“Because I loved her. And love makes you stupid in ways that last centuries.”
Delphine’s expression softened. “That’s the first completely honest thing you’ve said to me in weeks.”
“I’ve been honest?—”
“You’ve been careful. There’s a difference.” She picked up her cold coffee, thought better of drinking it, and set it down again. “I appreciate the protection instinct. I do. But I’m not fragile, and I’m not stupid. If mirrors are recording us, if this network is dangerous, if Gideon’s using Charlotte’s work to hurt people—I want to help stop it. Not be sheltered from information that might actually keep me safe.”
Thunder rolled through the Quarter. Closer this time, storm moving inland from the Gulf. The Archive’s windows reflected lightning in rapid sequence—flash and fade, flash and fade, each burst illuminating words that appeared and vanished too quickly to read.
“What did those say?” Delphine moved back to the window.
“Don’t know. Too fast.” But Bastien had caught fragments. Phrases in Charlotte’s handwriting, rendered in light instead of ink.
love persists . . .mirrors remember . . .he won’t forgive . . .
The lightning stopped. Rain continued its steady percussion against glass. Their reflections held position in the window, synchronized now but watchful in a way that made Bastien’s celestial senses itch. The mirrors were paying attention. Learning. Storing this conversation for replay in contexts he couldn’t predict.
“We should leave,” he said. “Let the building settle. Come back tomorrow when the network’s dormant.”
“The network is dormant during daylight?”
“It’s weaker. Gideon’s modifications intensify after sunset. Something about the way mirror surfaces interact with electric light versus natural illumination.”
Delphine gathered her ledgers, stacking them with the precise care that meant she was processing information faster than she was speaking. “Can you stop him?”
“I’m working on it.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.” He held the door open. “I’ve been mapping the network. Finding nodes, testing ward configurations, trying to understand how Charlotte’s original design was corrupted. But every time I think I’ve found the pattern, Gideon adds another layer. Tonight with thewerewolves, last week with the river turning reflective. The network’s growing faster than I can contain it.”
They moved into the hallway. Emergency lighting cast everything in amber glow that made distance harder to judge. Delphine’s footsteps echoed wrong—arriving from directions that didn’t correspond to where she was walking.
“The mirrors are doing that too?” she asked.
“Acoustic reflection. They’re replaying your steps half a beat after you make them.”
“This is deeply unsettling.”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve been dealing with it alone for how long?”
“Two weeks since the auction house. Longer if you count preliminary research.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Because telling you makes you complicit. Because knowledge is liability when mirrors remember everything they hear. Because I spent a century protecting Charlotte from consequences she created, and I’m not good at learning new strategies for loving brilliant women who refuse to stay safely ignorant.
“Because I wasn’t sure what I was dealing with,” he said instead. “And I didn’t want to alarm you until I had something concrete to report.”
“Well, mission accomplished on the concrete evidence.” She pushed through the Archive’s front door. Rain soaked them immediately, October storm warm and heavy. “What do you need from me?”
“Stay away from mirrors as much as possible. No unnecessary conversations near reflective surfaces. And if you see your reflection doing something you’re not actually doing?—”
“Don’t engage with it. Got it.” She pulled her jacket tighter. “Anything else?”
Bastien looked back at the Archive. Every window showed their departure reflected in glass, images perfectly synchronized with their actual positions on the steps. But in one second-floor window—a pane he couldn’t remember being visible from this angle—both their reflections stood facing each other instead of walking away. They were close enough to touch. And in the reflection, they were touching.
