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“Can’t help young Molly. Only bear witness.”
When Sonya turned, walked back the way they’d come, Cleo’s heart sank. But Sonya turned toward the ballroom.
Cleo followed and texted again.
I think we’re going to the ballroom.
On Manor Rd, nearly there.
With the dark so deep that her phone couldn’t help, Cleo took a chance and groped along the wall for a light switch.
If Sonya woke, she woke, but she wouldn’t risk either or both of them taking a fall in the dark.
She found a light switch outside one of the anterooms, and when she flipped it on, Sonya simply continued toward the massive ballroom doors.
When she threw them open, stepped into the shadows, Cleo switched on the first of the chandeliers.
It showered light over the mirror that stood amid the furniture they’d undraped, searched through, shifted. Its glass tossed back that light as the predators framing it seemed to snarl as if guarding what centered them.
“What should I do? I don’t know what to do. What do you see in there? All I see is us. But… God, if it’s some sort of portal, I’m not letting you go alone.”
The cold cut to the bone, and she could hear the pound, pound, pound of that heartbeat from the Gold Room. Beyond the mirror, the shadows danced, but she feared stepping back far enough to turn on more light.
Then she heard the rat-a-tat of Yoda’s barking. And the deeperanswer of another dog. Trey, finally. She nearly called out, but she could already hear the racing footsteps.
“Please wait, Sonya. Just wait.”
They came up with a racket that steadied her nerves. Risking a glance back, she saw Trey hadn’t brought only his dog.
“Thank God. It’s here. The mirror. It wasn’t, but it’s here. She made some stops along the way. It’s been a journey.” Shivering, Cleo hugged her elbows.
“It’s a meat locker in here.” Owen stripped off his jacket, handed it to her even as Trey shrugged out of his own.
“Thanks. Should we wake her, Trey? I don’t know if we should. She saw things, she said things.”
As Trey started to drape his jacket over Sonya’s shoulders, she said, “I’m awake.”
Instead of the jacket, Trey draped himself around her. “You’re freezing, cutie.”
“I wasn’t. I don’t think.”
“Were you awake this whole time?” Cleo demanded.
“Just now. Standing here. I was dreaming. And I… don’t know. I don’t remember. I feel sort of out of it. Do you see the mirror? Is it real?”
“It’s real.”
With one hand in Trey’s, Sonya reached out to touch the frame. “I’m not dreaming, and we all see it.”
“Maybe”—Cleo rubbed a hand on Sonya’s back—“you woke up because we do.”
“Do you see what’s in it?”
“Mirrored glass,” Trey began. “And all of us.”
“No. No. I see…”
“Colors, movement. Light, shadows.”
