Spells Trouble (Sisters of Salem #1) - P. C. Cast Page 0,46

breeze blowing down from dusty vents in the ceiling. People had come so far only to imprison themselves.

He leaned over the sink and peered into the small rectangular mirror that hung from the pristine bathroom wall. “Dearborn.” He ran his tongue along his teeth and smiled. “Sheriff Dearborn.”

It was more than convincing. It was a fact.

Pain jabbed his left eye. He clapped his hand over the spikes of heat that blurred his vision and lurched forward. His forehead crashed into the mirror. “Mother—” He stifled a roar and pushed himself away from the reflective glass. Shards rained onto the porcelain as he ran his fingers over the tender knot forming in the center of his forehead. It’d been like this since last night, since the olive tree. Sudden shocks of increasingly devastating pain. It would be over soon. No matter where he was, he could never escape his fate.

Eye still covered, he leaned toward his splintered reflection. He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth and forced his hand away from his eye. He affixed his gaze to the faucet. He didn’t want to look.

“Damn mirrors.” He flinched as he gently patted his swollen eyelid.

He shouldn’t blame the mirrors. It wasn’t their fault they reflected the truth. He should blame that woman. The one who’d made him love her. The one who’d turned him into a monster.

He swept his gaze back up to his reflection. If he couldn’t find a cure this time, he would be like this forever. Threads of milky white swirled across his dark iris. Air hissed between his clenched teeth as he rubbed at his eye, clearing away the gunk. As quickly as the clouds of white vanished, they were back again.

He sighed. There was no use fighting it. He hadn’t escaped the curse. Maybe he never would.

He unhooked his aviators from the collar of his uniform and pushed them up the bridge of his nose. Seeing through the shadows was better than revealing a problem. A difference. People weren’t good with different.

His stomach roiled and saliva flooded his mouth. He was going to be sick. Not from the sight of his disgusting visage. No, this was something else. Something familiar yet out of reach. His stomach seized and a wave of vomit rolled up his throat. Chunks slipped off his tongue and squelched against the empty sink. He stared at the towel dispenser, turned on the faucet, and washed the mess away. He didn’t want to look at it, either.

The bathroom door creaked open and he stepped in front of the broken mirror and the freshly cleaned sink. Deputy Carter rushed in, his hands already unbuckling his belt. “Oh, Sheriff.” He stiffened. “Sorry, I, uh, I didn’t know anyone was in here.” He let out an awkward chuckle, took off his hat, and ran his hand through his flattened hair. “Too much coffee and not enough bathroom visits.” Another bleat of laughter as he shuffled to the nearest urinal.

Dearborn’s lip curled as the deputy turned his back and sighed with relief when his stream hit the porcelain. At their base, they were all animals. Caged animals. The sheriff threw open the door and charged into the bullpen.

Across the open room of desks, a woman waved at him like her arms were on fire. She was the only woman in the building without a uniform, her hair tied back tight and a row of weapons around her hips.

His teeth ground together as she waddled toward him, so eager for connection, for love. But love was weakness, downfall, the beginning of everything evil or bad. He wanted no part of it.

Her name tag glinted in the harsh overhead lighting. Trish. That’s right. If he dug down deep enough, he could uncover the sun-bleached memory of her. But the memories were fading, and fast.

A dimple made a nest in her cheek as she smiled. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. I was worried.” Stickers, sparkling hearts and fat bears framed the capital letters on her name tag. Dearborn squinted and blinked through the haziness blurring his left eye. Maybe they were beavers. All those hairy woodland creatures looked the same. “You haven’t returned any of my calls and I haven’t seen you since last night before…” She clenched and unclenched the notepad and glittery pen between her soft hands. “Well, you know.” A forced grin cracked her bleak, smooth features.

All he could do was wipe the sweat from his brow and nod. He couldn’t