Chapter Seven
“We could have come over with a housewarming present.”
“Move your elbow, Alban! Some warlock you are.”
“I told you not to use lockpicks!”
“I have to! My magic isn’t like yours, dipstick.”
We’re going to get in so much trouble, gearshift.”
“Hey! Is that a crack about mechamagis?”
“No! You’re going to get us arrested!”
“I am not! She’ll never know.”
“Alain, shut up and step aside. Aperi ianuam!
Burglars! Robbers! Intruders!
On a Monday mid-afternoon. Thank goodness my Agatha is safe at work, but Berry! What if they harm my little four-legged companion?
“Kitty, come!” I hiss, but the kitten races the other way, fearless, ready to claw anything unfamiliar.
Footsteps echo in the empty apartment, hushed voices sounding too loud where they don’t belong.
Why are they here? Did they say warlock? Was that a spell?
I decide to remain hidden. Can you blame me? I have had such terrible luck with magical types, after all.
“I should have come alone. You can’t do anything but turn into a machine.”
“I’m your lookout!”
“Then go and look out! I’m going to do a standard spell of revelation with a dash of intention.”
“Show-off.”
“Go wait by the door!”
The door shuts with a bang, and a tall, dark, and handsome human in a fine suit enters the bedroom, rubbing his palms on his trousers.
Rapid Latin builds and swells, ending in a brutal burst of English as green flames flicker along the man’s hands. “If there are any beings in this home who intend to harm Agatha in any way, show yourself!”
I wait to be yanked into view... But I stay down, kept in icy silver.
Does this mean I don’t intend to harm her?
“Fine. Any beings who will help and protect Agatha, I command you— Argh! What the hell!?”
I smack into the outer wall of my prison so fast that I make an audible splat. Berry rushes in, fur standing out and making her look like a ball of cotton wool instead of a slinky, scrawny feline.
“What are you?” The handsome warlock demands.
“I’m a phantasm, if you want the technical term,” I say, rubbing my nose. “Ow, by the way.”
“You’re haunting Agatha!” he accuses, finger pointing at me, eyes narrowed.
“Listen, Warlock, she brought my mirror home. I just go where it goes. I’ve never hurt the girl, and I don’t intend to, as proved by spell number one.” I cross my arms and hope I don’t look too sulky. It’s not even that I want to hurt Agatha, not anymore. It’s just... what I do.
“I’m sorry about this. She’s been coming in looking really tired and foggy for the past three days, and she mentioned she thought she had a ghost. We had to check it out.”
“You had to check it out? What are you, magical law enforcement?”
Warlock glares. “You’re in Pine Ridge, Mirror Man. Three ley lines intersect here. Warlocks and peaceful paranormal creatures are on high alert all the time since we live on the equivalent of a magical energy buffet that attracts good and evil creatures. Can you leave that mirror?”
“Not unless specifically invited,” I inform him through grit teeth. I try to disappear, but his spell is strong and I stay stuck.
“Okay. Okay, then. Look, I like Agatha. She works for Alain and me, and she’s the best paralegal I’ve ever had. More than a professional interest, she’s super sweet and incredibly talented. She seems happy here, and I get the feeling she wasn’t happy before. Don’t. Mess. With. Her.”
The little beast. He dares to come up and tap on my glass!
I could break through, drag him in, and snap his neck.
But I don’t. Because he employs Agatha, and Agatha is happy, and he must be part of that. “Don’t you mess with her, either. If I hear her come home crying, so help me, wand-waver, I will find a way to visit your establishment and you will wish I hadn’t.”
To my surprise, the warlock smiles and nods. His smile slips into a smirk, and he rubs his chin. “Oh. So it’s like that, is it? She didn’t just buy your mirror, she owns your heart, huh?”
“What? That’s nonsense. I’m merely a resident benevolent spirit,” I fib.
“I could whammy up a little truth spell...”
“I hate you sorcerous types. Always throwing magic around. One of your kind imprisoned me in here for making love to the maiden he deflowered and discarded!”
At least the human has the good grace to look ashamed. “You want out? We can work on it. We have some pretty powerful people in Pine Ridge.”
“Out? Freedom?” I hesitate. “That would mean leaving Agatha.”
“Not necessarily.”
“I would die. I have to return to my mirror. I know this.”
“You have to return to your mirror—or whatever other object you’re attached to. Hey, does Agatha know that you’re—”
My frantic head shaking stops his words. “Please don’t tell her,” I plead. “I mean her no harm, and I cannot bear to think of her throwing me away or shattering the mirror. Please.”
