Chapter 12
“The last time you were here you told me you have creepy dreams, with creepy voices and a creepy stone door. And now you’re coming into my shop in classic creepy fashion.” ~Lisa
Lisa locked the front door of Enigma and flipped the sign to Closed, the soft click echoing louder than it should have.
She stood there for a moment longer than necessary, one hand still on the glass, staring out at the street as dusk settled in.
The day had been steady. Profitable. Normal.
Which somehow made the knot in her chest worse, not better.
For some reason, she felt like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
The first shoe had been the dark elf who’d taken up residency in her heart.
The other shoe was no doubt the voices that belonged to whatever was behind the stone door in his dreams. It was just dangling there above her head and had been since he told her about his dreams.
She turned and moved deeper into the shop, switching off lights as she went, her thoughts drifting where they had all afternoon, unhelpful, circular, impossible to ignore.
Rezer. His name was a constant whisper in her mind.
The memory of him in her apartment rose uninvited, sharp and vivid.
The way he’d looked at her when he said he would come back.
Not if. When. The intensity of it had left her rattled in a way she still hadn’t sorted through.
Part of her bristled at the certainty. Another part, one she wasn’t ready to examine too closely, had believed him without question and wanted it.
She reached the counter and gathered her mug, absently rinsing it before setting it on the drying mat. Her phone buzzed on the countertop, screen lighting up with a weather alert, but nothing that mattered. There was still no reply from her daughter or son.
Lisa picked it up, thumb hovering over Elora’s name. Three texts. Two calls. All unanswered.
“That’s not like you,” she muttered.
Elora never stayed quiet this long, not unless she was unconscious or actively setting something on fire.
And Cush—well. The last call she’d gotten from her daughter had been half venting, half worry, and all tension.
Either she and Cush had figured their crap out and were sequestered away making up, or something was actually wrong.
Lisa had reached out to Syndra as well. Then again. Nothing. Her first instinct was to run through the mirror head long into whatever the hell was waiting on the other side, but she’d learned a long time ago that acting before thinking was never a good idea.
She slid the phone into her pocket and headed toward the door that would lead to the back room, irritation sharpening into something closer to unease. The storeroom light was still on. She didn’t remember leaving it that way.
As she walked, she told herself she was being ridiculous.
Enigma attracted “strange” on a good day.
Case in point: Syndra. That was practically part of the lease agreement.
But her steps slowed as she neared, instincts tugging at her attention.
The air changed. Not a chill, no rush of wind, just .
. . stillness. The kind that made her aware of her own breathing.
Lisa stopped a foot from the door. The mirror was back there. It was how Syndra let herself in to annoy her, and how Elora and Oakley visited. She didn’t look at it often. It’s not like she needed reminding it was there. It had a presence all its own, even when not in use.
Her skin prickled. She frowned and took another step forward. “That’s enough,” she said quietly to herself. “You’re tired. You’re worried. That doesn’t mean the universe is about to implode.”
She reached for the doorknob. The hum started then, low, almost imperceptible.
Not a sound exactly, more like vibration traveling through the bones of the building.
The shelves along the hallway wall rattled faintly, glass chiming against glass.
Lisa’s hand froze inches from the handle.
Her pulse kicked hard. She’d felt pressure before when others had used the mirror, but not to this extent and only during hurried entrances or exits, when things were dire.
Usually, crossing from one realm to another was as smooth as parting water.
Irritated with herself for acting like a ninny, she grabbed the knob and shoved the door open.
“Rezer,” she said, not raising her voice.
The name settled into the space like it belonged there.
The hum deepened, then stuttered until it was nearly gone.
Lisa exhaled slowly and released the door, stepping across the threshold.
“If that’s you,” she continued, calm but firm, “there was no need to change your usual approach when entering my store.”
She walked over to the mirror and stared at it as it glowed softly.
But the light wasn’t only its normal golden hue.
There was an edge of grey that hallowed the mirror.
