She found a light switch outside one of the anterooms, and when she flipped it on, Sonya simply continued toward the massive ballroom doors.
When she threw them open, stepped into the shadows, Cleo switched on the first of the chandeliers.
It showered light over the mirror that stood amid the furniture they’d undraped, searched through, shifted. Its glass tossed back that light as the predators framing it seemed to snarl as if guarding what centered them.
“What should I do? I don’t know what to do. What do you see in there? All I see is us. But … God, if it’s some sort of portal, I’m not letting you go alone.”
The cold cut to the bone, and she could hear the pound, pound, pound of that heartbeat from the Gold Room. Beyond the mirror, the shadows danced, but she feared stepping back far enough to turn on more light.
Then she heard the rat-a-tat of Yoda’s barking. And the deeper answer of another dog. Trey, finally. She nearly called out, but she could already hear the racing footsteps.
“Please wait, Sonya. Just wait.”
They came up with a racket that steadied her nerves. Risking a glance back, she saw Trey hadn’t brought only his dog.
“Thank God. It’s here. The mirror. It wasn’t, but it’s here. She made some stops along the way. It’s been a journey.” Shivering, Cleo hugged her elbows.
“It’s a meat locker in here.” Owen stripped off his jacket, handed it to her even as Trey shrugged out of his own.
“Thanks. Should we wake her, Trey? I don’t know if we should. She saw things, she said things.”
As Trey started to drape his jacket over Sonya’s shoulders, she said, “I’m awake.”
Instead of the jacket, Trey draped himself around her. “You’re freezing, cutie.”
“I wasn’t. I don’t think.”
“Were you awake this whole time?” Cleo demanded.
“Just now. Standing here. I was dreaming. And I … don’t know. I don’t remember. I feel sort of out of it. Do you see the mirror? Is it real?”
“It’s real.”
With one hand in Trey’s, Sonya reached out to touch the frame. “I’m not dreaming, and we all see it.”
“Maybe”—Cleo rubbed a hand on Sonya’s back—“you woke up because we do.”
“Do you see what’s in it?”
“Mirrored glass,” Trey began. “And all of us.”
“No. No. I see…”
“Colors, movement. Light, shadows.”
With a kind of desperate relief, Sonya turned to Owen. “Yes. You see it?”
“Yeah.” He looked at Trey, at Cleo. “You don’t?”
“You’re both Pooles, we’re not.” Cleo lifted her hands. “That must be it.”
“My father saw it, Collin saw it. Maybe others, too. There are people, dancing. I hear music.”
“Way old-timey,” Owen confirmed. “Bad acoustics,” he added, “like in a tunnel. It’s getting brighter,” he added. “And the music’s louder.”
“It’s here, the ballroom, but it’s full of flowers and people. Everything shines and glistens.” Charmed, Sonya put a hand on the glass. Her fingers slid straight through. “Oh. It’s warm on the other side.”
“Sonya.” Trey took her wrist, drew her hand away.
“I’m supposed to go. It pulls at me. I need to see. It’s part of my inheritance. Do you feel it, Owen, the pull?”
“No, but I see it, and I hear it. So.” When he put his hand on the glass, it went through to the wrist. “That’s a kick in the nuts.”
After pulling his hand out, he turned it, studied it. “Still intact, and yeah, it’s warmer over there.”
Sonya gripped Trey’s hand, and Cleo’s with her other. “I’m awake. I’m aware. I need to go. I can’t explain, but I want to go. I’d rather go when I know what I’m doing, when it’s my decision, and when you’re all here.”
Trey pressed his hand to the mirror, felt only solid glass. Over Sonya’s head, he shifted his gaze to Owen’s.
“Yeah, I got it.”
Understanding, Sonya turned to him. “You don’t have to do this. It doesn’t pull at you.”
“Don’t be stupid.” Owen took her hand from Cleo’s, linked fingers. “I’ll go first.”
With a hand on Owen’s shoulder, Trey bent down to kiss Sonya. “Don’t keep me waiting long.”