Chapter 4
Jess
I woke with a low hum in my ears, the kind you feel more than hear. It faded the second I sat up, but the shiver it left behind clung to me all morning.
On the way to school, I told Bianca everything: the kiss, the sparks, the silver-eyed imposter, and Baba Yaga’s one-week deadline. By the end, Bianca’s mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish.
“So, you summoned a magical evil twin boyfriend who’s slowly killing the real Nate?”
“Yes.”
Bianca burst out laughing. “Jess, I swear, every time you try magic on Nate, it goes wrong. Every. Single. Time. Remember the love-charm cinnamon rolls that gave him hiccups for three hours? Or that ‘study motivation’ spell that made him alphabetize his snacks? You’re a one-woman cautionary tale.”
“Not helping,” I muttered.
“Oh, I’m helping. You just don’t know it.” She smirked. “Also, you know that blog you think is run by some anonymous witch who writes about magical dating and other disasters? Yeah. That’s me. Your Nate schemes are my most popular posts. People love them.”
I groaned. “You’ve been live blogging my humiliation?”
“For the good of the magical community,” she said with mock innocence. “Public service, really.”
“So, what do you think about the newest dilemma?”
“That’s… Honestly, it’s kind of impressive. Terrible, but impressive.” She pulled into a parking space at school and turned to me. “Jess, if this mirror guy is even half as dangerous as you’re making him sound, don’t try to do this alone, okay? I’m not magical, but I’m not useless.”
By the time we’d reached the school doors, I had exactly two things on my to-do list:
Find the real Nate.
Avoid the fake Nate.
I was failing at both.
Etan, which Mirror Nate had called himself—because of course he’d just flip his name backwards like a villain in a superhero movie—had settled into Nate’s life like it was his own custom-fitted hoodie and wore it better.
He was leaning against a locker when I walked in, hair perfect, silver glint in his eyes catching the light just enough to look deliberate. A group of girls stood around him, hanging on his every word.
Even Mr. Lotan, our usually cranky math teacher, stopped to smile at something Etan said.
Mr. Beecham strolled by with a stack of science quizzes, and the top sheet fluttered off the pile, then floated back into place like an invisible hand had caught it.
Beecham didn’t even blink, just gave Etan a smile I’d never seen him give anyone in my life.
At first break, half the school had decided Nate’s sudden glow-up was just ‘new year, new me’ energy. The rest figured he’d finally stopped sulking over his parents’ divorce. Only took him, what, three years?
At lunch, the cafeteria line suddenly sped up when Etan joined it. Trays slid smoother down the counter, fries landed perfectly golden instead of their usual limp sadness, and even the mystery meatloaf looked edible.
A girl ahead of him in line laughed at something he said, cheeks flushed, but by the time she reached the register her smile had gone soft and distant, like she’d just woken from a nap she didn’t mean to take.
She blinked hard, as if trying to remember where she was, then shuffled away without her change.
I ducked my head and tried to slink past the table he was sat at with the popular kids.
“Jessica,” he called, his voice warm and smooth as caramel. “Got a second?”
Every head turned toward me. Great. Just what I needed.
I forced a smile. “Busy. Homework. Mysterious rash. Bye.”
He chuckled, and somehow it didn’t sound evil, which was infuriating. “We should talk.”
We should not, I thought, speeding up. My pulse was doing cartwheels. He wasn’t even pretending to be shy like the real Nate. Etan was all confidence, leaning in when he spoke, laughing easily, making people feel like they were the most interesting thing in the room.
Maybe I was imagining it, but every time I glanced at a shiny surface, a trophy case, a phone screen, even the glass cover on a fire extinguisher, the reflection wavered for just a second.
The bell had just rung, and the hallway was a slow-moving river of backpacks and gossip. I kept my head down, pretending to scroll on my phone while weaving toward the art wing. It was the long way to my next class, but blessedly quieter.
The chatter thinned until all I could hear was my own boots on the scuffed linoleum. I rounded the corner toward the old trophy case and stopped.
Etan stepped out from the alcove like he’d been waiting there the whole time.
“Hey, Jess.”
I shifted to pass him, but he moved with me, not blocking, exactly, just there. When I tried the other side, his arm lifted, bracing against the lockers beside my head. Not trapping me, but close enough that I could see the faint silver ring around his pupils.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said. His voice was low, pitched like it was meant for just the two of us.
“Maybe you’re bad at taking hints.”
His mouth curved, not Nate’s shy half-smile, but something practiced and deliberate. “I’m very good at taking hints. Like how you only twist your necklace when you’re nervous, or when you’re trying not to say what you’re really thinking.”
My hand stilled on the crow pendant before I realized I’d been touching it.
The hallway felt smaller, warmer. His scent, clean soap and something sharp underneath, was the same as Nate’s, and made my chest ache in a way I didn’t want to name.
His gaze dipped to my mouth before coming back up. “You want me, Jess. And I want you.”
The words hit harder than they should have, stealing my breath for half a second. I managed a scoff. “Seems like you have enough female attention.”
