Beyond the Reflection's Edge

by Bryan Davis

  Kelly’s smile widened into an impish grin. “Yeah, this house is old, but it’s completely renovated. When did you visit the Taj Mahal?”

  “Taj Mahal?” he repeated while closing the keyboard cover. “Uh … my mom had a performance in New Delhi in April.” He squinted. “Why did you bring that up?”

  “You brought it up first.”

  Nathan rose to his feet, sliding the bench back. “I brought it up? What are you talking about?”

  “While you were playing the piano. You said you’re glad you made it to the Taj Mahal.”

  “No, I didn’t. I said I’m a lot better at the violin, but I’d try to play something.”

  Kelly closed one eye. “But after that, you said —”

  “I didn’t say anything after that.”

  As the chandelier’s sparkles passed across her face, she tapped her chin with a finger. “I’ll bet all the stress is getting to you. If you can’t even remember saying something, you really need to get some rest.”

  “But I didn’t say anything, I —”

  “Your room’s this way.” Striding through the adjacent hall at a lively pace, she raised her voice. “C’mon. You’ll get lost in this house if you don’t keep up.”

  He grabbed the mirror and stepped in her direction, then halted, glancing around. “Did you say your parents aren’t here?”

  She shouted from a distant room. “Right. Dad’ll probably get back in about three hours after he gets stuff for your welcome party. I’m making a special dinner tonight.” She leaned out a doorway at the end of the corridor. “Why?”

  “Then we’re alone?” He edged toward the front door and reached for the knob. “I think I’d better wait outside.”

  “Wait!” Kelly hurried back to the foyer, her feet slapping against the tile. “My father told me you’d have a lot of old-fashioned ideas,” she said as she grabbed his hand.

  “Old-fashioned?”

  She pointed at herself, her brown eyes gleaming. “Don’t think of me as a girl. Think of me as your sister.”

  “But I never had a sister.”

  She pulled him toward the bedroom. “And I’ve never had a brother before. You could come in handy.”

  Nathan slid his hand away from Kelly’s but followed close behind as she turned through the doorway. He stopped under the lintel and stared. The room was enormous! With high ceilings and soft beige carpet that seemed to run on endlessly, his new bedroom was even bigger than the piano room! He blinked and looked again. No. The size was an illusion. A huge mirror covered the entire back wall and reflected the room’s interior, exaggerating its spaciousness. Still, it was bigger than most of the rooms he had slept in during his mother’s latest world tour, especially the closet-sized hovel he had shared with his parents while in Warsaw.

  Kelly knelt and began collecting books from the floor. “Sorry about the mess. I was trying to adjust the cabinet shelves, and while I was talking to you on the intercom, the screwdriver slipped, and the whole thing fell over.”

  After setting his mirror on the floor, Nathan lifted the cabinet and pushed it upright. “Don’t worry about it.” He scooped an armload of books and heaved them up to the shelves. Bending down to grab another load, he glanced back at the room’s mirror and caught the image of two teenagers collecting books from the floor.

  Although the room was brightly lit by a tri-domed ceiling fixture and a lamp on a desk near the only window in the room, the reflection darkened. In the image, looming shadows stretched across their heads and backs. The books, the cabinet, and the carpet disappeared, replaced by an endless layer of dead autumn leaves. Lightning flashed, and a breeze blew the leaves into a swirl, enveloping Nathan and Kelly, along with a little girl he didn’t recognize, in a tornadic funnel.

  He looked back at Kelly. There were no strange shadows in the room. No leaves. No storm. No little girl. He spun his head toward the mirror again. Everything was back to normal.

  Kelly grunted as she lifted an unabridged dictionary to the top shelf. “That’s where Dad wants it. ‘Got to keep Webster handy,’ he always says. ‘You never know when you’ll need a paperweight.’”

  Smiling, Nathan set a hefty world atlas next to the dictionary “Or maybe two paperweights.”

  She snatched a dusty rag from a dresser and stuffed it into her jeans pocket, then spread out her hands. “So, what do you think? Pretty cool, huh?”

