by Cate Corvin
I threw away the trash and got back in the van. “Let’s just get this done. It’ll be just like ripping off a band-aid.”
The sun was bright over Bellhallow when we returned. It almost looked like home again… if I ignored the wasted gardens and the dark shadows beneath the trees, the open-eyed and empty windows.
I apologized silently to the gate as I walked back through, for leaving in such a hurry when it had been trying to help. I didn’t want to make a habit of running out of here in a panic.
It was much harder to actually do the thing than talking about it. I stood at the foot of the stairs in the foyer, staring up into the clouded darkness above me. There was a red door waiting for me, up there in the silence.
Joss kept his arm around my shoulders, warming my cold skin. My servitor stood at my other side, brushing my hand with a gentle touch. Adrian watched from the bottom of the stairs, a silent statue with his tail curled around his paws. He seemed to be measuring and judging every action I made.
“I’ll go first,” Eric said quietly. “Keep an eye on her, Thorne.” He strode up the stairs, brushing aside a sheet of cobweb, and I followed, forcing myself to take the first step up the stairs.
“No. I have to do this too,” I said. “I’ll have to face it someday, and it might as well be now.”
I reached for Joss’s hand and gripped his warm fingers with my own cold ones.
I had run up these stairs the last time I had traversed them. We stood on the landing for a moment, looking out at the foyer and crooked chandelier in silence, before continuing through the dark hall leading into the depths of Bellhallow.
I tried to stop myself from shivering as we moved forward. My hand had to have been squeezing Joss painfully, but he didn’t complain, conjuring a tiny, licking flame on his palm that lit the hallway with a warmer light. I almost bumped into Eric as well, practically walking on his heels, but he didn’t chastise me. The manor felt like it was pressing in on us, leaning over and in to watch my every move.
The red door loomed ahead, shining and miraculously free of dust. The rest of the hall was carpeted with it.
Eric paused in front of it, his expression indecipherable, but he gripped the bronze handle firmly and pulled it open. How many times had he performed that same gesture?
I cringed as it swung open, almost expecting to see my parent’s bodies waiting for me, just as I had before. But naturally, the room was empty. They had been returned to ashes and dust long ago.
“You might want to stay out here,” I said to Joss. “I never cleaned up after they died. There might still be intruder-charms left.”
His brow knit, but he touched my cold cheek, running his thumb over my cheekbone. “If you insist, Mor,” he said, his intense gaze falling on Eric.
I glanced back at my servitor as well. He avoided looking in the gigantic mirror. “He’s had my back this far, Joss. That won’t change now.”
Joss nodded, shoving a hand through his hair, and let me go in alone.
Part of me wished I could have let him in with me, but as much as I liked Joss, I couldn’t rely on him as a crutch. It was my job to figure this out- and I didn’t want him to feel the energy in that room. It would have been trapped in here, stagnating and decaying, but as powerful as ever. I knew, because I felt it like a sickening punch to the gut as soon as I walked in.
The study had also fallen to decay, though not as badly as the rest of the manor. The horrific energy of their deaths must have been feeding this small portion of the manor since I’d left. It would need a thorough cleansing before I’d ever be able to restore this part of it again.
A light layer of dust lay over the desk, the books dingy, the gilt flaking from the enormous mirror, but no other damage or decay was present. It was almost exactly as it was the night I had left it.
There was even a broad splotch in the dust at the foot of the mirror where my mother had lain. The decay hadn’t touched that portion. As for my father…
I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms. We would search the books and leave. No memories. I couldn’t allow it to pull me under again.
“Where is it?” I whispered. Bellhallow’s walls groaned as the wards tried to tell me something, but in here, where the wards had been broken and scarred by trauma, it was harder to understand what it was saying. It was like bad cell phone reception, the manor’s ability to reach and protect me dulled in this room.
