ã€ŠMonsters in the Hallwaysã€‹


 Mailwoman

    For the record, I am a mailwoman. I deliver mail. I do not interfere with the dark and immoral and possibly murderous. My nerves are like soft butter, quailing at the slightest things. If there was an active murder going on in front of me, I would turn around and walk in the opposite direction because I cannot handle confrontation of any sort.

    Yeah¡­ that didn¡¯t work out.

    You never realize how easy it is to get yourself roped into the scariest adventures until you are already waist-deep in the muck.

    I¡¯ve had my fair share of close brushes with adventure, but every time I¡¯ve deftly managed to avoid it. I didn¡¯t have many friends, I didn¡¯t talk to many people, and most of all, I kept to myself. I ordered my groceries through subscription service, didn¡¯t need a vehicle to maintain, or get food, so I didn¡¯t interact with other people much. Except for the recipients.

    The people I was delivering mail to, were the ones I spoke to the most. They were also the most interesting and suspicious people I have ever met. There was once a Mister Lent I knew, who received three large parcels a week, and his house reeked of sharp (and mildly illegal) oils. I had to call the arson prevention people at the time, and he ended up being arrested. So¡­ yeah.

    And then there was Marie, a girl about my age who had a passion for the arts. I was constantly having to carry giant tins of paint and thinner to her house. Then she had a bombastic fight with her parents, while I was there to deliver one such parcel, and then I got roped into helping her march out of the house with all of her belongings. She ended up sleeping on my couch for a week before she went back home, leaving me windblown and confused.

    But this wasn¡¯t about Mister Lent, or Marie. There was instead another odd recipient who received a lot of parcels from me. He was a tall man with fair skin, a full head of orange-brown hair and a well-groomed moustache. Every time I saw him, he was wearing a pinstriped suit of a different color. I have never seen him repeat outfits.

    He used no name, and only a Customer ID from his favorite clothing brand identified him, so I didn¡¯t know his name, but he lived in the apartment complex of Kingsfold Arch, specifically apartment G-426. But we talked a lot, and he gave me bottles of water when I was out, so I couldn¡¯t not call him something.

    So I came up with Fold.

    He seemed like a down-to-earth guy, with no machinations attached to him. Ha! Shows what I know.

    The day it all went southside, he had three parcels and five letters. Much more than he usually had. Should I have asked him about his catalogue shopping habits?

    Instead of ringing him down to the lobby, I simply went through to his floor directly to save time. We had had tea and drinks before this, and he always told me to come right up anyways. It was less work for me to just leave it on his doorstep.

    The floor Fold lived on, was lined with mirrors. It feels exposing but is also very convenient.

    I was just about to knock on Fold¡¯s door when it swung open and Fold rushed out.

    He was wearing another suit, this time blue with yellow pinstripes. His horn-rimmed glasses were set askew on his nose, and his hair was a mess compared to his usual standards but the extra cream coat over his suit, and the briefcase under his arm spoke of his intention to leave. The fact that he nearly ran into me in his hurry to leave helped too.

    ¡°Ooh, sorry!¡± He cringed, backing away, ¡°Wasn¡¯t expecting you, Maddy.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ hey?¡± I stumbled backwards, ¡°You have mail. Were you going somewhere? Cause I can leave this here, it¡¯s cool. Please sign here?¡±

    ¡°No, no, this is great!¡± He cried, throwing his hands in the air, ¡°Are you free now? Could you do me a solid? I need you to come with me. I¡¯ll pay you fifty dollars for it.¡±

    ¡°¡­Sure.¡± I agreed with little thought, ¡°Are you going to sign for this?¡±

    ¡°Right, of course, of course.¡± He agreed, grabbing a pen from behind his ear to sign it, ¡°Thanks for this, I¡¯ve been looking forward for these. Been months since I ordered them, I totally forgot!¡± He lovingly placed the parcels inside his apartment, closed the door, and properly locked it.

    <hr>

    I was the kind of person who shied away from violence and toughness. I had no business being in this situation.

    So why, oh why, was I letting Fold lead me into the Medley National Theatre surrounded by police tape?

    He seemed to be in his element at that moment, mingling amongst the police and emergency responders as if they were close acquaintances, which was never a good sign. Especially when you weren¡¯t part of the police.

    I must have looked quite a sight as I followed behind him, a mousy girl with eyes as big as dinner plates, hair barely shoved under a newsboy cap and a large messenger bag slung inelegantly over my back. At least the bag was empty, or the weight would have taken my arm off by then.

    Right now, I was technically off-duty. Fold had been my last delivery before I got to go home and stretch out on my new second-hand couch and snack on the hummus and pita chips I had been saving for precisely such a situation. Maybe even indulge in a bubble bath.

    But I wasn¡¯t doing any of that right now. I was following this strange man through the streets of Medley and into the largest theatre in the country, all for the promise of fifty bucks.

    An important policeman with shoulder epaulets waved us over. Well, he waved Fold over, but I was sticking close to the man, so it included me as well.

    ¡°Henry, thank Heavens!¡± The man sighed, patting Fold on the shoulders. His face was flushed and sweating, as if he had been standing in an incredibly humid room, ¡°I had hoped you would answer when I faxed you the situation.¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course, Commish.¡± Fold ¨C Henry, I¡¯m just now realizing ¨C nodded briskly, ¡°And while we¡¯re here, can we discuss your faxing habits? Because a phone call would really be more useful-¡±

    ¡°We can argue later, Henry.¡± The Commissioner waved off without a care, ¡°Right now there¡¯s a crisis afoot and- who¡¯s this?¡± It was only just now that he caught sight of me, standing behind Fold, ¡°A secretary? I thought you didn¡¯t have patience for those?¡±

    Fold shook his head hurriedly, ¡°No, no, Brian. This is my¡­ apprentice, of sorts. She¡¯ll pick up the trade after me, but right now she¡¯s just stuck on grunt work.¡±

    Brian the Commissioner squinted at me, a smile twinkling in his eye, ¡°Is that so?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± I agreed, playing along with Fold¡¯s charade, as if I simply hadn¡¯t been the first person he saw when he charged out of his apartment this afternoon. And also, apprentice?! I was barely a couple years younger than him. I had to fight to keep my composure as I gave the Commissioner a handshake, ¡°Madison Gardner, pleasure to meet you.¡±

    ¡°Well then, Madison, I hope together you two can figure out what happened here.¡± He sighed, deflating with sorrow as he clutched my hand in greeting.

    Right. A murder, I¡¯m guessing, or a mass panic. What was Fold¡¯s job again? It better not be forensics because I was much too squeamish for that.

    ¡°We¡¯re detectives, just so you¡¯re aware.¡± Fold hissed into my ear as we were ushered further inside the building.

    ¡°Are you really a detective, or are you lying just like me?¡± I whispered back.

    ¡°I¡¯m a professional, and now, so are you.¡± He replied, easily staying in stride behind the Commissioner until we were brought to a room backstage with a star on the door. There was a name underneath it, in glittery gold cursive. Celina Minto.

    I knew of her. She was a stunt performer-turned-prima donna. Very well-known in reflection diving spaces for the revival shows she put on every other month.

    ¡­I had a suspicious feeling that Fold hadn¡¯t brought me here because I was the only person willing to help him.

    The door swung open to reveal a dressing room. A simple, heavily adorned dressing room, with all the normal fan-bouquets, light-studded mirrors, and costume racks. Not a ruffle out of place, except for the makeup table right in front of the mirror.

    The makeup table.

    It was splattered with blood, all the pigments and swabs ruined forever with thick, clotted blood which looked as if it had been doused onto the desk with a hose. And to top off the decoration piece, there was a single high-heeled shoe standing above it all. The foot still inside, hacked off from the leg a few inches above the ankle.

    There was no source, no tracks, not even any trace of the leg which the foot had been attached to.

    ¡°It¡¯s really a conundrum.¡± The Commissioner stammered out, wringing his hands, ¡°The door was locked the entire time, Celina, or what¡¯s left of her, is nowhere to be found. There¡¯s no evidence for us to go on at all.¡±

    Fold nodded, a hum rumbling deep in his chest as he surveyed the crime scene. I had had my doubts about his veracity as a detective, but there was experience and knowledge in his eyes as he took it all in, picking out minutia in the crime scene, surveying every exit and considering possibilities most hardened policemen would not. It was all for naught, though. Just a pretty show with nothing to come of it. I mean, a locked room? This sort of thing was made to stump anyone who wasn¡¯t a Sherlockian genius.

    ¡°Commish, I think we may need to examine the room in private.¡± Fold finally announced.

    The Commissioner nodded as if this was a reasonable request that was made of him every day, ¡°Work your magic, Maximillian.¡±

    The door clicked shut behind us, and I twitched in annoyance, ¡°Henry Maximillian? That¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°Indeed it is.¡± Fold agreed, already flipping through a notebook he had fished from his pocket, ¡°Why? Were you referring to me by something else?¡±

    ¡°¡­Fold.¡± I admitted, shyly.

    He barked out a laugh, ¡°I like that. I¡¯m terrible at poker, too, so the name is quite fitting.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re laughing.¡± I stared at him, the crimson mess on the table boring holes into the side of my head, ¡°Someone died in this room and you¡¯re laughing?¡±

    ¡°If you really think about, every patch of land in the country has had someone die on it at some point.¡± Fold shrugged, ¡°Are you saying we can¡¯t laugh anywhere?¡± I glared at him, already feeling a headache rising. He caught onto my exasperation quickly, ¡°And besides, I bet you¡¯ve already figured it out.¡±

    Ha, good man. I looked around the room carefully, taking stock of all the entry points. The door was impossible, as it had been locked. The vent would require someone of unimaginably small proportions. There was the dumbwaiter for food, but it had been cut out, its rope hanging limply on its own.

    All these details were inconsequential.

    ¡°It¡¯s obvious, isn¡¯t it?¡± I shrugged, trying not to betray how perturbed I felt, ¡°The killer came in through the mirror.¡±

    He shot me a pair of finger guns, ¡°Bingo. See where you come in?¡± I was starting to get an idea.

    Reflection-hopping is a mode of transportation like any other. It takes a little more magic charms and a lot more practice, and looks fantastical, but in the end, it is about as crazy as a skateboard. If a skateboard could instantaneously transport you to a pocket dimension where you could slip between any reflection in the world.

    I started reflection-hopping young. Must have been, what? Six? Seven? My dad left his charms lying out, and we had a full-length mirror on our wardrobe door, and one thing led to another and suddenly I was lying next to a mountaintop lake on the other side of the world.

    But since then, it had all been more responsible. I used it to deliver parcels faster, to cut down on commute times and all that jazz. Fairly innocent stuff.

    Except reflection-hopping had the ability to be dangerous. It could be used to attack, spy, or kill. People came to realize that quickly after its unearthing. While there were those who simply used it as a fun hobby or gimmick, reflection-hopping communities were rampant with assassins, mercenaries, and spies of the worst kind.

    And one of them had gone and offed Celina Minto, musical theatre¡¯s rising stars.

    ¡°You brought me here because you¡¯ve seen me going in and out of the mirrors when dropping your parcels.¡± I realized.

    ¡°Pretty much. I figured I could use the expertise of someone who actually knows what they¡¯re doing.¡± Fold explained, ¡°This sort of thing¡­ is kind of out of my ballpark.¡±

    A woman was dead. I could help bring the perpetrator to justice. I squared my shoulders and nodded, ¡°I¡¯ll do my best. What¡¯re we dealing with?¡±

    ¡°It has been barely more than seven hours since the attack.¡± Fold explained, pacing around me as he declared the facts, reading directly from his little notebook, ¡°Any idea where they could¡¯ve gone to in that time?¡±

    Okay, this was it, I summoned up my courage, trying to run through all the information I had gathered in all my sixteen years of reflection-hopping to catch the killer. Trying not to think of the dead, mutilated body they must be carting around. Urgh, I was going to throw up.

    ¡°They could be just about anywhere.¡± I tried to fight down my squeamishness, ¡°But their options would be severely limited than most, because the size of the body would stop them from escaping through the narrower reflective surfaces.¡± He didn¡¯t ask for the next bit, but I added my own two cents as well, ¡°They were also seasoned veterans, because they never left the mirror during the attack. They must have done it all inside the hallways.¡±

    ¡°Hallways?¡± Fold frowned.

    ¡°The pocket dimension of reflections.¡± I explained, ¡°It comes in the form of kaleidoscopic hallways.¡±

    ¡°Right, right, I¡¯ve seen pictures, but they were never quite right about portraying the depth of it all.¡± He hummed, a light in his eyes, ¡°A hallway. How ominous! You think you could look around and see if they left any evidence in these hallways?¡±

    I wanted to ask him what was ominous about a hallway, but I decided to stick to the operation at hand. It was an awkward process of pushing a spindly chair close to the dressing table, sticking a foot over the blood-covered mess, and then slipping deep into the reflective surface, as if it was a liquid membrane and not solid glass.

    On the other side of things, I fell in a disheveled heap, my entrance clumsy from the beginning. Thankfully, there was no pool of blood, otherwise I would have screamed myself sick.

    In fact, there was no sign of any murder at all.

    This was unusual. To me, the mirror hallways looked about the same everywhere I went. They had the same endless bends and turns leading to nowhere and everywhere, all glistening in different colors of the rainbow, and shifting ever so slightly in a way that drove a person to madness. But there was still some consistency. Things you left in the hallways as place markers never vanished. Didn¡¯t even so much as shift. When I was in freshman year, I dropped a corsage in the hallway near my dresser mirror. Skip to senior year, while I was wandering around for a way to get back inside, and I found that corsage again, in the same place I left it, not even wilted.

    I had seen the mess left behind by the killers of Celina, up close and personal. If they had been so unbothered by leaving evidence there, why would they bother staging a cleaning operation in the lawless pocket dimension?

    No way did the blood just vanish. There was more at play.

    I crept up to the walls next, trying to see for smudges or smear in their silky glass images. The walls were always disorienting to look at. Every shard and angle made up a different reflection somewhere in the real world and provided a glimpse into it. From fuzzy upside-down images taken from spoons, to large expanses of wall-to-wall views into dance studios, you could see it all if you wandered through the hallways for long enough.

    The constantly moving tapestry of color did well to hide the few marks left behind, but I still caught them. Was it a trap? Most definitely. But still¡­

    I ducked back towards the mirror I had come in from, where Fold still peered in curiously, and put my head through the silky liquid mirror space. Instantly, I was filled with a rush of inertia, willing me to jump out of the mirror, but I held my ground against it. Usually I couldn¡¯t do this, but the macabre display under my nose made me gather the willpower to stop in my tracks. I was not jumping in there.

    ¡°You¡¯re back.¡± Fold sighed in relief, ¡°See anything useful in there?¡±

    ¡°Barely.¡± I replied, ¡°Seems to be a trail of something, left behind.¡±

    ¡°Well what¡¯re you waiting for? Follow it!¡± He told me sharply.

    ¡°¡­What if there¡¯s blood?¡± I asked, fighting the urge to wring my hands. The slightest movement could knock me out of the mirror and into the blood. A crease appeared in the middle of his eyebrows.

    ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯re looking for.¡± He replied patiently, as if fighting down the urge to scream.

    ¡°Right, of course, of course.¡± I agreed, going back inside the mirror. Needles rippled along my skin as I walked through the hallways. It was always unnaturally quiet in here, but it wasn¡¯t silent. Just¡­ muffled, as if happening underwater.

    Even stomping as hard as you could on the ground, only quiet thuds came out. Trust me, I tried as hard as I could.

    This was obviously a trap, I knew. Fold probably knew too. But I followed the smears of blood into the funeral-quiet hallway anyway.

    One bend and then another, a left, a right, two more. A ramp going downwards, followed by a quick spiral upwards lined by imprints of puddles and blind spot corner mirror.

    Still, traces of blood were left here and there on the walls, standing stark amongst the muddy background. Wherever these reflections were from, it was raining heavily there. Sorry, I was only trying to distract myself from what I was expecting to find. It was working well, too, until I found the body.

    There was no killer. Just the body of angelic Celina Minto, lying prone on the ground. She was stone cold, and pale as the moon, drained completely of all her blood. I wonder if every drop had ended up on the dressing table, or if the killers had bled her out before this.

    That wasn¡¯t the only thing. Her leg was missing, too, scarred up more on this side, with gashes lining up the wound that almost looked like¡­ a bite wound. Not multiple bites. A singular, jagged row of teeth which had ripped her leg off in one fell swoop.

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    Yep, bile was coming up. I was only able to stagger away from the crime scene and throw up a safe distance from it.

    Something had been gnawing on the body.

    <hr>

    I rushed back to the Medley theater in a panic, almost losing the trail I had memorized. One wrong move, and I would¡¯ve ended up a fugitive in another country.

    But thankfully, I managed to get to the theater in one piece. Instead of leaving through the blood-spattered dressing room mirror, I had the foresight to pop out through another dressing room, scaring the shit out of an investigating officer.

    They immediately pulled out a gun as I staggered out of the mirror, hugging my stomach.

    ¡°What¡¯re you doing here, miss?¡± They demanded, gun shaking in their grasp, ¡°This is a closed investigation, which you should not be trespassing in!¡±

    I lurched backwards, trying to wipe away at a leftover strand of puke dripping from my mouth.

    Fold rushed in at the last second, waving outrageously, ¡°No trespassers, Sam, she¡¯s been approved!¡± He explained, pulling me behind him. I followed, staggering on the spot.

    ¡°And who would she be?¡± Officer Sam asked, lowering their gun with much reluctance.

    ¡°Madison.¡± I croaked, ¡°Maximillian called me in as a reflection-hopping specialist?¡±

    ¡°That I did.¡± Fold agreed.

    Officer Sam sighed and stuck their gun back into its holster, ¡°If you¡¯re sure¡­¡± They allowed, giving me a wary look.

    ¡°Great. Glad to have that handled.¡± Fold nodded pleasantly, ¡°Now, Maddy, have you got something for me? Any useful ideas about our escaped perps?¡±

    ¡°Well, I found the body.¡± I offered, sickly green veiling over my sight for a second, ¡°Does that help?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s simply splendid!¡± He clasped his hands together, ¡°I need to grab some samples, scan for fingerprints, maybe look for- wait. Can I do the mirror-jumping thing?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, can you?¡± I retorted, feeling entitled to a little bit of prickliness after my arduous misadventure in the hallways.

    ¡°You certainly cannot, given that you don¡¯t have the harness required to pull off a trick like that safely.¡± Officer Sam interjected with a frown, ¡°And it takes three months of training at the very least to be able to do it effectively. And that¡¯s how long it took the greats to pull it off.¡±

    Fold frowned and tapped his chin, ¡°Well, that¡¯s a dead-end, then.¡± He sighed, ¡°I don¡¯t suppose the police department will have anyone willing to act as a proxy to me?¡±

    ¡°We may have¡­¡± Officer Sam thought it over, ¡°I¡¯ll have to ask the Commissioner, though.¡±

    ¡°Oh, and one other thing.¡± I spoke up, gulping when all the eyes turned towards me, ¡°The body¡­ it looked.¡± My stomach churned at the mere memory. I could barely force the words out, ¡°Eaten.¡±

    Officer Sam threw their head back and sighed, ¡°Brilliant. Mirror walking cannibals. Exactly what the world needs.¡±

    ¡°What if it wasn¡¯t?¡± I whispered.

    ¡°Well, it certainly wasn¡¯t an animal, was it? We¡¯ve tried a million times with the smartest of animals and not even an octopus can manage it. It had to be a human or zilch.¡±

    Fold frowned, ¡°Hold on there, Sam, maybe the kid¡¯s got a point.¡± He rose to my defense.

    Before the argument could get more heated, the Commissioner burst through the doors. Everyone fell silent in deference to him as he looked around.

    ¡°I heard yelling.¡± He explained breathlessly, ¡°Did you find the body?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir, in the mirror world.¡± Fold agreed, stepping forward immediately, before even Officer Sam had the chance to respond.

    Commissioner Brian¡¯s eyes widened in surprise, ¡°You can reflection-hop, Henry?¡± He asked, ¡°How come you never mentioned?¡±

    ¡°Oh, not me, Ms. Maddy Gardner here.¡± He explained, waving an arm towards me, ¡°I¡¯m not ashamed to admit she¡¯s more adept at it than me.¡±

    ¡°Good girl.¡± The Commissioner nodded, ruffling my hair affectionately. I softly moved out of his grabbing range, but he didn¡¯t seem to mind as he continued his observations, ¡°It¡¯s an obscenely useful skill for a future detective.¡±

    Right. Because the strange man living in Apartment G-426, Kingsfold Arch was a detective. And he was pretending that I was his apprentice to sneak me into this crime scene of a theatre. I didn¡¯t point out any of those things. Simply smiled and nodded.

    ¡°Not to worry, we have an entryway back at the precinct that doesn¡¯t require proper training.¡± Commissioner Brian continued, ¡°If our friend Maddy here can lead us back to the place where the body was kept, then we can work up from there.¡±

    I paused, thinking his words over, ¡°Wait, what does that mean?¡±

    ¡°An entryway.¡± Officer Sam replied, ¡°I¡¯m surprised that you wouldn¡¯t know, if you¡¯re so big in reflection-hopping art?¡± They mimed a shocked gasp, ¡°Oh, wait, you¡¯re not in law enforcement, are you? You wouldn¡¯t have heard of this before now. It¡¯s top-secret info.¡±

    ¡°Hey there, she¡¯s a member of the team. A little green, but she¡¯s got a lot of potential.¡± Fold nodded, putting a hand on my shoulder, ¡°Make her feel comfortable.¡±

    ¡°What team?¡± Commissioner Brian asked, ¡°You¡¯re an independent consultant we call in sometimes.¡±

    ¡°My team.¡± Fold insisted, ¡°I am a high-profile detective that everyone wants and I have a whole fleet of managers monitoring all my requests.¡±

    ¡°You live in a two-room apartment and only get mail from your mother and delivery companies.¡± I told him drily, ¡°There¡¯s no team of managers.¡±

    Officer Sam snorted as Fold straightened his collar, ¡°Can we stop talking now?¡± He asked, ¡°Crimes to solve and stuff. Professional things.¡±

    ¡°Yes, please, we¡¯re already paying you by the hour.¡± The Commissioner agreed, running a hand through his hair, ¡°Are you driving with us?¡±

    Fold wrung his hands, ¡°I don¡¯t use cars. Usually just walk everywhere-¡±

    ¡°My feet are killing me; I¡¯m getting on that car whether you like it or not.¡± I replied, crossing my arms and glaring him down. I could be soaking in the bathtub back home right now, but I wasn¡¯t. And he was going to have to pay for it.

    He sighed, shoulders slumping down, ¡°Fine.¡±

    I brushed past him and began heading outside. Could I ask Fold to pay me for this? It was really hard labor. Not to mention the psychological damage I had already gone through. I was a mailwoman. And I worked minimum wage. Rent needed to be covered. It¡¯s simple capitalism.

    Fold sulked in the corner of the car the entire while, while I made sure to bag the window seat. I¡¯ve never been to the police precinct. Most people haven¡¯t. My mother used to say that the only people who would be at a police precinct were bad people.

    But a woman was dead, and I had to step up.

    I was led through the bullpen and into a vault at the back. Commissioner Fold entered a code, followed by an iris scan, and then a voice-matching protocol. It took more than five minutes for the vault doors to clunk open. Fold and I exchanged exasperated looks.

    ¡°You kinda snatched me out of nowhere.¡± I whispered to him, ¡°Are we going to hash out the details of what you even want me to do?¡±

    He nodded feverishly, ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll get on it eventually. Outside of where we¡¯re being recorded.¡± I looked away from him, instead turning to go inside the vault.

    Massive overhead lights flickered to life slowly, revealing a massive hangar-like space with white tiles on the floors and walls. On the opposite side of the wall, a circular gate had been fixed into the wall. A portal straight from the movies. It¡¯s never a good idea to bring those things to life.

    ¡°You sure this is a good idea?¡± I asked, meaning to whisper, but the acoustics of the room reflected it all over the room. Fold winced as everyone turned to look at us.

    ¡°Not to worry, Ms. Gardner.¡± Commissioner Brian tipped his hat towards me, ¡°This has been experimented on carefully. Everything from rats to human test subjects have made it through, when they could not do so with regular reflection-hopping charms.¡±

    I hummed in acknowledgement. I wasn¡¯t convinced at all, but it was okay if I played along with it. Fold certainly seemed to be falling in line when it came to this. And I may not have known much about him, but he gave the impression of someone who kicks up a fuss when they disagreed with something.

    ¡°We doing this?¡± I asked, just to clear it with him. Fold nodded sharply. Okay then, the gauntlet had been thrown.

    Officers moved around purposefully, attending to control panels and working on the portal. Officer Sam wandered off to monitor some of the readings and hit a large button on the main control. A low whine filled the air, and the circular gate was wrenched open to reveal¡­ a mirror.

    Except it wasn¡¯t just an ordinary mirror. It was moving and rippling, so that no clear image was reflected to us. It was also¡­ oddly translucent, at certain angles. It put my teeth on edge. This thing wasn¡¯t safe, no matter what they claimed.

    ¡°Okay, who¡¯s going first?¡± Commissioner Brian asked, ¡°I¡¯ll need to come along to keep an eye on you, but let¡¯s try to keep the squad count low.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll observe from outside.¡± Officer Sam told him, adjusting some of the spectrograms for better reading, ¡°We¡¯ll need a police detective to go along, too, because I¡¯m still not sure about Maximillian¡¯s methods.¡±

    ¡°But I still keep getting hired, isn¡¯t that odd?¡± Fold snorted. More than a few officers rolled their eyes and scoffed at him.

    Commissioner Brian wiped a hand down his face, ¡°Animosity aside, we need one more person to join us on our excursion.¡± He told the people gathered there, ¡°Who¡¯s up for it?¡±

    I looked around. No one seemed to be as eager as they should be when offered a chance to experience a world they would never get to otherwise. Had something happened during these ¡®tests¡¯? It made me suspicious.

    ¡°Oh, what the hell, I¡¯m in.¡± A relaxed voice called out. I craned my head backwards to catch a glance of the person who had spoken up. It was a fresh-faced police officer, looking young for this place. A sheen of naivete that had been missing from the eyes of every other person here.

    He elbowed his way through the crowd to raise his hand towards me for a shake, ¡°Hey, Madison, right? I¡¯ve dabbled in reflection-hopping too, so I¡¯m hoping it¡¯ll come in handy now.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s hope it does.¡± I agreed, gingerly shaking his hand. It was uncomfortably clammy, ¡°Who¡¯re you, anyways?¡±

    He wasn¡¯t wearing a police uniform like the rest of them. Instead, he was in plainclothes, a white undershirt with an open black blazer on top.

