Meredith climbed the stairs slowly, the vortex around her igniting the stairs, climbing up the walls to the ceiling. She’d blocked me off.
“There’s a good Wolfie,” she purred, dark eyes reflecting the firelight. “Now hold still.” She reached out for me with a smoking hand.
My life was burning down around me, but I was not losing to this psycho. I leapt to the top of the railing and launched myself into the upper air of the atrium. I caught one of the hanging lamps, swung, and crashed through the stained glass window by the front door.
I heard the Ender scream in frustration as I hit the gravel in the parking lot, rolling several feet in tiny stones and shards of glass. I groaned - this was way worse than being beaten up by Hyde. I reached out a trembling hand, trying to push myself up. I had to run before she could get out of the building. All that had saved me so far was the fact that being a human volcano hadn’t made her strong or fast.
I started to crawl, adrenaline beginning to mask the pain. I had to find Gabriel. I didn’t know how, but he’d fix this. The cafe crackled and roared behind me, making the parking lot bright. Heat rolled off the building in waves. Everything we had was burning, but we could start over, couldn’t we? He’d always said we’d survive...that I would survive this...
I heard sound of Meredith’s boots crunching in the gravel behind me. I shivered from adrenaline and sweat, on my knees, a tendril of despair curling around my heart. I pushed myself up to my feet and stood to face her on unsteady legs. She brushed debris from her shoulders, looking at me with pitiless eyes.
“You’re brave,” she said. “It’s too bad the Wolf was born in you. I think I would have liked you.”
She reached for me, but then her eyes go wide as I’m pulled back. Gabriel?
Tailor pushed me behind him. Mac and Destin stood on either side of me.
Meredith groaned. “This just goes on and on! How many bodyguards do you have?”
“I’m not a bodyguard, I’m an English teacher,” Tailor said, unrolling a small scroll of paper. Strange symbols were painted in black across its surface. It reminded me of the holy seals I’d seen in Buddhist temples.
“That’s some scary paper, teach,” Meredith said, deadpan. “You know what paper doesn’t do so well against?” She flung out her arm and a fireball flew toward me.
Mac
We jump clear of the fireball, but Meredith’s goal had been to distract us so she could get to Camille.
Tailor throws the rectangle of paper, and it flies with unaccountable rigidity toward the Ender. Meredith is heading for Camille, and I’m the only one close enough to reach her.
“Camille, run!” I shout. I grab Meredith by the arm just as Tailor’s seal hits her across the shoulder.
“Damnit, Mac!” Tailor snaps.
The paper clings to Meredith’s tattooed skin like a wet bandage. In a flash, the seal goes up in flames. Smoke sizzles all the way down her arm and into mine. I bellow at the sharp pain; she curses, releasing me. Her arm hangs limp and she cradles it. The paper’s burned away, but the symbols on it have embedded themselves in her skin over the shoulderblade, twining and repeating in three rings around her right arm, overlaying the red flame pattern. I’m inches from passed out on the ground, smoke rising from my hand.
“Not again!” Meredith howls, rounding on Tailor. “That is it!”
“For God’s sake, Dupree, wake up!” Tailor calls, backing away.
“Huh?” I stir, the searing pain in my hand gradually lessening.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Meredith seethes. “I think I’ll kill you,” she stabs a finger at Tailor, “then the Wolf, and then the munchkin brigade, just to be safe.” A ball of fire materializes in her hand and her lip curls in a malicious grin.
“I wish you wouldn’t kill anybody,” I say groggily, rising with my uninjured hand to my head.
Meredith freezes, eyes wide. The fireball vanishes as quickly as she’d called it into being. She looks at her empty hand in confusion. One of the three rings on her arm is fading.
“Ha!” Tailor exclaims. “Ha! Ha ha ha!” He cackles, almost hysterical. “Mac, you idiot, that was perfect!”
“It was?” I say, then look at my smoking hand and gasp. “What the heck is this?” I poke at the row of three red flames marked into the back of my hand. “Ow!” I recoil from the tender flesh. As I watch, one of the three flame marks ghosts to nothing.
