Eternal

16 ~ Girl in the Mirror

What about this one?” I stood in front of a colorful painting, tipping my head to one side as I considered it.

Aidan stepped up behind me, laying a hand on my shoulder. “You like this one?”

I nodded. I couldn’t explain it, not exactly, but something about the image—a girl gazing into a mirror—captured my interest. Her weird, disjointed reflection was discordant with her equally odd figure. Still, I got it. I often felt that way myself. “Yeah, I do. What about y’all? And don’t make fun of me,” I added, seeing Joshua’s mouth widen into a grin. For some unknown reason, he loved to tease me about my Southern accent. “Y’all is a very useful word, you know.”

“Amen to that,” Tyler said. “Yeah, this one’s as good as any. Picasso, right?”

“Wow, you have learned something in class,” I teased. “Go figure.”

“Okay, I’m writing it down.” Joshua took out the checklist Dr. Andrulis had given us when we’d gotten off the bus. “What’s the title?”

Tyler stepped up to the card bearing the painting’s information. “Girl Before a Mirror. From 1932.”

“Ah, a fine year,” Aidan said.

Both Joshua and Tyler turned to face him, looking puzzled.

“What? Young men’s fashions were quite enjoyable then,” Aidan deadpanned. “Way better than the 1950s, trust me.”

I just shook my head, amazed as always at the reminder of Aidan’s extraordinarily long youth.

“Dude, you are so freaking weird,” Tyler said.

“Haters gonna hate,” I said under my breath.

“I heard that.” Tyler’s eyes danced mischievously.

Joshua tapped the paper he was holding with his pen. “Okay, so that’s our painting. Now we have to pick our second project. Want to try the sculpture garden? Or check out some photographs?”

“You think they’ve got a naked picture of Violet’s twin at this museum, too?” Tyler asked with a leer.

“Yeah, what was the deal with that?” Joshua asked.

I just stared at him, caught completely off guard. Truthfully, I hadn’t given Isabel a thought in months. I’d been way too terrified about the future to dwell on the past.

“What?” Joshua asked with a shrug. “I figured it was okay to ask now that Tyler knows the truth. I mean, that was Aidan in the photograph, wasn’t it? At the Met?”

Beside me, Aidan reached for my hand. He looked suddenly pale, his eyes hollow.

“Hey, you okay?” I asked, giving his hand a squeeze. When he didn’t reply, I squeezed harder. “Aidan? What’s going on?”

“She didn’t deserve it, what they did to her,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes had a distant, faraway look. “All because of me. And now . . . I’ve put you in danger too.”

“Shh. I’m not . . . It’s fine. C’mon, do you need to get some air?” I was flustered, surprised that he’d gone from his usual self—laughing and making jokes—to this shell of himself in such a short time.

“Yeah, you look like shit,” Tyler said. “Maybe you just need something to eat.” He must have immediately realized his error, because he visibly recoiled as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Oh yeah. Right. Never mind.”

“Guys, do you mind going on and picking out our second piece? I’m going to take him outside for a few minutes.”

Joshua nodded. “Sure, no problem. Text me when you’re back inside, and we’ll meet up. Take your time, okay?”

I let out a sigh. “Thanks.” Aidan didn’t say a word as I led him outside into the bracing March chill. I found a stone bench, and we sat in silence for several minutes.

“You’ve got to tell me what’s going on, Aidan,” I said at last, unable to bear it for another moment. “Seriously. I’ll just breach your mind if you don’t. You’re starting to scare me.”

When his eyes met mine, they were slightly unfocused. His jaw was clenched, a muscle working furiously. What the hell?

“This is madness,” he said, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t be here. I should never have allowed you to agree—”

“You don’t get to make those decisions for me,” I snapped. “Okay? I need you here. Don’t you get that?”

He was wringing his hands now. “You don’t need me. Isabel certainly didn’t need me. Neither of you deserved the fate to which I’ve sentenced you.”

I reached for his hands, stilling them. “Look, I’m not some helpless little opera dancer, okay? Forget about Isabel—that was a hundred years ago. I’m here now, and I can take care of myself.”

