The me in the mirror was standing right behind David, and she was crying. Of course, the me not in the mirror was crying now, too, because I’d seen what was in the other me’s hand.

A knife.

Not any knife, but a dagger, the blade shiny and bright, the hilt intricately carved. Somehow I knew that this was a ceremonial dagger, something special.

Something only used on one occasion.

I watched golden light spill from David’s fingertips, his eyes, his mouth. I watched the me in the mirror step closer to him, one hand going to his hair, the hair that he always tugged and pulled when he was nervous.

The Harper in the mirror was tugging his hair now, too, but only to pull his head back.

The blade caught the light, almost sparkling and looking strangely beautiful.

It came to rest under David’s chin, and I looked at myself in the mirror, feeling a jolt as the other Harper’s gaze met mine. Her eyes were bloodshot and wet, but her expression was firm as she watched me.

“Choose,” she said and, with one quick jerk of her arm, drew the dagger across David’s throat.

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

JUST LIKE that first night, the door to Alexander’s house swung open the second I was on the porch, and I walked right in, making my way down the hall and toward his office.

Alexander sat behind his desk, a steaming cup at his elbow, a huge book spread out in front of him. Music was playing in the background, something soft and vaguely sad on piano that I thought might be Chopin. Even though it was past eight o’clock, and he was the only one here, Alexander was wearing another one of those beautiful gray suits, his tie cinched in a tight Windsor knot at his throat.

He glanced up when I came in but didn’t seem particularly surprised to see me. “Ah, Miss Price.” Gesturing to the teapot at the edge of his desk, he raised his golden eyebrows. “I’m assuming the latest stage of the Peirasmos went well, then. Tea?”

“He’ll die, won’t he?” I asked, and Alexander blinked once. Twice. Then, sitting back in his chair, he laced his fingers over his chest. The ring he wore on his pinky glimmered in the lamplight.

“Everyone dies, Miss Price,” he said mildly. “I know American schools are said to be woefully lacking, but it seems this is a fact you would have learned at some point in your educational career.”

I was seriously not in the mood for this tonight, so I folded my arms and glared at him.

Finally, with a sigh, Alexander sat back up, the chair creaking slightly. “It’s true that Oracles seem to have a short shelf life.”