Mirrorlight (7 page)

“I just want you to know I don’t give it up for just any old mirror,” she said teasingly, then sighed when he gave her a look that said he didn’t understand her words. “Nothing.

Never mind.”

He grinned and tried to reach back through the mirror to touch her again, but his hand smacked the glass on his side. The mirrorlight began to fade.

“Oh no,” Cora said, giving him a sad look. “Don’t leave me just yet. Please.” But the mirror continued to fade, and she watched him plant a hand on it, as if trying to push his way through and finding it impossible. The mirror gave a strange shove, as if ejecting her, and she pulled her hand free.

Then the mirrorlight faded and she was left alone in her room, her legs boneless with pleasure. And as she watched the mirror fade and shimmer back to normal, Cora felt lonelier than ever.

She fell asleep in front of the mirror. She’d tried summoning him again after a time, wanting to just talk to him—try to communicate somehow. When he was gone, she felt so very lonely. But he didn’t return, no matter how frantically she tried to summon him by invoking any sort of emotion. Perhaps she could only call him to her once a day. With that thought in mind, she pulled the blankets down on the floor next to her and slept.

When she awoke the next morning, the mirror was as dull as ever. Seeing it made her a little sad, and she showered and dressed and then returned to her room, strangely reluctant to leave the mirror alone. What if she missed his return? What if it wasn’t tied to emotion after all? What if he just came to see her?

Muffin came by a few hours later, this time without any gifts of food. Cora wasn’t sure if she was thankful or a little sad at that.

“Big day today!” the old woman sung out.

Cora paused where she was pouring coffee for them in the kitchen. “Big day? How so?”

“Oh, lots of big things going on,” she said, reaching for the cup that I offered her.

“But first tell me…did your nice young man stop by again last night?” She blushed, wondering how much Muffin knew. “It took a bit, but I was able to summon him again.”

“Strong emotion,” Muffin said, crowing with delight. “I told you so! He must like you a lot to keep coming back. Most only see him once.”

Cora’s thoughts flew back to last night, his hands grasping her hips, his cock pounding into her flesh as she cried out with one of the many orgasms he’d given her.

She certainly
hoped
that he liked her. “Yes, I think we have a…a bond of some kind.” Muffin snorted. “More like animal attraction, if you ask me.” It wasn’t possible for her face to turn any redder. She touched the back of her hand to her cheeks in embarrassment, but couldn’t stop the smile that crept across her face. “At least you don’t think I’m crazy.”

“Crazy?” Muffin put a hand to her breast in outrage. “Dear me no, girl. I’ve been trying to find that boy a nice normal girl for centuries. He’s a picky sort.” Centuries? The old woman was senile. Cora shook her head slightly, still smiling as she thought of the mirror. Maybe she could pass him a book, teach him how to read. They could communicate by whiteboard…her thoughts raced ahead. Having a relationship with a man trapped in a mirror was not the most sane thing, but she wanted him, and she’d do whatever it took to keep him in her life. “Do you suppose Aunt Martha would let me buy the mirror to take home with me?”

Muffin slurped her coffee and then glanced over at Cora. “Why bother?” Why bother? Cora blinked. “Well, I’m only going to be here for a few weeks, remember? Then I’ll have to head back to the states.”

The old lady waved a hand at her. “He’ll be long gone before then, my dear.” Fear seized Cora’s muscles, and she felt time slow around her. “Gone…?”

“Oh yes,” said Muffin. “The anniversary of the big fire is coming up. Today. Or tomorrow. Maybe next week? I can’t recall, but on that day, he’ll disappear for another year or two, or ten…” She wrinkled her nose, thinking hard. “I forget how long exactly.” A year? Ten years? “Didn’t he…die in the fire?”

Muffin shrugged.

Her heart hurt just thinking about it, and she felt tears prick behind her eyes. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Not unless you can travel through time and save the poor man from roasting like a turkey.”

Cora flinched. She thought of the mirror, of the way it had parted to let them touch, but when they were done, shoved them apart again. If only she could pull him all the way through. He was real. He wasn’t…he
couldn’t
be dead.

