His Unidentified & Untouchable Mate

Violent Reflections

Zahraa POV

I stared back at myself from a mirror that had been placed at the end of my entrance hall – but it wasn’t the usual violent, thrashing, begging, pleading reflection I was used to. It was just… me.

I considered running, but I hated to have to call Ingrid just to remove a mirror from my room.

Again.

So I covered my eyes and counted my steps to keep myself calm.

One. Two. Three.

From the bottom of my fingers, I could see the edge of the mirror.

Okay. Keep it calm and –

I reached out and grabbed each side of the mirror, intending to keep my eyes closed. But human nature is a b***h, and when I cracked my eyes to peek, the girl in the mirror was snarling. She reached out – out of the mirror! – and grabbed a fistful of my hair.

The painful yank of hair wasn’t the worst – feelings came through. Awful, biting feelings.

A snake, easily the size of a couch, coiled and striking. Pain blossoming in my arm.

The pain of a man’s touch as his teeth sink into my neck. We thrash together, but neither of us fights to break the contact.

The shame I felt hiding an unusual mark on my chest. For some reason, I hope no one sees it.

The warmth of a woman’s embrace. For some reason, it smells like home.

I pulled myself free and kicked, shattering the mirror. I ran from my apartment full speed, without looking, terror driving my actions – until I ran into someone.

He fell with an oof. Our limbs tangled together, me atop him.

My eyes cleared, and I blushed. “Edgar! I’m so sorry.”

He cautiously helped me up by grabbing my arms, then getting to his feet himself and offering a hand.

I took it, using him to get myself off the ground.

Edgar’s black hair was disheveled, his blue eyes rimmed with dark circles as usual. The dirt from the floor showed very well against his black T-shirt and ripped jeans; something that did not go unnoticed. He dusted himself off, then looked me up and down. “You, uh. You seemed a little freaked. You okay?”

I opened and shut my mouth, then sighed. “There was a mirror in my room.”

His brows raised. “Someone put a mirror in your room? That’s f****d up.”

I nodded, hugging myself. I felt like I was living the plot of a horror movie – it grabbed me. It grabbed me.

“Need some help getting it out?” he asked, and I remembered why I liked Edgar. He was afraid of his own shadow at times, but when he made a friend, he’d go to war for them.

I nodded, fighting back tears.

He noticed, and his expression softened. “Do you need to talk a little, Z? You look… upset.”

Upset was probably the kindest word he could’ve used.

He ducked inside my apartment and for a clumsy few minutes, I shouted where to find the cleaning supplies and he fetched them. While he swept glass shards up, I sat down outside my own door, hugging my knees to my chest, and ranted about everything. About Jacob's cheating, Rowan’s advances, the challenge that no one remembered, everything.

“Do you remember the stupid challenge?” I asked, at last.

Edgar huffed a laugh. “Please. I’m making my weekly ramen run so I can continue not talking to anyone this week. I wouldn’t know anything about it either way.”

I sighed. “Fair point.”

“Mirror is gone, frame and all,” Edgar announced, tying off the bag. He slung it over his shoulder, appearing from the room. He extended his hand to help me up yet again. “If you ever need anything, you can always call me.” He paused, “Not in like a creepy Rowan way. I’m not even sure I like girls, so.” He shrugged.

I laughed, the first genuine laugh I’d had in 48 hours. It felt nice, sure, but it didn’t alleviate the pain. “Thanks Edgar. I owe you one.”

Edgar shook his head, “Nah. You’ve done enough for me over the years. Call this one a freebie.” I smiled again, and he waved. “See ya later. I’ll toss this in the dumpster on my way out.”

“Thanks again,” I called after him. Only when he’d disappeared down the stairs did I duck into my room.

I felt uneasy. Just to check, I opened every door, checked every nook and crevice, and only when I was certain no other mirrors had appeared, I relaxed on the bed. Tears were welling up in my eyes again, and I was about to have my what, fifth? cry session of the last 48 hours when a bubbly ringtone came from my phone – an incoming video call from Alanis.

Ugh. She would video call me at a time like this. I couldn’t lie about being okay when she saw the dark circles under my eyes married with the watery redness of someone on the verge of crying.

I knew Alanis too well though – ignoring the call would only result in 10 more in rapid succession.

I sat up, adjusting myself in bed and hitting the green accept call button. It took a moment for the video to sync, showing anything more than a grainy mess of pixels, but when it focused, I saw Alanis at her makeup table, removing the day's makeup, her hair pushed back by a cloth headband. Behind her, on the bed, Tanis lounged, lying on her back with her head drooped over the bed, watching me upside down.

“Hey girl!” Alanis greeted, cheerfully.

“Hi,” Tanis offered in her usual monotone.

“So, I’m just calling because I talked to Ingrid and she said you sounded a little distressed.” Alanis’s eyes darted from the mirror to me, taking in my expression. She refocused on her mirror and continued, “So, what’s going on? Is Jacob bothering you?”

“No, it’s got nothing to do with him,” I sighed. “I’m just…” the tears welled, but I blinked them away. “Having a really tough time right now.”

“Oh, honey, we know,” Alanis purred. “Do you want to come over, or do you want to keep on the phone?”

“Phone,” I practically moaned. “I feel like hot garbage.”

“Fair enough,” Alanis said, running the makeup removal pad over her chin. “So, what has you down?”

“Ugh.” I groaned, and then – for what had to be the fourth time today – explained about the talks I’d had with Rowan and Jacob, and how they’d somehow magically forgotten the challenge altogether.

Alanis listened patiently, humming agreements here and there. “That’s really rough,” she concluded, in what had to be the most unhelpful way possible. “Maybe you’re just not getting enough sleep?”

I groaned. I mean, I wasn’t, but that didn’t mean I’d made up a whole scenario in my head. It felt too real. Too vivid.

But no one else remembered it. Not Jacob, not Rowan, not anyone else. Which left me as the only source of this information… which meant I was probably sleeping.

I sighed. “You’re right. I haven’t been,” I confessed, “And I really don’t feel like any of it was a dream, but it had to be right? That’s the only explanation.”

Alanis was quick to agree with a distracted “Mm-hm.”

Tanis hesitated. “Well. Maybe.”

Alanis turned in her chair to look at her. “Maybe?”

“Maybe,” Tanis repeated. “I’ve been going to this really neat place downtown lately – sups only, of course. And there have been whispers.”

“Whispers?” I repeated, sitting up. “What kind of whispers?”

“There’s a guy there that can do all kinds of strange magic. Magic that even witches have trouble controlling. Some say it’s ancient, some say it’s forbidden – but they all agree it’s powerful.” She paused, but realized quickly that Alanis and I were enraptured, hanging off her words. “They take their problems to him. I was thinking you might want to see him, Z. I mean, maybe he would know who’s behind the trouble at the pack. Or…” she hesitated, swinging around and sitting up properly on the bed. “…maybe he’d be able to help you find out who you are.”

I swallowed. I tried not to get my hopes up about leads like this – in my lifetime, there had been dozens. Most were circus sideshow acts, a few were traps that almost got me re-kidnapped.

But like a moth to a flame, I asked anyway. “Who is he?”

“They call him the Oracle.”