Page 5 of The Other Side of the Mirror

Two hours later and too full of pumpkin spice, my phone buzzed. I wondered if my no-show date had arrived at the party just as I was attempting to make an early exit. Sure enough, when I checked my phone, a text from Clay was waiting for me.

I’m so sorry I’m late, something unavoidable came up. Please let me make it up to you. Can we meet at your place?

I raised an eyebrow and showed Quinn the text. I should have known she would be on his side—or at least on the side of me finding someone—as she gave me an enthusiastic thumbs up. I couldn’t help the upward curve of my lips even as I rolled my eyes, her romanticism ever the foil to my perpetual cynicism.

My phone buzzed again, Clay having obviously seen that I read his message.

I got you a birthday present. I’d love to give it to you today if you can forgive my tardiness. I would explain why, but it’ll make more sense in person.

“Come on…” Quinn whined from over my shoulder. “He even uses perfect punctuation while texting.”

Sighing at Quinn’s puppy dog eyes, I texted back the location of my spare key so Clay wouldn’t be stuck outside, along with a promise I would be there shortly. As much as I just wanted this day to be over, I could use the distraction for its final hours. Quinn gave me a long hug goodbye before waggling her eyebrows suggestively as she all but pushed me out the door.

At least I didn’t need to resort to my usual sneaky, premature exit.

As I rode my bike home, a growing sense of unease filled me. Abruptly, I was on high alert as I zipped past the dark streets. The early nightfall of the autumnal season was probably getting to me. But when I finally made it home and reached for my doorknob, something made me hesitate. My former military, security-minded dad had taught me early on about situational awareness—ingraining the need to always find my exits, note the best place to hide in every room, and stay ever vigilant. I had long since learned to trust my instincts through his overbearing training. Especially when it came to my own self-preservation.

Suddenly, there was an arm around my waist and a hand over my mouth, despite the vicinity being vacant a moment before.

“Don’t scream,” said an urgent, low, male voice. “There’s a?—”

I immediately bit down hard on his hand, stomping on his foot as I twisted from his hold.

A grunt of pain. “Nice move, hellion.”

I leapt backwards, raising my hands in a fighting stance as I took in my attacker. He might have been the most handsome man I had ever seen…tall, broad, and wild-eyed. Tousled auburn hair fell into mismatched blue and green eyes that felt familiar even as they sparked in frustration. A defiant jawline covered in dark-red stubble matched the sharp curves of his angular cheeks. Freckles dusted bronzed cheekbones and the rest of his rugged face. He was muscled in a way that was obvious even under his clothes—a leather ensemble that looked more ready for a motorcycle race than a stroll past my home.

At my perusal, a half-grin twisted his shapely lips. But when our eyes met, I was unprepared for the force of his gaze…as though it could unravel me. Time seemed to linger for an endlessly suspended moment. Something about the look in his eyes drew me to him, deep in my gut, and I felt my heartbeat quicken.

“Stay away from me,” I spat, shoving away that sense of connection as I lowered into a fighting stance long since drilled into me. My dad had insisted I start taking classes for self-defense when I hit my teens, though he trained me himself long before that. He had learned to fight during his time as a soldier and had been adorably befuddled that military-style training classes were now a popular workout. I cocked my head to the side and coolly said, “Boy, did you pick the wrong person to mess with.”

The stranger let out an exasperated breath as his brow furrowed. “You don’t understand,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “You’re in danger.”

Those jarringly familiar dual-toned eyes pierced through me. I swore they swirled like the start of a summer storm as he took a slow step forward.

“You mean from you?” I backed up against the door. “Clay! Let me in?—”

It swung inward. I fell backwards into something slick and moist, the scent of swamp and decay filling my nose. Then gasped as a slimy, thick hand pulled me back into a squelching, solid form—dragging me into my apartment.

“What in the…Clay?”

My eyes stung from the smell, but even distorted and coated in mud, my date’s face was faintly recognizable. He let out a grunt that might have been my name.

“Let her go,” the stranger growled, now standing in the doorway.

Clay only dragged me back further into the room as I twisted, trying to free myself. Sludge squeezed around me, and I sank into his muddy chest as his firm hold tightened. The stranger stepped forward, something dark flaring outwards in the corner of my eye, and the mud creature turned its head toward him.

I used the distraction to shove my elbow back, using the leveraged space to spin out of Clay’s sliding grasp, then shoved him away in the same movement.He let out a bellow. I was covered in black mud, and I resisted the urge to wipe it away while I desperately tried to sort out what was happening.

The stranger turned to me placatingly as we both backed into the kitchen. “As I said, I’m not here to hurt you. But that thing is.”

“That thing is…wassupposed to be my date.”

The stranger let out a rough laugh. “Thatthingis a golem that’s been sent to retrieve you. When you allowed it in, it must have deactivated the wards keeping you safe.”

“Invited…wards?” I stammered. “When I invited him over, he wasn’t?—”

The golem lunged at me, and I dodged under its heavy hands as they reached for my throat, rolling to the side before springing to my feet.

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