Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

If the store had been crowded and uncomfortable earlier, when there had been the unpleasant buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead, in the dark it was downright unsettling.

As I watched, the space filled with oddly shaped lumps and looming shadows, the light from outside spilling through the crowded front window, casting a host of shadows into the store front.

The whole thing was spooky, and if I'd known where the light switch was, I would have flipped it on. My night sight was a heck of a lot better than it had been a few years ago sure, but it still needed something to go on. The second time I bounced my shin off something, I was tempted to set fire to the whole mess and let the Goddess sort it out.

But, considering that I'd already alerted the police that I was here and now I was going inside, I'd made myself the only suspect in what would be an arson investigation. And considering that Taliyah was already going to be angry with me, I probably shouldn't press my luck.

As a Blood Witch, my magic had shifted towards the darker end of the magic spectrum, so the shadows felt more like home than they ever had before. True, they hid a lot of the room, but they hid me too. I could feel them twining around me, could feel the silken weight of the darkness on my skin. There wasn't any need for me to be nervous, not with the warmth of the shadows looped around me like a friendly serpent.

Though the glinting eyes of the taxidermy racoon were still horrifying, and possibly made worse by the shine of the glass in the dark, the dark felt like an embrace. True, I still didn't get why there was a section of taxidermized dead things over in the corner to begin with. People were so weird.

Another thing that the vampire blood had changed about me, was that my hearing was sharper than it had ever been. I wasn't quite at the ‘hear a mouse fart in the field across the road' stage like Lorcan was, but the faint scratch of glass that sounded in the dark pawnshop had been quiet enough that I wasn't sure someone with only human hearing would have caught it.

But I did.

I froze, ears straining as I listened for anything else. For a long moment, there was silence—nothing except the rush and flutter of my own pulse in my ears. Then it came again, just the faintest scratching, like a rat pawing at a window.

In the dark, draped in shadows, my skin felt alive. The fine hairs on my body stood on end, prickling as I picked my way forward slowly and silently.

A car passed by on the street, its headlights flooding the store through the front window. Bars of shadow and searing light filled the pawnshop, and I jerked back with a hiss. After so long in near complete darkness, the light was like a stab right to my brain and had tears beading on my eyelashes. I stood there, my face tucked into my shoulder until I was sure the car was gone and that it had taken the painful light with it, and I started forward again.

When the skittering sound came again, I froze for the second time. It was definitely the sound of movement, but I couldn't tell from where. It felt like my skin was trying to crawl off my body, like it was tired of me messing about and wanted to go have a look for itself.

I took a slow, deep breath and let my eyes close. It wasn't like they were doing me any good at the moment, anyway. It still made my heart race to do it, though. Holding my breath, trying to slow the frantic rush and pulse of my heart, I strained my ears as hard as I could, trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from.

One of the most annoying things about being blooded by a vampire, other than becoming a Blood Witch, losing my coven, and being harassed by both witches and vampires, had been the enhanced senses. Oh, sure, it sounded good on paper, like a superpower or something. And sure, the improved eyesight was nice and came in handy when it was dark out. But hearing had been a challenge.

It was incredible how much sheer amount of noisethere was in the world—something I found incredibly difficult to filter out. Machines hummed, lights buzzed, pipes gurgled. And let's not even discuss the rolling thunder sound of footsteps and people muttering, or their noses whistling when they breathed. A person sitting in a room, thinking they were being silent, was like an unbearable cacophony to me.

And don't even get me started on my new and ‘improved' sense of smell. Thank the Goddess that hadn't happened until well after deodorant had been invented. Though it did make me want to ban perfume sometimes.

All of these enhancements added up to one thing; it was very difficult for someone to sneak up on me. What was more—weird scratching sound aside, as far as I could tell, I was alone in the building. At least, no one was breathing, shuffling around, or mumbling. There was no brush of clothing against a shelf or the floor, no scuff of a shoe. The only heartbeat in the place was mine. Yes, there was no one else here.

So, then, why was the door open? And what the spell was that sound?

If Hughes wasn't in the building, then there was no reason to sneak around. And if he was in here… well, something might be wrong, or he was screwing with me and there wasn't a lot I could do about it. Finally, after dithering for way too long, I opened my eyes to yet more darkness and gave a mental shrug.

"Hello?" I called out. "Mr. Hughes? Are you here?"

Nothing. Not even a surprised inhale.

So, probably alone, then. Most likely, anyway.

But then the scratching sound started up again, a bit louder this time. It was definitely the sound of something scraping up against glass, and it wasn't coming from the front windows, as far as I could tell. So where could it be coming from?

The counters on the other side of the store—they were made of glass. The better to show off the merchandise, I supposed. Whatever the sound was then, it had to be coming from that direction.

If I'd thought squishing my way through the narrow aisles of the store when the lights were on was hard, it was basically an Olympic sport in the pitch dark. The way the shadows twisted and spilled across the floors meant that I was bumping into piles of junk, tripping on others, and in one embarrassing incident, trying to climb over something that wasn't actually there.

The air smelled bad too—like way too much dust and there was the faint scent of mold and whatever vinegary cleaner got used on occasion. The funk burned in my nose, and it was sheer force of will that kept me from erupting into a sneezing fit. The whole place made me desperately want a shower, like I could feel the grime settling in on my skin.