    ¡°Dave is a rookie fireman.¡± One of the people manning the control panels explained, ¡°Fishing for a promotion, isn¡¯t he?¡± Laughs rippled around the room as Dave grinned shamelessly. I could see how he was a fireman, with a scrawny but muscular build. Now that I was paying attention, I could see the shiny burns and miniscule splinter cuts adorning his skin.

    ¡°Maybe I want to get to see what this mirror world is like.¡± He shot back, ¡°See what this place I¡¯m training to go to is like. Do you have actual transportation charms?¡± He turned to look at me hopefully.

    I rolled my sleeves back to reveal the black ink spiraling over them, ¡°I tattooed them on.¡± I explained as he stared at them awestruck.

    ¡°So cool!¡± He fawned, fingers carefully trailing over the patterns.

    ¡°When I asked for volunteers, I meant from the police force.¡± Commissioner Brian frowned, ¡°You¡¯re not police.¡±

    ¡°Hey, we¡¯re both public servants, aren¡¯t we?¡± Dave replied as I rolled my sleeves back down, ¡°And I didn¡¯t see any officers standing up to take the role.¡±

    Commissioner Brian¡¯s face twitched in a way I could tell was trouble. We should probably try to smooth over his ire before we were all dependent on his device to keep us alive.

    ¡°Fine.¡± He ground out, ¡°Grab some of the beta charms, and we¡¯ll set out immediately.¡±

    Dave saluted excitedly and darted away.

    The beta charms I was familiar with were stick-ons, much like regular reflection-hopping charms. Not these. These were bulky padded patches that were attached to the body using suction cups and lit up brightly once activated. Dave and Fold put them on without complaint, but I was very much unconvinced about their effectiveness. Good charms were a must. That was why I had moved on to tattoo versions, when reliable charms had started losing quality. I watched with thinly veiled interest as they went through the painstaking process of applying the charms on both arms and legs. Much more intensive than the ones I had gotten used to wearing.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be able to lead us back to the place, right?¡± Fold asked, sauntering up to me, ¡°Like, the landscape won¡¯t change or anything?¡±

    ¡°Of course it will.¡± I refuted, ¡°The hallways shift all the time. It¡¯s kind of a given.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± He asked, looking about ready to tear his hair out, ¡°Are you trying to make me look stupid?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t even worry about.¡± I reassured him, ¡°The routes shift immediately, but it moves along with you if you know what you¡¯re doing. It¡¯ll take us right to the scene.¡±

    He frowned uncertainly, ¡°If you¡¯re sure¡­¡± He replied, thinking aloud when he continued, ¡°But if the landscape changes at the drop of a hat, how did the perpetrator¡¯s marks stay constant?¡±

    I froze. He was right. It didn¡¯t make any sense. How did that happen?

    Was this playing into their plans? Had this been a plot crafted specifically by people who knew the mirror hallways better than me?

    But I couldn¡¯t show my doubts so easily. That would be showing my limited knowledge in a field of study they were relying on me to figure it out. So instead, I squared my shoulders.

    ¡°Let¡¯s not look a gift horse in the mouth, okay? Maybe they messed up somehow. Maybe the hallways wanted me to find it. We won¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying the hallways are sentient?¡± Fold asked, pressing even more, ¡°With some telepathic ability, too, if we consider the fact that they automatically help you find the place you¡¯re looking for¡­¡±

    ¡°Could you stop?¡± I frowned, ¡°You¡¯re making stuff up to worry about.¡±

    ¡°Am I, though?¡± He pointed out, teeth worrying his bottom lip. ¡°We need to be prepared for any possibility.¡±

    ¡°Well, what I¡¯m hearing is that you¡¯re under the impression that the halls are an eldritch abomination.¡± I replied, ¡°Which it isn¡¯t. It¡¯s really very normal.¡±

    He sighed, shrinking into himself, ¡°Well, since you¡¯re the expert.¡± He teased, pressing down on the suction cups of the charm on his right arm, ¡°Let¡¯s head in, shall we?¡±

    I pause for a second. Backing out would be easy, wouldn¡¯t it? I could just say know and not go into the scary hell portal and let them go at it alone.

    But I didn¡¯t. And was it a bad thing that Celina Minto didn¡¯t even factor into any of the reasons I stayed?

    <hr>

    Passing through the portal wasn¡¯t much different from regular reflection-jumping. It was lighter, I supposed. The portal wasn¡¯t fighting me at all, like an unwanted intrusion. Instead, it seemed to be sucking me in without any hesitancy. It was unnerving.

    Not only that, but there was an undercurrent of electricity permeating the entire place. It tingled across my skin, making my hair stand on end. That certainly wasn¡¯t there in regular reflection-jumping.

    ¡°Woah¡­¡± Dave squealed, looking around, ¡°This place looks better than the drawings made it look!¡±

    Right, because cameras went on the fritz while inside the hallways and refused to take proper pictures, the outside world was restricted to only being able to see artist¡¯s renditions of the hallways. It was such a shame, because no matter how they tried, it was always missing that characteristic something.

    ¡°It is nothing like I imagined.¡± Fold muttered, a glaze of wonder going over his eyes as he took it all in, before glancing at me, ¡°And you come here all the time to transport packages?¡±

    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t diss the lifestyle.¡± I scoffed, ¡°It¡¯s fulfilling. And that¡¯s how we met, so you should really be thanking me.¡±

    ¡°Of course, I¡¯m thankful!¡± Fold squawked, ¡°C¡¯mon and start leading the way, already. The body could be rotting already. We don¡¯t have time to be wasting like this!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. It¡¯s locked in stasis.¡± Dave and I both corrected him at the same time. He stared at me, startled for a second, until I laughed.

    ¡°I constantly have to tell people that!¡± I told him, making him loosen up and giggle with me.

    ¡°Yes, yes, we normies are all dumbasses.¡± Fold rolled his eyes, ¡°Now do your job, Maddy, and lead us.¡±

    <hr>

    Despite all the doubts, I managed to lead them directly to the body of the late Celina Minto.

    Seeing it again was no better than the first time. It still made me feel faint to stare at her, lying there like Snow White. If Snow White had a leg chewed off.

    It was a grotesque sight, and I was worried if I was just being overly dramatic, but the second Dave¡¯s eyes landed on the thing, I was validated by the way he gagged and turned away. Fold and the Commissioner handled it with much more grace, but I was certain that they too felt the gravity of the situation.

    ¡°Was the vomit there when you came?¡± Fold asked, eyeing the puddle with interest, ¡°If it belongs to the perpetrators or some unknown third party, we could analyze the contents and figure-¡±

    ¡°No, that was me.¡± I muttered, face red. He had the audacity to laugh in my face.

    ¡°I keep forgetting how green you are.¡± He shook his head, quickly sobering back up, ¡°But we shouldn¡¯t make light in front of the dead. It¡¯s disrespectful.¡±

    ¡°What do you make of all this, Henry?¡± Commissioner Brian asked, taking pictures of the crime scene with his camera, ¡°First glance hypotheses?¡±

    A couple seconds of silence as Fold carefully lifted one of Celina¡¯s arms up, testing how far rigor mortis had travelled. The answer was not much. The body had been pulled in almost immediately after death, so decay never set in at all. That¡¯s what he got for not listening to me.

    ¡°¡­You¡¯re going to call me crazy.¡± He finally announced, ¡°But let¡¯s review the facts, shall we?¡±

    I felt trepidation rise inside of me as I watched him begin to pace the length of the crime scene, little notebook in hand as he lectured the room as a whole, ¡°The woman was snatched up out of nowhere. She has no known enemies or scandals and was generally adored by everyone who crossed paths with her. No motive from anyone to kill her. Especially not in a way as flashy as a ¡®locked room with a mirror in it¡¯ scenario that has haunted the world and cast reflection-hopping in a bad light for decades now. Furthermore, she appears to have been partially eaten by something with extraordinarily large teeth, even though this space is considered inaccessible to anything not human. How strange.¡±

    The trepidation was becoming more intense. I frowned and made to interrupt him, ¡°Hey now, I think we talked about this-¡±

    ¡°No, let me finish.¡± He continued sharply, ¡°This world as a whole has been suggested to have telepathic properties not just by various scholars and anonymous resources, but also an in-person admission. So¡­ I know this sounds impossible, but we may have to consider¡­¡±

    ¡°Mirrors can¡¯t eat people, Fold.¡± I told him, exasperation reaching brand new levels, ¡°That¡¯s actually impossible.¡±

    ¡°Here you go, throwing out perfectly plausible answers!¡± Fold threw his hands up, ¡°Didn¡¯t even give me any time to justify yourself.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve actually been justifying yourself before you even said what you thought was going on, which means you knew how ridiculous this was.¡± Dave added, shrinking down from the attention, ¡°Like, just putting it out there. Not picking a side at all.¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re doing a very bad job at it.¡± Fold told him.

    The Commissioner sighed, ¡°This is going nowhere, Henry.¡± He told him, ¡°I thought that I could count on you for your intuition, but if these are the kinds of theories you have to offer, then I think we¡¯re better off asking the detectives in the force for help.¡±

    ¡°Wait, you don¡¯t have to do that!¡± He spluttered, ¡°Please, let me take some time to gather all my sources but you¡¯ll find the evidence is actually quite compelling¡­¡±

    ¡°Dave, please help me move the cadaver back to the precinct.¡± Commissioner Brian shook his head, ¡°I¡¯ll let you use our entry gate to leave the place, son, but from now on, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a good idea to expose you to all these things. It¡¯s clearly affecting your mental state and wellbeing.¡±

    Oof, that had to hurt. I cringed just by having to watch it, and judging by Dave¡¯s grimace, I wasn¡¯t alone. We should exchange contact information or something, because this level of instant ¡®click¡¯ only happened in movies.

    Fold bowed his head a little, looking so woeful, even I had to feel for the guy.

    ¡°You okay?¡± I asked, sticking close to him even as Dave and Commissioner Brian opened the stretcher to load late Celina Minto into it.

    ¡°Yeah, I just-¡± He sniffed. Oh god, was he crying? I¡¯m not good with criers, ¡°I just really believed in this.¡±

    Personally, I didn¡¯t buy the whole ¡®man-eating monsters in the mirrorverse¡¯ story. It had been cooked up in a slasher horror, in my opinion, and I wasn¡¯t going to lie to Fold about that. I¡¯m sure he would be more hurt by the fact that I was simply humoring him if the truth ever came out anyway.

    ¡°Listen, man, that sucks.¡± I said instead, ¡°Why¡¯re you even so fixated on it?¡±

    Even if lying was a bad idea, this was still a wrong option. Vengeful fire lit up in his eyes as he stared at me and began to rant, ¡°Why aren¡¯t you fixated on it? An innocent woman died. And you don¡¯t even give a shit, already acting as if it didn¡¯t happen. Not concerned in the slightest about bringing her to justice.¡±

    He marched ahead without me, straight through the hallway, out of the portal, and then out of the precinct, almost in a blind rage as I followed desperately after him. Sure, I didn¡¯t even know his name until three hours ago, but I considered Fold a friend of mine. And I didn¡¯t have many, so I couldn¡¯t afford to lose one over something so damn fixable.

    No matter how blinded he was by his anger, though, it was impossible to miss the armada of reporters camped outside the precinct, all clamoring desperately for answers and attention.

    ¡°Hey, Mister, are you on the Minto Case?¡±

    ¡°Could you tell us about where the rest of her body is?¡±

    ¡°Is it true that reflection-hopper magic was involved in this?¡±

    ¡°Please, an exclusive, Commissioner!¡±

    ¡°Are you going to be cracking down on reflection-hoppers from now on?¡±

    It was like a storm of questions were cascading on top of me, nearly burying me alive with their metaphorical weight. And very physical volume.

    ¡°Sorry, ¡®scuse me.¡± I muttered, trying to elbow past them, ¡°I¡¯m just the mail girl, I swear.¡±

    <hr>

    I do part-time jobs where I can fit them in around the mail job. It¡¯s hard, considering the fact that mail delivery is a very demanding schedule, but I make it work. Newspapers are my favorite go-to whenever I need to make a couple extra bucks.

    Because of this, the first thing I read every morning would inevitably be the headlines. Whether I wanted to or not, I simply had to keep up with the ongoing saga of Celina Minto¡¯s death.

    It got petty, at first. Reporters taking pot shots at each other and witnesses all implicating each other. But then fans started forming hoards to chase after the latest suspect. Then it became violent.

    I didn¡¯t particularly care much. It was a weird day, for sure, but I had weird days all the time. Sometimes I still found Marie¡¯s clothes in my wardrobe to prove that. This didn¡¯t have to become a big deal.

    And then one day I stepped into the hallways, and found myself surrounded by whiteness and red lettering. Someone ¨C no, a lot of someones ¨C had hung up banners all over their mirrors. Who even does that?

    People who wanted to be heard by the ones on the other side of that mirror, apparently, because the words would forever be etched into my mind wherever I went. Bearing down on me as I tried to take parcels around. Just bouncing around and making their presence felt.

    No Tolerance to Smoke and Mirrors ¨C Support Action 210!

    Action 210 was a proposed bill working to force reflection-hopping into being outlawed. Production and possession of charms would be criminalized, all research into it would grind to a halt, and humanity¡¯s greatest discovery would simply. Cease to exist.

    I¡¯m not a political person. I simply want to keep my head down and my voice low. There are a lot of things that I don¡¯t want to be bothered with doing. But sometimes you don¡¯t get a say in the matter. Sometimes you have to take a stand. Even if I seriously doubted the hallways had come to life and were now eating people, I knew what I saw. Whatever had taken that bite out of Celina Minto hadn¡¯t been human.

    But the media was all insisting that that wasn¡¯t the case, and the police were straight up refusing to consider those options. So, I had to turn to the one person I knew was barking up the right tree. And he lived in Apartment G-426, Kingsfold Arch.

    Except when I showed up there, it was¡­ empty? The apartment had been put back out for renting.

    For a while, I thought that Fold had genuinely vanished into the night. Maybe taken by whatever monster was in the hallways. And then another of his packages ended up on my delivery list, with his new address listed.

    I was rushing over there before I even considered that it may have been creepy. Maybe he had moved to avoid the embarrassment I had caused for him and now I was making it worse?

    ¡°Actually, I switched apartments after I got my house broken into twice after someone released by private information. Once was by a true crime enthusiast trying to get a primary source.¡± Fold shivered, ¡°I live in Apartment C-06 now. And there aren¡¯t any nearby mirrors in the corridor.¡±

    I swore profusely as I followed him inside his new apartment. It was in the building right next to his old one, embarrassingly enough. Except on a much lower floor. Good riddance, too, because there wasn¡¯t an elevator and the idea of having to climb it once reflection-hopping became outlawed was already weighing on me.

    Not that I thought the bill would actually pass. There was no way it was going to. It was a stupid bill and would get laughed out of the voting.

    ¡°It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t have a mirror, it¡¯s just that I don¡¯t want you popping into my bathroom unannounced.¡± He explained as he let me inside, ¡°I¡¯ll put a mirror in the living room for you to go through?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯d be great-¡± I started to say, before remembering the situation that had led to this, ¡°Actually, don¡¯t do that. No need to poke the bear. Or the mirror monster, so to speak.¡±

    His head snapped towards me, amazement in his eyes, ¡°You believe me?¡± He breathed.

    I rubbed my neck uncomfortably, ¡°I mean, a little? No the entirety, but I do think you¡¯re focusing on the right things, unlike everyone else involved in this mess.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d hope so.¡± He wrinkled his nose, ¡°The Smoke and Mirrors Movement? It¡¯s a crazy world out there and they¡¯re not helping matters.¡±

    ¡°Well, what do you say, Henry ¡®Fold¡¯ Maximillian?¡± I asked, holding my hand out a tad theatrically, ¡°You ready to expose this monster with me?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have it any other way, Maddy.¡± He grinned, reaching forward to give me a high five.

    I was a mailwoman. He was a detective. There was a person-eating monster on the loose. I¡¯m sure we were going to work something out.

 Little Sister

    We met in Fold¡¯s new apartment ¨C and office, as it turned out. The second bedroom of his apartment was instead decorated with all the trappings of a regular private investigator¡¯s office.

    Fold had a very colorful taste. His old apartment had ice cream-patterned wallpaper on all his walls and flower arrangements everywhere. This one was very much the same and yet, the moment I stepped into the office, all hint of that stopped abruptly. Instead of bright, contrasting colors, it was all maroons, dark reds, and mahogany. Sensible bookshelves filled with thick tomes, and a dark fuzzy carpet swamping the whole place. The sharp scent of tobacco lingered over everything, even though he had never smoked.

    I had been relegated to the client¡¯s straight-backed chair, while Fold stood and stared at the singular mirror we had in the office, blocked by a set of blinds he had only just installed.

    ¡°So¡­¡± I hummed, watching him continue staring at the mirror. Almost even through it.

    ¡°Yeah?¡± He asked, backing away from the mirror and flicking the blinds shut.

    ¡°You¡¯re the expert here.¡± I reminded him, ¡°What¡¯s the usual process for this?¡±

    He let out a breath of air, languid and slow as he sauntered back to his spinning leather chair, ¡°Well, we¡¯ve got many leads to tackle.¡± He explained, ¡°And the strongest one is the bite marks.¡±

    Right. The bitemarks. Who could forget? Celina Minto¡¯s leg had not only been chewed off but had also been gnawed all over by whatever creature had gotten to her.

    ¡°The body has been taken to the morgue.¡± I pointed out, feeling vaguely sick.

    A swish and click of the drawer opening and a bunch of papers rustled as they were pulled out and spread across the desk. Photographs of the body, from every angle imaginable.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that that¡¯s going to be a problem.¡± He crowed, ¡°This will be enough to get us a match on whatever the creature is. And if I¡¯m right, there isn¡¯t going to be a match because it¡¯s the glass that¡¯s taking chunks out of people.¡±

    Red flags immediately. Fold¡¯s bias was obvious to anyone who looked, which was a problem because he was the one who had the experience and knew the protocols of this field. I certainly had no idea what was happening here and didn¡¯t know how to make sure he stayed impartial the whole way through.

    If I called it out, though, the contentiousness between us would rise, and he might ditch me altogether.

    ¡°Careful, buddy, your verification bias is showing.¡± I offered instead with a smirk. A small itch to test the waters.

    He rolled his eyes, ¡°Just putting it out there.¡± He shook his head, ¡°But if you don¡¯t trust my process, you can take over comparing the bite imprints yourself.¡±

    Ah, fuck, he was offended and was now hanging me out to dry.

    ¡°How am I supposed to do that?¡± I asked, trying to play off my frustration.

    He held up a textbook, ¡°Look at pictures on book. Compare with pictures. Find a match.¡±

    Huh, that didn¡¯t sound so difficult.

    Fold gave me a book on bite analysis, showing me how to pick out the different teeth marks from each side of the mouth, pointing out each tooth¡¯s imprint left on skin. I had to get out the tracing paper and charcoal to graph out the key points and pin them against the textbook.

    It was a pretty expansive textbook, ranging from reptiles to mammals. Even fish. I didn¡¯t think that the monster in the hallways was a fish, but the idea of a fish swimming through the air was funny enough to make me consider it as an option.

    Snakes had only two puncture holes in their bites, which had them solidly off the table. Geese, on the other hand, were totally probable, because they had teeth on their tongues in a similar fashion to how Celina¡¯s body had been gnawed on.

    Bitemark matching was easy, but it was a lengthy process. I ended up slaving away at the desk until golden hour. Then I had to keep working through it. It was only halfway through that it occurred to me that maybe Fold had done this on purpose. He may have wanted me to make sure that the bite match was unbiased so that he could skip out on the grunt work. I wouldn¡¯t put it past him.

    Well played, Fold, well played.

    There wasn¡¯t any point in putting up a fight about this. I had been the one to offer to take up the job in the first place, and stopping now to argue about roles would only lower productivity.

    I had been intending to work through the night after grabbing dinner, but then the office door swung open. Fold shuffled into the room and hurried around to shove scattered evidence and photographs into discrete drawers and cupboards.

    The pile of photographs I was working on were swept away too, tracing paper and all.

    ¡°Hey!¡± I snapped, clutching the bitemark book towards me, ¡°What¡¯s your deal?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a client.¡± He explained hurriedly, ¡°Come on, we can¡¯t keep her waiting, I need real money.¡±

    Right. Of course. I didn¡¯t realize that he freelanced for people who weren¡¯t police, but it made sense. I vacated the client chair and retreated to the corner of the office right next to the mirror. A quick escape if needed.

    ¡°Right, I¡¯m bringing her in.¡± Fold announced, ducking back into the wider apartment. Seconds later, he opened the door wide, letting in a young woman with curly brown hair braided underneath a straw hat.

    She tottered over to the client¡¯s chair and sat down heavily, hands clutched together in her lap. Fold sat down across from her, but she determinedly avoided his gaze. That immediately led her to catch sight of me in the corner, with the bite encyclopedia clutched to my chest.

    ¡°Oh, I didn¡¯t realize there was going to be a witness¡­¡± She murmured, covering her face in a panic.

    ¡°I can leave if you want.¡± I offered immediately, ¡°Just here to help in another case, so it¡¯s no big deal.¡±

    ¡°No, no, I¡¯m alright with this.¡± She assured, ¡°This is preferable, actually.¡±

    Fold and I exchanged glances. What exactly was this girl involved in? We couldn¡¯t afford another in-depth investigation. We waited for the girl to continue, but she remained silent.

    ¡°Well, anytime now.¡± I prompted her.

    ¡°Give her time, Maddy.¡± Fold shook his head, ¡°This kind of thing is traumatic. She¡¯ll come around soon.¡±

    ¡°My name is Riley Minto.¡± She announced, her voice soft and quivering, ¡°I¡¯m sure you recognize the name from the newspapers. Or already ongoing investigations.¡±

    I didn¡¯t know whether it was better that she was from the Celina case or not. The challenge of another case had sounded appealing, but I could take another piece in the puzzle. Especially a puzzle in the form of a forthcoming witness.

    ¡°Riley? You must be the sister.¡± Fold pointed out, straightening up in his chair as he pulled out another notebook.

    ¡°Yeah, I am.¡± She agreed, grimacing uncomfortably, ¡°Her younger sister.¡±

    Her. We didn¡¯t need to say the name of Celina Minto. The bright, short flame who had left her mark all over the history of Medley¡¯s theater and had met a tragic end. She hung over all of us, an uncomfortable specter that formed the epicenter of this case.

    ¡°I know you two helped find the body.¡± Riley continued, her quiet voice slowly gaining more and more confidence, ¡°I couldn¡¯t find any concrete connection between you, but now that you¡¯re both here, that theory is pretty much fact. You must already be working on the investigation, so tell me how I can help.¡±

    Fold cleared his throat, ¡°Listen, Ms. Minto, we appreciate this, but why aren¡¯t you going to the police with this?¡±

    ¡°They aren¡¯t listening.¡± Riley sulked, slumping further into her chair, ¡°Kept on shuffling me along and trying to get me to identify people who might ¡®pose a threat¡¯ to her or whatever, but that isn¡¯t the way it played out!¡±

    ¡°Well, how did it play out?¡± I asked, hypotheses and theories bouncing around my head faster and faster with every second.

    ¡°Here¡¯s the thing. My sister is such a sweetheart that sometimes it makes me sick.¡± Her voice broke a little, ¡°Was a sweetheart. She¡¯s gone now.¡± The girl pulled off her hat as proper sobs spilled out.

    ¡°Shhh, okay.¡± Fold agreed, tapping on the desk in a soothing pattern, ¡°We understand. This won¡¯t go unsolved, I swear it.¡±

    ¡°What I¡¯m trying to say is that no one despised her.¡± Riley managed out through her tears, ¡°There aren¡¯t any enemies. Any stalkers. Any wronged parties left in her wake. Looking for any is simply wasting valuable time and resources!¡±

    I had heard as much from the early-on investigations, but I hadn¡¯t quite believed it. Surely no one could be that likeable? But no, it seemed she truly was a paragon unlike any other. I had never seen a person like that in real life. They seemed to only exist to meet a sympathetic end. Which¡­ had happened here. Big whoop.

    This didn¡¯t feel real to me. I wasn¡¯t the person who dealt with this sort of thing. I was the one who sat and read the story on the newspapers as it unfolded.

    ¡°We knew that already.¡± Fold explained to her gently, completely different from the Fold who had been laughing carelessly in front of a disembodied foot, ¡°Is there anything you do have to add?¡±

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Riley nodded hurriedly, ¡°Celina and I were very close. She talked to me every day until she¡­ couldn¡¯t anymore. I think I was on the phone right before she died.¡±

    That made me sit up and pay attention, ¡°What were you talking about? Did you hear any bit of the altercation with the beast?¡±

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t.¡± She frowned, ¡°But it did get cut short because of her mentioning some sort of reporter being in the room.¡±

    A reporter. Very interesting. Was the beast a shapeshifter? Or was this human an accomplice? We needed more information on their appearance, their mannerisms, some sort of way to nail down who this was meant to be. Maybe came in using a press pass or pretending to be part of the production crew.

    Worst of all, another possibility presented itself to me. This person might be a reflection-hopper, and thus proving the supporters of Action 210 right. Reflection-hopping was dangerous, and many people used it for unsavory reasons, but that didn¡¯t warrant a conclusive ban! Not only was it impractical, but also short-sighted. And a high-profile case like this would only fuel the flames of discourse. The reporter couldn¡¯t be a reflection-hopper. It would mean the end of all my career prospects.

    Guess I wasn¡¯t as unbiased in this situation as I had thought. Even though I had gotten mad at Fold for pushing his mirror-eating theory constantly, I found that I might even prefer that outcome over this one.

    ¡°I think I need some space.¡± I burst out, standing up quickly.

    ¡°Of course.¡± Fold nodded, backing away to give me room to leave, ¡°Grab some dinner and head home, will you? Call me before you go to sleep, and I¡¯ll catch you up on any imperative information.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t she part of this firm?¡± Riley frowned, ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re just letting her slack off like this.¡±

    ¡°Listen, the name of the agency is ¡®Maximillian Investigates¡¯, not ¡®Maximillian and Gardner¡¯. She doesn¡¯t have a single hour of training for this job.¡± Fold brushed off, ¡°Just tell me everything, and I¡¯ll know what to do with it.¡±

    Riley frowned but acquiesced.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be okay.¡± I assured her, ¡°Fold¡¯s considered to be the best of the best, according to the Commissioner of Medley Police Department.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t really comfort me, given my recent experiences.¡± Riley muttered, ¡°Also¡­ Fold?¡±

    ¡°Because he lives in Kingsfold Arch.¡± I explained.

