Nora Roberts The Mirror Audiobook Novels & Stories

When she finally turned, it was with a quiet elegance that made even the walls seem to lean in. Her eyes met Miriam’s, calm but deadly. “Oh, maybe,” Norah replied, her voice soft and even. It didn’t rise. It didn’t shake. But it carried weight. “You might be coming around here a thousand times. But look, girl…” She leaned in just slightly, her lips curling, her eyes glowing, “I was recognized immediately I stepped in. And by now you should have known who recognised me” she said with a giggle almost making it sound like a mockery.

The short shotgun went into the holdall with shells to match. The idols fought them the way locks resist being lifted. Gallus dragged seaward even through plastic. Ghast thinned the air to breathlessness. Abnegazar added weight where it shouldn’t exist. Rathos fogged the lids with heat. The golden coral rattled as Gabe’s sleeve brushed it, rolled a few inches, and stopped with a soft metal sigh—a harmless sea-curio in a room that had run out of harmless. Latches bit. Straps cinched. Another tremor stroked the house. The long mirror over the sideboard rippled once—reflection half a heartbeat late—and went flat. On the cupboard, Nick and Rachel kept smiling, frame angled a hair further toward

It makes me want to lean on him. After a couple minutes, the tiny passage suddenly widens into a room that is just as dark. My free hand grazes something that feels like the surface of a mirror. It’s not fixed in place, and as I run my fingers over it, it moves—and for a moment, there is a flash of light. “What the hell was that?” Robert exclaims. My hand drops from the back of his shirt, and I rotate the mirror. Out of nowhere, when I hold it at a certain angle, the room suddenly lights up, and I have to squint.

“You’ve always been terrible at it.” I force the words through clenched teeth. “You’re losing control of it, aren’t you? The rules are unraveling around her.” Nyxara’s laughter is quiet, dangerous. “Control is such a mortal obsession. You think I need to control what I already am?” “She broke your mirror.” Her eyes glitter. “Did she?” “She shouldn’t have been able to.” “Perhaps,” she says softly, “but I find it…entertaining.” I take another step toward her. “What did you see in the room, Nyxara? What was that thing in the glass? What was she fighting?”

My eyes dart around the room, searching for answers. That’s when I see it—a mirror on the far wall. My breath quickens as I take a shaky step toward it, ignoring the murmurs behind me. The Grand Luna says something, her voice soft and worried, but I can’t make out the words. “Nora?” Damon’s voice calls again, closer this time, but I don’t stop. I reach the mirror, and the world tilts on its axis. The reflection staring back at me isn’t mine. The face is familiar… But it’s not my face.

Later that night, as darkness enveloped the Mirabella Estate, Autumn found herself transfixed by her reflection in the antique mirror hanging in her room. The glass fogged gently around the edges, but her reflection remained clear and sharp, an eerie contrast. Just as the image began to wane, it revealed a chilling sight—a smile, wide and inexplicable, unfurled across her mirrored self.

A broken typewriter sat on the desk beside a cracked mirror. Lucas grabbed a flashlight. “We’ll stay here till morning. She can’t reach us without power lines or signals.” Natasha didn’t reply. She was staring at the mirror, her own reflection staring back, trembling, drenched, terrified. But then… her reflection blinked twice. Out of sync. Natasha froze. “Lucas…” He turned, shining the light toward her. “What is it?” The reflection smiled, a cruel, knowing smile, before the mirror shattered into a web of cracks.

Yet, as Elara would soon discover, that void was about to be filled in a way she had never expected. Later that evening, as Elara was closing up the gallery, the familiar sound of footsteps approached from behind. She turned to see Miriam, one of her most devoted patrons, walking in with a soft smile. Miriam had been a constant presence in Elara’s life for the past few years. She was an older woman, in her mid-sixties, with a kind face and a warmth that radiated from her like sunshine. Elara had always admired her for her wisdom and the gentle way she seemed to navigate the world. Miriam had become more than just a patron—she had become a friend.

The door was shut, no one was there, so WHO-- The bright colors of paint seemed to glow in the dark, and Ben found himself staring directly at the vanity. The yellow and bleak shadows of his garage, reflected back at him from the mirror like an eerie memoire of his world. The little hearts drawn on the glass, little comfort when his focus zeroed in even further on the mirror. Yellow lights, the sway of shadows. And Ben watched in horror as the lights melded into a firm set of bright gold eyes. Slits, the pupils, staring directly at him as Ben froze in place.

I pulled the cord and began to climb the ladder. Once I made it to the attic, I began shining the light through the room, but I still didn't see anything. Walking through, I felt something touch the bottom of my foot; it was glass. Why was there glass? I looked up to see a mirror that used to be in my room; I remember it like it was yesterday. Mom and Dad took it out when I was little because I woke up from nightmares; I was six, talking about gruesome things that a six-year-old girl shouldn't know about. I shoved that memory aside and looked back at the mirror then started to leave, but I saw something, a glimpse of something "Hello?" I breathed; my chest was beginning to hurt. I heard the