His words were so jarring that I couldn’t even wrap my head around them.
Twobble cleared his throat. “That is extremely violating and exceptionally creepy.”
“Yeah,” I said, glancing at Keegan. “It is.”
Gideon’s gaze found mine. “Merely dabbling in magic is a personal thing, don’t you think? We get to find out one another’s fears or worries…or our greatest joys and accomplishments.”
I stared at Gideon. “You’re making a strong case for me throwing you down a stairwell.”
“I’d prefer we wait until after I’m useful.”
Keegan stepped between me and the mirror, his shoulders tense. “Can the tower hold real voices?”
“Yes,” Gideon answered.
“Can it mimic them?” Keegan asked.
“Yes.”
The mirror fogged from the inside, and for one terrible moment, I saw my mother’s face form in the glass. Pale. Frightened. Her eyes were wide as she pressed her palm against the other side.
“Maeve,” she whispered. “Please.”
My feet moved before I knew I’d told them to.
Keegan caught my wrist gently but firmly as the pendant at my throat went cold.
The mirror cracked down the center.
My mother’s face twisted with it, stretching strangely until the mouth widened too far and the eyes sank into darkness.
Twobble made a strangled noise as the mirror shattered inward without a sound, and behind the broken glass was only stone.
I stood there shaking, fury burning through the fear so cleanly that for a second, I welcomed it.
Keegan’s hand stayed around my wrist, his thumb brushing once across my skin.
I forced myself to keep walking as the corridor narrowed again before widening.
Up ahead, it split, and this time, the silver thread hesitated, twitching between two directions.
Somewhere far ahead, metal scraped against stone, and Celeste called again. The sound came from the right, and I turned immediately, but Gideon grabbed my arm this time.
I nearly clobbered him.
“Wait,” he hissed. “Listen.”
Another sound followed her voice.
Was it a breath or a sob?
Faint scraping repeated three times.
Short.
Short.
Long.