  “Yeah. It’s nice. Roomy and … well …” He slid his hands into his pockets and shrugged his shoulders, nodding toward the desk. “I like having a desk. I read a lot.”

  She stepped toward a queen-size poster bed and pulled back the comforter. “I think you’d better lie down. You’re as white as a ghost.”

  He let out a sigh and nodded. Those phantom images in the mirror proved she was right. He was so tired he was seeing things.

  She fluffed up the pillow and patted it invitingly. “Take a nap. I’ll wake you up when dinner’s ready.”

  Nathan tried to talk through a long yawn. “Get me up right away if Clara comes back, okay?”

  “I will.” Kelly’s eyes softened as she laid a hand on his shoulder. “It may not be any help or comfort, but my dad says our home is your home. He and your dad were real close a long time ago.”

  He glanced at her hand out of the corner of his eye. Her touch felt warm and good. “It helps. When Clara told me about your family it was the first time I ever heard of you, so I was kind of nervous.”

  “Don’t be. I’m harmless … well, to my friends, anyway. And my dad’s excited. He always wanted a son to play basketball with.” She spread out her arms and posed like a pixie. “But all Mom and Dad could come up with was little old, five-foot-four me.”

  Nathan laughed. Kelly’s comical grin, combined with her grimy cheeks and sparkling eyes, chased away his sorrows, at least for the moment. Having her as a sister promised brighter days ahead.

  Kelly turned a dial on the intercom speaker next to the door. Classical music flowed into the room, a string quartet, but Nathan didn’t recognize the piece. She scooted out on tiptoes, turned off the lights, and closed the door with a quiet click. The draped window on the adjacent wall allowed the sun’s afternoon rays to filter in and wash the room with muted light, creating a host of new shadows on the floor. A fresh blotter covered the center of the desk, bordered by a fancy pen and three pencils on one side and a pencil sharpener on the other. Propped on a back corner, an eight-by-ten frame held a computer-printed message, Welcome, Nathan, in bold blue letters.

  Nathan pressed his lips together. Kelly was really trying to make him feel at home … but it wasn’t home. At least not yet.

  He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, slid his fingers into a slot inside, and withdrew a photo: his mom and dad, each with an elbow leaning against a snowman, a funny pose they had struck during a hike on Mount Shasta in California. The vibrant smile on Mom’s face both soothed and stabbed him at the same time. Dad’s silly grin made him laugh inside. A tear pushed into each eye. He pinched the bridge of his nose, briefly closed his eyes, and laid the wallet and photo gently on the night table at his side.

  Lowering his head to the pillow, he stared at the huge mirror through the space between the bedposts. In the deathly still air, the music seemed to grow in volume. A new piece began, Mozart’s Requiem Mass in D Minor — lovely, yet haunting.

  The window at his side hovered in the mirror’s image as if suspended in thick liquid, gently swimming in a tight circle. As the room grew darker, his mind slumbered in a dreamlike haze. Mozart’s Latin phrases streamed in. Nathan instinctively translated the familiar lyrics, imagining the words and notes on a musical staff floating above his head.

  Grant them eternal rest, Lord,

  And may everlasting light shine on them.

  You are praised, God, in Zion,

  And prayer will be returned to you in Jerusalem.

  Hear my speech,

  To you all flesh will come.

  Grant th
em eternal rest, Lord,

  And let everlasting light shine on them.

  Darkness pushed deeper into the room. Lightning flashed. A soft rumbling sound passed over the ceiling, while raindrops pecked at the glass.

  There will be great trembling

  When the judge comes

  To closely examine all!

  The trumpet will send its wondrous sound

  Throughout the region’s tombs

  He will gather all before the throne.

  The hypnotic window, a soft light in the midst of deep grays and purples, stretched in all directions. As it filled the mirror, Nathan tried to focus on the image. Was this a dream?

  Death and nature will be astounded,

  When all creation rises again,

  To answer to the judgment.

  A written book will be brought forth,

  In which all will be contained,

  By which the world will be judged.

