Boy in the Mirror

by Robert J. Duperre

  She squinted, trying to remember exactly what the place looked like. “Maybe?”

  “You need to find out.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re looking for a place where shadows breed, and that might be it.”

  “I still don’t get it,” she whispered.

  “There are thin spots in reality,” Mal told her, “like tears in a sheet of paper. Places where a door between one place and another is possible. These hubs give off a sort of vibration that might make you feel like you’re getting seasick. The bad things that have crossed through are drawn to these sorts of places, as if they know they’re close to home but can’t quite figure out how to get there. That’s what shadows breed means. That makes the hubs dangerous…‌though they’re also the key to our finally being together.”

  “How?” she asked.

  “If there really is a hub in this Coppington place, then you’re going to open it.”

  “Open it?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “How?”

  “That, I’m not so sure of. Jackie, do you trust me?”

  She didn’t hesitate a second before nodding.

  “Then listen to me. You need to go to this house and search the basement. If it’s the place, somewhere down there will be an old free-standing floor mirror. There might be some strange devices surrounding that mirror. If you find something like that, then we know for certain it’s the place.”

  A large, old, free-standing floor mirror. Jacqueline thought of her past nightmares, in which her parents were trapped inside that huge mirror with the watery surface, and dread built up in her chest.

  “This is serious, Jackie,” Mal said.

  “I know.”

  He inclined his head. “So you’ll check it out?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. Remember to be careful. Just being close to the hub can make things feel strange. You might see things, visions and the like. Just ignore them, they’re there to trick you. Plus, and this is most important, don’t touch anything. If that house has been abandoned for years, the gateway has gone unchecked. Things from the dark places, malevolent things, have been known to seep out. The last thing you want is to touch an item that’s been infested with the aura of darkness.”

  “Okay.”

  “Just okay? I need to know that you understand, Jackie. That you truly get it.”

  “I do,” she said. “I do.”

  “Then it’s settled. But you need to go quick. Our time’s running short. From what I’ve learned, the door out of here will only be open for a short time, during a specific day, and if we miss that window, it might be a whole year before we can try again. A year is a long time. We don’t know what might happen between now and then.”

  “How soon until it happens?”

  “Where I came from, we called it the day of Erster Vollmond. The first full moon of the new year.”

  “First full moon.” Jacqueline opened her laptop, bringing up the dashboard event calendar Mitzy had set up. She saw the icon for “Full Moon,” resting in the top right corner of the box for January 20th.

  Her eyes widened. “Wow.”

  “What’s up?” asked Mal.

  “It’s on my birthday.”

  The boy in the mirror smiled. “Then it’s perfect. I can’t think of a better birthday present for the most beautiful girl in the world.”

  Jacqueline shuddered, her head shot up. Someone was coming up the stairs. “Gotta go,” she whispered to Mal before shutting the compact and tucking it under her comforter. She clicked on the World of Warcraft icon, watched impatiently as the game slowly loaded.

  There was a knock at the door, and Mitzy poked her head inside. “What’s up, sweetie?” she said. “Should I set up a movie?”

  “Maybe later,” Jacqueline replied. Her voice wavered, and she hoped her aunt didn’t notice.

  “Really?” Mitzy said, frowning. “Having fun with your new game?”

  “Uh-huh. Thanks for getting it for me.”

  “Not a problem. You kids and your technology worry me, though.” She placed a hand on her forehead. “Your generation spends so much time talking to people trapped in black boxes. I wonder sometimes how you relate to the outside world at all.”

  She slowly closed the door. You don’t know the half of it, Jacqueline thought.

  With her aunt gone, she sat up on the bed, pondering what to do. So much unreal stuff had happened to her over the last few months. A large part of her felt expectant, recalling her past dreams. She glanced at the photos of her parents, smiling down on her from their places on the wall. There was no decision to make. She’d go to the Coppington estate, and she’d search for this mirror, but she didn’t want to do it alone.

  She grabbed her phone and dialed Annette’s number. The girl answered on the first ring.

