Page 41 of Necromance
I staggered backward, heart slamming against my ribs. My reflection’s head twitched once, then again. And, then it slammed violently into the glass from the other side. I spun around.
And that’s when I saw them. All the mirrors, every single one now filled with me… but not me.
One of them was grinning so wide that her cheeks split open like torn parchment, blood running down her chin. Another had no eyes, just hollow pits oozing thick, black ichor. One clawed at the inside of the glass with bloodied hands, her mouth open in a silent, endless scream.
They were all watching me. Moving when I didn’t. They tilted their heads in unison. Then again. Twitched. Smiled. Twitched again.
The sound started next—a chorus of soft, wet laughter that didn’t echo but slithered into the corners of the room. It came from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. A gurgle, a rasp, a choking giggle that built and built until I pressed my hands over my ears to block it out.
”Stop it,” I begged. “Stop it, stop it, stop it—“
The mirrors began to crack, not all at once, but slowly, a jagged split down the center of one, then another.Spiderwebs of shattered glass spread like veins, distorting the horror behind them, but they didn’t disappear. They pressed closer. The mirror in front of me buckled outward, the glass bending as if something was trying to crawl through.
I turned to run… but the door was gone.
Gone.
Only another mirror sat in its place now, and in it, my reflection stood still, her hands folded calmly in front of her… and blood dripping from her smile.
”Miiiiia,” she taunted and my heart stopped. I didn’t say that, but she did.
”Leave this place.”
I backed away right into another mirror and felt the cold glass pulse against my spine. Then I heard the scratching from within. Something inside of the mirror wanted out.
I turned and screamed just as a hand slammed against the glass. Pale, slender, with too-long fingers and blackened nails.
The candle extinguished. Darkness swallowed the room and in the silence, they all began whispering my name. I squeezed my eyes shut, crumbling to the floor as I covered my ears. Terror squeezed around my core and my whole body shook violently.
Suddenly, everything went still. Completely silent. The voices stopped.The laughter. Even the cracking of glass fell silent like someone had sucked all the sound from the room. I sucked in a sharp breath, shaking in my throat as I strained my ears for any noise.
I opened my eyes just enough to see that my candle was lit again, firm and steady. All of the mirrors were empty and whole again.
”Mia?”
The voice was familiar, deep, rich, with that velvet darkness I’d come to crave.
Lucien.
I spun toward the doorway. He stood just beyond the threshold, wrapped in shadows, but I’d know his silhouette anywhere. Tall, sharp-edged, with his dark coat draped like ink around him. My heart lurched.
”Lucien,” I gasped, stumbling to my feet toward him. “Thank the seven realms you found me… this room… there’s something wrong with it—“
He moved swiftly, silently, closing the space between us and gathering me into his arms. The moment he touched me, some of the fear in my chest loosened. I pressed my face against his coat, breathing him in, needing that solid weight and familiar presence to ground me.
His hand stroked down my spine, slow… almost too slow. I shivered. Something about the way he held me was different—possessive in a way he’d never been. His touch lingered just a beat too long. His arms tightened slightly, almost uncomfortably. I pulled back to look at him. He smiled—but it was wrong.
Too wide. Too perfect.
His eyes glittered, but the warmth I knew—his warmth was gone.
A chill ran down my spine and I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. He jerked my head roughly, leaning his mouth to my ear.
”You lied to me about the curse,” he seethed softly, his lips brushing my skin. And then, his hand slid around my throat, then tightened.
I gasped, a strangled, pitiful sound, as my feet lifted off the floor. My hands shot to his wrists, nails digging in, but he didn’t even flinch. His grip was steel, cold and unwavering.
”L-Lucien,” I choked out, barely a strangled whisper.
