Mirror Image: Shattered Mirror Prophecies Book 1

by Bailey James

  Holy crow! That probably is what happened. Why didn’t I think of that?

  That doesn’t explain how he knew your name, my more rational side says. Or why you’re seeing him in your mirror.

  Right, I think back. But that could be my brain compensating for what it lost. It’s making up things about Jackson since I couldn’t thank him for saving my life.

  My more rational side has nothing to say to that, and so I go back to trying to focus on the conversation happening around me. Ty has steered it away from my accident and, for that, I’m grateful. I don’t want to talk about it. I want to forget the whole stupid thing and go on with my life as usual.

  Chapter Six

  I stand in the suite’s bathroom, staring at my reflection in the tall mirror on the wall. The one that allows me to see myself from head to toe. I haven’t seen Jackson for almost two days. Of course, I’ve also refused to look into any mirrored surface. I’ve seen Supernatural; Jackson might as well be Bloody Mary for all the trouble he’s causing me.

  Not seeing anything other than my reflection, I sigh in relief.

  It’s fine. See? I just needed to get away from the house, as Rose said.

  I smile at my reflection and touch the mirror. The minute I do, the glass turns warm and bouncy, and Jackson stares back at me.

  He smiles. “There you are. I missed you, Lily.”

  Oh, God! This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. He isn’t real.

  “You’re not real,” I finally manage to squeak out, my voice barely above a whisper.

  He frowns. “Of course I am. Just as real as you are.” He touches the mirror, and his hand slides through like a knife through butter. “Take my hand. I’ll show you.”

  I back away, my heart thudding painfully against my ribs. “No. I can’t. I won’t. This isn’t real.”

  His hand reaches further. “Lily, I’m real. You knew it the minute I kissed you by the lake. Take my hand. Please. There is much to be done.” His voice turns urgent.

  “What needs to be done?”

  I ignore his hand. My voice sounds funny as it echoes back to me, almost tinny, as if I’m speaking into a soda can. Panic beats its wings inside my mind because I’m sure that whatever force is allowing Jackson to slip through the glass also created a barrier around the room, preventing anyone from hearing me.

  I just have to get to the door. The minute I get to the door, I’ll scream for Tyler.

  “There’s going to be a war, Lily. Our worlds will be destroyed if we don’t stop it. We need you to help prevent it. I need you. Please, take my hand. I’ll help you through.” His tone is panicky. He glances over his shoulder. “We have to hurry. They’re coming for you. Take my hand.”

  “I don’t believe you. You don’t exist,” I repeat.

  He only reaches further, his arm showing up to his bicep. “Lily, there isn’t time to argue. I need your help now. If not, our worlds will be destroyed.”

  I shake my head but find myself taking a step closer. “I can’t.”

  “You have to. It’s okay. I’ll be here for you. Always.” He smiles his crooked grin, showing the dimple on the side of his mouth.

  Some of my earlier panic dissipates, and against my better judgment, I take another step forward. Then another. I reach for Jackson. His sizable hand encompasses mine and squeezes. Warmth zips up my arm, warming my entire body. Suddenly, all my panic is gone. In its place is a feeling of rightness.

  “Take another step, Lily. I’ll help you through,” he says, his other hand reaching for me.

  “I can’t,” I repeat. “If I do, I won’t come back.” Of this, I’m sure. I don’t know how or why I know this, but I’m sure it’s absolutely the truth.

  “Why would you want to? I love you, Lily. I’ll be with you always. You only need to step through the glass.”

  For some reason, his declaration doesn’t surprise me. I already know it. Just as I know I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone. He’s right. Why would I want to come back? He needs me, and I need him.

  I nod and take a deep breath as I step through the gooey glass. There’s a brief second where this shiny, silvery shimmer surrounds me before I finally step through all the way. The second I am, though, another hand grabs me, ripping me from Jackson. A hand with paper-thin skin; it’s cold as ice; the veins crisscrossed over it like blue spider webs.