  “Hey, Annette,” Jacqueline said, excitement coursing through her. “Merry Christmas to you too. Hey, I think I’m gonna head out to the old Coppington place in a couple days. Just wondering if you guys might wanna join me…”

  CHAPTER 39

  On Tuesday, two days before New Years, the five Otakus stood on Jacqueline’s front porch watching the snow fall. Jacqueline’s thoughts were a jumbled mess of excitement and dread. She felt close to vomiting.

  “You guys ready?” asked Neil.

  Everyone bobbed their heads, looking as nervous as Jacqueline felt.

  “Okay then,” Olivia said. “Let’s get it on.”

  They walked down the driveway and into the street. Mr. Mancuso, bag of salt in his arms, waved at them on their way past his house. Jacqueline waved back, gave him a smile. She hoped he didn’t get suspicious, since Mitzy was away and he was supposed to be looking out for her. But why would he? Friends usually took walks on snowy afternoons, didn’t they?

  It’d been so long since she’d had true friends that she really wasn’t sure.

  Jacqueline grabbed Annette’s hand and closed her eyes, letting her lead the way. She didn’t know how long she went on like that, but by the time the buzzing in her head started and she opened her eyes, she was standing right in front of the driveway leading to the old Coppington house. Numerous No Trespassing signs were plastered all around the estate. Jacqueline’s every muscle went tense.

  “There it is,” Ronni said.

  “Yup,” echoed Neil.

  Olivia gulped. “Here goes nothing. We’ve been talkin’ about doing this for years.”

  “I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Annette said, frowning.

  Ronni wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m scared.”

  “We all are,” said Neil.

  Olivia looked up at the empty second- and third-story windows. “There’s nothing to worry about. It’s only a house.”

  “Famous last words,” Jacqueline whispered.

  The rest groaned at that.

  A car rumbled down the road behind them, and the friends ducked into the woods. The last thing they needed was for someone to see them and call the cops. When the coast seemed clear, they hurried toward the house.

  The driveway hadn’t been plowed, of course, which meant they had to trundle through knee-high snow. Ronni turned her ankle, and when she yelped Olivia covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Sorry,” Ronni murmured.

  “Watch where you’re walking,” scolded Annette.

  The driveway winded around a small thatch of dying trees. The buzzing in Jacqueline’s ears heightened, until finally the Coppington house came into view. Everyone stopped in their tracks.

  The place was massive, at least a hundred feet wide and four stories tall. Every window had been smashed long ago, leaving behind only a few jagged remnants. One corner of the house was a rounded turret; frayed curtains billowed out a window.

  The house had wood siding that shimmered black, like it was covered with oozing mold. The falling snow didn’t seem to stick to the house at all. Each time Jacqueline breathed, the building seemed to
expand. This place is alive.

  They stood there for some time, no one moving. Only Annette didn’t seem completely terrified. Her ice-blue eyes were narrowed and she breathed easily.

  Seeing Annette’s bravery gave Jacqueline courage. “All right, let’s do this,” she said, and up the rickety old steps she went, boards creaking beneath her feet. The large front door was stuck open, groaning as the wind shoved against it.

  “Be extra careful,” said Annette. “Animals might’ve gotten inside.”

  “Will do, captain,” Neil replied.

  Olivia shrugged off her backpack and handed out the flashlights she’d brought. Jacqueline shined hers into the house. As soon as the beam passed through the portal, it seemed to dim, swallowed by the darkness.

  The buzzing in her head intensified.

  Their nervous footsteps echoed through the spacious interior when they entered. The place reminded Jacqueline of the Cottard estate, with its huge anteroom, winding staircases, and upper balconies. She looked around in awe, and whenever she turned her head, she caught movement out the corner of her eye. Normal objects, like old coat racks, sofas, candelabras, and tables, became lurking monsters when not lit up by her flashlight.

  “Should we go up there?” Neil asked, pointing up toward the balconies.

  “No,” Jacqueline answered. “Too dangerous.”

