“I will shoot everyone here,” Leena yelled, but her threat was made from desperation. Bram was unconscious. Mackenzie Crane blocked the door. Burr held a pistol. An army approached. And the Wake was hunting them.
Then, a pounding at the door.
Burr parted the curtains to look out. “Soldiers,” he called. “A few of them. They’re preparing to break down the door.”
Orley glanced at his timepiece. “Our time is up. You’ve got no choice, madam. You will take me back to my world.”
“I want a deal,” Leena demanded. If Bram had taught her anything, it was the importance of a deal.
The demon locked his jaw.
The pounding intensified, the wood of the door splitting.
“Quickly,” he hissed.
Leena did not allow herself even a moment’s pause to think. “I will not leave without St. Silas. You will take us to a safe place. And you will hand me the cure for Detritus Poison.”
She wanted it in writing, but the hinges of the door began to rattle.
“Agreed, agreed,” Orley said, then turned to Mackenzie Crane. “I relinquish all ownership of the Black Coats to you. Glad farewells, my friend.”
Mackenzie raised a hand in parting.
Orley, oddly strong for a man his size, lifted Bram by the shoulders and dragged him down the dark hallway into the back of the house. There he led them into a chamber, empty save for a long mirror framed in gold and a few lit candles burned nearly to the stubs.
Leena looked down. The entirety of the wooden floor was covered with swirls drawn in salt, except for a path that led straight into the mirror. It was too dim to make out the shapes in the salt.
A scream curled in her sternum, an aching panic.
This room wasunnatural.
No, it was the mirror that was wrong. Evil.
She felt the same shuddering fear looking at her reflection as she had staring into the dark waters of the Hall of the Lake. A feeling of anguish, deep within her bones, imprinted on her spirit—an ancient understanding that no human should go near that mirror. That it was not meant for them.
“Come,” Orley urged, dragging Bram forward.
Leena took a step. Then another. A gallows walk.
Her reflection no longer resembled herself. The girl staring back possessed the same dark curls now loosened down her back, the same wild brown eyes, but her face was twisted and pained. Teartracks ran down her cheeks. Terror was carving a new face out of the one she already had.
A voice inside her begged her to turn back, to claw her own eyes out before allowing herself to see what lay behind the mirror.
As if sensing her thoughts, Orley grabbed her hand in a fleshy grip.
“Now,” he shouted. She could hear shouts from the other room—a shot being fired, a clash of steel. “Now! Take meback!”
She knew what would happen before she reached for the mirror.
At her fingertips, the solid glass dissolved like a curtain made of water.
She could taste sweetness on her tongue, like ripping the skin of a peach, as she stepped into the demon world.
Afire burned Leenafrom the inside out, so potent it felt as if her spine was being ripped apart.
She collapsed to her knees, entirely blind to her surroundings, attempting to breathe through the pain. Blood dripped from her nose and eyes, splashing the hardwood floor like crimson teardrops. She began gagging, and it took her bleary mind a moment to realize she was also coughing up blood.
It took minutes for the agony to finally cease. Leena collapsed onto her side, blinking through the haze. The bleeding had stopped, and she wiped her face with the back of her sleeve.
