into the floor. Something warm and wet flowed down her arm, and numb, she looked down to see blood flowing from the gash in her arm.
It trickled down . . . down . . . down . . . Dread curled inside her as one fat drop plopped onto the floor. Followed by a second. When the third drop fell, there was a noise, a god-awful noise, like the earth was groaning and screaming. Lee licked her lips and stared, frozen with shock as a crack appeared in the floor, right where the blood had fallen. It raced along the floor toward the mirror, upward. The mirror split in two. The wall behind the mirror cracked. Little fissures ran out from the larger crack and, thankfully, just shy of the ceiling, it stopped.
The floor shuddered and shook. She heard crashing echo through the house, and the lights flickered off and on. A huge glass bowl fell from a shelf that had hung over the toilet and the razor-sharp shards of it stung her feet. Logically, Lee knew she needed to get out of the house before it came down around her. Oddly enough, she didn’t want to leave. Couldn’t leave.
She heard—something. That music, a strange, tribal rhythm that pulsed deep inside—calling to her. Her entire body trembled and tears stung her eyes as she stared at the mirror. There was a huge crack in it, one that ran from top to bottom. The left side of the mirror reflected her broken image back at her. But the right side . . .
“Oh, sweet heaven,” she whispered. Running her tongue over suddenly dry lips, she reached up and touched her fingers to the surface that she knew should be there, but couldn’t see.
What she saw was the twisted landscape from some of her work. Dark, brooding, hauntingly beautiful in a disturbing way. Tears stung her eyes, rolled down her face as she pushed her hand against the barrier that had wavered between her world and the other. It resisted. Under her palm, she felt the smooth, slick surface of the mirrored glass.
She looked down at her other hand. The blood wasn’t flowing as heavily now, but the blood trail on her arm was still wet and shiny. Her hand was slick with it. Without knowing why, Lee looked back at the mirror and then pressed her bloodied hand to it.
For a second, nothing happened. Then the mirror shimmered. Softened. Changed. Under her hand, it went pliable. It was like pushing her hand through Jell-O, thick, clinging. She hissed out a breath between her teeth and jerked her hand back. The second she did, that weird, tribal music beating through her system swelled to a crescendo. It threatened to deafen her, echoing in her head like drum-beats.
Demanding. Commanding. With horrified fascination, Lee watched as she pushed against the mirrored glass. It gave under her hand again, and this time she stepped forward, holding her breath as the thick barrier molded to her flesh. For a long moment, the world fell out from under her feet and the breath squeezed out of her lungs. Darkness took her vision. She couldn’t breathe. She opened her mouth to scream or to gasp for air, and nothing happened. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe.
It was the most terrifying feeling of her life.
But more terrifying than that was the bizarre feeling she had done this before.
Just when her lungs couldn’t take it anymore, when they were screaming for air and her head was spinning from the lack of oxygen, the cloying barrier parted around her body and she stepped onto solid ground. Solid, uneven ground that bucked and rolled under her feet.
She wobbled and fell forward. She hissed out a harsh breath as something sharp shredded the thin cloth of her pajama bottoms and cut into her knees. Her hands, one clean, one bloodied, pressed into the earth, and just like that, the shaking stopped. Wind tore at her hair, blowing the wispy ends of it into her eyes as she looked around.
Her legs felt unsteady as she stood, and for one humiliating second, she wondered if she was going to pass out. Slowly, her head stopped
It trickled down . . . down . . . down . . . Dread curled inside her as one fat drop plopped onto the floor. Followed by a second. When the third drop fell, there was a noise, a god-awful noise, like the earth was groaning and screaming. Lee licked her lips and stared, frozen with shock as a crack appeared in the floor, right where the blood had fallen. It raced along the floor toward the mirror, upward. The mirror split in two. The wall behind the mirror cracked. Little fissures ran out from the larger crack and, thankfully, just shy of the ceiling, it stopped.
The floor shuddered and shook. She heard crashing echo through the house, and the lights flickered off and on. A huge glass bowl fell from a shelf that had hung over the toilet and the razor-sharp shards of it stung her feet. Logically, Lee knew she needed to get out of the house before it came down around her. Oddly enough, she didn’t want to leave. Couldn’t leave.
She heard—something. That music, a strange, tribal rhythm that pulsed deep inside—calling to her. Her entire body trembled and tears stung her eyes as she stared at the mirror. There was a huge crack in it, one that ran from top to bottom. The left side of the mirror reflected her broken image back at her. But the right side . . .
“Oh, sweet heaven,” she whispered. Running her tongue over suddenly dry lips, she reached up and touched her fingers to the surface that she knew should be there, but couldn’t see.
What she saw was the twisted landscape from some of her work. Dark, brooding, hauntingly beautiful in a disturbing way. Tears stung her eyes, rolled down her face as she pushed her hand against the barrier that had wavered between her world and the other. It resisted. Under her palm, she felt the smooth, slick surface of the mirrored glass.
She looked down at her other hand. The blood wasn’t flowing as heavily now, but the blood trail on her arm was still wet and shiny. Her hand was slick with it. Without knowing why, Lee looked back at the mirror and then pressed her bloodied hand to it.
For a second, nothing happened. Then the mirror shimmered. Softened. Changed. Under her hand, it went pliable. It was like pushing her hand through Jell-O, thick, clinging. She hissed out a breath between her teeth and jerked her hand back. The second she did, that weird, tribal music beating through her system swelled to a crescendo. It threatened to deafen her, echoing in her head like drum-beats.
Demanding. Commanding. With horrified fascination, Lee watched as she pushed against the mirrored glass. It gave under her hand again, and this time she stepped forward, holding her breath as the thick barrier molded to her flesh. For a long moment, the world fell out from under her feet and the breath squeezed out of her lungs. Darkness took her vision. She couldn’t breathe. She opened her mouth to scream or to gasp for air, and nothing happened. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe.
It was the most terrifying feeling of her life.
But more terrifying than that was the bizarre feeling she had done this before.
Just when her lungs couldn’t take it anymore, when they were screaming for air and her head was spinning from the lack of oxygen, the cloying barrier parted around her body and she stepped onto solid ground. Solid, uneven ground that bucked and rolled under her feet.
She wobbled and fell forward. She hissed out a harsh breath as something sharp shredded the thin cloth of her pajama bottoms and cut into her knees. Her hands, one clean, one bloodied, pressed into the earth, and just like that, the shaking stopped. Wind tore at her hair, blowing the wispy ends of it into her eyes as she looked around.
Her legs felt unsteady as she stood, and for one humiliating second, she wondered if she was going to pass out. Slowly, her head stopped
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