She squared her shoulders as she waited, attempting to prepare herself for someone, or something other than Rezer or Syndra to come through.
But she was unsure of what the heck she would do if it wasn’t either of them.
* * *
The mirror resisted him.
Not the way wards resisted, no snap, no recoil, but like a heavy door being pushed open, reluctant to let him pass. Rezer braced one hand against its surface, palm flat, feeling the vibration ripple up his arm.
The Chamber hadn’t wanted him here. Too bad. He continued to push, slow, steady, firm pressure, moving his body forwards.
The surface bent inward, darkening instead of reflecting, and the pressure surged once, sharp, irritated, before breaking.
Cold slid over his skin as he stepped through, magic snapping tight around him to hold his form together.
He emerged into lamplight and the familiar scent of dried herbs and stone dust.
Enigma.
Rezer drew a breath and immediately wished he hadn’t.
The magic that had been fighting against him was like breathing in fire.
That was new. His own magic was still too close to the surface, ragged from the forest, stretched thin by memory and interference.
He forced it down, compacting it the way he always did when entering human space. When entering her space.
Lisa stood a few feet away from the mirror, shoulders squared, eyes locked on him. She didn’t flinch. Then again, why would she? She was used to Syndra coming in whenever she pleased.
“You look like hell,” she said.
A corner of his mouth twitched. “I missed you, too.”
Her gaze swept him quickly. His boots were muddy, he could feel a tear in his jacket at the shoulder, and he was pretty sure his hair was a little disheveled. She seemed to be cataloging every detail. When it appeared she’d seen enough, her eyes met his. Rezer opened his mouth—
“Don’t,” she said before he could speak. “Don’t tell me you’re fine, or that everything is okay. I’ve felt weirdly off all day. The last time you were here you told me you have creepy dreams, with creepy voices and a creepy stone door. And now you’re coming into my shop in classic creepy fashion.”
He fought the smirk that wanted to grace his lips. “Classic creepy fashion?”
“Don’t try and change the subject,” she said with a raised brow. “What did you almost bring with you?”
Rezer straightened slowly, every movement deliberate, measured. He felt the mirror behind him shudder once and then go still. Creepy indeed.
“It followed me farther than I expected,” he said as he took a step towards her. Now that he was here, in front of her, and the Chamber, or its inhabitants, couldn’t get to her, he wanted to touch her. To feel that she was safe.
That thought detonated in him. One heartbeat, and he wasn’t content to hover protectively. His power lunged. The invisible force wrapped around Lisa, not to hurt, but to hold. To keep.
The moment it touched her, something inside him broke open, fear, relief, hunger, all jammed together until they were indistinguishable.
He saw her react, eyes widening, breath catching, that flash of outrage he’d been expecting.
But she didn’t fight. She stood there, every line of her body strong, unafraid.
His every instinct roared in satisfaction at that.
“Rezer,” she said, voice sharp but low. “What are you doing?”
He couldn’t breathe enough to answer. The Chamber had shown him her face, threatened her, and now she was right here, alive, warm, within reach.
That vision of her as collateral had lodged in his skull like a splinter; the only way to remove it was to prove she existed, solid and unharmed, under his hands.
He moved. One step, then another. The power holding her drew tighter, pulling her toward him until she was close enough for the air between them to blur. Her pulse beat against the magic like a second heartbeat syncing with his.
“I need to touch you,” he managed, voice rough. “To know you’re real, whole, safe.”
Her chin lifted, stubborn even now. “You could just ask.”
“Not this time,” he said, and reached for her.
His hands found her shoulders first, cool fingers against warmth. Lightning-bright sensation shot through him. Every nerve screamed more. She exhaled, a small sound–half startle, half surrender–and his control went to ash.
He dragged her closer, his power wrapping around them both now, indistinguishable from the air they breathed. He didn’t even think about restraint. His mouth found hers, harsh, desperate, and finally, since the moment he woke that morning, he could breathe.