The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

“She didn’t hear me,” Trey realized. “Didn’t see you, didn’t see me. She’s not as strong out of the house, and this is like a loop.”

“Yeah, that’s how I see it. I’m guessing she geared up the night she blew the doors open up there, but she didn’t try that tonight. Just jumped. Then everything changed back.”

Aligning the steps, the known, Trey paced, and factored the not-quite-known in with them.

“And we’re thinking she’s taken that leap every night at three a.m. since, what, 1806.”

“My money’s on it.”

“I hope it hurts, every time. You decide to do this again, come get me first.”

“She didn’t even know I was there. I wondered, because Poole.”

“She didn’t know you were there because you weren’t there. Not when she jumped, and it’s a loop. Same time, same night, same moon.”

“Huh. I didn’t figure that one. Sounds right.”

“The house was here, not exactly the way it is now, but here. And even when she jumps, she’s in it.”

At sea, Owen dragged a hand through his hair. “Now you’re losing me.”

“It’s a loop, Owen, like a replay. But what she is, is in the house. So she can still bang and pound and blow, whatever, even as what’s out there takes the dive.”

“That’s crazy.” For a beat, Owen considered it. “And yet somehow sounds right.”

“It’s done for tonight. I’d say it’s all done for tonight. Let’s get some sleep.”

“I’m for that.”

In the morning, Sonya beat Trey downstairs, and found Owen filling a go-cup with coffee.

“Hey, listen,” he began. “I let the dogs out, and the cat came down right behind them, went to the door, so she’s out, too. I took one of the Toaster Strudels—it was a full box. And I’m taking this go-cup. I’ll bring it back.”

“Okay. I was going to scramble some eggs if you want some.”

“Now she tells me. I’ve gotta go.”

“Don’t forget the jambalaya. And, Owen”—she got out a mug for her own coffee—“you can leave some of your things here in your room, or whatever room you want. Anytime you want to stay, you stay.”

“Thanks.” He glanced over as Trey came in. “I’m heading out, and you’re getting scrambled eggs. You can fill her in on last night.”

After grabbing his share of leftovers, he started out the back for Jones. “Later.”

“Last night?”

“Scrambled eggs?”

“Trey.”

He held up a hand. “Just let me get coffee, okay? You slept through it, probably because it wasn’t anything much. Three a.m., the usual. I got up just to see if Dobbs took her dive. She was on the wall, like before.”

He took his first hit of coffee.

“And?”

“And Owen was outside.”

“He—he went out there?”