21. Seeing Herself In

Chapter 21

Seeing Herself In

H ugo focused his attention on his phone as he finished putting on his clothes. There had been no response. No call. Nothing. It was silent, and he didn’t like it. Helplessness washed over him as the unknown surrounded him. He had no idea if the Raskins or Max or Alice were safe. There was only silence and waiting.

He paced around the bedroom, trying to ease his mind. He stopped outside the bathroom door. It was dark and quiet inside. The sounds of Alice’s reflection’s wailing had long since stopped. He flipped on the light switch.

“Go away,” Alice’s reflection yelled. “I want to be left alone.”

Hugo ignored the request and entered the bathroom. He turned to face the mirror. Alice’s reflection was huddled on the floor in the corner of her bathroom, fixated on the wall. A purple bathrobe was wrapped around her like a child being swaddled. Her head was bent over.

Hugo placed his hands on the ornate gold frame of the mirror and leaned in. He tried to speak, but the words failed him. He knew no matter what he said, no matter how sincere, he couldn’t undo the damage.

He could only say, “I’m sorry.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Alice’s reflection said.

“No, but I wanted to let you know I’m sorry.”

“Do you want a cookie?”

Hugo lowered his head. “She’s putting on a brave face for me, but I need to know. How is she doing?”

“I thought we had this discussion about knowing her innermost thoughts?”

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m failing the test now.”

Alice’s reflection didn’t move.

“I need to know. I need to know how she feels. How you feel.”

Alice’s reflection glanced over her shoulder, a scowl on her face. Mascara ran down her face, and then tears followed.

“You want to know how I feel?” Her eyelids narrowed.

“Yes.”

She got up from her corner and stormed to the mirror. Her bathrobe unfurled to expose Alice’s comfort clothing of choice—black long sleeves with matching leggings and bare feet—as it flowed behind her. She arrived at the mirror and gave it a good smack with her hand.

“I’m fucking furious,” she answered. “And she is too. She might be talking a good game right now, but she’s furious.”

Hugo let go of the frame and dropped his head. He couldn’t look her in the eyes.

“She’s furious because she blames herself. Not you,” Alice’s reflection continued.

Hugo arched his eyebrows, shocked by the answer.

“She was too scared to deal with this on her own and wanted to run. That’s all she’s ever done. Boy troubles? Run away. Girl troubles? Run away. Career troubles? Run away.”

He thought Alice would certainly blame him, not herself .

“And I blame her too. The one thing in this world she actually ran toward was you, and now look!”

Hugo rubbed his neck where he had been bitten. He paused and then touched his retracted fangs with the tips of his thumb and index finger.

“You’re the only thing she cares about, and she let you down. We let you down.” Alice’s reflection fought back tears as she focused on where Hugo’s reflection last stood. “Now I’ve lost the only love I’ve ever had. You were the only one she did this for. There were no other reflections. Just you . . . And he vanished in my arms. There was nothing I could do. I could only watch, never to get him back. Do you know how that feels?”

Hugo pinched the spot on his left ring finger where his wedding ring had been. He held it only for a split second before recoiling his hand. He had slipped back into old habits from a previous life. She was hurting as much as he was hurting when his black onyx wedding ring had occupied his finger. He knew exactly what she needed to hear.

“I do,” Hugo said.

Her eyes were red and bloodshot. Black, mascara filled tears streamed down her face.

Hugo continued, “I know that feeling all too well. The exact feeling I had with Elizabeth. I know what it’s like being forced to watch someone suffer and perish. The feeling of helplessness. I went through it again when Alice was hurt, and I didn’t know what to do. But do you know what I learned?”

“What?” Alice’s reflection asked in hushed words.

“It took me a while. It took Alice helping me through it. Even though I might not have changed the outcome, at least I was there. They weren’t alone, and that’s all they could have asked for. I was there for Elizabeth. You were there for my reflection. That must count for something.”

Alice’s reflection wiped the tears from her eyes. She examined her blackened fingers from the running mascara. She drew water from her sink, washed her hands clean, and wiped them on her purple bathrobe.