    ¡°So do three thousand other people but whatever floats your boat.¡± Riley sighed, ¡°Go eat, ma¡¯am, sorry to keep you here with dumb questions.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, okay.¡± I spared her a parting wave before pulling up the blinds on the mirror and ducking inside.

    The hallways used to be a study on contrasts. On experiences that were constantly at war. I would wander through them, watching the slivers of daily life filtering through, feeling completely isolated from them all, and yet connected at the same time.

    Now, though? They only felt isolating. Creamy beige from the posters covering up most of the mirrors, except from a few angles here and there. It was dull and boring and compared to the kaleidoscope of color it had been before? It was terrifying.

    I barely made it five minutes before I dove back out through a mirror set up on a tight corner. My favorite noodle shop was only a block away, so in the end it all worked out.

    ¡°A number 2 chicken stir-fry, please.¡± I offered to the cashier, dumping crumpled paper bills onto the counter, avoiding their gaze determinedly.

    ¡°Give us five minutes, ma¡¯am.¡± They agreed. I was just about to shuffle away to a table at the back when a familiar voice sounded from right behind me.

    ¡°Uh¡­ could I have the vegetarian noodle bowl?¡±

    I froze on the spot, waiting for the purchase to go through before turning on the spot to meet the familiar stranger. There was a young man directly behind me, wearing a rumpled and unbuttoned suit. It took me a second to recognize him. Dave, the fireman from the recovery of Celina Minto¡¯s corpse.

    ¡°Woah, sorry about that.¡± Dave chuckled, backing away to give me more space, ¡°I didn¡¯t mean¡­ Maddy? Dude, where¡¯ve you been this whole time? You never called me!¡±

    ¡°You gave me your number?¡± I blinked, trying to remember when that had happened.

    ¡°Yeah, scribbled it on the tag of that shock blanket I gave you. Didn¡¯t you read it?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t even see it.¡± I professed. His face fell immediately.

    ¡°Ugh, should¡¯ve realized how ridiculous that was!¡± He complained, ¡°And here I was trying not to be overbearing and desperate.¡±

    ¡°We could catch up now, if you¡¯ve got nothing better to do.¡± I offered. He lit up.

    ¡°I- I¡¯d like that. These past few days have been¡­ hectic.¡±

    ¡°You, too?¡± I groaned, slumping onto the seat at the very back, ¡°I¡¯ve been working a whole second job completely unpaid. It¡¯s awful. What¡¯s the department saddling you with?¡±

    ¡°Fire.¡± He explained blandly, ¡°Just fire. Everywhere. Arson rates have risen dramatically, and they¡¯re politically charged, too, so now the media is involved. I¡¯m a lot of things, but camera-ready isn¡¯t one of them, so it¡¯s exceptionally trying in my case.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s bad.¡± I winced, ¡°Even worse than mine, really. Wait, by politically charged, you mean¡­?¡± Action 210, the words hung unsaid in the air between them.

    Dave looked away and tugged at his collar, ¡°I can¡¯t reveal that classified information.¡±

    ¡°Dude, it¡¯s the fire department.¡± I complained, ¡°What secrets could you be keeping?¡±

    ¡°Hey, we do important things, too!¡± Dave argued, ¡°I¡¯ll have you know that firemen see a lot of stuff that could totally bring our current systems of power to its knees if they¡¯re revealed.¡±

    ¡°Ah, so you¡¯re corrupt, too.¡± I nodded, ¡°Very admirable.¡±

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t the point I was trying to make!¡± He glared at me, standing up sharply, ¡°Y¡¯know, I¡¯m just going to get my food and leave.¡±

    ¡°No, no, come back!¡± I cried, following him, ¡°I won¡¯t even make you break any NDAs, just hang out with me for a little while.¡±

    He looked a little conflicted, but eventually he sat back down, ¡°Well, if we¡¯re not going to talk about everything¡¯s that been going on, what are we going to be talking about?¡±

    I shrugged, ¡°Anything. Shoot the breeze. Talk about our common interests- wait, how¡¯s the reflection-hopping going?¡±

    ¡°Is this really the best thing to discuss right now?¡± Dave asked tiredly, ¡°I don¡¯t know how long I¡¯ll even be allowed to continue doing this without my job being threatened, but I¡¯ve kept up my training anyway. I¡¯m planning to go for my first proper jump in a couple weeks, actually, if the timeline stays consistent.¡±

    ¡°Dude, that¡¯s great!¡± I clutched my hands to my chest, ¡°The first jump, it¡¯s pretty special.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Dave agreed, tracing the wooden spirals on the table with his finger, ¡°But it kind of feels a little less special now. After what happened at the police station, with the entryway.¡±

    Oh, right. Dave had already seen the ethereal prism of the hallways on the day of Celina Minto¡¯s murder. Yet another thing that had been taken by that day. Your first dive into the hallways was meant to be a special occasion, won through every individual¡¯s hard work and effort. Not a cheap shortcut. For once, I felt angered on his behalf.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t change the fact that you earned this, you know?¡± I assured him, reaching my hand forward to cover his own, ¡°It¡¯s going to be your special day. I¡¯ll make sure of it.¡±

    He snorted, a little perturbed, ¡°If that¡¯s something you want to do, I¡¯m not stopping you.¡± He paused hesitantly, before blurting out, ¡°Where did you learn reflection-hopping from? A dojo or self-taught like me?¡±

    ¡°My parents taught me.¡± I replied, ¡°They knew it from¡­ training, I guess? It runs in the family.¡±

    ¡°¡­Lucky.¡± He whispered, ¡°I can¡¯t imagine having an entire family ready to back me up in an art like this. All they¡¯ve done is be mostly indifferent, if not outright horrified.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t imagine a life like that. Ever since I was a kid, the spark inside me had been nurtured and encouraged, whether in writing or drawing or taking an impulsive trip to the tallest mountain in the world. That last one had resulted in a panicked grounding and the explanation of what hypothermia was, but in the end, they let me do it, bundled tight with jackets until I was nearly swallowed up by coats.

    ¡°What¡¯s this about, anyway?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I know that the first jump is supposed to be special.¡± He looked down at his feet, ¡°But I¡¯m so separated from the wider reflection-hopping community that I don¡¯t even know how you¡¯re supposed to do for a first jump.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ for my first jump, we had a little party.¡± I told him, ¡°After the jump but according to my parents, it was meant to be before, but I just happened to skip that step. Do you want a party?¡±

    ¡°Sure!¡± Dave agreed immediately.

    ¡°Well then, strap in, because we¡¯re throwing you the party of your life!¡± I patted him on the shoulder.

    ¡°Number Two for Madison?¡± The cashier called out, holding up a bag of takeaway noodles. I got up and quickly took it from them.

    ¡°But I need to get home. Get some sleep.¡± I told Dave, rubbing at my eyes tiredly, ¡°Raincheck it for tomorrow between my rounds and the investigation?¡±

    ¡°Sure, call me this time, will you?¡± He teased. My face flared red.

    <hr>

    Even as the death of Celina Minto hung over the city, my job continued. I delivered parcels, bills, mail of every kind. It was grueling work, especially since the post office had started imposing a mandate on restricting reflection-hopping. Apparently due to recipient backlash, they weren¡¯t allowing people to reflection-hop in front of witnesses. We had to keep it subtle. Appear around streetcorners and walk some of the distance.

    I was one of the few reflection-hoppers in the office because when you could teleport to another dimension, people looked for something more glamorous than mail delivery, so out of everyone, I was affected the most. If this kept going, would they expect me to get a vehicle like everyone else? I didn¡¯t have a license for anything. Never even needed one. It was a terrible thing to have to worry about.

    By the time I had whittled down my parcel bag to absolutely nothing, the sun had begun falling from its noonday peak. I had to get to Fold¡¯s apartment with no time to spare and work on the investigation. The mirror in the study hadn¡¯t been covered by blinds simply for the aesthetic of it. Those blinds provided a double purpose.

    For one, they blocked the view of inside Fold¡¯s office, stopping any spies from eavesdropping, or any so-called mirror monsters from noticing whose office this was meant to be at all. And then, there was the added benefit of it trapping anyone who tried to enter through it. The way the blinds were set up made it so that I couldn¡¯t remove them from this side, no matter how hard I tried. Very effective against enemies, but when it was me, it got old fast.

    I rattled the blinds desperately, trying to get the attention of the detective on the other side.

    ¡°Hello, Maddy!¡± Fold grinned the moment he whipped the blinds up, ¡°Fancy seeing you here.¡±

    ¡°Fold.¡± I greeted, straightening my cap from on top of my head, ¡°You seem to be in good spirits. Riley give us some new leads?¡±

    ¡°Yes, actually!¡± Fold nodded, taking a heavy sip from the large mug he was carrying, ¡°But that¡¯s not really what I wanted to focus on. According to my informants, Minto¡¯s autopsy report is done.¡±

    ¡°And we have access to that?¡± I couldn¡¯t help but be surprised. Usually, private investigators working on a case that they had technically (read: very clearly) been dismissed from, wouldn¡¯t be able to see such private data.

    ¡°What? Obviously not.¡± Fold snorted, shaking his head, ¡°That¡¯s why we don¡¯t have it right now.¡±

    ¡°So, your wonderful sources were able to spill some of the details, but not all of them?¡± I complained, resting my elbows on the table, ¡°What¡¯s even the point of these sources?¡±

    Fold sighed, reaching for a cup of tea resting on his desk. It had gone cold long ago and had left a mug ring on the table, but he took a long draught as if it was the nectar of life. He finally broke off with a relieved gasp and finally answered my question.

    ¡°They slip me info when I need it.¡± He explained, ¡°That way I know where to push and press to get the proper results. Otherwise, it¡¯s just digging blindly and hoping to strike oil.¡±

    His logic was sound, so I nodded along, ¡°Okay, so what next? If you¡¯ve got this whole spy network business going on, it means you have a plan to weasel that report out from somewhere, right?¡±

    ¡°I do, actually.¡± Fold puffed his chest up, ¡°How okay are you with breaking the law?¡±

    ¡°¡­You worked for the police.¡± I had to remind him.

    ¡°Only as a freelancer!¡± He argued, ¡°Once that contract runs out, I don¡¯t owe them shit!¡±

    ¡°Okay, whatever.¡± I shook my head, ¡°As long as it doesn¡¯t get attributed to me down the line, you can spin this however you want.¡±

    ¡°Great, great, great.¡± Fold repeated feverishly, riffling through his papers, ¡°Riley¡¯s grabbing it for us.¡±

    My elbows slipped and knocked over a penholder, sending stationery flying everywhere. Fold swore and started cleaning up the pens and markers and pencil shavings. I didn¡¯t care for a second about the mess, staring at him in horror.

    ¡°Dude. Why would you make her do that? She doesn¡¯t have anything to do with this!¡± I knew he was underhanded, but making the girl whose sister just died take the fall for our investigation was another level of low. There was no way it wouldn¡¯t end badly if the girl was caught, and she ratted us out. Also, she didn¡¯t deserve this. That, too.

    Fold snorted, ¡°You don¡¯t know anything, do you?¡±

    There was a mirth in his voice that immediately rang alarm bells in my head, ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Remember that officer you met at the investigation? Sam Bradley?¡± He asked, and I immediately remembered the trigger-happy Officer Sam from the Medley National Theater. Nothing could have prepared me for the bomb he dropped next, ¡°Riley and Sam used to date!¡±

    ¡°Oh my God.¡± I whispered, sitting down heavily, ¡°You¡¯re just here for the drama, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°¡­Maybe?¡± Fold shrugged, giggling hysterically.

    I glared at him, ¡°Dude. We¡¯re here to solve a murder and find a monster. Not to start a real-life soap opera.¡±

    ¡°Why not both?¡± He replied with a beatific smile. I could¡¯ve punched him.

 Firefighter

    The fluorescent lights of the post office burnt my eyes and buzzed in my ears. People bustled around, conversation loud and punctuated by thudding boxes that were being thrown around. All of this was making it hard to focus on the manager who I was meant to be receiving today¡¯s parcels from, but the worst of all had to be the television.

    It was blaring, irritating, and grabbed everyone¡¯s attention. The reporter on screen was well-put-together and was reading out the news in a calm and measured tone. Possibly too calm for the devastating news coming from her mouth.

    ¡°-is finally officially considering Action 210 to be passed into federal law.¡± She announced, rearranging her papers, ¡°It has been scheduled to be ratified a month from now. However, activists are already making their way to the streets, either for or against the decision.¡±

    Despite myself, I find myself transfixed as footage started playing on-screen of riots and protests nationwide. People were displayed and reported, each speaking on their stances.

    ¡°This will be a disaster! You can¡¯t enforce this-¡±

    ¡°I say it¡¯s about damn time. These criminals deserve to be policed.¡±

    ¡°What about the research the government does? Universities? Will that be outlawed, too?¡±

    ¡°This is all to cripple the food programs! How¡¯re we supposed to transport fresh produce now?¡±

    ¡°Murder is a crime. Walking isn¡¯t. Charge them on murder, instead.¡±

    Lots of opinions. Clashing talking points. My head span just by thinking through all of them and pointing out all the flaws in their logic. The day had barely started, and I was already getting a headache.

    ¡°Gardner, here¡¯s your schedule.¡± My manager told me, pushing a clipboard at me. I took it immediately, reading it through. The load was lighter today. I was starting to notice that the amount of traffic we got was slowly declining. Or maybe it was just me?

    ¡°It¡¯s to balance out the walking time it¡¯ll take.¡± She explained softly, ¡°You should maybe think about investing in a bicycle if things snowball from here.¡±

    I had learnt to ride a bike when I was a kid, just like any other kid who had the means, but it had been so long since I had actually ridden one, I thought I might have actually forgotten how. I know people said that you never really forgot, but I was pretty sure I was too dependent on reflection-hopping to ever go back to any other mode of transport.

    So, I lugged the messenger bag over my shoulder and walked straight into the full-body mirror set up near the entrance.

    Usually, I found walking quite meditative. That¡¯s why I had chosen to be a mailwoman in the first place. Now though, I was rushing to get myself through the list. What used to be a full-time job, I managed to get done in three hours. After that, I checked to make sure my work pager was on, and then went straight to Fold¡¯s apartment.

    Fold was there, naturally, leaning over a small foldable desk that had been set up on his permanent desk. There were flesh-toned blobs on top of the desk, with a variety of knives and glass shards arranged beside them. Riley was sitting in the corner, a halo of ringlets floating around her shoulders as she watched the proceedings with interest.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I asked, looking around.

    ¡°Testing out the tearing patterns.¡± Riley explained, holding up some up-close pictures of serrated skin and torn muscle, ¡°These were included in the autopsy report. Much better resolution than what Fold was working with before.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ smart.¡± I noted, holding up one of the knives. They were a unique type of serrated edge that looked almost like a set of jagged teeth. From my adventures in bite matching, I immediately recognized it as a medium-sized cat of some kind, ¡°How¡¯s that going for you guys?¡±

    ¡°Well, the ¡®bites¡¯ are too clean to be proper teeth.¡± Riley explained, ¡°Too narrow and no grinding. It was in and out with no repeats. Unnatural. So we¡¯re experimenting with other materials to check what¡¯s giving the flesh that unique smooth cut.¡± She looked slightly grinned, ¡°I mean, Fold is doing it. I¡¯m just watching.¡±

    ¡°And what¡¯re the results?¡± I asked, a sinking feeling that I knew what was coming.

    Fold met my gaze, completely unapologetic, ¡°All signs are pointing us to glass.¡± He confirmed.

    Well, damn. Another sign leaning towards his hypothesis. Something that I still refused to believe. The hallways had been a safe place for years now. Whether I was in high school, or college, or even when I was working a nine to five, the kaleidoscopic pathways were there to welcome me, taking me around the world and back in a few dreamy hours.

    The idea that it was alive was alien enough, but that world coming to life to murder people? It just didn¡¯t register as a possibility. In a panic, I moved my eyes away, instead latching onto the evidence corkboard on the wall. There were new photos pinned there that I hadn¡¯t seen before. Unknown people, lying on the ground with bites all over their bodies. Multiple limbs bitten right out. In the background, I saw the shifting, multicolored landscape of the mirrored hallways.

    More victims that had been claimed by those endless comforting mirrors.

    ¡°I think I need some time.¡± I whispered faintly, stumbling back into the mirror I had only just come from. Riley frowned and reached forward; her eyes lined with concern. I didn¡¯t stop to listen to what she had to say, instead turning around and bolting right back into the mirrors where all that blood had been spilt.

    I just wanted to breathe for a second. A distraction of some kind, even though my days were so full already I couldn¡¯t live with myself if I didn¡¯t do something productive. So, what to do instead?

    Dave. He was doing his first jump tomorrow. I should go help him with the party beforehand.

    I extracted myself from the hallways through one of the mirrors set up on sharp turns. Oddly shaped mirrors were a pain to jump through. Passing through them always made me feel weird, as if I was being turned inside out and stretched out like a piece of chewing gum. Or putty, for the matter.

    There was a sign by the mirror when I jumped out of it. Small and discrete, it read ¡®covering corner mirrors is a civil offence.¡¯

    Wow, so things had gone that far already.

    I made my way to the closest phone box and let myself in. A couple quarters and then inputting the number that had been imprinted on the inside of my head ever since I had gotten home and hunted for that blanket.

    Agonized beeping from the receiver, until finally there was crackling and the phone was picked up.

    ¡°Hello?¡± Came Dave¡¯s hesitant voice through the line.

    ¡°Good afternoon, Dave.¡± I replied, ¡°It¡¯s Madison, remember?¡±

    ¡°Oh, right, of course.¡± He agreed, rustling in the background of his call, ¡°Why- why are you calling?¡±

    ¡°You wanted to a customary little party for your first jump, didn¡¯t you? We need to make sure we¡¯ve got everything! Cut some cake, make some cholay, do you like spices? Because there¡¯s this flaming stew my cousin made for her first jump celebration and it could set your mouth on fire both literally and metaphorically.¡±

    ¡°Um¡­ sure?¡± He replied over the crackling, ¡°I¡¯m actually off on leave right now, so I might be able to do all the cooking myself. Send me the recipe?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m not really home right now, so I¡¯ll fax it over the moment I can.¡± I promised.

    ¡°Wait, so why did you call if you¡¯re not home?¡± Dave asked.

    ¡°Do I need a reason?¡± I asked, feeling my heart pulse in my chest.

    ¡°Uhm, not really, but I¡¯ve just been hearing it a lot in your voice, too. Is something wrong? You sound upset.¡± Dave explained, his concerned frown and scrunched up eyebrows evident even through the terrible sound quality of the payphone.

    ¡°Yeah, I am.¡± I sighed, fighting the urge to lean against the wall. It was filthy, who knew what had been spilled there, ¡°It¡¯s¡­ hard to talk about.¡±

    ¡°Wanna talk about it?¡± He asked, almost whispering at this point.

    ¡°The investigation with Fold is eating me alive.¡± I confessed, ¡°There¡¯s just¡­ so much gore. I can¡¯t handle it, but they need me, y¡¯know? There aren¡¯t any other reflection-hoppers to use except for me.¡±

    An awkward silence that stretched long enough for me to start worrying that the phone had timed out. Then, finally, a crackly puff of air being released.

    ¡°That¡¯s a pretty tough situation.¡± He admitted, ¡°But you shouldn¡¯t feel obligated to stick around if its making you uncomfortable. Maybe think about looking into therapy?¡±

    ¡°No, my insurance would never cover that.¡± I sighed, ¡°You must have met a lot of people in your self-studies. You know any reflection hoppers that are more qualified for this job?¡±

    Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°I used textbooks and public domain films.¡± He replied, ¡°I don¡¯t know anyone at all. Excluding you.¡±

    ¡°Dang. That sucks.¡± I sighed, ¡°But keep an eye out, will you?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± He agreed, ¡°Make sure that Maximillian knows the gore¡¯s getting to you, alright? Go for the jobs that don¡¯t involve looking directly at the victims, maybe?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, okay.¡± I agreed, ¡°That may work. Thanks, Dave. I¡¯ll get back to you about this once I get home. Bye.¡±

    ¡°Bye.¡± He echoed, before tacking on, ¡°Good luck.¡±

    Just in time, too, as the dial tone began buzzing over the receiver.

    ¡°Enter 3 cents for continued call?¡± The robotic voice asked. I hung up the phone.

    Time to head back, get ahold of my nerves all over again, and then walk back into that office.

    There was a monster to catch.

    <hr><hr>

    Dave Mitchells had a lot going on.

    His entire life was a rollercoaster, front to back. He¡¯d like to go over his whole biography, but right now, nothing was sticking out to him.

    He wouldn¡¯t say that he had a particularly hard time or anything. If anything, he was born in a position of privilege, if he was allowed to say that.

    During high school, he began practicing reflection-hopping. It started off when he saw the action hero do it in a movie to avoid a sniper. Ever since then, he¡¯d been hooked. He had to become a reflection-hopper, just like him!

    He began practicing using books. His mother had been snippy about it, and his classmates had laughed him off whenever he asked around for help. So, he tried to figure it out by himself. He started swimming to learn how to dive, took up hiking and running to build up his stamina, did everything he could to build his body up and reach peak physical stature. That would help him with slipping into the mirrors, wouldn¡¯t it?

    In senior year, he remembered waking up one morning and washing his face. His reflection had stared at him from over the sink, eyes wide and owlish, hair hanging limp.

    Wet fingers reached forward, grazing over the cold, smooth surface of the mirror. It was solid. When he tried to apply more pressure, it only felt more solid. Impenetrable. A world he¡¯d never be a part of. No matter how hard he tried.

    Regardless of that, after graduating from high school, he had a lot of choices. He was smart, good with his hands, had decent grades, and was reasonably athletic. Anything he wanted; he could do it. There were colleges offering him all kinds of scholarships, enough to make it through all of higher education debt-free.

    But instead of all that, he went instead to military school. It appealed to him. The glory, the excitement, the buzz that surrounded it. He was hooked. And he applied.

    He¡¯d almost been accepted, too, until they flagged him for his epilepsy. That got him immediately kicked out of the running.

    All his dreams were dashed into the ground. Where was he supposed to go from here?

    After being rejected from the army, most people would move onto applying to the police, or maybe security. Not Dave. He needed to do something else.

    A pamphlet for firefight recruits was slipped under his bedroom door one day. He read it through, then read it again. Went to the library and started looking more into it. Three days later, he was ringing up their hotline, asking to speak with Dave.

    A pamphlet for firefight recruits was slipped under his bedroom door one day. He read it through, then read it again. Went to the library and started looking more into it. Three days later, he was ringing up their hotline, asking to sign up.

    What followed next was weeks upon weeks of training. He attended workshops on fire safety, put in hours of practice on the practical course. He became more passionate about being a firefighter. It was better than being in the army or a police officer. Dave wasn¡¯t made to be any of those things.

    He was made to fight fires. And he really enjoyed doing it.

    Almost as much as he enjoyed the idea of jumping through mirrors all on his own, those kaleidoscopic, many angled hallways to be see at his own behest.

    Dave wanted that. More than anything.

    And he was going to have it, too. In just a few hours.

    He paced around his apartment, looking desperately for a distraction. The food was on the table, ready to be served, all the bookshelves were properly dusted, and his apartment was sparse because his job barely let him stay here much, so there wasn¡¯t anything to fiddle around with.

    But everything had to be perfect. Maddy Gardner was coming over and he couldn¡¯t let anything be less than perfect. He hadn¡¯t gotten the chance to connect with anyone like this before, and he wasn¡¯t going to mess this chance up, either.

    The doorbell chimed, jolting him into action.

    He peered through the peephole with nervous energy, letting out an internal sigh of relief as he saw Maddy in her newsboy cap and brown overcoat.

    The door swung open, and he greeted her with a practiced smile, ¡°Hullo, Madison.¡±

    She smiled and nodded back, ¡°Hullo to you too.¡± She echoed, putting on a pretentious uptown accent. He laughed at it, but inside he wanted to shrivel up and die.

    ¡°Well, do you want to come in?¡± He asked, ¡°I¡¯ve got the whole setup already prepared¡­¡±

    <hr><hr>

    The setup in question was a folding chair, positioned in front of a giant mirror lying flat across the floor.

    I would know, as I had been crouched over it for what felt like hours. There was something about it that was so¡­ mesmerizing. Looking deep into it, I felt like I could see a story playing out in front of me. A story that was all in my head, clearly, but it felt so vivid. Clearly, my head had been taken on by fits of fancy and now I was hallucinating.

    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± Dave asked hesitantly behind me, ¡°Did I mess it up somehow?¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± I murmured, reaching my hand forward to ripple across the reflective surface of the mirror that was now delightfully liquid using the charms tattooed onto my arms, ¡°No, it¡¯s fine.¡±

    I decided to distract myself by shoveling down some of the paya Dave had made using the recipe I had faxed him. Despite the remarkably little instruction and time he had, the guy had made a decent version of it. I took a couple more sips to truly appreciate the stuff instead of just using it as a distraction.

    ¡°So, what now?¡± He asked, fidgeting uncomfortably, ¡°Where do we go from here?¡±

    ¡°Well, we finish the food, and then take the plunge.¡± I replied. It was self-explanatory.

    ¡°Right, right, of course.¡± He agreed, ¡°How much can I eat? Should I wait for a few hours before jumping or will I get stomach cramps?¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t like swimming, Dave.¡± I sighed.

    ¡°You never know!¡±

    ¡°Get your head on correctly, man.¡± I snapped my fingers in front of his face, ¡°Do you want to do this now or are we going to have to postpone this trip?¡±

    Alarm flashed through his face, ¡°No, we don¡¯t have to do that!¡± He assured me, ¡°Just uh¡­ give me a moment?¡±

    I stepped back, giving him some space as he clambered on top of the chair. He hesitated for a moment, then stretched one foot out over the mirror. He was wearing a tank top, allowing us to attach the storebought reflection-hopping charms onto his body with athletic tape.

    We waited for a few moments, suspended in anticipation, until finally Dave bit the bullet and pulled his other foot off the stool. He plummeted like a rock, straight towards the mirror that sat below.

    It looked incredibly fragile in that instant. And even though I had done this for years before, for a moment, I was struck with the fear that Dave wasn¡¯t going to make it. He was going to land on the mirror, and it would shatter into a thousand glistening razors.

    But he fell. And he made contact with the mirror. And he slipped right through, leaving behind barely a ripple on the surface. I gave him a few minutes to take in the grandeur, and then slipped into the mirror right behind him. I fell directly down and landed forcefully on the fractal-patterned ground below.

    It wasn¡¯t often when I had to jump down, but it wasn¡¯t the first time. There were a few risky maneuvers in my childhood involving rain puddles that often dropped me straight down, but those were a rose-tinted memory. Nothing I had to concern myself with.

    Dave was still standing a few feet away, looking around in a reverent fashion. His eyes were wide with magic, the polar opposite of the grief-stricken manic look that had dogged him the first time.

