Chapter 22
Jess
The world didn’t so much snap back into place as tilt into it.
One heartbeat I was in the mirror maze, light splintering in a thousand directions, Etan’s voice echoing through the glass.
The next, I was on my knees on the floor of the cupboard, my palms pressed into the cool wood, my ears ringing like I’d been standing too close to an explosion.
The flamingo mirror lay beside me, perfectly still. Too still.
“Jess!” Bianca’s voice was the first thing I locked onto. She was crouched next to me, one hand on my shoulder, the other gripping her salt pouch like she was ready to fling it at the first suspicious shadow. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, but it felt like my head was stuffed with cotton. My mouth was dry, my heartbeat uneven. Every breath tasted faintly metallic, like the air after a lightning strike.
Raven landed on the edge of a shelf, feathers ruffled. “That was too close.”
“You think?” Bianca snapped, but her grip on me tightened in quiet reassurance.
I looked at the mirror again. For a second, just at the edges, the glass seemed to shimmer, not a ripple, but the faintest suggestion of movement. Like something on the other side was still leaning close, watching.
Then it lurched.
A shadow surged forward, resolving into a shape as Nate—the real one—stumbled out of the glass and collapsed to his knees beside me. His face was pale, his breathing ragged, but he was here warm, solid, real.
“Jess…” His voice cracked like it hadn’t been used in days — like it had been scraped raw in that other place. He caught my hands in his, clutching them with a kind of desperate reverence, as if letting go might send him tumbling back into the mirror world. “You found me.”
I wiped at the sweat dripping into my eyes, my breath catching in my throat. “Of course I found you,” I said, the words shaky but certain. “Somebody had to drag you back so you could return my library book.”
That earned me a weak laugh, but his eyes didn’t let me go. They searched my face like he was memorizing every line.
“I’ve liked you for a long time,” he blurted, the words ragged, urgent. “Not the Etan way…just… me. And if you hadn’t—” His breath faltered, and for a heartbeat I thought he might break apart right there. “I thought I’d never get to say it. I thought I’d lose you before I—”
My fingers tightened around his, grounding myself in the heat of his grip, not ready to hear the rest. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” I cut in quickly, because if he kept talking, the rush of relief and the aching truth underneath it would undo me completely.
We leaned in at the same time, the world narrowing to his breath, the ache in my chest, and the faint tremor in his hands.
No sparks, no supernatural push, just a kiss that was warm and human and perfect, which tasted of salt and survival.
The kind that made me believe, for one fragile moment, that maybe we’d actually get to keep this.
Nate was home and Etan was back where he belonged.
When we broke apart, Bianca made a gagging noise. “Can we go home before the squirrel shows up again?”
I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling as I pushed to my feet, pulling Nate up with me, his hand still reluctant to let go. “We need more wards. More mirrors covered. And I’m not leaving the flamingo in my room.”
Bianca adjusted the strap of her bag and snorted. “Good. It’d look better in my place anyway.”
“I’m serious,” I said, my voice sharper than I meant, the echo of that other world prickling under my skin. “If he’s still out there, he’ll try again. Next time, he won’t let me hesitate.”
The room lights hummed overhead, but beneath it, I swore I could hear something else, a slow, steady knock, too far away to be real, too close to forget.
We walked out of the storage room together, Nate’s hand warm and solid in mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles like he was reassuring himself I was real. Bianca and Raven followed close behind.
On the way home through the streets of Hallowell Bay, a blur of motion made me jump, but it was the hot dog squirrel, dragging an entire pretzel twice his size across the sidewalk like he’d just pulled off the heist of the century.
Bianca muttered, “Still less creepy than Etan.”
I didn’t look back. Not until we were almost home.
* * *
By the time we made it back to my house, the sun had started sinking, throwing long gold stripes across the walls. Every one of them caught on a reflective surface, the hallway mirror, the glass on a framed photo, the microwave door and made my skin crawl.
Mom was in the kitchen when we came in, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
The faint smell of dish soap and toast hung in the air, too normal for how the night had gone.
Her eyes flicked from me to Bianca lugging the flamingo mirror wrapped in her hoodie, to Nate trailing behind us like he’d just crawled out of a wind tunnel.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“No,” Bianca said at the same time.
“Yes,” Nate added, which made Mom’s eyebrows climb.
Bianca recovered first. “We, uh, helped Jess with a school project. Involving historical reenactment. And props.”
“Very fragile props,” I added, patting the hoodie.
Mom stared at us for a long moment, then sighed. “Fine. But if that’s a real flamingo under there, it’s not staying in the living room.”
“We’ll keep it upstairs,” I promised. “We’re all crashing here tonight. Too much reenacting. Bianca can barely stand up.”
Mom’s eyes narrowed, but she must’ve decided she didn’t want the details. “Fine. Guest room’s made up. Keep the noise down. And keep the flamingo out of sight.”
“Got it,” I said quickly, steering everyone toward the stairs before she could change her mind.
Bianca followed close behind, carrying the flamingo mirror like it was a live grenade. Nate brought up the rear, his eyes flicking warily to every reflective surface we passed. Raven flew ahead, hopping from shelf to shelf, peering into each mirror as if daring something to try.
“We’ll take shifts, one can watch, two can sleep. Nate, you’re on snack duty.”
We set the mirror in the far corner of my room, still wrapped in the same quilt. Bianca planted herself in front of it like a guard dog. Nate dropped onto the end of my bed, giving a mock salute. “Snack duty. Got it.”
Nate was still holding my hand like I might vanish if he let go. “So, no more magic experiments on me?” he asked, half-smiling.
Heat crept up my neck. “I guess I should probably stop trying to hex you into liking me. Turns out it’s easier just being myself.”
“You think?” he teased.
Bianca snorted from across the room. “Wow, personal growth and a happy ending. My readers are gonna eat this up.”
I groaned. “You’re not still blogging about me.”
She grinned, holding up her phone. “Too late. Working title: The Girl Who Learned Love Isn’t a Spell.”
“Delete it,” I said.
“Never,” she replied. “It’s my most wholesome content yet. Don’t ruin this for me.”
Nate gave my hand a squeeze. “If it’s any consolation, I liked you even without the magic.”
He kissed my temple and disappeared downstairs for snacks.
* * *
Bianca stayed awake with me for the first watch, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw the mirror storm, light and glass tearing around me and felt the way the spell had burned in my chest.
For months, I’d been afraid of what my magic could do. Afraid it would break things, hurt people.
And it had hurt people. But this time, it had brought someone home.
My hands still ached, the last traces of the sigils Raven had inked there fading to pale shadows. I traced them anyway, the ghost of the magic humming under my fingertips, and for the first time I didn’t flinch.
Maybe I could trust this part of myself after all.