Chapter 14
XIV.
“I’m sorry, what?” His face pinches, like he’s struggling not to laugh.
“Look.” I spin so he can see the offending appendage. It flicks up and licks his calf.
He brushes my cape to the side and bends to examine my lower back. “Devica, there’s nothing there.”
I blink rapidly, willing it to disappear. But it’s still in the mirror. Black, with red spikes, slithering like a snake over the ground.
“You can’t see it?” I ask. “It’s right there.”
“There’s nothing, Devica. Just you.” He spins me from the glass and cups my chin, tilting my face to his. “This is one of those tricks you mentioned. Look at me. Focus on my eyes.”
I haven’t looked into those eyes since the night he broke into my room. The indigo hues that once unnerved me now slow my racing heart. As far as human eyes go, his are by far the most inviting. Although most humans I’ve seen aren’t dying to meet my gaze. They’re just dead.
“Okay.” He releases my chin. Disappointment floods me when his eyes break from mine. “Now look behind you. Not at the mirror, but at yourself.”
I follow his instructions and unclench my jaw when nothing inches from beneath my skirt. “Thanks, Nate.”
“You finally calling me Nate is thanks enough.” He surveys the room. “But I obviously spoke too soon. The mirrors can affect us.”
I rub my eyes. “I think it’s a trick of the light. All this flickering is giving me a headache.”
“Yeah, I hate how headaches make me grow tails.” He combs his fingers through his hair, and a lock escapes and settles over his eye. “The good news is, I’m pretty sure I found the way out of here. Follow me.”
Nate plows through the gap between two mirrors on the left before I can stop him.
“Wait!” I reach for him but snap my hand back as the panes of glass he passed through merge into a single image of me. My fingers slip over the mirror as I try to wrench them apart with a grunt. They don’t budge, and I drop my hands and swallow.
“Nate?” My puzzled reflection stares back as his name echoes around me. I’m alone in here. And even though Father will be looking for me, no one would think to check this lot. If they did, the likelihood of them finding me in the maze is low. Even Nate could be gone forever.
“Nate?” I call again, my voice cracking. “Nathan Reynolds? Come out now. This isn’t funny.”
“Devicaaaaaa…” a voice answers. A chill climbs up my spine. That’s not Nate. That’s my voice.
My legs tremble, but I’m unable to move. I clamp my hands over my ears and shut my eyes. It will go away if I ignore it.
“Deeeeeevicaaaaaa…” My hands do nothing to muffle the sound. It’s as though the voice is coming from inside my head.
Goose bumps rise on my flesh, and my knees threaten to give out. I shake my head and call out, “I’m not listening!”
“Devicaaa… Look at me. Look at yourself. Look at what we’re becoming.”
“No.” I speak through clenched teeth. “I know what you’re doing. I’m not falling for it.”
I have to find Nate. The tail went away when he was with me. He’ll make this go away too.
Come on, Devica, move.
Sweat beads the back of my neck as I grit my teeth and raise my foot against whatever force is trying to keep me planted to the floor. One step takes all of my energy, but I press on. A second step. Huzzah. Arms outstretched, I inch forward, crying out as my palms ram into a mirror.
I walk my fingers across the cool glass until I find the edge of the mirror. Maneuvering in the darkness, I make it down another hallway without bumping into anything and release the breath I held the entire way. Okay, I can do this. The voice is already a memory.
“Devicaaaa… Open your eyes. See what we truly are.”
“Screw off,” I bellow. “I’m not listening.”
I cover my ears again, and my forehead slams into a mirror. Staggering backward, I fall onto my butt with a thud.
“Ow. Shit.” I bring my palm to my head and open my eyes to check for blood. Nothing. Small favors. But I peek at my reflection to be sure. There’s something on my forehead all right, but it’s not blood. My veins go cold as ice.
“What the—?” I crawl to the mirror and suck in a breath.
Horns.
Shiny and black, the pointed objects protrude out of my forehead and come to a U-shaped tip above my scalp. It’s a good thing I haven’t eaten much today, or I’d be heaving.
There’s nothing there. This is like the tail. It’s just the mirrors.
I reach up to touch them, and the breath whooshes out of me as my fingers encounter a surface as smooth as marble. I skim one of them and press the pad of my finger into the tip, grimacing as pain pricks my skin. This isn’t like the tail at all. This is real.
There’s no way. I’m not growing horns. Not yet. Not ever. Father promised that, since I wasn’t born with them, I’d never have them.
I drop my hand and scoot back on my butt. The tail from earlier curls around my leg and lashes the top of my foot. It’s as solid as the horns now. It was never a trick. The trick was it vanishing when Nate looked for it.
My breathing picks up, my heart matching its pace.
This isn’t possible. I don’t have a tail. I don’t have horns.
Those are reserved for the demons who fell with Father—the unredeemable ones. Not me.
Panting, I push myself off the floor and stare down my reflection, willing my new accessories to retreat. “Go away. I’m not my father.”
“But you are,” the voice taunts. “Don’t you recognize yourself? Look closer.”
An invisible force propels me to the mirror.
Fingers that no longer belong to me undo the strings of my cloak and let it fall from my shoulders. Wings unfurl behind me. Crimson, like the severed ones above Father’s bed, and large enough I could wrap them around myself twice.
Something dark tugs at the lips of my reflection. Something sinister.
I can’t move.
