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 be 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.
“You’re a Mirror. You’re stronger than she is.” I hear him, clear as day, just like all the other times.
Charley’s so close I can smell her stale dog-breath. She crouches. Growls.
I have only seconds. No space to think or breathe. I look to Ky and something expands deep within.
I’m a Mirror. Every Calling will manifest itself. I just have to draw it out.
My center warms as if ignited. The Verity? I haven’t felt it since the coronation. The sensation of calm overcoming me now is like hearing a classical masterpiece for the first time. I latch onto it for fear its music will end. What brought it back to life?
Ky’s face takes over my mind.
No, not what. Who?
At first I try to push Ky away, replace him with Joshua’s image. But when I do, the warmth grows cold. So I let Ky in. He shoves and presses, and I let him stay. Something in me releases and my feet lift off the ground. There’s the sensation of shrinking, like I’m folding in on myself. Throat constricts. Stomach tightens. My eyes snap open. The world has gone dark. I’m suffocating. A heaviness surrounds me and I heave, move, wiggle to break free of this black cage.
And then I do. I feel so light, like for the first time I’m free of a weight that has been holding me back my entire life. I glance down. My clothes lie in a heap several feet below, and I have the sudden urge to cover myself. But then I see their faces. Streak’s broad grin, his shoulders shaking with a chuckle. Charley, returned to her human form, beaming. The rest of the crew’s expressions are sprinkled with mixtures of awe and shock, and some even look impressed. And Ky, trying to hide it but unable to withhold the slightest smirk for my sake. What are they all staring at?
I’m moving farther and farther away, carried by my arms or the slight breeze in the ocean air, I can’t tell. It’s crisper here. Clearer. I’m over the water and my stomach drops, but my body remains airborne. And then I see it. My reflection. But I’m not me, not the me I’ve always known anyway. Instead I’m the Mask within, the one I didn’t truly believe existed until this moment.
For eighteen years I’ve only ever felt like a caterpillar, trapped in this awkward, clumsy body with a hideous mark on my face. But now . . . now I see what I was meant to be all along.
A butterfly.