If Venna or Hiix needed her, they’d yell. Anyone else would have to move the ladder she’d placed crosswise over the hatch aside and hoist themselves. Noise enough to warn her.
Having expended most of her magic to keep her eyes a normal brown, she thought now might be the safest time to more closely examine the shard of mirror. She pulled on gloves before retrieving it from the pouch. She knew it activated by the touch of skin and only appeared to work for the Blessed. Could be she’d be too weak for this to work.
The surface of the mirror was dull, and angling it didn’t make objects appear any clearer. No idea what kind of mirror it came from. The one she’d encountered in her youth had been a handheld, the frame intricate. The man reflected within had seemed surprised to see her.
Agathe had been the one to get rid of it after breaking it. Was this one of those pieces?
She had to wonder if it would even work since it was broken. But then again, what did she have to lose?
She was older now. More experienced. In need of any kind of answers that might help.
Before hesitation could win, she removed a glove and touched the mirror.
Nothing happened. Not at first. So, she held it tighter, pushing at it with the teeny bit of magic left in her.
A tingle moved through her, and the surface of the shard turned cloudy. Swirling and senseless. Useless.
I’m wasting my time.
Then, suddenly, as if a veil had been removed, a face appeared. A beautiful man, his hair layers of silver waves, his face rugged with a square jaw, strong chin, and commanding nose. His skin, smooth perfection. His eyes held pure darkness that did nothing to detract.
When the vhampir smiled, and her tummy turned over not in fear but shivery delight, all she could think was—I’ve made a big mistake.
Chapter Four
Drop the mirror. Break the connection.
Too late, Agathe realized she’d made a grave error, trying to make contact. In her defense, she’d not expected a vhampir on the other side.
Throw it.
It seemed obvious, yet despite her pounding heart and dry mouth, Agathe couldn’t toss the shard. Nor could she look away.
Fixated, she stared and drank in even more detail. For one, despite only catching hints of his surroundings, she could see that the vhampir was in a room with a bed. The light was dim, the source of it unseen. He appeared alone, leaning with casual ease against a wall. The mirror he used must have been hung or propped since he didn’t seem to be holding it.
She brought the shard closer to study the male in its jagged surface. A good thing she recognized his kind. Otherwise, she’d never have suspected the beautiful man of being a monster. One could almost pretend the vhampir was a different kind of human, like the Blessed with their purple eyes and magic. But once a vhampir opened its mouth, a lack of intelligence spilled out. Despite their beauty, they remained bloodthirsty beasts at their core.
She had no doubt that this one would be like the others, even if he had chosen to reside inside someone’s home. Which made her wonder if he was in King’s Valley or somewhere else. Was the vhampir in the Abyss? She’d hate to think that one of them had found a way to hide in their midst.
The vhampir kept staring, his head cocked. She swore he appeared curious. He wasn’t acting as expected, and it made her nervous. She really should break the connection; only her fingers remained glued to the shard. Is he inside my head? Vhampirs had the power to possess a person and make them do pretty much anything, even long after the creature had moved on, leaving behind hidden compulsions with sometimes deadly consequences. She’d always assumed that proximity was required to make the connection. Would seeing each other in a mirror count?
“Hello.” He spoke first, a deep voice to match the face.
She frowned and, in automatic response, also said, “Hello.”
“I see you’ve found the companion mirror.” The statement, coherent enough to be understood, took her aback.
“You can talk.”
“So can you. Anything more obvious you’d like to point out?”
Sarcasm? From a beautiful monster? It had her blurting out, “Who are you?”
“The better question is, who are you? I don’t think we’ve met.” His lips curved, and she quivered.
Annoying. How dare a vhampir make her feel anything other than repugnance? He must be inside her head.
She lifted her chin as she declared, “I am Agathe, daughter of the Shield Goddess.”
“Agathe,” he mused aloud. “Now there’s a name you don’t hear often. Only ever came across it once before, and she also happened to be a Soraer. Serving at the Ninth Abbae, if I recall.”
Her heart just about stopped, but then she smoothly slid in the lie. “You’re speaking of my mother.”
“Agathe was your mother?” he queried. “I thought she died.”
“She did, but she had me before that happened.”
“Interesting. I didn’t know the Soraers bore children.”
“Well, you know how it is sometimes, living all alone most of the time with just women for company. Until a soldier pops in to check on things.” She babbled like an idiot and simply couldn’t stop. “And then months later, you know what happens.” She paused. “Wait, maybe you don’t. Do vhampirs have babies?”
His lips pursed. “My name is Zanir, and we are more alike than you think.”
Doubtful, given she didn’t drink blood or control minds. “How is it you can talk so well?”
“How can you?” he countered.
She blinked. “I’m human. We learn to talk from our family and friends.”
“Isn’t that how all younglings are taught?” he mocked.
A monster making fun of her. She frowned. “Where are you?”
“In my bedroom. Would you like to join me?” The words held a purring note that made Agathe shiver.
“How is it we can talk via a mirror?”
“You tell me. I’m surprised you have enough magic to activate the spell.”
“Me, too.” Then she added quickly, “Magic? What magic?” Because a brown-eyed human would be surprised to hear that it existed.
“That shouldn’t be possible. Your eyes aren’t the right color,” he mused aloud.
She diverted. “Neither are yours.”
He lifted perfectly arched brows, a darker silver than his head. “The deeper the magic, the darker the iris.”
“Only for vhampirs.”
“What would you know of magic, little human girl?”
“Nothing,” she lied.
He snorted. “Yet, here you are, disturbing me in my home.”
“Your home? Who did you steal it from?”
“No one, you ignorant chit. And I am obviously wasting my time talking to you.” He made as if to turn away, and for some reason, she panicked.
“I know more than you think.”
“Really?” Such sarcasm in one word.
What could she say that might have him spilling something she didn’t know? “You said earlier that my eyes are the wrong color because only the Blessed with purple eyes have magic.”
“And?”
She kept babbling. “I know that the lighter the purple gets, the stronger the power. When they turn white, it must be released. And with that release, they change again, becoming purple once more and even brown if too much is spent.”