    ¡°Hey.¡± I whispered, trying not to disturb his immersion too much. To no avail, though, as he jumped away from me in alarm.

    He blinked owlishly, as if trying to process my presence.

    ¡°Maddy¡­¡± He muttered, ¡°I didn¡¯t realize that you would follow me in.¡±

    ¡°It takes time to gain a feel for where you¡¯re supposed to go.¡± I explained, ¡°I didn¡¯t want you to get lost, but if you think you¡¯ve got it, then I can leave?¡± It was a half-hearted peace offering, but he immediately lit up at the option.

    ¡°Sure! Let¡¯s do that.¡± He agreed.

    ¡°Oh. Well. Uh¡­¡± My thoughts scrambled in a panic. I hadn¡¯t expected him to actually be up for it. Still, that was what he wanted, so I shouldn¡¯t deny him, ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll see you outside?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± He agreed, before turning to look at the mirror fixed on the ceiling of the hallways, ¡°Wait, how¡¯re you going to get there?¡±

    I raised an eyebrow and stepped a few paces back. As if on command, the entirety of the hallways began shifting organically, twisting around so that the part I was standing on turned on its head and hung me upside down. My feet never budged from their place, and even my hair didn¡¯t show the slightest change. Gravity wasn¡¯t real in the hallways. Everything was under your command if you tried hard enough.

    Everything except the killers going loose, it seemed.

    ¡°Woah.¡± Dave whispered, looking at me awestruck, ¡°How am I going to do that?¡±

    ¡°Just give it your best shot!¡± I encouraged, ¡°And if it¡¯s real hard, I suppose I¡¯ll have to help you out.¡±

    His cheeks flared red and he looked away. Yep, he was going to do something stupid to avoid asking for help. Whatever, we were both adults so it wasn¡¯t really my problem. I jumped back into the real world and settled myself in for a wait.

    I had read up some to prepare for the job and knew how these things generally went. People tended to have longer first jumps as they meandered through the hallways and experimented with their limitations. Because of this, I had prepared myself for a slog. That was why I had insisted on all the food.

    Even with provisions, I found myself faltering as one hour became two hours, then three. And then four.

    It slowly bled into the early morning hours, and I realized I really needed to get to bed. Even a few hours would be a lifesaver as I did my morning rounds. But Dave still hadn¡¯t shown up.

    I should have been more worried, but at that point my brain had been so gummed up by sleep, I barely even registered it as odd. I just packed all the remaining food away, locked the door behind me, and left for home.

    <hr>

    I ended up sleeping incredibly well. Even managed to not be woken too harshly by my alarm. Despite my late hours, the morning run seemed to be off to a great start.

    ¡°This one is especially fragile.¡± The manager warned me as she handed me a parcel nearly as big as my torso. My arms nearly buckled under the weight, but I managed to hang on by the skin of my teeth.

    ¡°And you want me carrying it?¡± I asked faintly.

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly why we want you carrying it.¡± She corrected, ¡°You¡¯re the least likely to have a crash, or rattle it around unnecessarily. Get it to the recipient safe, and you might just bag yourself a bonus.¡±

    I nodded briskly, a burst of energy and determination zinging down my spine.

    I fully intended to do this responsibly. Go slowly, taking the most level route, no matter how long it took, not taking any unnecessary risks (which I totally also did with other packages marked fragile that didn¡¯t come with a bonus attached to them, I swear!) but then I was met with unforeseen complications.

    There was an arm sticking out from around a bend I was heading towards. A tanned, muscly arm with athletic tape used to patch paper charms over it.

    For a moment, I forgot about the pictures I had seen. The dead body of Celina Minto. Or maybe I was just in denial. I don¡¯t know why I walked towards the arm without even a hint of concern.

    I genuinely thought that Dave was just lying there. Fallen unconscious after too much wandering. And in truth, Dave really was lying there.

    Several feet away from his arm, which had been torn from his shoulder and dragged away to the bend, leaving behind a trail of blood marking its journey.

    The fragile parcel slipped from my fingers. It hit the ground with a crunch. Something broke inside the cardboard, even with all the padding and foam that had been wrapped around it. It must¡¯ve been really fragile, a hysterically avoidant part of my brain noted.

    The rest of me was too busy screaming as Dave¡¯s lifeless eyes stared into my soul. The giant row of teeth had cut straight through his face, leaving an imprint across his mouth that looked almost like a grotesque smile had been carved into his face.

    I threw up again.

    Before, even with the corpse of Celina Minto, I had never considered that the hallways were at fault for it. It was just a place, innocent of what happened inside it.

    But now? I despised the hallways.

 Unidentified Organic Material

    It turned out that even short an arm and eyes devoid of any spark, doctors could restore anyone if the patient was brought to them quickly enough.

    I had picked him up in a panic and brought him to an emergency room, barely even thinking about it. I didn¡¯t need to think about where I was going, the hallways just guided me to the place I needed to go.

    The second I landed in the emergency room, the doctors rushed him away. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure how the entire process went because of the ridiculous notion of ¡®patient confidentiality¡¯, but I did know that eventually they managed to stabilize him.

    He didn¡¯t wake up, though. Just lay there with an oxygen mask taped over his face.

    Reporters went crazy over the story. I found them lined up outside the hospital he¡¯d been admitted in, harassing all the doctors and staff and even passing officials who were coming in and out of the building, desperate for a scoop or a bite about the condition of one of the first people to walk away from the Mirror Monster alive.

    Granted, I was curious too, but I wasn¡¯t planning on getting a restraining order on myself anytime soon. It¡¯s what drove me back to Fold and our investigation.

    Or, as it was quickly becoming, Fold and Riley¡¯s investigation.

    ¡°I keep an open ear on the local radio networks.¡± Riley explained, her demure and timid persona melting away as she waved her hands in her hurry to deliver the facts, ¡°And there are a lot of weird people broadcasting, I¡¯ll give you that, but there seems to be an agreement amongst a lot of the on-air people that there¡¯s a conspiracy afoot. Celina was the death that kicked this whole investigation off, and then the guy who was in the team to recover her body is killed? Not a coincidence.¡±

    ¡°But she wasn¡¯t the first, chronologically speaking.¡± I frowned. As much as the corkboard of gory death had disturbed me, I could still remember the dates pinned next to each and every victim. Dates the people disappeared. Dates when the bodies were found. More than a few were from before the woman had ever signed onto the Medley National Theater.

    ¡°Yeah, she wasn¡¯t.¡± Riley agreed, ¡°This was just the most high-profile case of the murderer. The one that made people sit up and take notice.¡±

    She stared down at the ground for a little while, her eyes watering as she whispered, ¡°Is it weird that I wish my sister hadn¡¯t been attacked, even if the monster had gone on to kill more people unimpeded?¡±

    My heart splintered, ¡°No, of course not.¡± I told her, wishing almost that I could reach forward and give her some tactile affection. But Riley was clear about her boundaries and personal space, and none of us were allowed within her two-foot bubble.

    ¡°Sometimes, you want to keep your loved ones close to you.¡± I told her softly, ¡°Even if it means sacrificing others. It¡¯s a natural, human response to be more protective of people you know than strangers who would never affect you.¡±

    ¡°But I would affect them.¡± She pointed out hollowly, wringing her skirt.

    ¡°Well, kid, I don¡¯t know how to make this any clearer, but you¡¯re not at fault here and you can¡¯t control anything about this situation.¡± Fold sighed, ¡°So I need you to buck up and continue on with the investigation, otherwise the one thing behind the whole mess will get away.¡±

    I bristled at his biting tone. He was being too harsh on the girl, who was barely done mourning. I was going to step up for her, but Riley put a hand on my shoulder.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± She whispered, ¡°He¡¯s right. I need to get a move on.¡±

    ¡°Great!¡± Fold nodded, ¡°We need to finish up the tooth-mark lead and grab some possibilities from there. So far, the glass factor is lining up reasonably well. We¡¯re going to need our resident reflection-hopping expert now to go and examine the crime scene. On our own terms this time.¡±

    Resident reflection-hopping expert, that was me. I straightened up my back on instinct, already feeling the wariness creep up my spine.

    ¡°What are we looking for?¡±

    ¡°Everything.¡± Fold instructed, ¡°See if there are any traces of some kind of animal or person around the area. Maybe organic matter of any kind. Prints could greatly help, too. I¡¯ll give you my blacklight if you think it¡¯ll help.¡±

    It probably wouldn¡¯t, considering the light inside the mirrors was apparently shifted slightly to the right of the spectrum. Whatever that meant. I didn¡¯t understand it much, other than cop shows making a big deal about how hard that quirk made it to find bodily fluids left over in the hallways. I also wasn¡¯t a forensics scientist or a physicist of any kind, so I didn¡¯t point that out to him.

    ¡°And bring the arm over if you can snag it without throwing up.¡± Fold added, ¡°I need to give you an evidence bag the right size for it, so hang tight while I try to hunt it down.¡±

    He ducked behind his desk, shuffling through filing cabinets looking for said evidence bag. I hesitated, waiting for him to continue giving his instructions, but he didn¡¯t. Must be about the time I could start asking my own questions, then.

    ¡°What about the other victims?¡± I asked, ¡°How did you manage to find them?¡±

    ¡°Library.¡± Fold replied over his shoulder.

    ¡°And a newspaper ad which garnered a surprising amount of support.¡± Riley added, ¡°But then it got hijacked by true crime enthusiasts trying to get us to hand over the information to them in a ¡®collaboration¡¯.¡± She said the words as if they were an alien concept to her.

    ¡°A lot of people who had friends and family fall victim to this supposed monster wanted justice.¡± Fold explained, ¡°Where the police weren¡¯t going to hand over information, they were very willing to. Well, most of them were. Some of them burst into tears on the spot when we hit them up for a witness account.¡±

    I resisted the urge to tut disapprovingly at the man. How did he manage to accomplish so much while being utterly incompetent with witnesses?

    ¡°I was there to give them tissues.¡± Riley offered as compensation. It made things only slightly better.

    ¡°We¡¯re still doing follow-ups on everything down that route.¡± Fold continued, ¡°But we need to get on top of this situation before the police barge in and mess everything up.¡±

    ¡°Ohhh, I see how it is. You¡¯re trying to give them the run-around while they follow regular protocol and go to the scene where he disappeared instead of jumping straight into the mirrorverse.¡± I realized, ¡°That¡¯s. Almost sneaky of you.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I know.¡± He agreed, sliding across the desk to plop a giant rolled up evidence bag and a blacklight case into my hands, ¡°Now get a move on.¡± He directed.

    I rolled my eyes, ¡°You can¡¯t just order me around like this.¡± But I listened anyway and slipped through the mirror in the study.

    There was a certain hostility in the air the second my feet touched the glassy, reflective ground. The soft muffled ambient sounds of the hallways was the same as ever, and the temperature just as comfortably cool. But something was still different. The atmosphere tried to curl up inside my chest and provide comfort to me, but it wasn¡¯t working. It chafed and prickled over my skin.

    Still, I persisted. The hallways bent around me as easily as ever, and I found myself getting lost in my pacing just as I always did. Even with the sharp reality of the mirrors digging into my soul, the hallways still had this mystical quality.

    Finally, I found myself at a bend with a disembodied arm lying for everyone to behold. The pool of blood was as it always had been. Completely untouched by any passersby. The monster never seemed to come back after claiming its victim.

    There was something odd about the mirrors around me, I realized. It was raining on the other sides of all the mirrors. Raining hard enough to send torrents of mud tumbling past the mirrors.

    It had been raining just like this when I had found Celina Minto.

    Was there a connection between the two?

    I shook my head and pulled out the blacklight to shine it onto the crime scene. The blood lit up ghostly blue, as expected, but nothing else changed. Also expected if I was being honest.

    Not wanting to give up without a fight, I swung the beam over the crime scene. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Were the cop shows right?

    Then my eye caught onto a speck of light in the very corner of the area. Something I hadn¡¯t seen before. I crept over to look at the speck to find a glob of transparent gel lying on the floor. Organic matter.

    I pulled out a tiny plastic test tube and gently scooped the gel up inside using a glass rod and capped it. This was a new breakthrough for us. Hopefully the tiny sample would be enough to identify what the substance was.

    After that, there didn¡¯t seem to be anything new to be collected, so I moved on. There was the amputated arm that needed to be taken care of.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    Except before I could get around to it, footsteps echoed across the hallways. I barely had enough time to back away to an innocent distance from the crime scene before a whole fleet of policemen came charging into the scene.

    I had never seen so many people in the hallways. I barely even cross paths with anyone when walking across the winding, amorphous paths.

    The Commissioner from the Medley Police Department led the front, and the second he saw me, his eyebrows furrowed. He was suspicious of me, I knew immediately.

    ¡°Hello, Commish.¡± I smiled, giving him a small wave. He didn¡¯t return the gesture, but he did nod.

    ¡°You¡¯re Fold¡¯s apprentice, aren¡¯t you?¡± He asked, ¡°I recognize you from the Minto case.¡±

    Well, it had barely been a week since then, so I would hope he remembered me, but I wished that he had also taken note of my name, too.

    ¡°Yes. Madison Gardner.¡± I reintroduced myself.

    ¡°I remember.¡± One of the policemen behind him broke rank to say. I found that I remembered them too. It was Officer Sam, Riley¡¯s ex.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Commissioner Brian asked, inserting himself into the situation.

    I turned my head back to the blood splatters on the ground, letting hair slip into my eyes in melancholy that was only partially feigned.

    ¡°Dave was my friend.¡± I whispered, ¡°I was the one who found him lying here, almost dead. It was awful. They aren¡¯t letting me see him so this- this was all I could think of.¡±

    Silence. Did it work?

    ¡°Well, you can¡¯t do that anymore.¡± Offer Sam coughed, ¡°This is a crime scene under investigation. Non-police personnel will be considered trespassers.¡±

    I nodded in understanding and backed away.

    For a moment, I felt guilty about not handing over the fluid to the police as crucial evidence. But they had gotten to keep the arm, so it all evened out in the end.

    I made my way back to Fold¡¯s apartment in a daze, leaving the police behind to investigate by themselves.

    ¡°She¡¯s back!¡± Fold cheered, the moment I slipped through the mirror and onto the carpeted floor. It was disgustingly humid here after the cool hallways. I shuddered and moved past him to open the windows to let some air in.

    ¡°Why¡¯d you leave the blinds open?¡± I asked, pointing to the bare semblance of a guardrail we had made using the old set of blinds Fold had rooted up from somewhere.

    ¡°Because you were going to pop back in any moment.¡± Riley explained, watching me as I crossed the room again to yank the blinds down roughly.

    ¡°Well, don¡¯t.¡± I snapped, ¡°What if something happened? You can¡¯t take the risk.¡±

    ¡°Nothing happened, Maddy.¡± Fold told me, looking into my eyes with a rare sincerity, ¡°What¡¯s brought on this paranoia? Did you see something?¡± He spoke with excitement, his hands quivering in well restrained glee.

    ¡°Nothing conclusive.¡± I admitted, ¡°The police came before the arm could be picked up.¡±

    ¡°Ah, dammit.¡± Fold swore, ¡°We gave it our best shot, though.¡±

    ¡°I found something else that might solve a couple questions, if we¡¯re lucky.¡± I offered.

    Riley and Fold both perked up, eyes fixed on me. I pulled out the test tube of viscous gel and presented it to them.

    ¡°Found it at the crime scene using the blacklight.¡± I explained, ¡°Thought it could be useful.¡±

    Fold hummed and plucked the sample out of my grasp to look it over, ¡°Doesn¡¯t resemble saliva in viscosity.¡± He noted, ¡°And you¡¯re sure that all matter is stuck in stasis until it leaves the hallways? I need to prepare for the possibility that the material has aged and been corrupted.¡±

    I didn¡¯t know much about forensics, but this was a factoid I was absolutely certain about.

    ¡°Yes.¡± I insisted, ¡°I¡¯d stake my life on it.¡±

    He hesitated for a moment, but nodded nonetheless, ¡°Well then, I need to store this properly. Put it in the freezer before arrangements can be made for it to be taken apart by a lab.¡±

    I stepped aside to give him room to get to the kitchen and the freezer. Soon, the door was swinging shut and Riley and I were left alone.

    ¡°So¡­¡± She whispered, fiddling her thumbs, ¡°Those police you met¡­ was Sam with them?¡±

    ¡°Wait, you were seriously dating?¡± I asked, almost too gleefully for someone who had been so exasperated at Fold for digging up baggage like this.

    Riley blushed and looked away, ¡°Maybe.¡± She allowed, ¡°But we broke up. They were being needlessly pushy and controlling and I wasn¡¯t about that. So I broke up with them.¡±

    ¡°I mean, they are police¡­¡± I pointed out.

    She snorted, ¡°Yeah, I guess that explains it.¡± She ran a hand down her knees, ¡°After the¡­ murder, we¡¯ve started reconnecting. They¡¯ve been there to comfort me and I- and I- I need the inside information.¡±

    So, Fold really was using her prior relationships as an in for restricted police information. It made my gut churn. It was too underhanded for me to be comfortable with. And it was clearly taking a toll on Riley, too.

    ¡°And you¡¯re okay with that?¡± I asked, trying to be as open as I could be.

    Riley grimaced, but nodded anyway, ¡°If that¡¯s what it takes to find out what happened to Celina.¡± She promised, ¡°We need to bring that beast under control.¡±

    ¡°Right you are, Riley!¡± Fold agreed, leaning into the doorway, ¡°The sample¡¯s been taken care of for now, and I need to start calling up labs to see who¡¯ll take this. There¡¯s nothing for you two girls to do anymore.¡±

    ¡°Right then.¡± Riley pulled herself out of the chair, smoothing down her skirts, ¡°I¡¯ll be off. Do you want to walk back with me, Madison?¡±

    I hesitated for a moment. I was just about to accept, but something made me stop. Walking in the real world was the normal, reasonable option. The safer option. But some part of me shuddered at the thought. I had been living in my little flat for three years now, but I had never once walked through the front door. I always just went through the mirror fixed on the inside.

    Even with all that had happened, I refused to open the door. It spoke of a sense of wrongness that I refused to budge from.

    "You go ahead." I told her instead, ¡°I need some time.¡±

    She sent me a look of pity but left anyway, adjusting her straw hat primly. With the number of nerves I showed, it almost seemed like I was the girl whose sister was murdered, and not Riley.

    ¡°I¡¯ll make some tea for you.¡± Fold offered, ¡°Chamomile sound good?¡±

    That was the one with the calming effect, I think. Or was that all types of tea?

    ¡°Sure.¡± I replied, ¡°That¡¯ll do the trick.¡±

    As if by magic, he brought out a teacup already filled to the brim with amber liquid. Steam curled up from it as he held it out expectantly.

    ¡°Did you make this while you were meant to be putting the sample away?¡± I asked, taking the hot cup from him, ¡°What about the gel?¡±

    ¡°How long do you think it takes to transfer fluid to a freezer-safe vial and put it away?¡± Fold laughed, as if the joke was meant to be obvious. It wasn¡¯t obvious to me, as my stony silence made it clear. He coughed awkwardly, ¡°Well, it doesn¡¯t take long.¡± He supplied, ¡°And you looked like you needed it.¡±

    I really did, I realized, as I took my first sip. I knocked the cup back and drained the liquid all in one draught. My throat burned in protest, but all I could wish was that the tea had contained something stronger.

    ¡°Woah, slow down!¡± He laughed, ¡°The drink¡¯s not going anywhere, you know?¡±

    ¡°Sorry.¡± I gasped, putting the now empty cup on the desk. My throat, my tongue, everything was scalded beyond recognition. My voice was now incredibly raspy, which was the exact opposite of what tea was meant to accomplish.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been taking this much harder than I thought you would.¡± He noted, ¡°When I met you on the job, you always seemed so serious and stalwart, I wasn¡¯t expecting a reaction like this.¡±

    ¡°Because delivering mail is a job.¡± I tried to explain to him simply, ¡°I was working, then. In a field I have had experience with for years. And taking advantage of a mode of transport I have been doing for years. Of course, I was more comfortable then.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± He coughed, ¡°That makes sense.¡±

    ¡°Why¡¯re you so comfortable with this, anyhow?¡± I asked, tapping one of the model shark teeth he¡¯d brought in for the bitemark analysis. After their use was completed, it seemed that he had just left them in his stationery holders, ¡°With how enthusiastic you are about this whole operation, I would¡¯ve thought that you were a paranormal investigator by trade. But you¡¯re a detective. Why?¡±

    Fold shrugged, ¡°Just thought it was cool when I was a kid.¡± He explained, ¡°Had an uncle of mine who worked in the police force as a detective. He always encouraged all my questions and musings and stupid little games, and I took quite a shine to his profession.¡±

    ¡°And he isn¡¯t upset at all to know you¡¯re extorting a member of the grand police force using the wiles of a distraught ex-partner?¡± I asked. This didn¡¯t seem like the kind of thing that could be brushed under the rug, morally speaking.

    Fold shifted uncomfortably, ¡°He died. In the line of duty.¡± Was all he could manage out.

    Immediately my stomach dropped like a stone. I hadn¡¯t meant it to blow up like this. Just a stupid little joke. I didn¡¯t imagine¡­

    ¡°Sorry.¡± I whispered.

    ¡°Yeah, well, it happens.¡± He replied, ¡°Shouldn¡¯t apologize to me about it.¡± I thought we were going to dwell in silence for a little while, but instead he immediately moved on, ¡°But, anyways, I¡¯ve always been pushed towards the detective path, you know? People expected it of me, and made arrangements for it my whole life, that it never occurred to me to think about different career prospects. But I always did read too much about all the monsters that went bump in the night for someone who only wanted to be a forensics expert.¡±

    ¡°And this is all some wish fulfillment plan for you?¡± I laughed, playing along with him.

    He cracked a smile, ¡°A little bit, yeah.¡±

    I fell into a hushed fit of giggles. And then, moments later, I recovered and fell somber once more.

    ¡°Before I saw Dave for the last time.¡± I whispered, hardly daring to reveal this wretched truth to the world, ¡°I was in his home. And I looked into the mirror he was preparing to jump into, and I saw something.¡± Fold started beside me, so I had to rush to clarify, ¡°No, not a monster. Not a being of any kind. I saw¡­ I saw Dave. His life, his story, his interests playing out like a vision crafted especially for me. Flashes and flashes that led all the way up to that. Exact. Moment.¡± I had to over-enunciate those last words. Had to rub in exactly how serious this was.

    Because I had said it. After living in denial for the past day, I had admitted it to someone else. And now all of a sudden I was terrified of what he would say. Of whether he would believe me. Or think me mad.

    Luckily, Fold seemed to sense that I was not joking. He nodded along seriously.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know much about mirrors.¡± He explained, ¡°But judging by your reaction, that isn¡¯t normal, is it?¡±

    ¡°Seeing some imagined tragic past?¡± I asked, ¡°No! That¡¯s not normal!¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re sure that its imagined?¡± He challenged, ¡°What if it¡¯s real?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no way to verify that.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure? I bet I can look into his records. Compare details and see if any of this checks out.¡±

    ¡°And if it is?¡± I asked. I was afraid to find out what happened next. Of all the places I¡¯d expected this investigation to go, this absolutely wasn¡¯t it. Magic visions? It was unheard of.

    ¡°Then we¡¯ll deal with it.¡± He comforted, ¡°This¡­ could be something bigger.¡±

    My hands scraped over the rough wooden surface of the desk, feeling out the textured grooves. My head was running at a hundred miles an hour. His words calmed me. Made me think things over at a more sedated pace.

    ¡°If you¡¯re sure.¡± I relented, ¡°Can we juggle this beside the monster hunt investigation?¡±

    ¡°Girl, we¡¯ve barely got two leads. The case won¡¯t suffer for it.¡±

    <hr><hr>

    It started off with a dead actress and a mailwoman grabbed off the street.

    Once the teeth were found, and more corpses started surfacing, the case really took off.

    And then it kept escalating. Body after body. Attack after attack. Previously set rules were all torn and discarded.

    Barely a month later, I find myself running through the maze of mirrored hallways. My shoes are wet, and on top of the smooth glass of the floor, there isn¡¯t any traction. I am slipping in my panic.

    There isn¡¯t any time to slow down. The creature behind me is breathing harshly, its breath hot and heavy on my back. Its claws are clunking against the floor, shredding it without any effort at all. There is blood on my face, I could see it. My fear is spilling over, removing any rational thought in my head.

    It is getting closer. And closer. And-

    <hr><hr>

    I broke my gaze away from my bathroom mirror. My leave-home alarm was ringing, and I¡¯d barely brushed my teeth.

    Needed to leave before I ran late. Didn¡¯t have time to think about the vision from the mirror. I¡¯d have to notify Fold about this new incident later. Maybe this would provide some extra data for us to go on.

    I didn¡¯t know what was more concerning. Whether I could look into the past and the future, or whether I was starting to get delusions.

    Guess all I could do was wait and see. Was I willing to take the risk?

 Detective

    ¡°The best way to start unravelling a situation like this is to run tests.¡± Fold announced, guiding me to an ornate mirror by the shoulders, ¡°Now, peer into the future, will you? Or the past. Whichever suits your prophetic eyes.¡±

    I rolled my eyes, ¡°That¡¯s not how it works.¡±

    ¡°Do you know how it works?¡±

    ¡°Well, I know that¡¯s not it.¡±

    ¡°Just give it a shot, will you?¡± He pressed, ¡°Science is reliant on events that can be recreated. If we can properly observe the phenomenon, then we¡¯ll have something to work off.¡±

    I didn¡¯t really believe him, but I decided to give it a shot anyway. I peered into the smudged surface of the mirror, meeting my own gaze in the reflection. If I tilted my head just right, sometimes the light would pass into the world of hallways behind it, giving me a faint look inside it. Nothing definitive. Just murky depths.

    I tried to force a vision. Tried to remember the sensation of passive observation that overtook me with every episode. But nothing happened. My eyes bored a hole into my head, and even as I tried to avoid my own gaze, they continued to follow me. Haunting me with their bored constancy.

    For someone who spends so much time around mirrors, I found that I despised my own reflection.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t working.¡± I sighed, taking a step back, ¡°Something¡¯s wrong. I can¡¯t figure it out.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s okay.¡± Fold assured me, ¡°Let¡¯s move onto something else. Think we can begin the search for this mud-rain place you mentioned finding both bodies near?¡±

    ¡°I can try.¡± I agreed, ¡°But I¡¯m not sure where I¡¯ll pop out, so stay ready for a call, will you?¡±

    ¡°For you, I won¡¯t even leave the apartment.¡± Fold agreed benevolently, as if he even left his home for any reason other than a field call.

