corner when a voice that seemed to come out of nowhere said softly, “Eve. That’s not the way out.”
Eve stopped in her tracks. “Garth? Is that you?”
“Eve,” the voice said again, so faintly Eve could barely hear it, “you’re going the wrong way. But then, it really doesn’t matter, does it?”
Glancing around for any sign of another human being and finding nothing but her own reflection staring back at her, Eve pressed her back against the mirrored wall. The glass felt cold. “Who’s there? Who is that?”
“It doesn’t matter that you’re going the wrong way.” The words were soft, as if encased in silk. “Because you’re never going to get out of here.” A low giggle. “Not alive, anyway.”
Eve’s jaw dropped. The lights overhead, bouncing off the mirrored walls, hurt her eyes. “What … what are you talking about? Where are you?”
“Oh, Eve,” in a regretful, almost sad voice, “don’t get upset. I hate to see you wasting your energy looking for a way out. There isn’t one. Not for you.”
Eve’s head swung from side to side, her eyes searching, seeking, finding nothing, no physical form to attach to the disembodied whisper, nothing to reveal the location of her tormentor. She was still very much alone in the corridor, but twenty-four images of herself stared back at her as if to say, You’ll get no help from us. “This isn’t funny!” she cried. “What do you want? Why can’t you tell me the way out?”
The voice, although still low and hard to hear, sharpened slightly. “I told you, there isn’t one. Not for you, Eve. Not ever.”
Suddenly, there was a sharp cracking sound and the end mirror on the wall opposite Eve, the one farthest from her, exploded in a shower of glass.
Eve gasped, one hand flying up to cover her mouth.
A second later, the mirror next to the first one exploded, then the third one, as if an invisible vandal were marching up the aisle toward Eve, tossing large, heavy objects into the glass panels opposite her. The worn, wooden floor was already littered with large and small fragments of glass, and where the mirrors had been only seconds before, gray-brown boards stared out at Eve.
Eve’s eyes took in the mess with horror. Navigating through it in her black flats would be dangerous.
A fourth mirror, no more than a few feet from Eve, shattered. A thick shard of glass narrowly missed her left arm.
There were only six mirrors left on that side of the wall. The last one was directly opposite Eve.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, and turned and ran, in the only direction open to her. She ran straight toward the carpet of glass.
Behind her, the voice called softly, “Oh, didn’t I make myself clear? Running from me is a total waste of time.”
Chapter 6
L OOK AT HER RUN! Feet in those flimsy little shoes flying over the broken glass. Should have worn sneakers, the little twit. Glass’ll slice right through those thin soles easy as slicing cheese. So proper, so perfect, so responsible, but too dumb to wear sneakers in a place full of glass.
Okay, so it wasn’t full of glass when she came in. But anything can happen in a house full of mirrors, right? Someone could have been watching when they put this building up and someone could then find a way into the passageways behind the panels and smack the mirrors good and hard from the back with, say, a big, fat hammer, so the glass explodes all over the place. That could happen.
She should have known that could happen. Always making lists, I’ve seen her. Should have put this on her list of Things That Can Happen.
Well, she knows it now.
Too late.
There she goes, running again. Yelling for help at the top of her lungs. Lot of good that’ll do her. I’m certainly not helping her. Why should I?
She took from me the best chance I had to show off my power to everyone. If I were heading this committee, the way I should have been, the way I would be if things were fair, I could have used my power to