Even as I stood near the door, something in my heart whispered that Beth was not alone. Already that loathsome very much familiar grating fragrance was kissing my nose as I placed a gloved hand to knock. That mildly repugnant mixture of wood and lavender. I roll my eyes.
Asher Dre.
I knock twice. Low. Persistent. Patient. Already trying not to imagine whatever naked angle Beth was trying to unfix herself from in her intoxicating wild sex sprees with Asher. It was not the first time she was snuggling him into our dorm room. It would also not be the last.
"Oh. Hi . Nightmare Carter" Asher's face peek out from the half open door. Remarkably handsome with the cocky arrogance that usually accompanied his famous bed prowess, Asher Dre was known in the whole school as a miser with the graceful good looks that kept many women hooked on him.... Many rich women...
I don't like Asher. Asides the fact that he finds it amusing calling me Nightmare, I also find his cockiness intolerable. But Beth adores him. And Beth is my roomie and isn't that one of the roomie inconveniences I have to tolerate... Even if I'm resisting the really dazzling thought of ungloving my hands and testing my new Telectrokinesis. On him.
I manage a small smile "Hello, Ash. Where's Beth?"
He laughs. "She's..." He opens the door a bit wider so I get a good glimpse of stark naked hairy chest and a towel draped snugly around his waist. He leans closer and says emphatically "Exhausted."
"Good for you" I snort .
"Anytime." He licks his lips and I am rubbing my gloved hands together, fighting once more with the urge to shut his cocky mouth up with a small spark. Beth's face peaks at the door and it creaks wider open. Gosh. She's half naked too. She shoves Asher back with a spank and a small pull . He gives one more obscene mouth lick before vanishing out of my view.
"Hello Night. Did you have a pleasant weekend.?" Beth's face has that ecstatic thrill and her voice sounds pretty much .. exhausted.
I lower my voice three pitches down "You made up with Asher.? And I thought he was gone for good."
She says flatly in a whisper "He can never be gone for good. Baby girl, you need to see what he's endowed with. I am never letting that dick out of my coochie."
"Let that pussycat breath a little " I laugh "So what happened to Gloria "
"Gone for good" Beth grins, encompassing me in a tight hug "Girrrl, I missed you. Well you look so radiant I don't need to ask if you had a good time. "
"I did." I let myself flow into the hug. After a traumatic experience at Don Puerto, I was glad to be back in the familiarity of school. And Beth. And her fangs and ash white skin.
She drifts into gist mode as we pull away "You heard the shit about Jordan Files? He was nearly bashed dead at his photoshoot."
"Emphasis on nearly" Asher jumps in , fully dressed now "Folks are saying it's the wolf community. They are raving mad cos he's now a Bloodstone."
Beth clicks her tongue "They not the only people with a reason to be mad at him. Jordan is practically a cocky pain in the ass . Everyone's got a reason or two to want him spooked."
Asher darts his eyes at me "Well, Nightmare, what do you think.?"
A lump kisses my throat but I say flatly "I think I need a couple of hours to sleep after a really tiring weekend. Before my tired life turns into a nightmare. "
Wedging myself firmly between their startled glares, I walk into the room and collapse on the warmth of my bed.
_______________________________________
Mrs. Webb's class has all the usual eerie spookiness associated with Mirror Lore. But this time I drift in without a hesitance because three days of parading gloved even in blazing heat, I needed to do something about this powers. I needed to find Jordan Files.
For fucks sake, my fingers needed a touch of air. But I could only unglove with my eyes close. If not, shards of lightening would rip out of any object I stared at.
"Mirror Lore," Mrs. Webb begins, dragging the chalk across the board, "is not about reflections. It is about echoes. What you see in the glass is not you — it's the version of you that believes it's more real."
Her words slice the air. A couple of students giggle. I don't. My gloved fingers twitch on the desk, small static crackling under the leather like impatient insects. I clench my fists and pretend to take notes.
Jordan Files is late.
He's always late. Another of his peculiar flaws but today, I am not finding it charmingly sweet.
Mrs. Webb keeps talking about mirror resonance — how souls can get trapped when a mirror is cracked during possession rituals.
"Every mirror holds its own lore," she drones. "And every broken one remembers the shatter."
I'm only half listening. The seat beside me is still empty. My pulse keeps skipping like a scratched record. I hate that I'm this aware of it — aware of him — aware of the emptiness he's supposed to fill.
Tapping the chalk on the board, Mrs Webb drones on "In reflective resonance in mirror Lore, we must watch out for anomalies in the glass".
A hand pins my gloved hands firm on the desk. I freeze, my heart jumping in my throat. The very familiar expensive perfume that reeks gratingly of casual arrogance awakens the jittery feelings in my stomach.
A low voice whispers "Anomalies. I guess that's us."
Jordan Files.