by Jill Myles
“What the devil is going on here?”
Cora’s head jerked up, and she stared at the slight figure of Aunt Martha, wearing her sunglasses and rolling a carry-on behind her. She stood in the doorway of the gift shop, staring at Cora with her mouth open.
“Oh, hi,” she said, tugging her robe closed. God, when was the last time she’d worn anything but pajamas? She touched her hair, realizing it was a wavy mess. “This must look odd,” she said, jumping to her feet and staring in dismay at the mess around her. In her frantic need to find out what had happened to Aric, she’d sort-of demolished the gift shop. “I can explain.”
“You’d bloody well better explain,” she said in a sharp voice, striding forward and staring in disgust at the mess Cora had made. “You were supposed to keep the house clean, not trash it while I was gone. It’s a good thing I came back early! I never should have listened to your mother when she said you were just sad. You’re clearly unhinged.”
“That’s not true,” Cora begain.
“Letting you watch the house was a poor judgment on my part, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Today.”
“Oh, but I can’t leave,” Cora said, thinking of the mirror and the fire. She had to try and help Aric.
“I’ll change your tickets. Don’t worry about the money,” Aunt Martha said, waving off her concerns. “I want you packed and out of here by the end of the day. Understand?
And I’ll pay you for the full three weeks, Cora. Just…you need to go home and get some help.” Her aunt’s voice softened with concern. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think you should stay here any longer.”
She couldn’t go home. She needed to see Aric again. Panic fluttered, but she forced herself to smile and nod. “Of course,” she murmured. “I’ll just go upstairs and get my things.”
Aunt Martha followed her as she went up the stairs, clearly not trusting Cora to be left alone in the house.
Cora moved slowly up the stairs, her mind racing, and then down the hall, each step precise.
Martha followed close behind her. When she got to the door, her cellphone rang. She paused on the steps to answer it. “What do you mean, you can’t find my suitcase? I filed a claim.” She cast an irritated look at Cora and waved her forward, then put a finger to her ear and turned her back, talking into her phone. “No, it’s a blue suitcase. Blue.” A reprieve. Cora went inside her room and hesitated. Her aunt was still in the hallway, her back to Cora. She looked over at the mirror with longing…and an idea occurred to her.
She shut the bedroom door and locked it.
“Hey,” she heard Aunt Martha protest, her voice muffled through the door. “What are you doing?”
She shoved the chair under the doorknob seconds before he jiggled it. “I’m sorry, Aunt, but I can’t leave. Not now.”
Her aunt gave an outraged shout on the other side of the door. “You’re crazy! Let me in!” She jiggled the door again, and again, and when jiggling didn’t work, she began to pound on it. “Let me in, Cora. If you don’t, I’m going to tell your mother on you!” Like her mother could do anything to her. She was twenty-seven, for crying out loud.
Cora retreated from the door and went to the mirror. Oh please, please let him be there.
But there was no mirrorlight, and it looked like a normal mirror to her. She moved to it, laying her hand on the glass. “Please, Aric, if you can hear me, please…” Please what? Please appear and give her hand a squeeze before she left? She couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t tell him how she was feeling, how he made her feel alive even if he was just a ghost in a mirror.
But she still wanted to see him one last time, to know he was all right, to see that Muffin’s story about the fire was just that—a story. Her palm smacked against the glass and when it continued to remain as it was, she rested her forehead on it in frustration.
Please, please, Aric. Please show me that you’re all right. I need to know that you’re all right before I leave you forever. She closed her eyes and concentrated hard—so hard that her head began to throb, but she kept picturing him in the mirror, thinking of the way he’d touched her last night.
Martha continued to pound on the door, furious. “I’m getting a fucking screwdriver and I’m going to take this door off the frame, Cora. So help me god, if you don’t get out of there in the next instant!”
She ignored her, thinking only of Aric. Please, Aric. Please. I need you.
The scent of smoke touched her nostrils. Cora jerked backward, alarmed, blinking her eyes. Was she imagining things? But a quick glance at the mirror showed that plumes of smoke were trickling out of it, the mirrorlight so pale and thin that she almost imagined it as a trick of the imagination.
Then, it flashed and she saw Aric.
