Mary's POV

Midnight is my favorite hour.

The whole house finally shuts up. No footsteps. No Elena’s quiet scurrying down the hall like a mouse that thinks it knows how to hide. No Harry pretending not to notice how cold I have become toward him. The only sound is the grandfather clock in the hall, ticking steadily, patiently, like it is counting down to something I have been waiting for my entire life.

I sit at my vanity, bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp. The mirror gives me back ...