“Minor annoyance,” Meredith says. “Let’s try that again!” She flings her arm towards Tailor, but nothing emerges.
Tailor’s grin is wide. “Trouble performing?”
“I swear this has never happened to me before,” Meredith quips.
“Mac, listen carefully,” Tailor says urgently, “you can’t ever say the words ‘I wish’ ever again. Understand? If you never finish your wishes, she’s stuck like this forever.”
“Wait, wishes?” Meredith and I say in unison.
“You wished for her to not kill anyone,” Tailor says smugly. “So she can’t, until she completes the contract.”
“So...we win?” I say uncertainly.
“Contract?” Meredith exclaims.
“Standard contract between a mortal and an immortal,” Tailor says. “A very complex spell that found its way to me just this evening. I was going to save it for someone else, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“Um, guys...” Destin says, concern in his voice.
“Wait a minute,” Meredith says slowly. “Are you...you’re not saying I’m a...”
“Genie!” I whoop, suddenly comprehending. “You are my very own personal genie!”
“I AM NOT A GENIE,” Meredith roars.
“Where’s the lamp?” I want to know. “Or is it a bottle?”
“It’s a verbal contract,” Tailor corrects, though sounding more than a little pleased with himself. “The bottle’s an exaggeration.”
“You!” Meredith says suddenly, pointing a finger at Tailor again. “You’re one of those - those - thingies!”
“Excuse me?”
“One of those human thingies...ahhh...what are they called...the ones that make everything awful...argh!” She kicks the wall of the cafe in frustration. “This is for real, isn’t it?”
“Very much so,” Tailor says. “No more killing for you. Camille is safe.”
“Um...guys?” Destin says, louder this time, fear in his voice. “I’m not sure about that.”
He was looking at Camille. She’s curled in on herself, arms around her ribs as if holding herself together. Her expression is unfocused and she’s sweating buckets.
Tailor reaches for her and she backs up, one hand out. “Don’t touch me,” she says, breathing heavily.
Meredith makes a rude sound. “There it is.”
Tailor glares at her to shut up. She merely folds her arms and returns the glare with a grin. “I can feel your blood burning, you little freak,” she taunts Camille. “Without that sword, you’re coming apart at the seams. You think this is bad? This is only the beginning. If you cared for these lives at all,” she says, arms wide to indicate me, Destin, and Tailor - “you would beg me to end you. If I could.” Her expression narrows as her gaze flicks to me.
“You’re wrong about her,” Tailor says, but Camille sinks to her knees, curling up.
“Your best boy Gabriel abandoned you, you know that, don’t you?” Meredith tells Camille nastily. “He gave you up to me. He told me the Wolf was at the school, he sent me right to you.”
Hunched on the ground, Camille’s back tightens, her hands fisting in her hair.
“Camille...” I say, approaching her slowly. “Camille, don’t listen to her.”
“She knows I’m right!” Meredith cackles. “You know why he held on to you? He thought he could change you, the old softie, but he was wrong. The Wolf is the enemy, and that doesn’t change. He gave up on you. Then all he had to do was wait for me to show up and finish the job. And even if it’s not me, soon enough, so
meone will...you’re a monster, you’re a bloody monster, and nothing he ever did or said could stop it from taking you over!”
“Uruse,” she mutters from behind her curtain of hair.
“He gave up on you,” Meredith repeats.
“Camille...” I reach for her shoulder.
“YAMEROU!” she screams as she strikes out at me. I fall back, and suddenly she’s standing over me, a feverish yellow gleam making her green eyes unnatural. Her tangled curls spill over her torn, filthy uniform. Her lips pull back slightly from her teeth. For a brief, terrifying moment, I wonder if maybe Meredith is right.
And then Camille is gone, the moon glinting silver off her hair as she disappears into the woods.
Chapter 21
Jul
The pillar rose to dizzying heights. I clung to Rhys as we shot higher. The walls of the Tower seemed to go upwards forever, disappearing in a haze over our heads. I couldn’t bring myself to look down, afraid of what I’d see. Finally the ascent stopped, and Rhys said, “We have to jump.”
