The voice belongs to Kyaphus. I know in my heart of hearts the memory ought to move me, stir something deep inside. His words are profound, overflowing with meaning. If I’d read them, heard them recited in a play or film or song, I’d nod and be like, “Whoa.” Because, hello, what a simple but powerful line.
But all I feel is out-of-character hatred. I’ve never been so disgusted with myself. So repulsed. How can the Verity even stand to live within such an angry soul? How is it I feel so much hatred for a boy I hardly know? A boy who carries the Void?
For me.
And what about Jasyn? What does he feel? Rejection? Abandonment? Who aside from Aidan is close to him? He had to have a wife, a woman he loved—loves. Who is my grandmother? Could she have been in the meeting?
One thing Jasyn said struck me, returns to me now.
“I had hoped one more soul might see me for the man rather than the mark.”
What happened when Ember graced the scene? Or, more importantly, when she became a Mirror? When her Calling strengthened and she saw past Jasyn’s façade to the evil he contained? Was Ember the first to see his less-than-Verity side? Did she turn the king against Jasyn when she became queen? Did my grandfather lose everything he held dear when the truth of what he hid was exposed?
It wasn’t his fault. His choice. Before he gave in and relished the Void’s power, he was just like . . .
Kyaphus.
But what does that mean for me? Each little piece I recall in relation to him comes bit by broken bit. But each recollection means nothing. He took on the Void when he saved Ebony from Jasyn. The event speeds toward me like a runaway train through clearing fog. Shouldn’t his sacrifice strike me in some way? Move me? Why does thinking of it make me despise him even more?
Gah! I’d like to throw something now. Please and thank you. There was a time I wanted to feel nothing. To never love. Never feel. Never care again. Now, to quote Kodaline (best band ever, right?), it’s “all I want.”
All I need.
Maybe it’s all my grandfather needs too. To care. To love. To feel loved.
Resolve takes over. I’m off the sofa and slipping on my nearly dry Converse, because no way can I chase anyone in Grandma Bianca’s shoes. Then I’m out the door before I can think better of it. A first-floor window reveals my hair is a sight, rivaling an eighties rock star. My untucked blouse and twisted skirt make me appear as if I’m sneaking away from a night in someone else’s bed. Which technically I am, but not in the way people would think. Whatever. At least I’m taking action instead of sitting here stewing over what I’ve lost. Memory. Calling. Everything, really.
I’m ordinary now. Average. But that doesn’t make me nothing. I can still do something. I won’t stand idly by and wait to be rescued. Maybe Jasyn and I can help each other out. As he is now, perhaps he would want the Void destroyed as well. Which means, for now, he’s on my side. An ally.
A smile lifts my frozen cheeks as I tuck my head down against the night breeze. What would those I left behind say about me seeking help from Jasyn Crowe? Joshua would probably be livid, and Stormy might tell me to be careful, and Mom . . .
I pick up my pace, smiling wider as I imagine her words to me now. Not the words of a parent once afraid her child would break. But the encouragement of a mother who has learned to let go and trust I’d find my own way.
“Go get him, brave girl.”
On my way, Mom.
THIRTEEN
Ky
Do not fall asleep,” I repeat, a touch louder this time. I eye the Shadowalker from the side, but it’s not Josh I’m addressing.
He elbows me, but a halfhearted dodge is all I need. My boots kick up dust with each shift in the sand. The overcast day warms as the hour wears. Not at all bad for traveling or, once we find Em and make it to the Fountain, time traveling.
I smile, exhale a laugh through my nose. The satisfaction is bittersweet, though. My mirrorglass blade becomes my distraction. I draw it, flip it over in my hand, balancing and rocking it across my knuckles.
“Weapons are not toys,” Josh says through clenched teeth. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to play with knives?” He snickers. “Oh, apologies. I forgot you were raised by a traitor. Like father like son, I suppose.” He raises his head a fraction.
He thinks he can get to me through snide comments?
Think again. I don’t conceal my light chuckle. This Josh character is something else. Petty and arrogant and an even bigger jerk than Preacher. Saul is just a tough old grump, but Josh? Josh is a horse’s—
Well, you know.
I don’t respond to his jabs. We all have our dark sides. Who am I to judge? I continue fiddling with my blade, tossing it in the air, then catching it behind my back. I keep my black-veined arm twisted behind me and balance the hilt on the heel of my palm.
Josh rolls his eyes.
My grin widens.
“You’re a child,” he says.
“Why, thank you.” Another flip of my blade. A bow for good measure. “I appreciate the compliment, but really, Josh, we don’t know each other well enough for flattery yet.” One suggestive wag of my eyebrows and that does it.
He scoffs and backs away. Time to take a breather. I’ll give him a break before I commence my second round of annoy-Josh-enough-for-him-to-put-his-guard-down. David’s in there somewhere. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” I call.
Josh just shakes his head and distances himself farther.
All right already. Sheesh. I’ll stop.
For now.
Now’s as good a time as any to survey our assets. I take in each of our company in turn. Streak keeps close to Elizabeth on her right, while the Commander and Evan flank her left. Evan hasn’t made a peep since we departed.
“Are you sure he’s breathing?” Elizabeth places a full hand on Evan’s back.
The baby is still strapped to Makai like a bulletproof vest. “Yes, my love.”
“Is he too hot?” she asks. “Maybe I should carry him—”
“He’s fine.” As is his trademark, the Commander’s tone is firm but kind. “Put your worries to rest. Enjoy the walk.” He pulls her to his side and kisses her hair.
She and Em have been torn apart and reunited more times than she’d probably prefer. Who can blame her for being protective?
And speaking of protective, get a load of Streak. Even more unapproachable than Preacher with his eyebrow piercing, missing front teeth, and sleeve tattoos, the man is a machine. Brown dreadlocks frame his stone-cold expression. His steel gaze could fracture my nearly indestructible blade. His Amulet Calling is hard at work, casting a façade around our entire team. Sweat beads his brow, the muscles in his jaw and neck bulge. He’s not the most talented Amulet I’ve encountered, but he’s certainly the most determined.
Then there are the girls, doing what they do best. Talk. For once Khloe isn’t the biggest chatterbox in the group. She’s too content admiring Stormy—who is the biggest chatterbox. The Magnet’s continuous dialogue with Ebony, my sister, and Tide takes me back to that night in the Second once again. When Jonathan Gage tied Em’s hands while Stormy carried out his bidding. Every muscle in my body tenses at the memory. Funny how things come full circle: some good, some not. Stormy and Em are friends now, the past forgotten. From the fond way Em thinks of her, I’d say Stormy is just as much a sister to her as the other two.