I moved along the walls, steadfastly refusing to look in the mirror. My father had kept the darker books in here, the ones with secrets unsuitable for a young girl, or any uninvited guests, to read. It had been ensorcelled when I was young, the books zapping my fingers with painful electric shocks if I ever tried to reach for one.
Eric had moved to the far wall, scanning the shelves, and I heard his footsteps stop. “John?” he whispered. A cold chill raced down my back as I turned to look at him.
The groan of wood around us grew to a squeal, the shelves rattling, and a book shivered and fell forward as though pushed by an invisible hand. It thumped in the dust in front of him and Bellhallow suddenly fell into an unnerving silence.
“What was that?” Joss called, his voice sharp. The light in the hallway was brighter, his flames climbing.
Eric and I stared at each other in the dim light, eyes wide. I couldn’t bring myself to face the mirror lest I see something that might send me screaming back down the mountain.
Eric knelt and grabbed the book and we almost sprinted out of the study together, slamming the red door behind us. Joss gripped my arm, turning his fiery gaze on Eric. “What happened, Shields?”
“Just get her downstairs,” my servitor told him, and Joss wrapped an arm around my shoulders, leading me down into the sunlit corridor of the guest wing.
Eric’s normally-tan skin was pale. “I felt him,” he said. “It felt like he was standing right next to me. Just like old times.”
Goosebumps had risen all over me. “But my father’s spirit would have passed on by now.” I was sure that he of all people wouldn’t have wanted to linger after death, no matter how terrible it might have been. “I didn’t see him… his spirit… that night. He wasn’t present.”
Eric looked at the book he held, bound in leather as black as pitch. The title was embossed in flaking gold: A Treatise on the House of Mirrors and Its Denizens. The darkness of it seemed to suck up the sunlight like a black hole, making everything around it dimmer. “Maybe some knowledge was worth sticking around for,” he said grimly.
“‘The House of Mirrors’,” I repeated, looking down at the book in his hands. “I’ve never heard of such a place.”
Joss gripped my hands, his palms heating to warm my ice-cold fingers. Adrian had vanished like a ghost. “Come on, Mor.” He waved to Eric, leading me to our makeshift bedrooms. “Do what you need to do, Eric. I’ve got her.”
My servitor was still looking at the book, but he spared us a dark glance. “Don’t let her dwell. You know how she is.”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” I muttered, but I didn’t want to remain here to dwell on the idea of my father’s spirit trapped in that lonely limbo, constantly reliving his last moments of hell just so I could have this book.
Did I truly want to leave? In that moment, yes. The ghosts of the past hung over me. But the rest of Bellhallow had welcomed me back, purring under my touch…
I could always come back later. Now, I had the answer as to why the deadside had become so hostile towards me, and I needed to solve it or I’d never be able to mirrorwalk again.
13
“Come on, Morena, you know I’m not trying to patronize you.” Joss pushed me into my room. “But let’s be real, you’re the Queen of Dwelling on Bad Shit, and this is not a good place for that.”
I laid a hand on the wall, taking in the cheerful cleanliness, and promised Bellhallow I would return and finish what I’d started. The wards warmed around me, taking my promise to heart.
Joss felt
them as well. “It’s happy you’re home, Mor.” He leaned on the wall, his hands shoved in his pockets and eyes warm as he looked me over. “You know I don’t mean to push at you, but maybe you should consider leaving the human world behind and starting over here. You’d be safer behind the wards, Eric would feel better...”
“I know. I feel all torn up inside about it.” I let my hand drop from the wall. “But if Dad’s spirit is lingering here, how could I really be happy?”
“Look at the good things. We grew up here. Your dad loved the shit out of you, thought you were the best thing since sliced bread, and Bellhallow still feels that love for you… and honestly, it’s weird and unnatural for a witch to be alone.”
“Wow, a Thorne calling me weird?” Okay, maybe I was just a little weird.
Either way, Joss’s light-hearted jokes were settling my pounding heart and nerves. As long as I wasn’t near the study, it felt damn good to be home.