  “Ah, there you are, my dear. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  I wake up, gasping, a scream trapped in my throat. My body trembles as I bolt upright, kicking off the covers. I stumble to the balcony to get fresh air and end up leaning on the railing, dragging hot, humid air into my lungs, smelling the salt from the sea to get rid of the claustrophobic feeling suffocating me.

  When it finally releases me, I have no idea what to do. I look out over the black water. I’m going insane. The dreams are getting worse.

  It’s bad enough when it’s just Jackson, but he isn’t terrifying beyond all reason. Now I have to worry about the scary old guy with creepy skin?

  I shudder.

  At that moment, arms wind around me from behind, and I tense, opening my mouth to scream as I wait for another terrifying hallucination.

  But it isn’t a hallucination. It’s Ty. I know his touch and scent like I know my own eye color.

  “What’s wrong, beautiful?” Tyler asks into my ear, sending delightful shivers throughout me.

  “Nothing. Nightmare.” I relax into him.

  “About the accident?” He hugs me tighter.

  I hesitate. If I tell him what it’s really about, I’ll have to explain the entire story, not just the highlights; then again, he already knows a lot.

  Hands on my hips, he turns me to face him. His gaze laser-beams into mine. “Tell me, beautiful.”

  Maybe it would help to tell him everything. He’s the best choice; he seemed okay with what I’d said about my rescuer earlier, and he’d even come up with a great idea about Jackson maybe being a passenger. Besides, he loves me; he’s always helped me with all my silly little problems.

  I step forward, wrapping my arms around him and hugging him, pressing my face to his chest and just breathing in his scent. “I’ve been having these weird dreams since the accident,” I tell him, my voice muffled.

  He grasps my shoulders and pushes me back to peer into my eyes before grabbing my hand and tugging me to the loungers on the balcony. When he sits, he pulls me down, so I sit cross-legged in front of him.

  “What kind of weird dreams?”

  I take a deep breath. All or nothing.

  “That I’m seeing my rescuer in mirrors and he’s telling me that he’s from another dimension.” I blurt it out like the words will burn my tongue if they stay there for too long.

  He blinks. The waves crashing is the only thing that breaks the silence before he laughs.

  “What?” he asks.

  I can tell he thinks I’m joking.

  I sigh. “I’m seeing the boy who rescued me in mirrors,” I repeated.

  “And he’s from another dimension?” His laughter dies as he stares at me. “You aren’t kidding, are you?”

  I shake my head, my eyes burning. “I know. It’s making me sound crazy.” I try pushing myself up, but my legs get tangled in the plastic slats.

  He reaches out to place his hands on my shoulders again, pushing me back down. “You’re not crazy. You went through a traumatic experience. Your mind is just…sort of wonky right now. Don’t worry about it, okay?” When I don’t say anything, he leans over and plucks me up, pulling me into his chest. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

  I tell him the rest—minus the declarations of love. I’m not dumb. I finish telling him about how it’s gotten to the point where I don’t know if I’m dreaming or if I’m awake. That I’m terrified I’m losing my mind. Or that I have a huge brain bleed
, but I’m scared of finding out.

  He listens the whole time without interrupting, which is kind of a miracle in and of itself. Interrupting me is usually his thing. It’s the one “quirk” of his that truly pisses me off, but everyone has something, right? And he’s gotten a lot better about it since we started dating, so I’m super grateful that he isn’t doing it now.

  When I finish, he hugs me again. “It’s not real, beautiful. There’s no such thing as other dimensions. It’s not possible. And if there were, I doubt it would happen through your mirror.” He’s trying to make me feel better by making a joke out of it—as per usual—but it’s not helping, and I’m not having it.

  “I hid the mirror under my bed.”

  He sighs. “I know. Why?”

  “So I didn’t have to see him.”

  He gives me a sad look and then kisses the top of my head. “He’s not real, Lil.”

  “It just feels so real.” I run my fingers through my hair and tug. “I feel like I’m going crazy.”

