Then it rang again.
Fear pounded a tattoo in my ears as something heavy hit the front door, hard enough to shake it on the hinges. My thoughts went frantic and disjointed. Shelter. No windows. Cell phone. Call for help. I sprinted down the hall to the bathroom, slammed the door behind me, then I leaned against it with all my weight, listening to the pounding. My hands trembled as I dialed the 9, then the 1. As if whatever it was sensed trouble, the noise stopped.
I listened for a full minute. Nothing. Silence.
Exhaling, I turned, started at a glimpse of myself in the mirror, then smiled in relief. My reflection did not smile back.
THE EYE OF A LITTLE GOD
I can’t get help from 911 for this.
Cold suffused the room in a silent swirl, until my breath wafted like fog between me and not-me. Every instinct said I was in mortal danger, but I was afraid something worse lurked outside. Just because the thing had stopped banging, it didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
I backed up a few steps, until I stood near the door, but my mirror image never moved. “What do you want?” I asked.
“Your life.” The voice was warped and strange, a drowning mouth full of water.
I didn’t know if she meant she wanted me dead or to swap places, trapping me on the other side. No matter how you viewed it, I lost. As I tried to control my heartbeat, she lifted slender fingers to trace a pattern on the wrong side of the glass, and the surface rippled, stirred, as if she might conceivably crawl through. That was enough for me. I banged open the bathroom door, slammed it shut behind me, and bolted.
Wait, what’s the smart move? Danger outside. Danger inside. Can’t call 911. If the thing could break the door, wouldn’t it have already done that? My life depended on working out the answer, and nothing had prepared me to solve this particular equation. While they couldn’t kill me, they could hurt me, or drive me to do something stupid in sheer terror. I took one breath, another, forcing myself to be logical when impulse suggested I should run and scream.
There are rules in play. What are they?
That was part of the problem. I didn’t know the regulations, how to avoid breaking them, or how to report a violation. But then, I wasn’t really a player, more of a pawn. In chess, the pieces couldn’t wave from the board and bitch over how they were handled. Actually, that analogy gave me some insight as to my position.
I’m not even a person. I’m a … what did Wedderburn call me? An asset.
Okay, so … what do I know? Thinking it through kept me from panicking. In a lot of lore, monsters had to be invited or permitted to cross your threshold. Therefore, reason dictated that I was safer at home than I would be running around after dark. Plus, there were human maniacs to contend with as well.
Briefly, I considered calling Kian; he’d stay with me until my parents got home. In the end, I decided not to. I preferred not to get dependent on him. My chest ached as I went to my room. As I settled down, I listened for any sign that the creature outside the apartment had come back, but everything sounded still and quiet. There were no noises from the bathroom either. If the mirror-girl had been able to get out, she’d be here by now.
Yet I wasn’t fully at ease; my nerves jangled like an alarm clock. Before starting on my homework, I Googled mirror ghosts and then covered the one in my room with a sheet, just in case they were portals. I read something about witches trapping spirits in mirrors and how ghosts needed a connection with someone living to pass through. So she can get out only if I’m too scared to run? Good to know. Apparently in Serbia, Croatia, and sometimes Bulgaria, they buried the dead with a looking glass, so their spirits couldn’t roam around and haunt the living. I didn’t like the ramifications of what could happen, though, if some maniacal grave robber dug up corpses all over Eastern Europe and smashed those mirrors.
Don’t you have enough to worry about already?
The apartment was quiet now. Apparently staying calm and toughing it out had been the right choice. In junior high, I used to play a lot of video games and sometimes there were puzzles, where one wrong step meant insta-death. That was how I felt right then. It took all my concentration to work through my assignments, solve equations, and answer questions, when school seemed like the least of my worries.
It was almost nine by the time I finished, and as I was about to close my laptop, I was surprised to get an IM from Ryu. A quick what-time-is-it-in-Japan search told me he was probably in school, maybe messing around during I.T. It was hard to send Skype messages in other classes since teachers usually made students shut off their phones. I answered right away, as we hadn’t talked live since I got back, and his e-mails were sporadic.
Me:
hey, what’s up?
Ryu:
nothing, just have a free period and I’m in the computer lab
Me:
cool, how are you?
Ryu:
not bad, school is tough this year
My fingertips hovered over the keyboard. So many things I could say, but eventually, I replied with, on my end too and not just academics. A girl from school died yesterday. I was visiting her at the hospital when it happened.
Ryu:
damn. Are you okay?
Me:
it was pretty rough, but I’m hanging in
I could tell from the pause that he didn’t know what to say. We weren’t as close as Vi and I had become over five weeks of rooming together. So I changed the subject.
Me:
was wondering if you could help me out
Ryu:
not sure what I can do from here, but absolutely
Me:
I have a friend with a tattoo and she won’t tell me what it means. It looks kinda like a Japanese kanji, though
Ryu:
send pic if you have one
I took a snap of my wrist with my phone, then e-mailed it to him.
Ryu:
that’s weird
Me:
what is?
Ryu:
it looks like a kanji but it isn’t. I’ve never seen this symbol before
Me:
huh. Well, thanks anyway
Ryu:
if you want, I can do some checking, see if anyone has seen that
Me:
it’s not that big a deal
I regretted that impulse; this might be dangerous. Given how Wedderburn was threatening Vi, I should’ve known better. I cursed silently and blamed the scary version of me in the mirror. The fight-or-flight hormones numbed my brain, I guess. To cover my worry, I asked Ryu if there were any likely girls this year, and that kept him pinging me for a good ten minutes; as it happened, the answer was yes. I hoped he hooked up with someone cool. I was glad we’d shifted smoothly from summer fling to Internet bros. We chatted a bit more before his free period ended, and I got ready for bed.
My parents came home an hour later; I heard them unlock the door, along with the low murmur of their voices as they tried not to wake me. The normalcy of it all seemed suddenly precious, compared to the rest of my life. They had no idea there were monsters in mirrors or thin men who smelled like death. More to the point, they had no clue I might be responsible for a girl’s death. Tears burned like acid in my throat.