Page 13

Mirror, Mirror…

K haos left me alone after his announcement that Zayne was dangerous. Oh, he did stay a few more minutes, but only to tell me that he wasn’t going to tell me any more.

He also said I was to ring for Brown and let him know when Zayne woke up. And not to ring on a phone either. There’s a freaking bell.

I sit on the sofa and watch Zayne sleep. Then I get up and explore the room, running my fingers over the leather book spines. The place is beautiful, but it gives me no more answers than Khaosti had. So I sit again and try not to dwell on how much weirder my already weird life has become.

Finally, Zayne’s eyes blink open. I hurry across to him and perch on the sofa at his side. “Hey, you’re awake. How do you feel?”

“Fine. What the fuck happened? Where the fuck am I?” He swings his feet off the sofa and sits up, running a hand through his messy hair.

“What do you remember?” I ask.

“I don’t…” He trails off, obviously recalling something. And by the appalled expression on his face, they’re not happy thoughts. “Tell me that was a nightmare.”

I wish I could. But there is no point in sugar-coating this. I shake my head. “At least I don’t think so, but then, I’m not certain of anything right now.”

He sits with his head in his hands, then looks up at me. “I remember things. Black things with red eyes, and we were running. One landed on my back and…” He reaches up to his neck and strokes a finger over his skin. “I was sure it bit me. It fucking hurt.”

I don’t know how much to tell him, but if he’s going to come with us, then it’s not fair to keep him in the dark. Besides, his shirt is drenched with drying blood and that’s a dead giveaway. “It did. I thought you were dead. But someone came and saved you. He killed that thing and brought you here. A… doctor”—that’s got to sound more comforting than a witch—“did something and it healed the bite. You’ve been asleep ever since. But you’re going to be fine.” Mostly. Except for the whatever it is that no one wants to tell me more about, the possibility that could make him go insane. Little steps.

“You know how seriously fucked up that sounds?” he says.

Oh yes. I decide to change the subject. “You want a drink or some food? Anything at all?”

He doesn’t need to think about that one. “I’m starving.”

This I can cope with—I’m a fast learner. I get up, cross to the bell, give it a press, and head to the door. As I open it, Brown is already standing there. He smiles. He seems like such a nice man.

“Can you tell Khaosti that my friend is awake, please? And would you mind bringing him some food and something to drink?”

“What would he like?”

I don’t need to ask. “Pizza and beer.”

“Of course.”

“Thanks, Brown. You’re the best.”

He looks a little surprised at that but nods and disappears to wherever he goes. I turn back. Zayne is on his feet and wandering around the room, prodding and poking things. It’s hard to believe he was so close to death only hours ago. In fact, he looks better than I’ve ever seen him, almost brimming with life, his skin glowing.

What’s going to happen to him?

What could be so bad that it could break his mind?

He turns back to me. “Let’s get back to the seriously fucked-up part. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“I would, if I knew. But I don’t.”

His eyes narrow. “Not good enough. Tell me what you do know.”

I sink down onto the sofa behind me, and Zayne sits opposite, arms resting on his thighs. I have to tell him something. Khaosti is going to turn up at any moment, and then we’re heading out to find the Crone. And Zayne is apparently coming with us in case he goes weird or something.

“Come on, Amber. What’s so hard?”

“Okay. Khaosti, the man who saved your life, is the same one who took me to Manchester last night. He came looking for me, which turned out to be a very good thing.”

“Yeah. Very timely. Maybe suspiciously timely. Did he give you a reason? Does he know who you are? Is he family?”

“No. At least, he says he doesn’t. But apparently, his brother knew me, and three years ago, he sent Khaosti a message asking him to keep me safe and take me to see someone who I presume will know who I am.”

“Where’s this brother?”

“He hasn’t been heard from since. Maybe he’s dead, which would go a little way to explaining why no one came looking for me. Anyway, I never turned up, and Khaosti has been looking for me ever since. Then somehow he found me. And don’t ask me how because I don’t know.”

“He’s going to take you to this person?”

“Yes, and you’re coming with us.”

“Why?”

“Because there might be side effects from the bite.”

He looks alarmed now, his eyes stretching wide. “What sort of side effects? I’m not going to turn into one of those things, am I?”

“No, you’re not. But the… doctor wasn’t sure if there’d be any complications. Just in case there are side effects, you need to be close to someone who knows how to deal with them. You’re going to be fine.”

“Have you got your fingers crossed?”

Yes. “No.” Luckily, at that moment, the door opens, and Brown appears. He enters and places the tray with food and a couple of beers on the table between us.

“Thanks, Brown.”

“My pleasure, my lady.”

“My lady?” Zayne asks as the door closes behind Brown. “Who the hell calls anyone my-fucking-lady?”

I grin. “Brown does.”

“Seriously fucking weird. Maybe I’m dreaming after all. Am I?”

He sounds so hopeful. But at least with the arrival of pizza and beer, it’s improved from a nightmare to a dream. “Maybe we both are.”

