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

I’d searched and searched for the journal that came after that one, but there was nothing. Not even a piece of scrap paper tucked into another book on the shelf. I wanted to be optimistic and to assume that Hernandez, Jacobs, and Hsu had all gone on to Robin College safely and had been living well for the past decade.

Considering Vivi’s death the day after that journal entry, the fact that Oberon was “losing his goddamn mind,” that he had escaped custody, and that he had come back covered in ash, and the absence of any more entries, I wasn’t banking on this group’s story having a happy ending.

The final test had killed Artie Lincoln.

Artie Lincoln had been Mint.

Maybe he’d been killed by Oberon, who the substitute had said “escaped custody.” Oberon had returned covered in ash. I didn’t expect that had been the kind of ash that would exist in a normal fireplace.

And, considering the day Vivi died, I was pretty sure I knew what kind of ash it was.

So...why had Oberon killed her? I had a sinking feeling, of course, that it hadn’t just been rage. What kind of magic would that kind of murder grant him? How had he killed her, and five other people, too?

I needed another note from Amaranth. Just a hint. Artie Lincoln had been killed. Now he was coming back once a day for twelve hours. There was no way that had been his power ten years ago, or his death wouldn’t have been treated as a tragedy by the writer of the journal.

So how had he been brought back?

Oberon. Blood magic was strong. Blood magic of five people must have been immeasurably stronger. Artie Lincoln was back…

So why were killings happening again? We hadn’t had any permanent deaths so far.

The past’s puzzle was fitting together. The future, though...I’d need Amaranth for the future.

It wasn’t safe to go back to my apartment, but I didn’t really have a choice, or so I told myself. It would have been a good idea to at least bring Indigo, who would criticize me but wouldn’t stop me, or Lilac, who I got along with better than Adrian and Ginger.

I went alone. Of course I did.

I cruised along the shoreline, trying to stay out of sight. That early in the day, there was nobody on the silent beaches. Nobody was masochistic enough to suffer the cold, it seemed. The sand looked practically grey, the ocean lapping hesitantly at the shore.

That morning, I almost expected one of my friends to emerge from the fog behind me, insistent upon helping me out with this mystery. But none of them knew about the mystery in the first place, and Indigo knew I wanted space, and Ginger and Lilac were preoccupied trying to pry Adrian away from their relationship. Whatever the reason, I knew it was unwise, particularly when I neared the dilapidated building I had lived in up until very recently.

Ghosts clustered in front of my building, crowded below my window. An old woman sat with her legs dangling out of my window, a ghostly cigarette dangling from between her fingers. She flicked translucent ash to the ground and took another drag as I neared.

Gods, there was no way I’d get into the apartment without help or a miracle.

I patted my pockets, searching for anything that could be of help. Down on the street below, passers-by kept their eyes on their cellphones and didn’t bother peering into the fog above—if they had, they would have spotted a panicked young woman scattering gum wrappers and failed origami across her hovering driftwood transportation.

There was the journal I’d gone through that morning, then the little book I’d taken from Indigo’s home. I’d meant to take that back, damn it, but I’d forgotten and then I’d run my mouth and their wasn’t really a good time to say “hey, I accidentally took this from your library” to the guy I liked.

Ugh. If I’d been any of the others, I might have been able to manipulate something to my advantage. Telekinesis would have been useful. Adrian’s foresight would have helped me make some kind of plan. Necromancy wouldn’t have been of much help, but maybe being able to sense emotions would have let me manipulate the group away from where they crowded the front entrance. Ghosts clogged the sparse front yard of the old, industrial-looking building.

My neighbor Racquel trudged up the path toward the front door, a Whole Foods bag in one hand and a jug of milk in the other. She didn’t even look up as ghosts jeered in her direction.

How many are there? I thought. And why am I only seeing them now?

It was a silly question. I was part of magic now. We are one endless organism, all connected. I’d only seen Vivi before because she was intimately connected to my life. Now other ghosts were coming through because they were becoming relevant, too.

Their sheer number was awful. They couldn’t all have been killed by Oberon. Maybe I was able to see ghosts indiscriminately now. The unfinished business even in a small town like mine was…

Just heartbreaking.

Raquel’s Whole Foods bag broke a moment later and ghosts swarmed around a vine of tomatoes, a box of raspberries, a PopCbips bag. A crowd closed in on her, jeering, swarming, biting at the top of her head and at her fingers as she tried to collect her groceries. One reached out a hand and encircled her throat with her fingers…

She coughed at the pressure. What was happening? That shouldn’t have been possible, but there was Racquel, wheezing on the front path.

I stretched my hand out in the direction of the ghosts, my reflexes too strong to ignore.

And something happened.

I’ve never had a great handle on how my magic works, largely because it’s hard to test it. That was the first time I did something huge with it, though—the first time I blasted a crater through a building.

It happened more slowly than I would have imagined,