Soulless comb the streets, raid houses. Doors fly open and wood splits. Children cry. How long before the Haven becomes part of the endless night?
We duck behind trome trunks and crouch near cabin porches, two fugitives escaping arrest. I maneuver with ease, grateful for the Guardian uniform Stormy lent me. The pants are a little snug, the jacket a bit short. Still, it’s better than a dress.
At one point Ky and I lie low in a patch of wild sumac. I can only hope it isn’t poisonous. Our bodies press against earth as a Soulless passes just feet away. Ky tosses a stone against a tree to divert the guard, and we flee, twilight’s shadows camouflaging our escape.
I don’t know how long it takes to reach the wall enclosing the island. The wall built to protect. To keep. To guard. It’s nothing but a farce. An elaborate trick constructed to make the people feel safe. How did Haman find it? The Haven is covered by trees, and the door is hidden—
Moan. We were followed. No wonder we didn’t have trouble on our way here. Jasyn wanted us to succeed, to lead his men straight into the rebels’ hideout.
When we finally stop, I hug my cramped middle with one arm and reach for the vine-infested wall with the other. “What’s the plan?”
Ky kneels and knots his bootlaces, yanks the cuffs of his brown pants down to his heels. “You tell me. You’re the one who’s supposed to find the vessel. We could really use him right about now.”
Crud. He doesn’t know. What am I supposed to do now? Joshua would want me to hide, but it’s obvious Mom isn’t on her way. How can I cower when I know she needs rescuing?
Ky rises and gives me a sidelong glance, feeling around for the secret door in the wall. “Any inkling as to where the vessel might be?”
Should I tell Ky the truth?
“Em, did you hear me?”
“What’s it going to be, brave girl? Time to choose for yourself the path you will take.”
“Em?”
“I need to go back to the castle. Is there a faster way to get there? What about the Leviathan—Via? Can you get her to take us?” Cringe. My request sounds ridiculous.
He widens his stance. “She works for Crowe. He knows I betrayed him. The only place Via would take us is the dungeons.” He folds his arms across his chest. “Want to tell me why you need to return to the place I busted my butt to rescue you from?”
“My mom—”
“No way.” Ky pounds his fist against the wall, smashing ivy into stone. “Crowe. We’ll be lucky to make it off the island. I guarantee Soulless swarm the beach on the other side. They’ll kill me without a thought. Take you straight to the castle, which is apparently what you want anyway. My Calling doesn’t work on Soulless. I can’t control them any more than I could control Robyn’s dead body.” He flattens his palm and rests his forehead on the back of his hand. “I’m sorry. I know she was your friend.”
Robyn’s name stings like swallowed salt water, adding to the helplessness curling over me like a tidal wave. I hardly knew her, but yes, she was more of a friend to me than most.
Sigh. What now? We have no weapons, no defense. Ky has the mirrorglass blade, but how much damage can that do?
I sit cross-legged, grabbing at my hair, picking out pieces of leaf and twig.
“Brave girl . . .”
I’m sorry, Mom. I’m useless.
“Peer beyond the surface.”
Another of Mom’s sayings, a tender kiss brushing the lip of my soul.
I withdraw the book Joshua gave me from my pack, along with the flashlight Ky stashed there a few days ago. I click it on and begin thumbing through the pages. The beam dim, the batteries dying. I’ll have to speed-read.
Ky pauses his search for the door. Leaves crunch under his boots as he shifts closer to me. “Is that a volume of The Reflection Chronicles?”
“Yes.”
“Whose account—?”
“My mom’s.” I bend into the old volume, willing my eyes to read faster than the light wanes.
The pages crinkle with each turn. Flip. Flap. Flit. I peruse the entries written in Mom’s signature cursive. Yep. She was a Scrib all right. One chapter includes drawings and descriptions of poisonous versus safe-to-eat vegetation. Another lists the chronology of our ancestry five generations back. Still another records detailed descriptions of the Callings, paired with sketches of the tattoos. The space beside Evers is blank. I guess Joshua’s kind really do keep themselves hidden. Even Mom doesn’t know their symbol.
Come on. There has to be something in here we can use.
Ky moves down the wall a few feet, resuming his hunt.
Flip. Scan. Turn. When I reach the final entry, my breath catches. It’s written on a loose slip of parchment, the handwriting smudged and sloppy, as if it were stuffed into the tome at the last minute. The top of the page reads “Mirror Theory.” Beneath the title, a four-line poem is printed, followed by several paragraphs beginning on the front and concluding on the back. I study the words quickly, phrases popping out like flickers of light.
And there, at the end of the entry, is a drawing.
No. Way.
I read the paragraph three times over, trace the illustration with my fingertips. It’s . . . beautiful. I didn’t see it, but now—if this works, Ky and I could escape unscathed. I smile.
Thanks, Mom.
Ky rushes over. He must take in my sudden demeanor change because he asks, “What is it? What did you find?”
I clutch the pages to my chest. “Our ticket out of here.”
We were at the wrong part of the wall. The exit is another mile down. I see it now. Just looks like a big gap.
“Are you sure about this?” Ky hesitates at the façade.
“Yes.” Brackish air fills my lungs. Before our sea monster encounter, the scent would’ve drawn me forward. Now I pause, wary. Do I really believe Mom’s theory?
I guess I’m going to find out.
Ky heads through the opening first, then pulls me through.
Crud. Just as he predicted. Soulless camp where the tree line ends, about the length of a New York block away.
He intertwines our fingers and squeezes my hand. “We could go back, try to find a way around.”
I draw a deep breath. Exhale with a shudder. “No. That’ll take too long.”
We move forward, staying undercover as much as possible as we head onto the beach. The tide has receded, the lapping waves a seemingly unattainable goal.
What am I doing? This is beyond stupid.
No. I’d trust Mom with my life. Which is exactly what I’m about to do.
We go unnoticed through the camp, hopping from tent to tent, sticking to the shadows. Several of Jasyn’s men laze around a bonfire while others set up tiki torches at intervals, washing the beach in a ruddy glow.
My flesh crawls at the sight of them. It’s like a horror movie, all charred veins and deadened stares. Some don’t seem to be completely turned, like Gage. Their eyes normal, their skin still visible beneath the black vines.
Beyond the camp a massive ship fresh off the pages of a J. M. Barrie novel looms just offshore. Sea foam gathers where wood curves into water. Hiss, spray, whoosh. What are we doing? We can’t steal a pirate ship. Even if the plan works—
Ky releases my hand.
I freeze.
“And where do you two think you’re going?” a guard deadpans.