Unblemished

by Sara Ella

  He’s kidding. “I’m sure you have better things to do right now than teach me how to play guitar.” Please say you don’t.

  He makes a face, as if seriously contemplating the concept. “Nope. Can’t think of anything.” Joshua reclines on the swing. He rests his guitar on one knee and strums with his thumb. “The song you were singing was really depressing.”

  Shrug.

  “I’ve got a better one if you’re up for it.”

  “Okay.” I join him, noting our proximity once again.

  He still isn’t running, still is looking at me as if I’m no different from anyone else.

  Joshua starts strumming, singing “Daydream Believer” better than any Monkee ever could. His tanned fingers pick the strings in fluid repetition. I survey him. The way he rocks in sync with the rhythm. How the corner of his mouth twitches between lyrics.

  Moments ago my chest was torn and hemorrhaging. But now—now I’m the girl in the song my new neighbor sings.

  “Your turn.” He passes me the guitar and proceeds to place my fingers where they belong, officially making him the first boy who’s ever touched me.

  My heart capers. Cheer up, indeed.

  Every seemingly random event from my life replays on my mind’s silver screen. Each one scrambles, falls in order, the plot finally making sense. Cut a scene here and splice it in there and voilà—a coherent mystery flick. And I’m the star.

  Stop. Rewind. Play.

  The next-door neighbor I never saw. Code name: Joshua’s “professor.” A.k.a. Makai.

  Fast-forward. Pause.

  Joshua moves in. Seems odd he has nothing better to do than spend time with me. Mom hates him too. Until she doesn’t.

  Skip, two, three.

  Mom’s upset. Her picture is in the paper. She’s acting panicked, not like herself.

  New frame. Freeze.

  Quinn sits beside me on the first day of senior year. She wants to hang out, despite what it would do to her social status.

  Next scene. Hold it right there.

  Mom “dies.” I go to Joshua for comfort. He’s distant. Almost mean. But he doesn’t stay that way. I can’t keep track of his emotions. He’s warm one minute and glacial the next.

  Blinking away the memories, I zoom in on the new members of our gathering. The guard on the left of Joshua, stout and bearded, is unmistakably Preacher. Odd to see him minus the scowl. On the right, bald and dark-skinned, is Kuna. His infectious smile vanquished, the frown painful to look upon. Both men have lost the light and color from their eyes, replaced by the swirling fog of the Soulless. Every inch of exposed flesh reveals midnight veins, twisting and winding and reaching.

  But nothing, not Preacher’s missing glower or Kuna’s absent joy, strikes my core as much as the sight of the pale man between them. He’s shirtless, a wide bandage encompassing his torso, the black Guardian tattoo peeking from beneath. Fresh, still-bleeding cuts mar his forehead, his cheeks, his neck, his arms. Even so, he remains himself, eyes blue as ever. Bruises and road rash–like burns splotch his skin, but it’s still his skin—not a charred vein in sight.

  Joshua gazes at me with a fierceness that starts an earthquake in my bones. He struggles against his captors. They release him, and he staggers forward.

  I scramble up the steps. We fall to our knees. We’re the only two people in the room. “Joshua,” I whisper. “What have they done to you?”

  He shakes his head, wincing at the minor movement. “I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I should’ve told you.” He hangs his head. Closes his eyes.

  His brokenness might kill me.

  “Do you wish to tell her now?” Jasyn’s cello-deep voice intrudes. “Or shall I?”

  Joshua’s jaw works. He opens his eyes but doesn’t meet mine. “I’ll do it.”

  I brace myself.

  “Twenty-one years ago, my parents died. Their names were Aidan David Henry and Ember Gabrielle Archer.”

  Joshua David.

  “They were older, and I’m told there were complications with the pregnancy. My father wanted my mother at peace. The less stress she endured, the better chances the birth would come without difficulties. So he sent her away from the public eye, away from the responsibilities that come with being queen. He was an Ever but never took his Calling for granted. Mother would live with a Physic, a man my parents knew and trusted, where she would finish out her term and give birth.”

  “Nathaniel.” Natural causes, he’d said. Ember’s death . . . oh no.

