The night air had chilled despite the warmth of the room.
Liya stood in front of the wide floor-length mirror in her private dressing suite, nestled on the upper floor of her luxury penthouse. Golden lamplight spilled over the room like liquid silk, yet her skin felt cold, as though something unseen had slithered through her walls. She pressed her hand against the glass, her breath shallow, eyes scanning her reflection.
She looked perfect; flawless skin, glossy curls framing her doll-like face, makeup so delicately applied it looked painted by angels.
But then
Movement.
Behind her reflection.
A slow, crawling shift of shadow across the corners of the mirror. At first, Liya thought it was the play of light maybe her chandelier flickering.
Then came the sound.
"You left me..."
A voice. Not a whisper, not a shout but something in-between. Close enough to kiss her ear.
Liya whirled around.
Nothing.
Silence settled thick and sticky.
Her eyes darted to the mirror again and there he was.
The man.
The man they ran over.
His mangled body stood behind her reflection, twisted legs and all, with one eye bulging from the socket and dried blood caking his mouth. His head lolled slightly as if his neck couldn't hold up the weight of his rage.
"You left me to rot..." he rasped, taking a step closer in the mirror.
"AHHHHHHHH!!!"
Liya screamed,a high, blood-curdling scream that pierced through the suite like shattered glass.
She stumbled backward, knocking over a vase that exploded into pieces at her feet. Her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the floor in her designer gown, hands trembling uncontrollably.
"No! No...go away!" she shrieked. "It wasn't...It wasn't my fault! I didn't mean to...Julian said no one saw, it's over...it's over!"
She covered her face, sobbing hysterically as coldness blanketed the room, the kind of chill that clung to her skin like sweat.
The man was still there. Watching. Unblinking.
She screamed again, curling into herself like a wounded animal.
The door slammed open.
"Liya!"
Julian's voice boomed as he rushed in. "Liya, what happened?!"
She looked up, her mascara running down her cheeks like black tears. "He's here! He was here...he's here, Julian!"
Julian quickly knelt beside her and grabbed her shoulders. "Who? What are you talking about?"
"The man. The one we..." she stopped herself, swallowing her words in dread. "The man. From that night. He was in the mirror. I swear...he was here! He was watching me! His eyes...his eyes were…"
Julian's jaw tightened.
"Liya. You're tired. You haven't slept properly in days. You're imagining things. It's your guilt," he said carefully, not unkindly. "You're under pressure. All those rehearsals, interviews, shoots...your mind's playing tricks."
She clutched his sleeves like a child lost in a nightmare. "No. No. You didn't see him. He was right there...his blood, his face. Julian, please! Please make it stop. Make him go away."
Julian hesitated for a moment. Then his features softened. He took her hands gently and helped her up from the floor.
"Okay," he said calmly. "Okay. I'll stay with you tonight, alright? I'll handle everything. Nothing will happen to you. I promise."
Liya nodded, though her eyes were wide and glassy, still darting to the mirror now and then.
Julian closed the mirror's closet door tightly and turned the lock, then led her to the velvet couch. He poured her a glass of water with his steady, unshakable hands and handed it to her.
As she drank, Julian's gaze briefly flickered toward the mirror once more.
There was nothing there.
But for just a second
A second too quick to be sure
He thought he saw a smear of blood at the corner of the glass.
He said nothing.
It was past sunset when Cassie found herself wandering the old alleyways behind the market district, a neighborhood of forgotten doors, worn-down awnings, and the clatter of unseen lives behind cracked shutters.
Marcuk had asked to show her something.
The boy's ghost hovered beside her, translucent and dim under the flickering streetlights. There was something different in his gaze tonight. He wasn't begging. He wasn't angry.
He was… grieving.
Cassie turned a corner at his silent gesture, and then she saw her an old woman, hunched and shrunken beneath three coats and a faded sunhat. She struggled with a rusted cart stacked high with flattened cardboard boxes. Her gloved hands trembled from the effort of pulling the load up the slope.
Cassie's heart sank.
"Is that…" she whispered.
Marcuk nodded, his voice cracking. "My mom."
They stood in silence as the woman stopped to wipe her brow with a frayed sleeve. Her breath came in short, painful puffs. The alley echoed with the soft squeak of the wheels and the dull thud of boxes shifting.
