I let out a short whistle while reaching for my phone and flicking through my photos until I found the one of her with a young Violet. Geraldine’s breathing quickened to the verge of hyperventilation.
“Now, I’ve already met the pretty blonde, but I don’t think she has what I’m looking for, does she, Geraldine?”
“You can’t have her!” she screeched, rocking to the side until she began to tip. I caught her before she fell, putting the chair back on all four legs. “She’s mine! She’s mine!”
“Okay, calm down, you crazy bitch.” I leaned over her, my height and her seated position forcing her head back obscenely. “I’m not here for Violet. I’m here for the USBdrive you stole. My employer is pretty insistent on getting it back.”
She tried to hold my gaze, but her eyes flickered past my shoulder toward the half-closed bedroom door. A tiny, involuntary glance. The corner of my mouth twitched, but I held back a grin.
People always gave away more with a glance than they ever did with words.
“Was it the mirrors? Did you find me through the mirrors?” she cried out when she looked back at me, her eyes bulging and her face so red she resembled a tomato.
I squinted at her. “Mirrors?”
“She’s mine. They can’t have her!” she continued. “She’s mine!”
I gripped her throat, pressing against the sides. “Pay attention,” I hissed, losing my notorious patience. “Where’s the?—”
My phone vibrated, set off by the motion detection sensor I’d planted outside the front door.
“Shit,” I muttered quietly, looking down at Geraldine who was sobbing, her eyes empty as she became lost inside her own head. Making a split-second decision, I removed the ropes keeping her immobilised and shoved her and the chair towards the dining room table.
The front door clicked open, and I grabbed my bag before slipping into the bedroom on silent feet. For a split second I stared at the wardrobe, then dropped to the floor, squeezing myself under the bed.
Well, this was delightfully awkward.
Violet
The door took the brunt of my bad day as I slammed it shut, rattling the frame with all the frustration I’d bottled up since this morning. The gallery had been a disaster from the moment I’d arrived. I was late thanks to mum and a missed train, only to find out I had to be present on the floor when all I wanted was to hide in the back.
The Devereaux piece never arrived, which just made Noah, my boss, more agitated than normal.
“Sorry I’m late?—”
“Violet?” Mum rushed at me, crushing me to her chest before I could even flick the lock. “We have to get out of here. We have to?—”
“Mum? What happened?” I pulled myself back, horrified by the strange marks encircling her wrists. “Did you hurt yourself again?”
“You don’t understand,” she hissed, grabbing my hand and holding it in a vice. “We’ve been found! He’s here!”
“No one’s here, mum,” I murmured, my attention darting to the window where newspaper had been stuck over the glass again. “Look, it’s just us.”
But she was barely consolable, her eyes wild as she looked around as if searching for ghosts.
“He’s here,” she said, adding bite to her words. “I felt him! He’s real!”
“Mum, there’s no one here!” I widened my arms, and she flinched when the movement pulled my hand from hers. “Look!” I stormed towards the bathroom, yanking back the shower curtain to emphasise its emptiness.
“He’s here,” she simply repeated, seemingly terrified.
This time I moved towards my bedroom, throwing open the wardrobe doors and shoving at both our clothes. “See, there’s no one, mum. It’s just me and you.”
“Check under the bed!” she screeched.
“There’s no one here!” I shot back.
A sharp sting across my cheek, and I gasped, taking a moment to realise mum had slapped me. “This is your fault!” she cried, trembling against her imaginary demons. “They found us because of you! The mirrors… the mirrors…”
