Josie bent down and examined one of the undulators. It was one of the most high-tech, cutting-edge pieces of equipment in the world and yet . . .
Something wasn’t right. This rig wasn’t shiny and new and gleaming with custom-made components. It was old, gritty, and looked as if it had been pieced together with odd parts and discarded materials from earlier prototypes. Josie peered at the accelerator tube, her nose so close her breath made foggy little clouds against its metal surface. She could clearly see the seaming where different pieces of the cylinder had been fused together. An X-FEL of that caliber should have had a custom-designed accelerator of all one piece, and this one looked almost homemade.
Josie snapped upright. Homemade? Had her mom built a duplicate version of a top secret laser in their basement?
“What the hell is going on?”
The words might have come from Josie’s mouth, but they didn’t. She spun around, stumbling over a heavy steel box, and saw her mother standing at the top of the stairs.
“Oh my God,” her mom gasped, taking in the full extent of the damage.
“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks,” Josie said under her breath.
Her mom inched down the stairs, as if testing her weight against each step. Her eyes were wide with shock as she scanned the basement from left to right. “What happened?” she said at last, her voice shaky. “Tell me what happened.”
“There was an explosion.”
Her mom whirled on her. “Did you turn it on?” she said breathlessly. “Did you turn on the laser and cause an explosion? Where is the deuterium?”
“Wait, there was deuterium in the house?”
“Tell me!” her mom snapped.
Josie shook her head. “I was upstairs. There was an explosion. It blew the door open.”
Josie’s mom glanced up at the basement door. “Blew the door open?” she said absently.
“Yeah,” Josie continued, “and I found the lab like this.”
“Found the lab like this . . .” Her mom’s voice trailed off.
“Mom, what’s going on? Why do you have the X-FEL in the basement? And why does it look like you made it yourself?”
Her mom turned back to her and opened her mouth to say something, then clapped it shut. She stared over Josie’s head at something against the far wall of the basement. Josie turned, following her gaze to the mirror propped up in the corner.
“Get it out of here,” her mom said without looking at Josie.
“Huh?”
“The mirror. Get it out of the lab. Now.”
“Why?” Josie stared at her mom. The mirror? Really? There was a bootleg weapons-grade laser in the house and her mom was concerned about the mirror?
“I . . . ,” her mom started, her eyes faltering. “I don’t want it damaged. It was my grandmother’s.”
Josie sighed. Fine, whatever. She crunched her way to the back of the basement, lifted the mirror, then shimmied through the mess and up the stairs.
As she reached the hallway, she looked down at her mom to ask what she was supposed to do with the mirror. But the words froze on her lips. Her mom sat on a stool, head in her hands.
Josie had no idea what was going on, no hint of what her mom was involved in. Locked doors, homemade lasers, explosions, secrets.
Maybe this had all contributed to her parents’ separation? Maybe there was something going on—something major—that had shut her mom off from her family? Josie made a mental note to ask her mom about it. But not now. With her mom still sobbing in the basement, Josie quietly closed the door.
4:20 P.M.
Josie rested the mirror against the wall outside her bedroom and stared at it. So many odd things had happened since she picked up the stupid thing from her dad’s apartment. Could they all be connected or was it just a weird coincidence?
There’s no such thing as coincidence. That was practically a mantra around the Byrne household. So if it wasn’t a coincidence, there was something about the mirror that connected the disparate events of the last twenty-four hours. Something concrete and logical. There had to be.
She’d seen the mirror once before, at her mom’s lab on a “bring your kid to work” day back in elementary school. Her mom said the mirror helped inspire her when she was trying to solve a problem in the lab, though why she decided to bring it home a few months ago, Josie had no idea.
