Page 2 of The Mirror

“Nope.” He scanned the room. “We know where we are. It’s the ballroom. Any idea when?”

“1916. I read Deuce’s Poole family history book and lookedthrough the pictures enough times to know this is Lisbeth Poole’s wedding reception.”

A man, obviously enjoying his gin, stumbled right through her. “Oh my God.”

“That’s beyond weird.” Frowning, Owen turned to her, studied her with eyes a slightly lighter shade of Poole green than her own. “Okay?”

She managed a nod. “We’re the ones out of place or time or whatever the hell. They don’t see us, or feel us. Or most don’t. She’s not here.”

“Who?”

“Hester Dobbs. Murdering witch. She’s not here, not yet. This isn’t her time either.”

“Seeing as she’d be dead over a hundred years.”

“Maybe we can stop her. It’s not a damn dream, so maybe we’re here to stop her. Thirteen spider bites, inside the wedding dress—that’s how Lisbeth dies today. If we can just—”

“What, strip her clothes off?”

“I don’t know. We have to try something. Where is she? Where the hell is Lissy?”

Owen pointed. “Other side of the ballroom? I’m taller, can see over more heads. I’ve seen pictures, too, and that looks like a wedding-type dress to me.”

He shifted Sonya to the left.

“Yes! Yes, that’s her.”

As she started forward, people danced through her. Some gave her a jolt, like a mild electric shock, others a chill that shot straight through her bones.

“It’s like walking through mud,” Owen muttered, and shoved a frustrated hand through his unruly brown hair. “Or fricking quicksand.”

“I know. I know. It happened like this before. I can’t see her anymore. It’s so crowded. Can you see her?”

“Just keep going. She’s moving to our right. She’s dancing. She’s—Shit!”

“What? What happened? I—” Now she saw, through a break in the dancers as they glided. The look of shock and pain on the young, sweet face.

And then the shriek.

“We’re too late, too late.” But she kept pushing forward. “If we can’t save her, we need to stop Dobbs from getting her wedding ring. She needs all seven rings. We need to get it first.”

As Lisbeth collapsed in her husband’s arms, Sonya felt the change in the air, the sudden brittle bitterness of it.

Hester Dobbs, her hard beauty glowing, her dark eyes sparking with venom, all but floated across the ballroom. Her waving fall of black hair seemed to stir in an unseen wind as she approached the dying bride.

Enraged, Sonya cried out, “Stop! You bitch. Leave her alone.”

Dobbs snapped her head around. For an instant, just an instant, Sonya saw surprise, and maybe a hint of fear ripple over the hard beauty of her face.

Then that unseen wind struck her, slamming into her like an icy fist. It broke her hold on Owen’s hand, sent her flying back, flying through people who rushed forward.

She landed hard enough to leave her dazed and dizzy. As she fought to draw in a breath, to push herself up, she watched a spider, wider than her palm, skittering across the floor toward her.

Real, she thought, it was somehow real, somehownow.

The room filled with screams, with weeping, with rushing feet as she tried to scramble up and away.

She saw its red eyes gleaming, and prepared for the first vicious bite.

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