  He nods. “No one knew she was pregnant aside from my father, Nathaniel, and his two sons.” Makai and Tiernan. “All were sworn to secrecy, sealed with a Kiss of Accord. My father covered every base. He wanted nothing interfering with my birth.”

  “He said he was going to die anyway. He was raving mad.”

  My father did this. He broke his vow. “When Tiernan told Jasyn about Mom, he also mentioned Ember’s pregnancy.” If my father wasn’t already dead, I might kill him myself.

  “Well done, granddaughter,” Jasyn says. “As I have said, I am unable to get around a Kiss of Accord. But if the promise is broken of one’s own free will, that is a different matter. Tiernan wanted to die. The Void had become too much for him.”

  I refuse to acknowledge my grandfather’s presence. These may be my final moments with Joshua. I’m not going to waste them.

  Combing stained fingers through my hair, Joshua continues, “I already told you my mother died in childbirth. But what you don’t know is her death was directly linked to my father’s.”

  “Of course it was.” I smooth my thumbs over his stubble. He doesn’t stop me. This is the first time I’ve touched him like this. It may also be the last. “Aidan was the vessel and Ember was his love. The Kiss of Infinity bound them, heart and soul.”

  Joshua shakes his head. Gathers my hands in his. “No. Aidan was an Ever, like me. Only one thing can kill an Ever.” Our interlaced fingers rest in the crevice between our knees.

  I watch his thumbs stroke my skin. Back and forth. Back and forth. “I don’t understand.”

  He draws a labored breath, slumped shoulders quaking. I can almost see the peak of a tattoo behind his shoulder. The mark of an Ever? “Aidan passed the same night Ember did—the night I was born. The Kiss of Infinity connected them. When Ember died, Aidan’s life should’ve replaced hers. Then his Ever blood would’ve generated new life within him, saving him too.”

  I intake a sharp breath. “Jasyn didn’t save me. You did. The link created by the Kiss of Infinity—it’s how he discovered you’re an Ever. Your life replaced mine. Then your blood brought you back.”

  Joshua nods.

  Jasyn titters.

  Must he stand so close? “But if Aidan was an Ever, too, how did Ember die? How did they both die?”

  Joshua’s hands clench in mine. “Death is not easily explained. When it comes for you, when it’s your time, there’s nothing that can deter it from taking a life. If not yours, then someone else’s. Death is the only Threshold into the First Reflection.”

  “Death is a Calling all its own.”

  “My mother died giving birth to me. When my father saw she’d passed, that not even he could bring her back, he didn’t last long. His heart broke, and he died too.”

  Nathaniel was wrong. A part of Aidan didn’t die that night. All of him did. Ember’s death was his poison. He was a true Romeo. “For never was a story of more woe . . .”

  “El,” Joshua says. “The only thing that can kill an Ever is—”

  “A broken heart.” Jasyn pops our bubble, circling us like an incessant reprise. His voice boomerangs the space around us back to real time. “Touching story, I must say.” He pulls us apart, forcing me to stand, to face him. “Have you solved the puzzle yet, dear granddaughter?”

  I wrench away, my eyes wide. “Aidan was the Verity’s vessel. Only death can release the Verity. It finds the purest heart.” My gaze rests on Joshua. “You.”

  His eyes close. Head
bobs.

  Everyone is staring at us. Ebony with eyes gleaming and arms crossed. Kuna and Preacher with their nowhere-stare. Haman and Jasyn, two rotten apples fallen from the same tree.

  And Ky. Ky who has finally brought himself to match my gaze. Ky who, in this moment, I can’t bring myself to see.

  I turn away, angling my body just enough so I can pretend he isn’t here. “My mom went to Nathaniel when she fled. Nathaniel raised you. We didn’t meet in my backyard the autumn I turned fifteen. We’ve met before.”

  Joshua gives another nod, so discreet I almost don’t catch it.

  I press my palm to my right cheek. “You gave me this mark.”

  “A Kiss of Infinity comes from the deepest part of your soul.”

  “You bound your soul—your life—to mine.”

  “When bestowed by the Verity’s vessel, a Kiss of Infinity imposes an unusual outcome upon the subject’s soul.”

  “You made me a Mirror.”

  “El,” he interjects.

