Ruelle's eyes darted from the old vampiress to the door she had locked before starting the spell. Behind her, the faint vibration continued, rising from the mirror like a held breath, its surface still trembling in slow, concentric ripples, waiting to complete the last step in the summoning.
"I always suspected Mira to be a witch," Lady Sylvan said, and her voice carried the particular fondness of a woman recalling a favourite pet, "but she never revealed it. Do you know I asked her several times about the Belladonna mirror? Several times, over years, in the course of ordinary conversation. And every time, she said she had no understanding of it. I treated her so well. So well. Just like my own daughter. I even nudged my son to court her, hoping she would one day marry him, but he proved to be useless."
