Unblemished

by Sara Ella

  Cobwebs dangle from every corner. The unswept floorboards creak. Overturned furniture creates a maze, the path obscured by shredded cushions and broken bottles. Crooked picture frames hang at odd angles, like arrows pointing this way or that.

  “Place looks deserted to me.” Ky steps lightly, his boots crushing glass.

  Never one for haunted houses, I stick close to his side. Creepy doesn’t even begin to describe the eeriness of this place. “Let’s search the house.” Why am I whispering? No one’s here. “Maybe we’ll find something.”

  Ky snorts. “Yeah, like a dead body maybe?”

  I slap his arm. “Not funny.”

  The floor plan is nearly identical to our house in New York, with only a few minor adjustments. A table where the open kitchen bar should be. A wood-burning stove instead of a fireplace in the sunroom. The wall separating the sunroom from the stairs and foyer is at least three times as thick as the one back home. In the hall, wallpaper and wainscoting replace brick, and the stairs are spiral instead of a straight shot to the upper floors. We meander through the house, each room filthier and more disheveled than the next.

  When we reach the attic, I pause on the final step.

  Ky keeps moving, seemingly unaware of my momentary hesitation. But then he stops. Turns around. Shines the flashlight in my face. “Everything okay?”

  I shield my eyes and he repositions the beam lower. “Back home, this floor houses my mom’s studio. It’s just a little weird, that’s all.” Two deep breaths, a cough follows. Man, this place is musty. I will my feet to move and join Ky in a room crowded with old knickknacks and random antiques. A shadeless lamp. Rolled rugs. Shelves with rows and rows of snow globes, which should really be renamed dust globes for all the dirt settled on them.

  We split apart, exploring the space like a couple of Goonies on a treasure hunt. I clutch my pack tight against my shoulder, cover a couple more allergy-induced coughs. I can hear Ky somewhere at the other end of the room, moving furniture and riffling through what sound like pots and pans.

  When I reach the corner where Mom’s art desk would be, I pause. A boarded window sits beyond the vacant space, an empty flowerpot resting on its sill. Beside the window is a tall object with an old sheet draped over it. I reach and the sheet floats to the floor, sending dust airborne in wafting clouds. I wave it away with my hand, blink a few times, and lift the collar of my jacket over my mouth and nose.

  The object is a human-sized painting set in a gilded frame. Wait, no. Is that—?

  My pulse is dead to me. I do a 360.

  An elderly man wearing spectacles and a ratty bathrobe towers over me. His bulbous nose protrudes as if detached from his face, and his wiry alabaster hair sticks up at electrocuted angles.

  I back away, nearly knocking over the mirror.

  “Well, are you coming in or aren’t you?” The British-accented man pivots and shuffles away. He pauses before a cushionless armchair acting as a bookshelf. Bending over, he lifts the chair to reveal a square hole in the floor.

  Without pretense he steps into the hole and disappears into darkness.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  It Can’t Be

  Let me just say, following strange old dudes through holes in the floor is not my thing. Kids, don’t try this at home.

  Ky scrambles to my side, tripping over the corner of a half-rolled rug. “Was that him?”

  I shine the flashlight into the opening. “Guess we’ll find out.”

  We tread lightly down a narrow stairway, Ky in front and me behind. The steps are unfinished, the boards warped. Bent nails and splinters stick out like booby traps. At the bottom an ajar door waits, soft light leaking through its cracks. Ky places a finger to his lips, gestures for me to stay.

  He approaches the door and peers inside.

  I rise on my toes, leaning over his shoulder to get a better view.

  On the other side is a narrow room with a high ceiling, a meager fire crackling in a mini hearth. After prodding blackened logs with an iron pole, the man occupies a damask armchair. “Well, what are you two lollygaggers standing around for? Either sit or don’t, but do not be all evening about it, please.”

  I mouth, “Lollygaggers?” and Ky responds with a half smirk, half shrug.

  “Where are we supposed to sit?” The man inhabits the only piece of furniture in the cramped space.

  He shifts in his seat, eyes me over his half-moons. “You are your mother’s daughter. Elizabeth had just as much tactlessness at your age. If the floor is not good enough for your royal rear ends, I suppose I could relinquish my chair.”