  The drapes covering the reflected window slowly parted. Bright light seeped through, illuminating a hand as it emerged through a gap at the window’s base. As the sash lifted, long, pointed fingernails bit into the varnish. The frame groaned, wood dragging on wood, and the gap expanded inch by inch. Soon, a face appeared, the thin, sallow face that had so recently burned an image in his mind with its hungry greedy eyes.

  Mictar was trying to enter.

  King of tremendous majesty,

  Who freely saves those worthy ones,

  Save me, spring of mercy.

  Remember, kind Jesus,

  Because I am the cause of your suffering;

  Lest you should forsake me on that day.

  Nathan fought against sleep. His mind screamed at his body to wake up. This was too real. That mirror had somehow pierced his dream, warning him of an approaching murderer. He gritted his teeth and wagged his head on the pillow, but he couldn’t seem to awaken.

  The specter climbed into the room, showing his thin frame in full profile. Nathan strained his eyes to find Mictar’s white ponytail, but it was no longer there. The ghostly creature turned toward him, but his face showed no bruise at all, no sign that a violin had crashed across his cheek. He approached the reflection’s foreground, his expression void. Nathan cringed.

  My prayers are unworthy,

  But, you, good Lord, are kind,

  Lest I should burn in eternal fire.

  His eyes glowing red, the creature pointed straight at Nathan, as if he could see him through the barrier. “Beware, son of Solomon, lest you use your gifts unwisely and thereby come to calamity. If you allow grief to sway your purpose, you will perish. If you pursue vengeance, your light will drain away. If you fear, you will fail, for the power of Quattro is not to be trifled with.”

  The scene near the back of the reflection transformed. The room’s surroundings faded away, replaced by the two coffins, still carrying his parents’ bodies. Mictar reached into a coffin and withdrew a small sphere. As Nathan focused on the object, its identity clarified. An eyeball!

  Spare us by your mercy, God,

  Gentle Lord Jesus,

  Grant them eternal rest. Amen.

  Mictar held the orb close to the front of the mirror. His voice lowered to a whisper, yet it still seemed to ring in Nathan’s ears. “Learn the mystery of the light within. Only then will you vanquish the darkness and defeat your enemies.”

  Gasping for breath, Nathan sat up in bed and shouted, “You murderer! How dare you touch their bodies! Give them back to me!”

  The coffins vanished. Mictar faded away. The mirror image warped and then clarified, showing Nathan’s room and a dim image of himself sitting up in bed. Lightning flashed again, illuminating his tear-streaked face, gaunt and pale.

  He shivered hard. Pulling his blanket around his body, he flopped back down in bed. It had to be a dream, the worst nightmare in history. As he turned to the side and curled into a fetal position, cold fingers seemed to stroke his skin, sending new shivers that shook his body so hard, the bed shook with him.

  Closing his eyes, he bit his blanket. The horrible images impaled his brain — Mictar, the coffins, the eyeball. Would they ever go away? Would Mom and Dad ever find peace? Would he ever see them again?

  Let eternal light shine on them, Lord,

  With your saints in eternity,

  Because you are merciful.

  Grant them eternal rest, Lord,

  And let everlasting light shine on them,

  With your saints in eternity,

  Because you are merciful.

  The cold fingers lifted. His shivers settled. Yet, a new spasm began to rock his body. Nathan wept. Biting his blanket even harder, he sobbed on and on until darkness finally overtook his mind.

  3

  THE MIRROR PUZZLE

  “Wake up, Nathan.” Radiance poured into the room. “It’s dinner time!”

  Nathan shot up in bed, blinking at the hallway light framing Kelly’s dim shadow.

  “Oh!” She flipped on the bedroom light. “Sorry to startle you.”

  He jumped out of bed, raced to the window, and tried to open it. Locked. Leaning close, he peered at the varnished sill. No scratches. Windblown raindrops pelted the glass, painting tear streaks on his ghostly image.

  “What’s wrong?” Kelly asked from the door.

  He wiped his hand across his brow. “I don’t get it.”

