Banished: Book 1 of The Grimm Laws Read Free Page A

laugh bubbled up in her throat. It was ridiculous getting this worked up over her own reflection. She turned away from the mirror, but the laugh stopped her cold. The reflection had laughed at her. She’d laughed once, and the reflection had laughed back. Ever so slowly, she turned to the mirror, dreading what she would see. There she was—pale face, hollow eyes staring back, reflecting the fear that had returned with a vengeance. “Who are you?” she whispered. The reflection remained unchanged. She touched the mirror, half-expecting her finger to poke through it. It was solid and cold. She let out a sigh. She was starting to have serious doubts about her sanity. A cold sweat beaded across her forehead. A simple fall had thrown her into a coma. Her memory was completely gone. Was she also losing her mind? She arose from the dressing chair, backed away from the mirror, and sat down on the bed. She focused on her breathing, averting her gaze from the dreaded mirror, but the pull was too great. Her eyes went to the milky white, antique-finished mirror that was attached to the dressing table. Her gaze then went to the matching chair that was upholstered in a striped pattern of various shades of pink. She studied the dressing table and mirror objectively, glad to have something other than herself on which to focus her attention. The graceful curves, etched in gold paint, were outlandishly formal in comparison to the walnut bed with its straight, hard lines. It would’ve been more fitting in a mansion rather than a teenage girl’s bedroom. She looked up to where a jeweled chandelier hung. At least the dresser and chandelier matched, although the chandelier was also too ornate for a bedroom. Her gaze went to the hot-pink, overstuffed chair with the bold black roses. A purple and pink pillow dripping in orange fringe was the crowning touch. And then there were the pale pink walls. Wow! It was obvious that her taste in decor was a little off before the accident.
    The door burst open. Josselyn bounded in and plopped down on the bed beside her. Her singsong voice floated through the air. “Elle, what are you doing? Why are you just sitting here on the bed like an imbecile, wringing your hands? I know you’re supposedly recovering, but this head injury thing is getting to be a real drag.”
    Elle looked down at her hands. She gave her stepsister a weak smile. “I’m just trying to figure out if I should wear my hair up or down tonight.” It took effort to keep her voice light. It took effort to pretend to be the self-absorbed, airy, socialite she’d apparently been before the accident.
    Josselyn smirked. “Now that sounds like the Elle I know. Yes, what could be more important than your hair? You are, after all, the junior homecoming attendant. Of course everyone will be gawking at you.” She motioned with her hand and wrinkled her nose. “Although, I must say. You’ve got some work to do if you’re expecting to transform that into your usual perfect self. Are those sweatpants?”
    “And what’s wrong with sweatpants?”
    “You haven’t worn sweatpants since you were nine. You really are losing it. Mom said you were, but I didn’t believe her …” her eyes raked over Elle “… until now.”
    Blood rushed to Elle’s face. “Oh, I didn’t realize. I just wanted to be comfortable. I’m going to take a nap and I—”
    “Enough already! Who are you, and what have you done with my stepsister? The old Elle would never stoop to apologies.”
    “Oh.” Every time she opened her mouth, everything seemed to come out wrong. How could she be so different now from the person she was before?
    Josselyn cocked her head, causing her corkscrew curls to bounce. “Okay, let’s see the hair.”
    Elle swept up her long tresses and held them with her hands. “What do you think?”
    “Up,” she said decidedly.
    “Okay, up it is.”
    Josselyn rose from the bed and went over to the dress that was draped over the chair. She