The Girl in the Mirror

by Steven Ramirez

  Lou joined him and saw the look of sheer desperation in his friend’s eyes.

  “He’s got my truck,” Joe said. “And he’s taken Sarah.”

  Sarah was floating in murky darkness, the rumbling of a vehicle in her ears. Fighting for consciousness, she managed to open her eyes. When she did, she found herself in the front seat of Joe’s truck, moving down a familiar trail through the forest. But how? She reached for the door handle, and that’s when she realized her hands were bound with thin nylon rope.

  She lifted her head and looked to her left. Michael Peterson, his face grim, was driving. She could see the determined look in his eyes. He drove with purpose through the damp forest toward—Devil’s Bluff?

  “Why are you doing this?” she said.

  “I have to. He-he’s making me.”

  “Who is? Peter?”

  “Shut up. It’ll all be over soon.”

  “Michael, you can stop this. I know about you. You were never meant for this.”

  “He-he helped me. Made me…normal.”

  “How?”

  “I couldn’t be…a normal person. Peter made a deal. He would live in me and I would be healthy. No more nightmares. No more thoughts of…”

  Sarah finally understood. Somehow, Peter had arranged things so that when he died, his soul would possess Michael Peterson. It was as if he were a demon, controlling this poor, sick man. And, in exchange, giving him the semblance of a normal life.

  “Michael, he’s made you a slave. And Hannah? She stayed with you, didn’t she? Pretending to be Gail Cohen. But it was the two of you again. Then, she died.”

  Michael seemed to be driving dangerously fast, frightening Sarah even more.

  “Someone took her from us. But I’ll find them and make them suffer in ways they could never imagine. You have no idea the power I possess.” He said “I.”

  “Peter?”

  His voice was different. Menacing. All of the fear and the stammering were gone, leaving a coldness that chilled Sarah. It was as if she were speaking to the devil himself.

  “Why did you kill Nicole?” she said.

  “She threatened to expose everything.”

  “And your parents?”

  “Turns out they already knew about Hannah and me. Too bad, really. Mom made the best grilled cheeses.” He let out a high-pitched laugh.

  “Peter, how did Nicole get into the mirror?”

  “My, so many questions.”

  “I need to know.”

  He became angry and hit the steering wheel with his fist.

  “I don’t know. She must’ve found her way to it somehow. I’d performed a speculum ritual on the mirror and was using it to commune with forces you could never understand. And they were in my power. He gave me that.”

  “Who?”

  “I’m not one to name-drop, Sarah. Unfortunately, my body was weak. It couldn’t withstand the awesome power I had been given. It was my heart, you see. I was dying.”

  “So, you gave your eyes as a sacrifice?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then, you killed yourself.”

  “Only to be reborn. Just as he had promised me.”

  He peered through the windshield and, leaving the trail, drove purposefully through the trees.

  “There’s one more sacrifice I need to offer to ensure my survival.” He smiled at her wickedly. “Almost there now.”

  Lou had worked fast to bring together a volunteer group to search the woods. Soon, cops with dogs and a few townsfolk were combing the dark woods looking for Sarah, their flashlight beams piercing the thick blackness. Joe had called Carter, and now the two of them made their way through the darkness together. Everyone, it seemed, was calling Sarah’s name. But their voices were met by stillness, broken only by the hooting of an owl and the mournful cries of coyotes.

  “Where do you think he’s taking her?” Joe said to Lou.

  “Hard to say. Devil’s Bluff is that way. Maybe he’s intending to—”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “We’ll find her, Joe.”

  “I wish I’d been with you guys tonight,” Carter said.

  She was crying. Joe took her hand.

  “This is not your fault, Carter. I was with her and she was still taken.”

  Voices continued calling out into the night. Only one word.

  “Sarah!”

  As Sarah stood next to the truck, Michael untied her hands. Immediately, she reached for her medal, but it was gone. As she tried digging in her heels, he dragged her toward the cliffs. She thought she could hear her name on the wind. Her heart fluttered at the thought that Joe, Lou, and possibly others might be close on her trail. Michael glanced back.

