The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

“Patricia Poole. Well, not Poole yet. I think it was her engagement party. No, I know it was. The dress, like in the photo Deuce had. The same dress and hairstyle.”

“Did you dream that? Did you go through the mirror again last night?”

“No. Just now, here. In the library. I need to—”

Shifting in her chair, Sonya lowered her head between her knees.

“Are you going to be sick?” Instinctively, Cleo pulled back Sonya’s hair.

“No, no, just… a little lightheaded. A little shaky.”

“Just breathe, baby.” Gently, Cleo rubbed Sonya’s back. “I’ll get you some water.”

“No, I… I think I need air more. I’ll go outside, get some air.”

“You wait. I need shoes and a sweater. You stay right there for a minute.”

Sonya didn’t argue, but did sit up again as Cleo dashed to her room. She raced back wearing sneakers and dragging on a cardigan.

“We’ll go slow.”

“It’s already better. I just want some air.” But she picked up the compact to take with her. “I came up to shower and change after a workout. We were up pretty early. God, you haven’t even had coffee yet.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Cleo kept an arm around her as they walked down the stairs.

“Yoda, Jack.” As Sonya said his name, the dog raced back downthe hall. The cat came with him. “I guess Pye, too. I was going to call out that I was coming down, then I saw it.”

When Cleo opened the front door, the cat and dog ran out ahead of them.

“God, that feels good.” Sonya took two deep gulps of fresh air. “Better, really better. I saw it, the mirror, in the library.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I was going to,” Sonya said as they walked. “But then… I needed to go through. It was as if I had to go through right then. And when I did, I was in the library. But before. Different sofa, different lamps, flowers. Music and voices from upstairs. The ballroom. And it was night. Fire going, the lamps lit.

“And she walked in. Patricia came in.”

Sonya told her, from start to finish, pulling out the details. Ones she’d never forget.

“They didn’t see me, Cleo, neither of them. Patricia went from arrogant, superior, furious to terrified in a matter of minutes.”

“Being knocked down by a ghost who threatens to murder you will do that. Dobbs warned her, warned her off because she actually liked her.”

“I don’t know if she’s capable of liking anyone, but she understood and respected the thirst for power. And figured Michael Poole would pick someone else, more to her taste, I guess it is.”

“But Patricia married Michael anyway. Just didn’t come back to the manor.”

“Terrified,” Sonya concluded, “but calculating. And Dobbs had to wait a full generation more.”

“For Clover.”

“Yeah, God. Dobbs didn’t see me, Cleo, but when Patricia ran out, when she wasn’t there for Dobbs to focus on, she felt me. It confused her, pissed her off, I could see both all over her. She thought I was one of the five brides she’d killed at that point. And when she vanished, I walked over to this.”

Sonya pulled the compact out of her pocket. The gold gleamed as if freshly polished in the sunlight.

“I didn’t see how I could actually pick it up, but, like with the mirror, I felt I had to. And I did. Picked it up, picked up the puffs, closed it up.”

She stopped, turned to Cleo with the compact in her hands. “I brought it back through. From then to now. She dropped this eighty years ago, but I’m holding it.”