraw you from a potentially damaging situation.”
“She bit your earlobe,” Freesia told him, squeezing my shoulder. “That was amazing, Violet. I’m not going to be able to sleep for days.”
Doc reached up and tenderly touched his ear. “It stings like a son of a bitch. Were you trying to bite it clear off?”
“No. Sheesh, I didn’t even draw blood this time.”
He grunted his unhappiness at me and shifted under my weight, reminding me that I was still sitting on him.
I crawled off, kneeled next to him, taking his hand in mine. His skin was warmer again, the color coming back to his face … and his ear, which was fire engine red.
I grimaced. “You shouldn’t have gone in after me.” I kissed the back of his hand and then pulled him upright. “It was too risky.”
“I couldn’t leave you alone with him.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, holding tight to my palm with the other.
“Alone with who?” Cornelius asked, folding his tripod.
I hesitated, looking at Doc. Should I tell Cornelius about the albino? That might open up a slew of other questions I wasn’t sure I was ready to answer yet.
“The dead guy,” I said at the same time Doc spoke up with, “The ghost.”
“Was that you trying to come through the mirror?” Freesia asked Doc.
His forehead wrinkled. “What do you mean?”
“After Violet woke up from her trance, or whatever it was,” Freesia explained, “the mirror kept shuddering, like someone was pounding on it from the other side.”
“That wasn’t me.” Doc’s troubled gaze held mine.
Cornelius offered his hand to Doc. “I have a hypothesis about the mirror,” he said as he pulled Doc to his feet. “I saw something similar in an old haunted hospital in Oklahoma.”
I had my own hypothesis that included a white haired juggernaut with a big, sharp ax.
Freesia practically bounced with excitement. “What is it?”
“I need to analyze the video before I make any statements.”
To whom? The press? I stood, brushing off my jeans, looking in the mirror. Could the albino see us from the other side right now?
Doc’s reflection watched me, his forehead still covered in frown lines. “What’s that on your hoody?”
I looked down over the material. “What?”
He touched a dark spot on the material above my left breast, then looked at his finger. “You’re bleeding.”
“I am?” I pulled aside my hoody, a sense of déjà vu rolling over me. My T-shirt had a red spot, too. Doc pulled my neckline askew. A cut in my skin was smeared with blood. My blood. “How did I …”
The terror rushed back in, flash-flooding through me, overflowing my body with adrenaline.
“Doc,” I gasped, clutching his shoulder when my knees threatened to give. “How did—”
Doc’s finger on my lips shushed me. “You must have scratched yourself. We need to get you home. Tonight’s been hard on you.”
“But what if—”
“Freesia,” Doc said, leading me toward the bedroom door. “Can you stay and help Cornelius clean up? I need to get Violet home. This much stimuli at once can be dangerous.”
That was a bunch of horse hockey. I felt wound up enough to run a marathon right then.
“Of course.” She shot Cornelius a secret smile that flew over his clueless head. “I’ll make sure he’s all taken care of.”
And then some. I wondered how blatant she’d have to be for him to realize she liked him. An ad on the Goodyear Blimp might do it. Or a billboard on Interstate 90.
“Cornelius,” I said, “I’ll call you.”
“No, I’ll call you. I have a lot of data to analyze from tonight. I’ll probably be awake until seven-twelve in the morning, or maybe even seven-thirty-six.”
“Make sure you’re asleep by eight-o-two,” I jested.
“Of course I will.” He did not jest back. “It’s irresponsible to stay up that late.”
Doc shot me a raised brow. I shook my head and pointed toward the door.
“Don’t bother getting a cab,” I heard Freesia say to him as Doc led me out of the bedroom. “I’ll take you back to your room … I mean your hotel.”
I admired Freesia’s boldness. I might need to take a chapter from her book.
“Do you want me to go get the car and bring it around?” Doc asked as we stepped out onto the dark porch, quietly closing the door behind us.
“No, I’m good. What about you?”
“I’m worried about you.”
“It’s only a couple of blocks.”
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“You know what I mean. What happened in there was unprecedented.” He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me against his side as we walked.
“I’m not even going to pretend that I understand anything that went on.” I burrowed into him as I glanced around into the shadowed trees, afraid I’d see the albino stalking out of the darkness towards us.
“He’s gone, Violet. You destroyed him somehow at Mudder Brothers, remember?”
“Then what was that swinging an ax at me in there? A nightmare? How were you able to get into my head? Or was I in yours? Why was the mirror showing me different realities? How did I end up with this cut?” Which was now throbbing since I’d given it a little attention.
He kissed my temple. “We’ll work through this together. But first let’s go home.”
I shivered in the brisk October air. “Mine or yours?”
“Mine.”
After we climbed into the car, I dug out my cell phone. A text message from Aunt Zoe made my heart race for a more down-to-earth reason. “Oh, crap.”
“What is it?” Doc started the engine.
“Addy has an earache.” I should have known that cold wouldn’t go away easily. Fall and spring’s abrupt weather changes always found her body’s weak spots. “I need to go home. She doesn’t handle pain well.”
“Okay, your house it is.”
“To drop me off?” I didn’t want him to leave me, afraid of the dark thoughts and fears that were sure to hit in the middle of the night. Or worse.
“Do you want me to drop you off?”
I was too emotionally spent to play games. “I want you to stay the night with me because I’m scared shitless of where I’ll wake up if I fall asleep. But I can’t ask that of you.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s not going to be any hanky panky going on tonight, especially with Addy’s earache. I just want you in the same house as me to make me feel safe.”
“Then that’s where I’ll be.” He turned up his street. “Let me grab a change of clothes and we’ll be on our way.”