Locked. Of course it is. And drat, he still has the master key set. But I’ve been in Joshua’s castle study before. Which means I can get in again.
Phantom pain sharpens my breath. Never have I dreaded mirror walking more. The shot of Illusoden I took before leaving my suite is starting to kick in, but I doubt its effects will extend to this sort of pain. Good for mortal wounds, yet it’s done nothing to abate the ache in my throat. Which probably means it doesn’t work on ailments related to the Verity and Callings.
A framed mirror hangs ten feet down the hall to my left. This time of night the walkways are deserted. Preacher hasn’t thought to look for me in the most obvious place yet. Or at least I haven’t seen him. My door was unguarded when I slipped out of my suite, and Ebony was long gone, surprise, surprise. With half the Guardians tending to the Threshold and the other half on the hunt for Gage and Isabeau, the castle is pretty empty. I may not have much time, but I have a little.
Here goes a body full of oh man this is going to sting.
The trip through the mirror is even more agonizing than my walk with Ebony. My voice is barely more than a whisper now, and my right arm has begun to go numb. I’ve heard that’s a sign a heart attack is on the horizon. Or is it the left arm? I can never remember. Either way, I’ve already established this must be more than a physical ailment. Each time I attempt to use my Calling, my symptoms grow worse.
When I land face-first on the rug before Joshua’s desk, it takes a full minute of controlled breaths—pants—before I’m able to move. I want to die so much right now. Like literally, I could just lie here and be content to never get up. But I won’t. Because Joshua has been hiding something. And I’m betting somewhere in this office is the answer I seek. Or at least something to lead me there.
Once on my feet I switch on Joshua’s desk lamp. It sheds just enough light to provide a good view of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases on the east wall. I cross to them, pressing a finger to my lips as I squint and scan the titles. Which one—?
Joshua’s desk chair moves, the legs scraping.
Frozen doesn’t even begin to define my statuesque demeanor. Breath on hold, I turn my head.
The chair tips, crashes to the floor. I glance between door and desk, desk and door. Slide sideways. Inch, inch, inching toward the door. Reach, reach, reaching for the knob . . .
Ebony pops her head up over the desktop.
I lower my arm. Roll eyes.
She glowers. “For the love of crowe, you scared the living Void out of me.”
“What are you doing in here, Ebony? How’d you get in?”
She waves her hand like a homecoming queen on parade, then stands and proceeds to pilfer through Joshua’s desk drawers. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how to pick a lock.” When I refuse to answer she stares at me, mouth agape. “Oh my word, you don’t. Wow. That’s lame, El. Not gonna lie.” She opens one drawer, slams the next. Once she’s done she starts on the filing cabinet beside the desk, taking out folders one by one and thumbing through them.
“What are you looking for?”
No response.
“And stop being so loud.” I snatch a folder from her hand. “Preacher’s probably alerted the entire castle we’re missing by now. He’ll have Guardians searching every nook and cranny faster than we can say Dewesti Province.” She’s wasting my time. This was supposed to be a quick in-and-out operation. Leave it to Ebony to fudge up everything.
With the fakest yawn I’ve ever seen, she removes another folder from the cabinet. “(A) What I’m looking for is none of your concern, and (B) if you’re so worried about getting caught, you can leave. You forget I can transform—”
The doorknob rattles.
Double crud.
Ebony and I exchange a glance. Despite her confidence in her Shield ability, there’s no mistaking the dread whitewashing her face. She doesn’t want to get caught any more than I do.
Ha. For once I have the advantage. Sayonara, sister.
Think. The bay window on the room’s other end is where I came in and is my obvious exit. My gut tells me my next mirror walk may be my last for a while. Maybe I shouldn’t go too far, just to be safe. Then again, what do I care if Preacher finds me? I’m the one in charge. What’s he going to do? Tell the queen on me?
Yeah, I’m saving my next trip for something important. I’ll deal with Preacher and whatever other Guardians come through that door. Ebony’s the one who should be nervous, not me.
I came here for a reason and I won’t run before I find what I seek.
Volumes of The Reflection Chronicles span the shelves of Joshua’s bookcase, along with some of his favorite classics from his trome at the Haven. I run my fingers along the textured spines. Some bound in oily leather, others coarse and tied with twine. His collection is incomplete, only containing what was recovered after Jasyn’s defeat. I wish I had time to read and study them all. Maybe I will, but for now I only need one.
I scour for the single volume I’ve heard of besides Mom’s. I’ve no idea if Dimitri Gérard’s account exists among those recovered, but I have to look. He’s the one who discovered the Kiss of Infinity—or he was the first to write about it, at least. How could I forget? Why didn’t I think to look for it when I started my research?