  But I can’t stop the realizations spilling from my brain and forming words on my lips. No time to breathe. No time to do anything but say, “Except you’re an Ever, so even if I die while we’re linked, you won’t. Because you know I’ll survive, which will keep your heart from breaking. Because my life is yours. Because—” Oh. My. Soul. Do I dare say it? “Because you love me.”

  His Adam’s apple dips. He looks petrified. Limited to the next words that release from his mouth. “El, please. Don’t.”

  But he doesn’t have to say it. Because I know. The world stops. Colors fade to gray, then burst back to life, more vibrant and beautiful than before. This is the best and worst feeling I’ve ever had. And there is no song fitting for this moment, there are no lyrics to describe my myriad emotions.

  Because Joshua loves me.

  And this love will destroy him.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Of Us

  The truth smashes into me like a thousand falling stars, igniting my core, punching crater after crater into my already damaged heart.

  How can I survive the impact?

  “You were never going to come forward, were you?” Lies. Lies. Lies. “You were never going to stand against Jasyn and the Void.”

  “It isn’t like that.” Joshua struggles to stand, arm supporting his middle. “Nathaniel spent his life preparing me for this—my destiny. I always knew one day I’d have to capture the Void, imprison it. But I always felt a pull toward . . . something. I would feel sad for no reason, get excited over nothing.” One step toward me. Two. “He finally confessed about my connection with you, and worse, what that connection meant.”

  Worse?

  “I knew I had to find you, had to see for myself this person I’d always known but couldn’t remember. The person who would help me save the people.” He’s directly in front of me now, eyes searching. “It was three years ago last September.” Hands cupping my face, he exhales, “The day I met you was the day I found the piece of my soul that had always been missing.”

  Every glance. Every night out and afternoon in. All the plays and musicals, baseball games and museum trips. Every song and lyric and note and chord.

  It was all for me.

  My lips part. “You told Makai you wanted this to be over.” Breath catches. “You said—”

  “I do want this to be over. I’ve fought my feelings for you because our ending is your beginning. When our bond breaks on your eighteenth birthday, I can only hope my love for you will vanish as well. That somehow the link is the only reason I feel so close to you.” He traces my right cheek. “My love for you can’t be real. I won’t allow it.”

  I press my face into his palm. He smells like dirt and rust. “Why not?”

  “Because if I truly love you, even with the link gone, you will become a slave.” Our noses are an eighth note apart. “But if I don’t, you will be free to go. Saving this Reflection is my burden. I don’t want it to be yours too.”

  Sob. Blink. “You’re not making sense.” I swipe at my nose. “I still don’t understand why you won’t recapture the Void.” Swallow. “Take the throne from Crowe.” Lick the salt from my chapped lips. “He’s right here.” I fling my arm toward my grandfather. “You should fulfill your destiny now.”

  “Don’t you understand? I can’t! Not until you turn eighteen and our bond breaks. It’s the best chance you have. It’s why I couldn’t let you kiss me the night of your mom’s disappearance. The risk was too great you’d complete the link, binding us forever.” His desperate tenor echoes around the throne room. Rattling the windows. Climbing the stairs and sliding down the banisters. Extending to the painted domed ceiling.

  I back away, nearly bumping into Ebony. She responds with an annoyed click of her traitorous tongue.

  “And if you do love me after my birthday, link or no link? What then?”

  Joshua catches my hand. “You don’t need to worry about that. I won’t let my heart get in the way. I can control it. I will control it.” He’s clutching my hand so tightly it stings almost as much as his words.

  “And here is the twist in our tale. Do you mind? This is my favorite part.” Jasyn steps between us, coming so close I can almost feel the wickedness emanating from his soul. “As you can see, the Verity’s vessel is limited, love his greatest weakness. My theory is he does truly love you, but only time will tell.” My grandfather tsks. “The Void can be imprisoned, oh yes. I have been its prison for quite some time, in fact.”

  Of course he has. I stare out one of the arched windows to the forever night beyond. Why didn’t I see it? The Void’s prison isn’t a place. It’s a person.

  “I felt it when Aidan died. Sensed his passing in the deepest part of my charred soul. The Verity’s vessel alone is able to imprison the Void. And with each new vessel, a new prison must be created—the one the vessel cares for more than any other.”

  I don’t respond. I have no words.