Over his shoulder, two cheerleaders were lingering by the water fountain, pretending not to watch us while absolutely watching us.
“I don’t want them,” he said without looking away from me. Then he turned his head slightly, giving the cheerleaders a slow, dismissive glance before meeting my eyes again. “You’re the only one.”
For a dangerous, stupid heartbeat, I almost believed him. Almost. His eyes stayed on me a moment too long, like he was pulling at a loose thread I couldn’t see. Heat climbed the back of my neck, and then—
I blinked. My thoughts had thinned, like someone had turned down the volume in my own head. It was just for a second, but when I looked away, it felt like coming up for air.
Etan’s smile didn’t waver.
I told myself I’d imagined it, but the faint ache behind my eyes said otherwise.
I ducked under his arm so fast I clipped my shoulder on the lockers. “Stay out of my head,” I snapped, and didn’t look back until I’d put three turns between us.
Bianca intercepted me halfway to class, grinning like she’d just walked into a rom-com montage. “Okay, so, unpopular opinion, but maybe you should go with it.”
I stopped dead. “Go with it?”
“He’s clearly into you. I’m not saying I approve of mysterious mirror doppelg?ngers, but, like, look at him.”
“Bianca, he’s not Nate. He’s a magical parasite who could replace the real Nate forever.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I know, you already told me this morning,” Bianca said. “Doesn’t make him less distractingly hot.”
“I’m serious, Bee.”
“I hear you. We’ll keep an eye on him.”
The bell rang again before I could respond, and Bianca skipped off to class.
I tried to focus on my art textbook, but every time I glanced up, Etan was already looking at me. He’d smile, slow and deliberate, like he knew I couldn’t look away.
The worst part? He was right.
By last period, whispers about the ‘new Nate’ were everywhere. Someone swore the basketball team’s scoreboard had clicked over to a win mid-practice when he walked by. Someone else claimed their phone battery had jumped from almost dead to full after he touched the table they were sitting at.
Etan just laughed, leaning into the attention like he’d been born for it. Maybe, in a way, he had.
* * *
By the time the last bell rang, I’d survived four classes, two Etan smiles that should’ve been illegal, and one moment in the cafeteria where I swore his reflection winked at me from the juice machine.
I needed answers, which meant I needed Raven.
He flew down as soon as I exited the school’s main doors and we cut through the woods behind school.
Raven perched on my shoulder like a very judgy pirate accessory.
The air smelled of pine and the salt drifting in from the bay, but my head was full of one question: What happens if I can’t get rid of Etan?
When we reached my room, Raven hopped onto my desk and fluffed his wings. “Alright, Mirror Magic 101. Pay attention, or I’ll start charging tuition.”
I sat cross-legged on my bed. “Hit me.”
“The Mirror Realm,” he began, “is a shadow duplicate of our world. Same streets, same buildings, same people, but drained of color, sound, and warmth. Imagine living in a photocopy of your life where nothing tastes, smells, or feels right.”
“Sounds depressing.”
“That’s the point. The things in there, the mirror creatures, crave what we have here. Sunlight. Music. Chocolate cake. Touch. They’ll do anything to keep it once they get a taste.”
A chill slid down my spine. “So, Etan’s just what? Stealing Nate’s life?”
“Not just his life,” Raven said. “His existence. Mirror creatures are tethered to their real counterpart. The longer Etan stays here, the weaker the real Nate gets. Eventually…” He trailed off.
“Eventually what?” I asked, even though I already knew I wasn’t going to like the answer.
Raven’s eyes were steady. “The real Nate fades out. Completely. Gone for good. And that’s if time plays nice,” Raven added.
“Time’s not the same over there, it runs like a scratched record.
It skips forward when you’re not looking, loops a bad moment until you forget you ever had a good one.
You could spend an hour there and come back to find days missing or the other way around. Guess which one’s more common?”
My stomach dropped and I felt sick. Black dots danced behind my eyes, and I was finding it hard to take a full breath. “Okay. That’s bad. Really bad. I can’t lose him, Raven.”
“Understatement of the year. It’s not just about Nate, either. The longer a mirror creature remains outside, the more unstable the veil gets. That’s when other things start slipping through. Things nastier than Etan.”
I groaned, flopping back on my bed. “So, if I don’t send him back soon, I lose Nate forever and unleash a bunch of supernatural horrors on Hallowell Bay. Perfect. No pressure.”
“Oh, there’s pressure,” Raven said. “One week. Baba Yaga wasn’t kidding. If you blow it, the Council will strip your magic and toss you in jail faster than you can say ‘oops.’”
I stared at the ceiling. “Great. My first almost-boyfriend is an existential threat.”
Raven hopped closer, lowering his voice. “Jess, whatever feelings you think you’re catching for him, forget them. He’s not Nate. He’s an echo wearing Nate’s face.”
I didn’t answer, because deep down, I knew he was right.
The problem was echoes shouldn’t have smiles that made your heart do somersaults, or reflections that lingered a second too long after you’d looked away.