  “It’s dangerous everywhere,” Neil said.

  Jacqueline sighed.

  “This was Jackie’s idea,” Annette said. “She decides where to go.”

  Neil rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

  Jacqueline flexed her jaw, trying to get the buzzing out of her ears. “I wanna go to the basement,” she said, holding the flashlight beneath her chin. “In spooooky stories, that’s where the ghoooosts are.”

  “Very funny,” Neil grumbled.

  A low hum sounded, like air being blown over an empty bottle.

  “Um, guys?” asked Ronni’s frightened voice. “Can we just get this over with? I don’t like it here.”

  They wandered the first floor, checking each room they came across, looking for the basement entrance. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, the floorboards warped and rotted. At one point they had to inch around a large hole in the floor. Jacqueline wondered if that was where Gabriella Coppington had fallen to her death.

  The buzzing in Jacqueline’s ears was starting to give her a headache. Every time she blinked, she saw odd shapes, some looking like people, some like things much scarier than that. It was like there were ghosts hanging about that only she could see. She started sweating, and took off one of her gloves to brush hair from her eyes. As she did so, she stepped into a dip in the floor and tumbled to the side. Her hand pressed against the wall for balance. The wall felt wet and spongy.

  Like moist, pulsating flesh.

  “Gross, gross, gross,” she said, shaking her hand.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Annette.

  Jacqueline slipped her glove back on. “Nothing.”

  Around the next corner was a kitchen bigger than every room in Mitzy’s house combined. A freezing wind blew in through the windows. The gloomy day’s faint light seemed far away, like a totally different universe. Jacqueline heard mice skittering. Ronni whimpered, as did Olivia.

  The kitchen held numerous stoves, an old icebox, a pantry that stunk like a compost bin, and an industrial-sized sink. The tile floor was broken; chunked bits bounced away when Jacqueline accidentally kicked them. Other than that, the room was empty.

  The five friends exited the kitchen, found their way back to the huge anteroom, and then took the corridor to the right. This hallway was lined with doors, one of them propped open. Jacqueline stopped before that one, grasped the dusty handle. The door opened with a creak. Jacqueline shone her flashlight inside, revealing a set of stairs leading down into a black void.

  “Found it,” she said, voice barely a whisper.

  It was twenty-three steps to the bottom of the staircase. The basement spanned the whole length and width of the house above, lined with thick support columns. Jacqueline took a step into the darkness, hand-in-hand with Annette, the beam of her flashlight seeming insignificant, the droning in her head constant. At least down here she didn’t have to worry about falling through the floor.

  The basement was filled with stacks of old furniture and crumbling cardboard boxes. There was a wrecked poker table, placards for long-defunct beer companies, stacks of books whose covers were flaking away, and even a half-filled wine rack whose bottles were slathered with decades of dust. It was a rotten snapshot in time, the past slowly warping like bad memories sometimes do.

  After fifteen minutes of veering around random piles of debris, light flashed in Jacqueline’s eyes. For a moment she thought there was someone else down there searching with them, but when she brought up her flashlight, her movements were mimicked in the distance. Her eyes widened, her breath came in short bursts.

  “It’s here,” she said, awed.

  “What’s here?” asked Neil.

  Jacqueline ignored him and quick-stepped toward her reflection.

  She came to a stop in front of the mirror Mal had told her about, the one from her dreams. Its mahogany frame was carved with images of different types of fish, weaved in and around a web of seaweed, and at the top there was an odd symbol that looked like a diamond being stabbed from either side by a pair of arrows.

  “It’s a mirror,” said Annette.

  Jacqueline hadn’t realized her friends were standing behind her.

  “Look at that,” Olivia said, pointing at the symbol.

  “What is it?” asked Jacqueline.

  “That’s a Unicursal Hexagram. A symbol from Thelema. Man, this is some Crowley shit.”

  “Thelema?”

  “It’s a sort of religion.”

  “Oh.” Jacqueline furrowed her brow. “How’d you know that?”