  My mother? He knows me? He must be Nathaniel. I move deeper into the room and sit cross-legged on a circular rug at his feet. Ky remains standing, holding up the wall behind me.

  Nathaniel faces the fire again, and his shoulders slump. “What brings you to my door at this hour?” His voice is winter and fog, hibernating beneath years of solitude.

  “We’re here because of this.” I retrieve the loose-leaf paper from Mom’s book, pass it to my grandfather. I have so many questions for this man. About my father. About Mom. But none of those are important right now. “I was hoping you could explain how the Threshold thing works.”

  Orange embers spit onto the rug. Nathaniel stomps them out with a slippered foot and snatches the paper, examines it over the bridge of his nose. “Where did you get this?”

  I produce Mom’s account of The Reflection Chronicles.

  He leans forward, the fire’s radiance washing his wrinkled face in ginger light. “I can tell you one thing. That book and this entry were not penned by the same author.”

  I was right. He can help me. “Who’s E. G. A?”

  He removes an antique pocket watch from his robe. The heirloom is tarnished, in need of a good shine. He flips it open and rotates it toward me. One side contains a clock face, frozen where it last ticked. But the other half bears a silver dollar–sized photo of a cinnamon-haired beauty with a constellation of freckles and passionate blue eyes. And there, winding up the right side of her face in crimson tendrils, is what we have affectionately dubbed the mirrormark.

  Aidan’s queen. Has to be. Robyn said she had a mark like mine, one that linked her to the king as I am linked to him. Was she a Mirror as well? If so, what happened to her? The theory says only one Mirror can exist at a time.

  Nathaniel snaps the watch closed, returns it to his robe, pats the spot where it rests. Bracing a hand on his knee, he cranes his neck. “I would know Queen Ember’s handwriting anywhere.”

  “Queen Ember?”

  Nathaniel reveals he has the ability to smile. “Your mother felt she needed a pseudonym if she was to hide from her father.” A pause. “And yours.”

  I feel Ky’s presence behind me. Please don’t bring up Tiernan. Not here. Not now. Change the subject.

  “So . . . ,” Nathaniel continues, “Elizabeth donned dear Ember’s first name as her last in hopes it would conceal her true identity.”

  I swallow, relief sliding to my core. “You speak as if you knew her personally.”

  He removes his glasses, then blows a hot breath on each lens. “Indeed. She was my student before she was ever my queen.” He wipes the lenses with a corner of his robe. “After they moved from England to the States, my parents turned their home in New York into a boardinghouse of sorts.” His spectacles return to their perch. “By then I was already grown and living in the Second with my wife and two boys.”

  Tiernan and Makai. My family history is coming together, shard by broken shard. Another peek at Ky. All Nathaniel has to do is say his sons’ names, and then Ky will connect the dots. Please don’t say their names, please—

  “I’m getting ahead of myself. How I came to be here is a story for another time. Where was I?” Nathaniel taps his temple. “Ah yes. My parents. Originally from the Second, they sustained a deep reverence for the Verity and the Callings. When Ember came into their home, she was fourteen. No parents, no family to speak of.
She even adopted our surname, Archer. Ember worked for them in exchange for room and board. I visited the Third often and got to know her. She had a sharp wit and a keen sense of intuition. No use lying to the girl. She would call you on it every time.” He laughs at that, as if reliving a private memory.

  A ghost of a smile haunts my lips. Despite the circumstances, I feel as if I’m getting a sense of who my grandfather is. Serious, yes. But also someone who cares for those closest to him. Maybe when this is all over, we might have a relationship. Family has always been singular to me—Mom. Perhaps it has the chance to be more.

  “My parents and I taught Ember of the Reflections, the Callings,” Nathaniel continues. “Rather than scoff at them or call them insane, she welcomed the knowledge. At sixteen she drank Threshold water, but a Calling never manifested. Still, she was eager to learn everything she could about the worlds beyond her own. Ember was twenty-five when my parents passed. It was the first time I brought her into the Second—the day I introduced her to Aidan.”

  A love story? My stomach flutters. I’m the sick kid from The Princess Bride. In the past I would’ve groaned at the mention of romance, knowing all too well it wasn’t in my future. But now? Now I don’t mind so much.