Cassie clenched her fists, her voice shook. "Why doesn't anyone help her? She's all alone…"
"She has no one," Marcuk said. "My father left when I was six. She raised me by herself. Took on five jobs. Collected recycling, cleaned apartments, ironed other people's clothes… all so I could take dance classes."
Cassie glanced at him. The boy's transparent frame trembled. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and yet they never touched the ground.
"I promised her," he said, voice strangled. "I promised I'd buy her a house one day. That I'd make it. That she'd never have to pick up another piece of trash again. I even made her dream of sitting in the front row when I'd perform at the dome stage…"
His hand covered his mouth as he tried to muffle a sob.
Cassie blinked rapidly, her throat thick. "Marcuk…"
"I died before I could give her anything."
The cart gave a sudden lurch.
One of the wheels hit a loose stone. The top-heavy pile wobbled dangerously.
Then gravity took hold.
The cart slipped from her grasp and began to roll down the incline.
"NO!" the woman shouted in alarm, running after it with ragged gasps.
Cassie didn't think. Her body moved before her mind could catch up.
"Ma'am! Stay back...I'll get it!" she shouted, bolting after the runaway cart.
Marcuk shouted behind her, "Cassie, wait!"
The cart, wild and out of control, barreled down the street, its wheels shrieking, and Cassie sprinted after it with all her might. Her legs burned. Her breath hitched.
She barely heard the blare of a horn.
A car.
A black sedan turned the corner, headlights flashing, tires screeching on the wet road. It surged into view at the intersection,headlights blinding and barreling straight for her.
Cassie's heart leapt to her throat. The cart was right in front of her. But so was death.
Cassie's eyes widened. She tried to stop, but her foot slipped
And then
A gust of wind. A flash of black.
Strong arms wrapped around her, sweeping her completely off the ground. The world spun. Tires screeched nearby.
Cassie crashed against a firm chest and heard the thump of a heartbeat that wasn't hers.
They landed gently at the side of the road.
Her breath shuddered as she looked up, gasping.
Adrian.
Dark eyes. Pale skin. That eternally bored expression. His long coat fluttered like shadows around him, untouched by the wind.
She blinked, gasping. "You...what the..
? How are you always…?!"
But Adrian wasn't looking at her. His gaze was focused past her.
He raised one hand.
With a flick of his wrist and the cart stopped.
It froze mid-roll, just inches from crashing into a concrete wall, as if held by invisible hands.
Cassie gawked.
"You really have a death wish," he muttered.
Cassie sputtered. "I...I didn't mean...She was gonna get hurt!"
He gave her a look so flat it might as well have been a slap. "And what would she do if you ended up as another ghost next to her son?"
Cassie's mouth opened, but she had no words.
"Next time, watch where you're running," Adrian said.
The old woman stumbled onto the street seconds later, out of breath and shaking.
"Miss! Miss, are you okay?" she asked, grabbing Cassie's hands. "You… you saved my cart…"
Cassie turned toward her, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I'm okay. Really. I'm just glad nothing broke."
The woman clasped her hands together in gratitude. "Thank you. These boxes… they're worth so little, but they're all I have right now."
Cassie's lips trembled. "You don't have to thank me."
"I do," the woman whispered. Her eyes tired, gentle, sad looked so much like Marcuk's. "You're very kind."
Cassie glanced behind her wanting to ask Adrian what he thought, wanting to yell at him for not warning her sooner, or at least let her fall less dramatically into his arms.
But he was gone.
Just like that.
Vanished into the air with no sound, no shadow, no farewell.
Cassie sighed.
Typical.
She turned back to the woman. "Can I help you push it back up?"
The woman smiled with a soft shake of her head. "I've done it so long. It's like breathing. But your heart is beautiful, child."
As they watched her slowly pushed the cart up the hill, Marcuk hovered a distance behind, his face tear-streaked and his eyes locked on his mother.
"I never got to tell her goodbye," he whispered.
Cassie met his eyes.
"I'll keep going," she said softly. "I'll find out the truth. For both of you."
"Thank you, Cassie."
"You're welcome."
Cassie looked down the street, the city lights reflecting in puddles, the hum of life continuing despite everything.
And though she was terrified of the path ahead, in that moment she knew she couldn't turn back.