The Grimm Legacy

“What does that mean?” said Aaron. The mirror didn’t deign to respond.

“I think it might mean she’s a doll.”

“Yes, yes, we know she’s gorgeous, but where is she?”

“No, I mean she’s really a doll. We think Mr. Stone turned her into a figurine. He tried to do it to us too.”

I turned to the mirror.

“Do you literally mean

That Anjali’s a figurine?”

Aaron’s reflection in the mirror nodded. “Don’t get your panties in a whirl,” it answered, demonstrating with an obscene-looking gesture. “She’s a puppet, not a girl.”

“Oh, no, that’s horrifying!” I said.

“How are we going to get her back?” said Aaron.

I addressed the mirror:

“We’re terrified for Anjali.

Tell us how to set her free.”

Aaron’s reflection shook its finger at me teasingly and said,

“But Liz, your rival’s locked away.

Here’s your chance to seize the day.”

Aaron turned to me, his eyes widening. “Is that true? Is Anjali your rival? Why?”

“Oh, come on! Don’t tell me you believe that thing! You know it’s evil! You said yourself it likes to mess with people.”

“Yeah, I guess. She sounded pretty convincing, though.”

“Who did?”

“The mirror.”

“Why are you calling it ‘she’? It was talking in your voice.”

“No, it wasn’t—it was using yours. And now she’s smirking at me, just like you do.”

Aaron was glowering at me, but his reflection looked like it was about to burst out laughing.

“I bet that’s because we can’t see ourselves from where we’re sitting, just each other. The mirror has to show us what we see reflected. Come over here so it reflects us both,” I said. I sat on the bed, across from the mirror. Aaron walked over and sat down beside me, his shoulder touching mine.

In the mirror, his reflection put its arm around my reflection’s shoulders. My reflection nestled against him and looked up at him with adoring eyes. His reflection started playing with my reflection’s hair. She twisted around, curled her legs up on the bed, and put her head in his lap. I heard myself give an embarrassed giggle. It was almost as embarrassing as what was going on in the mirror.

Aaron looked embarrassed too. He said,

“Anjali! Is she okay?

I’d like an answer, please—today.”

Our reflections put their cheeks together and crooned,

“She’s surrounded by her peers,

Royals missing through the years.

She’s the glory of the hoard—

Safe enough, though rather bored.”

Then they put their foreheads together and looked into each other’s eyes.

I turned to Aaron and said, “Right. So if we can trust the mirror, she’s safe where she is, for now. That’s good news, anyway. We have some time to figure everything out.”

“While you try to get Marc’s attention, with your rival away?”

“Aaron, what is the matter with you?”

In the mirror, our reflections were staring at us with their mouths parted, as if they were watching the climax of an exciting movie. They had their arms around each other.

“Come on, Aaron! Let’s try one more time to get something useful out of the horrible thing, and if we can’t, let’s smash it. Or at least cover it.”

“Yes, okay. You ask this time.”

I thought for a bit and said,

“For the last time—answer me!

How can we free Anjali?”

As if they knew this was their last chance to torment us, the couple in the mirror turned to each other with a new intensity. Like a ghastly parody of Marc and Anjali in the magic painting after the basketball game—or my dream that night—Aaron’s reflection began kissing my reflection on the neck. She turned to us and breathed,

“Want to rescue Anjali?

Find and use the Golden Key.”

Then she went back to making out with Aaron’s reflection.

“Stop it!” said Aaron. The door opened behind us and a woman came in. I saw her in the mirror, staring out at us—evidently the real woman was staring at our reflections in the mirror.

I could see why; they were well worth staring at. They sprang apart hurriedly, straightening their clothes. By the time the real woman turned to look at the real us, our reflections were sitting up very straight, a foot apart, blushing furiously—exactly like us, as if they were reflections in a normal mirror.

“Mom! Can’t you knock?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company.” She looked at me expectantly.

“This is—this is my friend from the repository. We were just . . . ,” Aaron trailed off.

Aaron’s mother held out her hand to me. “Let me guess—Angeline?”

“No, Mom, not Anjali! It’s not Angeline, anyway, it’s Anjali,” said Aaron. “AHHHN-jah-lee. It’s Indian.”

“I’m so sorry, Anjali. I’m Rebecca Rosendorn.” I could see her struggling not to look thrown off balance, wondering how someone so obviously Caucasian had ended up with an Indian name. If I hadn’t been so busy trying to get my own balance, I would have felt sorry for her.

“But I’m not Anjali,” I said. “I’m Elizabeth. Elizabeth Rew.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Elizabeth! Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’ll just . . . leave this door open, shall I?” She left the room, with the door gaping wide.

I picked up my coat. “I think I’d better go. I don’t think there’s anything more we can do about Anjali tonight, and your mom—”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He walked me to the apartment door. “Want me to take you home?” he asked. “Or at least to the subway stop?”

“Thanks, I think I can get there myself.”

“Okay—see you tomorrow, then.”

“Bye.” I concentrated on getting to the subway. It was hard, but it helped keep my mind off what our reflections were doing under that blanket. I made it home with only one false turn.

Chapter 20: The shrink ray

The next morning I went to the repository early and looked for Marc. He was on Stack 6. I looked around to make sure nobody was listening. “Well?” I whispered. “What are we going to do about the kuduo?”

“It’s done,” he said. “I just got back from Stone’s.”

“You did it? You stole the kuduo? You were supposed to wait for me!”