Unraveling

by Sara Ella

  I scratch the back of my head. Exhale. Of course they checked, but they have a full Reflection to cover. The Guardians are running on little sleep, working in harsh weather with only the rations on their backs to sustain them when they’re in the wilderness. Perhaps I need to have a word with Makai about thoroughness. The Amulet Calling remains in full force, it seems. We need to make every effort to do our best as we move forward, and that includes better reconnaissance.

  On the wall’s opposite side, light blinds me and I am forced to shade my eyes until they, once again, adjust. After a few blinks I scan the scene. Hundreds of Mine Fairies bob in the air, their natural light flickering on and off and off and on, making them appear and disappear again. The sight stirs something in the back of my brain, but I ignore it. Just ahead lies a crystal-clear pool and at the pool’s center a maple tree, the leaves in vibrant hues of pink, orange, and green.

  I tread with care, craning my neck. A vertical tunnel above the tree goes on for miles. We must be in the mountain’s core. I’ve heard stories of Fairy Fountains. They’re said to be Thresholds, though I’ve no idea where this one might lead.

  And if the Fairy Fountains are real, what else, or who else, might be?

  I skirt the pool to find Gage standing on the other side. A beautiful woman with white-blonde hair and porcelain skin unties his restraints. She wears an airy gown the shade of onyx. When she turns toward me her pleasant smile does nothing to mask the menacing intent behind her eyes. “Why, Joshua David. I was beginning to wonder if you would ever grace me with your presence.”

  I stop a few paces away, keeping my weapon hand ready. “I have come to make a trade, Isabeau. The life of your servant”—I jerk my chin toward Gage—“for one of your objects.”

  “I’m not her servant. We’re equals.” Gage growls the rebuttal, but the way he stands behind Isabeau, rather than beside her, lets on he’s either inferior or afraid.

  “Hush now, Jonathan.” When she moves it’s like a dance, graceful, yes, but more akin to a tiger on the prowl. “And I’d much rather you refer to them as artifacts, David. Each one took great effort to acquire, you see.” She lifts two fingers, positioning them like a perch.

  “Fine then.” My neck pulses. Enough with the niceties.

  “What is it you seek?” A Fairy flits over and lands on her fingers.

  “A bottle made of mirrorglass.”

  “You get right to the point, don’t you? That is a rare item indeed.” She strokes the Fairy’s wings. The Fairy titters. “As providence would have it, I do possess such an item. However, it comes at a price. Are you willing to pay?” She lifts the Fairy to her lips as if she might kiss it, but instead she snaps her mouth over the Fairy and swallows it whole.

  I try to hide my revulsion. If I wasn’t aware Isabeau is a monster, I most certainly would be now. “What more do you want? I’ve delivered your henchman.”

  “Three gifts.” She dabs the corners of her mouth with the hem of her sleeve. “I have Jonathan returned, yes. This fulfills gift number one. For your second offering, I desire something only you are able to provide.”

  Should’ve known. My hands fist. “How much?”

  “Only a small vial’s worth.”

  “Done.” My Ever blood is useless at the moment anyway, but she doesn’t need to know this. Still, when did my life turn into one of trades and barters? My days are comprised of running from one place to another, extracting information. At least with Nathaniel I wasn’t required to pay a price, and all Rafaj wanted was my truth. But not everyone is so generous.

  Isabeau snaps her fingers, and in an instant Gage exits through a wall of vines behind her. When he returns he brandishes a small syringe.

  Not her servant, my sword. Servant is exactly what he is.

  Teeth and muscles clenched, I offer my arm and he draws my blood. He then injects it into a small bottle, corks it, and shuffles away once more.

  “Excellent.” Isabeau’s eyes sparkle. “Now, for your third and final contribution.”

  I bristle. “I’ve given you your man and my blood.” Not that it will do her much good. “What else could you possibly want?”

  “Only one thing more.” She lifts her dress and dips a toe in the pool.

  This ought to be good. I nod. “Go on.”

  “You will be headed to the Fourth, where my dear old friend Countess Ambrose resides. She has something of mine. Something I would like returned. She will not part with it easily, I am sure, so you will have to steal it.”

