He was there. Somehow, behind the mirror. The same imposing figure, broad-shouldered and muscled, slightly foggy, standing on the other side of the mirror. Strangely, I could still seemyface, but I could also see him. I had never seen anything like it. A tremor of fear went through me. How long had he been there? Had he been watching me as I changed? Fear turned to fury as I imagined him standing behind there like a creep.
“What thehell!” I hissed at the mirror, now simultaneously showing my reflection and his distorted figure. “What are you doing in mydressing room?What the hell is wrong with you?” I should have called for help. I should have run right out the door. But my rage got the better of me as usual, and my reaction was proportionately outsized.
“I do not have time to explain, I just need you to follow me. Now,” he had the audacity to command me. As if I was going to follow him.
“Are you out of your mind? Why the hell would I follow you anywhere?” I spat back at him. I was still technically talking to my own reflection, his outline hazy and warped through the glass. It didn’t matter; I was in a blind rage and I could hardly see anything anyway, my vision narrowing to a point.
“I know it sounds crazy, but you are in danger, Seraphina. Please, just put your hand on the glass. I need you to come withme.” His voice softened. He sounded as if he were… genuinely worried.
“Oh, I know I’m in danger,” I retorted. “I saw what you did in the paper. Terrorist.”
“Seraphina, I’m not a terrorist.” I couldn’t see his eyes clearly, but I could practically hear them rolling in the tone of his voice. “But you are in danger. And I will explain everything if you just put your hand on the fucking mirror,” he said with a growl, the softness gone from his voice.
“Absolutely not! I’m not going anywhere with a pervert who gets off on watching through women’s dressing room mirrors.” I turned to walk away, when the dressing room door rattled.
The door was locked, and theoretically no one should have been trying to get in. It was a private room. What was going on? As I turned back, Ciaran walkedthroughthe solid mirror.
By some trick of the light, or hallucination on my part, he was physically in the room. Before I had a chance to react, he growled and grabbed my arm, pulling me into the corner, between the costume racks and the wall. I tried to pull away, but he was too strong. He wrapped one arm around the front of my shoulders and chest, crushing me into his body. He placed his other hand gently over my mouth; it was a warning.
“Don’t make a sound, love,” he whispered into my ear. Darkness crept around us as we stood; we were now entirely shrouded in shadow. Terror flooded my system as I struggled against Ciaran’s solid arms. I couldn’t budge, and I was about to scream when the door to the dressing room burst open and three menacing male figures stalked inside.
The men, brutish and stupid looking, barged into the room where I was presumably alone. They didn’t have any distinguishing clothing, and I had never seen them before.
“Where’s the bitch? Boss said she would be in here,” the first man asked in a gruff voice.
My eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and I didn’t dare breathe too loudly. Was Ithe bitch?Who wasthe boss?I was so confused. And suddenly my terror was not directed at the man who held me captive in the corner, but at the ones who had just broken into my dressing room. I shrunk back into Ciaran and his arms banded around me tighter.
“Keep quiet, love.” His warm breath in my ear sent shocks straight to my core, goosebumps rising on my arms.
“She’s in here somewhere. There’s no other way out. Keep looking,” the second man answered.
They couldn’t see us huddled in the corner. We were completely hidden within the cocoon of shadows that seemed to be emanating directly from Ciaran. I didn’t know where to begin trying to process what was happening. So, I stayed still and quiet, watching as they tore apart the dressing room.
Ciaran’s chest moved as he breathed, tense against my back, and I couldn’t help but notice how much bigger he was while I was flush against him. I breathed in his scent, detecting soap and something herbal once again. It didn’t make sense, and Ciaran had broken into this room just as surely as these other men had, but he was protecting me. I couldn’t explain it rationally, but I felt safe with him. His arms flexed as I shifted against him, completely enveloped in his warmth, those mysterious shadows deepening around us.
I shouldn’t have trusted him; he was a wanted man. An enemy, as Seff had put it. But here Ciaran was, hiding me from these intruders, with shadows that seemed to be leaking from him, swirling like paint in water. He had walked through a solid mirror. Solid. If I didn’t know better, I would say that it was me, not Carlotta, who had been concussed, because none of this made any sense. But my instincts kept me quiet. Regardless of what Ciaran was, my gut told me that these men, trashing the dressing room, were worse.
They tore apart the costume racks and overturned every piece of furniture, walking right by us, close enough that I could have reached out and touched them. But they couldn’t see us. Whatever these shadows were, they shielded us completely.
“There’s no one here,” the first man said in his gruff and raspy voice. It was almost funny—they were like something out of a cartoon—but the danger was very real, and though it was absolutely absurd, I kept my chuckle to myself.
“Let’s go,” the third man said with authority, as if he were the one in charge. He aimed a kick at a pile of costumes that had fallen to the ground during the ransacking, as if I might have been hiding underneath. “She’s gone.”
And just as suddenly as they had come, they left, and I let loose a breath that I had been holding for the entire time they had been in the dressing room. Ciaran kept his muscular arms wrapped around me until he was sure they were gone.
“What the fuck was that?” I whirled on him, my face contorted in rage and confusion, the temporary calm I had felt within those shadows gone.
“Scion.” His one-word answer didn’t do anything to clarify what had happened, my confusion apparent on my face as he continued. “You did magic, Seraphina.”
I laughed. Oh, he was truly delusional, then. Maybe this was all some kind of elaborate game that he was playing. “You’re insane.”
“I’m not. And I will explain more, but I need you to come with me.” Ciaran snarled, his voice commanding—authoritative. I wasn’t about to listen to him.
“No. I need to find my friends.” I turned to walk toward the door, but he grabbed my wrist, his grip gentle but firm, stopping me from going any further. I whirled around, my eyes locked on the spot where his hand held me. I was seething, but his touch sent sparks through me. I could feel iteverywhere.
“You can’t. They’re going to try to find you. You need to trust me.” Ciaran’s eyes pleaded. Up close the irises I had originally thought were black were actually deep coffee brown, flecked with warmer chocolate toward his pupils. They were hypnotic. Beautiful. I don’t know why, but at that moment, Ididtrust him. I was in his thrall, a magnetic force pulling me toward him—something I could not quite explain rationally—some dark chemistry linking me to him. His hand was still wrapped around my wrist and I could hardly breathe.
“Where are we going?” I gave into him, still staring into those eyes, the colours so alluring. And perhaps it was stupid. Perhaps agreeing to follow a wanted criminal was a rash and irresponsible decision. But at the moment, I didn’t really care.
