Chapter Thirteen
The Woman in the Mirror
Things were going according to plan, Daphne thought, as the two agents returned to the interrogation room. Both Carter and O’Hara were scowling. They approached the table, but neither of them took a seat; instead, they stood on either side of her, leaning against the table.
Carter slammed the Book of Nyx down in front of Daphne and opened it.
“No funny business this time,” the woman said. “Or you’ll get what’s coming to you.”
She leaned in close to Daphne’s ear and whispered, “I stopped my partner from hitting you again earlier. This time, I think I’ll stand and watch.”
Daphne couldn’t resist a grin. “No funny business this time. I’ll read the words out for you, I promise.”
Carter said nothing, but Daphne thought she saw a look of satisfaction cross the agent’s face. To her left, O’Hara looked like he was itching for another opportunity to hit her. Daphne understood the man’s pain, but she wasn’t going to give either of these humans another chance to hurt her, not again.
She gestured at the grimoire. “Think you could bring it closer?”
Both agents hesitated.
“It’s just a book, not a weapon,” Daphne said.
Not unless it’s in the right hands, that is.
Carter pushed the grimoire closer to her, and Daphne began flipping through the book, her heart racing with excitement at the familiar feel of the pages. Surging with anticipation, she scanned the pages, hoping for a spell that could finally unbind her so she could—
“Hey, wait a minute.” It was O’Hara, and the man had a puzzled frown on his face. “Where’s that funny tattoo of yours?”
He pointed. Daphne followed his gaze to her hand and gasped. Where there should have been a bold K emblazoned on her skin, there was nothing. The mark was gone, just…gone. She stared at her hand for the next few seconds, her eyes wide with disbelief. How long had she been unbound?
“I’m free,” she whispered.
“Free?” O’Hara guffawed. “You’re even more stupid than I thought. This is the FBI. You’re about as free as a man in a—”
“ Bleerk vimo ,” she muttered. Free me.
Instantly, the handcuffs dropped from her wrists and hit the table with a clang that reverberated through the room.
It worked! She was free!
“What the—?” O’Hara exclaimed.
“I told you,” Daphne replied evenly. “I’m a witch.”
Both agents reached under their jackets, presumably for their holstered weapons, but Daphne was more than prepared for whatever these people had in mind. She raised one hand, feeling the magical energy surging through her once more.
“ Tlak, ” she said.
Carter and O’Hara were suddenly flung from the spot as though a giant hand had smacked them aside. They slammed into the wall and slid to the floor, their eyes wide with terror and confusion.
“H-how…?” Carter spluttered.
“ Svarta! ” Daphne cried, suspecting what was to come. The agents raised their arms to shield themselves as if expecting an attack; the air merely shimmered around Daphne. She felt her pulse decelerate even more as the protection spell took effect.
At long last, she was free. How it had happened, she wasn’t certain, but it felt good to have access to her magic again. Now, all she needed to do was get out of there and reverse the spell that had split her.
But what would happen then? Would she remain here, fully present on Earth? Or would she end up on Frost Mountain, trapped forever in that cold world?
A part of her knew that it would be up to her. Somehow, that was even more troubling.
She rose to her feet just as an alarm blared outside the room. She flipped through the pages of the grimoire until she found the spell she was searching for. It was the same spell that had brought her into this mess. The reversal process wasn’t much different.
She glanced at the agents who still sat against the wall, their eyes wide with terror.
“I’m really sorry, Suzanne,” she said to Carter.
The woman stared, open-mouthed, back at her.
“ Svassissimo nepo divana ,” Daphne intoned, watching the grimoire dissolve into black smoke.
As she uttered the words, she concentrated on merging both split parts of herself and tried to decide on a world to remain in. She thought about remaining on Earth. It was safer here, at least relatively. The FBI might be after her—heck, the entire government would be out for her blood—but it was nothing a few careful spells couldn’t take care of. She could alter her appearance and relocate to some other part of the world where she could spend the rest of her life.
Then she thought about Frost Mountain, about its endless snow and mountainous slopes. She thought about the dangers that might be lurking. It was a world of infinite size and infinite possibilities, way too unpredictable for anyone, even her. If she returned, she could be killed in minutes. Hadn’t she almost been murdered by a man sworn to make sure that people like her didn’t exist? Somehow, she suspected there would be even worse things than a witch hunter on Frost Mountain.
She went over her options again and then made her choice, concentrating as much of her magical energy as she could.
Immediately, she felt a tugging sensation in her gut. A flicker in the corner of her eye made her turn her head to face the two-way mirror, her breath hitching in her throat as she stared at her reflection.
Only it wasn’t really her reflection. It was just like what had happened in the bathroom on the plane. The person staring back at her wore a sweater and a beanie, her blonde hair covered in flecks of snow. Even fainter than the reflection was a snowy backdrop.
It was Daphne on Frost Mountain.
It was like watching a movie on a big screen; only the reflection remained unmoving, unblinking, even as Daphne drew nearer.
Finally, she thought.
Footsteps thundered in the distance, and suddenly, both doors of the interrogation room burst open, admitting half a dozen armed men in tactical gear. The men leveled their guns at her, their fingers on the triggers. They all exclaimed in shock at the sight of the agents on the floor and the reflection in the mirror.
“Jesus Christ!”
“What the hell happened here?”
“How is she doing that?”
“Freeze!” one of them commanded. “Get down now, or we will shoot!”
Daphne took a step toward the mirror.
“I said,” screamed the man, “get down! Hands behind your head where I can see ’em!”
A smirk tugged at Daphne’s lips as she continued to walk.
“Last chance!”
The man opened fire.
The bullets bounced harmlessly off Daphne’s arm. All she felt was a slight sting. The men gasped in surprise.
“Nice try,” she said, turning to face the man who’d fired, “but you just can’t beat magic. I wouldn’t fire again if I were you. You don’t want your bullets ricocheting off the walls and hitting one of your buddies, do you?”
Then, as he and the other men watched, mouths ajar, she walked right up to the mirror and held out a hand toward the silvery surface. She touched it, and a ripple spread from her fingers as though she had just touched the surface of a pond.
“What in the world…?”
Even Daphne was surprised, but she didn’t let that stop her. She pressed the surface of the mirror, and her fingers went right through. There was a loud, sucking sound, and she felt another tug in her gut as she was pulled into it. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling herself dissolve into its dark depths.
When she opened her eyes, August was staring down at her.