  “They can’t help you.”

  “Let me go, Michael. You can still get away.”

  “Why are you talking to him, Sarah? I’m in control.”

  “Hannah is dead. You’ve lost, Peter.”

  He stopped and, grabbing her wrists, forced her to her knees. The look in his eyes was terrifying, and she began to cry.

  “I’m nothing if not loyal. You may have certain gifts, Sarah Greene, but you don’t see the big picture. Your dying is all part of the plan. Not my plan, of course. You know, in a way, it was lucky you found the mirror. Because that’s how he was able to find you. Now, get up.”

  Michael dragged her to the precipice. Looking down into the darkness, she could make out the boulders shining white next to the river. If she fell, she would be crushed. Something occurred to her. Peter was twenty-one when he died. He was a kid in a man’s body.

  “You’re angry,” she said. “I get it. You wanted one life. And they kept forcing you toward another.”

  “A little amateur psychology to lighten the mood?”

  “You’re a child. Acting out because you didn’t get what you want.”

  “Shut up.”

  “No, I won’t. Poor Peter. All he wanted was to screw his sister in peace, and also his pretty cousin. But the big, bad parents said no. And he got mad.”

  “You better stop, bitch.”

  “Or what? Apparently, you’ve already made up your mind to kill me. Let me ask you something. Weren’t you also promised Hannah? Why is she dead?”

  “Someone is working against me.”

  “Oh, I see,” Sarah said. “You mean, someone smarter.”

  Michael took hold of his temples and let out a mournful cry that echoed off the cliffs. Sarah saw her opportunity and ran. But it was dark, and she didn’t notice the jagged rocks jutting up from the ground. She tripped and fell, breaking her fall with her right hand. As she scrambled to her feet, an intense pain shot through her wrist.

  As Michael came for her, she stepped back and slipped over the edge. Before she fell, she managed to grab an exposed tree root with her good hand. Desperately, she tried getting a foothold. She could see Michael coming toward her, his eyes filled with rage.

  “Looks like you saved me the trouble,” he said.

  She felt her hand slipping. “Please help me!”

  “I think it’s best we end this.”

  “No, please.”

  Through her tears, Sarah could see something huge blotting out the moon as it raced toward them. Then, she heard the beating of wings. When the dark mass was close, Sarah knew what it was.

  Ravens.

  There were hundreds of them. And they were coming for Michael. When he saw them, he cried out and tried running. But it was too late. As the birds surrounded him, croaking with fury—the sound of their beating wings deafening—they pecked out his eyes. Covering his head, Michael stumbled back toward the cliff as the birds relentlessly attacked his head and hands. He tumbled backward off the cliff and, shrieking like hell itself, he fell to his death as the birds vanished into the nighttime sky.

  Too frightened to scream for help, Sarah clung to the tree root and prayed. Somewhere far off, she could hear someone shouting.

  “Sarah!”

  “Here,” she said
, struggling to pull herself up.

  She glanced down. There in the moonlight, she could see Michael Peterson’s body sprawled on the rocks like a bloody mannequin. The voices were close now. Two hands reached out toward her, and she recognized Joe and Lou as they grabbed her free arm and pulled her up, the pain causing her to scream.

  Joe examined her wrist and shook his head. “I think it might be broken.”

  “No, it’s a sprain. Joe, are you okay? I didn’t know what happened to you—I was so worried.”

  “Well, I’m wearing a bruise in the shape of a crowbar, but I’ll live.”

  She kissed him deeply as a bright beam shone on them. A Santa Barbara PD helicopter was hovering above. Sarah’s heart was pounding as she realized how close she’d come to dying. As she sat on the ground, Carter dropped to her knees and hugged her friend.

  “Thank God you’re okay.”

  “Ow! Watch the wrist.”

  “Sorry.”

  Lou glanced around them and looked at Sarah. “Where’s Peterson?”

  She barely heard him. “Down there.”