  My mouth turns down. Steal? I suppose I’ve proven there is nothing I won’t do for El, and that includes employing unconventional methods. “What is it?”

  “A rose.”

  “You want me to steal . . . ? I am afraid I don’t follow.”

  “A rose,” she repeats. “It is mine and I want it back.”

  I shrug. Can’t be too difficult to acquire, though my gut tells me there’s more to this “rose” than will meet the eye. Still, what’s the harm? “Agreed.”

  “Superb.” She wades into the water, dress pooling around her like black tar. Then she vanishes, just as she did at the coronation, leaving the dress floating in her wake.

  Where did she—?

  “Follow me,” a tinkling voice says.

  I look down. There, tiptoeing on the water before me, is the most beautiful Fairy I’ve ever beheld. She wears a crown laced with jewels, and her wings glow a brilliant shade of red. She dives and I go in after her.

  So this is her third Mask form. This is how she seemed to disappear at the coronation. How the supposedly invisible attackers—her servants, the Mine Fairies—shot at the guests out of sight. No wonder Isabeau expends all her efforts to keep it a secret.

  Isabeau isn’t a Mask, the Calling is simply her cover. A way to deter everyone from knowing her true identity.

  The Fairy Queen.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  A Talent That I Always Have Possessed

  Day three aboard the Seven Seas and I’ve been ill the entire time. Ugh. I’m so sick of puking. Literally. Suck it up, El. Don’t let them see your weakness.

  To get my mind off my stomach, I peruse Dimitri’s account. A bucket waits on standby, hidden behind the crate where I sit. I’m supposed to be on deck swab duty, but I had to sneak away. Ky will cover for me. He knows our mission to end the Void is more important than a clean deck.

  Now where did I leave off? Oh yes. Here.

  First Day, First Month, Tenth Year of Count VonKemp

  I have been at sea for months but have yet to discover what I seek. I once held out hope my faith in true love might be restored, but alas, the voyage may be futile . . .

  I roll my neck. What time is it? I glance out the porthole. Clouds for miles and miles. We’re sailing to the nearest Threshold leading to the Fourth. Ky thinks this Countess Ambrose person retains information vital to our mission. The captain has remained true to his word and hasn’t tried to sway me since he played my song the other night. This doesn’t make much difference though. Turns out Ky just being Ky is enough trouble of its own.

  I chew my thumbnail. Moving on . . .

  I have visited the Second and Third Reflections but have uncovered nothing of consequence. Now I venture through the Fourth on my way to the Fifth. Perhaps it is in the more distant Reflections I will find my gem. I must dive deep if I ever hope to rise . . .

  There it is. That saying. The one etched into the bell. I knew it seemed familiar. Did my Scrib memory pick up on the phrase when I skimmed these pages at first glance?

  I turn the book upside down to save my place and mull over Dimitri’s words. So far I haven’t learned anything new about the Kiss of Infinity. I could skip through his entries, but what good would it do to begin a story in the middle? No, to get the whole picture I have to go in order.

  The steps leading belowdeck creak. I jump up and cross to my hammock, shoving the book beneath my blanket.

  Tide appears at the bottom of the steps.


  I work to slow my breaths.

  He lifts a brow. “Lunch is served. Or are you too good to eat with the rest of us scalawags?”

  His words could be taken as harsh, but they come off more playful. Sarcastic. I’ve only been here a few days, but so far it hasn’t been so bad. Tide’s been friendly enough, as well as a few others. Pirates get a bad rap, but haters gonna hate and all. They’re not so bad once you get to know them.

  “Now you sound like me,” Ky says in my head.

  Yeah, yeah. No need to rub it in. I nod at Tide.

  He salutes me, a smile longer than Long Island on his toasted face, and heads back up the stairs.

  Tide is one of fifteen members of the crew. Actually seventeen if I include myself and Ebony, who’s been working with me to draw out the Mask within. So far, nothing. I’m coming to the conclusion Mask just isn’t part of my repertoire. Our sessions always end with me puking—because of seasickness—and Ebony throwing her hands up with an exaggerated, “Ugh! Why do I even bother?”

  Is it any surprise we’ve never gotten along? We’re as opposite as punk rock and opera.

