Page 247 of The Seven Rings
“Fifteen and forty-seven. Plenty of time left.”
“Whatever’s left, it’ll be enough. We’ve got to get back upstairs.”
They moved through the curling fog. The front doors slammed open as they started up the steps.
“Watch out for flying objects,” Cleo advised. “She’s weaker, I really think she is, but she’s a lot angrier.”
“She doesn’t understand what’s happening, not really.” Buoyant now, Sonya took Cleo’s hand. “She had seven rings, and now she only has one. She doesn’t understand.”
“And maybe doesn’t remember. We’re intruders, that might be all she knows.”
“Keep your bitchfork handy because we’re nearly done.”
Smoke filled the hallway, smoke that stank of sulfur. Through it, they walked to the bedroom.
She did feel better, Sonya realized. No, not just better. Energized.
“Astrid.” She had to shout over booms of thunder. “We need to see Astrid on her wedding day when she comes here to take a moment to herself. To study herself in the mirror… God, this mirror. I didn’t think—”
“Keep going,” Owen said.
“We need to take what was stolen from her so we can give it back.”
“This is the last time.” Trey kissed her. “We’ll be waiting.”
They stepped through, and stood face-to-face with Astrid Grandville Poole.
In her bridal white, she reared back, eyes wide as she gasped.
“What witchery is this!”
“Astrid. No, don’t run. Owen.”
“Take it easy,” he said, and took her arms.
Terrified, Astrid struck out, shoved. Weakened, Owen tumbled back through the mirror.
“Knocked down by a girl.” He lifted a hand so Trey could pull him up.
But when he tried to go back, the mirror’s glass proved solid.
“Goddamn it, it’s not letting me through. It’s not the same. It’s not letting me go back.”
“She’s alone over there.” Trey pressed a hand to the glass. “She’s alone.”
On the other side, Sonya held up her hands. “Astrid. Look at my eyes. I’m from Collin. I’m Sonya Poole.”
“No, no. What manner of dress is this? You came through the mirror. It’s sorcery!”
“But not my sorcery. You play the piano. You play ‘Barbara Allen’ when you’re sad. You had a party and you played the piano. Collin turned the pages. A woman knitted.”
As she described the scene she’d witnessed, Astrid backed away.
“Go back. Go back where you came from.”
“I will. But I need something first. We don’t have much time. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She gripped Astrid’s left wrist.
