“HOLY SILT!” Astrid yelped, darting backward.
She crashed into a heavy wooden deck chair, toppled over it, and fell against a shelf of cruise ship kitchenware. The shelf broke. Pots, pans, and pitchers came tumbling down. The noise was deafening.
I’ve just woken the entire village, Astrid thought as a mixing bowl bounced off her skull.
The head was still there. It was peering at Astrid from inside the mirror. As she watched, a neck appeared underneath it, then a body.
“It’s only a vitrina,” she whispered when her heartbeat returned to something like normal. Vapid and vain, vitrina were the souls of terragoggs who’d spent too much time gazing into mirrors when they were alive.
The ghost had poked her head around the mirror’s frame, but now she walked fully into the glass. She wore a wasp-waisted dress, flat shoes, and pearls. Her hair was swept up in a sleek twist.
“Are you trying to come in?” she asked as a scowling Astrid extricated herself from the avalanche.
“Yes, I am,” Astrid said, rubbing her bruised tail. “How did you do it?”
“I wanted to be the prettiest girl in Paris,” the vitrina said. “And I told the mirror. Over and over again. What do you want? To be the prettiest mermaid in the sea?”
“Um, not exactly,” Astrid replied.
A noise coming from the current made her freeze. Her eyes went to the door, but no one was there. She placed her palm on the mirror again.
The vitrina clapped her hands. “Oh, I know! You want to be the prettiest mermaid in all the seas!”
“How did you guess?” Astrid said sarcastically, growing impatient with this bubblehead.
“All you have to do is tell the mirror,” said the vitrina encouragingly.
Astrid knew it was dangerous to state her desires. Orfeo was in that liquid-silver world somewhere, and he might hear. But what choice did she have?
Her hand still on the glass, she closed her eyes. “I want the black pearl,” she said.
Nothing happened, but she heard the noise again: a voice, outside on the current. Astrid swam to the window, careful to stay in the shadows, and peered out. A Feuerkumpel goblin was walking toward the shop. She could see his topknot of black hair. Lava burn scars pitted his face. He had nostrils but no nose, sharp teeth, and transparent eyes. His body was covered by hard, bony black plates. He was cursing loudly.
Maybe he’s a town guard or the shop owner, Astrid thought. He must’ve heard the racket she’d made and was coming to investigate. She raced back to the mirror and tried again to go through the glass, fear plucking at her nerves.
“I want Abbadon dead.”
The vitrina crossed her arms. She gave Astrid a skeptical look. “Are you telling the mirror what you really want?”
Astrid gritted her teeth. “I want Orfeo dead. I want Rylka to pay for murdering my father. I want Portia and Vallerio out of Ondalina. I want my brother and mother to be safe.”
But again, nothing happened. And the goblin was coming closer.
It’s no use, Astrid thought, panicking. Whatever little bit of magic I still have isn’t strong enough to get me through the glass.
She heard a shout. And then two more. Whoever was out there was bringing friends. She had to get out of here before they caught her.
She was just about to look for a back door when the vitrina said, “Wait!”
Astrid, frantic now, turned to her.
“You’re not being honest. Until you are, the mirror won’t let you in. Admit it—you want to be the prettiest mermaid in every sea, ocean, bay, river, lake, pond, stream, creek, waterfall, and puddle,” the vitrina said, wagging her finger. “Who doesn’t want to be the prettiest? For goodness’ sake, mermaid, just say what you want!”
Astrid tried one last time. Putting both hands on the glass, she closed her eyes. “I want…” she started to say, searching for the right words.
And then, sudden and unbidden, they came. From the deepest part of her heart.
“I want my magic back.”
An instant later, she was tumbling headfirst through the mirror.
“AND THEN the ship hit the rocks and broke into a million pieces!” trilled the mermaid Laktara.
She threw her head back and laughed. The sound was musical and beguiling, every bit as beguiling as her beautiful face, her green eyes, and the thick auburn tresses that cascaded down her back.
“Tell me the rest of the story, Tara!” Lucia Volnero called out from her dressing room, where she was changing into a gown.
But Laktara was laughing so hard, she couldn’t speak. Falla, her sister, had to finish the story.
“It wasn’t just any ship we destroyed,” Falla said, giggling herself. “It was a cruise ship. There were a thousand goggs aboard. They threw themselves over the railing—splish, splash, sploosh—to get to us!”