  “Aidan had only just become the Verity’s vessel,” Nathaniel explains. “He was thirty and busied himself with matters of the Reflection—keeping the Void imprisoned his top priority. But when Aidan saw Ember, I knew something in him had changed.” Is that a twinkle in his gray eyes? “When they kissed and Ember’s mark appeared, I began my research. As I’m sure you may have guessed, there was little information regarding such a mark. The vessel preceding Aidan never found true love. There was, however, an account recording the stipulations of a Kiss of Infinity.”

  “E. G. A.’s—Ember’s reference to Dimitri Gérard’s account of The Reflection Chronicles.” I twirl my shoelace around one finger, twisting until my circulation cuts off.

  “The very same.” He coughs but doesn’t bother to cover his mouth.

  So this is where Joshua learned everything—the source he mentioned. Nathaniel taught him about the kisses, the mirrormark, all of it. Except I still don’t understand what would motivate Joshua to conceal my gift from me. It makes no sense.

  I wish he were here so I could ask him. Is he okay? Did he make it out of the Haven unseen? And what about the others? For the first time I realize I’m worried about more than just Mom and me. I do want the vessel to succeed in defeating Jasyn and the Void. Then my friends can stop hiding. Then the Second will be free.

  “Yes.” Nathaniel coughs, drawing me from my internal epiphany. Leaning forward, he folds his hands between his knees. “We soon developed the ‘Mirror Theory’ as is recorded on this page.” He raises it to the light. “I must say, I thought you would have sought me sooner. After Ember passed, I tore this entry from her diary, stowed it in your mother’s book. I thought it might help her prepare you for the path ahead. Of course, she wanted nothing to do with it, left the tome here and never looked back.”

  I switch positions, tuck my legs and feet beneath me. “So you gave it to Joshua?”

  “He was your Guardian, was he not? I presumed if your mother refused to help you hone your gift, perhaps Joshua would. Unfortunately, he, too, was of the mind-set it would be better for you to remain ignorant. I doubt he even opened the blasted thing.” Nathaniel harrumphs and crosses his legs. “Why I bother, I do not know. No one listens to an old man.”

  Lies. Too many to count. Joshua is one thing, but Mom?

  “I’m sorry. I was wrong. I never should have kept—”

  I hear her apology as if she’s already given it. Kept what, Mom? The fact that my soul is the only thing detaining the savior of this Reflection from doing his job? Or how about the colossal detail I have this special gift, one I could’ve used to rescue you, had I actually known about it?

  I retrieve Ember’s theory from Nathaniel, resolve lifting me to my feet. No more hiding. No more fear. “Well, I’m listening. So how about you fill me in on how I can use that mirror up there as a Threshold?” I plant my hands on my hips. Enough wasting time. Enough wandering around, waiting for someone to dictate my next move.

  Fingers steepled and gaze regarding the fire, Nathaniel says, “To understand the purpose of a Mirror, you must first understand the function of each Calling. Shields to defend. Physics to restore. Scribs to teach. Masks to serve. Magnets to provide. Amulets to keep. Evers to save.” He taps out the list on his fingers.

  Evers to save. Even though I know Robyn is gone, I can’t help but hold a candle of hope Joshua was able to save her. She didn’t deserve to die.

  “What then is the purpose of one who possesses all the Callings?” My grandfather gestures to me, like a professor singling out an unsuspecting student.

  Um . . . Mouth agape, I let my hands fall to my sides.

  “I will pose another question. When did you begin to notice signs of the talents you possess? You have borne the mark since infancy, yet only now are seeking answers.”

  I bite my lip, consider his insight. When did I begin to notice a change? Shutting my eyes, I run the events of the past few weeks over in my mind. Mom’s fabricated death. Joshua’s rejection. My lashes flutter as I glance up at Ky. “When you followed me the night we met. I never thought I was capable of defending myself like that.”

  Ky crosses his ankles. “You definitely threw me off guard.”

  Wince. I shrink inwardly. “Sorry.”

