Page 63 of Summoned
My breath catches. “What did you write?”
He snaps his fingers, and a small, antique mirror materializes in his hand. He extends it toward me. My eyes widen to the size of saucers at his handiwork. A dark red letter glows from the center of my forehead like a sinister emblem.
“You’ll bear a ‘G’ upon your brow, Baroness. The blood has already soaked into your skin. It will remain there until I decide otherwise.”
“‘G’ for Gaetano?!” I shriek.
“Or for God. Whichever you prefer to call me.”
I glare at him.The nerve of this bastard!
“Soon you’ll discover that submitting to me will bring you far more pleasure than defying me,” he says, keeping that wretched mirror up.
I know what he’s doing. He’s forcing me to face myself—the Baroness I’ve worked too hard to become, now reduced to the girl I’ve been running from for years. He wants me to confront how pathetic and powerless I am. How—
My heart leaps, this time for an entirely different reason.
At times, I’m all you wish to see,
At times, I’m what you wish to flee.
But I’m mere shape, no true possession,
An entity formed at your discretion.
What am I?
The reflection!
The answer blossoms in my mind, sparking every nerve until I’m ablaze with the revelation.
Reflection.
It was among my list of potential answers, though I kept wavering between it and “shadow,” “emotion,” and “imagination.”
Sudden resolve fills me. I square my shoulders as much as my position allows. “Really? You think you need to wave the answer right in front of me?”
The mirror remains poised between us like a barrier. “What’s the answer to the riddle, Nicole Vrancheva?” Gaetano says.
I frown upon hearing my full name. The surrounding air seems to freeze, and the world itself halts in anticipation. A week ago, I wouldn’t have sensed it, but now magic crackles through the silence. Dark energy, swarming like a nest of hornets, is ready to strike. My pulse gallops with the thrill of realization, but my heart falters as if chained. This is real. My life may end in seconds if I’ve misread the signs.
“Gaetano…” I swallow hard. “What happens if I’m wrong?”
His features are inscrutable. “I’ll place my palm on your forehead and release my magic into you. It will surge into your heart, then spread through your body, stripping it ofits life force. I’ll then take your soul and bind it to my castle. The sensation you’ll endure will eclipse the worst fear you’ve ever imagined. Then you’ll become a prisoner of my domain, a mere shadow. You’ll see me every day, yet never again will you be able to speak to me. Nor touch me. You’ll wither slowly, second by second, devoured by longing and despair. Indefinitely.”
My chest tightens. I wish the glint in Gaetano’s eyes signaled concern. More than likely, it’s the thrill of the hunt he savors.
I count to three in my mind and say, “Reflection. The answer to your riddle is the reflection in the mirror.” I stop breathing, expecting the sky to split open, lightning to strike, or some other dramatic spectacle befitting Gaetano.
Nothing of the sort occurs.
Instead, a faint breeze brushes against my skin, like a breath of fresh air.
Gaetano’s expression remains carved from stone, yet something in his stare sharpens. “That is the correct answer.”
He steps away from me, but I don’t move. The words land softly at first, then echo louder and louder through the storm inside me. The ache in my knees, the glacial air on my skin, the dried smear of blood across my forehead…All of it fades, leaving behind a single, quiet, staggering truth.
I’ve done it. I survived the first trial of the Black Joker.
