The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

“Yeah, I see. We need to get the others.”

Her heart broke as she gripped Trey’s hand. As the midwife said, “The babe’s coming!”

Then, even as they rushed out, unseen, the room changed yet again. She saw Clover, pale as the ghost she was, racked with the pains of labor.

“I have to help her.” Sonya broke away, and though her hands simply passed through the woman on the bed, she felt a jolt, like an electric shock.

“Someone’s here, Charlie.” Breathless, Clover tossed her head from side to side. “Someone’s here.”

“No one here but us, babe. It’s just you and me. I’m here. Don’t worry.”

“Sonya.” Trey gripped her hand again, pulled her back. “Sonya, stay with me.”

In the hall people scurried along or strolled. A couple shared a kiss outside a bedroom door before the woman giggled and drew the man inside.

A man in a stiff black suit carried a tray with two brandy snifters out of the library and turned toward the stairs.

Owen already stood outside his room with a growling Jones.

“Looks like we’ve got a lot of company.”

“Cleo!” Even as Sonya rushed toward the room, Cleo stumbled out.

“There’s someone in my bed. Jesus, there’s someone in my bed.”

“I’ll take a look.”

Before Trey could go in, Sonya grabbed his arm. “Together. Stay together.”

Not someone, but a couple, naked, lost in the throes.

Sonya couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. “No. Just no.”

She turned to go out and the doorbell bonged. And kept bonging even as something beat against the front doors.

As they went back into a hall, a maid carrying a stack of linens walked straight through them. She stopped a moment, shuddered as she looked behind her.

Then continued on.

A woman in a green velvet riding outfit with a tall hat cocked on her head came out of another room and strode toward the stairs.

A man in a white suit, red bow tie, and spats jogged up to them.

“It’s not now,” Cleo murmured. “But not really then.”

“From the looks and sounds of it, it’s whenever. She was out there,” Trey said to Owen. “Dobbs, on the wall, and facing the house. She saw us. She waited to see us.”

“Let’s go see if she still is.”

The dogs raced ahead of them to bark at the door. The cat arched her back and hissed.

Screams and racing feet sounded from the ballroom.

“They’re dying,” Sonya said quietly. “The brides. They’re all dying.”

As they started down, Astrid Poole limped through them, her hand pressed to her bloody white gown.

Sonya’s heart shuddered as she fell. More screams filled the air. And as she looked down, Sonya saw not only Astrid, but Johanna.