The Auction

The elderly auctioneer pointed his gavel at the attentive audience, scanning their faces for any sign of a twitch or a nod. ‘2500 once – 2500 twice – Sold to the gentle man at the back!’

Ben heaved a sigh and smiled. He’d got them. The two Gothic mirrors were his. Ben held the first mirror at arms’ length, admiring the carved wooden serpents adorning the ebony frame. The mirrors had belonged to Sir Cedric Fortescue – a prominent Satanist with a scandalous reputation in the 18th century.

He held the other mirror out, rubbing his thumb across the tactile serpent’s head. That’s strange, he thought. He checked the back of the mirror and looked into the mirror again. There was no reflection.

Suddenly, the air chilled. The walls of the auction house melted away, replaced by an ominous landscape of crooked stone crosses and violated headstones. Ben gaped in alarm at the dark reflection rippling across the mirror’s surface. Fiery eyes flamed from the demon’s face. Clawed hands grabbed Ben’s head and dragged him into the mirror.

The stout porter wheezed to pick the mirror up. ‘Get the other mirror, Bill. Someone’s left them again. We’ll put them into next month’s auction.’