It stood about five feet high, with short legs on either side and a rounded top. Garish and ostentatious, the frame was heavily embellished with opulent wood carvings—jagged leaf flourishes that jutted out onto the surface of the mirror, connected by swirling vines that got denser and more entangled as they extended upward. At the top of the mirror, the heavy carved foliage entwined to form a kind of woodland crown, right in the middle of which was an angelic face. Josie’s arms got goose pimply as the delicate face stared at her with dark, unseeing eyes in the muted light of the hallway.
Part of her wanted to beat the mirror to a pulp: smash the glass, dismember the frame, and stomp up and down on its remnants until there was nothing left but dust and slivers. Instead, she found herself dragging the ugly thing into her room, where she shoved aside a beanbag chair and leaned it against the wall.
If the mirror was somehow connected to the flash of light and the explosion in her basement, she was going to figure it out. Maybe it would fix whatever her mom was dealing with. Then maybe, just maybe, Josie could fix her family too.
NINE
3:59 A.M.
SHE GLANCES UP AT THE SUN AS SHE WALKS ACROSS the track. Almost three full hours before sunset—plenty of time to get home before dark.
A pack of boys in mismatched red-and-white shorts and loose-fitting T-shirts rounds the upper turn. She steps onto the inner field and pauses next to a pile of gym bags.
The boys blow past her at a full sprint. Except one. From the back of the pack, he slows his pace, running straight up and down with a high kick to the knee. Cool and calm, with no display of fatigue or strain, Nick stops inches from her.
“Hey, Jo.”
She smiles. “Nick.”
“What are you doing here?”
She takes a step toward him. “You said you had something for me. Remember?”
“Oh. Right,” he says between deep breaths. “I just didn’t think you’d want it right now.”
“I do,” Jo says. “Is that okay?”
“Of course.”
She follows Nick across the field to a pile of backpacks and jackets. He bends down, unzips the front pouch of his bag, and removes something wrapped in blue tissue paper. “I think this belongs to you.” He puts the packet in her hand.
She trembles as she slowly peels away the layers of tissue. “Oh, Nick!” She gasps.
It’s a necklace on a gold chain. Two entwined hearts.
“Yeah,” he says, a black curl flopping over his eye. “I thought you’d want it.”
She reaches up and brushes the hair from his face, letting her hand linger against his cheek. He doesn’t move. She trails her hand down his chest and she can feel his heart pounding. She doesn’t care that he’s sweaty. She doesn’t care that he smells like the inside of the boys’ locker room. She presses her body into his and tilts her head up toward him. He looks down at her with those piercing brown eyes as she stands on tiptoe, aching for his lips. . . .
Josie let out a moan as her eyes fluttered open. Instead of Nick’s face just inches from her own, all she saw was darkness. The bluish light of the moon streamed in through her window, illuminating a patch of floor and bureau, including a loose photo of her and Nick. It was taken just a few weeks ago.
When Nick was already cheating on her.
The image of Madison kissing Nick on the track flooded Josie’s mind. Between the explosion in her mom’s lab and the mystery of the mirror, Josie had almost managed to forget her most recent humiliation.
Almost.
Ugh. Tomorrow was going to be a disaster at school. The embarrassment of getting caught spyin
g on them was salt in the wound of their betrayal. Everyone at school would be talking about it. How was she going to face the shame?
Josie fought the panic welling up inside her. She just needed to get some sleep. Things would seem better in the morning. She rolled on her side, determined to put all thoughts of Nick and Madison out of her mind, and looked at the clock just before she shut her eyes.
4:00 a.m.
TEN
7:05 A.M.
“JOSEPHINE, ARE YOU GETTING UP TODAY?”
Josie stared at her bedroom ceiling. Getting up for what? What was the point?
So much for feeling better in the morning.
“Did you hear me?” Her mom cracked the bedroom door. There was a pause where her mom must have registered that Josie was still, in fact, in bed, then Josie felt a whoosh of air as her mom threw the door open. “You’re not even awake yet?”
Silence. Was she going to ask what was wrong? Josie wasn’t sure if she was hoping for it or dreading it.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“No,” Josie croaked.