“I guess you’re right,” Alice’s reflection said.

“It hurts. It doesn’t get easier, but you have to keep going. We’ll find a way to fix this. Even if The Lovers’ Kiss didn’t work, there has to be something. We’ll bring him back. I promise you.”

She sniffled to hold back the tears welling up. She smiled. “Thank you.”

“I promise when this is all done, we’ll keep trying.”

Thunderous knocks rattled the front door, varied in their tempo—the sound of panic. It drew the attention of Hugo and Alice’s reflection.

“Sounds like she’s in trouble,” Hugo said. “Is she?”

“I feel fear, panic. I think so.”

“On or off?” Hugo asked as he started out of the bathroom.

“On, but shut the door,” Alice’s reflection answered.

Hugo shut the door behind him and darted out of the bedroom. He flew down the stairs and pulled back the black sheer curtain covering the inset window.

“Alice?” Hugo asked.

Sylvia, face to face with only the glass between them, locked eyes with Hugo. Her pupils dilated and her irises flashed red. “Look at me,” she commanded. “Lose yourself in me.”

Hugo’s eyes dilated and flashed red.

Sylvia smiled. “Now, be a good pet and let me in.”

Hugo tried to resist. Every fiber in his being screamed for him to not let her in, but something compelled him. Something took control. Sylvia was taking control over him, forcing him to act against his will. But how?

He turned the ornate diamond knob and opened the door. Sylvia entered. Her hands were concealed within the pockets of her crimson velvet jacket. The swallowtail hem extended down to the back of her knees and sashayed with every step as her high heels clacked against the hardwood .

“Thank you. Now shut the door. Stand there until I tell you to move, and don’t speak unless I tell you to do so. I want your eyes to follow me around,” she ordered.

Hugo shut the door as commanded and remained motionless. He tried to scream. He tried to yell, but was frozen, held in place by an unseen force. His arms tightened. Fear overwhelmed him.

They had breached the door. They were inside.

Sylvia tapped him twice on his left cheek and traced her fingers down under his chin. “Good boy.”

Sylvia examined her surroundings, settling on the console tables lining the hallway. She picked up one of the amethyst crystals scattered across the tabletop. She turned the crystal around, examining every cut edge. “Your girl really loves purple, doesn’t she?”

She tossed the crystal. A piece broke off as it hit the hardwood floor.

Hugo couldn’t move, frozen in silence. His arm shimmied as he clenched his fists.

Sylvia tapped on his shoulders as she passed by into the living room. “Whoa,” Sylvia said as she discovered the various objects decorating the room. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or worried the two of you are becoming hoarders. There’s so much.”

She took in her surroundings. The red velvet couch. The black high-back leather chair. The gnarled fingers of purple, black, red, and white candle wax frozen in place as they dripped over the edge of the fireplace mantle. The bookshelves filled with various oddities and cherished memories.

She turned her attention back to Hugo. “Why don’t you join me in here? Come.” Sylvia smacked her thigh as one would to get the attention of a dog. “Sit in the middle of the couch.”

Hugo did as instructed, never taking his eyes off Sylvia. He traversed in silence as he maneuvered around her and took his place on the couch.

“Good pet.”

I’m going to stab her myself. So, help me. I’ll stab her .

Sylvia tapped her hands together as she surveyed the room. She stopped and brought them to the side of her face, leaning her chin on the back of her hand. “So many places to look. I don’t know where to begin. Don’t tell me yet. I love a good hunt.”

She stood in front of the fireplace mantle. Her eyes traced the gnarled finger like wax dripping over the edge of the mantle. The light of the candles burned bright as they awaited the oncoming darkness of night.

“Don’t answer, but I hope you know this is a fire hazard,” Sylvia said. Her fingers traced around bubbled wax drippings. “I mean, one little bump and this whole house could go up in flames.”

She flicked the candles off the mantle. Their flames extinguished in mid-air as they tumbled to the floor. They bounced off the ground a few times before rolling around to their final spots.

Sylvia smirked at Hugo. “A fire safety spell. Smart.” Sylvia stalked to her next target.

