Page 37 of Trick Me
His gaze locks with mine, and the air shifts. His fingers trace along my jaw, a slow glide that has me catching my breath. When he reaches my lips, histouch lingers, featherlight, and I swear I sense my pulse beneath his fingertips. My heart trips over itself as heat blooms in my chest, my skin, everywhere. He leans in, and I tilt toward him instinctively, dizzy with the pull of him. Is he going to kiss me?
A half sigh, half-amused hum draws both our gazes sharply to the side.
The witch leans back, her eyes alight like she’s just tasted something rich and rare. “You’ve both answered honestly to each other.”
“So we passed your test. We danced to your tune. What now?”
Her smile turns wicked. “Since you asked so nicely…”
She rises before us. “There is a way to release what binds you sooner. But it requires intention. And… cooperation.”
“You’ll need to perform a ritual together. One that acknowledges your bond, honors your pain, and surrenders the pieces of each other still inside you.”
The wolf inside me stirs uneasily. “What kind of ritual?”
“Not the sort that ends in fire and chanting,” she says dryly. “Think of it as a… communion. A confession. You’ve already begun. You just need to finish it with truth.”
Ash lifts his chin. “Tell us what to do.”
“Oh,” the witch hums, retrieving a scroll from thefolds of her impossible dress. “I think you’ll figure it out.”
She presses it into my hands, then steps back with a grin too wide to be friendly.
“Witching hour closes in,” she adds. “Don’t wait too long.” She starts to leave, then pauses for a moment, casting one last look over her shoulder. “Not all monsters show in the mirror, but the reflection always tells the truth, if you’re brave enough to look.”
And just like that, she vanishes into the crowds.
Ash and I are left with the scroll between us, silence settling like fog.
I glance at him. “You still ready to do this?”
His hand finds mine again.
“Now more than ever.”
Ash breaks the seal immediately, unrolling the parchment. We both lean in to read it.
The page is completely blank.
“Is this a fucking joke?” Ash growls, and this time the sound is purely human frustration.
I take the parchment from him, holding it up to the light. Nothing. Turn it over, still nothing. Hold it at an angle, squint at it, even sniff it, and absolutely zilch.
“There’s nothing here,” I admit, trying to keep the accusation out of my voice and mostly failing.
“Reflection,” Ash mutters. “She mentioned some cryptic message about reflection?”
“Mirrors,” I say. “They could show our message on the parchment.”
We search the ballroom first, and the mirrors here are all decorative and gilt-framed, so we both move quickly to the one closest to us at the rear of the ballroom.
I lift the page to the mirror, and we both stare into its reflection.
“Fuck!” Ash is frowning.
The parchment stays stubbornly blank.
“She did say ‘witching hour.’ That’s three a.m.,” I explain, slumping against a wall. “Maybe we just have to wait.”