  But Ebony and my lack of Mask are the least of my worries. Ky filled me in. The crew believes we’re on the hunt for treasure buried deep in the Seventh Reflection, in some legendary garden known as the Garden of Epoch. Because what else do pirates have to do but search for buried treasure?

  Ky’s told everyone I’m a Mirror and a valuable asset to the team. But my Verity-ness? That’s the part we have to keep under wraps, just as Ky’s Void-ness remains hidden.

  He wouldn’t say more, but I didn’t argue. The seriousness hardening his expression was convincing enough.

  Not everyone on the crew can be trusted. Got it. The warning from Mom’s letter meanders back to me.

  “Be chary of whom you place your confidence in.”

  You don’t have to tell me twice. I’ve been betrayed enough I almost expect it. I reach beneath my blanket, close my fingers around Dimitri’s journal—

  “Just as I suspected.”

  I whirl. Look toward the stairwell.

  There stands Ebony in all her scrutinizing glory. She’s wearing clothes identical to Tide’s. How did I miss it? He’s always dressed for the beach. But today he wore jeans and a button-down sweater. Should’ve known it was my deceitful half sister and her impersonating ways.

  “You are so not ready to end the Void. You can’t even recognize when you’re being fooled. Or maybe you just don’t care.”

  Ky shared our plans with her. I was wary to do so, but he felt confident Ebony was better off knowing than not.

  Guess we’ll see.

  She struts over. Grabs my elbow. “The Amulet Calling has faded. Streak is unable to fashion a façade.”

  So Streak is—or was—the Amulet on board. At least we didn’t lose something more vital. As cool as façades are, I’d much rather have a Shield or Mask or Magnet by my side in an emergency.

  Three Callings down, four to go.

  A bout of nausea lurches. I swallow it back. I will not lose my cookies in front of Ebony.

  “Time to work. I’ve come up with a new angle on your training.” The mischief lifting her cheeks does not bode well. “It’s more important now than ever we get your Mask up and running. We’re down an Amulet and the Physic on the ship is useless if someone needs immediate healing.”

  She’s right. Why does she have to be right? Why, of all people, did Ebony have to be the person I need? I can’t deny her strengths. Without her, Preacher would’ve caught us. And the few times we’ve trained since, as depleted as I was afterward, I could almost feel something about to occur. Could today be the day my Mask is set free?

  She drags me toward the stairs leading to the deck. “You wanted my help? You got it. Four of the seven Callings are still functional for now, but they take much more effort than before. You want to be soft, fine. Stay here and rot in your own vomit. But if you actually want to be worth something around here, you’ll stop burying your nose in a book and start acting like the Mirror you are. Matter or don’t. But worthlessness is a choice. You decide.”

  I wrench away and finish the ascent on my own. As I trail her I mouth my inaudible response. Nobody calls me worthless.

  Nobody.

  Who does this guy think he is? Hercules?

  Streak charges me from across the main deck, frizzed dreadlocks flapping against his quarterback shoulders like dozens of dried-out snakeskins. His teeth are bared in a wide grin, yellowed and crooked. The closer he moves, the stronger the stench of alcohol becomes, reminding me this guy has probably had his fair share of bar fights.

  Oh. Snap.

  “A month’s worth of chores on Streak!” Charley hollers through cupped hands.

  Other crew members howl in response, placing bets for or against me. They’ve all paused in their daily duties to see “Captain Warren’s secret weapon” in action. My blood boils, curdles beneath my skin. It takes every ounce of self-control to ignore the guffaws of the crew. To drown out the stares and knee slaps—all at my expense.

  So humiliating.

  What I wouldn’t give to have Mom here, or Stormy. Someone on Team El. A little moral support could do me some good about now. I look to Ebony, who has remained silent. She eyes me. Nods. I can’t tell if she’s encouraging me or if this is some sort of sick game to her as well. This is her new angle? To have Streak use me as tackle practice—?

  “Ooof!” I’m on my backside, pain slicing my tailbone and zipping up my spine. I rub the back of my whiplashed neck, grind my teeth.

  Ebony frowns.

  Streak lifts his arms like a champion. Yeah. As if taking down a girl half his size and weight makes him so awesome. Spare me.