Joss took his hands from his pockets, moving closer. I was rooted in place as he ran his hands over my shoulders, pushing my black curls away from my face. “Maybe not that weird,” he amended. “Stubborn, hot-headed, and a tiny bit masochistic, definitely.”
At least two of those qualities I would agree with. “Masochistic?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. Joss’s hands were incredibly distracting, burying themselves in my hair. I wrapped my hands around his neck, my body seeming to lean into him of its own accord.
“You’re living in a junker van and decrepit apartment when you have all this, and if that’s not masochistic, I don’t know what is. You’re welcome in Rosethorne whenever you want.”
“Melinda is in Rosethorne,” I reminded him. He had to be aware of my relationship with his mother… or lack thereof. “If I had to choose which was worse, her or humans… I’m not sure I could decide.”
“Then I’ll try my best to stay between the two of you,” he said, his eyes crinkling in a smile. “I just want to see you back where you belong.”
His hands ran down my spine, sending shivers through me. The psychic sensation of thorns running over me, just barely pricking my skin, covered my entire body.
It wasn’t an unenjoyable sensation.
“If I belong anywhere, it’s here, Thorne,” I said, murmuring against his jaw as I rose on my tiptoes. His smile had faded, his deep blue eyes fixed on my own. “The problem is getting used to it after so long away.”
“You could decide you belong on top of a snow-covered mountain and I’d be fine with that, Mor. I don’t give a fuck where, as long as you’re where I can find you.” His lips found my neck, washing most conscious thought out of my head like the tide had swept it away. But one part stood out to me, pulling me back to the present
“You and Adrian.” I touched the knotted scar on his wrist. “Where’d he go?”
Joss shrugged, tilting his head to nip at my earlobe. A shiver ran over my shoulders and down my spine as his tongue traced a line down my neck. “Who knows? Don’t worry about Adrian, Eric, anything right now. I finally have you to myself again, with no interruptions.”
A sigh slipped past my defenses as Joss kissed me, his velvet tongue sliding over my lower lip and biting me gently. The sensation of thorns remained and I sucked my lip into my mouth when he drew away, tasting smoke and fire.
My heart pounded under my ribs like a drum. He was my best friend. How many times had we slept in the same bed like it was the most natural thing in the world? I’d never thought anything of it.
Now, as he pushed me back against the bed and glided his fingers along my face as he settled over me, I felt like I’d been blind to the obvious for a very, very long time.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” His whisper was so quiet it was almost lost, his lips brushing my neck.
It felt completely right to rake my nails through his hair, trailing over his neck and shoulders. Touching Joss in a way that wasn’t platonic was like having fireworks go off in my chest and stomach, a whole new unexplored world.
I turned my head to catch his lips, my breath caught in my throat. Joss let out a rough sound of desire, kissing me back so hard my lips felt like they’d bruise. He slid his fingers through my hair, holding me close to him, and I gripped the front of his shirt so he couldn’t pull away.
He wouldn’t, though. Not when he was kissing me like he’d been dreaming about this moment for years.
I unbuttoned his shirt, my hands trembling the tiniest bit from a heady combination of nerves and lust. This wasn’t the awkward-teenage-Joss I’d known before. His hands roved over me, pushing my shirt up and gliding over my skin with smooth confidence.
I wriggled a little under him so he could pull the shirt over my head and toss it to the floor. A tiny voice in the back of my mind spoke up. This is Joss, Morena. Your best friend since… ever. Do you really want to do this?
Joss shrugged off his undershirt, revealing a physique that was all brawn, his dark skin silky and warm.
Fuck yes, I wanted to do this. I ran my fingertips over his wide chest and rippled stomach, my pussy clenching just from having him kneeling between my legs. Joss’s gaze had gone heavy-lidded as he looked me over, and his hands found my jeans and unbuttoned them.
My lungs seemed to fail me as he slid them over my hips and hooked his thumbs through my panties. Joss paused, his gaze burning into me. “Yes?”
