Chapter 1

ONE

AMETHYST

My life flashes before my eyes like a kaleidoscope of fractured memories. The first ten years are black, the ones following are muted. When I meet Xero, the colors turn vivid, at first. Then red with his betrayal. And finally flames, when I set him on fire.

Now, I’m here, in Mom’s kitchen, staring at her corpse.

The monster in the mirror got to her first.

She also shot Uncle Clive in the chest.

How did that thing escape her glass prison? She isn’t real. She can’t be real. But her breath mists in the air, her eyes gleam with life, and her hands drip with blood. She’s too terrifying to be a nightmare.

I step backward through the kitchen, my feet slipping on Clive’s freshly spilled blood. My heart beats so hard that its vibrations reach my fingertips. That only excites the doppelg?nger, who advances on me, her chest rising and falling with excited breaths.

The afternoon sun streams through the kitchen window, highlighting the golden flecks in her green eyes. She looks nothing like me, even though everything about us is identical from the scars on our chins to the way only the left side of our curls is bleached. She even lightened her right eyebrow to match mine.

Which means she isn’t a mirror image.

Another sign that she hasn’t crawled out of the mirror is her clothes. While my hoodie, leggings, and tank top are covered in mausoleum dust, she’s clad in an over-bust corset and black miniskirt identical to what I wore for shooting videos for the fan club.

But that doesn’t mean anything I’m seeing is real.

This has to be an immersive hallucination brought on by overwhelming stress. I just watched Xero invite a bunch of men to rape me while I was unconscious. Then I burned him alive and escaped through the catacombs. My trauma doubled when I went to the vicarage for help and ended up fighting off Reverend Tom.

It’s no wonder my brain is glitching.

On the journey across town, I kept hallucinating smoke. Maybe my mind conjured up an empty road, and I crashed the car. Maybe the real me is lying in the wreckage, imagining this creature wearing my face has crawled out of a mirror dimension to murder my family.

“What’s wrong, Amy?” she asks, her grating voice forcing me back to the present. It’s melodic, mocking, menacing, like she’s merely a parody of a human. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Her green irises dance within the whites of her eyes. It’s like locking gazes with a predator that wants to eat my soul. Nausea clogs my throat, and my stomach twists the way it usually does when I look in the mirror too long.

This creature is nothing like me. She’s hateful. Murderous. Insane. She’s everything Mom and Dr. Saint feared I would become—a remorseless killer.

Blood roars between my ears, drowning out the frantic beat of my pulse. The kitchen spins, rooting me in the center of a carousel of delusions.

I swallow hard, forcing down a surge of panic, and my gaze bounces to the monster’s gun. When the kitchen timer chimes, something inside me snaps. This is too vivid to be a hallucination. Too visceral. This has to be a grand mal delusion.

“Tongue-tied?” she asks.

“What…” I gulp. “Who are you?”

Her laughter rings in my ears like alarm bells, warning me to turn around and run. Run now before I become her third victim.

“What kind of question is that?” she asks, her voice hardening. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the sister whose life you stole.”

Ice fills my veins, making my breath catch. I glance at the floor where Mom lies unmoving in a puddle of congealed blood. She never mentioned any siblings. I would know if I had a sister, let alone a twin. And I sure as hell didn’t steal anyone’s life.

The creature flutters her lashes, tilts her head, and stares like I’m the curiosity. “You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

“Me,” she snarls and raises the gun to my head.

My heart flips. I still can’t believe this is real, yet she’s advancing on me, her fury mounting with each sticky, wet step.

Terror clogs my throat, and I swallow over and over, trying to dislodge the knot of paralysis keeping me rooted to the spot. She keeps coming, those uncanny features twisting into a rictus of rage.

Move, Amethyst.

MOVE!

“If you’ve forgotten your sins, then I will make you remember!” she screams.

Her shrill voice triggers dormant prey instincts, and every nerve in my body screams at me to flee. The tendrils of fear tethering my feet to the kitchen floor snap, and I turn on my heel and run into the mud room.

One foot catches on Uncle Clive’s leg, while the other slips on his blood. I stumble through the narrow space, my arms flailing as I hurtle out of the door.

The doppelg?nger’s maniacal laugh follows me through the mud room and out into the manicured garden. Juniper-scented air fills my nostrils but does nothing to clear the scent of death. It clings to my sinuses, my throat and lungs… down to the very depths of my soul. Mom… Uncle Clive… murdered by that monster.

I stumble over the gravel patio, my gaze darting across the garden. Beyond the hedge maze, flowerbeds, and lawn stands a border of evergreens separating Mom and Dad’s property from the neighbors.

Scenarios flicker through my mind like strobe lights. I could escape through the trees and run for help or rush around the house to where I left the car. Either way, I risk being shot in the back before I get even close to help.

I sprint toward the driveway, but two familiar-looking men emerge around the corner, both clad in navy blue uniforms with gold badges.Even though the visors on their flat-topped hats obscure their eyes, I can tell they’re here for me.

“Where are you going?” rumbles the man on the left.

He’s an oversized brute with a broken nose and a jaw covered in dark stubble. Spreading his arms, he charges at me like a linebacker. His partner, a golden-haired pretty boy with sparkling blue eyes, pulls out a taser and grins.

Alarm punches me in the chest, knocking out my air.

Change of plan.

Pivoting, I bolt toward the hedge maze, putting as much distance as I can between me and the men. If I can reach the trees at the end of the lawn, then maybe I can catch the attention of a neighbor or circle around toward the car.

“Come back, Amy,” says a smoother male voice that probably belongs to the blond. He sounds almost kind, but there’s no mistaking his sick joy.

I quicken my pace, not stopping to work out their uniforms. They aren’t the police, even though they’re both wearing body cams. Gravel crunches underfoot, threatening to drown out my thoughts. Are they connected to the other men who broke into my house? Does it even matter? I need to focus on escaping, not speculating.

“Don’t damage her,” the doppelg?nger yells.

Her voice provides a fresh surge of adrenaline to pump my arms, forcing my body to run faster, harder, and escape this nightmare. As I round the maze at full speed, heavy footsteps thunder closer. Before I know it, a large arm encircles my waist, lifting me into the air.

My stomach lurches. Cold alarm forces out a scream.

“Got you!” The brute spins around so we’re facing the back of the house.

The doppelg?nger stands in the mud room door with the blond, both flashing me dazzling grins.

“Help—”

The brute clamps a hand over my mouth.

“Put her in the van,” says the doppelg?nger.

“Sure thing, Dolly.”

Dolly.

Stiffening, I turn my gaze back toward the monster wearing my face. Dolly is the name of the woman from X-Cite Media. The one who sent men to my house. The one who arranged for Lizzie Bath to be raped and murdered for a snuff movie.

Dolly is also married to Xero’s father.

As the large man marches me around the back of the house, her eyes burn into my profile, but I can’t withstand her stare. I thrash within the brute’s grip, even though each futile movement saps my strength.

I refuse to believe this is real. My real body must be out there, trapped in a car wreck, or strapped to a gurney while I hallucinate this horror to escape the truth that I killed Xero.

But if I can’t break through this illusion, then I’m facing a nightmare that will make me wish I was dead.