It looks as if Ky might protest, but Flint stares him down. After a second Ky leans back and Flint jumps in the water, grabs hold of Tide’s dorsal fin. They dive together while we wait. Ky doesn’t look my way again, and no one else makes eye contact either. Everyone is on edge. I feel it in the tension of Ebony’s shoulder against mine, in the awkward, deafening silence.
Several minutes later, Tide returns with a thumbs-up. He takes Sam—er, Gunner—down next. Then Charley, followed by Ebony. Member by member, the boat empties. A few are people I’ve seen around the ship but don’t know by name. In the end only Streak, Ky, Khloe, and I are left. Ky is next, but before he enters the water he locks eyes with mine and thinks, “See you on the other side.”
See you, is all I can think. Why is my stomach in knots?
When he’s gone, I begin counting in my head. So far the longest it’s taken Tide to make a round trip has been four minutes and thirty-nine seconds.
At two minutes I take a deep breath. Still plenty of time.
At three minutes I lean forward, peer over the boat’s edge. Khloe mirrors my move.
At four minutes I swallow. Where are they?
When we hit the five-minute mark, I glance between Khloe and Streak. The way he flexes his jaw tells me he’s nervous too. Khloe, whose faith in her brother could move mountains, even shows worry in the tightness framing her brown eyes.
Then a sensation like a punch to the gut brings me to my knees. My face feels as if it’s been pummeled and the skin at my neck stings. My sudden agony is the first sign something is wrong. Because the pain is not my own. It belongs to him, but we’re separated by Reflections. Again.
Six minutes. Seven. Eight.
Tide does not return.
ACT III
I See the Light
THIRTY-TWO
The Fog Has Lifted
Khloe peers farther over the boat’s edge. Streak moves. I rise.
The shift in gravity registers first, not externally but internally. It’s similar to the feeling I had the first time I stepped through my own reflection. A distinct change only I would notice. Quickened pulse. Heightened awareness expanding to all five senses. Lyrics to a song I haven’t heard in forever play in my mind’s forefront. I never thought Zedd’s “Clarity” made much sense, but now I wonder if the DJ-turned-record producer was on to something.
Because for every tragedy or crisis, every obstacle or barrier, there’s been one remedy, one thing—one person—who’s given me utter and complete clarity. Joshua’s calming was instant, but never lasted. And Ky? He’s “the piece of me I wish I didn’t need.” But I do, and I won’t lose him. Again.
And just like that, the fog clouding my brain lifts.
The boat knock, knock, knocks against the top of the stairs. Streak straddles a bench, loosening us, readying to row back to the Seven Seas. Frizzing dreads slap his face, and his biceps flex as he heaves the rope into the boat. Grunt. Thunk. He’s a silver screen pirate incarnate, from his tattoo sleeves to his yellowed teeth. But I’m not afraid of him. No, there are far worse things to fear. Like insignificance. Or having the opportunity to act and not seizing it.
“Brave girl. My brave, brave girl.” The pride in Mom’s voice carries on her words remembered.
A grin surfaces in response to the Scrib within—to the memory I recognize as part of my Calling. I always saw Mom as perfect and porcelain, but perhaps I’m more like her than I believed. Her words are etched onto my soul. And no matter where she is, I’m certain she’d still want me to be brave. To do whatever I can to help the others.
Khloe picks her way toward me, distracting me from the silent conversation. My gaze attends her, but my heart listens for Ky.
When she reaches me, she folds her arms and without pretense asks, “What’s the plan, El?”
Good question. I press my forefingers to my temples and close my eyes. Ky believes in me. He’s saved me time and time again. Now it’s my turn. But how can we make it through the Threshold without drowning? Tide was our one-way bullet train into the Fourth. The shallow waters of The Pond, or even the lagoon beneath the subway, were one thing. But the ocean’s bed is miles down. We’d die before reaching the bottom, let alone the other side. I’ve never been there and without Ky’s hand in mine, I can’t mirror walk my way in.
“Khloe can help.”
My lashes snap skyward. I don’t even flinch at Ky’s direction. His voice in my head is as second nature as singing used to be. I look to Khloe.
Her brown eyes twinkle. “So it’s real.” Not a question. A confirmation.
My head tilts.
“And here I thought it was only a theory.” She laughs.
Did I miss the joke? I glance over her shoulder. Streak rows, puffing through pursed lips. We’re nearing the stone arch. Beyond the opening, a storm batters the main ship. Loose sails flap and snap. Someone I can’t identify waves his arms wildly from the deck.
“Don’t look so surprised,” she says. “I saw your expression just now. I’ve been watching you on the ship too. You shared a Kiss of Infinity with my brother. The connection between you is real.” Khloe’s words release in a rush. She loses balance and I grab her elbow to steady her.
I move my lips, though no sound emerges, hoping she can read them. What’s. Your. Calling?
She leans in, peering at Streak, then back at me. “Watch.” She takes my hand, yanks hard.
Streak shouting, “Stop, lasses!” is the last sound I hear before my ears flood. The frigid water smashes into me like hundreds of bee stings pelting my body. I claw for the surface, but an unseen weight drags me deeper.
Wham! My head meets something solid. The boat’s side? A rock? I’m abruptly reminded of where I am. I gasp for air, but invite a mouthful of ocean instead. The salty water stings my nose and throat, burns as it fills my lungs. I feel my head, but it’s impossible to decipher if my hair is damp with blood or water. What was Khloe thinking?
And where is she?
“Stop. Wait.”
Ky’s voice is my only reassurance. I’m blind. And dizzy. Spots dance before my waterlogged eyes. The pressure on my lungs is too much. I. Need. Oxygen.
But then, just as quickly as it began, the pain eases. I’m no longer choking, and somehow I can breathe, though it feels unnatural. Heavy. As if I’m constantly drinking but never feeling the need to stop and inhale.
This makes no sense. I’m still underwater. I shouldn’t be able to—A hand tugs on mine. My head whips left. My heart swells at the sight of Khloe. She’s okay and she’s . . . smiling? She’s—
Khloe. Has. Gills.
I touch my neck. Gasp. Bubbles rise.
I have gills too. How is this possible?
My question will have to wait. Our hands release and we swim freely, but together. Keep close to the descending stone steps, using them as a guide. And then, there it is, the pinprick of green light alerting us to the Threshold’s opening. It’s faint as if fading with the Threshold’s drainage, but it’s there.