  The men peered over the cliff as others in the search and rescue arrived, the intense beams from their flashlights illuminating the area.

  “What happened?” Lou said.

  “He was trying to kill me. I guess he lost his footing and went over.”

  The cop took a closer look at the cliff. “And I’m guessing he tried taking you with him. What, did he grab your leg?”

  Sarah hesitated. She didn’t want to talk about what had happened. Not yet.

  “That’s right. But I managed to kick him in the face.”

  “Makes sense. Glad we got here in time.”

  Carter noticed something on the ground and crouched to pick it up. It was a black feather. Pocketing it, she approached Sarah.

  “How do you feel?” Carter said.

  “Tired.”

  “Come on, let’s get you up.”

  As Carter helped her friend to her feet, Sarah whispered something in her ear.

  “Peter is dead. But this is far from over.”

  Joe and Carter led Sarah to Joe’s truck. As she made her way toward the vehicle, she had the feeling she was in a dream. Her wrist throbbed as the image of the ravens coming for Michael played in her head on a loop. She didn’t realize Joe had helped her into the passenger side of the cab. When she looked down, she saw something familiar and reached for it with her good hand. It was her St. Michael medal. She held it close to her heart.

  Wiping away her tears, Carter hugged her friend again. “Let’s go home, Sarah.”

  “I can’t. I have one more thing I need to do.”

  Lou entered the cave first, his flashlight playing against the shiny walls. Sarah followed, then Joe and Carter. Carrying her arm in a makeshift sling, Sarah moved ahead and stood at the exact spot she’d seen in her vision. Looking down, she could see the bones, partially dressed in jeans and a yellow crop top.

  “It’s Nicole,” she said. “This is where Peter murdered her.”

  Lou knelt and poked the remains with his flashlight. “With Hannah’s help, right?”

  “Yes. Nicole needed to tell her story to someone. That someone was me. I hope she’s at peace.”

  “And Hannah?” Carter said.

  Sarah lowered her voice—she didn’t want Joe to hear. “Gail Cohen was Hannah all along.”

  “My God.”

  “I think in many ways, she was as much a victim as Nicole. Maybe there’s forgiveness for her, too.”

  Two other cops carefully placed the girl’s remains in a body bag. As they carried her out, a corner of the cave was glowing, and Sarah had to shield her eyes. When her vision adjusted, she could see Nicole standing there, smiling. She was wearing a pretty white dress Sarah remembered from the photo album. Sarah wondered if anyone else had seen the girl. Then, the glow faded, and Nicole was gone.

  “You saw her, right?” Sarah said to Carter.

  “She was so beautiful.”

  Lou stuck his face in between them. “See who?”

  The women exchanged a look. “Nothing,” Sarah said. “Caves give me the creeps. Let’s get out of here.”

  Twenty-Nine

  Sarah, Joe, and Carter sat in the front pew with Owen Daniels and several family friends. The celebrant looked to be around thirty with warm brown eyes and a youthful tousle of wavy brown hair. The altar was beautiful, enclosed in a series of nested arches leading the eye to the spare wooden crucifix hanging in the center. A blue sky painted above gave the impression they were already in paradise. On the left in a little raised alcove stood Mary, hands beckoning, wearing the traditional blue and white. And on the right, Joseph, holding the child Jesus. In the center on the floor stood Nicole’s closed casket.

  The Mass went quickly. A cantor led the congregation in song at the appropriate moments. Sarah didn’t sing. The priest’s homily was short. He didn’t know the deceased and relied on generalities that included various bible verses, including Isaiah, Lamentations, and this from Corinthians:

  We shall not all fall asleep, but we will all be changed, in an instant, in the blink of an eye, at the last trumpet.

  Hearing this, Sarah was reminded that it would be a long time before she was okay again. She’d almost died out there at the hands of a madman, saved by something unbelievable. In fact, whenever she closed her eyes, she could still picture Michael’s horrified face without eyes as he fell to his death.