Sylvia stood in front of one of Alice’s many shelves, packed to the brim with books, macabre items, and covered in the winding vines of plants nestled on top. Sylvia pulled out a book and flipped through the pages. “A history of witches during the Middle Ages,” Sylvia read aloud. “Fascinating, but all a lie. They always leave out the parts of history they don’t want you to know. Like how witches nearly wiped out us vampires. All because they wanted to protect their precious humans. You may see it as protection. I see it as defiling the natural order of things.” She tossed the book over her shoulder.

Hugo clutched the seat cushion, his fist full of the red velvet material. Fire and malice in his eyes. He made the most of what little bodily control he had.

She turned to Hugo. She smiled a devilish, knowing grin. “You know, she could have easily hidden the scroll in one of these books, but I don’t think that’s her style. No, she’s far too intelligent to hide it there. But what if she hid it behind this bookcase?”

Sylvia grabbed the edge of the case and pulled it forward. The contents spilled all over the hardwood floors. The potted plant shattered, sending dirt scattering with the pieces of dark green ceramic. There were no secret compartments in the bookcase or wall.

Sylvia raised her hands in the air and chuckled. “Oops. Guess I was wrong.”

Hugo’s fingers dug deeper into the cushion. He clenched his teeth. His arms shook.

Sylvia pouted her lips. “I hope my game of hide-and-seek isn’t making you upset. I don’t like it when my pets are upset.”

She dug her hands into her pocket and moved closer to Alice’s memory shrine. “What do we have here?”

She surveyed the old family pictures and heirlooms—the various crystals, flowers frozen in time, sets of keys, a quill, and the box containing Hugo’s wedding ring. Her hand hovered over each item, unsure of which item to pick up first. They lingered over the masterfully crafted wooden box, the picture of Elizabeth’s smiling face resting behind it.

Hugo watched in silent horror. He let out a barbaric yawp only his mind could hear. He was powerless to stop her. His arms and legs were bound to the couch by unseen shackles. He wanted to jump up and fight her, but couldn’t.

Sylvia picked up one of Alice’s family photos—an older photograph from the late nineteenth century. Her eyes lingered on the photo, narrowing the longer they fixated on the image. Her sharpened fingernail screeched across the glass as she traced Xs over both images.

The picture of Alice’s great-great grandparents always caught Hugo’s attention when he glanced at the memory shelf. The black and white photo was worn and starting to fade. In the picture, there was a rugged, scruffy man wearing a black cowboy hat, armed with two six-shooters by his side. He stood with an arm draped around the shoulders of a beautiful woman. She wore a dark blouse over a long-sleeve lace shirt, a black walking skirt which dragged along the ground, and a witch’s hat. Both appeared to be in their late thirties .

Sylvia dropped the picture frame, cracking it in splintering spiderwebs of broken glass.

“Oops,” Sylvia said.

She snared a set of keys with her finger. She twirled them around as she surveyed the rest of the area. She examined Galahad’s remains atop the shelves. She paused, twirling the keys faster and faster.

Don’t you dare touch him or so help me!

After she was done playing, she flung the keys across the room. “Nope. I don’t think she’d keep it up here. Maybe you can tell me where the spell is located.”

She strutted over and stood in front of Hugo. Sylvia dropped to her knees, placing her hands on his. She leaned in, working her hands up his legs as she spread them apart. Hugo’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the cushion as hard as he could.

“You know, I could give you anything you want. All you have to do is ask.”

I want you dead, bitch.

She worked her hands further up his legs, stopping on his upper thighs. “Do you want me? They don’t have to know. It could be our little secret.” She tapped his legs.

Hugo fought back every tantalizing urge of excitement. His thoughts focused on Alice.

She touched his chest with her right index and middle fingers, playfully marching them down his torso. She indulged herself with every prolonged press of her fingers.

“Look at me,” she said. He did as told. “Are you enjoying my gifts? I want you to answer me with yes or no.”

“No,” Hugo replied.

She leaned back on her heels and pouted her lips. “No? Do you not appreciate what I’ve done for you? Answer me.”

