A sharp splash crashed in her ears as she felt her body depart suddenly from the crushing ocean, hurtling through a wall of water into . . . a room?
Inhaling with a rattling gasp, lungs filling to the brink, Isobel fell, tumbling hard with her savior onto carpet.
A hand grabbed her by the shoulder, and the world swam by in a whir as she was thrown onto her back. She caught a brief glimpse of glittering crystal shards, violet flames, a rolling ceiling of smoke.
Then Varen’s face, drenched and shocked, appeared over her.
Jet hair streaming, electric-green eyes wide and darting, he scoured her form, his expression lit with a mixture of panic and disbelief.
Isobel turned her head away, coughing and sputtering. Behind Varen, the wall undulated and rippled, still liquid at the point through which they’d entered until it snapped solid. As she drew in breath after breath, Isobel took in the sight of ornate gold frames everywhere, each encasing its own fractured glass.
He’d transported them into the mirrored corridor from that morning’s dream.
Along with the green mechanic’s jacket and her own bedraggled, sodden pink dress, Varen’s usual black clothes and coat had returned.
Reflected in every splintered shard of glass, Isobel saw herself and Varen, their pale, drenched faces repeated into infinity by the cracked mirrors that bounced them from one wall to the other and back again.
“You have a reflection,” Varen said between gasps, his tone accusing.
“We,” Isobel wheezed as she sat up, one hand tightening around the hamsa still in her fist, the other clutching his sleeve, “need . . . to leave.”
Varen’s expression changed, his bafflement melding with something that just might have been hope.
“You’re alive,” he breathed. “We both are.”
But before Isobel could answer, a crackling sound drew their attention to the frame-filled wall.
Tink went one of the glass shards as it leaped free of its mirror.
A trail of water poured from the crack.
Tick. Tack. Crack.
More shards sprang from their frames, each releasing its own stream. Trails of water flowed down the wall, soaking the carpet.
“Get up,” Varen ordered as he shot to his feet and, grabbing her, pulled her after him.
Ting. Another shard flicked into the hall, this one unleashing a forceful horizontal spurt. The leaks kept coming, with more frequency now, springing to life with hiss after hiss.
Then the whole wall bowed, emitting a low groan. The legions of reflected Varens and Isobels began to warp with it, ready to buckle under the pressure of the ocean that seemed to have followed them.
The demon, Isobel was sure, would not be far behind.
Tugging her after him, Varen started down the hall at a run, hurrying them toward a gilded archway that filtered into being as they neared the end of the hall. Had he made the escape route for them? Of course, he must have. But where was he taking them?
Isobel fumbled after him on rubber legs, her feet heavy as clubs.
“Wait,” she pleaded.
Pausing, Varen turned to her.
“What are you doing?” he asked as, with quivering hands, Isobel strung the hamsa’s chain around his neck, trying to keep her fingers steady enough to knot the chain, since the clasp had been broken.
“There isn’t ti—”
The walls at the opposite end of the hall blew out their mirrors with an earsplitting crash.
White rapids gushed into the hallway, turning it instantly into a canal.
The torrents raged toward them with a deafening roar, proving Varen’s curtailed warning true: There was no time, no place, to run.
Grasping Isobel close, Varen ducked her head into him.
He swung her away from the approaching floods, shielding her with his body just before the booming waters bowled into them both.
34
Darkness and Decay
WHOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHH.
Cringing, Isobel clung to Varen.
But the floods did not tear them apart as she’d expected.
Instead she and Varen remained standing, unaffected by the wall of water that became something else the moment it met with their joined figures.
Ash.
Cascading past them in a billowing cloud, the dust settled across the hall with a hiss.
A tinkling sound drew Isobel’s gaze upward.
Through the haze, she saw the ash-coated chandelier above them sway.
Then it fell, plummeting straight for them.
Isobel dropped her head. She held tightly to Varen, shutting her eyes in anticipation of the impact that—again—never came. She felt only the spray of dust and knew that he must be the reason why.
