He took a heavy breath. “The man was selfish, first and foremost. That had not changed. What surprised him was that his system of measuring value had been upended by a scrawny orphan who tormented him with grilled mackerel for six years.”
“I never made you eat mackerel,” Camille muttered.
“You made everything smell like it,” he returned, grimacing as he upended the last of his drink. “Anyway, the new plan was to make the girl so incredibly badass that no matter what she encountered in the world, she would survive it. By this time the man had realized that the girl possessed a great deal of power, and he resolved that she should learn to use it better than he had with his own. He wanted to save her from what he’d decided was the worst fate - looking into the face of the person you care about the most and telling them that your entire, overly long life has been a total failure.”
“Not a total failure, you make good melon bread.”
That surprised a chuckle out of him. She was unaccustomed to serious Gabriel and it worried her when he lost his humor. “Ah, yes, thank you, I forgot. So the man bit the bullet, dragged her kicking and screaming to the faraway school, because if they were going to blackmail her into attendance, he was going to be there to make melon bread.” He glanced up at the clock. “And then the angry girl went to sleep, because she had class with a grumpy English teacher in the morning.”
He rose, walking to the door, empty glass in hand.
“Does this story have a happy ending?” Camille asked.
He regarded her for a moment. “Ask me later,” he said, shutting the door behind him.
Chapter 11
Jul
Mirror, 4pm
Tell anyone, and you’re dead.
That was all it said, in a neat, no-nonsense script. I’d unfolded the piece of paper Rhys had handed me several dozen times and I was still no closer to understanding his motives. Was he my enemy? He certainly didn’t seem like my friend. Did he just want to talk? Even if only that, did I really want to hear what he had to say?
As much of a threat as he seemed to be...if it led to my mother, I did. I absolutely did.
I gingerly stepped through the mirror’s frame, feeling the bizarre climate change from the humidity of the orchard to the chill of the stone stairwell. I climbed the steps with trepidation. I felt more like an intruder, this time. Bea was working at the library again this afternoon, so I’d had to walk home - but at least that meant I had some time to sort this out with Rhys in the Tower. Maybe he’d explain how all of this was possible.
A bleary face appeared in a small mirror on the wall when I reached the gleaming white atrium.
“Master Rhys awaits you in the library,” the face said, and then faded away.
I pushed aside the curtain. The sight of all those books still took my breath away. Rhys looked up at my entrance. He was seated at a wide table, books spread out around him.
“Hi,” I said sheepishly. “Please don’t...um...destroy me.”
“I won’t,” he said.
Tendrils of glass curled up from the floor, snaking around my legs and rooting me to the spot.
“Yet,” Rhys amended, rising from the table.
I twisted in my bonds, but the glass was too thick - I was trapped. My heart hammered in my chest.
Rhys approached a few steps, but kept his distance, well out of reach. “How’d you get in, hunter?” he demanded. “Are you a hybrid?”
“H-hybrid? What? I’m a girl, I’m just a girl, I don’t know what you’re saying!”
“Not convincing,” he stated coldly. “You’re a Graham and you made it into my mirror, and you want to pretend that it was an accident? Do I look stupid?”
“Yes! I mean no!” I floundered, as Rhys’s pale eyes sharpened. “I mean yes it was an accident - I was just following directions.”
“What directions?”
“In...in...” As I scrambled for coherence, something bizarre happened. My mind was suddenly wiped blank. Emotions pushed to one side. Indignation bubbled up inside me. I don’t have to tell him, flashed unexpectedly through my mind. Entitlement I had never felt in my life took over. The immediate certainty of ownership. “Let me go!” I snapped at him, demeanor shifting on a dime. I twisted in the binding glass. “This mirror is on my grandmother’s land. That makes it mine, not yours, you...you...mirror squatter!”
He made a face. “Phrasing. Please don’t ever say that again.”
“I’ll say whatever I want!” I shot back. My nerves burned, up and down my limbs, and it felt good even as it worried me. What was this place doing to me? “You want to know what I am? I am pissed off!” I shouted. There was an audible crack in the glass at my feet, but I paid it no heed. Everything was tumbling out of me, all the injustices, all the frustration. “My father abandoned me, my grandmother hates me, I’m a million miles from home, I don’t have any friends, your friends keep trying to ruin my life - this is the only good thing I’ve stumbled across in years. Years! I finally found something that might connect me to my mom and you want to take it away from me? I won’t let you!” The glass around my limbs burst apart, skittering fragments across the stone floor. They tumbled into grains of sand and lay still.
Rhys took a few steps back, eyes wide. A narrow, analytic look quickly replaced his confusion. “I’m not taking it away,” he said gruffly.
“You tried to trap me.” I folded my arms, still indignant but easing off the ledge. I couldn’t believe I’d exploded like that. And...exploded the glass. I think.
“I don’t know you, I was being cautious,” he said, but I was pretty sure he was just covering his tracks. “I just want you to answer my question. What are you?”
I sighed, deflating. “Just a normal girl.”
“Not possible,” he said flatly. “There are only a handful of normal people in that school, and after what you just did...you’re definitely not one of them.”
He reached inside his jacket and pulled out my mother’s journal. Instinctively I reached for it and he held it higher, giving me an icy warning look. “You carry this around,” he said, “and you expect me to believe you’re just another human?”
“I don’t know, alright?” I blurted, everything tumbling out. “Please, I need it back, it’s all I have of hers. I only just found it, I followed the map to the mirror that got me into the Tower, I didn’t know it was yours, please just let me have the journal back!”
He regarded me narrowly. “No.”
My whole countenance crumpled. “It was my mother’s,” I murmured. “Please, it’s all I have of hers.”
His expression became a bare fraction less stern. “And your mother,” he said. “What was she?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I seriously don’t know anymore.”
“Hmph,” he said gruffly. “Well you’re either a very good liar or you’re woefully ignorant. Either is dangerous. Something like this isn’t safe with you,” he said, brandishing the journal. “Anyone could take it. No, I’m keeping it.”
Tears welled up. What could I do? Mom, I’m sorry. I messed up.