I looked up at him then, fingers curled tight in his jacket. “Are you insane?”
“He’s still coming,” Rhys said, face white as he looked down, “and I can’t maintain this much longer. I’m not a real Mirrormaker, Jul, I’m just a hybrid - ”
“You have to get us out of here,” I pleaded. “You’re the only one who can - ”
A high-pitched crack sounded from the glass at our feet and I gasped. There was an open window in the Tower only a small gap away, but the thought of missing that gap was paralyzing. Swallowing my fear, I leapt, clearing the window and tumbling to the floor inside. Rhys looked down at the vines speeding up the pillar after him and jumped as well. A green tendril caught his ankle at the last second and tugged him off balance. His hands caught the window ledge and he cried out as his body slammed into the outer wall of the Tower. I scrambled to my feet and reached to pull him in. The glass pillar was collapsing in jagged hunks, the vines falling with it and pulling taut on Rhys’s ankle. I grabbed one of his arms, anchoring him.
“Go,” he groaned. “Keep going up, I’ll make a ledge or something I can land on - ”
“Crash through, you mean,” I snapped. “I’m not leaving you, now slice that thing free and get in here!”
Eyes lighting in understanding, he reached with his free hand to pull a stone free of the wall. It melted into a jagged glass blade in his hand, and he struck at the vine, severing it, and it fell to the terrace, stories below. I pulled him through the window and he got to his feet, panting. “Good idea,” he said. “Now what on earth is going on?”
“I don’t even know!” I exclaimed, looking around the room in panic. Where had we ended up? “First Gabriel said we were going to save Camille from Meredith, and then he switched bodies or something, and then he started talking about using my powers, about how I was supposed to help him change the world or something...” The reality of what I’d done crashed over me and I pulled at my hair, taking large, unsteady breaths. “I never should have brought him here - you were right, you were right the whole time, oh god, Rhys, I’m so sorry - ”
He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. I wasn’t safe, but at least Rhys wasn’t angry with me. “I shouldn’t have thrown you out,” he said into my hair. “If I hadn’t - if you’d thought I’d help, this never would have happened.”
Reluctantly, I pulled away from him and looked around the room, taking stock of our situation. The room we were in had no doors, and only the one window. There was a large four-post bed in the center, draped with white curtains, and around the walls stood a series of mirrors. Most had the same rose-and-vine silver scrollwork as the one in the orchard, but some were more plain. The sizes varied, too. Some were taller than me, and stood on their own legs; others were hung directly on the wall, shaped in ovals, rectangles, and squares. One was shaped like a starburst, with four long and four short points. One hung empty, a thick obsidian frame with no glass. One lay across the room’s only table, broken pieces laid out as if awaiting reassembly.
I reached out to touch one of the mirrors - wondering if the surface would change, like the one in the orchard - but it merely remained reflective of the room.
Suddenly Rhys cried out, being snapped back against the wall and wrapped in vines. They even twisted over his mouth to silence him. Hemlock climbed into the window, using the vines as handholds. He stepped gracefully to the floor and surveyed the room. “The workshop,” he said appreciatively. “Fiona brought me here once...now there was a talent. If you were Fiona this might be going differently,” he grinned at Rhys, who glared and twisted in his bonds. “Or even Soren. Everyone talks about Soren, but all he did was build on her work. You Ryans and your patriarchy.”
Hemlock took my arm and pulled me with him towards the line of standing mirrors. “One of these should do,” Hemlock said, touching the surface of one briefly. “He’s turned them all off,” he frowned. “He thought of everything, didn’t he? Everything but you.” He gave me a shake. “Turn it back on.”
“I’m not a Mirrormaker, I can’t - ”
“No, you’re a Harbinger,” Hemlock said, his emerald eyes flashing. “And a Null besides. You can - ”
He cried out, falling. The floor had crumbled under his feet and he clutched at the edge of the hole, dangling. I backed away, but another hand gripped my shoulder like a vice. I turned to look up at the man I’d called my father. He held the iron sword in his other hand - so plain a weapon - and his expression was empty.
