Page 45 of Mirror of Vanity

He lunged, his blade a blur of deadly motion. Justice met him head-on, their swords clashing in a shower of sparks. I darted to the side, my mind racing as I tried to formulate a plan.

We needed to find a mirror to uncover the secrets that could break the demons’ hold on people and supernaturals. I wondered if it would loosen the Grimoire’s hold on Garrick and restore his stolen memories. At least about Maggie. First, we had to survive this fight.

The clash of swords echoed through the Archives, each metallic clang sending a jolt of fear through my body. Justice’s and Garrick’s breathing grew labored, releasing grunts of exertion and pain as they traded blows. The scent of sweat and blood hung heavy in the air.

I scanned my surroundings, looking for anything to give me an edge. My gaze landed on the nearest towering bookcase again, and a desperate plan began to form.

I ran to the bookcase and planted my hands against its rough, wooden surface. With a grunt of effort, I pushed with all my might, hoping to topple the heavy shelves onto Garrick and break his concentration. The bookcase refused to budge, remaining solidly in place as if mocking my efforts.

I cursed under my breath, realizing the shelves must be bolted to the floor. I couldn’t rely on brute force to win this fight. I needed to be smarter, faster, more creative than my opponent.

A loud cry of pain made my head snap around. Justice was stumbling back, his sword arm hanging limply at his side. Garrick advanced on him, his eyes glinting with a feral, triumphant light.

My heart seized. I couldn’t let Garrick win, couldn’t let him take Justice from me again. With a burst of desperate energy, I leaped up, scaling the bookcase like a cat.

From my new vantage point, I could see the two men below, their swords flashing in the dim light of the Archives. Garrick’s back was to me, his attention fully focused on Justice.

I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed an armful of heavy, leather-bound books and launched off the top of the bookcase. As I plummeted toward Garrick, I released a fierce battle cry, unleashing a hail of impromptu projectiles.

“Chew on this, you Grimoire-possessed bastard!”

The books rained down on Garrick, striking his head and shoulders with bruising force. He staggered under the onslaught, and his sword wavered.

I hit the ground in a roll, coming up in a crouch next to Justice. I met his startled, pain-filled gaze with a fierce, determined one.

“I’ve got your back.” I reached for another book. “Let’s finish this.”

Justice lunged forward, his sword a blur of silver. Still reeling from the onslaught of books, Garrick couldn’t bring his blade up in time to parry. With a cry of pain and surprise, he dropped to his knees.

Justice towered over the fallen king, his chest heaving with exertion and rage. He raised his sword high, the point aimed directly at Garrick’s exposed throat. At that moment, I saw a fury I had never witnessed before in his eyes. A primal, protective wrath that sought to eliminate any threat to my safety.

Beneath that fury, I also saw pain. The pain of betrayal, of being forced to fight a man he had considered a friend. The pain of having his memories, his identity, ripped away.

I lunged forward, grabbing Justice’s sword arm with both hands. “No, don’t!”

Justice’s head snapped toward me, his teeth bared in a snarl. “He was going to kill you.”

The anguish in his voice tore at my heart. Justice would do anything to protect me, even if it meant striking down a man who’d once been his ally.

But this was not the way. Garrick was a victim, just like us, a pawn in Maci’s twisted game.

“Don’t you see?” I pleaded, my voice cracking with emotion. “The Grimoire stole his memory of us. He’s our ally, not our enemy.”

I looked down at Garrick, who knelt motionless at Justice’s feet. The rage had drained from his face, replaced by confusion and fear. He looked less like a mighty king and more like a lost child, adrift in a world he no longer understood.

“We can’t let Maci win,” I whispered, turning back to Justice. “We have to find a way to break not only the Grimoire’s curse, to restore what was taken from us, but the demonic one that is possessing people back home.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I held my breath, hoping Justice would see reason. The Grimoire had changed them both, stripping away the essence of who they were. They had reverted to a more primal state where the only law was survival. The curse transported them back to a harsher, more brutal age, where life was cheap, and mercy was a luxury few could afford. Eras of chaos and bloodshed, when men settled their differences with steel and the strongest ruled through fear.

Yet this was not the past, and Justice and Garrick were not barbarians from some bygone age. They were men of honor, of principle, shaped by the experiences and relationships that defined their lives. I had to believe those core truths, those essential parts of their identities, were still beneath the Grimoire’s influence.

I had to believe our love, our friendship, was stronger than any curse.

Justice wiped his forehead with his arm, his chest still heaving from the exertion of the fight. “We can’t leave him like this,” he insisted. “He’ll attack us the moment our backs are turned.”

I nodded, my heart still racing from the adrenaline of the confrontation. “Then we’ll have to tie him up,” I suggested, already searching for something we could use as restraints.

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