“No,” Hugo replied again.

She tilted her head, pressing her lips together. She leaned in deeper. She laid on top of him, raising her head until it was next to his. He could smell the mixture of perfume on her body and blood on her breath.

She traced his jaw with her finger. “Maybe you need to be shown how to use your gifts—all of your gifts. I could show you. I could show you how fun being a vampire could be. Answer me yes or no. Would you like me to show you?”

Hugo wanted to throw her off and grab the wooden stake. He wanted nothing more than to drive it right into her chest. Yet, he couldn’t. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He had no choice but to respond.

He narrowed his eyes. “No.”

She pulled back. “You really are no fun, aren’t you?” She tapped her knees. “I guess I’ll be on my way. So, why don’t you tell me where your little girlfriend keeps The Lovers’ Kiss spell?”

Don’t tell her. Don’t do it. He screamed, a scream only he could hear. He hesitated. He resisted.

“Tell me!” she commanded once more.

With all of his willpower and might, he resisted once more.

“I won’t ask again,” she commanded as she moved her finger over his neck. Her sharpened fingernail dug into his neck.

“Downstairs,” he responded.

“See, it wasn’t so bad. Where?”

He tried to keep his mouth shut, but the compulsion overwhelmed him. “In her cellar.”

“Where in her cellar?”

“Behind a stone above her workbench.”

“Thank you,” she said as she stood up. “Wait right here. I’ll be back.” She winked at him and left the living room.

Hugo could hear her opening the basement door and descending the creaky steps.

What have I done? Forgive me, Alice.

His heart raced. Sweat ran down the back of his head. He wanted to move, to stop her, but the unseen force kept him frozen in place.

He still had control over his eyes, even though his body and head couldn’t move. His worst fear was confirmed—the front door was closed. With the door shut and Alice’s key in the house, there would be no rescue coming. He was alone, at her mercy, and she knew it.

The ticking of the grandfather clock was excruciating. His heart sunk with each passing movement.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

She had been gone for what felt like an eternity. Thoughts raced through his mind as to what she was doing down there. What she could do. What she would do.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

His eyes shifted to his right. He could only see the shelves out of the corner of his eyes. He wanted nothing more than for Galahad to spring to life, fly down the stairs, and stab her in the heart. He poured his entire essence and soul into his wish.

Come on, buddy. I need you. Please. Do something.

The broomstick didn’t move.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The clacking of her high heels grew louder as Sylvia ascended the basement stairs. She entered the living room holding a bottle of wine with a disappointed expression on her face. She stood in the entryway and leaned against the door frame, tilting her head. She tapped the bottle with her fingers as she held it in her hand.

“I found her little hiding spot,” Sylvia said. “But it seems the little witch moved it. Apparently, she doesn’t even trust you with its secret hiding spot.”

Hugo tried to smile, but couldn’t.

“I did find this, though.” She held the bottle so Hugo could see the label: The Lovers’ Kiss Hugo & Alice . “Looks like you two actually made a batch. Did it work?”

Hugo resisted and remained silent.

“Answer me!” Sylvia shouted.

“Yes,” Hugo replied.

“Good.” She smiled and moved toward Hugo, placing the bottle on the coffee table .

Sylvia positioned her knees on the couch between Hugo’s legs and hands. She straddled him, sitting on his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her strawberry blonde hair tickled Hugo’s face as she moved her hips around to get a better position.

“You’re a lucky man, Hugo Dodds,” Sylvia said in a flirtatious voice. “Every time I think about taking your head off, I always come up with a reason to keep you alive . . . or undead, as it would be.” She laughed with villainous glee.

His head trembled with anger.

She leaned in closer, her breath washing over his lips. In a low, seductive voice, she said, “Does this excite you?”

“No,” he responded.

“It excites me. I do have to warn you, though. Sebastian can be a very jealous lover. If he should find you, I can’t imagine what he’d do to you. Maybe I’ll tell him. Maybe I won’t. How would Alice react? Would she be furious? Or . . . would she want to join in on the fun? You know, Sam spilled every little detail about their relationship to me. She was so helpful.”

