My face hits something hard as I fall out from the mirror. There's a sickening crack and blood and bits of teeth fill my mouth, and I almost pass out from shock. I welcome the pain. It reminds me I'm real again.
Dim orange light reveals a row of toilet stalls. Guttural whisperings echo from the mirror.
"You've lost him."
"It doesn't matter."
"He was our best."
"We'll replace him."
I shrink back against the wall, become one with the shadows under the sink. Whatever their words, I know they'll come for me. They always do.
Jethro awoke with a start.