There was the sound of footsteps across the hardwood floor, stopping short of Josie’s bed. “I’m sorry.” Her mom paused. “You should stay home.”
“Okay.” Maybe she could just stay in bed forever and never go back to Bowie Prep? That seemed like the best-case scenario.
“I’ll call and check in on you from the lab. Try to get some rest.”
Yeah. Rest.
3:59 P.M.
She can’t sleep.
She sits up in bed, pushes her sleep mask to her forehead, and squints against the light. She never has insomnia. Always sleeps like the dead. But she’s been tossing and turning for hours. Time to give up.
She throws the blue floral comforter back and swings her legs over the bed. The carpet is soft and lush as she walks across the room to the bookcase. She wiggles her toes in it as she tries to decide on a book.
She chooses a volume of Keats. A gift from her mom. She’s never read it but it seems like it would fit her romantic mood. She reaches for the necklace that hangs just beneath her throat and fingers the delicately woven gold hearts. Nick and Jo. Intertwined forev—
The word forever freezes on her tongue. She stares at the antique mirror in the corner of her room. It perfectly reflects her bed.
But instead of an empty bed and rumpled comforter, sound asleep in her bed is a girl.
She glances back at her bed. It’s empty. But when she returns to the mirror, she can clearly see the image of someone asleep in the bed. Her bed. She takes a step closer to the mirror just as the girl rolls over. She can see the face clearly now. It’s not just a girl.
It’s her. Identical.
But that’s impossible.
She’s across the room in a second, her face inches from the mirror. That room, that girl. They look so real. Like the glass from the mirror has evaporated away to nothing. She reaches out her hand expecting to feel the cold, smooth surface of the mirror, but instead the space feels dense, thick, and spongy like gelatin. Her fingertips permeate the gooey nothingness beyond the frame of the mirror, warping the reflection of the girl asleep.
Is it really a reflection? What’s happening?
The sleeping girl sits up.
Josie’s eyes flew open. She sat straight up in bed and stared at the mirror. For a split second, so fast she wasn’t sure it was real or just a lingering image from her dream, Josie thought she saw someone in the mirror.
A girl. Her.
Before Josie’s brain could even register what she saw, the image was gone and the mirror was just a mirror, reflecting the chaotic mess of Josie’s room.
Josie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to recall what she’d just seen. A girl who looked so much like her, standing in the mirror with her hand outstretched as if she were going to reach through the mirror into Josie’s room.
Just like in her dream. Holy shit. Josie jumped out of bed. Late afternoon light streamed through the slats in her closed blinds. Her heart thundered in her chest and she was breathing heavily. Fear-induced adrenaline raced through her veins, leaving her dizzy and disoriented.
She’d been having another dream. A dream about her, but not her. Just like all her dreams recently.
Except this time when she opened her eyes, she knew she was awake. Wide awake. She knew she saw someone in that mirror. Someone who looked exactly like her. A twin. A doppelgänger.
Josie looked at her alarm and caught her breath.
4:00.
That time was familiar. What time was it when she dreamed that Nick had given her the necklace? She vividly remembered the red digital readout on her alarm clock: four in the morning. Which meant she’d had the dream at exactly 3:59.
She tried to think back to the first dream she’d had, the one where she’d been driving a Beemer and had outrun the train at the crossing. It had been the middle of the night and she didn’t think much about what time she’d woken up, but could it have been the same? Could it have happened at 3:59?
Josie’s heart fluttered in her chest. She was having weird dreams, always at the same time. Was she going crazy? Was it just a coincidence?
There is no such thing as coincidence, she said to herself. There must be a logical explanation. This is a pattern, so it must have a reason.
“Calm down,” she said out loud. “Just calm down and you’ll figure it out.”
The words had the desired effect. Josie’s breathing began to normalize. Her pulse slowed; panic and fear ebbed from her mind.
