Page 46 of Mirror of Vanity

Garrick released a harsh, mirthless laugh. “I’ll kill you for this,” he panted. He raised his head, still dazed from the impact of the books. He blinked, squinting as if trying to bring us into focus. “Both of you, I swear it.”

I suppressed a shudder at the venom in his words. It was hard to reconcile this vengeful, violent man with the Garrick I knew, but I couldn’t dwell on that now. We needed to secure him and continue our search for the mirror.

My gaze landed on the heavy velvet drapes that lined the walls of the Archives. The cords that held them back were thick and sturdy, perfect for our needs. I hurried over and began to untie them. The plush fabric whispered beneath my fingers.

“You’re going to pay for this,” Garrick promised as I handed the cords to Justice. His low, menacing voice contained an undercurrent of something else. Fear, perhaps, or confusion. As if some part of him knew this was wrong, and he was not meant to be our enemy.

“Shut up,” Justice growled, kneeling to loop the cords around Garrick’s ankles and wrists. He pulled the knots tight. I caught the tension in his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes. This was hurting him, perhaps even more than it was hurting me.

As Justice finished securing Garrick, I laid a hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” I whispered, as much to myself as to him. “We need to find the mirror before he gets loose.”

Garrick narrowed his eyes. “And I will get loose. I promise you.”

Justice and I shared a wary glance as we stood. He led me away from Garrick. “What should we do now?”

I rubbed my forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache throbbing behind my eyes. The musty air of the Archives seemed to press down on me, making it hard to breathe. I tried to focus on the details of my vision, but they slipped through my grasp like wisps of smoke.

“I don’t know exactly,” I admitted, my voice sounding small in the stony space. “In my vision, there was some kind of mirror.” I dropped my arm, feeling a rush of frustration. Why couldn’t I remember more?

Suddenly, a flash of memory surfaced. “Maybe that painting Garrick told us about. What was it called…” I snapped my fingers, and the name rose to my lips like an incantation. “‘The Covenant of Shadows.’ Remember, Garrick was in the painting?”

Justice sighed wearily, the sound echoing off the towering shelves. “What do you remember about it?”

I closed my eyes, trying to picture it in my mind. “It hung in the shadows. The Fae were dressed in formal attire under a blood-red moon. We need to find it. Maybe it will lead us to the mirror and reveal what kind of demon we’re dealing with.”

“Oh, that will be easy,” Justice replied bitterly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Since this place is so cheerful.”

I scowled, feeling a flare of annoyance. I knew he was tired. We were both stretched to the limit, but we couldn’t afford to give in to despair.

“Stop being so pessimistic,” I snapped. Immediately, I regretted it. Justice was carrying as much of this burden as I was, and he had already lost so much.

“Then where do we look?” He scanned the library. “This place is daunting, to say the least.”

I took his hand and kissed his rough knuckles. “I know, but we can’t give up now.”

The tension in his hand relaxed, and he kissed the top of my head. “I’m sorry. We won’t. Let’s search the first floor first for Garrick’s painting.”

We began our search in silence, the tension lingering like the dust motes in the air. The Archive of Shadows was a labyrinth of knowledge, each aisle a new maze with secrets nestled in its curves and corners. The scale of the room made our task seem insurmountable. Shelves towered above us, stretching into the dimness, each packed with arcane objects and ancient books that watched us with an air of quiet judgment.

“Let’s split up,” I suggested, trying to make amends for my earlier harshness. “Cover more ground. Just…be careful. Who knows what other kinds of magic are trapped in here?”

Justice nodded, and we parted ways. I scanned every surface, searching for any sign of the painting. Here, the light was dimmer, the shadows longer. I passed statues, their eyes following me with silent accusation.

After what felt like hours, I entered a forgotten corner of the archive. A heavy velvet curtain, worn by time and neglect, hung in an alcove. Curiosity piqued, I drew it back. There, bathed in the pale light of the blood-red moon that shone through a nearby window, was “The Covenant of Shadows.” The figures in the painting wore opulent attire, their faces solemn as they stood under the ominous glow. Garrick was a shadow among shadows, his expression unreadable.

A thrill of victory surged through me. “Justice!” I called, my voice echoing through the vast room.

He arrived breathless, his footsteps echoing in the hushed stillness of the Archives. His eyes widened as he took in the painting, the rich colors seeming to glow in the dim light.

“This is it,” he murmured. His fingers hovered above the surface of the canvas as if he felt the power emanating from it.

Then he turned to me, a smile of wonder and pride transforming his face. He pushed a lock of hair off my cheek, his touch gentle and tender. “You’re amazing, Sawyer. I knew you would find it.”

Heat ballooned in my cheeks. The rush of warmth had nothing to do with the stuffy air of the Archives. Justice’s faith in me, his unwavering belief in my abilities, was a balm to my soul. In a world where everything seemed to be shifting and changing, where our memories couldn’t be trusted, I could always rely on his constant support.

“Thank you,” I whispered, pouring all my gratitude and love into those simple words.

Justice tilted my chin, his dark eyes shining with emotion. When he kissed me, it was like coming home, like finding shelter in the midst of a raging storm. His warmth seeped into me, filling me with new strength and determination.

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