    I let him play the fool, instead moving towards the full-body transportation mirror. I tapped my fingers along its smooth wooden frame as parting salute, ¡°And for God¡¯s sake, man, shut the blinds while I¡¯m gone.¡±

    He scoffed incredulously, but moved to follow my request as I swept through the reflective veil. Behind me, the plastic panels slid down to bar any intruders.

    Instead of setting off to look for the muddy brown rain-torn landscape, my first stop was the hospital. Specifically, the room where Dave was being kept. I had been mentally sketching the path from Fold¡¯s study mirror and the mirror on the wall of Dave¡¯s hospital room that I could easily make the trip. Every bend and slope and step was engraved in my mind, to the point where I wasn¡¯t sure whether I had remembered the path correctly, or whether the hallways were rearranging themselves to my liking.

    Was that self-centered of me to think? Well, that was simply an observation, wrought from years and years of walking through these ever-changing pathways, which somehow never seemed any different from one another. They always felt like they could hear my thoughts, so it wasn¡¯t weird to think about.

    When I stepped through the mirror, a nurse was leaning over Dave¡¯s bed to arrange the tubes connected to his face. She jumped in shock when she caught sight of my, nearly yanking the heart monitor off Dave¡¯s wrist. A sharp whine filled the air.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± She demanded angrily, ¡°I¡¯ll call security otherwise.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s my friend.¡± I replied, drinking in the view of Dave lying on the bed. Unconscious, but very thankfully alive.

    ¡°Sure¡­¡± The nurse nodded, clearly not believing me, ¡°I will still have to ask you to leave. Visitors only allowed through the physical entrance.¡±

    I nodded, a knot building up in my throat.

    ¡°Well, if you¡¯re going to be like that, then you should take the mirror out.¡± I added, ¡°Otherwise you¡¯re just asking him to die.¡± And then I stomped back into the hallways.

    From there, I began the search for the place where I had found Dave. The blood pools were all gone, according to Riley¡¯s inside information, so all I had to lead me now were the surroundings and the half-remembered smears of muddy rain and flooded landscape.

    I remember specifically the background looked exactly the same between each incident. But did that mean that the area was locked in constant rain? Or that the deaths only happened when it began raining in that area? There were only two instances of this happening, but that was enough time for me to sit up and take notice.

    I paced for hours, but not a glimpse of that distinctive muddy world caught my eye. There was nothing there I could see. Maybe the world had disappeared completely once the monster had no use for it.

    <hr><hr>

    When Henry Maximillian was eighteen years old, he took up a summer job. He had always been geared towards the detective route of things, and some connections in his family had gotten him involved with spare jobs in local community services.

    He ended up picking up animal control. Walking, feeding, and cleaning future specially trained dogs that were still in training.

    There were police dogs, guard dogs, and service dogs under his care. He needed to keep them all organized and serious on every walk and keep track of which dogs were having trouble staying focused during outside excursions.

    One group of dogs were a bit different from his other wards. He had them only one day a week, on Fridays, and picked them up from the animal center, walked them around the cul-de-sac for two hours, and then circled over to a public research facility where the dogs were regularly housed.

    He didn¡¯t know what they were there for. Not then, anyway.

    But a year later, Henry was called into that facility to help control the dogs. That was when he learned the truth.

    ¡°Bring them here, kid.¡± A man in a lab coat directed him through large winding hallways inside the facility. There were mirrors all over the walls, on the ceiling, even the floor. Henry¡¯s reflection stared back at him from every angle as he walked through, the dogs¡¯ nails clicked sharply on the floor as they walked along with him.

    ¡°Can I ask what¡¯s with the mirrors or is it restricted?¡± He asked, feeling another chill travel up his spine.

    ¡°We¡¯re running tests on having animals travel into the mirror realm.¡± The doctor volunteered easily, ¡°Training police dogs to dive in and pursue criminals.¡±

    Ohhh, that made a lot more sense than all the sinister plans he¡¯d been coming up with in his head. A lot more innocent, too. He¡¯d heard about reflection-hopping before. It was all over media, even though actual reflection hopping was nowhere to be seen in his town.

    ¡°And it¡¯s¡­ safe?¡± He asked. There was something about animals that made it impossible for them to invade the mirrors, right? He didn¡¯t know all the details, except for that werewolf reflection-hopping show he¡¯d been obsessed with for years.

    ¡°Of course!¡± The scientist agreed, ¡°We¡¯ve been carefully calibrating an animal-safe set of reflection-hopping charms, and we¡¯re getting close.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡± Henry blinked, ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d get that far yet.¡±

    The scientist leaned his head back to bark out a laugh, ¡°Innovation waits for no man.¡± He replied, ¡°Its moving faster than the media can keep up!¡±

    ¡°How fast?¡±

    ¡°Now that¡¯s a restricted question.¡± The scientist joked, ¡°You¡¯ll have to join the project for real if you want to know more.¡±

    Henry fidgeted with the multi-leash carabiner.

    ¡°No, I want to be a detective.¡± He replied, ¡°Or into forensics, at least.¡±

    The grizzled scientist sighed, ¡°All the promising ones have dreams like that.¡± He lamented, ¡°You¡¯ll regret it one day, when our specially trained animals become the newest innovation in the police industry.¡±

    Fold didn¡¯t have anything to say that. It was an interesting concept, for certain, but that wasn¡¯t something that struck joy in him. He was just content with watching from the sidelines as all these new tricks were wheeled out for the world to admire.

    After summer, he moved on to college. Finally began training for his career of train for real. But he still kept an eye on the magazines and newspapers, eager to see the new rollout of reflection-hopping animals.

    Years passed as he waited. They never came. It was endlessly disappointing.

    Later, when he started doing consultancies for the police, he found that they never existed. Instead, there was the gateway. A secret project considered to be even more impossible than animals getting through the mirror. It shook him to his very core.

    <hr><hr>

    There was only one proper reflection I could find with rain in it. It showed the view directly outside a museum however, so it couldn¡¯t be the place I had spotted.

    No, the more concerning thing I had stumbled over was the vision. The third time this week. It was getting more and more frequent with every passing day. I should maybe contact a psychiatrist.

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    But also, wasn¡¯t Henry Maximillian Fold¡¯s real name?

    I should ask him about that, see if the details lined up. I knew for sure that he had never told me any of these things before, and while we were having trouble verifying exactly what Dave¡¯s background was, he would easily be able to check out anything I had seen about him. It was an easy fix!

    ¡°Any luck?¡± Fold asked as I sauntered into his office, snapping the blinds shut behind me.

    ¡°Not really.¡± I shook my head, pouring some of his instant coffee sachets into a cup.

    ¡°Yeah, wasn¡¯t expecting anything on the first day.¡± He admitted, ¡°But at least you know the places to avoid now?¡±

    ¡°The place can¡¯t be graphed.¡± I reminded him, ¡°Maps are impossible, and places are hard to not double over.¡±

    ¡°Why do we think this system is so efficient, again?¡± He complained tiredly. I took a breath and bit the bullet.

    ¡°Not to make this a pattern every time I come back emptyhanded, but I managed something else.¡± He perked up immediately, and I continued, ¡°Another vision. From the past, this time.¡±

    ¡°Dave¡¯s again?¡± Fold asked.

    ¡°Yours, actually.¡±

    He raised his eyebrows, ¡°Oh? What was the memory?¡±

    ¡°You were eighteen.¡± I explained, casting my mind out to think it over, ¡°And then nineteen, eventually. Walking dogs over the summers for specialized research facilities?¡±

    ¡°I did, actually.¡± He confirmed easily, an excited gleam in his eyes, ¡°But never told you about this. So that¡¯s already giving these visions of yours some validity. Was it just the dog walking? Because I can think of some things connected to that job, but I don¡¯t want to guide you along.¡±

    I hesitated for a second, looking him in the eye, ¡°They were training dogs to go through it. Scientists said that they were incredibly close. But then they just dropped the project like a hot stone.¡±

    He snapped his fingers in delight, ¡°Yes! That¡¯s exactly it! You understand what this means, right?¡±

    Fold looked into my eyes so excitedly that I almost felt bad when I shook my head. He sagged a little, but continued nevertheless, ¡°This means that these visions are deliberate! Someone wants you to see all these things.¡±

    ¡°About a failed program with some police dogs?¡± I asked, ¡°Everyone¡¯s heard of the stories of those, you know? I¡¯m not surprised to hear that they actually were real. They just didn¡¯t work. No need for us to start digging up old cases like that.¡±

    ¡°Well, did you ever consider how they failed?¡± Fold pressed, stubborn as a mule.

    I repressed a shudder, my mind immediately constructing visions of mutilated doggy bodies. Those poor things, they didn¡¯t deserve an end like that.

    ¡°Considering it makes me sick, so I¡¯m not going to.¡±

    ¡°Yes, well, your nausea is a good clue as to where we should be heading towards, so maybe we do need to stick our noses into this matter.¡± He decided, not even taking my opinions into account. There was no making him stop now.

    ¡°But what does it mean?¡± I asked, ¡°If the visions are being chosen deliberately, the others were meant to convey some sort of message, too. So, what was it?¡±

    Fold nodded and pulled out another one of his spiral-bound wide-lined notebooks and a charcoal pencil. His favorite medium of writing.

    ¡°Let¡¯s take it from the top, shall we?¡± He asked, ¡°Three visions. Two from the past, one from the future. The first was a biographical account for Dave Mitchells. The second a vision of you running through the hallways. This one was much more immersive. Presented to you in first person, even as you looked into the mirror. And the third was this one. A clue that we desperately needed. What¡¯s the connection?¡±

    I sat down in the chair across from him, thinking it over, ¡°They were both warnings.¡± I realized. It was so obvious!

    ¡°What makes you think that?¡± He asked.

    ¡°The first one, it was picking out the parts that were important to Dave.¡± I explained, ¡°Gave me a look into his thought process and motivations. Connected us in a way that we hadn¡¯t been able to in a few sparse days. The idea was to spur me into protecting him. By reminding me of his vulnerabilities or something, I don¡¯t know. But I- I didn¡¯t.¡±

    I had failed. A mysterious and powerful character had reached out to me to protect this man, and I had failed. Didn¡¯t even try, for the matter. Completely missed the signs.

    ¡°And the second?¡± Fold prompted.

    ¡°Are you stupid?¡± I snapped, the stress of the situation already creeping up on me, ¡°A glimpse into the future where I¡¯m being chased by a monster? How is that not a warning?!¡±

    ¡°Sorry.¡± He wiped a hand down his face, ¡°This case is starting to wear away at my common sense.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll say.¡± I snorted, elbowing him in a desperate bid to cut the tension hanging low in the room.

    ¡°So, there¡¯s a sentient being behind the visions.¡± He announced, ¡°Do you think we should start trying to find it?¡±

    ¡°No! Monster, remember?¡± I told him, ¡°You need to stop getting sidetracked or we won¡¯t solve any investigation.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m trying my best, alright?¡± He pouted like a child, ¡°You need to understand this whole situation is a feeding ground for questions and mysteries that are all begging to be solved and aired out to the world.¡±

    ¡°Methinks you¡¯re just trying to get money from all the newspapers begging for the scoop.¡± A charming and airy voice laughed. Riley strode inside, hanging up her pink cashmere sweater on the coat hanger.

    ¡°Wait, you can do that?¡± I asked.

    Fold shrunk in on himself, ¡°Maybe.¡±

    Riley snorted, ¡°Read: that¡¯s where he¡¯s planning on recouping all the money he¡¯s losing on this case.¡±

    ¡°Listen, we all have bills to pay and food to eat.¡± Fold defended himself with no small amount of shame, ¡°You gonna fault me for that?¡±

    I didn¡¯t reply, staring at him until he started having the good sense to be concerned, ¡°I want a cut of the profits.¡± I told him, once the nervous sweats had started.

    ¡°There isn¡¯t going to be that much of a profit-!¡± He gave up before he even finished the sentence, ¡°¡­Fine.¡±

    ¡°No cut for the good spy?¡± Riley egged him on.

    ¡°You¡¯re a nepo baby, so you don¡¯t need a cut.¡± He told her primly.

    ¡°I¡¯m the one carrying the heavy duty scoop you need, you know?¡± Riley rolled her eyes, ¡°At least try to suck up to me a little bit or I¡¯m going to think I¡¯m redundant.¡±

    ¡°Of course you¡¯re not!¡± Fold scrambled to assure her, ¡°There¡¯s a scoop? You got something for us?¡±

    Riley grabbed another chair and dragged it to the desk with one hand, all of her attention fixed on riffling through her purse. Finally, she threw down a crumpled fax report for internal police updates. The handwriting was cramped, messy, and had a lot of abbreviations and shorthand thrown into it. Fold had no trouble parsing through it, though, with his years of police experience.

    ¡°Sam got this while we were having lunch.¡± Riley explained, ¡°They didn¡¯t say what it meant, but got all panicky and tightlipped, and they¡¯re only like that when it¡¯s something to do with the mirror monster case. So I thought I¡¯d grab it on my way out.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re right.¡± Fold agreed, ¡°This is a report of another body. Fully dead by the time it happened. Murdered outside of the hallways, but the corpse was stuck in stasis on the inside. Matches the MO of the killers, so it¡¯s all systems go. They¡¯re planning on skipping regular protocol and begin the search from the outside.¡±

    Fold cursed, pushing himself upright, ¡°This isn¡¯t good. We don¡¯t have any time to sneak around and gather any clues the beast left behind. Everything¡¯s going to land in their evidence box to nowhere!¡±

    ¡°Stop panicking, Fold, I¡¯m sure they keep the evidence.¡± I tried to assure him, ¡°It¡¯d be really irresponsible if they didn¡¯t, you know?¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t really matter whether they keep it or not, Maddy, it¡¯s more that we won¡¯t be able to get it.¡± Riley explained, chewing on an extended fingernail in anxiety, ¡°I¡¯ve been playing Sam like a damn fiddle, but even they¡¯re going to draw the line at volunteering information as specific as that.¡±

    ¡°But what can we do?¡±

    ¡°Nothing.¡± Fold ran a hand through his hair, ¡°It¡¯s a complete dead end.¡±

    I stood up sharply, ¡°Not if I catch up to them.¡± I pointed out, rushing over to the blind covered mirrors and whipping them open inelegantly. I could make it if I rushed. Spy on them. Maybe we¡¯d even end up at the same rain-filled mud land I had seen around all the other victims.

    The hallways twisted and slanted, and I knew that I was being guided straight towards the spot where the body was, the halls all coming to life in response to my desperation. There was no reason for me to come to this conclusion, but I could feel it in my bones.

    Electricity sparked through the air. A dull feeling stirred in my gut. Something was about to go horribly wrong, and I knew it. So did the hallways. Or whoever was communicating through them to me.

    The hallway I was in began to shrink. This was not an unusual thing to happen, so when it brushed the top of my head, I simply ducked my head down. That soon progressed to having to fully crouch down, and then had to begin crawling along on my knees.

    A bright opening came up a few minutes after I had to resort to that. Except it didn¡¯t lead to a corridor. It just cut off midair, several tens of feet above the unforgivingly hard ground. And the squad of police all over the area below. The walls around them really were the exact same medley of greenish brown muddy rain that I had seen around both Minto and Dave.

    I nearly crawled my way directly into the bloodied crime scene, but I managed to back away at the right time, tucking myself into the tiny alcove I had found, watching and waiting just out of sight.

    There were very few people there, compared to the closeknit fleets that had gone to each crime scene inside the hallways. Barely ten people, if I had to guess. They were more relaxed, joking around and slacking off. Probably had gotten tired of all the theatrics at this point.

    The future vision lingered in my mind. Complacency was followed by danger.

    A few of them wandered back towards the gateway, yet still I watched, taking note of the police as they wandered away in groups and trios. The numbers dwindled down. First into seven, then five, then three.

    And then, finally, there were only two.

    They didn¡¯t seem to consider this situation to be alien at all, continuing to snap pictures and measure the silhouette of the fallen corpse. But I could have cut through the tension with a knife. Tension only I could feel. Me and the blurry inside of the tunnel, which was swirling in distress and had turned an ugly purple color. And it takes a lot to make purple look ugly, in my opinion.

    Still, they talked below her. Made merry. There was a police dog accompanying them, I could hear it whining and pattering its paws. I didn¡¯t want the poor thing to go through whatever these people were about to.

    I didn¡¯t want me to go through whatever these people were about to go through.

    But I knew it was going to come eventually. I could run and try to avoid it, but something kept me rooted to the spot. Not the mysterious mirror person, but something intrinsic to me. A curiosity that was brewing inside.

    For a few minutes, I thought nothing would happen. That it would all really be alright.

    Then the pattering of the police dog¡¯s paws stopped. And then it began howling. Loud, sharp, breaking the quiet of the constantly muffled hallways and tearing its sanctity to shreds.

    At least the police seemed to notice that this was a bad thing, too. I could hear one of them cursing under his breath and moving to cover the dog¡¯s mouth.

    But the howls only got louder and louder, echoing more and more through the never-ending hallways until it reached a crescendo that sounded more monster than dog.

    And then, there was silence. The howls just stopped. Cut off mid-breath by a vicious tug on the leash.

    I didn¡¯t see what had happened, cowering away in my tiny alcove. My eyes had been trained on the police officers for so long yet when the moment came for it, the noise had reached such a pitch as to make my eyes water. The sound worked its way into my brain, deafening every thought I had. It was too loud, too bright, and too much was happening all at the same time.

    My eyes squeezed shut, desperate to turn off at least one source of distress. It was only for a few, brief seconds, but in that time, the howling had already been wiped out.

    I had missed the actual monster.

    There wasn¡¯t any extra noise to tip me off about what the monster could be. No sounds of feet or paws or hooves. Nothing hissed or crunched or snarled. Neither of the police officers even screamed in horror. One second, the dog was howling. And then it stopped. Because the dog was gone. Whisked away by the killing creature of the hallways.

    It left behind the policemen, at least. But they weren¡¯t alive. They were both sprawled over, dead, and covered with bitemarks. At least nothing was bitten off, otherwise I would¡¯ve thrown up for the third time in this increasingly terrifying week.

    A hysterical part of my brain couldn¡¯t help but notice that one of them was posed perfectly as to fit inside the silhouette of the corpse that had been painted onto the ground.

    I began walking backwards through the discrete tunnel I had found myself in. If the monster was still watching and hadn¡¯t found me yet, I wasn¡¯t going to make myself anymore obvious than I had already been.

    After all, I had figured out its game. I knew exactly what it was, or at least I had a pretty good hypothesis in place. All I needed to do was get this information to Fold, and its game would come crashing down.

 The Dog

    A bright spotlight shone into my eyes, nearly blinding me.

    ¡°Say it again.¡± Fold demanded, stalking around behind the halo of light.

    The chair had high armrests, and I clutched at them, their rough texture providing a grounding anchor for my storm of thoughts.

    ¡°The monster¡­¡± I whispered, ¡°The monster in the mirrors is a dog.¡±

    A sharp click, and the lamp in my face blinked off, leaving spots all over my vision. The recording equipment set up all around me was pulled away by Fold as he began wrapping up all the stuff and shoving it back into the cupboard he¡¯d whipped it out from.

    ¡°Great, what was all that for?¡± Riley asked, watching the entire production over the frame of her glasses.

    ¡°Needed to get it on tape.¡± Fold explained, clicking out a tape from one of the cameras, ¡°To provide a solid testimony.¡±

    ¡°They won¡¯t believe me in-person, you think a recording is going to work?¡± I asked. I had agreed to it when he had given the idea, but that didn¡¯t convince me that this would have any effect.

    ¡°It¡¯ll work if you die and this is your post-mortem testimony.¡± Fold told her. My heart jumped to my throat.

    ¡°Don¡¯t say things like that, Fold.¡± Riley frowned at him, ¡°She¡¯s scared enough as it is.¡±

    Fold nodded, looking genuinely apologetic, ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Maybe this is getting too intense. But you need to consider, after your stunt just now, it might just happen.¡±

    Yes, I knew that. The target on my back had been burning a hole into my back ever since the howling had started for real.

    ¡°I still don¡¯t understand. Why do you think there¡¯s a dog?¡± Riley asked, ¡°Because I¡¯ve heard the entire story, and I still don¡¯t get it. There was noise, and then there wasn¡¯t. No hint of a dog at all.¡±

    ¡°The howling.¡± I explained, ¡°It got loud, and at first, I thought it was an echo. Lots of reflective surfaces for sound to bounce off, very quiet area, of course a loud sound would seem deafening in there.¡±

    ¡°But¡­?¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t just the police dog¡¯s howls.¡± I continued, ¡°Something was screaming back through the void. And it was really mad.¡±

    ¡°And also invisible, if you are to be believed.¡± Fold noted, ¡°Any idea how an invisible dog got stuck in there?¡±

    I levelled a blank look at him. He clicked his tongue.

    ¡°Right, police experimentation on animals. I should have guessed that already.¡±

    ¡°Why would you have guessed it?¡± Riley asked, ¡°It¡¯s a fantastical idea. Out of this world, almost.¡±

    Fold and I stared at each other in bafflement. Had we truly forgotten to tell Riley about the mirror visions? It had completely slipped my mind.

    ¡°I worked for a project involving dogs being sent to the mirror hallways.¡± Fold explained hurriedly, ¡°The hypothesis I¡¯m working with is that one of these dogs suffered an accident, which has led to the monster in the hallways.¡±

    ¡°Prudent.¡± Riley hummed, tapping her chin.

    I could see what Fold was doing. Giving her an explanation so that I had an out. Removing any pressure to tell her about what I was going through. But he didn¡¯t need to. I could deal with people knowing.

    ¡°Also, there¡¯s another thing.¡± I fidgeted with my fingers, ¡°We think some¡­ other kind of creature ¨C maybe the mirrors themselves, maybe a person, maybe something else entirely, I don¡¯t know ¨C is attempting to communicate with me through the mirrors. Showing me things from the past. From the future. Giving me warnings and guiding our investigation along.¡±

    That made her sit up and take notice.

    ¡°Are you sure they¡¯re friendly?¡± She asked, ¡°This thing¡­ they could be sabotaging you. Gaining your trust to throw the entire investigation off the rails.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t like that thought hadn¡¯t occurred to me before now, but I didn¡¯t even want to contemplate something like that.

    ¡°The first time I saw one of these visions, it was pointing me towards Dave. Telling me to protect him.¡± I began hollowly, ¡°I just didn¡¯t stand up and take notice until too late. And he¡¯s- and he¡¯s-¡± I couldn¡¯t bring myself to say it. Riley squeezed her eyes shut and offered her hand out in comfort. I took it, but only because it looked like she needed the solid touch, too.

    ¡°I could¡¯ve saved him.¡± I whispered, head hanging low.

    ¡°Okay, so we put our trust in mirror-person.¡± Riley decided, ¡°I really wish you guys had told me this before, really, because this could have been written into my cue cards ages ago.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, what?¡± I blinked. Even Fold seemed to be thrown for a loop, nodding along with me.

    Riley rolled her eyes, ¡°Cue cards! For all the interviews and activism I¡¯m doing. Action 210 is going to be voted upon next week, and everyone¡¯s desperate to hear from the family of the superstar who kicked it all of. I¡¯ve been preparing everything for weeks now.¡±

    ¡°When? You¡¯ve been sleuthing for us the whole time!¡± Fold replied, waving his hands around in outrage.

    ¡°I can multitask, dude.¡± She laughed, already pulling out a pack of cream-colored flashcards from a pocket in her dress, flipping through them frantically, ¡°Okay, okay, I¡¯ll have to plant of seed of consideration into people¡¯s minds without sounding like I¡¯ve totally drunk the Koolaid. I might be able to insert it here, though, so what do you think of ¡®it is my belief that the mirrors as a whole are benign by nature. The actions of the users is not reflective of the intentions for which it was discovered and popularized¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Take out the reflective pun, otherwise it¡¯s chill.¡± Fold agreed. My mind was still whirling in confusion. I had almost forgotten about Action 210. Or, well, I hadn¡¯t forgotten it. It was hard to forget something when the posters followed me everywhere in the halls and outside. But I had just given up on that front. Been content to sit by the sidelines and watch as conditions worsened and worsened.

    Yet here Riley was, trying to change it for the better. Something I had never thought I could do, so hellbent on proving the innocence of the mirrors that I had lost sight of the imminent threat of my livelihood.

    ¡°That¡¯s brave of you.¡± I managed out, trying to disguise my shaking hands, ¡°I don¡¯t think I could do something like that.¡±

    ¡°Sure you can, you do brave stuff all the time!¡± Riley insisted, swinging around to grab me by the shoulders, ¡°You went looking for my sister, all by yourself. Even when you didn¡¯t have to and it wasn¡¯t your problem and we could¡¯ve gotten someone else to do it eventually. That¡¯s brave, you know? I could never do that, either.¡±

    ¡°But that¡¯s because you don¡¯t know how to reflection hop.¡± I told her, ¡°Tell me you wouldn¡¯t give it your best shot if you could do it now?¡±

    Riley screwed her mouth shut, clearly stuck in a battle between badmouthing herself and encouraging me. Finally, it was Fold who interrupted her dilemma.

    ¡°It¡¯s not a competition or a debate, guys. Us being here and sticking around is a better testament for how brave we are to be doing this.¡± He insisted, ¡°And all that work is about to go splat, so chop chop.¡±

    ¡°I know I¡¯m partially paying you to take the lead here, but that doesn¡¯t mean you get to boss me around.¡± Riley grumbled, gathering up her cue cards, ¡°We¡¯ve all got our plans in motion, yeah? Got the itinerary set up and ready to go?¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡± I agreed, more as a reflex than anything. I was still stuck on finding the rainy place that served as the backdrop for every attack, and Fold was now focusing all his energy on the ¡®mirror dog¡¯ hypothesis. Riley had been relegated towards more route-finding and digging up specific information about old police mirror and animal experiments. But that last one might have to wait for a bit, if she was to make her interviews like she had told us.

    ¡°We¡¯ll make do without you.¡± Fold assured her, ¡°Just come back with something in a week, alright?¡±

    Riley¡¯s eyes flared underneath the brim of her straw hat, ¡°I¡¯ll make it in half the time.¡± She promised, marching out of the office with the poise I had only ever seen from a Minto. She really was incredibly cool.

    ¡°Okay, so let¡¯s split up, too.¡± Fold told me, ¡°I¡¯ll go to the library and you do¡­ whatever you do.¡±

    I nodded sharply and spun around to head towards the mirror, but Fold reached forward and grabbed me by the hand. It wasn¡¯t a harsh grip, but there was desperation in his eyes that stopped me from immediately yanking it off.