“Take it easy.” He holds up both palms, a sympathetic smile on his face. “The boy has it bad, huh?”
“I am old enough to have sired ten generations of your ancestors, boy.”
“I won’t tell her if you promise me that you will gradually, gently make her aware of the truth of your existence. She’s not closed-minded. I think you might have an easier time than you imagine.”
Lucius was silent. The human didn’t know he had tentacles and a cruel streak cultivated by a millennium alone. “I’ll do my best—and if you’ll keep your mouth shut about my existence, I’ll keep mine closed about your visit.”
“We wanted to look out for her without telling her we thought her house was haunted. This seemed like a good plan—earlier. This is Pine Ridge, after all. There are all kinds of bad things trying to slip in.”
Yes. I just hope this isn't one of them. “Will you please leave now?” I say, studying my nails, voice imperious.
“We’re gone—but we’ll be back if you give Aggie any trouble.”
THEIR WORDS HAUNT ME all day. When Agatha comes home, I expect her to lunge at the mirror and examine it, but she doesn’t. She throws her laundry in a basket and heads down to do it, then comes back and cracks open the big book she’s been reading all weekend.
“Ooh, Berry. This is interesting. Paranormal Pine Ridge: Lore and Legends from Our Corner of the World,” Aggie cries as she heats up her leftovers. “Looks like there are all kinds of legends about this place.” She cranes her neck back, “Lucius, are you in this book?”
Aggie is so absorbed in her reading that she does something I’ve never witnessed. Her phone rings and she swipes up on the screen to answer it, face still buried in the text. “Hello?”
Normally, she reads the words on the screen first. In the first few weeks of her living here, the phone didn’t ring or buzz much at all. Now, it goes off constantly, and she smiles each time she answers.
Not tonight.
“Listen, little girl. Your mother is worried sick. You are coming home this weekend, like it or not.”
Aggie is frozen in place, her face ashen and lips trembling. “Arnie. I’m fine, thanks for checking on me. I’m going to—”
“You haven’t refilled three of your prescriptions this month.”
“What? How do you know? I—”
“I’m one of your doctors, remember?”
“Well, I have a new therapist, and we’re trying to cut back. Drug interactions and limiting the pills that are short-acting, and I— I don’t have to tell you any of this. You’re no longer my doctor. You might be listed on my insurance somehow, but I’ll have that taken care of.”
“Don’t you care about the slippery slope you’re on, Aggie? Everyone always feels good going off their medicine—until they crash and burn.” Arnie’s angry voice is oily now. “You literally almost crashed, didn’t you, sweetheart? Wasn’t that how you were going to end it all?”
Aggie is up and pacing. I want to scream that she needs to just put down the phone. Put it down, put it down, run to my arms. I know it’s too early, too risky, but I don’t care. I begin the arduous task of breaking through the mirror’s surface and into her mortal world.
“Going off of unneeded medication isn’t bad.
I’m not getting off anything I shouldn’t.
Oh, and guess what? My blood test markers are improving each month.
Yeah, no more waiting to get labs every six months because that’s all insurance would cover.
I can pay out of pocket for extra ones if I need to, but guess what?
This doctor actually believes in monthly testing to determine the best regimen and suddenly, mysteriously, my insurance covers it.
It’s almost like the plan I had under you, which was supposed to be so good, was actually so crappy. ”
I pause in the bedroom, hiding in the shadows that I blend into so well. My Aggie is going from white to red, from tremulous to towering.
I don’t want to scare her and let her enemy see her weakness or make her think she’s unwell again.
The damn warlocks were right. If I care for her, I will have to show her the truth—eventually.
“Little girl, you are talking to a doctor!” The voice on the other end of the phone is so loud it seems to roll like thunder in the room and conjures up images of the spitting, slavering sorcerer who imprisoned me.
My Agatha fights back with her words, faster than I used to with my sword.
“I’m talking to a quack! I’ve talked to real doctors since I left home.
I’ve gotten a second opinion, Arnie. I no longer want yours.
Tell Mom I love her and I’m fine.” She ends the call, and the phone soars across the room, landing with a thump in the Victorian-inspired wingback chair.
“Hot damn, that felt good!” she crows, spinning in a mad victory whirl.
It ends as suddenly as it began, her waving arms and smile falling as one, and her sobs pouring out as her shoulders suddenly convulse.
I don’t even know what’s happening. She was so triumphant a moment ago.
Now it’s all crashing down, and all I can do is hide?
She drags herself into the bedroom, walking right past me in my shadowy well, shedding her clothes, digging for sweatpants and a baggy shirt. Berry follows her, mewing.
The laundry, book, and food are forgotten.