He was dying. Crouched before the mirror, his palm pressed against the glass on the other side, he waited there. The room he stood in was full of smoke and darkness.
She was too late.
“He went in for some reason,” Muffin had said. “But everyone else was out of the castle, so… if he didn’t go back in after someone, what was so important that he died for it? ”
Horror made her throat knot. He’d come back in to see her one last time. To spend his last moments holding her hand.
“No,” she cried, even as she reached through the mirror to grab him. It wouldn’t let her through. She slammed a fist against the glass, anger surging through her. “Let me touch him! Let me through! Let me through!”
With each word, she pounded again. On the very last word…her fist went through the glass and she flinched, expecting to hear the mirror shatter. But there was no sound, only the heavy smoke scent filling the room.
“Aric,” she called, grasping his hand and shaking him, trying to get him to respond.
“Aric, please!”
He lay motionless against the mirror.
In the background, she saw flames roll up the wall across from him, and the smoke billowed. A sob rose in her throat. She had to save him. She must. Experimentally, she pushed her arm through the glass, and then the other arm, feeling the heat against her skin even through the mirror. The castle on the other side was an inferno.
She wrapped her arms around him, frantic to pull him through. His weight was heavy against her grip, and she staggered. She gave him a tug, but he didn’t budge, his body sliding against the glass on his side.
Martha pounded on the door again. “Cora! You let me in right now! This instant! I’m taking this door down right now!”
Cora pulled at Aric, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Please, Aric. Please. Wake up and help me.” His weight was heavy—too heavy. The flames crawled closer, and the smoke filled her own room. She coughed, tugging at Aric. She couldn’t breathe through the smoke, but if she left the room, Aunt Martha would never let her back.
If she left the room, Aric would die. She tugged at him again, trying to pull him through the mirror. Nothing. He was firmly anchored on the other side.
The door behind her grew quiet, and then she heard the sound of a power screwdriver, buzzing and angry. “I’m taking the door off the bloody hinges, Cora! And once I do, I’m throwing you out on your ass! You just wait until I talk to your mother, young lady!” The smoke continued to pour in. The door pounded and shook behind her. She coughed and tugged at him, but it was no use. It wouldn’t let him through—wouldn’t let him enter her world. As always, they would be forever separated by the mirrorlight.
That goddamned mirrorlight.
Anger burned through her, and she wrapped her arms around his torso. “I am not going to let you take him from me,” she told the mirror, punctuating each word with a tug at his body. “He belongs with me.”
The screwdriver buzzed again, and the door shook, hard.
“He…belongs…with…me!” She cried, and gave a tug with all her might, bracing her feet against the mirror. “I finally found something I want to fight for. I want him. You don’t get to keep him!”
She felt
the mirror fighting her, felt the mirrorlight wash over her and for a moment, felt the intense heat of the fire on her face.
And she pulled. And pulled.
“Aric,” she panted, wrapping her arms tight around his torso one last time. “I will fight heaven and earth to bring you to me. They’re not taking you from me. Not now. Not ever.”
And she gave one last, final tug, putting everything she had—everything she had ever wanted—into this final pull.
Aric fell through the mirror.
They flew backward, tumbling into the small bedroom. Aric fell on top of her, his heavy form limp. Cora shuddered, watching as the mirrorlight receded and the mirror went back to normal in the blink of an eye. The smoke vanished. Her hands clenched around Aric’s shoulders.
He didn’t vanish.
After a moment, he coughed and stirred, and she cried out with joy, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him close.
He would live. He would live and she was here with him, touching him. Feeling his hot skin pressed against her own. She’d found something she wanted enough to fight for, and she’d won him.
A shadow loomed over her, and she saw Aunt Martha looming over her, blocking out the light.
“So,” she said in an arch voice. “That’s what this is all about. You’re hiding a man in here.”
Laughter bubbled up in Cora’s throat, and she just hugged Aric closer.
#
Thirty minutes later, she was standing outside of Stonewood Abbey, her suitcase brimming with her hastily-packed clothes. Aric stood next to her, staring at his surroundings like he’d just been dropped into another world. Which, she supposed, he had.
Now that they were both on this side of the mirror, she felt a little awkward. Just because they’d had sex through a mirror—through a mirror!—didn’t mean that he would feel obligated in any way to her. She’d saved his life, but that was a poor reason to start a relationship. And would he even know what to do with himself in the twenty-first century? What if the shock was too much for him? Worry gnawed at her.
