Evergreen Heights, 2:03 a.m.
The building looked like it had given up on being tall and settled for being haunted instead.
Elias stepped out of the unmarked van, hood up, goggles already on. The chalk stick rolled between his fingers like a cigarette he wasn't allowed to smoke.
Police tape flapped in the hallway wind. Two uniforms stood guard outside 404, both pretending they weren't pale.
"Special Consultant," Elias said, flashing a badge that technically belonged to a government agency that technically didn't exist.
The cops stepped aside faster than dignity usually allowed.
Inside the apartment, everything was too normal.
Cheap furniture, half-eaten takeout, a TV stuck on a dead channel hissing white noise. The kind of place people disappear from without anyone noticing for days.
Except the bathroom door was open.
And the mirror above the sink was missing.
Elias walked in.
The bathroom wall still had the four screw holes where the mirror used to hang.
But the mirror itself was now propped neatly against the bathtub, facing the door. Waiting.
Its surface looked wet, though nothing in the room was dripping.
From inside the glass came three soft knocks.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Elias didn't answer.
He knelt, drew a perfect chalk circle on the cracked tiles, big enough to stand in. Then he wrote a single word along the inside edge in flowing script:
**Liar**
The knocking stopped.
A shape moved behind the glass. Tall. Too many joints. It wore Elias's face, but the smile was wider than bone should allow.
The thing in the mirror spoke with his own voice, just half a second delayed.
"Hello, Elias. You're early."
"I'm never early," Elias said. "I'm exactly when I need to be."
The reflection tilted its head. "Come closer. I want to see what you really look like when no one's watching."
Elias reached into his coat and pulled out a Polaroid camera (old model, no digital parts, no soul for anything to steal).
He aimed it at the mirror.
Click. Flash.
The photo slid out.
In the picture: the bathroom was empty except for the mirror.
Inside the mirror stood Elias, both eyes wide open, mouth screaming silently.
Real Elias looked down at the photo, then back up.
The thing wearing his face was no longer smiling.
"You weren't supposed to bring a witness," it whispered.
"I'm not your witness," Elias said. "I'm your replacement."
He stepped into the chalk circle.
The mirror rippled like water. The reflection lunged, fingers stretching impossibly through the glass, reaching for his throat.
Elias didn't blink.
He raised the Polaroid again and took a second picture (this time of himself).
Click. Flash.
The photo developed in his hand.
In it: Elias was smiling. The reflection behind him was gone.
The mirror cracked from corner to corner with a sound like ice breaking on a frozen lake.
Black liquid oozed from the fracture, pooling on the floor, trying to crawl toward the chalk line.
Elias crouched, touched the chalk with one finger, and spoke a single sentence in a language that predated names.
The circle flared white.
The black liquid screamed in a hundred stolen voices and evaporated.
Silence.
The mirror was just a mirror again, spider-webbed and harmless.
Elias peeled the second Polaroid off the camera and stuck it over the biggest crack.
On the photo, his photographed self was still smiling. The tiny version of him winked.
He left it there as a warning.
Back in the hallway, one of the cops finally worked up the nerve to ask:
"Is it… over?"
Elias walked past without stopping.
"No," he said. "It's just learned my name."
His phone buzzed.
New message, no sender:
[Mirror-08 reclassified: Keter]
[New behavior recorded: Identity theft via reflection]
[Next predicted location: Your bedroom mirror]
[Estimated arrival: Tonight]
Elias looked at the time.
2:17 a.m.
He pulled the hood lower and stepped back into the rain.
Somewhere in the city, glass was already starting to sweat.