    ¡°Not to butt in on your business, but you¡¯ve just been through a very traumatic event.¡± He whispered, ¡°It hasn¡¯t even been a full day. Maybe- maybe don¡¯t go there, just yet?¡±

    He was scared, I realized after a beat. He was scared for my wellbeing. And he had every right to be. Just weeks ago, I had violently thrown up over a situation much less grotesque than this, and I hadn¡¯t been any better in the days after. By all rights and purposes, I shouldn¡¯t have shaken it off as easily as I had now. But I had.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    And all I could think to myself was how badly I wanted to bring this beast to justice. There wasn¡¯t any fear anymore. Just pent-up anger that had nowhere to go.

    Still, I supposed that I wasn¡¯t really over the shock of it all, yet. Two people had died in front of my eyes mere hours ago. I wasn¡¯t supposed to bounce back from that easily. Maybe the adrenaline running through my system was messing up my judgement. So, I nodded back to him.

    ¡°Fine. Maybe I do need a break. I¡¯ll¡­ go grab some coffee.¡±

    He raised an eyebrow, ¡°I doubt I need to tell you that that¡¯s not going to help your nerves, but sure, do that if you think it¡¯ll help.¡±

    I wrinkled my nose at him and marched out through the door, just like Riley had done minutes ago. If she was any other person, I¡¯d almost expect her to be waiting outside to give me a pep talk or check in or something, but Riley had obviously rushed off, not even taking notice of the things she had dropped on the way. I picked up the stray glove and ticket stubs she must have left behind in her rush to and shoved them into my pockets. They probably weren¡¯t important if she¡¯d overlooked them so easily, but I figured that she wouldn¡¯t mind if I returned them.

    Wandering through the city was much more time-consuming than the hallways. Much louder, smellier, and harsh in every sense of the word, too. Yet still, I walked. Soon, this might become the only reality I knew. That scared me a little.

    Out of spite, I went to a local store and got myself a coffee. Bet they were glad for the extra business, even if it wasn¡¯t medically acceptable or whatever. After that, though, there was nothing left to do. I had applied for a leave from the post office, even if it opened me up for termination with the rising tension around reflection-hopping. There wasn¡¯t any work to do.

    Like I had always done in the hallways, I allowed my mind to drift and my feet to wander. And they led straight me to the hospital where Dave was being kept.

    The nurse recognized me, and she shot me a dirty look, but there was nothing she could do about it. I had walked in and signed at the visitors¡¯ entry just as protocol demanded.

    Inside the room, Dave was¡­ awake.

    I froze in my tracks, scarcely daring to believe it. But my eyes weren¡¯t seeing things. Dave really was sitting up slightly in bed, his eyes slightly open and pupils flicking around sluggishly. He didn¡¯t seem to be completely aware, but he was there. Alive, healthy, and lucid, at least. Even short an arm.

    ¡°Hey, buddy.¡± I whispered, ¡°How¡¯re you doing?¡±

    His eyes shifted over to me, but he didn¡¯t say anything in response. Didn¡¯t even react, except for a slight clenching of his jaw.

    ¡°He¡¯s nonresponsive.¡± The attending nurse told me, looking at me as if I was daft, ¡°Up to his ears in sedatives. He can see you, and he¡¯ll react a bit, but he won¡¯t be able to communicate.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s okay.¡± I whispered, ¡°I¡¯m just glad that he¡¯s alive.¡± And I really was. It was enough to make eye contact with my friend and lay my hand on his. Dave was awake, and that was enough.

    The nurse seemed to understand, her gaze softening as she took in the scene, ¡°I suppose that¡¯s all anyone would want, if their friend managed to survive¡­ that.¡±

    Of course, she knew about the mirror monster. Everyone knew. It was all over the newspapers. Reporters gave live updates about the situation with every public development. At least those made by civil service departments. No one gave notice to the investigation being carried out by Maximillian Investigates.

    ¡°Yes.¡± I nodded, taking a moment to smooth Dave¡¯s hair back before stepping away, ¡°I¡¯ll see you later, Dave. Be lucid next time, will you?¡±

    He didn¡¯t seem to comprehend the question, head lolling to the side. The nurse rushed past me to adjust his body against the bed, so it was hard to tell whether that was on purpose or not.

    ¡°Have a good day, too.¡± I nodded to the nurse. She cracked a smile back.

    <hr>

    Once I left the hospital, I tried to go directly to a mirror. Unfortunately, any mirror that I could have comfortably fit in was restricted from outsiders. Even the mirrors on sharp corners had barriers around them so that if anyone tried to reach over to jump into it, they would make a big scene.

    So, I flagged down a cab. The cabbie gave a fair charge, but the very thought of paying to do something I did for free every day of the week chafed on me.

    The radio played, crackling audio filling the silence between us. It took me a moment to realize that instead of regular classic tunes, the channel he had selected was a talk show of some sort. A talk show with a very familiar voice speaking over it.

    ¡°My sister¡¯s death. It was a tragedy.¡± Came Riley¡¯s quivering voice. She sounded close to tears, a stark difference from her serious and calm demeanor just an hour ago. How much had changed in that time?

    I was consumed by the urge to call her up immediately and check in on her mental state. But there wasn¡¯t a payphone nearby and I sure wasn¡¯t going to stop the cab for this. No, all I could do was sit tight and continue listening.

    Riley Minto continued to sniffle, ¡°She was so passionate about everything she committed herself to. Even the worst production she was ever part of, she threw herself into it with great gusto.¡±

    ¡°She sounds like she was an incredible person.¡± The host of the show murmured in comfort.

    ¡°She really was.¡± Riley agreed, followed by a honking sound that almost sounded like she was blowing her nose, ¡°And she doesn¡¯t do this light-heartedly. She¡¯d never commit herself to an activity that would have caused death and destruction in the way that people are making it seem.¡±

    For a striking moment, I wondered if Riley was lying. Not lying about Celina¡¯s character, of course. But lying about her current reaction. There was no way she could be genuinely sobbing her eyes out in an impersonal studio. I refused to believe it.

    I resolved to ask her about it tomorrow. Or whenever we next crossed paths. In the meantime, though¡­

    ¡°Can you change the station?¡± I asked the cabbie. He grunted in response but complied. The dulcet tones of smooth jazz began playing over the tinny speakers.

    I settled down and let my thoughts run wild. It was harder without the heavy pounding of feet against smooth marble and the feeling of moving under my own strength, but I managed it somehow.

    Soon, the cab stopped in front of the park. I paid, wrapped my brown coat closer to my chest and wandered out into the endless greenery. There was a lake in the middle of the park, and that was the reason I had come here. There weren¡¯t many people at this time of year, so it cut down the chances of me being seen by any busybodies.

    The lake waters were steady and calm, creating a perfect reflection of the entire world. I wandered onto the pier and looked into the deep blue waters. Big eyes blinked back, not giving any hint at what lay beneath. Better than a glass reflection, at least.

    Going through water reflections is a very touch and go thing. On one hand, you knew it worked, because a lot of hallways inside the mirrors were made up using reflections from puddles and pools and other water bodies. On the other hand, if you missed the reflection, then you¡¯re going to end up soaked.

    Still, there was nothing to be done about it. I stuck one foot forward, edging it closer and closer to the water¡¯s surface, which rippled menacingly. Just a slight movement, but enough to disrupt the image I was planning to reach into.

    I gritted my teeth and pushed myself off the pier. Wind whistled through my ears, and then my toes touched wet, warm water. I had missed. I was going to drown. Time slowed down, but my body continued falling, more water spraying up, splashing around my body as I went down like an anchor. My eyes closed on instinct, but nothing more than spray hit me. I was still falling. Something was wrong.

    The idea barely struck me when I whipped my eyes open. Too late. The solid, glistening floor was coming closer and closer to me with every passing moment.

    I landed with a crunch, breaking my nose upon impact. A weak whimper slipped out of my mouth as I reeled backwards, clutching my nose. Warm dark blood was splattering on the ground. A headache was working its way through my mind. Was it a concussion?

    Pinching my nose managed to stop the nosebleed, and I rolled onto my back to catch my breath. At least there didn¡¯t seem to be a head wound or anything. But there was mildewy dampness working through my clothes that made it obvious that I had been hit by a major spray of water when going through the lake¡¯s reflection. I hadn¡¯t thought to account for the fall from the horizontal reflection. Rookie mistake, I know, but there was nothing to be done about it.

    No point in bothering to continue the search today. I¡¯d have to go to the hospital and get myself checked for a concussion. The dog would have to wait another day.

    I sat up, taking care not to lean against a reflection and risk slipping through to the other side. My eyes followed the amorphous, fuzzy reflections surrounding me. The hallways were a bad place to be concussed, with the bright light and psychedelic imagery coming from every direction.

    There was something different about one of the mirrors, I realized. It didn¡¯t have a natural reflection. This was fabricated. Another vision from the helper in the mirrors. What was the message this time?

    I squinted at the blurry image ¨C or was it my vision that was blurry? I wasn¡¯t sure ¨C and tried to make out what was happening in the mirror.

    There was a factory of some kind, I guessed, after heavy deliberation. Lots of smoke coming out of chimneys, trucks rolling around piled high with chopped down trees. Oddly enough, there didn¡¯t seem to be any person in the vision. Usually, I was shown people I knew, walked through a scene with their emotions projecting out of the mirror in some sort of telepathic manner I still couldn¡¯t understand.

    This time, I wasn¡¯t even given the courtesy of a person at all. Just the factory, puffing away with regular activity, with no hint as to what it even produced. There wasn¡¯t a sign that I could see, nothing with any names on it, or any other way to identify it. What could it have to do with this mess?

    I was so tired of this game of abstract charades we were playing. Had been playing for days now.

    ¡°Hey?¡± I called out, by throat straining against the effort as I broke the funereal silence of the hallways, ¡°Could we stop with the games and just speak with real words? You can write it down if you can¡¯t speak!¡±

    Nothing moved. Instead, another reflection changed to show the face of an actor, looking off to the side and putting a finger on his lips. Another one of the visions, it seemed. And it wanted me to be quiet.

    Why?

    The phantom echo of the dog¡¯s howls rang in my head. Oh, yes, that made sense. The mirror monster was attracted by noise. Hence, I had to stay quiet. But I needed my answers anyway, so I continued stubbornly, but in a much lower voice.

    ¡°Listen, I won¡¯t shout again, but would you please come out and talk to me?¡± I whisper-shouted, ¡°Some plain words would seriously help me out here!¡±

    No response. The line was clear. It wasn¡¯t going to tell me what it was or how it did anything. I groaned and got back onto my feet. I couldn¡¯t pass out here. That was just asking for an accident of some kind. I needed to go¡­ somewhere.

    I passed over a reflection on the floor, a cascading mosaic of tiny, fragmented scenes, all coming together in a way that was characteristic of a chandelier. This one, when I peered into it, seemed to be from the Medley National Theater. Or at least, that was what the sign on the edge of the lobby said. I extrapolated from there.

    Tiptoeing around it, I continued my journey, even as my head swam around me and my vision began to fail. I had chosen a very bad time to hit my head. Of course, there¡¯s never a good time for that to happen, but this was definitely one of the worse times.

    Maybe the dog was as telepathic as the mirrors, because only moments after that thought had occurred to me that the situation got a whole lot worse.

    There was no indication that the dog when the arrived. Just a thrill down my spine as the mirrors all around me took on that warning purple tinge they had done when I was hiding near the police officers. But I knew it was there. And it was coming for me.

    Because I was on a higher alert, and there wasn¡¯t as much noise this time, I actually managed to hear it.

    Nothing major, just the soft footsteps of paws much bigger than a dinner plate, and subtle hard clunks of something dragging behind. Glass on glass.

    It was big, ruthless, and much faster than me. No matter what I did, I wasn¡¯t going to escape this alive. The feeling of dread and fear began creeping up on me, the exact feeling I had felt emanating from my bathroom mirror during the only future vision I¡¯ve ever had.

    The thing behind me perked up, the glass clunking sounds getting more aggressive. Almost like it was wagging its tail. The footsteps were getting louder and faster. Soon, I would be recreating the vision all over again.

    I didn¡¯t even try to run. Just ducked to the side in the first reflection I felt. Didn¡¯t even look into it to see what I was getting myself into. Anything would be better than the beast.

    For the second time that day, I landed face first onto the ground. Except this time, the fall was softened by piles and piles of mud. Sheets of water slammed into my back, sent from the heavens with all their wrath.

    I dug myself out from the muddy slop and looked around, hardly daring to believe it.

    Somehow, I had stumbled into the exact muddy rain ridden landscape I had been looking for all this time.

 Rainy Cove

    I could have moved away from the place I had popped out from. Tried to put distance between myself and the mirror, so that the glass dog couldn¡¯t hunt me down.

    But the problem was, there was no mirror.

    I looked around as wildly as I could, and maybe it was the head injury messing up my vision, but I swear, there. Was. No. Mirror. Just an endless void of rain and mud. Eventually, I stumbled upon a tree, its branches drooping from excess watering and its trunk swollen. Even under the boughs, there was no respite from the continuous barrage of rain.

    Still, it was a place to sit and breathe and process what had happened. So that was what I did. Rainwater washed away scents, I thought, so surely the demon glass dog wouldn¡¯t be able to track me down, even if I hadn¡¯t moved far enough away from the place I had broken out from.

    My head was heavy. Sinuses thick. Water was clogging up my ears and everything sounded so far away, I simply couldn¡¯t jolt my body into action.

    How was this my life? I wondered to myself. Two weeks ago, it had been a repetitive, introverted lifestyle for me. And now here I was, being chased by a beast that had left behind at least twenty bodies, and only one survivor. My chances were abysmal.

    Maybe it was selfish of me, but the one detail that took over my mind, as rainwater dripped over the brim of my hat and into my eyes, was: ¡°Why me?¡±

    The mirrors had picked me out specifically to communicate with. It was unthinkable to me that after all my wanderings, I would be the one to be selected by the dog as its next victim. Was there a throughline that I was missing? Something that was making it pick out the people it went after?

    I had never attracted its attention before this, I was sure of it. Something must have changed, but try as I might, it just wasn¡¯t clicking for me.

    Riley and Fold should be told about this, I decided. Not because they were more analytical than me. That was debatable, but also probably true, but because a lot more people being able to look at this case from every possible angle would be much more helpful.

    Because you couldn¡¯t pay me to go back to the mirror, even if I could find it, I decided to walk. Trudging through the flooded scenery with my waterlogged coat. With every step I took, I could feel my boots sloshing with more and more water. There was no end in sight, but I kept walking onwards.

    And then, the water cut out. It wasn¡¯t a gradual slowing, like most rain. No, it was abrupt. Planned. As if a waterspout had been turned off. Almost too similar to that. I squinted up at the sky, but the misty vapors of the rain shower were hanging low above my head, obscuring my view of the sky. Or what I assumed was the sky. Because I had the striking suspicion that this place wasn¡¯t completely organic.

    If it was a man-made structure, then that meant there was a wall nearby. Though, since it was so dark, even without the rain I couldn¡¯t see any such wall. No wall, no escape. Desperate measures had to be taken.

    I emptied out my bag, looking for anything useful. There wasn¡¯t much. A bottle of lukewarm water, but I had already had enough of water. A makeup mirror I used for particularly daring tricks, but I wasn¡¯t going to head back into the hallways anytime soon. I had been hoping for a flashlight but wasn¡¯t surprised to see that there wasn¡¯t one.

    Finally, I picked up my work pager, which I should have handed in during my leave, and fired off an emergency signal. The device beeped, indicating that the signal had been sent, and everything was in motion. Now, I had to sit tight, and hope that a small, underfunded branch of the governmental postal service cared enough about a mailwoman who was already on her last threads and was also supposed to be on leave.

    ¡­I was screwed, wasn¡¯t I?

    Nothing could be done about it except sitting in the darkness. Sleeping was an absolute no-no, because the dog was somewhere out there, hunting me, and I couldn¡¯t sit down, because the moment I leaned my head back and rested my legs, my eyes would flutter shut and my aching head would soothe itself, and I would be lulled of to sleep, which I could not do.

    That last point comment snapped me out of the stupor I had found myself in, blinking wildly.

    I was alive. Awake. Still completely whole.

    Dave was waiting for me back at the hospital. He had made it. I had to, as well.

    Despite my best efforts, I found myself milling in and out of consciousness, delirious, almost. What I didn¡¯t miss was the faint sounds of bustling people. The flashes of helmet lamps. Strong hands travelling up my arms and hoisting me up.

    ¡°¡­Who?¡± I whispered, faintly.

    ¡°Shhh, it¡¯s going to be alright, kid.¡± This stranger murmured, ¡°I¡¯m getting you out.¡±

    This was followed by a familiar sensation of dry, malleable material slipping by me, colder than ice. Except there was a weird twisting sensation alongside it. As I was being put into a piping bag and squeezed with all the might of a giantess.

    It was with mounting horror that I realized that I was being brought back into the mirrors. I tried to protest as much as I could, wiggling about weakly, ¡°No- I- you can¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°Just stay calm, you¡¯re safe now.¡± The so-called rescuer consoled me.

    We were both going to die, I thought hysterically. This thought was so alarming to me that I passed out. It was humiliating how often that was happening today. I was supposed to be better, smarter, stronger.

    All I felt was tired.

    <hr><hr>

    There were reporters all around her. People clamoring for her attention. Celina felt almost self-conscious. She had never been in such a mainstream spotlight before, so it was an alien experience.

    Not for long, she hoped. This was her breakout stunt. The one that would shock the whole world into finally taking notice.

    Riley was skeptical, her darling little sister was just so cynical about everything that involved reflection-hopping. Celina would bring her around to it, eventually. She hadn¡¯t been hopping at Riley¡¯s age, so there was plenty of time to brew up a passion for it.

    She amused herself at the idea of Riley training for reflection-hopping, keeping a serene expression on her face as the reporters continued to press in from all directions.

    ¡°Do you really think that you can make it?¡±

    ¡°Is it possible to go through several tiny mirrors in one go?¡±

    ¡°No one¡¯s ever heard of it before!¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you scared?¡±

    ¡°Will there be any doctors on site? People with more expertise than you?¡±

    ¡°Some people consider you to be too new to the scene for this. What do you have in response?¡±

    All questions she had been asked before. But they kept asking over and over again. Hoping that she would slip up. Give them a different answer, and expose herself as a fraud of some kind.

    She didn¡¯t see why they wished to see her fall so much. Everything she put on camera was as authentic as she could get. Sure, there was a level of privacy and distance she liked to put between herself and her audience, but it was never in an attempt to deceive.

    Celina was a stunt performer. She jumped through mirrors set up in impossible places and stuck every landing. Every jump was new challenge. A new trick. An invitation to try something new. Diving through a standard mirror and then coming out through a chandelier was just another one of those tricks.

    Next time, she thinks she¡¯ll do a dance piece. Something like a waltz, where the two dancers swept through the mirrors in a mesmerizing pattern. She hadn¡¯t quite had the time to choreograph it, but it had a lot of promise. Or maybe, she could do a waterfall. A bit repetitive after this one, but the idea appealed enough for her to jot it down in her notebook.

    She walked past all the questions, willing herself to keep her spine straight and head back.

    The only thing that she could afford to worry about was getting through that chandelier.

    <hr><hr>

    I wasn¡¯t entirely sure when I woke up. All I knew was that the moment my eyes had opened, they had latched onto my tiny makeup mirror, and thrown me into a vision.

    A vision through the eyes of Celina Minto. Of all people, I had not expected to see her in these glimpses of the past. But at least the visions were back to their regular format, I supposed. The closer they stuck to the rules, the easier I felt. I liked uniform rules, even when I couldn¡¯t figure them out.

    But the vision was gone now. All that was left was the tiny mirror, with none of that mesmerizing gravity sucking me in anymore. I turned my eyes away from it, blinking harshly against the gritty dryness that had taken over my sight.

    ¡°You feeling alright?¡± A voice murmured next to me. Oh, right. Where was I, again? The bed was stiff but reasonably comfortable, and there was a clean smell in the air. The white, plain decorations of the room I was placed in all came together to point towards me being in a hospital room.

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    It took all my strength to turn my head around to look at the person who had called out to me. She was a woman, slightly older than me, and an undercut that had the left side of her scalp shaved. In the fuzz, an intricate pattern was etched, and I couldn¡¯t help but wonder how many times a month she had to redo that in the mirror by herself.

    More concerning than her shaved hair, however, was the jacket she was wearing. A brown waterproofed bomber jacket with yellow high visibility stripes going down the arms and across the back. On the lapel and the center of the back, there was stamped a silver emblem. The silhouette of a swirling mirror frame encasing the words ¡®RHR¡¯ written in a fancy script.

    I was more than familiar with that logo. In both good ways and bad.

    ¡°You¡¯re from the Reflection-Hopping Rangers.¡± I told her rather than asking. We both knew it was true.

    ¡°What makes you think that?¡± She asked, grinning at me.

    ¡°Gee, I don¡¯t know.¡± I stared her down, ¡°What¡¯re you doing here? Don¡¯t you need to be out there, playing the hero or something?¡±

    ¡°Well, I played the hero for you, didn¡¯t I?¡± She laughed, ¡°Just checking up on you before I head back out. You¡¯re an¡­ unusual kid, you know? Definitely one of the most memorable cases I¡¯ve had in years.¡±

    Glad I could provide some entertainment to someone a millimeter away from being a reflection-hopping cop. Most people said that that wasn¡¯t exactly what the RHR does, but I knew better. They couldn¡¯t be trusted, always looking over your shoulder, attempting to tame something that simply couldn¡¯t be tamed.

    You could say that I had a chip on my shoulder for the Rangers. That would be correct, but it was also an understatement.

    ¡°How did you do it?¡± I asked, deciding to put my disgruntlement aside.

    ¡°Do what?¡± The woman asked, sitting down beside me.

    ¡°Find me. Got me out. I remember paging my work but never hinted what trouble I was in.¡±

    ¡°They were given your coordinates in that message.¡± She replied, ¡°One look at the map, and they were calling our 585 hotline. And then, there I was. Found you because your face was displayed on the mirror you had nearby, even when unconscious. Very clever of you.¡±

    ¡°Hah, yep.¡± I nodded along as if that was an intentional trick of mine. My opinion of her rose, however, when I realized she had successfully jumped through a makeup mirror alongside a person with no conscious thought. She must be really good.

    ¡°Did you get a good look around the place we were in?¡± I asked, desperate for answers. Had it really been a manmade contraption after all? Or was it just a normal, very rainy cave?

    ¡°Was a bit busy trying to grab you, kid.¡± She laughed, ¡°Why¡¯re you so desperate to know?¡±

    ¡°¡­No reason.¡± I replied, looking away from her. Best to keep anyone who couldn¡¯t be trusted at arm¡¯s length from the investigation. Besides, the coordinates had been logged by the post office communications. I could track it down later and figure out what was happening there. That was enough to calm my desperation.

    ¡°Who¡¯re you, anyways?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Lian Cruz.¡± She introduced herself with a flourish of her hand, ¡°Three-Striped Ranger, at your service.¡±

    That didn¡¯t mean anything to me. I knew about the RF Rangers but not their ranks. But she sounded proud of it, so I assumed that it was a big deal. Very reminiscent of police, just like I had noticed before.

    ¡°Well, Lian, I¡¯m Madison Gardner, but I¡¯m sure you know that.¡± I shook her hand, ¡°You weren¡¯t worried about me, were you?¡± I gave her a sly look, but the woman wasn¡¯t even the slightest bit fazed.

    ¡°It¡¯s a job where I have to save people from dying constantly from stupid stunts.¡± She told me drily, ¡°I can¡¯t afford to worry about every dumbass I find.¡±

    ¡°Listen, this wasn¡¯t a stunt--¡± I bristled in my own defense, before forcefully cutting myself off. Let her think I was an inexperienced fool. What did it matter in the grand scheme of things?

    She seemed to take my outburst as an admission of my mistake and patted me on the shoulder, ¡°Well, know your limits the next time you try something like this, okay? I need to go, but the doctors still want to look you over for that concussion you got. And see if there are any other injuries I may have missed.¡±

    I didn¡¯t fully process her getting up and walking out of the room, but before she could fully leave, I managed to summon up the energy to call after her.

    ¡°I know I don¡¯t sound it, but thanks.¡±

    She nodded, looking a little confused, ¡°Err¡­ you¡¯re welcome. Usually people are a lot more petulant after I pick them up.¡±

    ¡°You put yourself in a lot of danger for me.¡± I told her, ¡°Was the walk back really okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Lian confirmed, though her eyebrows were scrunched together as if she wasn¡¯t really sure. Suspicion was quickly taking over her expression, ¡°What kind of danger are we talking about here? You involved in some gang?¡±

    Of course, that was where her mind first jumped to. The hallways were no stranger to illicit schemes of all kinds. It was actually tame of Lian to be suggesting a gang and not an international terrorist group. And yet, my true purpose was darker than any of that. It was a truly terrible type of irony.

    ¡°No.¡± I replied quickly, shaking my head as much as I could manage, ¡°Not really the type to deal with gangs. I just remember something chasing me. Something inhuman.¡±

    I meant to keep it vague, but it came off just ominous enough that Lian¡¯s eyes narrowed. Then, before I could make an excuse or masterfully change the subject, she was smiling again, ¡°How interesting. I¡¯ll direct animal control over to the place I found you.¡± And she turned around and walked away for good.

    Some part of me wanted to drag her back and spill out the whole story. Doing this when only I was the one who understood the finer details of what was going on was incredibly isolating. I wanted someone else who got it to be on my side, too. But I didn¡¯t do that. I let her walk away.

    My thoughts tormented me in the solitude, but not for long. A steady stream of doctors and nurses went in and out of my room, checking up on me and running tests. It all became background noise as I waited for someone to tell me when I would be allowed to leave.

    Finally, the monotony was broken by the arrival of someone I recognized.

    Dave, leaning against the door, bruised and nibbled on and down one arm, but grinning at me with so much life that all the weight in my heart was immediately lifted. He was staring back at me, eyes wide, as if he couldn¡¯t quite believe it himself.

    ¡°Come, sit.¡± I shifted immediately, allowing him access to the side of the bed. He came closer and sat down gratefully. Clearly, he hadn¡¯t recovered as much as I had thought. But he didn¡¯t look away from me, still staring with that continued, single-minded focus. It was enough to make me blush.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you were going to make it.¡± He whispered, his eyes shining like stars on a lake¡¯s reflection.

    ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡± I tried to reassure him, which was hard to do given that I had been fading in and out of consciousness, ¡°What about you?¡±

    He stared at me for a moment, ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to be here.¡± He finally blurted out, looking horrified by his own admission. I snorted.

