When I realized Ryan wasn’t following me, I looked back only to find him still standing in the same position, staring at the mirror. “It belonged to Elizabeth,” he said in a hollow voice.
I walked back toward him and we stood side by side. I reached over and slipped my hand into his to let him know that I understood why the mirror was so important to him. I had to imagine it was one of a few reminders of the way his life used to be. He watched me with heavy eyes and I smiled as a popping sort of noise suddenly came from the mirror. It felt like slow motion as Ryan and I turned toward it. Then, like the earth separating along a fault line, the glass cracked straight down the middle. I was only slightly aware of my own scream, but Ryan didn’t make a sound. He just stood there, unmoving. My heart pounded through me and the urge to leave the room almost suffocated me. I glanced at Ryan and followed his gaze back to the mirror where the glass continued breaking. It was like watching ice cracking on a frozen lake, the sound just as eerie. It seemed like someone was using an invisible diamond on the glass, outlining where each new crack would begin and end.
“Ryan,” I started as I grabbed his arm, my need to escape the room now my primary concern.
But Ryan shrugged me off and stared at the mirror as it continued to break.
“Ryan, we need to go!” I begged him, focusing entirely on his profile because I couldn’t look at the mirror. I only knew we needed to get away from it. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t good. “Please!”
But he ignored me and continued watching the mirror until every inch of it was broken into small squares, rectangles, and triangles. I pulled on his arm again, but he wouldn’t budge.
“Ryan!” I yelled at him. Suddenly, I felt an incredible blast of air against my face and the sound of glass exploding from the mirror. I felt Ryan’s body on mine as he shielded me and knocked me off my feet, slamming us both into the floor to escape the flying glass. When I hit the ground, the impact knocked the wind right out of me and it took me a few seconds to restore my breathing. Pieces of glass rained down against the wood floors, and I covered my head with my arms to protect myself.
“Peyton!” Ryan’s voice sounded panicked as he rolled me over and stared at me with wide eyes. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
I coughed and forced myself into a sitting position before eyeing the mirror, which was now devoid of glass.
Christopher Raven Adams, the warlock-for-hire, was not what I’d expected. For one, he was much younger than I thought a necromancer would be. He was tallish—maybe six feet or thereabouts—and had a general doughy appearance to him, both in the color of his skin and his musculature. Although I’d guess he was in his early to mid-thirties, his hair was completely gray, even white in some parts. His face possessed a certain warmth to it with large brown eyes. He was dressed, as I supposed befitted a warlock, in black—long pants, large boots, and a long-sleeved, billowy shirt that reminded me of Jerry Seinfeld’s puffy pirate shirt.
“Please come in,” I said, smiling as I opened my front door wider for him.
“Christopher, it’s good to see you again,” Ryan greeted him with a hefty smile at the smaller man. Christopher didn’t say anything to either of us but half smiled at Ryan before sweeping theatrically into my house. That was when I saw the black cape. He looked like a chubby, goth superhero.
Closing the door, I hoped the various shop lights suspended randomly around the house were bright enough to conduct the “testing.” Christopher explained to Ryan that it needed to be done immediately. After the breaking mirror incident at Ryan’s house, Ryan hadn’t seem as concerned about the time and, instead, had immediately phoned Christopher. The warlock-for-hire had instructed us to return to my house where we were to wait for him to test the energies in my house so he could evaluate just what we were up against.
Christopher removed his cape and handed it to Ryan, who took it with a slight smile, folding it over his arm. As Christopher sauntered past me, I noticed the tiny Chihuahua that was clutched underneath his left arm and dressed in a black sweater. I glanced at Ryan, who just looked back at me with a shrug. We both followed Christopher through the foyer, down the hallway, and into the kitchen.
“Mmm-hmm,” Christopher kept saying along the way as he glanced left and right, as if inventorying valuable artwork. But the walls were bare, some of them even without drywall, depending on the progress of the demo work.
When we reached the kitchen, which was still mostly intact, Christopher spun around a few times and leaned against the kitchen counter. He closed his eyes and continued to nod as if someone were talking to him and he wanted to signify he was listening. When he opened his eyes, they narrowly focused on me.
“You’ve got yourself quite a big problem, missy,” he said.
I felt my heart plummet to my toes. “What do you mean?”
“What do I mean? What do I mean?” he answered, tapping his index finger against his mouth and eyeing the ceiling, as if the answer was up there. Then he retrieved his strange little dog from under his arm and held it up to his eyes. “What do I mean, little Esbat?”
I glanced at Ryan again, who simply shrugged at me like this was standard procedure. Christopher faced me again as he rolled Esbat back under his arm. “There are two powerful, strong energies here,” he started. “One seeks to nurture you, and the other is more nefarious.”
“Are they energies from people?” I asked, leaning against the kitchen counter beside Ryan. I was convinced that one of the energies was Drake, and I was worried about him. Since the last encounter I’d had with him, when he’d warned me that this entity was draining his power, I’d come to realize how much Drake meant to me. Even though he only existed in my dreams, he’d become my friend. Yes, it sounded crazy even to me but the more I considered it, the more I couldn’t deny that I cared about Drake—just as much as he cared about me.
“One is,” Christopher answered immediately. “A young man associated with this house.”
“Drake Montague,” I finished for him eagerly. He scowled at me, apparently miffed at my interjection. “Sorry,” I offered, biting my lip while Ryan chuckled and squeezed my upper arm, trying to comfort me.
“The other energy is less easily explained,” Christopher continued, dropping his gaze to the floor as he sighed. “It is dark, no doubt, but as to its nature and evo-lu-tion, I am less certain.”
I was quiet for a few seconds as I wondered if I was allowed to ask a question yet. Still uncertain, I raised my hand slightly like I was back in grade school. Christopher saw me and arched a perturbed brow before he simply nodded. “Are you able to see Drake or talk to him?” I asked, taking a deep breath. I figured it might sound crazy to Ryan, but I was concerned all the same and decided I should just come out with it. “I’m worried about him.”
Christopher nodded as if he understood my concern. “His power is fading and he grows weaker.” He started petting his dog. “The entity has attached itself to him as a parasite attaches itself to a host.”
I felt myself gulp as a lump formed in the back of my throat. The idea that this thing was hurting Drake made me feel sick to my stomach. Even though Drake was just a spirit, he was real to me and the thought of losing him made me suddenly want to cry. “How do we stop it from happening?” I asked. Ryan shifted uncomfortably next to me but didn’t say anything.
Christopher furrowed his brows, no doubt irritated that I couldn’t resist interrupting him. “We do not stop anything from happening.” I shook my head and was about to argue, but Christopher stopped petting his dog and held up his hand in a gesture that I should shut up. I bit my lip as he continued. “This benevolent spirit, Drake, as you call him, has formed an association with you,” he said, eyeing me placidly. “As he has made contact with you, so you shall be the vessel through which he again can taste the richness of life.”