The house was enormous; there were a million places where Mick could be, where Brodie or DJ could be—and where the killer could be. There had been no sign of anyone yet, and she couldn’t call out for fear of drawing the attention of the wrong person.
The underground hall that she was now in was as huge as the African Room, perhaps bigger, as there seemed to be passageways leading off in all different directions.
But as she looked around her, she realized that was the least of her problems.
Just as in the movie, the curved walls of the ballroom were lined with mirrors.
And the trouble with a glamour is that it tricks the eye but not a mirror or camera.
So, anytime she was in the line of sight of a mirror, she was in sight. In the relatively uncluttered place where she was standing now, she was surrounded by hundreds of her own reflections.
She stared at herself across the room and instantly dropped to her knees beside a statue to get out of the mirrors’ range.
Now what? she asked herself with a touch of hysteria as she hugged the floor. Crawl across the floor to the staircase? Find the elevator and take a chance on that? Turn into a spider and hide until this is over?
And then suddenly her heart leaped with terror...as she felt hands on her shoulders, pulling her up.
Chapter 22
Barrie felt a scream rising in her throat, and then a hand was clamped tightly around her mouth and she stared into the black and fathomless gaze...of DJ.
He put a finger to his lips and stared into her eyes to see if she was going to cooperate. She nodded, shaking, and he released her.
He must have seen me in the mirrors, she realized.
“What’s happening?” she whispered. “Are you all right?”
“We’re not alone,” he mouthed.
“Who?” she choked out.
He raised his hands to silently indicate I don’t know.
“Have you seen Brodie? Or Mick?”
He frowned, even as his eyes were darting around them in the dark, searching for anyone hidden in the shadows. “Who are they?”
She didn’t have time to explain who. She was too busy wondering where they were.
“You haven’t seen anyone?” she whispered.
“I feel someone,” DJ answered ominously.
You’re a vampire, she thought. Turn into mist or something.
But that wasn’t fair. He was also a troubled soul, psychologically fixated at the age of sixteen in a haunted past.
I need to get him out of here, she thought. We can look for Brodie and Mick just as well on the way out, and it’s better than staying here.
“Come on,” she whispered. “We’re getting out of here.”
The actor shook his head wildly. “I can’t leave. I’ve tried. Someone’s put up a wall. There are hexed crosses up at every exit. I’m locked in.”
Barrie’s heart dropped in dismay. This is a planned attack, then, an ambush. And by someone who knows the rules of the Otherworld.
The clink and rattling of chains echoed from somewhere in the vast, silent room, and she and DJ both froze. They weren’t alone.
Then DJ put a finger to his lips and held up a hand, indicating she should stay hidden.
He stepped forward toward the sound, into the circular space that held the three thrones. “Who’s there?” he called out in an impressively menacing voice.
He is an actor, Barrie thought from her position crouched below him. But then, as she looked up, she saw a look flicker across DJ’s face: confusion, recognition, wariness, disbelief.
“Who are you?” he said to someone Barrie couldn’t see.
Another voice came from the darkness. “Come on, Deej, we don’t have time for this. You know who I am.”
From her hiding place, Barrie felt a profound shock. It was Mick’s voice, but he sounded like a different person, a younger person.
She crawled closer to a standing screen so she could peer out through the cutouts to see what was going on. She nearly gave herself away; she had to bite back a gasp. She was looking out not at Mick Townsend but at Robbie Anderson. Golden-haired, golden-eyed, those incredible cheekbones, that lithe body. Not a teenager anymore, but he didn’t look much older, either.
“Rob?” DJ said hoarsely. He sounded dazed, all posturing gone. He sounded like a child. “It can’t be.”
“It is,” Mick said. “For tonight, anyway. Just like old times,” he added, looking across the throne circle at DJ. He glanced around at the room, the thrones, the whole setup from Otherworld. “Just exactly like old times.” To Barrie his voice sounded dangerous, uninterpretable.
“All the