Price of Power

"Look at me, child." The voice froze me mid-motion. Santa Muerte's reflection replaced mine in the bathroom mirror, her skeletal face inches from my own.

"I'm not afraid of you." My hand shook, dropping the mascara wand into the sink.

"You should be." Her bony finger pressed against my chest through the glass. "Your borrowed time runs short."

White-hot pain exploded through me. "Stop—"

"Watch," she said. "See what happens to those who steal death's gifts."

Visions slammed into my mind. Women screaming. Bodies twisting. Valentina's power burning them from withinside.

"I don't understand," I panted, holding tight to the sink's edge. "Why show me this now?"

"With every channeling of her power, you feed her hunger." The voice of Santa Muerte echoed within my skull. "The original host is growing stronger."

"I need these powers." You sound like your voice breaks. "Nicolas, the twins—they're in danger."

"Love?" Her sockets seemed to stare into my soul. "Or revenge?"

The mirror exploded, and with a shout, I stumbled backward as my reflection splintered into a thousand pieces, each shard displaying a different face-mine, Valentina's, the women who came before.

"Isabella?" My mother's voice floated through the door. "Cease wasting time. Everyone awaits."

I reached up and touched the bruise forming where Santa Muerte had marked me. "Just fixing my makeup."

"Don't lie to me." Her voice hardened. "I heard voices."

"Talking to myself." The lie came easier each time. "Planning what I'll say to Adrian later."

"Hurry up. Your father hates waiting."

The twins were already at the breakfast table when I arrived, their matching platinum heads bent together, whispering.

"You're late." Mom's reproachful look traveled over me. Her eyes frowned to my neckline. "What happened to your chest?"

"Caught myself with my necklace clasp." The lie tumbled out effortlessly now.

Luis and Maria's heads jerked up in flawless synchrony. In unison they nodded toward the empty chair beside me.

"She's watching you."

My coffee cup detonated in my hand. Scalding liquid blasted across the tablecloth.

"Enough!" My father's voice cracked like a whip. "Both of you, to your rooms."

But I saw it-the flash of fear in his eyes as he looked at the empty chair.

Later, in his private study, my father's words cut deeper than Santa Muerte's touch.

"I have proof." He slid surveillance photos across his desk. Nicolas meeting with federal agents. "Your precious Nicolas is building a case against us all."

"You're lying." But the images didn't lie.

"Marry Adrian. Give him control of the Salvatore territory through you." He pressed play on a recorder. Nicolas's voice filled the room.

"Something's different about her. The way she moves, fights. That's not my wife."

My father's smile was shark-like. "How long before he realizes the truth? That his beloved Valentina is an imposter?"

The anger boiled inside me. The shadows within the room writhed, reacting to my anger. Memories that were never mine crashed through my mind—Valentina finding out about the Ortega family's betrayal decades ago. Her death. Her power.

"You're running out of time, Isabella." My father's voice seemed a distant murmur. "Choose. Nicolas's life, or your revenge?"

The shadows danced around us, lengthening, darkening, becoming hungrier. I glimpsed my face reflected back at me in the window; for a moment, my eyes belonged to Valentina.

I turned at the tap against the window. Adrian balanced on the ledge, those green eyes shining bright within the darkness.

"We need to talk," he said, showing a leather-bound journal. "About what really happened to Dr. Martinez."

My heart stopped. The doctor's research could expose everything.

Adrian's hand shot out and clamped down on my wrist, stopping me from the journal. "You thought I wouldn't catch on? His smile was cruel. "Isabella?"

Movement in the hall saved me. The twins burst in screaming about fire in their room. Adrian's grip loosened just enough.

I fled into the shadows, every step feeding Valentina's consciousness within me. In the abandoned warehouse where I practiced, dozens of mirrors reflected my struggle. Some showed my face. Others showed hers.

"You can't fight it forever." Valentina's voice came from every reflection. "This body remembers who it truly belongs to."

I seized a pen, desperate to warn Nicolas before it was too late. The letter poured out of me-every truth, every lie, every moment stolen in another woman's skin.

But as I signed my name, Valentina surged forward. My hand moved against my will, flames dancing at my fingertips.

The letter burned to ash between my fingers.

In the mirrors, Valentina smiled.