“I think it’s a chicken.Wasa chicken.”
“Only one?”
“It’s amazing how much blood a single poor bird can produce, right?” He shook his head and blew out a harsh breath. “The area youth have long been fascinated by this place. Apparently, they’ve done similar sorts of things before. Ms. Mason called the cops a few times complaining kids were doing rituals in her garden.”
“Because of the legend of the Perles family?”
He shrugged. “Like I said, I’m not from around here. But yeah, especially around Halloween the locals start talking about the Lady in White, or Soren Perles roaming the streets looking for bodies. Or both.”
“Old houses often carry legends with them—especially when they’re left abandoned for a while.”
Silence fell over them as they took in the bloody scene, repeated ad infinitum in the mirrors.
“Sheesh,” whispered Harper. “I’ve been known to enjoy a fried chicken dinner in my day, but this is enough to make a person a vegetarian.”
Detective Serrano relaxed a little and approached one mirror but stopped just short of banging into it. “Whoops. Wow, this is a confusing room. Wouldn’t want to be drunk in here, if you know what I mean. Hey, what’s that say?”
The detective pointed to the bottom of each mirror. Etched into the glass were the words:S. Solam S. Tattler S. Echogordner Gematur.
“No idea.”
“I thought all you professor types knew Latin. You were spouting it earlier.”
“In the first place, no, we do not all know Latin. And anyway, this isn’t Latin.”
“Then what is it? Some sort of witchy mumbo jumbo? Speaking of which, this is one weird room. And I don’t mean because of the blood.”
“That’s reason enough for me,” Harper said. Despite her attempts to avert her eyes, she could see herself reflected over and over, as though she existed in hundreds of alternate dimensions. “Can we leave now? I don’t like this place.”
They made their way downstairs. The farther Harper got from Delilah’s “Reflection room,” the more she felt her regular self. The cobwebs fell from her thoughts as she trailed the detective back into the living room. Harper was almost sure she had seen her student Jenny running out with the others. Should she mention it to the detective?
“See anything that seems off in here?” he asked.
“Not particularly. It would help if I knew what I was looking for.”
“Just anything out of the ordinary, anything that strikes you as odd. This, for instance,” he said as he lifted the shroud from the mirror above the fireplace. “Any idea why this mirror would be covered up?”
Harper’s heart started to jackrabbit, but she felt compelled to look into the glass. The ornate gilt-framed mirror was so old that areas had oxidized or lost silvering altogether, leading to sections that did not reflect. But there was enough there to see…something.
Standing behind her.
Harper swung around. No one was there.
Looking back to the mirror, she saw it again. A sort of misty, barely-there image…then the haze began to swirl and solidify…
“What’s wrong?” the detective said, noting her expression.Frowning, he looked from Harper to the mirror, and back. “D’you see something?”
“Nothing,” Harper said, looking away. Surely it was a trick of the hazy light that streamed in through the multipaned windows. “It’s just…me and mirrors. We don’t get along.”
He let the shroud fall back onto the mirror.
“Your hair’s not that bad,” he grumbled in a sort of “what’s with women?” way. “Nothing a comb wouldn’t fix.”
“What? No. Not that…It’s…”
“It’s what?” He cocked his head. “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those nutty psychics, thinking you’re seeing things in the mirror.”
“I’d really like to leave, if that’s okay. And I’m still not clear on why you wanted me to come here with you today.”