  When the Mass ended, pallbearers that included Owen and Joe carried the coffin to the hearse waiting outside. A procession of cars would make their way to Mount Calvary Catholic Cemetery, where Nicole would be laid to rest next to her parents.

  Joe drove Sarah and Carter to a cousin’s house in Lawrence. In the front passenger seat, Sarah looked out the window at the passing scenery. Kansas looked so flat. Visually, there didn’t seem to be any relief. She turned around and smiled sadly at Carter, who was drawing something in her journal. She recognized Nicole’s coffin.

  “I thought the service was nice,” the girl said.

  Joe reached over and touched Sarah’s hand. “So, do you think that’s the end of it?”

  “You mean, is it safe for us to list Casa Abrigo?”

  “Well, that’s not what I—”

  “I’m kidding. Sheesh. Yes, I think it’s over. This part, anyway. Nicole has been laid to rest and Peter has, um…”

  “Gone straight to hell?” Carter said.

  Sarah forced a laugh. “Something like that.”

  “What about the mirror?”

  “We’ll burn what’s left of it.”

  When they arrived, the house was filled with friends and relatives. Everyone wore black, which seemed wrong to Sarah. They should be celebrating. After all, Nicole had been freed. She remembered that none of these people knew what had happened to her. For them, this was the story of a family member who had gone missing decades ago and was recently returned to them in a box full of bones.

  When Owen saw the three of them, he walked over and shook hands but lingered when he reached Sarah.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I meant to ask how you broke your arm.”

  “It was my wrist. A stupid accident. I’m sorry it turned out this way, Owen.”

  The old man tried to smile. Without warning, the tears came. He squeezed her hand and did something unexpected. He kissed her cheek. That simple gesture had done it. Sarah cried openly and pressed herself against Owen’s newly cleaned suit jacket.

  “I am so sorry,” she said.

  As she straightened up and wiped her eyes, he smiled at Sarah and Carter, who was also crying.

  “You two managed to save Nicole. You brought her home. And I’ll always be grateful. God bless you both.”

  He excused himself and left to speak to some other guests who wanted to offer their condolences.

  “I never thought we saved anyone,” Sarah said, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

  She peered around t
he room hoping to spot an open bar where she could grab a stiff drink. There must be something. Who ever heard of a dry wake? But there was nothing. People held cups of coffee and soda. More than ever, she wished this were Boston and the family Irish.

  Patricia Martin walked in, carrying a gift bag. She was wearing a beautifully tailored St. John Collection black suit with modest heels. No purse. When she saw Sarah, she smiled and strode over.

  “Dr. Martin. So glad you could make it.”

  The doctor handed the gift bag to Sarah, who peeked inside and found a bottle of Talisker. Sarah’s mouth fell open as she grabbed the neck.

  “Thought you could use this.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Conspiratorially, Sarah led the good doctor toward the kitchen, with Joe and Carter in tow. They found seats at the country kitchen table while Sarah rummaged through the cupboards looking for glasses. Exasperated, she settled for Dora the Explorer juice glasses. She picked Swiper for herself. Before anyone could speak, she had poured drinks for everyone and taken a seat. Closing her eyes, she savored the smoky, peppery goodness and sighed.

  “Thank you,” she said to Dr. Martin, feeling herself relax.

  “No problem. Thanks for inviting me. Sorry about your wrist.”

  “I’ll live. Surgery is scheduled for next week.”

  “Great to see you, Carter,” Dr. Martin said. Then, to Joe, “Ex-husband, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Sarah neglected to mention you were hot.”

  Joe reddened, and the other women almost did spit-takes.

  “Sorry, I tend to say what I think. The real reason I decided to come was to ask about Michael Peterson.”

  “He’s dead,” Joe said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. What happened?”

  It took two slugs of single malt, but Sarah finally broke down and told everyone the real story of what had happened at Devil’s Bluff.

  “It’s hard to believe,” the doctor said. “I mean, there are documented cases of someone exerting a strong influence on a person. You’ve heard of a Svengali, I’m sure. These are individuals who can hold a person as an emotional hostage. But what you seem to be talking about is—”