“Fine. But we wait until I’ve verified the network is stable. I’m not bringing you into the vault until I can assess the potential for any ramifications from the lattice collapse.”
“Fair.” Delphine stood. “How long will verification take?”
“The rest of today. Maybe into tomorrow.”
“Then I’m going to the Archive. I have work to do and sitting here watching you not appear in mirrors isn’t productive.” She grabbed her bag from the counter. “Text me when you’re ready.”
She left before he could respond, the shop’s door swinging shut behind her with a soft chime.
Maman watched her go. “That one’s going to give you trouble.”
“She already does.”
“Good. You need trouble. Keeps you honest.” She sipped her tea. “The vault will recognize her, you know. When you bring her down.”
Bastien turned to face her. “Why?”
“Because Charlotte designed it to respond to anchor resonance. And Delphine carries that resonance whether she remembers Charlotte or not.” Maman set her cup down. “The vault will try to activate through her. You need to be prepared for that.”
“I won’t let it take her.”
“I know. But she may not want your protection when the time comes.” Maman’s eyes held accumulated wisdom. “She’s stronger than you think, petit ange. Strong enough to make her own choices about risk, even when you disagree with them.”
He knew that. Had always known it. But knowing didn’t make the prospect of watching her walk into danger any easier.
“Go,” Maman said gently. “Check your network. Take your measurements. Convince yourself you’ve protected what needed protecting.” She stood, collecting the empty teacups. “But remember—some things can’t be protected. Only witnessed and honored.”
Bastien left the shop as morning sun climbed higher over the Quarter. He walked through streets still damp from last night’s storm, passing reflective surfaces that showed the city in perfect detail while erasing him from every image.
By the time he reached his apartment, he’d checked forty-three mirrors, seven store windows, and countless puddles.
Not one showed his face.
The city had forgotten how to see him, and Gideon had lost his most powerful surveillance tool.
But Bastien couldn’t shake the feeling that invisibility carried its own dangers.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Bastien spread the photographs across his kitchen table at three in the afternoon, having spent the morning walking every mirror node he’d mapped. The images showed a pattern he’d missed before—or one that hadn’t existed until now.
Mirror anomalies clustered in specific locations. Not random. Not organic spread through contamination. Deliberate placement forming a shape he recognized from Charlotte’s original work.
The confessional lattice. Five points arranged in a pentagon around Jackson Square, each one anchored to a site where Charlotte had installed reflection chambers. But the energy distribution was wrong. Instead of flowing evenly through the network, resonance pooled at intersection points—places where Charlotte’s design overlapped with modern drainage, where old glass met new construction.
And at every pooling point, the mirror behavior showed identical corruption. Temporal displacement exactly three seconds ahead of real time. Reflections that whispered Gideon’s philosophy in voices pulled from other conversations. Visual distortions that showed futures designed to instill doubt.
Induced destabilization. Not a flaw in Charlotte’s design. Manipulation.
His phone sat beside the photographs, screen showing a message from Delphine sent twenty minutes ago.
Delphine:Found something. Meet me at the Archive?
He’d told her to rest. To stay away from reflective surfaces until he verified the network stability. But Delphine ignored protective instructions with consistent determination.
Bastien gathered the photographs into a stack, slipped them into a folder, and headed out.
