Page 6 of Hex Appeal
Except… something felt wrong.
The corridor looked the same. Lockers, trophy case, bulletin board with thirty copies of the same ‘Drama Club Bake Sale!’ flyer, but the colors were off. The white walls were grey. The floor was darker. Even the fluorescent lights had a weird, watery glow, like they were shining through fog. The air was heavier, too, as if it had been steeped in silence for years.
The colors didn’t just fade, they leaned away from me, like I didn’t belong here.
A cold weight settled in my stomach. I knew this place. Not from being here, but from stories my grandfather used to tell when I was a kid, back before I knew they were lessons.
“The Mirror Realm,” he’d said, keeping his voice low like he thought the glass in the windows might overhear him. “A place that looks like ours, but it’s hungrier, and it’s patient. Never step through a reflection unless you’re sure you can step back.”
I hadn’t listened then. Now, I wished I had.
The silence was wrong, too. It wasn’t just that no one was talking, it was the way the sound of my own breathing seemed to get lost, folding into itself like I was standing in a room lined with soft cloth. Even the faint hum of the lights was gone.
I took a cautious step forward. My sneakers didn’t squeak. They didn’t make any noise.
Something flickered at the edge of my vision. A shadow slid across the lockers a few feet ahead, smooth as a spill of ink. I spun toward it, but the hallway was empty.
Then, I noticed the trophy case. The glass was so clean it looked non-existent, except the reflection wasn’t quite right. The hallway behind me in the glass was darker, the shadows stretched thin and long, and at the far end, I thought I saw someone. Tall. Still. Watching.
My throat tightened. I told myself it was a trick of the light and kept moving.
A door stood ajar at the end of the hall, opening into the forest where the parking lot should’ve been. Through the gap, I saw silver-grey trees, their leaves unmoving in air that didn’t seem to breathe.
I reached for a low branch that arched across the threshold and froze. In the reflection of the glass door, my hand closed around it. Out here in the real-not-real air, my fingers passed straight through like it was smoke. The branch in the reflection twitched, as if it felt me anyway.
I yanked my hand back.
Somewhere out among the trees, a low hum rose, almost too soft to hear. It wasn’t wind. It wasn’t birds. It was a voice, deep and smooth, curling through the silence like it belonged here.
Perhaps, it did.
Chapter 4
Jess
I woke with a low hum in my ears, the kind you feel more than hear. It faded the second I sat up, but the shiver it left behind clung to me all morning.
On the way to school, I told Bianca everything: the kiss, the sparks, the silver-eyed imposter, and Baba Yaga’s one-week deadline. By the end, Bianca’s mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish.
“So, you summoned a magical evil twin boyfriend who’s slowly killing the real Nate?”
“Yes.”
Bianca burst out laughing. “Jess, I swear, every time you try magic on Nate, it goes wrong. Every. Single. Time. Remember the love-charm cinnamon rolls that gave him hiccups for three hours? Or that ‘study motivation’ spell that made him alphabetize his snacks? You’re a one-woman cautionary tale.”
“Not helping,” I muttered.
“Oh, I’m helping. You just don’t know it.” She smirked. “Also, you know that blog you think is run by some anonymous witch who writes about magical dating and other disasters? Yeah. That’s me. Your Nate schemes are my most popular posts. People love them.”
I groaned. “You’ve been live blogging my humiliation?”
“For the good of the magical community,” she said with mock innocence. “Public service, really.”
“So, what do you think about the newest dilemma?”
“That’s… Honestly, it’s kind of impressive. Terrible, but impressive.” She pulled into a parking space at school and turned to me. “Jess, if this mirror guy is even half as dangerous as you’re making him sound, don’t try to do this alone, okay? I’m not magical, but I’m not useless.”
By the time we’d reached the school doors, I had exactly two things on my to-do list:
