Chapter 10
Jess
The smell of salt and fried dough still clung to my hoodie.
I could still feel him, his chest pressed against mine, solid and warm, each slow breath matching the roll of the waves behind us.
Heat had bled through my jacket, sinking deep, until I couldn’t tell if it was from the night air or from him.
I’d washed my hands twice, but my skin still prickled where his fingers had brushed mine.
I told myself I wouldn’t think about him after the boardwalk. I told myself I wouldn’t remember the way he looked at the ocean, or the way his hand rested on the railing like he belonged here. But the moment I caught my reflection in the shop window, he was there in my head, anyway.
I was halfway through brushing my hair that night when my bedroom mirror moved.
Not shimmered like before. Moved.
The glass rippled, and there he was, Nate. The real Nate. His face was pale, his brown eyes wide, and he was banging on the inside of the glass like a trapped mime in a very bad dream.
I dropped my hairbrush. “Oh, my God.”
He was shouting something, but no sound made it through. I pressed my hand to the mirror; he pressed his to the same spot. The surface was ice cold, and for a second, I thought maybe I could pull him through. But the harder he banged, the weaker he looked, like the effort was draining him.
A shadow moved behind him.
I didn’t need to see the silver glint to know who it was. Etan stepped into view, his expression unreadable. With one smooth motion, he draped an arm across Nate’s shoulders and pulled him back into the darkness.
The mirror went still.
“He should already be weak as paper,” Raven said, eyes sharp. “The only reason he’s still standing is because Etan’s feeding him scraps of the real world. It keeps the anchor stable. If Nate goes, Etan’s thread to this side snaps.”
“What if he changes anchors, will Nate be lost?” I asked, panicking about Etan finding a new anchor.
“Anchors aren’t optional,” Raven said, flipping a tarot card over with his beak like he was bored. “Once you’re tied to someone’s soul, that’s it. No trade-ins, no do-overs.”
“So, he couldn’t just switch to me?”
Raven gave me a look. “He could try. But the moment the original anchor dies, the bond snaps and whatever’s bound gets yanked back to where it came from. If Etan kills Nate, he goes right back into the mirror. Trust me, he does not want to go back there.”
“That’s why he’s not just keeping Nate alive, he’s studying him. Every habit, every friend, every teacher, every little thing that makes people believe he’s Nate. Parents, too. The better he integrates into Nate’s life, the harder it is for anyone to spot the seams.”
“So, he’s what? Playing house?”
“Playing you all,” Raven said. “The longer he pulls it off, the longer he stays here.”
He hopped onto my desk, feathers bristling. “If you want to cut that thread, we need to find a way to shove him back through the veil. That means finding one of the seams the thinnest spots between here and the Mirror Realm.”
“How many are there?” I asked.
“In a place like Hallowell Bay? A handful, maybe more. We find one, we can send him packing.”
I called Bianca. She showed up ten minutes later in pyjama pants and a sparkly hoodie, carrying a pint of rocky-road ice cream.
“This better not be about you hating on Etan trying to flirt with you again—”
“It’s not,” I cut in. “It’s Nate. The real Nate. I saw him in my mirror, and he’s trapped in the Mirror Realm.”
She blinked. “Like, right now?”
“Right now. Etan’s keeping him alive just enough to keep his anchor here stable. Raven says we can get him out if we find one of the veil seams around town and shove Etan back through it.”
Bianca blinked. “Thin magical portals scattered around Hallowell Bay. Of course. Totally normal Tuesday.”
“It’s the only shot we’ve got,” I said. “We’re running out of time.”
Bianca’s smirk faded. “That’s not good.” She set the ice cream down. “Okay. Tell me exactly what you saw.”
Raven flapped down from the curtain rod. “While you two compare horror stories, remember Nate’s life force is draining by the second.”
Bianca pointed her spoon at him. “So, what do we do?”
Raven’s gaze was sharp. “Find a way to banish Etan before Nate fades out completely. To do that we need to find a seam.”
“A what now?” Bianca asked, her face scrunched up in confusion.
“A seam is the thinnest part of the veil,” Raven added. “Think of the veil like fabric, a seam is where it’s worn enough for something to push through.”
I swallowed hard. “Okay. Then we’d better start looking for seams.”
College was supposed to be my big challenge this year, dorm shopping, class schedules, figuring out if I could survive on instant ramen. Instead, my survival plan involved not getting the man I love murdered by my lip gloss mistake.
Bianca grinned. “Operation Save Nate is a go.”
Raven groaned. “This is going to end in fire.”
In the flamingo mirror, the faint crack throbbed like it could hardly wait to burn.
Three days down. Four left. The number sat in my head like a dripping faucet I couldn’t shut off. Every drop was a heartbeat I couldn’t afford to waste.
Before we left, I decided there was no way I was going to hunt magical portals on three hours of sleep and zero caffeine.
“I need coffee,” I announced, heading for the kitchen.
Bianca tilted her head. “Like mortal coffee, or the kind that ends with me dodging shrapnel?”
“I can speed this up,” I said, ignoring Raven’s groan. I aimed at the coffee maker and whispered the incantation under my breath.
The machine gave a promising whirr, shuddered, and then exploded in a spectacular spray of scalding coffee grounds and glitter.
Bianca almost dropped her spoon, laughing as she whipped out her phone and started typing. “Oh, this is definitely going in my blog.”
I wiped glittery sludge off my cheek and glared at her. “Glad my magical screwups are your favorite form of entertainment.”
“They are,” she said without looking up. “And the comments section loves them too.”
Raven hopped onto the counter with a sigh. “It smells like a unicorn died in here.”
Somewhere in the next room, the flamingo mirror pulsed, the faint crack glowing like it was enjoying the show.
I pointed my wand at the mess and muttered a quick cleaning charm. To my surprise, the glitter, coffee, and even the scorch marks vanished in a neat pop. Counters sparkled. Floor gleamed. No evidence.
I straightened, smug. “See? Totally under control.”
“Uh-huh,” Bianca said, still typing. “You’re just lucky I like writing happy endings.”