Chapter 2 The Hollow Town

Felix stared at the note in his hand. **"Don't trust mirrors."** It was scrawled in red ink - not blood, not lipstick, just ink. But that didn't make it feel less ominous. The backstage hallway of the Duskhaven Community Theater was now filled with anxious murmurs, snapping cameras, and uniformed officers politely but firmly asking everyone to *"please remain calm."* Calm was a scarce resource tonight. Detective Miranda Hess moved like a scalpel through the chaos. Sharp suit. Sharper eyes.

Mid-40s, no-nonsense, a mouth permanently set to "mild disappointment." "Name?" she asked as Felix approached. "Felix Wade. I used to live here. I know Veronica." She didn't write anything down. "You were in the audience?" "Yes. Row C, seat four. I saw her vanish." He hesitated. "There was no trapdoor. No wires. I write comics, I know stage tricks. That wasn't one." "You're a magician?" "No, but I dated one in college. And I've drawn enough dramatic disappearances to know what they're *supposed* to look like. This wasn't right." Her brow twitched. "What do you mean, 'not right'?" He debated telling her about the mirror. About the wrong reflection. The note. The whisper. But something in her eyes said she wouldn't believe it - or worse, *would,* and immediately call someone with a padded van. So he just said, "It felt... off." "Your relationship with Miss Vale?" Felix faltered. "We were close. Once. Haven't seen her in over a decade." Detective Hess finally wrote something down. "You're not on the guest list for her wedding." "That's because I wasn't invited." That, apparently, was the wrong answer. Her pen paused. "But you're here anyway." "It's complicated." She snapped her notebook shut. "Everything in Duskhaven is." --- The next morning, Felix woke up with a headache and the unpleasant sensation that someone had been rearranging his dreams while he slept. Madam Elira had left breakfast in the hallway: lavender tea, lemon scones, and a note written in calligraphy: **"Avoid reflective surfaces. If your reflection smiles before you do, leave the house immediately."** He stared at it while chewing. By the time he reached *Bean There, Conjured That*, the town was already buzzing. "Vanishing Vixen!" declared the headline of the local paper. "Bride-to-Be Pulls Houdini Act - Or Something Worse?" Gus slid him a black coffee and leaned on the counter. "They're calling it a publicity stunt." Felix shook his head. "That wasn't an act." "Yeah. Thought so." Gus glanced around. "Wanna see something weird?" "Always." --- In the storage room behind the café - past crates of expired pumpkin spice syrup and a framed photo of Gus shaking hands with a man labeled *'Time Traveler (Alleged)'* - sat a bulletin board covered in red string, pins, and yellowed newspaper clippings. Gus pointed to one headline near the center. **"Actress Vanishes During School Play – 1978"** Another: **"Teen Magician Disappears During Talent Show – 1994"** "They all happened here," Gus said. "Same theater. Roughly twenty-year intervals. All during *performances.*" Felix studied the articles. "You're telling me Duskhaven has a history of stage-based disappearances?" "Yup." "And nobody's noticed?" "This is Maine. If it ain't lobster or ghosts, people don't pay attention." Felix ran a hand through his hair. "What about the mirror?" Gus perked up. "Oho! Knew you saw something." Felix explained what he'd seen - the odd reflection, the figure in the glass, the note. Gus didn't even blink. "That's the Hollow Guest." "Come again?" Gus pointed to an old journal pinned to the wall. "Local legend. It's a sort of... copycat spirit. Doesn't kill you. Just *becomes* you. Replaces you so slowly no one notices. But it can only pass through mirrors. And only takes people during emotionally heightened moments. Love. Rage. Performance." Felix blinked. "That sounds insane." "Yeah, but so does avocado toast, and here we are." Felix turned to the wall again, eyeing the oldest clipping: **"Mirror Madness - Mental Patient Claims Doppelgänger Tried to Replace Her" (1902).** "This is real to you?" "Everything's real until proven boring." --- Felix left the café with a swirling mix of dread, caffeine, and something he hadn't felt in years: purpose. He walked toward the old Vale estate. It had been abandoned for decades - a sprawling gothic shell overlooking the cliffs. Veronica's family had once been wealthy, powerful... and deeply private. The kind of people who donated to museums but wouldn't let their kids trick-or-treat. The gates were rusted shut, but the side fence had collapsed. He entered carefully. Inside, the house was a time capsule of neglect: dust-coated furniture, moth-eaten drapes, chandeliers full of spiderwebs. But the piano in the parlor had been cleaned. Used recently. And in the study, someone had been typing. He found a sheet of paper still in the old typewriter: > "The mirror does not show who we are. It shows who we *believe* ourselves to be. And sometimes... it believes back." Felix shivered. He pocketed the page. That's when he heard it. Footsteps. Behind him. He turned - just in time to see someone duck out of the room. He gave chase. Through the dusty halls, up the creaking stairs, past portraits that seemed to *shift* as he moved. The figure turned a corner. He followed - heart hammering. They vanished at the end of the hallway. No doors. Just a mirror. He approached. It showed the hallway behind him. But in the reflection... The figure was still there. Standing beside *him.* Felix spun - but again, the hallway was empty. He backed away, breath quickening. And then - in the mirror - *his own reflection smiled.* But Felix hadn't. Not even close. He ran. --- Later, back at the guesthouse, Gus found him nursing a whiskey on the porch, staring at the woods. "Let me guess," Gus said. "Reflection's being a jerk?" "It *smiled* at me, Gus. I didn't smile. I was *terrified.*" "That's Step Three of the Guest's approach. Step One: Mirror flickers. Step Two: You hear whispers. Step Three: The smile. Step Four-" "Let me guess. You become soup." "Worse. You become *someone else's soup.*" Felix laughed, despite the chill in his gut. "Do you believe all of this?" he asked. Gus considered it. "I believe something is wrong in this town. And I believe you're the only one who isn't pretending it's all just a quirky wedding prank." Felix looked out at the mist. "Then we'd better find out what really happened to Veronica." Gus nodded solemnly. "And we'll need weapons." "Weapons?" "Salt. Mirrors. Garlic. Probably a flashlight." "Garlic's for vampires." "Better safe than soup."