  “A nightmare?” She walked in. Now wearing clean blue jeans and a long-sleeved pink tunic, she set her hands on her hips and gazed at the window. “It’s no wonder. Add a thunderstorm to all you’ve gone through and that’d give anyone nightmares.”

  Nathan stepped up to the mirror. “I could’ve sworn it was real.” He stared at his reflection. Not only was his hair standing on end, his pupils had shrunk to the size of BBs, barely visible in the center of his blue irises. “There’s something strange about this mirror.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He touched a vertical line on the glassy surface, leaving a fingerprint over the image of his nose. “Is it divided into sections?”

  “Yep. Three hundred and ninety-nine, to be exact.” She wiped the print clean with the cuff of her sleeve. “Dad saw it for sale at a castle in Scotland and shipped it home. Some creepy museum curator convinced him that it could reflect what people were thinking.” She pointed at the lower left corner. “One piece is missing. My dad said that your dad took it years ago for some sort of experiment. He never gave it back.”

  Nathan bent over and lifted his mirror, slowly unwrapping it as he watched Kelly’s image in the reflective matrix. “I think I know where the piece is.” Dropping the towel, he knelt at the corner space and slid his piece into the square vacancy. It fit perfectly.

  A sudden burst of radiance erupted from the corner and spread across the entire mirror. Seconds later, it evaporated, like luminescent steam dispersing in the room.

  Kelly slapped her hand on her chest. “Wow! What was that?”

  “Too weird.” He pulled on the square, but it held fast. “It’s stuck.”

  Stooping low, she touched the reflective mosaic’s newest piece. “The glue on the wall couldn’t be wet after all these years.”

  Nathan pulled again, grunting. Something was making it hang on.

  A loud voice pounded Nathan’s eardrums. “Welcome!” A burly hand grasped his upper arm and pulled him to his feet. “I’m Tony Clark.”

  Nathan angled his head upward. A bug-eyed man with a boot-camp crew cut stared down at him from what seemed like two feet above his head. “Hi, Mr. Clark.”

  He spread out his huge palm and grabbed Nathan’s hand, his long fingers wrapping around with a friendly but painful grasp. “Call me Tony.” Nathan squeezed him back with his violin-strengthened grip, more to relieve the pain than to show off.

  “Now that’s a manly handshake!” Tony said, glancing at Kelly. She sighed and folded her hands behind her back.

  Tony nodded toward the hall. “C’mon out to the dining room. Kelly
really cooked up a storm.”

  She rolled her eyes and whispered to Nathan, a look of disgust crossing her face. “A storm. Get it?”

  As the three walked down the hall, Tony laughed. “A storm. Get it? It’s raining outside.” His deep voice resonated through the corridor as his long legs swept hurriedly past the grand piano. “Do you like Chinese?”

  Nathan quickened his pace to keep up. “Sure.”

  “Too bad,” Kelly whispered, following close behind. “We’re having Italian.”

  Tony stopped at the dining room and extended his arm toward the table. “Too bad. We’re having Italian.”

  The aroma of garlic-soaked tomato sauce flooded Nathan’s senses. A huge rectangular dish of lasagna graced the middle of the table, and a salad marked each of four place settings, knives and forks aligned perfectly over folded napkins and a pristine white tablecloth. With five high-backed chairs on each side and one on each end, the table seemed more suited for a football team than for an only child and her parents.

  Kelly touched his shoulder and whispered. “Daddy kind of rushed you in here. He’s not exactly Mr. Sensitive. If you don’t feel up to eating with us, I’ll make an excuse for you.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll be all right.” He nodded at each place setting, silently counting. “Four?”

  “Clara called while you were sleeping. She’ll be here any minute.”

  Tony sat down at the head of the table. “Sol and I called her ‘Medusa’ back in Poly-Sci class at Iowa. Her class was so hard we turned to stone. It’ll be fun to see what she’s like now.”

  Nathan pulled out a chair and motioned for Kelly to sit. She smiled, her gaze locked on her dad’s face as she slid into the chair and pulled it up to the table. Nathan seated himself on the opposite side.