  “There were other things too.” Ky paces behind me. “I paralyzed you with my Shield Calling, but the effect wore off within minutes. You survived Haman’s gift much longer than I anticipated. And the Illusoden. It didn’t last. Then there was your display on the beach. It’s as if you carry fragments, pieces of each gift that grow stronger each day.” His tone smiles and sprints, his face becoming more animated with each word. “I’ll bet when you turn eighteen and your Confine lifts, you’ll be unstoppable.”

  Except I won’t. Because my link will break on my birthday. Then this amazing gift I’ve only just discovered will be gone.

  Nathaniel considers him. “What did you say your name was, boy?”

  “I didn’t.”

  I roll my eyes. “Ky. His name is Ky.”

  “Not much of a name,” Nathaniel muses, adjusting his spectacles. “Short for something, perhaps?”

  What is the point of this? I jut my chin at Ky, waiting for him to give Nathaniel the answer he wants so we can move on.

  But Ky, with his arrogant smirk and popped brow, is getting a rise out of flustering someone, as usual.

  I fling my arms toward the ceiling. “Ugh. His name is Kyaphus Rhyen. Can we continue, please?”

  Nathaniel nods, seemingly satisfied with my answer. “The Verity feeds off your innermost strengths, just as the Void feeds off your weaknesses. Your desires mold your powers, so you must ask yourself—what do you crave most in the seven Reflections?”

  I fold the paper once, twice, pressing the creases with my thumbnail and sliding the square between the pages of The Reflection Chronicles. My go-to answer is always Mom. I want her back. But it must delve deeper, right? Ky’s story kisses my memory. How his Shield Calling stemmed from his need to protect others. What do I want? What have I always wanted?

  It can’t be so simple. Can it?

  “Love.” The single word is a confession. I’ve refused to admit it, tried my hardest to suppress it. But there it is, plain as the notes on my face.

  “That,” Nathaniel says, “is the right answer.”

  My grandfather traces the mirror’s carved frame. “I cannot tell you everything about the unique Calling you’ve been given, Eliyana. But somewhere deep inside you, distinctive aspects of each Calling reside. You must wait, see how they unfold.”

  Ky moves beside me, the attic floorboards groaning beneath him. He’s been so silent. Patient. I could never repay him for his kindness.

  “One day,” Nathaniel says, �
�while still living in the Third, Ember wanted to see Aidan. They were engaged, but she had not yet moved from my parents’ home. By then she had been given the mark and was only beginning to learn of its indications. It was her love for Aidan that made him appear in her reflection. That day, Ember stepped through the mirror.”

  Whoa. A real-life Alice in Wonderland.

  “After they married, the castle became her home, but she still missed her old one terribly. The king would have done anything to make her happy, so he had a replica built, a whole row of them. He thought it would be more authentic. As you saw upon entering, mine is the only one left standing.”

  We have more than our Calling in common. Queen Ember caught homesickness too.

  “They spent summers here. Ember loved this house.” Nathaniel’s mouth turns down. “This is where she died.”

  My heart hurts for him. His pain has been my own. “How?”

  “Natural causes.” He sighs, doesn’t elaborate. “A part of Aidan died that day as well. He couldn’t bear to be in a house where every nook and cranny reminded him of her. He left me in charge of it, along with her estate in the Third.” Is this why the king vanished? Because he loved his queen so? “The home belonging to my parents. The one I assume you were raised in?” His eyebrow quirks.

  I nod. So Mom had been telling the truth on that note. My grandfather really did leave us the brownstone.

  He inclines his head in return. “This has been my home ever since. After the Revolution, the other residents burned their homes to the ground and fled, erasing all evidence of their former lives. Only I remained, but I couldn’t very well stay out in the open with Crowe sniffing around for more people to add to his Soulless collection. Joshua and Makai have seen to it I am provided for. The hidden room has been my personal sanctuary for many years.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the Haven with everyone else?” Ky asks.

  Nathaniel eyes him. “I have my reasons. Which bring us back to the mirrors.” He beckons me closer. “This is ordinary-looking glass to me, to your friend, but to you it is a gateway. As a Mirror, just like Ember, you have the ability to pass through any reflective surface and enter through another by merely thinking of it. Love empowers you. However, you will only be able to bring one person back with you. As you appear to have a new Guardian”—he inclines his head toward Ky—“is it safe to assume your previous Guardians are otherwise occupied?”