  “I know occult stuff,” she said with a shrug. “My mama calls me a novice witch. I like ‘Cyberwicca’ better, though.”

  “Cyberwicca?” said Ronni.

  “Yeah, you know, incorporating modern science into blessings, using Google Earth to transfer positive energy to…” she paused as Neil and Annette giggled at her. “You know what, screw you guys.”

  “Hey, it’s funny.”

  Jacqueline went back to examining the mirror. Just to the right of it was waist-high steel shelving topped with a pair of weird-looking devices. One was a gray metal box, devoid of markings, but with a pair of circular grooves cut into the top, the top one larger than the bottom one. To the right of the box was a sturdy plastic molding of some kind. Different colored lights glowed under her flashlight’s beam. In the center of the mold was an impression that looked like a hand wearing a mitten.

  “Ooh, what’s that?” asked Olivia, poking her head over Jacqueline’s shoulder. “Let’s take a look.”

  “Wait, Olive, don’t…”

  Olivia bent over the shelf and traced the mold’s mitten-like impression. Thankfully, nothing happened. “Whoa, that’s smooth,” she said. She went to lift the device, but it didn’t budge. Must’ve been bolted to the shelf. Olivia hunkered down further.

  “Olive,” Annette said, “don’t mess around.”

  “Hold on, there’s a cabinet or something down here. Let me…‌just…”

  Jacqueline cringed when she heard a snapping sound and a soft creak.

  “Hey, there’s a book down here!” Olivia exclaimed.

  “What kind?” Neil asked.

  Olivia stood up, a thick tome in her hands. She brushed dust off its cover. “Huh.”

  Jacqueline leaned in for a closer look. There were weird gold letters stamped on the cover spelling out words she didn’t recognize.

  Ronni shuffled around to look. “What’s that?”

  “There’s two words. The first is pactum, which is pact in Latin. The second…‌no clue.”

  “Oh, cool,” said Neil. “What’s inside?”

&n
bsp; Olivia opened the cover, carefully flipping through the fragile pages.

  “Can you translate it?”

  “Sure. My Latin’s a little rusty, but I got a program back home…”

  The droning in Jacqueline’s head returned, drowning out all else, growing stronger the closer her hand drew to the strange mold with the mitten imprint. She reached out and the buzz became melodic, like someone playing a harp. Jacqueline smiled and touched the mold, tracing the impression as Olivia had. A soft vibration snaked through her body, warmed her insides, made her vision clearer.

  The lights on the mold suddenly flared to life, and Jacqueline retracted her hand, clutching it to her chest and gaping as the mold flashed and hummed. Her friends were still looking over the book behind her; they didn’t seem to notice what was happening.

  The mirror itself then lit up, and Jacqueline’s image slowly faded away like smoke. A pair of shadows emerged, growing more defined by the second. Jacqueline’s jaw dropped open and she gaped at Joseph and Dhanya Talbot, hands pressed against the inside of the mirror, faces masks of sorrow.

  “Dad?” Jacqueline whispered. “Mom?”

  The image of her parents flickered, and suddenly the both of them were screaming without sound. Her mother slid down the inside of the mirror, pounding on it. Please help us! she mouthed. Her father too began to batter away with his fists. The mirror shuddered each time he connected.

  “Dad! Mom!” Jacqueline shrieked, bursting forward until she collided with the cold, reflective surface. She splayed her hand against the glass. Her father suddenly fell backward, writhing on the ground on the other side of the mirror, blood spewing from his mouth. Jacqueline’s mother glanced at him, then back at her daughter. Tears poured down her face in torrents. Help him! she shrieked soundlessly.

  “Dad, hold on!” Jacqueline screamed, her own tears gushing as she slammed her fists into the mirror. “I don’t know how, Mom! I don’t know what to do!”

  “Jacqueline, what’s wrong?” shouted a frightened voice.

  Hands grabbed her from behind, pulling her away. Jacqueline fought against them. “Stop it!” she screamed. “Let me go! I need to get to them!”