3:59. One minute to four. What was the connection? She just had to think. What was she usually doing at that time? Homework in the library. Hanging out with Madison. Driving to work . . .
Josie groaned. On Monday, she’d gotten stuck behind that train. At 3:59. It was the exact moment her life started to spin out of control. Her brain must have locked on to that time, like it was the last moment of happiness she was ever going to have.
Josie flopped back down onto her pillow and yanked the comforter up over her head. Even her subconscious was sabotaging her. Still, the fantasies of a Nick who still loved her and who gave a necklace to her instead of to Madison were alluring. Josie snuggled into the covers. Maybe she’d just live in those dreams and forget real life altogether.
It couldn’t be worse.
3:59 A.M.
She can feel the dry grass beneath the blanket, practically each individual strand as the weight of her body presses them flat against the ground. Some are thicker than others. Weeds, most likely. Maybe a dandelion or two. But cushy nonetheless, like a pillow from Mother Nature.
She stretches her arms over her head and arches her back. She loves the warmth of the late afternoon sun, and the tickling breeze from the east. She feels so content, so alive, so blissfully happy.
She hears a crunching of grass, and rolls onto her side, propping her head up with her hand. Silhouetted against the afternoon sun, Nick strides across the field.
“Thanks for coming,” she says.
“Of course,” he says with a tight smile. He sits down on the blanket and eyes the picnic basket and thermos of lemonade. “You didn’t have to do all this, Jo.”
“I know.” She sits up and opens the picnic basket, removing sandwiches and potato salad. “But I wanted to.”
She pours lemonade and hands Nick a glass. He doesn’t drink it.
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
He nods slowly but doesn’t look at her. “How’s your mom?”
“Fine,” she says after a suitable pause.
“Do you . . .” His voice trails off. “Do you ever wonder what happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” It’s true and yet it’s not.
He still doesn’t look at her, but his voice is soft. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
He puts the untouched lemonade down on the blanket, leaning it against the basket. “Look, there’s something I need to say to you.”
She catches her breath. “Yes?”
“Jo.” He pauses and swallows hard. “I—”
Josie never heard what Dream Nick was going to say. She bolted upright in bed, wide-awake, as a blood-chilling scream echoed through her house.
ELEVEN
4:00 A.M.
“NOOOOOOOO!”
Josie’s heart thundered in her chest. “Mom?”
“Get off me!” her mom shrieked from her bedroom.
“Mom, are you okay?”
“Get off!” Her mom’s voice cracked. “I don’t know what you’re talking ab—”
She screamed again, a piercing cry of pain and fear, followed by the sounds of a struggle and something smashing against the floor.
“Mom!” Josie leaped out of bed, and sprinted across her room and down the hall. A high-pitched shriek froze Josie in her tracks. Muffled and distant, it sounded like an animal, definitely not Josie’s mom. The unexplained attacks flashed into her mind. Could the police have been right? Some kind of exotic cat killing people in the night? If so, how the hell did it get into the house? And how was she going to save her mom?
Josie grabbed a vase off the table in the hallway. Maybe she could distract the animal long enough to get her mom out of the house? It was the best plan she could think of as she barreled into her mom’s bedroom and flipped on the light switch.
A single bulb illuminated the room, instead of the usual two; one lampshade had been knocked askew, exposing the bare bulb. The matching lamp, which had stood on the nightstand closest to Josie’s mom, lay broken on the floor. Josie blinked, her eyes adjusting to the bright ball of light before her, and through the fluttering of her eyelids, saw her mom alone in bed. Her eyes were clenched shut, her arms flailing around her as if trying to fend off an unseen assailant.
“I don’t know!” her mom repeated, her voice a mix of panic and pleading. She paused, then spoke again more frantically as if in answer to an unspoken question. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She gasped, her arms frozen above her; then she rolled up into the fetal position, covering her head with her arms. “No! No, please!” she sobbed.
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