Whatever’s taken hold of me has me frozen in place. I push against it, but my body doesn’t budge. My eyes won’t close, no matter how I try to force them.
“No wonder you don’t have a mother,” the voice says. “She saw what you really are and wanted nothing to do with you.”
The words, my deepest fears, slice into me sharp as the glass of the mirrors. A tear slips down my cheek, doubling on my own reflection as it trails to my chin. “That’s not me.”
“Look again.”
The mirrors vanish, and I’m standing in the throne room before a crowd of souldiers. There’s a pitchfork in my hand. I frown.
Even Father doesn’t use those. He says it’s too much of a stereotype. “This isn’t real, this isn’t real.” I try again to clamp my eyes shut, but nothing happens.
Instead, I stare as a shadeling is marched toward me, covered in blood. I can barely make out his features under all the red. But when I see the eyes, I know who he is. I’ve spent so much time looking into those eyes already.
Nate.
I struggle against my invisible bindings, but it’s no use. I’m no longer in Lot Eleven. I’m back in Dominus in the throne room, and I can’t control my body.
The souldiers before me scream out words like “murderer” and “traitor.” I glance around, helpless. I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do.
Father occupies the throne behind me. He leans forward, his substantial shadow blocking out most of the light in the room. “Do it, Devica. Claim your inheritance.”
“No,” I whisper, a second tear slipping down my cheek. It’s salty as it passes my lips. “I won’t. I’m not you.”
“You’re my blood.” His voice shakes the floor and rumbles my chest. “This is your destiny, Devica. You can do it. Finish him.”
My father finally believes in me. Now’s my chance to prove him right.
I tighten my grip on the pitchfork. Heat threads between my fingers, and the metal tines of the weapon light like candles.
Father smiles. “That’s it. Look how talented you are, Daughter. You are as much a part of this place as it is of you.”
The pitchfork is hot in my hands, the sting calming my thoughts. He’s right. This is why I was born.
I descend the steps of the throne room and stand in front of Nate.
Not Nate.
Nathan Reynolds.
A shadeling. A sinner. A murderer.
“Devica.” He pleads with me through dripping blood and tears. “Don’t do it.”
The pain in his voice breaks through the trance. My arms shake as I struggle against the desire to plunge the pitchfork into his heart.
Come on, Devica. You’re better than this.
“Do it,” my father urges, “and all of this will be over. You’ll never have to struggle again.”
The weapon is heavy as I raise it over my head. I try to drop it, but it’s like someone else is controlling me. I’m powerless against their strength.
“I’m sorry, Nate,” I whisper, tears blurring him into a collage of red and blue. “This is who I have to be.”
I bring the pitchfork down.
“Devica!”
The throne room splits apart, jagged pieces of glass sailing through the air. My hand is empty, the pitchfork disintegrated.
I’m back in Lot Eleven, glass raining down on my head.
I try to cover myself, but shards slice through my arms and face, stinging as they fall. I drop to my knees and hug myself, my body shivering violently.
Nate races to me, baton in hand. I jump as he brushes glass off my shoulders and touches my cheek. “Devica? Are you okay?”
“I…” I blink and survey the shattered mirrors around me, trying to piece together what happened. My arms ache from struggling against whoever was controlling them. I hug myself and rub my muscles. “I was about to hurt you. I was going to stab you with a pitchfork.”
“It was all in your head,” he says. “See? No pitchfork.” He takes my hands and brushes his thumbs over my palms. The shivers I’d had from fear are replaced by something I don’t recognize, and I pull my arms back.
“Horns?” I ask.
“Are you asking if you’re horny? Cause only you can answer that. If you’re asking if I’m horny, well, that’s a dangerous question to ask a teenage boy.”
I close my eyes and tilt my head back, resting on the cool glass. I’m covered in sweat and my legs still tremble, but they move at my command. “I was just about to skewer you with a pitchfork. Is this really the time?”
“Sorry. Jokes are my coping mechanism when I’m freaking out. Speaking of out, we need to leave.” He offers me a hand, but I swat it away and push myself off the ground.
I grab my cloak from the floor and shake off the glass before wrapping it around my shoulders. “Do you know where we’re going?”
“Yeah. I found the way out. But we have to stay together. Take my hand.”
I hesitate before sighing and taking his outstretched palm. His hands are soft, and I’m painfully aware of how sweaty my own palms are. But if he notices, he doesn’t complain.
He leads me with a confidence I’ve not yet seen in him. Swerving through the mirrors, he only stops once to question the direction, then takes off through the maze without hesitation. My chest heaves as I pant to keep up.
Seriously, who is he?
“Are you saying the mirrors didn’t get to you at all?” I ask between breaths. “They never showed you the worst of yourself?”
“I guess this is as bad as it gets.” Nate shrugs. “I should probably be offended.”
A laugh bubbles up my throat. How is he so self-assured and so self-deprecating at the same time? Perhaps one is covering for the other. I know how that feels.
Lowering my head, I focus on my feet as Nate leads us to the exit and grins triumphantly.
I try to smile back, but it dies on my lips as I catch my reflection before we exit the lot.
The horns and tail are only shadows now, black smoke surrounding my form, but they’re still there.
I follow him out the door, my gaze on the back of his head.
This place revealed me for the monster I am but had no effect on the boy sent here because of the monster he once was.
Suddenly I’m not sure which one of us I should be more afraid of.