Hugo’s whole body shook.

Sylvia laughed. “I think I touched a nerve. Okay, I’ll leave. I know when playtime is over. But before I go, I want you to do something for me. I want you to let her know it was me. Can you do that for me?”

He didn’t answer.

“Answer me,” she commanded.

“Yes,” he replied.

She laughed, flicking her head so her hair flipped over her shoulder. She leaned in and whispered into his ear. Her breath was torturous with every word.

Hugo's ears perked up as he heard the distinct sound of Alice's footsteps echoing on the gray wooden steps of the porch. The partially open front door gave a glimpse of Alice, frozen in place before she could even knock.

“Hugo!” Alice shouted, freed from her momentary hesitation.

She rushed through the door with Guinevere following.

“Hugo, are you okay?”

She slammed the door shut before darting into the living room.

Hugo remained in the same position as before, his body tense and unmoving. His hands still clutched the seat cushion. He wanted to move, he wanted to talk, but the unseen force still held him in place. His eyes focused on Alice.

Alice moved through the living room with a stunned expression on her face as she examined her surroundings. The candles on the floor, the knocked over bookshelf, and the shattered potted plant. She removed her curved witch’s hat and bent down to pick up the set of keys from her memory shrine. Alice locked eyes with Hugo.

“Hugo, what happened here?” Alice asked.

“Say her name,” Hugo commanded.

“Say whose name?”

“Say her name,” Hugo commanded again.

Alice dropped her hat to the ground, her expression of concern morphing into anger. “Sylvia.”

“Say her name,” Hugo commanded once more.

Alice paused. The grandfather clock ticked and tocked a few times, cutting through the silence of the room. Alice glared at Hugo, her tongue holding back the words she needed to say.

After a pause, she said in a low growl, “Sylvia Savino.”

Hugo sprang up from the couch, the unseen hold relinquishing its compulsion over him.

“I’m going to stab her. I swear, with every fiber in my being, I’ll stab her.” He sprinted out of the room toward the basement door.

“What happened?” Alice asked as she followed him.

“She was in the cellar looking for the spell,” he answered as he bounded down the steps.

The light was still on from when Sylvia had been there .

“How did she get through the door?”

“There was a panicked knock at the door. I thought it was you. She mind-controlled me through the window on the door.”

He rushed across the basement to the open wine cellar door. Hugo stopped, his face sunken as the flickering lights from within illuminated the damage inside.

“Vampires can’t enthrall other vampires. She must have some of your blood from before the transformation . . .” Alice’s words trailed off as she stepped into the entryway.

The cauldron and other items from Alice’s workbench were strewn across the stone floor. The hourglass shattered as its sands spewed into the crevasses of the stone floor. The wine presses smashed. The vats run through with the grape stompers. The bottles awaiting a trip to Ez’s place all broken. The once pristine cellar was now the latest victim of the Savinos’ wrath.

Alice entered with a horrified expression on her face.

“Alice, I’m—” Hugo started. “I’m so sorry. I thought it was you. There were panicked knocks, and your reflection said you were in a panicked state.”

Alice surveyed the damage. Pages torn out of her grimoire and tossed all over. Her apothecary cabinet emptied and contents spilled out. She bent down and picked up one of the cracked mortars Hugo had given her as a Christmas gift.

Hugo lingered over the barren opening in the stone wall, once the hiding spot of The Lovers’ Kiss. “She said she couldn’t find the spell.”

“I moved it,” Alice responded as she turned her attention to the back corner and her special wine rack. The rack containing over a dozen bottles of The Lovers’ Kiss brewed potion lay on the stone floor, each bottle smashed.

“She took one. She showed it to me and took it,” Hugo said. “What about the Raskins? Are they okay?”

“They’re fine. I held off Sebastian. I took out two of their ghouls. ”

“They wanted us separated,” Hugo said. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Grab your stake.” Alice said, turning to Hugo. Revenge spewed forth from her eyes. “This ends tonight.”

“Time to storm the castle?” Hugo asked.

“It’s time to storm the fucking castle!”