It wouldn't budge.
“Here, let me try,” Narcissus offered. “It can be tricky.”
I moved aside, and Narcissus wriggled it. The latch held firm. He shoved it with his shoulder, but it didn't even rattle.
“I think I may know what that clanging was,” I said dryly. “The one that came shortly after the Mirror's threat to kill us all.”
“It locked us in,” Narcissus said as he turned to face me.
“Yep.” I looked around for something heavy.
A wooden vanity sat meekly to the left of the bath, beside a folding screen that I assumed hid a toilet. A chair posed before the low table with its collection of hairbrushes and crystal jars. I went over and grabbed the chair as I shook my head at the vanity. What kind of man has a vanity? Sure, men groomed themselves—at least, the civilized ones do—but I've never known one to actually sit down before a mirror, brush his hair, and gussy himself up. But Narcissus' grooming habits weren't important at the moment. Getting out of that damn mirror-house was.
I lugged the chair back to the window, and Narcissus stepped out of my way with an encouraging nod. I tossed the thing at the glass with all of my significant might and then jumped back; expecting shards to go flying.
Nothing flew but the chair; right back into the room.
Narcissus and I both gaped at it as it came to a screeching stop on a mosaic.
“What the...” I didn't have the words.
“So, it's war then,” Narcissus muttered as he glared at the obstinate window.
“It seems that way,” I agreed.
“I guess we're going to need a better plan.”
“And a bigger boat.” I grimaced. “Or chair, rather.”
We may not have been dealing with a giant shark, but it sure felt as if I were floating in deep water with something monstrous circling below me. Something with sharp teeth and a huge appetite.
Chapter Fifteen
There was no way out of Narcissus' bedroom; only the door we had come through—that now had a metal wall blocking it—and the indestructible window. The only other door in the room led to a closet; a long corridor full of wooden boxes. I had expected it to be a dressing room but with Narcissus' ability to manifest clothing, he didn't need a dressing room.
We spent hours trying to come up with a way out; Narcissus floating in his tub—he said the water helps him think—and I on one of the lounges. I was strung tightly with worry for Trevor and Kirill, but I could sense them through our bonds, and I knew they were alive. I could have even tracked them if there had been a way out of that damn room.
Narcissus fell asleep at one point—not in the tub, he'd gotten out to lie on a chaise across from me—and I watched him thoughtfully. Morpheus had said not to trust him. Yes; Narcissus had refused to kill me, but that clearly stemmed from my promise to get him out. If the Mirror made it a choice between him or us, I had no doubt that it would be us. Not that I'd have chosen any differently. But it didn't allow for trust.
I got up quietly and began to search the room. I might as well find out as much as I could about the narcissist when I had the chance. There weren't a lot of hiding spots in the bedroom so after I pulled open the vanity drawers and peered under the bed, I headed for the closet.
“Aw, what's in the box?” I whined the Seven quote á la Brad Pitt. “Damn it; now, I'm thinking of heads in boxes.”
I went to the first box and opened it warily. Then I gaped at the contents. Nope; not heads.
I reached down and picked up a blonde braid of hair. Silky strands shone softly, bound by blue ribbon at each end. One of the ribbons had a tag attached to it. Looping script in sepia ink announced; Joy Pritchard, female, Geneva, Ohio, U.S.A. 2019. I dropped the hair as if I'd been burned. The box was full of them; locks of hair in all colors, some long braids and some just tufts in tiny pouches. My eyes skimmed over other tags; each lock bore a name, a place, and a year. I shut the lid with a soft but horrified thud. My skin ran cold as I looked down the line of boxes.
On shaking legs, I stood and went down the row, randomly flipping back lids. Every box contained locks of hair; the years on the tags going back further and further until I reached the end of the room and found hair dating back to a time before Christ's death. Granted, they didn't say “B.C.” on them, but I figured it out from the descent in numbers and then the sudden climb. The further back I went, the fewer braids there seemed to be for each time period. Narcissus had told the truth; the Mirror had started taking more humans in recent years. What he hadn't told me was that he'd kept mementos of each victim.
Or were they trophies?
I hurried out of the room and found Narcissus still asleep on the chaise. I seriously considered killing him, but I wasn't certain that he was guilty of murder nor was I sure what his death would do to the Mirror and its curse. Narcissus might be the key to keeping this world of illusions from self-destructing. Magic can be tricky.
I moved away from Narcissus and went to lie on his bed instead. I needed to calm down; I was already strung tightly because of the whole being trapped and separated from my husbands thing. The possibility that Narcissus was a psychopath on top of everything else was too much to deal with. I closed my eyes and
