The Thief

want to be free of me, just say the magic words,” she grins at me.

“Can you bring Jul back to life?” I snap at her.

She actually seems to consider this. She reaches into the back pocket of her pants and pulls out a tiny leatherbound notebook. She flips through the pages briefly. “Doesn’t seem like it, no,” she says, tucking the notebook away. “Not on my list of things I’m capable of.”

“Do you even know what’s wrong with her?” I demand.

She sets the bottle down and comes closer, observing her with curiosity. “There was...” Her brow creases in thought. “Maybe...augh!” she cries out, hand to her head. “No!” she shouts, suddenly furious. “I have no idea! Quit asking me questions! I don’t care what happens to your girlfriend!” She storms out of the front door. Gohei looks after her, expression blank. The imp calms.

“Gabriel said Simon ran her through with the Tailor’s Sword,” Tailor is saying behind me. “It was made for killing immortals. But I never really thought about how it worked. My father said something about it severing the connection with their souls, removing it...”

“Below,” Destin says, speaking up for the first time.

I turn - he’s looking at Gohei, who’s pointing down.

Tailor makes a move to approach the man, but the imp hisses at him, and Tailor stays where he is. “You know what the sword does?” he asks, intent.

Gohei gives a light shrug, as if to say, Of course.

“Then tell us!” I say, but he points to his neck and quirks an eyebrow.

“Oh for the love of...” Bea says, rummaging in a drawer and handing him a pad of paper and a pencil. He regards the writing utensil with curiosity, but proceeds to scribble out a response. He hands the pad back to her and she reads aloud, “Immortal bodies are indestructible. In order to combat us, the Tailors forged a weapon that would sever our souls, sending them Below.”

“Below?” I repeat.

Again, he points down.

“What, like hell?” I exclaim. I look at Jul’s impassive face. She can’t seriously be in hell.

“It’s been called a lot of things,” Bea said, looking at her as well. “That’s probably the least accurate. Probably.”

Camille stands, expression stony. “Alright,” she says. “So how do we get her back?”

Epilogue

Rhys

What was the point?

I sat in my room, staring at the mirror. When I’d come to, in the orchard, there had been Jul’s body lying beside me and the mirror to the Tower, surface marred with spidery cracks. I’d never been able to move it before - or I would have ages ago - but now that it was broken whatever had held it in place was gone. I’d carried it away with me and brought it home. No one would get into my mirror ever again. I traced one of the silver roses with my finger.

But what was the point?

I was going to bring her the journal. I’d thought that handing over the stupid thing would suffice to mend fences between us. That’s why I’d gone back to the Tower, to retrieve it. I pulled it out of the interior of my jacket now, looking at the inscription embossed inside the cover. Kyra. Her mother’s journal, she’d said. It had brought her to me, and I’d...

Well.

It took the greatest focus to manipulate glass - I often centered my thoughts on an endless expanse of calm ocean. Me, alone, with nothing but tranquility on every horizon. But the ocean was dark now, and the sky overcast.

It seemed ridiculous that I should be this distraught. She was one girl. I barely knew her.

I barely knew anyone, and it had never bothered me before.

And yet, I couldn’t stop feeling this immense sense of loss. And guilt. The ocean in my mind began to churn. If only I hadn’t been so...if I hadn’t locked her out in the first place...

I paced around my room. My bed looked too much like the one that had burned in the Tower. The bookshelves around me that rose from floor to ceiling felt oppressive, looming. Full of research I had yet to do. This was what I had wanted. A clear path to the throne, that was all that mattered. Anything else was a distraction.

I shoved a stack of books, and they crashed to the floor. Gods help me, I wanted Jul to distract me. I was alone, with nothing on the horizon. No way to tell north from south. I’d had bearings, before. But what was the point?

Turning to the mirror behind me, I reached out to trace the cracks with my fingers. I’d lost Jul. I’d lost the Tower.

Because of that man... Lightning crackled over the ocean. My teeth ground together, thinking of Simon Graham. Maybe I couldn’t have Jul back, but I could avenge her. If I could find a way to make my powers work here, outside the mirror, I could destroy him. I’d lost the library in the Tower, but perhaps something in this journal -

I heard a soft hiss, like papers rustling. I looked around - there couldn’t be wind in my room.

“...ss”

On edge, I spun, searching for the source. “Who’s there?” I demanded.

“...yss...”

I strained to listen, perfectly still.

“Rhys?” the quiet voice said. “Rhys, is that you?”

I stared wide-eyed at the broken mirror. The cracks obscured it, but the face was unmistakable. Her perfect, delicate face - her plush lips and her wide dark eyes, eyes I could lose myself forever in.

“Rhys, help me,” Jul begged, her voice sounding hazy and far away. “You have to get me out of here!”

There was a lighthouse, a beacon in the distance. I could swim for it.

“I will,” I told her. “I will, I swear.”

To be continued...