He picks up a slice of pizza and eats it slowly. Then another. If this is a dream, then it’s a dream with seriously good pizza. He’s on his third slice when the door opens, and this time Khaosti appears. He’s added a long black leather coat to his ensemble—it looks good.

Zayne’s eyes widen as he takes him in. He peers at me and raises a brow.

“This is Khaosti,” I say. “The guy I told you about.” Then I add, “He likes to be called Khaos.”

Zayne shrugs and continues eating.

Khaosti looks between the two of us. “Are you ready?”

Not really. I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to be ready for. Something churns in my belly. I don’t know what—fear or panic, maybe, tinged with a little excitement. I open my mouth to answer when the door opens again, and Brown appears.

“I noticed the young gentleman is in need of clean clothes.”

I snort. I don’t think anyone has ever referred to Zayne as a gentleman before. More weird. But he’s not wrong—Zayne smells of blood.

“If you would come with me, sir.”

For a second, Zayne looks confused, then he stuffs the last of the pizza in his mouth, washes it down with a gulp of beer, and pushes himself to his feet. He gives me a wide-eyed look over his shoulder as he trails out in Brown’s wake.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask as the door closes.

“No. You’ll see soon enough.”

“Don’t want to spoil the excitement, huh?”

His mouth quirks. “Something like that. Come, Brown will bring your friend.”

I follow him out of the room, expecting to head for the door and the car parked out front. Instead he takes a left turn in the hallway, walks for what seems like a mile, and then pauses at a set of double doors made of dark wood embossed with darker metal. He murmurs a few words I can’t catch, and the doors swing open, revealing stone walls and a broad stone staircase curving down into the darkness.

He heads down, and I stay put, my feet locked in place. Is he taking me to the basement to murder me and bury my body, never to be seen again? I know he saved my life, but maybe he’s decided that was a mistake. I mean, what do I really know about him?

“Are you coming?”

With a shrug, I follow. It’s not like I have a better option right now.

Torches set in stone sconces burst into life as Khaosti passes—and I thought the day couldn’t get any stranger. At least I’m not scared anymore. I think my brain has been overloaded with craziness and moved to the stage where it’s just accepting everything, or more likely storing it all away so I can bring it out later and have the screaming heebie-jeebies.

We go down and down. I count the steps for the first fifty and then give up. The air is chilly, getting colder as we descend until it bites into my bones, and I tug my jacket around me. Khaosti is far ahead of me now, though I can hear his soft footfalls on the stone. Finally, they halt, and the only sound is the crackle of the burning torches.

When I catch up with him, the staircase has come to an abrupt end, and the way is blocked by a metal door. He does the creepy whispering thing again, and it swings open, revealing a dimly lit chamber. The only light comes from the flickering flame of a single torch across the room.

I step inside, following Khaosti. The room is empty except for a tall mirror, which stands in the far corner. It is about seven feet tall and two feet wide, and it has a plain dark wooden frame.

But when I draw up close to it, I have no reflection. Nothing. My heart rate picks up.

“Is this Lucifer’s Mirror?” I ask.

“Of course not,” Khaosti snaps back.

Something moves behind me, and I almost jump out of my skin. But it’s only Zayne, looking very smart in clean black jeans and a matching T-shirt that appears to fit him perfectly. He has a vaguely bewildered look on his face—probably the same one I have on mine.

Khaosti turns to us. “A warning,” he says. “When we get through, do not speak until we reach the other side.”

I open my mouth to ask, through where , but he holds up a hand. “In fact, don’t speak until I tell you to. Starting now.”

Freaking control freak.

Zayne snorts. “Not happening.”

Khaosti takes a step toward him, suddenly seeming bigger, his eyes glowing. Oh, no. Maybe I should have warned Zayne about the werewolf thing. But I hadn’t wanted to put him off coming with us, because… well, I don’t think that would go down well. And it’s a comfort to have a familiar face nearby.

“If you want to survive this,” Khaosti says, “you would do well to take the advice of someone who knows what he’s talking about.”

“You, I suppose,” Zayne sneers. He’s never been good with authority figures.

I put my hand on his arm and stare him in the face, willing him to cooperate. Because Khaosti is right; at this point, he’s the only one here who has the slightest clue about what’s going on.

I feel the moment the tension seeps out of Zayne’s muscles, and he gives me a brief nod.

Khaosti turns back to the mirror that isn’t a mirror. He murmurs something low down that I can’t catch and the glass ripples, reminding me of a stone tossed in a lake.

Zayne’s hand slips into mine and he squeezes. I can’t take my eyes off the ripples; the mirror is starting to glow with a golden tinge that forms in the center and radiates out.

“Go,” Khaosti says.

Go where?

But I know, deep down. I step toward the mirror. Zayne’s hand tightens in mine, but I tug free, drawn toward that golden glow. I expect some form of resistance, but there’s nothing; in fact, the thing seems to suck me in…

…and spit me out the other side.