He closed his eyes, looking defeated. “You wouldn’t be in any danger if it weren’t for me.”

I let out an exasperated huff. “I’m a Sâbbat, remember? Which means I’m going to be in danger pretty much my entire life, whether you’re here or not. So what’s your point?”

“And as a Sâbbat, you belong with your Megvéd. Not me. Never me. He can protect you in ways that I cannot.”

“I am with my Megvéd. We’ve been training, you know. We’re prepared to face whatever’s coming our way.”

He shook his head. “You have no idea what you’re going to be up against.”

“And you do?”

“They killed her, Violet.” His voice broke on my name. “And there was nothing I could do, no way I could save her.”

“But that’s not going to happen to me. Okay? You’ve got to believe that.”

I was that girl gazing into the mirror, I realized with a start. When Aidan looked at me, he saw Isabel—or, at least, someone who reminded him of his long-lost love. But the reflection that I saw staring back at me was someone entirely different. Stronger. More powerful.

Would Aidan ever see that girl?

“C’mon, you’ve got to give me some credit here,” I said, taking his hand and laying his palm against my cheek. “Have some faith in me. In Matthew.”

He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “I can’t . . . This is ripping me apart. I shouldn’t be here.”

“This is exactly where you should be, Aidan. Here, with me.”

Several seconds passed in silence, Aidan’s ragged breaths beginning to slow.

Finally, he nodded. “You’re right.”

I turned my face into his palm and kissed it. “Thank you,” I murmured. “You know, you probably shouldn’t have come on this trip. You should still be in the infirmary, resting.”

The light was back in his eyes now. “And send you off alone with Joshua and Tyler? Not a chance.”

I leveled a stare at him. “Seriously? In case you didn’t notice, Joshua and Cece have a thing going now.”

“Oh, I noticed.”

“And Tyler . . .” How could I explain Tyler?

“Yes?” he prodded. “Go on.”

“Well, you know how he is. All talk. And you know what? He’s been a good friend to me these past couple of months.”

“I’m sure he has been.”

I shook my head. “Not like that. He needs us, Aidan. I’d really like you to get to know him better. He is working on your cure.”

“Indeed he is. I can’t for the life of me figure out his ulterior motive. I’m certain he has one, though.”

I decided to ignore that. “Are you ready to go back in?” I asked instead. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m freezing my butt off out here.”

He rose, offering me a hand. “God, Violet, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I stood, wrapping my arms around him. “Warm me up?”

“Always,” he said, lowering his lips to mine.

“I heard Aidan went back to class yesterday,” Matthew said, leaning against his desk. “How’d that go?”

Early for our usual Saturday-morning coaching session, I slumped into the chair across from him. “It was too soon. We took a field trip to MoMA, and I think it was too much for him. I mean, he mostly seems fine. But then someone will say something that just . . . I don’t know . . . affects him weirdly. It’s almost like PTSD or something. He gets this distant look in his eyes, and then he just withdraws. And when I try to drag him back . . .” I trailed off, shaking my head. “He’s suddenly all broody and depressed. You know, like I’m going to die and it’s all his fault. That kind of stuff.”

“Well, there’s no telling what they did to him. You’ve got to expect that he’ll be somehow damaged. For a while, at least.”

I reached up to rub my temples, fighting off a headache. “Yeah, I know. It’s just that we don’t have that much time. Together,” I clarified. “You know, before they send him off to do his Dauphin thing, or whatever.”

“Well, spring break starts next week. Maybe the time away will do him some good.”

“I hope so,” I said on a sigh. Truthfully, I was worried about the trip now. Worried that seeing Whitney would somehow set him back, sending him into a spiraling depression; that Lupe would react badly to his presence; that Aidan and Matthew staying together was a really, really bad idea. There were at least a half dozen things I was worried about, and yet I was excited, too. Talk about crazy.

“You look a little pale,” Matthew said, pushing off his desk and circling around to his chair. “Headache?”

“Yeah. I took something when I got up, but it isn’t helping much.”

