The Crumpled Mirror Elizabeth Loea (best historical biographies txt) 📖

the others, several dozen feet below, and the four of them crowded out onto a balcony that circled one of the library floors.

“What did you do?” Adrian called up. I tucked the note of charms into my bra, pressed my palm to the charm on the driftwood, and drifted down to meet them.

“Figured something out,” I said. “Let’s see some random murderer try to come after us with this.”

I held my hand palm-up between us.

“Fire,” I said, and flames burst past my face, slicing into the sky. When the smoke cleared, Adrian grinned like he had won the lottery.

“Nice,” he said. “Draw it on me.”

“Over my very dead and not-resurrected body,” I told him. “I wouldn’t trust you with fire if we were the last two people on earth and got trapped in the Arctic.”

“You wound me.”

“Back to work,” I said, and avoided Indigo’s eyes when he tried to catch mine on my way back into the sky.

XIX

Despite his best efforts, I managed to avoid Indigo for the next couple of days. In fact, I managed to avoid almost everyone, save Lilac, who occasionally found my hiding spots, and Adrian, who had started learning how to see the future and could predict where I would be before even I knew it.

Most of the time, I turned lazy circles in the air above the ocean in Half Moon Bay. Yes, it wasn’t safe. Yes, I was leaving Indigo alone with his ghost. Every minute I hated myself more for that second fact, but I had to be away from the others for the kind of research I was doing.

Nobody had noticed when I found a collection of journals on the top level of the library. If anyone had observed me load a box full of them onto my board one morning, they certainly hadn’t said anything about it.

Probably because I could shoot fire from my hands and had developed a resting bitch face that could shatter glass.

The journals spanned the late 1940s to a mere decade before now—conveniently, the last entry was dated the day before Vivi had died. In the foggy air above the Pacific Ocean, I couldn’t help but feel as though the person who had written that journal entry was watching me, waiting for a moment to call me out on reading their writing.

“If you didn’t want someone to read it, why’d you leave it in the library?” I called at one point. Nobody answered, of course, but I’d started to expect answers from unusual places. Vivi watched me from the ground below. She was too far away for me to see her roll her eyes, but I knew she did.

The writer’s name was written in the front cover: Gavin Hernandez. He’d tucked a photo of himself into the cover, too. It was a younger version of the substitute who had handed me that copy of Midsummer. His arm was slung around the shoulders of a kid with a shock of red hair, identifiable as Jamie Jacobs from writing on the back of the photo. I sent up a quick thank-you for the journal. Hernandez taken meticulous notes on everything he and his four companions had attempted—everything they’d accomplished.

And it was awful. Even more awful than the pages Amaranth had left me.

I wouldn’t tell the others about the pages unless it was absolutely necessary, and even when it became necessary, I still didn’t know whether it would be right to mention it.

At least Amaranth was giving me good clues.

I was trying to narrow down Mint’s identity among the last group of testers. He couldn’t be Hernandez, who had died right before my eyes. Penelope Hsu was also an unlikely guess. Jamie Jacobs had been short, and a redhead.

So that left Artie Lincoln and the nameless kid.

Hernandez had also given a detailed account of the tests. The first one had seemed extreme, but it was absolutely nothing compared to the details in those journals.

Today, they stepped it up. Penelope and Jamie don’t want to be here anymore. Artie’s made up his mind that he’ll quit, but he’s not able to go through with it. I’m not sure whether I want to stay, either. At this point, it’s kind of ridiculous. I haven’t seen the sun in days, and when I do, it’s only to control it.

I’m tired of magic.

That last line struck me across the face. This group of people was clearly just like us—five kids brought together because of insatiable curiosity. As far as I could tell, there was no death in the past that brought them together, just curious minds and the same line Mint had told me: Robin College needs new scholars. It was the first line in the book, written above Hernandez’s name in the front cover.

Whatever these tests were, they certainly weren’t for being a scholar.

I’m tired of this. All four of us are tired of it, except Oberon. Did I mention that? The nameless kid calls himself Oberon now, like the king in Midsummer. Either way, he’s gotten high and mighty in more ways than one, and I think it’s getting out of hand.

He laughed during the test today. Even thinking about it gives me chills, although he’s asleep right now. He looks fine when he’s asleep. Young, like the rest of us. When he’s awake, though, he looks as though he’s possessed. I know that’s impossible and that you can’t be possessed if your power is possession, but something about him is off.

The rest of us are all awake, of course. Plotting.

I’m kidding. Sort of.

Only one more test after this. It’s tomorrow morning. Wish me luck.

The journal stopped after that and one more entry. The final entry was much shorter and much, much more ominous.

Penelope, Jamie, and I all passed. The funeral for Artie is tomorrow. Oberon is losing his goddamn mind. He escaped custody earlier and never came back. Artie disappeared hours later. Maybe Oberon took him. He couldn’t have walked off by himself, anyway, considering he’d been decapitated.