Even worse, what would they do now that they’d been banned from the Abbey? Aunt Martha was so furious she wasn’t even speaking to Cora anymore. She’d tossed her suitcase out on the lawn without even a goodbye.
“Yoohoo,” called a voice. “Over here.”
Cora turned, and saw Muffin heading toward them, waving a lacy white handkerchief. She wore a gold-sequin spangled sweater that dripped with fringe. It was belted atop a pair of jeggings and a hot pink pair of cowboy boots.
“There you two are,” Muffin called. “About time, too. I was starting to get worried.” Aric turned and gave Cora a confused look, then turned back to the elderly woman.
“Marguerite?”
Muffin simpered and waved her lacy handkerchief at him. “Oh you silly boy. They call me Muffin here.”
He looked over at Cora and gestured at Muffin, reciting a litany of gibberish syllables that she didn’t understand.
Cora shook her head at him. “I don’t speak…Welsh. If that’s Welsh, that is.” Maybe it was Old English. She had no idea. Defeat began to settle over her. Even without the mirror separating them, she couldn’t talk to Aric?
“Not a problem,” Muffin said, and pulled out the long pale stick of wood. The ribbon on the end danced as she touched it to his hand, and then wiggled it in the air. It…looked like a wand. Muffin waved it again, and then touched the tip to her nose and smiled. “Try now, my dear.”
“I said, what do you do here in this strange place, Marguerite?” Aric spoke, his words lilting with a sexy accent. He looked surprised at his words, and then looked over at Cora.
“I am speaking your language?”
“Just a bit of magic fixed that right up,” Muffin crowed. “And call me Muffin, dearie.
Everyone in this time does.” She leaned over as if he were deaf and cupped a hand to her mouth, yelling. “M U F F I N.”
“Very well.” Aric smiled at her and then turned to her, his smile growing even broader. “And what do I call you here?”
“You can just call me Cora,” she said softly, feeling suddenly shy. At his nod, something else registered and she turned back to Muffin. “Did you say…magic? Is that a magic wand?”
Muffin gave me an indignant look. “Of course it’s magic. What else do you expect from your fairy godmother and a magic mirror?”
Cora felt weak at that, setting down her suitcase on the driveway. “I’m sorry, did you say fairy godmother?”
“Yes I did. You’re both assigned to me. I’ve been trying to pair that one up,” she waved a hand at Aric. “For centuries. Oh, and speaking of, this is for you.” She held out a wallet to him.
He took the small brown leather square in his hand and stared at it.
“Open it,” she said in an impatient voice. “We haven’t got all night, my dear.” Cora moved to his side and showed him how to flip it open. Inside was a driver’s license—Alaska—with Aric’s full name on it, his age, and his address. Also inside were credit cards, a social security card, and some other paperwork. “How did you…”
“Magic,” Muffin said again, her tone annoyed. “The passport’s over at my house.
You can stay the night before heading back home tomorrow.” She pointed a finger at Cora. “And no making out against my mirrors, you dirty birds. Keep it clean.” Cora’s face flushed bright red. “But…what…does…” she turned to Aric. “Do you want to go with me?”
He moved to her side and touched her cheek, grazing his thumb across the soft skin as he stared into her eyes. Gone was the sad look on his face. A hint of a smile touched his mouth again. “More than anything.”
She returned his smile. “I want that too.”
“I hear there’s a nice company hiring up in Alaska,” Muffin said pointedly.
Cora grinned. “Got it. I’ll check it out.”
Muffin reached between them and took Cora’s suitcase, hiking down the road with it.
“Follow me, you two. The cottage is this way.”
She glanced over at Aric, and he turned to her, his hands moving to her waist. He pulled her against him and Cora’s hand went to his chest. He felt big and real and so wonderful against her. Her fingers brushed over his heart and sure enough, his pulse was steady and warm. “This is real, isn’t it?”
He leaned in toward her. “I think it is. If it is real and not a dream, what do we do now?”
She looked up at him, a smile curving her mouth. “Well, I guess we could start with happily ever after.”
And she finally, finally got to kiss him.
The End
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six