“We don’t have to do any training today,” he offered.

“Thanks. I’m feeling a little run-down.”

His dark eyes flooded with concern. “Yeah? Have you seen the nurse? Maybe she can give you some vitamins or something.”

I fought back a smile. “I don’t think vitamins are going to help. But thanks. For the suggestion, I mean.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Are you up for trying something new today?”

“Depends.” I sat up straight, eyeing him curiously. “What did you have in mind?”

“Just testing out our psychic connection. Your birthday’s coming up, after all.”

“Nine more days,” I said with a nod.

“So maybe the bond is strengthening? For starters, I can feel your headache.”

“You can?”

“Yeah, I can. Right here”—he rubbed the same spot on his temples that I’d been rubbing just a few minutes ago—“but worse on the left side. Kind of a pulsing throb.”

He was right. Gooseflesh rose on my skin. “Okay, that’s weird.”

“Right? And I think I’m more in tune with your emotional state, too. Take yesterday, for example. I’m standing there teaching a class, and suddenly for no reason, I feel . . . frustration. For no reason whatsoever.”

“What time? Do you remember?”

“It was the beginning of fourth period. Maybe one-ish?” One fifteen?”

“I was at MoMA then, sitting outside with Aidan. Frustrated that he was all doom and gloom, when fifteen minutes earlier he’d been laughing and joking.”

“Well, I guess that explains it. It was fleeting, though.”

“Yeah, I got over it pretty fast.” We’d stood there in the cold kissing for a good ten minutes before we’d gone back inside and found our group. I hoped Matthew hadn’t felt that.

“So it seems pretty one-sided, doesn’t it? I’m seeing your visions, feeling your pain, and experiencing some of your emotions. But on your end . . . nothing?”

I closed my eyes, searching my instincts, looking for something—a feeling, a sensation—that wasn’t entirely mine. I came up blank. “Not that I’ve noticed. But I don’t know. I’ve been a little preoccupied lately. Maybe I’m just missing it?”

“Well, we can test it. You turn around and close your eyes, okay? Tell me if you feel anything.”

With a nod, I started to turn my chair around before stopping and turning back to face him. “Wait, what are you going to do?”

“If I told you, it would defeat the purpose of the exercise.”

“Yeah, right. Just . . . you know, don’t do anything crazy, okay?” I was feeling suddenly unsettled.

“Hey, you’ve got to trust me, remember? Besides, do I look like I’d do something crazy?”

Before I had a chance to respond, my vision began to tunnel. I gripped the chair beneath me as the room fell away, Matthew’s voice drowned out by the deafening buzz in my ears. Oh no . . .

I was outside, in the woods—a small clearing in the woods. I was disoriented, unsure if I was there at Winterhaven, down by the river, or somewhere else entirely. The sun was just beginning to set between the treetops, cutting wide orange swaths between the shadows.

“Someone call 911!” a voice shouted. “C’mon, we’re losing him!”

It was Matthew shouting, I realized. I took several steps forward and glanced down, saw my friends surrounding a prone form on the ground. Cece was leaning on Sophie’s shoulder, sobbing.

I moved around the crowd, straining my eyes in the fading light, trying desperately to make out the identity of the body lying on the ground, unmoving. Covered in blood. I could smell it, I realized, gagging now.

But whose blood? Panic rose in my breast, cutting off my airway as I struggled to see, watching as Matthew ripped a T-shirt into long strips and tried to stanch the bleeding, cursing as he did so.

Tyler was on his cell, screaming into it, but I couldn’t make out his words. And Kate . . . Kate was kneeling beside the prone body, sobbing.

“C’mon,” she cried. “Stay with us, Jack! You’ve got to stay with us. Don’t leave me, damn it. Don’t—”

And just like that, I was back in Matthew’s office. “Oh my God!” I cried. “Jack. That was Jack.”

“I know,” Matthew said, his eyes slightly wild. “I saw. We won’t let it happen, Violet. We’ll do everything we can to stop it, okay?”

I just nodded, unable to utter a single word.

This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not ever.

Not to one of us.