  Charley high-fives the few guys nearest her, smirking as those who lost the bet sulk. I’ve learned none of their names, aside from Tide.

  “Some secret weapon.” Charley sniggers. “But you’re little, so that’s something. We could probably use you as ammo if we run out.” The crew roars their laughter. Satisfaction spreads across Charley’s face as she hops from her perch on a nearby barrel, struts to my side, and holds out her hand.

  I ignore the offer, get up on my own. My palms brace against my knees. I’m so weak. So out of shape. My stomach churns and I clamp my teeth tight. I will not lose my lunch right here for all to see. No way. Not happening.

  Ebony waggles a canteen beneath my nose. “Drink this. It will help.”

  I yank it from her grasp and take a long swig. The water is slightly sweet, tasting of honey. I’m reminded of a moment last autumn. Ky handing me his canteen, the same sweet flavoring inside.

  “I’d be careful who you trust,” he’d said.

  So I keep hearing.

  Wiping my mouth with my arm, I straighten and pass the canteen back to Ebony. Before she steps away she whispers in my ear, “You’re not focusing. Put your heart into it. All or nothing.”

  Would she make up her mind? Is she here to encourage or condescend?

  Charley whisks her auburn hair into a high pony, cinches it. Red wisps border her face like thin flames. “Ready to get whipped?”

  I flex my fingers and then fist them at my sides, my right arm tingling as it has been. The pain seems to be getting worse. Could I have a pinched nerve? Maybe I’d better see the Physic after this session, get some muscle balm or something.

  “Did you hear me?” Charley repeats.

  I offer no response. Keep the opponent in the dark. Don’t let her know my next move. Ebony’s instructions from the past few days replay over and over. It can’t be as difficult as it seems. My song lives inside me. Problem is my heart is torn, my love divided. How can I ignite my Calling when I’m this confused?

  Charley paces away. Stretches both arms over her head, intertwining her fingers and facing her palms skyward.

  Streak exits the training square drawn on the deck with chalk. I’m left to face Charley alone. Great. Why do I get the feeling she’ll b
e the fiercer opponent?

  A cold sweat dampens my hairline. I roll my neck and shoulders, hop from foot to foot like I’ve seen boxers do in movies. Except I’m no Ali or Million Dollar Baby. Why didn’t I bother to attend a single sports event at school? Maybe I could’ve learned a thing or two.

  Charley begins to morph. Unlike Wren, she doesn’t bother stripping before taking on her Mask form. Her crimson hair lengthens, sprouts from her exposed hands and feet. Her face. The wetsuit she wears stretches with her new shape. She pounces onto all fours, her nose lengthening into a snout, her eyes widening and darkening, almost black. The red wolf in Charley’s place snarls, canines bared. She licks her chops, focusing on me—dinner. We’re in the middle of the ocean, and I’m facing a hungry wolf with nowhere to go. Peachy.

  The crew inhales a collective breath.

  My knees shake and I work to steady my breathing.

  She prowls, spittle dripping from what looks almost like a grin.

  I back away. Glance toward Streak. Then over to Ebony.

  Her dark eyes narrow and she gives the slightest nod, as if she’s trying to communicate something.

  My eyes widen in response. Hello, a little help here. Mirror walking with the song inside was one thing, because mirror walking I’ve done. My Amulet wasn’t difficult to master because anyone can imagine a wall. But how do I morph into a Mask when I don’t even know what my Mask is? If I had my voice, I’d command the wolf to her knees. Difficult to do when she. Can’t. Hear. Me.

  Ebony inclines her head toward Charley.

  Charley creeps closer.

  I close my eyes and run Queen Ember’s “Mirror Theory” through my mind. It’s memorized. Permanent. I scan every word and line. Picture them. “Conveys traits relating to . . . the other seven Callings . . . Strengths may manifest all at once, or over time.”

  Can I use the Shield in me to attack? But what match is a kick or a punch for those glistening white teeth? What else? Think!

  And then he’s there. In the corner of my vision. I turn my head just as Ky steps to the railing on the upper deck. His gaze penetrates my nerves, causing them to burst and dissipate.