And there it is. I remove the eighth account of The Reflection Chronicles from the shelf and fan the pages. Nothing beats that old-book, been-on-a-shelf-for-years smell. The yellowed pages are covered in elegant calligraphic writing. Each entry is titled and dated. Stuff on the Kisses of Infinity and Accord. A chapter on mirrorglass. A map of the Fourth Reflection, and . . .
Holy Verity, yes! This is what I’ve spent the past two months searching for. It’s been here all the—
The door handle rattles again.
Someone in the hall lets out a muffled shout.
I don’t even waste a glance in that direction. Instead I pop a squat on the floor, criss-cross-applesauce my legs, and begin to read.
Inference of Time by Dimitri Gérard
Hmm. He already sounds like a professor. Must be a Scrib.
Eleventh Day, Fifth Month, Eighth Year of Count VonKemp
Count VonKemp? Not king? I make a mental note to inquire which Reflection is ruled by a count or countess rather than a king or queen.
Time is, indeed, a strange and wondrous thing. It has no beginning or end, it seems. Time goes on, forward and backward, this way and that. But perspective is an illusion, for we know all things begin somewhere . . .
Yes, yes, they do. At last I’m getting some substance.
Someone’s pounding on the door now. It trembles on its hinges.
Whatever. I lower my head and read on.
. . . the humble fact that we are mere mortals does not conclude time is endless. On the contrary, this trivial detail but implies we are merely less than time. Because it goes on without us, and was present before us, we somehow fool ourselves into believing time is equal to infinity. This is simply not the case . . .
Ebony is pacing the room now. Except she’s not Ebony. She’s made a switch into some generic female Guardian or other with red hair, a tight bun, and pursed lips. I’ve seen the woman before, but her name eludes me. Doesn’t matter though. Ebony’s clothes remain the same. She’s not fooling anyone.
I snort before turning the page.
. . . which is why I hold the theory: If time has a beginning and an end, somewhere it meets itself. It is a loop, as all life is. From dust we came and to dust we return. Time is a circle. The beginning is the end, and the end is the beginning . . .
“Okay, you win.” The journal slides through my hands as my thief of a sister confiscates it. “Give it back,” I say in the weakest whisper-voice ever.
“Who’s gonna make me? You?” Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes. “Please, you’re losing your touch, sis. This mission you’re on to find out what’s happening to the Callings and the Thresholds? You can’t go it alone, especially when your own ability is amateur at best. You need help.” She tucks the journal under one arm. “Lucky for you I’m feeling generous.”
She doesn’t know what else I want—to find the Void’s origin and destroy it for good. If I told her, she’d think I’m insane. But the problem at hand takes precedence. First I need to stop and reverse the downward spiral of Calling loss–slash–Threshold drainage. Then I can work on ending the Void.
But Ebony? Generous? No way. Not buying it. “You need help too. Don’t you?”
She curls her lip and makes an “as if” sort of noise.
Oh yeah. She needs me. But why? I stand and we begin the stare-down. The commotion in the hall is impossible to ignore at this point.
“Let’s just go. Please.” She flips a glance over her shoulder. Back at me. Her expression is in full panic mode now, eyes wide, hands shaking.
“Why do you need to get out of here so badly?”
Glare time. What else would I expect? “I don’t.”
I shrug. “Have it your way.” I move to sit back down.
Ebony grabs my shoulders. “I can help you.”
Nice try.
“I can show you how to hone your Calling.”
I blank my face. “My Calling is dying.” I don’t have to say it. My nearly nonexistent voice gives it away.
“Only because you’re letting it. A Calling has to be mastered like any other talent. You can’t just expect using it to be a breeze. Yes, something is wrong. No, the Verity isn’t doing its job. But I can still transform. I have to work harder now, but I’m able to change. I can help you change too.” She eyes me. “I’m betting you haven’t discovered the Mask within yet?”
My pride shrinks. Why am I so easy to read? And how does she know so much about Mirrors?
“Do we have a deal? You get me out of the Second and I’ll help you strengthen your Calling.”
I consider her for all of half a second. Then I nod.
Ebony returns the journal then flings her arm toward me.
I take her hand in my free one, grasp it loosely.
“I promise to help you sharpen your Calling,” she says.
I swallow, say the words I know are required. “I bind you to your vow.”
She leans down and places a kiss on the heel of my palm. “By a kiss I am bound.”
When she straightens I free a breath. My turn. “I promise to take you from the Second.”
“I bind you to your vow.” Her eyes twinkle.
I press my lips to her palm.
My stomach churns.
No turning back now. “By a kiss I am bound.”