    ¡°You snuck out?¡±

    ¡°Listen, I walked out. No one saw me. I was just really, really desperate, and I wanted to see you, and next thing I know¡­ I¡¯m breaking bed rest mandates.¡±

    ¡°Wow, look at you, rebel.¡± I cackled, even though my head hurt when I threw it back to laugh harder, ¡°Real bad boy vibes.¡±

    ¡°I hate you.¡± He mumbled, covering his face with his hands. Hand. He had one hand. Because he had lost the whole arm in a horrific act by the monster I had left to run wild. I fell silent after that, and he picked up on the drop in my mood quickly, ¡°I don¡¯t really.¡± He rushed to clarify, peeking out from between his fingers.

    ¡°Yeah, I know.¡± I assured him, ¡°I was just thinking about-¡±

    We were interrupted from our talk when the door was thrown open with so much force it hit the wall and bounced back. The familiarly sweet face of Riley Minto poked it, mouth widening into a smile as she took in the room, ¡°Oh, good, you¡¯re both here!¡± She leaned back out of the room to yell back at someone else, ¡°Henry, I¡¯ve found them both! Stop panicking and come here!¡±

    Of course, she had brought Fold along. I wouldn¡¯t have expected anything less. What I didn¡¯t expect, however, was the sheer amount of desperation on Fold¡¯s face when he skidded into the room. An urgency that only lifted when he caught sight of me sitting up and looking at him.

    ¡°Oh, thank goodness, Maddy.¡± He deflated, ¡°I thought¡­¡± He gave a sniffle, small enough to be disguised, but the redness in his eyes and the lines in his face told a different story.

    ¡°Let¡¯s put a pause on the waterworks.¡± I suggested to him, as gently as I could, ¡°We¡¯ve still got the case to work on.¡±

    ¡°After being MIA for nearly seventy-two hours?¡± Fold demanded. I winced; had it been that long?

    But there was nothing to be done about it. I couldn¡¯t stop and process that now, or else I would never be able to charge myself into motion. Once I told them about my evidence, they would be taken over by excitement, too, and the case could finally, finally come to a close.

    ¡°I made a breakthrough.¡± I told them, ¡°We can¡¯t stop now, or it¡¯s going to get away.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s ¡®it¡¯?¡± Dave frowned, ¡°What¡¯re you talking about?¡±

    ¡°The mirror hallways¡¯ monster.¡± Fold explained, ¡°You missed a lot in that nap.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t call it a ¡®nap¡¯-¡± Riley began to interject, but I interrupted forcefully.

    ¡°Will you please just listen to what I have to say?¡±

    Everyone¡¯s heads swiveled around to look at me. Fold made a zipping motion across his lips.

    ¡°I found it.¡± I announced, ¡°I found the monster in the hallways. I didn¡¯t wait to get a proper look at it, but it was chasing me with four legs, and definitely had a tail made of glass. So, my ¡®dog that was experimented on¡¯ theory still holds water. But it was bigger than a normal dog. Definitely twice as big as a normal person.¡±

    ¡°The Clifford breed.¡± Riley nodded sagely. Dave rolled his eyes.

    I took a deep breath, going down the bullet list of paradigm-shifting events that had happened after I had left Dave¡¯s hospital room.

    ¡°I had another vision.¡± I told them. A sharp intake of breath.

    ¡°A vision?¡± Dave frowned, ¡°What¡¯re you talking about?¡±

    ¡°¡­Oh boy, we¡¯re going to have to fill you in about this.¡± Fold sighed.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t.¡± He begged, ¡°I¡¯m not part of this.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re in the room where it¡¯s happening.¡± Riley told him, matter of factly, ¡°You may dislike it, but you are part of this.¡±

    Dave grumbled, but he had lost the argument. Everyone could see it. Fold cleared his throat, ¡°Well, what was the vision, Maddy?¡±

    ¡°A still image.¡± I explained, ¡°Not an event, or a story, or a character. Though, I had one like that just now.¡±

    ¡°These visions¡­ they¡¯ve been picking up steam.¡± Riley noted, her voice tinged with worry. She was going to be much more upset once I told her about the latest one. But this was about the hint it had left me.

    ¡°The mirrors showed me a factory.¡± I told them, ¡°Something to do with trees. It¡¯s been a lot more communicative recently, so I¡¯m not sure what that¡¯s all about, but I¡¯m sure it has something very important to do with that monster dog.¡±

    There was a lot that needed to be discussed here. Thoughts were scampering through my head in a frenzy as I tried to sort them out.

    ¡°It couldn¡¯t find me.¡± I whispered, ¡°Before, it was practically salivating to get ahold of me, but when Lian the Ranger, it couldn¡¯t give a single fuck. What changed? Something was pulling it towards me, but then it stopped. I need to figure out why.¡±

    Now that was something that made everyone sit up and pay attention.

    ¡°Was there any difference between those times?¡± Dave suggested, ¡°Do you think being awake had any effect?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± I told him, ¡°How is it supposed to know the difference?¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a police dog.¡± Riley noted, ¡°Were you carrying something the first time around that you dropped between jumps?¡±

    I scrunched my eyebrows, thinking over the events of that incident. My mind was frazzled by the hit to the head I¡¯d taken, and all the memories were a mess, but I tried to recall as hard as I could. Then it struck me.

    The bag I¡¯d emptied. Most of the stuff I had shoved back in, but a few scraps of paper had been left in the muddy ground.

    Not just any scraps of paper. Those were the ticket stubs I had picked up for Riley.

    ¡°I lost some shredded tickets Riley had dropped.¡± I confessed, ¡°That¡¯s all I can think of.¡±

    Riley blinked, taken by surprise, ¡°Tickets?¡± She parroted, ¡°I don¡¯t have any reason to buy¡­¡± Her hands flew over her skirt, patting down her pockets, ¡°Oh God, the tickets for Celina¡¯s last show, they¡¯re- they¡¯re gone.¡± Her voice was strangled, almost near tears, ¡°She liked to carry tickets to hand out to fans who couldn¡¯t afford it. You don¡¯t suppose¡­¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s something in the tickets?¡± Fold mused, ¡°The ink or the paper?¡±

    Factory. Dealing with trees.

    ¡°The paper, obviously.¡± I answered reflexively, ¡°The dog¡¯s being led around by something in the paper. We need to find out which factory that vision was referring to, see if there¡¯s any connection.¡±

    ¡°And then?¡± Dave frowned.

    I turned to look at him, and my heart leapt with delight at seeing him awake and moving around.

    ¡°Then, we¡¯re going to go straight to its home and hit it straight on.¡± I announced.

 Loose Threads

    The results from the lab came back. One of my coworkers delivered it to Fold¡¯s apartment. I mean, of course it was a coworker. I was a mailwoman, even if on medical leave. It¡¯s just that he certainly wasn¡¯t expecting me to open the door and receive the package.

    ¡°Madison?¡± Colin blinked, ¡°You live here?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± I replied, as if that wasn¡¯t a logical conclusion to seeing me open the door dressed in pajamas, ¡°Friend¡¯s house.¡±

    A beat passed as he leaned out of the door to check the apartment number, just to make sure this was the right place. It was.

    ¡°Well then, tell your friend that he¡¯s gotten his results back from Rabri Laboratories.¡± Colin told me, handing over a large white envelope.

    ¡°Thanks!¡± I grinned, taking it from him, ¡°Been waiting for this.¡±

    It had been so long since the discovery of the clear gel substance that I had almost completely forgotten about it. In all honesty, it hadn¡¯t even been a business week, but it was a very anxiety inducing three days. Now, though, I was excited for the discovery all over again.

    Colin, however, didn¡¯t leave. He stood there, adam¡¯s apple bobbing up and down.

    ¡°How have you been?¡± He asked finally, ¡°After they called up the RHR to save you, I thought you were a goner. Everyone¡¯s really worried.¡±

    I definitely remembered checking in with work after the hospital had let me go. They had given me an extension on my leave, given the circumstances, though I may have played up my injuries a bit much to secure that. Still, whatever it took to get that dog under control.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± I assured him, wincing a little as his eyes wandered down to the bruises all over my arms, ¡°A little banged up, and its going to take some time to recover, but I¡¯m going to be fine.¡±

    That seemed to be ample consolation to Colin, whose shoulders loosened.

    ¡°Good.¡± He smiled at me, ¡°Come back soon, okay? Even the managers miss you. We need our long-distance delivery girl back on staff.¡±

    ¡°A trick like that isn¡¯t going to pass anytime soon, pal.¡± I sighed, ¡°Like, I¡¯ll come back, for sure, but I¡¯m not going to be able to do all the faraway trips through the mirrors.¡±

    His eyes widened and he took a reflexive step forward, ¡°Are you really that hurt?¡± He asked, looking me over even more intensely than before, ¡°Did that monster fuck you up as badly as that? Is it a psychological trauma response, or-¡± A pause, as realization hit him and he took a step back, ¡°This is about Action 210, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡± I agreed, popping the end of the word as if I didn¡¯t have a care in the world. As if I didn¡¯t stay up at night thinking about it, running my head through possibilities and hypotheticals that all came out to the exact same conclusion: I could not afford to lose my reflection-hopping abilities. I simply didn¡¯t have any other skills that could keep me employed, as a mailwoman or otherwise.

    He had the audacity to laugh in the face of my anxieties, ¡°You don¡¯t think it¡¯s actually going to pass, do you?¡± He asked, ¡°Have you seen that freaking document? It¡¯s nonsense! Wouldn¡¯t pass in a million years, I guarantee. You just can¡¯t police something like that.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not about how viable it is.¡± I told him shortly, ¡°Whether or not they can police it, they won¡¯t care. The Senate just wants people to think they¡¯re being proactive. Staying on top of things. And this is there way of showing that yes, they do care about the problems stemming from reflection-hopping and now that a celebrity is dying, of course they¡¯re going to take charge and stop all this madness.¡±

    Every word was spat out with hate and vitriol that had been building up inside me ever since those cream-colored signs had first been hung over the mirrors, besmirching the perfect hallways. And Colin didn¡¯t ask to be put in the line of fire of every hurled statement, but he was the closest one there as I started ranting and ranting and-

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I whispered, clenching my fists as my tirade ground to a halt, ¡°You don¡¯t- you don¡¯t deserve this.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll say.¡± He nodded shakily, already several feet away from me than before, ¡°I¡¯ll just¡­ leave. Hope those test results are good!¡±

    ¡°Have a good round!¡± I called after his hastily retreating back. No response.

    I sighed and shut the door behind me. Fold was in the kitchen, watching the toaster attentively as he fried some eggs. I¡¯d taken to sleeping over on his couch since I had no patience for the early morning bus commute to get to his office.

    Mirrors were still a sticking point for me. Even though we were working off the theory that the dog was after the tickets when it had attacked me, I still wasn¡¯t going to take any chances. Every time I reached for a mirror after that, I could hear the sound of its quietly pattering paws and clunking tail, and the fear would freeze me in place. The trauma of the incident was debilitating, but I couldn¡¯t let that stop me. I was the only experienced reflection-hopper we had. When the confrontation happened, and I was adamant that it happened, I would have to play an integral part in the plan. There just wasn¡¯t anyone else to do it.

    ¡°Are those the test results?¡± Fold asked, looking over to me, his eyes locking onto the folder under my arm.

    ¡°Yeah, colleague named Colin just delivered it.¡± I told him, gingerly placing it on a part of the counter that was the least likely to get splashed with grease or milk or breadcrumbs, ¡°You wanna open it now, or wait till the others get here?¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t a college acceptance letter, of course we want to open it now.¡± He rolled his eyes, then clicked his tongue as he reached to turn off the toaster, ¡°Actually, how about until after breakfast?¡±

    ¡°Brilliant idea, Einstein.¡± I snidely remarked as I poured myself a glass of orange juice, ¡°Truly, you¡¯re a detective with no match.¡±

    ¡°Shut up.¡± He waved me off with a laugh, ¡°You know what I meant, so don¡¯t misconstrue things.¡±

    We had breakfast in relative silence, working through the food quickly and efficiently. Once that was done and cleaned up, Fold reached for the folder, opening it with more ceremony than was required.

    He peeled out the papers, one by one, reading them with an unreadable expression on his face.

    ¡°Well, get a move on.¡± I pressed, feeling anticipation grow.

    He cast the papers aside, ¡°It¡¯s been identified to be shepherd dog saliva.¡± He confirmed, ¡°But with also some crystalline formations in the mix. That bit confused them, actually, because the crystals hadn¡¯t been dissolved into the saliva. It had formed from it, almost organically. Which, according to them, is impossible. I¡¯m not the crystal expert here.¡±

    Despite the gravity of the situation, I couldn¡¯t help the pride that swirled through my chest.

    ¡°Glass crystals in dog saliva? I knew I was right about that.¡± I crowed, ¡°You believe me yet?¡±

    ¡°Believed you from the start.¡± Fold told me, ¡°Exactly why I brought you into this case. This is simply more evidence to back up your hypothesis. Also gives us more information about what that dog is now. It isn¡¯t just a dog anymore. The creature¡¯s been changed to its very genetic code.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I could tell when I saw the size of those teeth. Nothing but intense gene mods could cause that.¡±

    ¡°Shush, appreciate the proof you have.¡±

    A knock sounded on the front door.

    ¡°Open up!¡± Riley called, continuing to bang insistently on the door, ¡°I¡¯ve got Dave with me, too!¡±

    I rushed over to open the latch of the door and wrench the door open. Riley was standing there, her hands folded demurely and hair tucked perfectly under the straw hat. Beside her, Dave stood, looking immensely tired.

    ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be doing physical therapy.¡± I told him, ¡°Not walking around like this.¡±

    He laughed, just a hint sheepish, but not enough for me to excuse him, ¡°She¡¯s very convincing. And it¡¯s like I told you, the firefighters know a lot more restricted info than you¡¯d think.¡±

    ¡°What about your recovery?¡± I protested, letting them come inside anyway, ¡°You¡¯ve been unconscious for a while, your body is weak, and your arm is still a wreck. You can¡¯t do this.¡±

    ¡°We need to play all the cards we can get.¡± Riley told me seriously, ¡°And after our last debriefing, the nurses nearly called for the police about ¡®suspicious activities¡¯.¡± She seemed almost affronted at the idea. This girl kept on a sweet fa?ade, but her mind was shrewd and calculating. If she hadn¡¯t been on our side, I would¡¯ve been scared of her.

    ¡°Where are we, as of now?¡± Riley continued, sweeping into the kitchen to look over Fold¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°The dog is confirmed to be genetically spliced with glass.¡± Fold explained, ¡°Totally possible to be twice as big as a person.¡±

    ¡°You think its using itself to reflection-hop?¡± Dave asked, helping himself to Fold¡¯s scraps of toast.

    ¡°No conspiracy theories, man.¡± Fold laughed, ¡°How would that even work?¡±

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°That¡¯s rich coming from Mr. ¡®The Mirrors Are Eating People¡¯.¡± I rolled my eyes, ¡°But, yeah, I don¡¯t see how it could physically do that. Like a cat chasing its own tail.¡±

    ¡°Anyways, I¡¯ve been looking into the bit about the paper factory hint you gave me.¡± Riley barreled forward, ¡°Tracked down the source of the paper used in tickets by the Medley National Theater to three specific factories in the country.¡±

    ¡°None imported?¡± Fold joked.

    ¡°Patriots.¡± Everyone else offered as an answer.

    Riley reached into her bag and spread out three photographs onto the table. They were pictures of paper factories, with tall chimneys and a constant array of trucks piled high with logs coming in and out.

    ¡°These are images I found in the library of each of those factories.¡± She explained, ¡°Any of these look like the ones in your vision?¡±

    I frowned, looking at each one of them. They all looked pretty similar. Different colors, branding, and some changes in layout, but that was only minutiae. It was after much careful comparison and deliberation that I pointed at the photo in the middle.

    ¡°That¡¯s the one.¡± I announced, ¡°It¡¯s exactly like the one I saw. Angle of the picture and everything.¡±

    ¡°Perfect!¡± Riley smiled, pulling out a bright blue binder from her bag. She riffled through the papers and finally opened it to the section she wanted and shoved it at my face, ¡°I didn¡¯t have much to do in that time, so I researched all three. This one is what I found on Wellerby Paper Factories, the place you identified. That way we can figure out what¡¯s different about their paper production process.¡±

    I nodded, my eyes drifting down. Instead of looking at the details of the process, they latched onto the list of places the factory was publicly affiliated with.

    ¡°The Police Department¡¯s Experimental Branch? What¡¯s up with that?¡±

    Riley shrugged, ¡°I don¡¯t know. They put it on their brochures, though, so it can¡¯t just be for their fax machine. Think it¡¯s for something special?¡±

    Fold frowned, shooting up to his feet, ¡°Riley, did you bring a sample of the paper with you? Maybe a¡­ ticket or something?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I did.¡± The girl brandished another ticket stub out, ¡°What did you want with- Hey!¡±

    He snatched it out of her hand, barely even paying attention as he skittered over to the chest of drawers in the living room, muttering to himself. We followed suit, watching him as he pulled out boxes and shuffled through them impatiently until finally pulling out a scroll of rough, thick paper with intricate designs all over. Reflection-hopping charms.

    No, not just any reflection-hopping charms. These were more¡­ distinctive that that.

    ¡°Are those the charms used by the police when entering the Gateway?¡± I asked, the second the dots connected in my mind, ¡°Did you steal that?!¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t steal it, per se.¡± Fold hummed innocently, ¡°I just¡­ put it in my pocket when they weren¡¯t looking.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re all going to get arrested.¡± I bemoaned.

    ¡°I mean, I took the ones they gave me, too, and they never called me out on it, so maybe it¡¯s fine?¡± Dave shrugged.

    ¡°You did what?¡± I asked, turning my worry on Dave, ¡°Have you lost it?!¡±

    ¡°Reflection-hopping charms are expensive! I didn¡¯t want to pay for fresh ones and decided to workshop those ones.¡±

    ¡°Well, you paid for it! You paid an arm for it!¡± My voice had hit a new pitch. Dave flinched, curling in on himself. I cursed myself out internally as I tried to soften my voice, ¡°¡­Too soon?¡±

    ¡°No, no, I needed to hear it.¡± He replied, even though he still looked torn up about it.

    ¡°Good. Because Maddy was right.¡± Fold told him, still poring over the paper samples, ¡°This is the same type of paper. Same thickness, flexibility, and durability. Even the edges are equally sharp.¡±

    ¡°Explains why they went after the police you saw.¡± Riley noted, clearly running through the list of victims, ¡°The Haber couple from case number 12? They were dressed to go to the theater. Must have had tickets in their bags when they walked through the mirrors. And Celina did, too. And Dave, judging by his testimony.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a strange type of paper.¡± I agreed. I had thought that before. When I first saw the charms. They were bulky and different from any other charm I had seen.

    ¡°Now, the question stands, is there something strange in the paper that¡¯s attracting the dog towards it?¡± Fold asked, ¡°Or is it because the dog remembers the paper from its time in the science experiment?¡±

    ¡°Only one way to find out.¡± Riley pointed out, ¡°We break into the place and figure out what happened.¡±

    Incredible. More crimes. I hadn¡¯t thought there would be so much lawbreaking when trying to solve the serial killings. I think these people were almost eager to have the excuse to break a law or ten.

    As if to prove my point, Fold nodded along gleefully, ¡°The place shut down ages ago, so it¡¯ll be easy!¡±

    ¡°And there¡¯s also that rainy place that shows up whenever the dog strikes.¡± Dave pointed out, ¡°We have the coordinates of it, so we should check that out eventually.¡±

    ¡°Show me the coordinates?¡± Dave asked, kneeling down to pull out a massive rolled up map from the bottom of the chest of drawers, ¡°Then we can plan out the teams and trips between us.¡±

    I dutifully nodded and looked over the unrolled map, looking through the lines of longitude and latitude until finally a circled a blurry corner of a faraway town with my finger.

    ¡°It¡¯s somewhere here.¡± I announced.

    Fold hummed again, this time more amused.

    ¡°Would you look at that?¡± He grinned, ¡°They¡¯re in the same place. How convenient.¡±

    I blinked, taken by surprise.

    ¡°Wait, this is your hometown?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s what I said.¡±

    Maybe he should¡¯ve been the main character if all of this was so intrinsically linked to his past.

    ¡°So, we¡¯re going to head back to where you live?¡± Dave asked eagerly, ¡°I¡¯ll be so down for that!¡±

    ¡°No, you¡¯re not.¡± Riley told him, crossing her arms, ¡°You¡¯re staying here. Keep going to the hospital and working on recovering. Nothing¡¯s going to get you there.¡±

    ¡°I want to help, though! You were the one to drag me here, and now I¡¯m going to get there.¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re very noticeable.¡± Riley explained, not even bothering to soften her blunt tone, ¡°Everyone who reads the newspapers knows who you are, and we can¡¯t afford that attention. It¡¯ll be more useful if you stay here and work the media game. Get some eyes on the story until we come back with all the evidence and hopefully a dead or captured monster mirror dog.¡±

    This assignment did nothing to endear the idea to Dave, who simply looked more skeptical, ¡°You¡¯re more famous than me. More recognizable, too. If I can¡¯t come, then you should be stuck here, too.¡±

    For the first time ever, Riley gave a laugh, sharp and cruel and thorny, ¡°You think these two could stop that freaking dog? Bet they can¡¯t even lift one of these!¡± She reached into her bag of miracles to pull out an axe. An undulating blade with a wicked gleam and a mahogany handle polished to a bright finish.

    Everyone immediately reared back, the tension in the room ratcheting up several notches.

    ¡°Have you just been carrying that along with you the entire time?¡± I asked, trying not to sound too freaked out.

    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ve been an axe thrower for the last few years.¡± She explained, ¡°You guys don¡¯t seem much like fighters, so I thought it would be prudent.¡±

    Fold nodded approvingly, much more relaxed now that he had realized she wasn¡¯t going to turn the axe against us. I elbowed him in the gut for being so calm about the whole situation.

    ¡°We can¡¯t just let the kid carry around an axe.¡± I snapped, ¡°It¡¯s irresponsible.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not that young.¡± Riley pouted, crossing her arms over the heavy blade of the axe in a charmingly immature display. It was all very off-putting, ¡°So, we¡¯re going to go check up on those leads?¡± She prompted, more than a little forcefully.

    The fight quickly faded out of us. Fold and I exchanged glances of weary defeat.

    ¡°¡­Fine.¡±

    <hr>

    We ended up walking through a surprisingly charming town, all picturesque cobblestone pathways and thatched roofs and young newspaper boys doing their rounds and being exploited for cash.

    ¡°It¡¯s always the nicest places.¡± Riley muttered darkly, ¡°Why do we keep falling for this? Should¡¯ve sent the hounds here the second shit went south.¡±

    ¡°Because there¡¯s a lot of towns like this.¡± Fold explained, ¡°More than a hundred, at least. We can¡¯t just go marching through each of them. It¡¯s completely impractical.¡±

    I looked around myself, trying to pick out the gentile thatched roofs of the houses and the silhouettes of warehouses in the distance.

    ¡°Can you see any place where that rainy place could happen?¡± I asked, ¡°The large storage areas have a lot of potential. We¡¯re looking for a place where a lot of water can be stored. And hopefully where no one nearby can hear the dog tearing apart its enemies.¡±

    ¡°The last part is optional.¡± Riley pointed out, ¡°All the people living here could just be ignoring the sounds, making them all accomplices.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯d never.¡± Fold gasped, ¡°I¡¯ve known these people all my life, and they aren¡¯t the type to just overlook something like this.¡±

    ¡°How long has it been since you¡¯ve met them?¡± She asked innocently.

    ¡°Please, stop.¡± Fold shook his head tiredly, ¡°Let¡¯s head over to the testing building.¡±

    ¡°And then we stalk every suspicious person?¡± Riley repeated, her eyes opened wide.

    ¡°Knock yourself out.¡± I laughed.

    ¡°I have to come back here for the holiday season.¡± Fold stared at her, ¡°You better not fuck this up for me.¡±

    ¡°I can be stealthy!¡± She insisted, ¡°Never been part of a full investigation before, but I¡¯ll try my best. Keep my ears close to the ground and get a sense of all the possible suspects we¡¯re dealing with.¡±

    She shouldn¡¯t have said that so openly, because a passing old woman wrinkled her nose and crossed the road to pointedly get away from them. Fold cringed and closed his eyes.

    ¡°Maybe they just think we¡¯re part of the police?¡± I suggested.

    He let out a sigh, ¡°Sure, yeah, let¡¯s go with that.¡±

    We made our way to the outskirts of the town, where a lot of tall, bulky buildings were set up, towering over the quaint town. I didn¡¯t remember a lot of them from the vision I had about Fold. There was a lot more greenery back then, for the dogs to wander around to their hearts¡¯ content.

    ¡°The export and transportation sector has really grown here since then.¡± Fold explained, shoving his hands into his pockets, ¡°So the warehouses have been built up real quick. Took over the entire landscape.¡±

    ¡°If space is such a problem, wouldn¡¯t they tear up the building?¡± I asked, ¡°Or reuse it, whatever¡¯s more financially viable, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°No, I called ahead.¡± Fold replied, taking another turn between the well-worn dirt roads, ¡°It¡¯s still standing, but no one¡¯s been inside for ages, so even if we get spotted, chances are no one¡¯s going to call the cops.¡±

    When we reached the test building in question, everything was exactly as Fold had described it. Incredibly dirty, with a layer of dust obscuring the nameplate on the front so much that I couldn¡¯t make out what it said. But I knew what the faded, sun-bleached words were meant to say, because I had seen the exact sign before, in the mirror vision. Except not from this angle. It was a couple degrees to the left.

    I began to step around it in a slow circle, trying to remember the exact image of the sign the mirrors had given me, until it finally clicked into place. The mirrors had been showing the sign to me from exactly this spot, every time during that vision.

    Something solid and cool was directly behind me when I leaned my head back. There was a mirror. A grimy, broken mirror, but one, nonetheless. I turned around to stare at it in shock. So the mirrors really were showing me things that had been reflected directly into it. I had been expecting it, somewhat, but it was a shock to see it be supported.

    ¡°Come on, Maddy, I¡¯ve gotten the window open.¡± Riley called over to me, trying to keep her voice down.

    The inside was made of entirely musty, tight hallways, all covered in mirrors on the floors, walls, and ceiling. Each one was cracked, but that wasn¡¯t surprising. What was interesting were the cracks on the ceiling mirrors. They looked like a series of feet had run over them with enough force to break them.

    We all stared at it for a second, and then cleared our throats and looked away.

    ¡°Let¡¯s split up and explore.¡± I suggested, which was followed by quick agreement.

    I went through the hallways, checking every door and bend, which only led to more dull hallways. When I finally found a room that was wide and not a hallway, I stepped inside immediately.

    The door began to screech shut, but I managed to brace it open at the last second. Voices bounced off the walls from some distance away. Riley. Followed quickly by a twisting, metallic sign.

