Via our tracking app. The five of us are connected with emergency alerts activated. If any one of us push the SOS button, everyone will be notified.
Harper continues bouncing, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her winter coat. “And then what—spray her with the mace Jake got me for Christmas?”
“I brought the onyx,” I say. Ever since my little run-in with the mimic, I haven’t left home without it. “If Lainey tries anything, I’ll use it against her.”
We shuffle forward in line as the attendant invites Lainey and Brynn into the maze.
Naomi pulls out her phone. “I’m going to let Twig know we’re about to go in.”
“I don’t love this plan,” Harper mutters, fidgeting nervously.
I can hardly blame her.
Of all the attractions here at the fair, this one is the most unsettling. Mirrors have a long-standing association with the uncanny—harbingers of bad luck, a trap for dead souls, a portal between worlds—and we’re about to enter a maze full of them. I wrap my gloved hand lightly around the onyx in my pocket, careful not to apply undo pressure. If any evil entities show up, we have a way to fight back.
Laughter echoes inside the labyrinth.
The pimply-faced attendant takes our tickets and unhooks the stanchion. I start bouncing like Harper, eager to get inside, eager to locate Lainey as quickly as possible. But as we step into the dark, narrow corridor, we are quickly lost in distorted, endless reflections. I walk with my hands outstretched, unsure if I’m about to turn a corner or bump into a mirror when my forearm begins to prickle.
A giddy squeal cuts through the air.
It sounds like Brynn.
“In here,” Harper says, pulling me along.
We step inside a room that makes everything flip upside down—a trick of the giant mirror in front of us.
A wave of dizziness washes over me.
“Whoa,” Harper says.
Naomi comes into the room behind us, her phone’s flashlight beaming ahead. It hits the mirror and shines into my retina.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
The ground tilts under my feet.
A searing heat ravages my arm and I am overcome with a hunger so acute, it’s painful.
It thrums like a heartbeat.
It thrums like their souls.
I want.
I need.
To feed.
But I must wait.
I need two more.
And the girl.
A vision of myself, standing in this upside-down room, flashes so hot and sharp my eyes fly open.
But I am not in an upside down room. I am standing on a bridge looking at a pond, its surface glittering like starlight. The stone plinth in its center is swallowed by red, thorny vines that wrap around a familiar clock. They crawl out of the water, winding around bodies positioned along the bank—prisoners hovering like frozen tableaus. The vines have burrowed inside their chests,where a glowing orb pulses like a heartbeat, casting ominous light along their slacken faces.
