The Thief

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.

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.