    That was my only warning when water suddenly slammed on top of me. It wasn¡¯t the rainy place. I knew that. But it was painfully similar.

    I tensed immediately, my heart pounding. Something was breathing behind me, in sync with my heartbeat. It took all the resolve I had to turn around. The creature hadn¡¯t bitten my head off yet, so it was a good sign.

    The dog¡¯s head was the size of half my body, and its fur was a greenish blue made of a million shards of fibrous glass. Its eyes were as big as dinner plates and reflected my shaken face right back at me.

    For all the running I had done, and how far we had come, I was going to die. Looking into a face that looked absolutely terrified.

 Showdown

    This time, I was given no time to react. The dog came at me in a flurry of gnashing teeth, intent on ripping me to shreds.

    The only thing that kept me alive was the fact that it wasn¡¯t aiming for any vital organs. Instead, teeth that were more like glass shards than actual teeth dug into my arm, sending white hot pain searing up my arm. Not that I would have it for much longer, as it clenched its jaws tighter and whipped its head around insistently. Digging deeper and further and severing nerves and muscles and bones.

    I couldn¡¯t help it. I screamed, the agony overriding every thought I was capable of having. I backpedaled, stepping out of the wide room, and by some miracle, the dog followed my lead, bowling me over into the mirror-filled corridors as it finally released the death grip it had on my left arm.

    It hurt. Worse even than the biting itself, the retraction of those teeth hurt. Blood was pouring out of the gashes on my arm, and I swear I could see some of the wounds glittering from leftover pieces of glass. It felt like it, too.

    The dog circled around me, a strangely translucent pink tongue poking out to lick at its lips. I was prey, and not even particularly important prey, either.

    ¡°Hey, doggy.¡± I whispered, crouching low, ¡°I don¡¯t have your uber-special paper. Don¡¯t attack me, okay?¡±

    It sniffed the air, and I wanted to believe that it was checking to see if I was telling the truth, but more likely, it was just following its own instincts. And whatever it smelt in the air, it must not have liked it, as it bounded forward, growling all the way.

    This time, I was able to brace for it, and when it knocked me into the wall, I didn¡¯t collide with it. Instead, I melted straight through.

    I landed in a heap in the mirror hallways, my left arm hanging useless from my shoulder. For a second, there was only heavy breathing, and I had the hubris to think I was safe.

    Then the mirror in front of me rippled, and the hound broke through. Not good.

    What had been a bad situation got steadily worse as the dog backed fully into the mirror. The hallways actually shifting and expanding around it to accommodate its size. And then it moved.

    Silent as a ghost, faster than light, it warped and twisted around me in a manner that should have been impossible for a creature its size. Indeed, our altercation in the real world had suggested that it wasn¡¯t nearly as strong or fast to pull off such a feat.

    No doubt about it, the creature was stronger in the hallways than it was in real life. And it was only when I had dared to blink, and suddenly the dog was behind me, reaching for a strike on my neck, did I realize how majorly I had messed up by leading it here.

    Still, it wasn¡¯t as if I was useless here, myself. Fourteen plus years of reflection-hopping and you learn a trick or twenty. Before its teeth could clamp down on my neck, I reached out with my only functional hand, dipping my fingers into the liquidized reflection walls. A flick of the wrist, a clench of the fingers, followed by a sharp yank, and an array of needle-sharp spires erupted out of the wall, colliding with the dog in a sharp clunk.

    Glass clashed against glass, creating a screech that almost made me yank up my other hand to cover the sound, but the harsh protests of shattered bone and torn muscles made me freeze in place. But it seemed to be doing the trick against the dog, as it snarled and bit out at the needles.

    I watched, mesmerized, as the needles pressed deeper and deeper into its fiberglass fur, praying for a hint of blood, or mercury, or whatever it is this creature would have running through its veins. For my spires to win.

    They shattered. As if they never even were a threat.

    I cursed and willed the floor to shift around me, transferring me to the ceiling, several feet above the height it could reasonably jump to. It lunged up, and I pressed myself against the chilly surface, glee arcing through me when it fell short.

    Not wanting to see whether it could manipulate the hallways like I could, I turned tail and ran. Best not to get too cocky, because this thing was stronger than anything I had ever went up against.

    Current threat diverted, I had to draw up a new plan of attack. Take advantage of my surroundings and turn it against the beast.

    A mirror caught my eye. Cracked and covered with a veil of grime, but just enough was visible to show a figure in a hat walking through near-complete darkness, torch carving a beam into the emptiness around it. I needed to use my surroundings, and my allies.

    I tucked and rolled, making a wild dive into the mirror and through to the other side, coming out of the roll directly at Riley¡¯s feet, who squeaked and lifted her axe almost on instinct.

    ¡°Woah, woah, friendly fire!¡± I told her, waving my functional hand frantically in the hopes of not getting decapitated by my friend of all people.

    Riley relaxed immediately, ¡°Oh, Maddy, it¡¯s just you.¡± Her eyes caught onto my messed up arm, and all the tension returned, ¡°What happened to your arm?!¡±

    ¡°Unimportant.¡± I told her, as briskly as I dared. Moving my head too much made my brain spin. Wow, the blood loss was really hitting me hard now. Gotta deal with this before the shock and hormones wore off or I was going to crash like a four-car pileup, ¡°Can I have your axe?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ sure?¡± Riley blinked, holding it out to me without even asking questions. I would have commended her for her focus and prioritization, but my one hand buckled under the weight of the axe, nearly dragging me to the floor alongside it. The pain was so intense, I nearly blacked out. She had to take it from me as I wheezed for breath.

    ¡°Okay, new plan.¡± I announced, ¡°I¡¯m going to lure it out using the reflection in your axe, and then you kill it for me.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think an axe is going to do the trick.¡± She muttered, weighing out doubtfully.

    ¡°Well, do you have any other ideas?¡± I snapped, ¡°That thing is tougher than insides of mirrors. We¡¯re going to need something incredible to kill it and right now, that¡¯s you.¡±

    Riley shifted her neck so that it cracked obnoxiously, ¡°Okay, then.¡± She decided, face set ¡°Let¡¯s do this.¡±

    We hashed out a clearer plan quickly, and then I turned towards her, concentrating intently, and then leaned in, my body folding itself up and slipping through the small reflection in the axe¡¯s shiny blade and back into the corridor.

    I didn¡¯t announce my presence recklessly, instead I secured myself in a tiny alcove high up in the ceiling. There was no sign of the dog, but that wasn¡¯t any reason to assume it wouldn¡¯t sneak up on me easily. With that speed, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if it killed me the moment I landed on the ground.

    So, why hadn¡¯t it?

    The question bore down on me as I cowered, waiting for any signs of movement. Any dull whimpers or brushes of glass against glass.

    It obviously wanted to kill me. But it was holding back. Why?

    Was it being more cautious because it perceived me as dangerous? I mean, I wouldn¡¯t say that I wasn¡¯t dangerous, I could totally hold my own in a bar fight, even though I haven¡¯t ever. But it¡¯s just that¡­ this dog is twice as big as a human. An average sized human. So, for mousy, spindly me, it¡¯s more like thrice as big, with even more muscle. Not exactly a fair matchup, was it?

    Self-pity wasn¡¯t a good look in the middle of a confrontation, I decided. It was sooner than I would have liked, but now that I had the dog cornered and ready to fight, I had to finish it here. Destroy it, preferably, but if I could capture it then that wasn¡¯t too bad either. That way we had evidence.

    Decision made, I pulled out a scarf from the inside of my jacket and used my one good arm to tie the decommissioned one into a sling. It was tight, and clumsy, and made the broken bones grind together in an agonizing fashion, but it was the best I could do right now. Maybe Riley could have helped me, but she had to go now and work on the ambush we had cooked up. There wasn¡¯t any time for her nimble fingers to tie knots around my quickly swelling arm, geez, why was it hurting so bad?!

    To distract myself from the pain, I got up, and began walking. I had stabilized myself as much as I could, and now the dog noticing me wasn¡¯t just the worst-case scenario, but the expected result. As I did, though, I found the reflections morphing around me. The mirrors, here to show me a vision out of time.

    Or maybe just the present, I considered, as the image of Fold appeared through the musty screen, looking around himself suspiciously. He was clearly in the corridors of the experimental project, I could tell, so this must be happening in real time. Except maybe not, as he seemed to be still in the entry corridor rather than one of the deeper passageways.

    I waited for him to head in deeper. Except then, a sense of certainty fell over him. The thought bleeding through the glass, he knew what to do. And he turned tail and ran out the door.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    Before I could freak out anymore, the mirror hastily added more thought projection, and Dave¡¯s voice began echoing in my head.

    ¡°Oh, you lived in Francisston?¡± He laughed, and woah, was this a flashback within a flashback? Trippy.

    Nevertheless, the Dave of Fold¡¯s memory continued, ¡°Man, I could tell you stories of that place. I spent early training there, so I saw all kinds of wild stuff there. Not a lot I can talk about, but this one time, we had to do emergency evac at a metalworking factory when the sprinkler system went on the fritz and flooded the entire place. It was so scary! Turns out they were cutting all kinds of corners, anyways, so the factory shut down after we suggested a safety inspector to take a look.¡±

    Thrilling story, but why was Fold thinking about this now?

    Metal working. Falling water. All available nearby. The puzzle pieces clicked in my head. He planned on using the water as a way for the dog to jump into the factory. And then he would pour molten metal onto it, killing it instantly.

    This detective shit was easy.

    Fold hadn¡¯t been gone long enough to have heated up the metal to any degree. Normally, I would have hopped over to check how much time he needed, but then, a cautious step sounded on the edge of my periphery. I tensed, already anticipating the savage blur that threw itself at me.

    Nothing to be done about it. Me and Riley would have to buy time for as long as needed.

    ¡°Hey, come on, dog!¡± I cried, barely managing to pull myself out of the way of its claws and teeth before they went in for the kill. Needed to get out of here. Back to the axe¡¯s reflection. Hopefully, Riley had gotten into position by now.

    Time, time, time, we needed so much more of it, and yet there barely was any left.

    I tried to lead it around in a circle, but it cut me off before I could even try. This thing knew its way around, even with something as amorphous as the mirrored hallways. I had to commend that, even if right now, it seriously pissed me off.

    Riley had been given as much reprieve as I could manage, I decided, as I threw myself at the shifting, silvery reflection that was no doubt her axe. It was in an accessible location for the dog, and I had given it a good long look on how to do it. When I landed on the other side, there was nothing to do but breathe heavily and wait for it to take the hint.

    Was it wise to not only risk a beast as strong as this to learn another trick, but also count on it doing that? Probably not. But, it was our only shot right now. And if it didn¡¯t work, then at least we had an idea on how adaptable it was. And it wouldn¡¯t be able to kill us either way.

    Once I landed in the real world, I backed several paces away from Riley, patting myself down hurriedly to check if all my bits were still in place. She stared at me, and for the first time, I thought that I could see a bone-deep fear echoing out of her face. This wasn¡¯t an act or an exaggeration. She was well and truly scared. Seeing it scared me, too.

    Riley was younger, quieter, less confrontational. For all that she put on an act of airs and graces, she kept it up because it was comfortable. Familiar. In her element. And this? This was as far out of everyone¡¯s element as you could get. She wouldn¡¯t be able to hold her own against the dog. Not for a second.

    I only got to feel that mixture of guilt and terror all compounded at the same time for a brief second. And then the dog came bursting out of the blade after me, and the world sped up all over again.

    Its target was me, that much was obvious by the way it wheeled around for a second, and then honed onto me. I still didn¡¯t know why it was so obsessed, but it all worked out, as that fixation left it completely unaware of the spirit of vengeance bringing down her axe from behind it.

    The sound of a hundred breaking plates rang out as heavy steel made full contact with glass, sending glass shards splintering across its body. Fiberglass fur broke and shattered with that single swipe, dealing an incredible amount of damage.

    The hound whined and turned around to look at this new, unexpected foe, but Riley didn¡¯t hesitate for even a second, her axe in the air again as she swung and swung and swung. Each blow caused more glass to be knocked loose, more fur sent flying.

    Any fear in Riley¡¯s eyes was gone. Replaced with raw, bitter grief. She wasn¡¯t backing down, not until she got revenge for the loss of her sister.

    Something cold and glistening and wet oozed out of the spot on the back of the dog¡¯s neck and dropped onto the floor, metallic and reflective. Against all odds, Riley had managed to draw blood. She might even manage to finish it off!

    Once the shock of the initial attack wore off, the dog immediately tried to retreat, looking around for an escape. There was none. This room had no mirrors in it, and was a tight, enclosed space. No room to put distance between them, and the only escape was the weapon which had wrought all this pain unto it. It was cornered like a rat.

    And we might have finished him off, too, if it weren¡¯t for yet another paradigm shifting development.

    Riley had her hands extended for yet another strike, but once the axe was its peak, it shook erratically in her grip. Once, twice, and then the full weight of yet another glass-carved dog burst out from the axe.

    It was smaller than the other, by a huge margin, but it had the same glossy bluish green fur, and reflective eyes and teeth. The markings were the same, too. Shepherd like, in appearance. There was a collar around its neck. Raggedy, but new. As if it had gone through a lot of strain in the past few days only.

    The police dog from a few days ago rang clear in my mind. Was it the same one?

    I found that I didn¡¯t care, as both dogs turned on Riley, who had frozen from the shock. This wasn¡¯t good. They were going to rip her apart.

    It was like the world had slowed down around me as I swam through the air. Maybe my bloodied arm protested from being used as a battering ram against the dogs, but I found that I could feel none of it. All that mattered was getting to Riley and reaching into my pockets to grab a practice charm.

    I slapped the charm onto her arm, right before diving into the axe¡¯s reflection. It¡¯s hard to do this, even when the body is already used to reflection-hopping. With a complete newbie? I wouldn¡¯t have done it except in the most drastic circumstances. And this was a drastic circumstance if there ever was one.

    Dragging someone through the mirrored hallways is much like swimming with a dead weight attached to you. Both of you are likely to drown if you don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing. And I didn¡¯t particularly know, but after Lian the Ranger had done it for me, I had looked into it.

    Thank God for that, too, otherwise I would be completely lost instead of only slightly lost.

    We landed safely, but highly winded and short of the only weapon we had. Not very good, but it could have been so much worse.

    I had barely but shellshocked Riley down when it proceeded to get so much worse.

    A full squadron of police came marching down the hallways. Armed with police dogs with those cursed tags around their collars. We were all going to die here.

    ¡°You!¡± Officer Sam called, heading the group as the one most experienced in the mirror world. They took in the scene, me and the horrible state Riley was in, and made all the assumptions they needed, ¡°How dare you! Get your hands off her.¡±

    ¡°Sam, not now.¡± Riley whispered, weaving on the spot, ¡°I¡­ this is serious. You need to get those dogs out of here. They¡¯re a danger.¡±

    ¡°This- this woman is a danger!¡± They replied, waving at me incredulously, ¡°She¡¯s been meddling with police affairs this whole time and I haven¡¯t been able to prove it yet, but this makes it so obvious!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well, maybe we have to, because you guys weren¡¯t doing your damn jobs!¡± I shot back. My arm was licking fire up my nerves. It wouldn¡¯t have happened if they¡¯d just done their jobs. None of this would have happened.

    The rest of the police squad all took a step back, looking vaguely uncomfortable with the whole situation. The argument didn¡¯t escalate, however, as the dogs leapt back into the mirror world. The second they stepped inside, the police dogs all kicked up a huge ruckus, barking and howling.

    The glass-frosted ones froze, looking over the normal beasts. No sooner had they made eye contact that the police hounds collapsed, bluish green covering their bodies like fungus. Even Officer Sam had the good sense to take a step back, shocked into silence.

    Weakness didn¡¯t grip the newly turned glass-dogs for long. They pulled themselves to their feet, growling ferociously.

    ¡°Run!¡± I called out to the others. But the beasts only turned to look at me. I was their only target.

    Every mirror around me had morphed into that same muddy brown landscape I had been trapped in before. With little other option, I ran straight at it, letting myself get whisked away into the torrential rains.

    Once again, there were no mirrors. No glass, no metal, and no still water. It was a real locked room situation, once again.

    But the dogs burst out from the rain, nonetheless. The situation was so simple, I felt an incredulous laugh building inside me.

    Of course, it was the rain!

    It was basically the combination of a pond and a chandelier. Trickier to do than a waterfall, but I had heard of those being done, so why not?

    It was all for naught, anyways, because I was going to die here. The dogs lunged from every direction at me, and it took all I had to dodge them. I needed to get back into the mirror world, even if that was their domain. There was only one hope I had, and I needed to get to it.

    Going out of a chandelier is easier than going in. When you can really see all the fragments splayed out in front of you, your mind freaks out and doesn¡¯t process it properly. Or at least, that¡¯s what I had read.

    Despite my choice in hobbies, I was not an adventurous soul. I didn¡¯t do reflection-hopping for the spirit and the adventure and the thrill. I wasn¡¯t the type who would ever do a jump through a chandelier. Let alone through a moving, watery one. It was madness.

    Except they were snapping at me, getting in each other¡¯s way in their eagerness. The younger ones were small, and had become overexcited with the chase, which had led to them becoming undisciplined. They were tripping the bigger ones up. I needed to make my move before they fell in line.

    So, I threw caution to the wind. The mirrors were my home, my confidante, and now my allies. They wouldn¡¯t let me down like this.

    I closed my eyes as I let myself fall in, and bone-soaking wetness soon subsided into silent muffles. I was back inside. A clatter of claws confirmed that the dogs were on my trail.

    Now, I had to run.

    It was like the halls were bending to my will, twisting around like snakes, with enough bends to make sure the dogs never quite caught up, but also didn¡¯t lose me. Finally, I saw a giant mural taking up an entire section of the halls, red and hot, sending the image aquiver with the amount of heat radiating off from it.

    An entire pack of dogs behind me, I didn¡¯t hesitate to jump through, leading the monsters straight to their deaths.

    Fold startled above me as I broke through the waterfall.

    ¡°Maddy, what the fuck-¡± I heard him scream, even as I put the last of my energy in widening the gap between me and the rampaging beasts below.

    ¡°No questions, spill, spill, spill!¡± I told him. Thankfully, he didn¡¯t hesitate, taking a lever and pulling it down. A vat of glowing hot liquid poured directly onto the monsters, immediately wiping them all out. The heat was so intense, it nearly scorched my skin off, even from how far away I was standing.

    Momentarily, a collective, anguished howl went up. And then nothing. They all lay still, hulking blobs of glass and metal, finally downed.

    ¡°It¡¯s over.¡± Fold whispered as if he hardly believed it, ¡°They¡¯re gone.¡±

    A small, squeaky bark sounded that nearly froze the blood in my veins. And then one tiny dog came out, one of the newly turned ones. And the only surviving dog.

    It looked around at the carnage around it, and then scampered over to me, tongue hanging out.

    I reached my hand out to uncertainly pet it, but the creature had decided to not let any bad blood hang between us as it leaned into my hand. The fur, though bristly and sharp at the ends, was surprisingly soft.

    ¡°You¡¯re not keeping that thing.¡± Fold told me.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m not.¡± I confirmed, ¡°You want it, instead?¡±

    He was suspiciously quiet on that front.

 Epilogue: Falling Action

    ¡°Action 210 has been rejected outright.¡± The reporter announced, her voice as infuriatingly bland as it always was, ¡°Thanks in large part to the discovery of the mutations in dogs caused by various experiments held by civil departments. It is considered to be more prudent to allow the public access to this space to maintain full transparency. Furthermore, the global non-profit organization known as the ¡®Reflection Hopping Rangers¡¯ are stepping up to help Medley¡¯s law enforcement¡­¡±

    ¡°Wait a moment, wait.¡± Riley interrupted, three drinks in and thoroughly tipsy, ¡°The rangers are a non-profit?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. You didn¡¯t know?¡± I asked, ¡°Thought it was common knowledge. Nothing they do is governmentally accepted.¡±

    ¡°I feel like you¡¯re pulling this out of nowhere.¡± Fold laughed.

    ¡°Oh, go home to your man-eating monster dog.¡± I snapped, reaching for a sip of my scotch.

    We were all sitting in a solitary bar, eyes fixed on the flatscreen TV hung on the wall across from the bar area. Almost three weeks had passed, and finally the details of what had happened in Fold¡¯s hometown had come out to the general public. When we had gone out for a night of drinking, it hadn¡¯t been planned to be on the same day when every news station would be buzzing about the details. It had just been the first day when the doctors cleared me for moderate physical exertion.

    I was beginning to regret that decision.

    Trying to get my mind off that thought, I reached for the bottle we had ordered.

    ¡°You want some help opening that?¡± Riley asked, eyeing my taped-up arm. The doctors had managed to patch it up once we had dealt with the monsters. It wouldn¡¯t be the same ever again, and no doubt the pain and weakness and constant shaking would follow me through life, but I didn¡¯t care. I was glad enough that I hadn¡¯t gotten caught in the waterfall of molten metal.

    ¡°Sure.¡± I nodded to her, gingerly nudging the bottle towards her. Within seconds, a glass of amber liquid was put in front of me. It burned down my throat.

    Dave tipped his glass towards her, too, and sipped at it at a more sedate pace, ¡°So¡­ what¡¯re you guys doing now?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m on unpaid leave, so might as well have been fired.¡± I muttered glumly, taking another gulp, ¡°Moving in with Riley, if we¡¯re still up for that.¡±

    ¡°Of course, wouldn¡¯t miss it for the world.¡± Riley assured me.

    ¡°Indefinitely unemployed twins!¡± Dave did a whimsical jazz hand, before reaching over to give my absently raised glass a toast. Given his former profession as a firefighter, I wasn¡¯t shocked that he had lost the job. Still supremely unfair, though.

    ¡°Drop the doom and gloom, will you?¡± Fold complained, ¡°Think about the cash from media appearances! You all play your cards right, and this whole situation could get you rolling in the green for years to come!¡±

    ¡°A bit optimistic, don¡¯t you think?¡± David frowned, ¡°But let¡¯s give it a shot.¡±

    Riley clapped excitedly, ¡°I think the media lifestyle will suit you.¡± She explained, ¡°Stick by me, and I¡¯ll show you all the ropes.¡±

    ¡°Uh, sure?¡± He squeaked, looking baffled by her Cheshire grin.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°You two are just so adorable.¡± Fold drawled, ¡°Don¡¯t kill him, will you?¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t promise that.¡± She replied with a flick of her wrist, ¡°He¡¯s just built for this. With a little fine tuning, of course.¡±

    That only served to make David look even more startled. I had the strongest feeling that this wasn¡¯t going to end well for either of them.

    ----------

    Once we had finished and everyone was leaving, Fold grabbed me with a slight touch on my shoulder.

    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± I asked, looking at him in surprise.

    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­¡± He looked away, as if he was uncomfortable by the very notion, ¡°I guess this is goodbye, then.¡±

    There was a weight in his voice, placing a certain importance on this specific farewell.

    ¡°It¡¯s not like we¡¯re never going to meet.¡± I laughed, a little uncomfortable, ¡°Once this bandage comes off, I¡¯ll be doing all your deliveries like normal.¡±

    ¡°Is it, though?¡± He asked, his eyes dull, ¡°Because this feels like the end.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t say that.¡± I insisted, ¡°You¡¯ve¡­ you¡¯ve helped me a lot, these past few weeks. Made me find out things about me that even I didn¡¯t know. We¡¯re going to meet up all the time.¡±

    ¡°Even if I have a dog you¡¯re terrified of?¡± He asked with a grim smile.

    ¡°Sure.¡± I agreed, unthinking, ¡°Just don¡¯t expect me to come by much to your house.¡±

    -------

    It was a hard promise to keep up. We drifted apart. Forgot to call, missed some meet ups, and soon¡­ it had been months until we even thought of each other again.

    Three years later, and my arm slowly pieced itself back together. A shadow of my former abilities, but completely serviceable for my job. By that point, I hadn¡¯t talked to anyone involved in the Celina Minto case in a year.

    Fold¡¯s private investigative service was going well, according to the Yellow Pages. His very unique dog, now named Miffy, had grown up to the size of a lorry, and was now also working as the mascot for his business. She was remarkably well-behaved, despite her origins.

    I wasn¡¯t doing too bad, either. Still worked in the post office, but that¡¯s what made me happy.

    After the Action 210 scare, there had been more legislation to control reflection-hopping. I ended up having to learn how to drive after all, just in case. It was a useful skill, and oddly fun, too, when there wasn¡¯t any traffic.

    I hummed to myself as I walked back home from yet another grueling day at work. The mail van was parked at the office, and I was taking the opportunity to catch up on the newspaper article written about Riley for the morning issue of the news.

    ¡°Hey, miss?¡± A young voice burst into my thoughts. I looked down at her, the sweet girl in a pink frock, looking up at me with eyes full of childish curiosity, ¡°Are you the one who melted those giant dogs?¡±

    They¡¯d built a statue in Fold¡¯s town depicting the mess of twisted glass and metal left behind by the dogs. No doubt she was thinking of that when she had asked me this.

    ¡°No.¡± I replied, and that might have been enough, but I kept going, ¡°That was my detective friend. I was just bait.¡±

    The girl lit up, clearly wanting to ask more questions. I cursed my stupid mouth.

    ¡°Well, was it really scary?¡± She started to ramble, skipping along behind me as we approached a bend in the street, ¡°How fast were they moving? Why would you- hey, where¡¯d you go?!¡±

    The poor girl scrambled around, looking desperately for me. But there was nothing to be done about it. I was completely gone, vanished into the corner mirror. I snickered to myself as I wandered off. That trick never got old.

    A mirror shifted in front of me, turning into a warning exclamation mark. Just enough warning for me to not freak out when footsteps sounded behind me. I still didn¡¯t know who was communicating to me through those mirrors. Just accepted that it was the reflections, themselves.

    ¡°You know you traumatized that kid?¡± Lian laughed, falling in step with me.

    ¡°Listen, I didn¡¯t want to deal with that right now!¡± I whined, ¡°Don¡¯t judge me on this.¡±

    ¡°¡¯Course not. This is a judgement-free zone. I¡¯ve done worse, anyhow.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t believe you work for charity.¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s exactly why I do charity. Ever heard of repentance?¡±

    Lian was weird, but I liked her. She encouraged me to volunteer with the Rangers during dips in mail seasons.

    ¡°Want to go exploring tomorrow?¡± She asked, after some silence.

    ¡°No.¡± I told her, gripping the newspaper, ¡°I¡¯m planning a reunion. Between old friends.¡±

    She nodded approvingly, ¡°Good for you, Maddy, socializing!¡±

    A lot had changed, in the years. But not everything. We could still reconnect, over old traumas and encounters that I would really rather leave behind. If it hadn¡¯t been for the people I met along the way.

    They really made it all worth it.