  “I’ll bet,” he mutters, his lips still pressed against my head. “But you’re not. I’ve heard of stuff like this happening. One woman was in a coma for five years, but she didn’t know it until she woke up. She’d lived the whole time in her dreams, even dreaming she had married and had kids.”

  “Oh, God.” My breath hitches, and my whole body trembles. What if all of this is a dream? What if I am in a coma and sleeping in some awful hospital bed while my mom and dad take turns watching over me?

  “Fuck,” he mutters, pulling me even tighter into him. “I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have said that.” He kisses me quickly, before continuing, “I should have driven you home that night. Or, better yet,” he says with a wink, in an obvious ploy to cheer me up, “insisted you stay.”

  I don’t smile like he wants me to, but I twist my body so I can place my hands on either side of his face. “It’s not your fault, Ty.” I may not know much of what’s happening, but I do know that. “You didn’t know this would happen. No one did. No one could. That’s why they’re called accidents. Besides, my parents were the ones who wanted me to come home.”

  “I still feel responsible. Maybe if you hadn’t been upset because we were fighting, you would have been able to react faster. Or, better yet, you wouldn’t have left that early.” He kisses my mouth to stop my protest. I probably shouldn’t, but I kind of love when he does that. “Let’s try to go back to sleep. It’s late, and you’ve had a hell of a few days. Maybe all you need is some decent rest so your brain will heal.”

  “I don’t want to sleep. I’m afraid to,” I whisper.

  His expression saddens, and he pulls me close again, pressing on my head, so I rest it on his shoulder. “I’m right here. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

  He stands, picking me up with him and carrying me bridal style back to the bed. Even when he covers us with the thin silk sheet, he holds onto me, being the big spoon to my little.

  “Normally, I’d try to find some more fun ways to distract you.” I can practically hear the eyebrow wiggle in his voice. “But I’m trying not to be so pushy, and you need rest. Try to sleep, okay? I’ll hold onto you all night.”

  His words are of no comfort to me. I know he’d never let anything happen to me in real life, but he can’t protect me from my dreams. Confident I’ll never sleep, I stare at the ceiling, but the funny thing about sleep is, it doesn’t care what you want. It comes whenever the hell it feels like it, and it isn’t long before my eyes droop, and I fall into a deep, blissfully dreamless sleep.

  I wake in the morning with an arm draped over my hip and breathing in my ear. It’s such a strange development that it takes me a minute to figure out where I am and who I’m with. When I move, the arm moves, wrapping around my waist like a boa constrictor and pulling me closer to the hard, rigid body behind me.

  “No, it’s too early,” Tyler says into my ear, his voice husky from sleep, but that doesn’t stop him from rubbing his morning wood all over my ass.

  I smile, chuckling, and wiggle closer, enjoying the weight of his arm, among other things. “You’re probably right.”

  My eyes cross when he nuzzles at my neck. I groan loudly when a knocking interrupts whatever was going to happen next.

  “What?” Ty barks out, his voice is as annoyed as I am.

  Leah pokes her head in with a vast, sunshiny smile. “Good morning!” she trills, and I immediately wonder if Ty knows where to bury a body.

  “Ugh, go away!” I hide my head under my pillow. It’s so unfair. How is it that she’s always cheery in the morning? I can barely drag myself out of bed on a good day, and here she is practically dancing around my room. Someone seriously needs to switch that girl to decaf.

  “Oh, come on, Lily. It’s not that early. It’s almost seven. Come on. Get up. It’s time to start another day.”

  “Killjoy,” I mutter, but drag myself out of bed, despite Ty’s grabby hands and protests. Leah won’t leave me alone until I do. She grins and takes off out the door.

  “Forget her,” Ty says, lifting the covers in an offer to climb back in.

  It has the unintended consequence of also offering me a view of his impressive chest. I don’t even have to think about it too hard, and I’m jumping back into the bed and Ty’s arms. His lips find mine, his hands gripping my hips tight.

  Pounding at the door startles us apart again. “Stop making out and get in the shower, woman,” Leah yells through the door, cackling like a hyena.