Muffin chattered on, finishing her coffee and ignoring the half-hearted responses that Cora gave her. She eventually left, promising to return tomorrow with more baked goods.

She mentioned a chess pie, and Cora was willing to bet that she’d find a rook or a pawn stuffed in the crust—that would be Muffin’s sort of thing. She smiled at the old woman and waved her down the road.

As soon as the door was shut and Cora was alone, she bolted for the gift shop. She had to find out more about the fire that Muffin had mentioned. Surely there would be something—anything—in one of the books that went into detail. What day it happened.

She needed to know. Dread crept through her but she fought it back, reaching for the first book.

Several hours later, she’d gone through the stacks and stacks of obscure books once again, reading for details about the fire. When she’d found nothing, she went back and started re-reading again, hoping that she’d missed something. Every single book about Stonewood Abbey gave a hand-wave to the history of the establishing family, but not many details. The ones that did mention the fire didn’t mention a date.

She needed that damn date. Panic crept through her, starting with a small spark and fanning to a blaze by the time she’d gone through every book a third time. She raked her hair off her forehead in frustration, wanting to scream. Cora stared at the stacks of books all over the floor, then sighed and picked up the closest one again. She’d just have to keep looking—

“What the devil is going on here?”

Cora’s head jerked up, and she stared at the slight figure of Aunt Martha, wearing her sunglasses and rolling a carry-on behind her. She stood in the doorway of the gift shop, staring at Cora with her mouth open.

“Oh, hi,” she said, tugging her robe closed. God, when was the last time she’d worn anything but pajamas? She touched her hair, realizing it was a wavy mess. “This must look odd,” she said, jumping to her feet and staring in dismay at the mess around her. In her frantic need to find out what had happened to Aric, she’d sort-of demolished the gift shop. “I can explain.”

“You’d bloody well better explain,” she said in a sharp voice, striding forward and staring in disgust at the mess Cora had made. “You were supposed to keep the house clean, not trash it while I was gone. It’s a good thing I came back early! I never should have listened to your mother when she said you were just sad. You’re clearly unhinged.”

“That’s not true,” Cora begain.

“Letting you watch the house was a poor judgment on my part, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Today.”

“Oh, but I can’t leave,” Cora said, thinking of the mirror and the fire. She had to try and help Aric.

“I’ll change your tickets. Don’t worry about the money,” Aunt Martha said, waving off her concerns. “I want you packed and out of here by the end of the day. Understand?

And I’ll pay you for the full three weeks, Cora. Just…you need to go home and get some help.” Her aunt’s voice softened with concern. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think you should stay here any longer.”

She couldn’t go home. She needed to see Aric again. Panic fluttered, but she forced herself to smile and nod. “Of course,” she murmured. “I’ll just go upstairs and get my things.”

Aunt Martha followed her as she went up the stairs, clearly not trusting Cora to be left alone in the house.

Cora moved slowly up the stairs, her mind racing, and then down the hall, each step precise.

Martha followed close behind her. When she got to the door, her cellphone rang. She paused on the steps to answer it. “What do you mean, you can’t find my suitcase? I filed a claim.” She cast an irritated look at Cora and waved her forward, then put a finger to her ear and turned her back, talking into her phone. “No, it’s a blue suitcase.
Blue
.” A reprieve. Cora went inside her room and hesitated. Her aunt was still in the hallway, her back to Cora. She looked over at the mirror with longing…and an idea occurred to her.

She shut the bedroom door and locked it.

“Hey,” she heard Aunt Martha protest, her voice muffled through the door. “What are you doing?”

She shoved the chair under the doorknob seconds before he jiggled it. “I’m sorry, Aunt, but I can’t leave. Not now.”

Her aunt gave an outraged shout on the other side of the door. “You’re crazy! Let me in!” She jiggled the door again, and again, and when jiggling didn’t work, she began to pound on it. “Let me in, Cora. If you don’t, I’m going to tell your mother on you!” Like her mother could do anything to her. She was twenty-seven, for crying out loud.

Cora retreated from the door and went to the mirror.
Oh please, please let him be there
.

