Mina landed on something cold and hard. The glow of the portal she had been hurled through closed up, leaving her in pitch black. What mirror was she in? It wasn’t the bathroom, hall, or kitchen. The darkness surrounding her made her shiver. Was it the house trying to help her again? Where had Nix even found this mirror?
She sat up and groaned in pain, her foot scraping across what sounded like stone. Mina felt around her and along the freezing cold floor. There. A wall. Better to have that to her back than be wide open to who knew what. As she shifted, she heard something slide across stone. Someone or something was in the darkness with her.
“Who’s there?” she called out softly.
No one answered, but she heard a slight cough. Terrified of being attacked in the dark, she scrambled along the wall until she felt a somewhat familiar shelf. She sighed in relief when she felt a paint can, toolbox, and next to it a flashlight. Nix had found a mirror in the basement. Clicking it on, she swung the beam in an arc while she kept her senses on high alert.
The light illuminated a leg in dark jeans. She followed the leg up to a body in in a red shirt and hesitated just before reaching the face. Did she send up a silent prayer? She wasn’t sure. Gathering her courage, she shined the beam on the person’s face, and his hand came up to block the light.
“Ow!” The voice grumbled. “Give a guy a break.”
“Sorry.” Mina moved the beam away but brought it back close enough that she could see his face clearly. Her heart was already thudding loudly in her ears, and the flashlight shook in her hands.
It looked like him, but he had his face turned away from the light as if he was purposely avoiding looking at her. She had to know.
“Is it really you?”
“Go away.” His voice was low, almost growling at her.
“Not until you tell me who you are.”
The man lunged at her, his voice rising in animalistic pitch. “Go away!”
Chains attached to the floor below him brought him up short. His body convulsed, and he stopped struggling against his bonds. He slowly turned his back on her, chains rustling. Now she had a full view of his back.
But she knew.
“Jared. It is you!” Mina moved to just outside the reach of his chains and tried to sit on the floor.
“It’s me, Mina.”
He hadn’t changed. His dark hair was longer, unkempt from lack of care. His face looked thinner, but it was still just as handsome beneath the layers of grime. She hadn’t seen his eyes, but she didn’t really want to know their color.
She told herself it wouldn’t matter. This was Jared.
He turned and gave her a long searching look. She waited for recognition to flare in his eyes, for the smile to reach his lips.
He just sneered. “Mina. What a pathetic name—for a pathetic girl.”
“I’m not pathetic. You are. You’re the one lying here in filth and dirt.”
His head rolled to the side, as if holding it up took too much effort. This time he did smile cruelly as he shook the silver manacles in front of him and shook the chains at her. “I, at least, have a reason, for it. You do not belong here. You need to leave,” he warned.
“I’m not leaving without you,” Mina promised, moving forward slowly, unthreateningly. She motioned to his manacles, and he held them up for her to inspect.
Her heart dropped when she saw how bloody and mangled his wrists were under the metal. No padding protected his skin from the iron, which was terribly painful to Fae. On someone not as strong, it might have killed them or driven them mad. Of course, she wasn’t sure how much time had passed on this mirror plane. How long had he been here? Was he still safe?
She closed her eyes, and her hand glowed over the lock. A loud click followed, and the first manacle fell from his wrist.
Jared groaned in pain as some of his skin came off with the manacle, but he held out his left hand as she did the same to the second lock. This time, he clenched his teeth as she held the manacle still and carefully pulled it off, mindful of his wounds.
His breathing had quickened from the pain. She bit her lip and studied the raw and bloody wrists. He needed more than just bandages—he needed a hospital. She ran to the basement door and pulled on the handle, only to find a solid brick wall. They were trapped in the mirror. A reflection of the Grimm family basement. A brick room with no windows, and the only way out blocked by a brick wall. It was the perfect cell. Designed to withhold Teague. Of course there wouldn’t be an easy way out.
“Okay, this might hurt.” She spoke soothingly as she placed her hands above his wrists and concentrated on healing his hands. She watched her work with surprised satisfaction—his wrists glowed, and the skin started to heal. When she was done, she frowned. Terrible scars remained on his wrists.