I was going to need to soak in a bathtub until my next anniversary to feel clean again.

I almost tripped over a basketball hoop that had been tipped over from the end of one of the shelves. My heel tangled on the net, and I had to do a mortifying little hop to keep from falling over. It hadn't been like that earlier, I was fairly sure (not that I'd memorized the layout of the place). When I patted around in the dark, I found a few of the boxes and items were now sticking out in funny angles—like someone had run through the aisles in a hurry. Had the basketball hoop pulled them as it fell?

Or had there been a struggle?

The space between the shelves and the glass cases that made up the counter was clear, and nothing seemed to be amiss as far as the stuff behind the glass went. It was still hard to see, but there were no obvious gaps or spaces, or anything jumbled in a hurry and no piles of broken glass anywhere. I'd only been in the store for twenty minutes before, but nothing stood out like a glaring neon sign that said ‘problem here' in three-foot-tall letters.

The metal and gemstones behind the glass glittered in the dark, like an incredibly sinister field of stars. Even though I knew I was alone in the building, I felt like I was being watched. And I was pretty sure that unsettling feeling wasn't just coming from my imagination.

The odd little scratching noise came again, and I froze. My pulse was thick in my throat, and my mouth was bone dry. I scanned the cases, but there was no movement at all in or behind them, and nothing that I could think of that could make a sound like that. Had a mouse gotten trapped somewhere? Mice liked to scamper, though, so I'd have probably caught that.

So, where the spell was the sound coming from?

I took another step forward and went still again. My ears strained to catch a sound, eyes darting around for any sign of movement. The sound could have been coming from somewhere else, but I was pretty sure it was the sound of something scratching against glass that I was hearing. And the only other thing in the store that was made out of glass was that big, clunky mirror I'd seen behind the counter.

I crept forward, not quite daring to lean against the counter, because who knew what funk it was covered in. Soon, I found myself up close and personal with the mirror hanging on the wall. Big, ugly, and somehow just as gaudy in the dark as it had been in the light, the mirror was intact, and there was nothing close enough to touch it, let alone scratch it.

Another car drove by outside, tires hissing against the wet asphalt, and the pale amber glow of headlights came flooding into the store again. Before I could turn my head in a useless attempt to save what was left of my retinas from the sucker punch of the light, I caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of my eye.

Movement.

On the inside of the mirror's glass.

"What. The. Spell." I looked over my shoulder, eyes straining to see what might have caused the reflection. But there wasn't anything. Just me, and some cluttered shelves, and it wasn't my reflection I'd seen moving.

Did that mean… the movement was on the inside of the mirror?

Curiosity went to war with self-preservation in my head and, as usual, curiosity kicked butt and took names.

As quickly as I could, I hobbled around to the other side of the counter, tripping and nearly falling as I went. If I'd thought the rest of the store was bad, the amount of junk shoved behind the counter was downright impressive. Clearly organization was out. Piles were in.

The mirror was dark in its metal frame, like the surface of a nighttime lake. Still, I could swear I could see fluttering movement inside the glass, like something franticly darting back and forth. I turned my head to check and yep, the shop was still and silent on the other side of the counter.

I wasn't about to stand around waiting for another car to go by, so I dug out my cellphone. There were about fifty notifications of texts and missed calls, but I ignored them all. At the rate I was going, I was going to have an even better mystery to give Taliyah when she got here. Well, one could always hope, anyway.

I flicked on the flashlight setting on my phone and shone it on the mirror. The light glinted off a small chip near the bottom of the glass, like it had been knocked by a careless hand. Inside the glass was a perfect shadowy reflection of the pawnshop, and the corner of my phone. There was also the panicked, pale face of Mr. Hughes.

"What," I started, shaking my head as I doubted my eyes. But, no, it was definitely Hughes and he was definitely stuck on the inside of the mirror.

One of his hands was raised to paw at the glass and he was waving franticly like he was trying to get my attention.

I gaped at him. "How the spell did you get in there?"

He shouted something, but the sound came out muffled—like someone trying to yell through thick glass, which made sense. It wasn't any less frustrating, though.

Well. Son of a witch.

This whole case was getting stranger and stranger by the second. Though, I thought as I flicked the chip at the bottom of the mirror with my thumb, I was pretty sure I knew how this particular curse had been triggered.

Break a mirror, seven years of bad luck.

Poppy knew that one all too well. Still, I winced. Fingers crossed for the old guy that he wouldn't be trapped in there for seven years. Because—well, that wouldn't be any fun.

Just holding my palm over the surface of the mirror, I could feel the curse. It was all sticky tendrils and fury and spite. It tried to latch onto my hand, but the shadows around me rose up and pushed the curse away. It was still hungry, clinging, even after it already had a victim. That wasn't a good sign.

The other cursed items I'd come across had been depleted after their one big bang, having to recharge, so to speak, before they could work up to another curse. But this mirror? Ooh, it was a piece of work, and I meant that in the most impressed way possible. I was pretty sure this particular curse was actually feeding on the man trapped in its web, taking his panic and fear, and using both to wrap him up further into its depths.

Honestly, I was a little impressed.

Horrified, yes, but still impressed.