  “For the person closest to the Verity’s vessel is also kind and good, another pure soul nearly equal to the vessel himself.” Jasyn circles me now, my head spinning with each one of his egotistical steps. “It is meant as a fail-safe, you see. Such a soul is strong enough to fight against the Void within. With the help of the vessel who captured it, the Void can be controlled for quite some time. It is the sacrifice the Verity’s vessel must make in order to maintain the delicate balance between good and evil.”

  And there’s the hook. The true reason Joshua hopes his love for me is merely an illusion created by our childhood bond. The thing Mom’s been keeping from me. The tidbit she worried Jasyn had figured out.

  I am the one who will be the people’s savior.

  The Void’s new prison is me.

  “The Verity and the Void must always have living vessels,” Jasyn says. “It is the only way the Verity can subdue the Void, contain it.” Jasyn descends the dais, hands clasped behind him. He steps on Makai’s hand at the bottom. My uncle doesn’t move or react, too injured to get up and fight, but not so much he’d give Jasyn the pleasure of seeing his pain.

  Thank the Verity Mom’s not here. If she saw him like this it would kill her. It’s killing me.

  Jasyn rounds on Ky. Pauses behind him. Rests a hand on his neck. Ky is taller but their ranking is clear. Jasyn is in charge here.

  Terror chills my face and ears. Discos before my eyes. This is why I can’t leave. The reason it’s not as simple as snatching the dropped blade and cakewalking it out of here. Because I’d have to choose who to take with me. My uncle. Joshua. Ky.

  “But the Void isn’t contained.” I move toward them. “The Soulless. The Threshold. Shadow Territory. If you are the Void’s prison, how do those things exist?”

  Jasyn’s fingers squeeze Ky’s neck ever so slightly. I can almost feel the pressure against my own skin. My grandfather slips his hand into his blazer pocket, brandishes a syringe.

  “They injected me with something, sent it directly into my bloodstream.”


  My own blood curdles at the memory of Ky’s words.

  “That is because . . .” The silver needle glints as Jasyn showcases it by Ky’s left ear. “. . . I am accountable to no one. Aidan imprisoned the Void inside my soul. I was the one closest to him long before he met Ember. I felt it when he died, when I no longer had the Void’s captor to control my actions. No Verity’s vessel to help quell the darkness within.” Jasyn removes his jacket. Loosens his tie and slips it over his head. Next comes his shirt, button by button. He folds the trio in half, laying one over the other. “I began to forget why I had allowed myself to become Aidan’s servant in the first place. The more my humanity slipped away, the more I hungered for what Aidan never allowed me to have—power.”

  As if knowing what’s expected of her, my half sister parades down the stairs and gathers Jasyn’s unwanted layers.

  I cross my arms. Assistant indeed. Does Meryl Streep know about her? Ebony brings new meaning to the phrase The Devil Wears Prada.

  “It was quite the burden, really,” Jasyn continues. “Battling the Void as it insisted on taking over my soul. So I discovered a way to expel it. To remain in control of myself while building an army. The Threshold was one thing, but not as quick as I would have preferred. Veins travel to the heart. With a mere injection I had a ready-made Soulless. Someone I could command and manipulate with a mere thought.” He inserts the needle into his arm. Draws the plunger out slowly. Purposefully.

  Unbidden nausea rises.

  Blood does not fill the syringe’s barrel. Instead a murky, smoke-like substance occupies the empty space. “I lay in wait, expecting the new vessel of the Verity to challenge me. But alas, he never came.” A cutting glare toward Joshua.

  I compel myself to keep my gaze trained on Ky. He does the same with me. His puckered brow and wild eyes issue a warning. Stop. Don’t come any closer.

  “And so.” Jasyn levels the syringe with Ky’s shoulder, needle pointed directly at his taut neck. “I win. If my theory is indeed correct, and Aidan’s pathetic son loves you even after your bond breaks, I have no reason to fear. He will not kill me and release the Void, allowing it to latch onto your soul. It is the reason he waits for your birthday. If he captured the Void now, it would enter you but remain dormant until the protection on your soul lifts next week.” His syringe hand remains rock steady. Ky remains frozen. “Waiting, at the very least, offers the miniscule chance you will not be the one the Void enters.”