“Oh, yes.” I slithered the rest of the way out of my clothes, nipples hardening when he swallowed, taking me in from head to toe.
He slid off his own jeans, revealing the deep V of his stomach that led to a thick, perfectly-shaped cock and muscled thighs.
Lust swamped me when he climbed over me, as lithe as a panther, resisting all the strength I put into trying to hold him over me in a deep kiss. Joss’s lips trailed over my breasts and stomach, his tongue snaking around my nipples and moving downwards.
He pushed my legs apart, pinning my knees to the bed.
I couldn’t hold back when he kissed his way down my lower stomach, parting my wet folds with his tongue and running it over me. My back arched, every nerve in my body lighting up. It’d been so long since I’d fucked someone that every graze and flick against my skin was hyper-sensitive, and the sensation of his lips sucking my clit almost sent me over the edge early.
It was almost impossible to believe Joss could make me feel this way. My eyes rolled back in my head, then fluttered closed as he held me open for him.
When I was panting, writhing under his arms, he finally had mercy. His tongue flicked against my clit, swirling slow circles until the pleasure crashed through me. My legs started shaking and his fingers tightened on my thighs, refusing to let me up until every muscle in my body felt wrung-out.
I still wasn’t done with him. I wanted to know what this new, buff, panty-dropping Joss felt like inside me.
He kissed the inside of my thighs before he climbed over me, his cock already hard. Even though I’d just come like I’d been hit with a livewire, my pussy still ached for more than just lips and tongue.
Joss let out a groan when he pushed into me, stretching me around him, and he stopped when he filled me to the base. His muscles were taut, his face buried against my neck, and I wrapped my legs around his hips.
He felt amazing, like he’d been made to fit against me just like this. I gripped his shoulders, my nails digging into the thick muscles of his back as he started moving. My gasps and moans as his cock pounded into me just made him move faster, the grind of his hips pummeling my sensitive clit until I felt another crest of pleasure.
I sank my teeth into his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as the orgasm exploded through me. Joss’s gasp when he came just made it last longer, his cock pulsing, hands gripping my hips so hard I knew there’d be marks.
Even once we’d settled against each other, taking deep, panting breaths and shimmering with sweat, I didn’t open my eyes until my heart had stopped pounding. Languid warmth washed over me, then shock.
We weren’t in my makeshift bedroom anymore.
The entire time I’d been straining against him, luxuriating in the feeling of my friend moving against me, I’d been thinking about nothing but him… and Bellhallow had taken those images from my mind.
I knew this room all too well, because it was the room at the top of the old watchtower by the forest, where we’d spent most of our time together before. It wasn’t falling apart, though. The magic we’d just generated had been enough to bring it all back from dilapidation.
The stone tower had gone through many phases, from our fort when we were kids, to the place where we hung up band posters and drank stolen liquor as teens, but my mind had conjured something else, and the wards had made it real.
The bed was fluffy with white linens, and everything that would’ve been left behind- shredded posters, empty glass bottles, birds’ nests- had vanished entirely, leaving the room spotless. A dark blue carpet depicting the constellations covered the cold stone floor, and a bronze lamp hung from the ceiling.
“Oh, fuck,” Joss whispered, lifting his head. The bed was even bigger now, Bellhallow providing for my not-so-imaginary needs. “You brought us to the watchtower.”
“I didn’t mean to.” I kissed his shoulder, moving my way up to his lips for a long kiss. He reluctantly let me get out of bed, and I padded to the huge window we used to fire arrows out of.
The forest spread before me, the roof of Bellhallow just visible. The evening sun painted the tiles red.
Joss’s hands slid around my waist, pulling me against him. He buried his face in my curls, breathing in. “Feels like hardly any time passed at all. Truth or dare?”
My laugh was still a little breathless. “Truth.”
Just like old times. Back then, though, we’d never really asked for truth, not when daring your friend to jump into a tree from the window seemed so much more dangerous and exciting.