“Dad,” I said, “What are you - ”
A searing pain through my ribs. A heaviness, a foreign chill. The crack of glass behind me as I knocked back into a mirror. I looked down. The hilt protruded from my chest. My hand came up to touch it, disbelieving. Blood flowed freely from the wound, straight through my heart.
Oh.
Camille
Back across the lawn between the cafe and the school. All the world is smell and sound. I am free, unfettered. As I should be. I dive over hedges and sprint under the trees, faster than the wind. I catch a branch above me and swing, exulting in my power. It snaps and crashes to the ground, and I twist in midair to land deftly on top of it. I grin, but then just as fast the grin is gone. Trees are all well and good, but there is no satisfaction in it. No justice.
I want to hurt someone who deserves it.
I’ve been holding back for so long, trapped under words like calm and temperance and that most hated, most limiting of all words: compassion. I never want to feel sympathy again. I used to be like this all the time, back when I had free run of the streets of Tokyo. Before Gabriel dampened my blood. Why had I run from the cafe? I could go give that so-called ‘Ender’ what was coming to her...
I can feel lightning in my veins, and the only iron I have now is in my fists. I smile at my own metaphor, fingers clenched tightly as I inspect my knuckles. Small hands, to be sure. But that made it all the better. No one would ever expect me. They never did.
I catch a scent on the wind and my head turns. My blood boils fresh as it conjures up images in my mind. Her standing assured and haughty in her ridiculous hair and expensive clothes, the snide little comments at Jul’s expense. The way she sneers at Mac in public. Destin’s heartbeat going erratic whenever she comes near, just to see her ignore him. If they gave a prize for exploitation of love, it would be hers. Justice, incoming. My fingers flex and a grin of pure certainty crosses my face.
I am going to kill Hayley.
I bound across the schoolyard, unencumbered. I don’t care if she hears me. It wouldn’t matter. She’s human, human, human. I can smell it now, I am dead certain. With a nose like this I know what everything is. Extra human with human on top. She will be so easy. Too easy. I’ll just have to remind myself of the wonderful irony that the girl who thinks herself the most powerful within the walls of this building is in fact one of the most helpless. I should tell her that, I think. I’d like to see the look on her face.
&
nbsp; Then I catch sight of her in the dusk and my blood pounds, ringing in my ears. I think, just kill her. Flesh. Limbs. Claws. Justice. They’d thank me. Worthless girl.
She’s seated on a park-style bench in the garden area between the gymnasium and the forest. Moonlight glints off her honey-gold hair. Her head is in her hands and I can smell the saline and mascara.
She’s crying. I laugh, and it startles her. Looking up, she rubs her eyes quickly, calling out, “Who’s there?”
“All alone in the woods?” I say, emerging through the trees.
“Camille?” Her defiant look becomes uneasy as she sees me in the light of the moon. “What’s going on?”
A grin spreads across my face. She clutches her purse to her, leaning away instinctively.
“You’re a real bitch, you know that, right?” I tell her.
“I...I don’t understand,” she stutters. Hayley, stuttering. And quivering like a rabbit. The queen in all her glory. God, this was a good night.
“You think you can get away with treating us like crap.” I snarl in her face. “No more. I’m ending your story right now.”
“What are you saying?” she exclaims, scrambling up from the bench. Let her try to run. She won’t get more than two steps in those ridiculous heels before I rip her throat open.
“You’re speaking to her in Japanese, you moron. She doesn’t understand you.”
I hadn’t smelled him. I whirl, and there’s Kei Sakamoto standing behind me, hands in his pockets. Where had he come from? And why couldn’t I smell him? It was like he didn’t exist.
He stretches lazily, lacing his fingers over his head. “You ducked out on your presentation, Lassie. Miller’s really going to dock your grade.”
My lip curls. I’m not here to chat. I’m busy. I turn back to Hayley, but now Sakamoto is standing between me and her.
He couldn’t have moved that fast. My gaze zips between where he was and where he stands now.
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