“Look at the mirror, Casey! Look at the mirror!”

Casey’s breath hitches in her throat. She doesn’t understand. Her feet stay planted on the mat as if glued there by the fear wrapping tight around her chest.

Mrs. Gable turns her head ever so slightly, following the man’s finger. The hallway behind her is dim, the lights off. At the end of it stands an old oval mirror with an ornate gold frame—one Casey had seen before but never thought much about.

Now, the surface of the mirror ripples like water.

Mrs. Gable’s smile falters.

And that’s when Casey sees it.

In the mirror, Mrs. Gable isn’t standing with a kind smile and twinkling eyes. In the reflection, her face is twisted into something monstrous. Her eyes are all black, her grin stretched wide, revealing rows and rows of teeth that do not belong to any human being. The reflection raises a clawed hand, even though Mrs. Gable’s real hands are wrinkled and still.

Casey gasps and stumbles backward off the mat. The man in black grabs her by the shoulders and swings her behind him. “Don’t go in there,” he growls.

“Who are you?” she whispers, trembling.

He doesn’t answer. He stands tall, facing Mrs. Gable, who now no longer looks like a sweet old lady. Her smile is gone, replaced by something much colder. Her eyes are flat. Empty. “Well,” she says, voice lower, different. “You ruined my dinner.”

The man doesn’t move. “You shouldn’t have marked her. She’s a child.”

“She saw me,” Mrs. Gable—or whatever she really is—hisses. “The rules are the rules. She looked too long.”

“I erased the trace. You’re not supposed to be here,” he growls. “This neighborhood is under protection.”

Mrs. Gable steps forward, bare feet suddenly making a sticky sound on the floorboards. Casey sees now that the wood beneath her feet has turned black, pulsing like it’s alive. She grips the man’s coat from behind.

He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a thin silver rod. It glows faintly, casting a blue shimmer across the porch. “Back off,” he says.

Casey stares up at him, wide-eyed. “You’re not a bad guy?”

His eyes flick down at her, softening just for a second. “No, kid. I’m the one who makes sure people like her don’t eat kids like you.”

Mrs. Gable snarls, stepping fully out of the doorway now. The second her bare foot hits the welcome mat, she screams—a piercing, horrible sound like metal scraping bone. Smoke rises from the mat as her foot sizzles.

“Woven in silver,” the man mutters. “You really thought this would be easy.”

With a guttural cry, the creature that once looked like Mrs. Gable launches herself forward, but the man in black moves faster. He presses the glowing rod into her chest. She screams again, smoke pouring from her mouth and eyes. Her skin peels back like paper catching fire.

Casey screams and hides her face, but keeps peeking. She can’t look away.

The creature shrinks, melting down into something small and dark. It sizzles on the mat and then—just like that—it’s gone. A thin black stain is all that remains.

The man exhales, stepping back. “Are you okay?” he asks without turning.

Casey nods, but her voice is gone. She’s shaking.

He kneels so they’re eye level. His dark hair is messy, his face sharp but kind. “You did the right thing. You were smart not to go home.”

Her lip trembles. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“You listened to your instincts. That saved you.” He gives her a crooked smile, and for the first time since seeing him, Casey believes she’s safe.

“Who… who was she?”

He hesitates. “Not who. What. There are things out there that look human but aren’t. Most people can’t see them. You did. That’s why she tried to lure you in. Mirrors are how they trap you.”

Casey’s eyes widen. “But… she was always nice to me.”

“Not really. She was waiting until you were old enough to see.”

Casey shudders.

He stands up and offers her his hand. “Come on. I’ll walk you home. Your dad should be there by now.”

Still trembling, Casey takes his hand. As they step off the porch, she glances back. The house looks normal again. Cozy, even. But now she sees the windows are too dark. Too deep.

“Will she come back?” she asks quietly.

“No. She’s gone. For good.” He sounds certain.

They walk in silence for a moment. Then Casey looks up at him. “What’s your name?”

He pauses. “Let’s just say I’m a Watcher.”

“That’s not a real name,” she says with a frown.

He chuckles. “No. But it’ll do.”

They reach her driveway. Her dad’s car is there now, the porch light glowing warmly. Her dad runs out the second he sees her. “Casey! Oh my God, I was looking all over! Where were you?”

Casey bursts into tears, rushing into his arms. He hugs her tight, looking up at the man in black. “Who—?”

“He found me,” Casey says through hiccups. “He saved me.”

Her dad is confused but grateful. “Thank you. Really. I don’t know what happened, but… thank you.”

The man nods, turns, and starts walking back down the street.

Casey watches him go. Something tells her she’ll never see him again. But then he stops at the corner, turns just enough to meet her eyes, and gives a little salute with two fingers.

Then he vanishes.

Not walks away. Vanishes. Like smoke in the wind.

Casey blinks. Her dad doesn’t notice. She clutches his sleeve. “Dad… we can’t ever go to Mrs. Gable’s house again.”

“Why? What happened?”

She opens her mouth, then closes it. How could she explain?

“I just don’t want to,” she says finally.

Her dad nods, brushing her hair back. “Okay, sweetie. You don’t have to.”

That night, Casey lies in bed with the light on. Her closet door is shut tight. The mirror in her room is turned to face the wall.

She stares at the ceiling. Every creak in the house makes her flinch.

But she knows she’s safe. She saw something terrible—and survived it.

She’s different now. She can feel it. Like something inside her woke up.

She wonders if she’ll ever see the man in black again. Wonders what other things are out there, hiding behind friendly smiles and hallway mirrors.

She drifts off to sleep, dreaming of silver light and monsters melting into shadows.

In the morning, the news reports say Mrs. Gable passed away in her sleep. Natural causes. The neighborhood mourns. Everyone talks about how sweet she was, how kind.

Only Casey knows the truth.

And she never tells.

But every now and then, she glances at reflections—store windows, puddles, the back of a spoon—just in case.

And every time, she listens to her instincts.

Because she knows now: sometimes the monsters don’t hide in the dark.

Sometimes, they wave and smile… from right next door.