But there was no mirrorlight, and it looked like a normal mirror to her. She moved to it, laying her hand on the glass. “Please, Aric, if you can hear me, please…” Please what? Please appear and give her hand a squeeze before she left? She couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t tell him how she was feeling, how he made her feel alive even if he was just a ghost in a mirror.

But she still wanted to see him one last time, to know he was all right, to see that Muffin’s story about the fire was just that—a story. Her palm smacked against the glass and when it continued to remain as it was, she rested her forehead on it in frustration.

Please, please, Aric. Please show me that you’re all right. I need to know that you’re
all right before I leave you forever
. She closed her eyes and concentrated hard—so hard that her head began to throb, but she kept picturing him in the mirror, thinking of the way he’d touched her last night.

Martha continued to pound on the door, furious. “I’m getting a fucking screwdriver and I’m going to take this door off the frame, Cora. So help me god, if you don’t get out of there in the next instant!”

She ignored her, thinking only of Aric.
Please, Aric. Please. I need you
.

The scent of smoke touched her nostrils. Cora jerked backward, alarmed, blinking her eyes. Was she imagining things? But a quick glance at the mirror showed that plumes of smoke were trickling out of it, the mirrorlight so pale and thin that she almost imagined it as a trick of the imagination.

Then, it flashed and she saw Aric.

He was dying. Crouched before the mirror, his palm pressed against the glass on the other side, he waited there. The room he stood in was full of smoke and darkness.

She was too late.

“
He went in for some reason
,” Muffin had said. “
But everyone else was out of the
castle, so… if he didn’t go back in after someone, what was so important that he died for
it?
”

Horror made her throat knot. He’d come back in to see
her
one last time. To spend his last moments holding her hand.

“No,” she cried, even as she reached through the mirror to grab him. It wouldn’t let her through. She slammed a fist against the glass, anger surging through her. “Let me touch him! Let me through! Let me
through
!”

With each word, she pounded again. On the very last word…her fist went through the glass and she flinched, expecting to hear the mirror shatter. But there was no sound, only the heavy smoke scent filling the room.

“Aric,” she called, grasping his hand and shaking him, trying to get him to respond.

“Aric, please!”

He lay motionless against the mirror.

In the background, she saw flames roll up the wall across from him, and the smoke billowed. A sob rose in her throat. She had to save him. She
must
. Experimentally, she pushed her arm through the glass, and then the other arm, feeling the heat against her skin even through the mirror. The castle on the other side was an inferno.

She wrapped her arms around him, frantic to pull him through. His weight was heavy against her grip, and she staggered. She gave him a tug, but he didn’t budge, his body sliding against the glass on his side.

Martha pounded on the door again. “Cora! You let me in right now! This instant! I’m taking this door down right now!”

Cora pulled at Aric, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Please, Aric. Please. Wake up and help me.” His weight was heavy—too heavy. The flames crawled closer, and the smoke filled her own room. She coughed, tugging at Aric. She couldn’t breathe through the smoke, but if she left the room, Aunt Martha would never let her back.

If she left the room, Aric would die. She tugged at him again, trying to pull him through the mirror. Nothing. He was firmly anchored on the other side.

The door behind her grew quiet, and then she heard the sound of a power screwdriver, buzzing and angry. “I’m taking the door off the bloody hinges, Cora! And once I do, I’m throwing you out on your ass! You just wait until I talk to your mother, young lady!” The smoke continued to pour in. The door pounded and shook behind her. She coughed and tugged at him, but it was no use. It wouldn’t let him through—wouldn’t let him enter her world. As always, they would be forever separated by the mirrorlight.

That goddamned mirrorlight.

Anger burned through her, and she wrapped her arms around his torso. “I am not going to let you take him from me,” she told the mirror, punctuating each word with a tug at his body. “He belongs with
me
.”

The screwdriver buzzed again, and the door shook, hard.

“He…belongs…with…me!” She cried, and gave a tug with all her might, bracing her feet against the mirror. “I finally found something I want to fight for. I want him.
You
don’t get to keep him
!”

She felt the mirror fighting her, felt the mirrorlight wash over her and for a moment, felt the intense heat of the fire on her face.