He unfolded from the window seat in a leisurely fashion, in slow, deliberate movements, and every movement sent a chill down Sin’s spine, like a ghost drawing a cold finger along the small of her back. He was slight and not tall, but that didn’t matter: It just made her think of elves as they were in the oldest stories, alien and terrible, child thieves and traitors. His eyes were silver coins, whatever color they had once been drowned in shimmering magic, and his face was a perfect blank.
Sin’s sense of dread built, as if the finger tracing her spine had become a claw. The thing between his palms, the thing he was turning over and over as if it was a familiar and favorite toy, was a gleaming-sharp knife. There were carvings on the hilt, and the blade looked too sharp to be real.
Worse than that, as he turned to face her head-on, she saw the demon’s mark set along the sharp line of his jaw. It was a dark and wavering brand, an obscene shadow crawling on the boy’s porcelain-pale skin.
“You don’t remember me?” he asked. “I’m Jamie.”
For a moment Sin could not accept it, her head filled with buzzing like far-off screaming. She did not want to accept it, that this was the sweet, forgettable boy she’d met at a barbecue, that this was Mae’s only family, her beloved brother.
If Mae’s brother could turn into this, what would they do to Lydie?
Whatever expression she had on her face at that moment, it made Jamie laugh softly. He came toward her, tossing the knife from hand to hand. The blade made a whining sound in the air, like a hungry dog.
“Ring any bells?”
“Sure,” Sin said, and did not let herself strain against her bonds, did not try to scramble away, as he drew closer. “Your eyes used to be brown.”
His eyes were shimmering and bright, pools of pure magic. They looked awful. He looked blind.
His mouth formed a crooked smile, something that might have been almost sweet without those eyes and that knife. All the other magicians looked so much more normal, Sin thought, the claw of horror raking up her spine again. What had he done to himself?
He sat at the other end of the table from her, still smiling. There was a tiny dimple on the cheek above the demon’s mark.
“True,” he said, and she almost couldn’t remember what she had been talking about. He looked even more amused, as if he could read her mind. “I’m a whole new man.”
Maybe he could read her mind. She couldn’t know.
Jamie tossed his knife up into the air and then caught it again.
“Imagine your baby sister turning out like me.”
“Oh, I am,” Sin breathed.
“Then you should do the right thing,” Jamie advised. “Think it over. It will all come clear.”
The boat rolled. Sin’s stomach was rolling too, but she didn’t think there was any connection. Jamie checked his watch.
“How long are the two of us expected to stay here watching a chained-up girl with no powers?” he asked in a bored voice.
The question brought Seb’s bowed head up for the first time.
“I don’t know,” he answered. He seemed to be choosing his words with difficulty. “But I’m—I’m glad they did. I want to talk to you.”
“I got that from all the knocking on and waiting outside my door,” Jamie drawled. “Here is some information about me you may not know. When I want to talk to people? I give them subtle hints like opening the door.”
He slid the blade on his knife closed and put it in his pocket. Then he slid closer down the table, toward Sin and away from Seb.
Even though Seb had had his head bowed and his eyes determinedly fixed on the floor while Celeste and Gerald were in the room, Sin had received the impression that he was terribly, guiltily aware of her the entire time.
Neither of the boys seemed aware of her now.
Seb was looking at Jamie, green eyes intense, like a man on a mission. Jamie just looked bored.
“I’ve been thinking a lot, since we came here,” Seb went on. “Now that all the things that used to matter— school and stuff—they don’t matter anymore. Everything’s changed.”
“I know,” Jamie said in a serious voice. “At school, you were the one with all the power, and you made my life miserable. And now I’m the one with the power, and you want to be friends. Isn’t it funny how that works?”
“That’s not it,” Seb burst out, and bit his lip.
“That’s not it? You don’t want to be friends?”
Seb hesitated. Jamie laughed.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I don’t care about how tortured you are about killing or your pathetic lack of power or anything else going through your mind. You may have finally worked out what you want, but I don’t care about that, either. Because I don’t care about you.”
Given Seb’s rapt attention, drinking in those terrible white eyes, Sin could work out what he wanted too.
So the beautiful prisoner-in-distress routine was unlikely to work, then. Just hell.
Careful not to let her chains rattle, Sin drew closer to Jamie.
“I know that,” Seb said. “But—”
“Would you care for some advice?” Jamie asked, his voice full of mock pity. “There is a reason following someone around and drawing little pictures”—he sneered at the word, and Seb flushed a painful red—“is so very