  “I’m going to strangle that girl,” Ty mutters, but releases me when I giggle and wiggle to get out.

  I quickly rummage through my bag for clean clothes. At the bathroom door, I pause with my hand on the doorknob. I can’t make myself go in.

  I don’t really need a shower, I think as I take a step back.

  It’s not like I can, anyway. Not with my arm in a cast. I bump into someone and twist my neck to see Ty standing behind me, a knowing look on his face.

  “You okay?”

  “A little nervous,” I admit.

  He places his hands on my shoulders, ducking to peer into my eyes. “It’ll be okay. It’s just a dream. Remember? You’ll be fine.”

  I swallow when a lump forms in my throat and panicked bats beat their wings at the thought of entering that room.

  “I can’t,” I whisper.

  His eyes soften, but his tone is even. “Yes, you can. It’s just a bathroom, and last night was just a dream.”

  I shake my head frantically. “No.”

  He takes my hand. “Come on. I’ll go in with you.”

  I glance at the door, and a tremor shoots through my body as I think about going in there by myself. “All right, you can come, but no peeking,” I tease, trying to shake off the panic.

  He smiles, takes my hips to turn me around, and then frog marches me into the bathroom. “Well, that’s no fun,” he murmurs right into my ear, giving the trembles another reason to be there. “What do I get for sitting around in a bathroom while a hot girl takes a shower and not looking?”

  I purse my lips and tap my finger to them. “Hmm, would a kiss on the cheek suffice?”

  He scoffs. “The cheek?”

  I spin around to face him, and then it’s my turn to whisper in his ear. “Maybe, if you’re a good boy, I could be persuaded into repeating what we did yesterday.”

  His eyes darken as his pupils dilate. He swallows. “A kiss on the cheek will be perfect,” he says, his voice deep and husky.

  With a grin, I lean over, and just as I’m about to kiss his cheek, he turns his head and takes my mouth with his. This kiss is quick and chaste, but it still makes my head spin before he releases me to wobble over to the shower.

  “I’ll wait here.” His arrogant grin shines broadly on his face.

  “Mm, hmm,” I finally manage with a laugh
.

  “Oh, wait,” Ty says, suddenly serious. “We should wrap your cast in plastic. Hold on.” He takes off out the door.

  Thirty minutes later, Ty wraps me up in a towel before stepping in to take my place in the shower. To my surprise, he doesn’t even try to take a peek at my naked body, keeping his gaze locked onto my face. I guess he really wants a repeat performance.

  Lust curls in my belly at the thought, and I force myself to glance away from his shadowy form behind the curtain. Instead, I reluctantly step up to the mirror and rub the steam off with my towel. I know I’m probably tempting fate, but I take a deep breath and touch the glass with my hand.

  Nothing.

  Thank God. I let out a relieved breath. It was just a dream. With a smile, I get dressed the rest of the way and wait for Ty to finish his shower.

  Hours later, Leah, Carly, and I sit on the beach, watching the boys toss a Frisbee back and forth and pretend not to pay attention to the other boys who saunter by us, trying to get our attention.

  “He’s cute,” Carly says, fluttering her eyelashes at the blond, muscular boy who’s waxing a surfboard closer to the water. He smiles back but continues waxing the board.

  “Too much in love with himself.” Leah lies back onto the towel again. “Besides, what would Owen say if he heard you talking about other boys?”

  Carly gives a delicate shrug of her shoulders and examines her scarlet-tipped nails. “I can look. I didn’t say I was going to touch.”

  I snort out a laugh. “Yeah, right. If he came over right now, you’d be all over him.”

  She pouts. “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is.” Leah pushes herself back up onto her elbows. “We’ve known you since kindergarten. You have an addiction to boys.”

  “I do not,” she says, and then smiles as another boy walks by and winks at her. I raise an eyebrow, and she laughs, pushing her honey blonde hair behind her shoulder. “Okay, okay, so I’m addicted to boys. There are worse things to be addicted to.”