Even teen evil queens need love. Right? (Or at least a handsome sword-fighting minion to do their bidding!)
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Bad things happen when Rowen is around and the worst part is, she has no idea why until a massive family secret sends her on a fantastica...
"Growing up in Coffin Ridge, the preeminent graveyard town of America, meant cemeteries were no big deal. They were like steel factories in Pittsburg or car assembly plants in Detroit. The parents of half the kids in my school worked in the death industry.
But in almost every story, the cemeteries are places of perpetual night. Where the dead refuse to stay put. Where Death lingers behind every headstone. Where the evil go to be forgotten."—Rowen Keckilpenny-Brown
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I scooped up my familiar, his once bright beady eyes now frozen. My hand shook as I looked into his stony gaze. I could feel the mirror next to me celebrating its victory. And it wasn't done. It wanted me.
Well, tough! The mirror was out of luck.
"Look deep into my depths," the mirror crooned. Of course, it could talk. Everything talked in Brittlebane—door knockers, mirrors, animals, trees. It was actually weirder when something didn't speak. Like, how come my scrambled eggs never wished me a good morning? "Come on, witch! Don't you want to see who you truly are?"
As if!
"It was only a rat. A disease-infested pest."
I balled my fists and growled. Fury boiled inside me. My magic simmered and buzzed. And without Vermeil to calm me down, I was definitely going to be blowing something up. And I was going to enjoy it. "Never!" I said. "Put him back the way he was."
"No can do!" the mirror said.
"Oh, but you can. And you will!"
The surface of the mirror rippled like water disturbed by a pebble. "Don't feel like it."
"Do you feel like having my foot shatter you?"
"I'm unbreakable."
"Are you sure? Do you want to risk it?"
"I think I do. By the way, it's rude not to look at mirrors when you're addressing them."
"You know what's rude? Turning innocent rats into stone."
"Not my fault."
"Well, I know it wasn't his fault. He's good. But I'm not! You will never again turn anyone to stone!"
I lifted my leg, preparing to slam it into the mirror when an invisible force took hold of my leg and tossed me to the ground.
Pain exploded in my side. I lay there, breathing hard, trying to get my bearings. "Why did you do that?" I accused the mirror.
"I did nothing. Blame her."
"Who?"
"Behind you."
I rolled over, (carefully!), and there was Tyra. All shimmery and pink and flowy, arms crossed over her chest. "Tyra!"
"Congratulations on finding the Mirror of Reflection and not being turned to stone," she said. "We've been trying to get hold of it for ages, but you're the first quester who succeeded." She pointed at the creepy, lifelike statues littering the chamber. "This mirror is really going to come in handy with the upcoming gnome wars. My garden needs more statuary."
