Page 14 of Corrupt Shadows

There’s no way I’m going back in there with that mirror. Not even Gomez will fly near that door. Despite covering the antique with a blanket, I know the demon is waiting for me to get a closer look. I’ve read enough about them to know they use mirrors as portals. Fortunately, this one seems tied to my family’s mirror, which begs the question why?

My phone buzzes as I try to focus on the words, jolting me. I grab it from the side table and see a message from Jay.

Do you want to ride to work together?

Since learning about the guy from the Order, who Rosa said is called Aiden, I’ve felt anxious about going out alone. I hesitate my thumbs over the screen, then spot the little dots in a bubble. A second message pops up.

No strings attached.

I roll my eyes. There are always strings with Jay, but he’s a good guy, and I can’t drive my car in my state.

Thanks… I pause, then delete what I wrote and start a new message. You’re so amazing, Jay. But you’re driving my car. I would go in his, but he gets so pissed about me smoking in there. Maybe we can go to the asylum after my shift, I wonder, but no spark of excitement shoots through me at the thought.

I can’t think of him or anyone but the demon in the mirror. Rosa doesn’t think I’m fucked up, even though she’s a therapist, but she’s wrong. Because instead of focusing on real men, I’m obsessed with a man in a mirror.

Jay messages back.

Fine, but you’re not smoking next to me. See you at 9.30.

Like fuck am I listening to him. It’s my car.

I shake my head and speak my thoughts aloud. “How the fuck is it nine already?”

A wing flaps against my face, and pain shoots down my arm. I reach for Gomez, squeezing my eyes shut as he goes into a flurry of panic, tangling his body in my hair. “Ouch, stop. Fuck, Gomez.” I grab him and slowly detangle him from my strands. “What the hell?”

I cup him in both of my hands. “Why are you trembling?” I ask, softening my tone. Blood seeps from scratches on my shoulder, but I ignore the sting of pain. My heart flutters but quickly slows again. The benzos keeps me grounded, even when he looks at the long, standing mirror next to the fireplace. My eyes glide over the makeup and straightener left on the carpet in front of it, from when I wanted to sit to get ready instead of standing in the restroom.

Tingling crawls along my skin as I stare at the reflection of the room behind us in the mirror. No one is there, but Gomez won’t stop squeaking. His wings flap, and I pop him on the cushions of the sofa, then close my book.

Slowly, I walk over and touch the mirror. There’s nothing there except my reflection. I wipe the smudged eyeliner accumulating in the crease of my lids, then sigh at my bloodshot gaze. I chew on the inside of my lip, then spin the mirror around to face the wall, just in case.

“It’s okay,” I say and turn toward him. “I’ll get you a bowl of milk.”

I freeze midstep when the doorbell rings. The candle on the side table blows out, leaving a pillar of smoke spiraling up and vanilla and burned jasmine permeating the air. My heart hammers when the doorbell rings again, the sound bouncing around the walls.

I breathe in the smoky scent, and Gomez flies from the sofa to the door.

“Shh.” I run to him, trying to grab him before he can make a sound to alert whoever is at my door this late that we’re actually home. I know it hasn’t been long enough to be Jay.

I tiptoe to the peephole, then breathe a sigh of relief.

“It’s me. Not a stalker!” she shouts from outside and presses her eye to the other side of the peephole. I unlock it and pull Gomez back before he can jump onto her head.

I smirk. “That’s what a stalker would say.”

She opens her arms, and I ready myself for her embrace, but she grabs Gomez instead, pulling him against her chest in a tight embrace. “How’s my little night puppy?” she asks in a baby voice that makes me nauseated.

I walk back into the living room. My toes curl against the thick carpet, and I face the fireplace. Rosa eyes the mirror facing the wall, then arches a brow. “Everything okay?”

I nod quickly and force a smile. “It’s great.”

Her brown gaze darts to the pill bottle on the small table. “How many have you taken today?”

“The recommended dose,” I snark back, although it’s a lie. Technically, I’m only supposed to take three milligrams a day, but I’ve had four and a half already. Still, it’s better than the days when my powers are haywire and I’m forced to take six or seven milligrams.

She shakes her head, then looks at me with disbelief. “You better not be drinking then.”

“I’m not.”

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