The Thief (21 page)

“
She’s human,” he said
distastefully. “So I’m a hybrid. Who knows how my powers will
actually turn out? That’s why I have to study,” he said stiffly,
flipping open another book. “Somewhere in here, there has to be a
book that talks about controlling Mirrormaker powers. This tower
was built by Mirrormakers - every one that’s powerful enough to get
In Between has added on to it. There’s even a workshop upstairs
full of unfinished mirrors. One of them has to have left some sort
of instruction manual.”

I ran my hand over the page of the book I
held, savoring the texture of aged paper. “So I’m a Grimm,
huh?”

“
Like your father and
grandmother before you. Hunters,” he muttered, attention on his own
book. “I shouldn’t even let you stay in here...”

“
Let
me?” I echoed, some of the alien bravado rising.

“
We’re practically
archenemies by birth,” he went on, ignoring me. “Or did you miss
the parts where my great-great-grandfather nearly succeeded in
killing off all the human master bloodlines?”

“
But you’re not him, right?”
I said.

His gaze flicked up to mine, briefly. “This
is the only side of the mirror I’ve ever known. If I can create a
travelling mirror, cross over to my father’s kingdom in the
Afterlands, I can prove my worthiness as his heir. I’ll be king one
day. All I have to do is work out my powers. But there’s no one
here to teach me, no clues as to what’s wrong with me...”

“
Well it says here every
Mirrormaker has a Null to go along with it,” I said.

“
Don’t remind me.” He came
around the table and leaned over my shoulder to retrieve the book.
My heart gave an awkward lurch at the nearness. He smelled like
pine and old books.

“
You’re not happy you have a
counterpart out there somewhere?” I said. “It sounds pretty
romantic.”

He gazed down at me, challenging. “It’s
anything but,” he said. “The Tailors have been the bane of my house
since...since who knows when. Regardless, it doesn’t apply to me.
Being a hybrid must have messed it up somehow.”

“
You don’t know
that.”

“
John Tailor is the last of
his line,” he said. “My family has kept close tabs on the Tailors
for obvious reasons. Would have hunted them to extinction if they
hadn’t escaped the Afterlands. They’ve never been very prolific -
he’s an only child, and he’s never been married. There are no
Tailors my age.”

A chill went through me. Everything I
learned about his family kept piling more doubts against his
motives. His inheritance was oppression and privilege. But there
was something in his desperation to prove himself that I
understood.

“
Guess you’re not a
Mirrormaker then,” I said lightly.

His eyes widened. “Don’t you dare - ”

“
I was joking!” I grinned.
“Jeez, lighten up!”

The flush that spread across his cheeks was
almost as endearing as the way he tried to hide it, looking up and
away, trying for haughty. “You’re as bad as Kei.”

“
At least I’m better to look
at,” I rejoined. What was I saying? It was the Tower
talking.

“
There is that,” he allowed,
and it was my turn to blush. I hoped it wouldn’t be as obvious
since I wasn’t as pale as he was.

“
Why do you hang out with
Kei?” I asked.

“
I don’t,” he said flatly.
“I’m obligated to endure his presence. He’s...my bodyguard,” he
said, reluctance plain in his voice.

“
What, seriously?” I looked
up at him.

“
Yes, seriously.” He leaned
against a bookshelf, arms folded, mouth in a hard line. “My mother
is a little overprotective.”

“
Because you’re the prince
of a fairy kingdom,” I prompted.

“
How can I get you to never
word it like that again?” he asked dryly, one eyebrow
arched.

I smiled, and he looked away, eyes on the
far wall. “I have an idea,” I said suddenly. “What if I helped you
research?”

He looked back, eyes wide, but immediately
his expression was cautious. “In trade for the journal, I
assume?”

“
I’ll be your research
assistant,” I said, folding my arms, enjoying the strange new
confidence. “If I can help you figure out how to make a traveling
mirror, that’s got to be worth one journal?”

“
Maybe...” he allowed,
struggling not to sound tempted by the idea. “I suppose I
could...use another pair of eyes...”

I looked at my watch and gasped. “I need to
get home before Bea,” I said, turning to leave.

Rhys caught my arm, looking down at me
intently. My heart thudded. “Remember,” he said, “if you tell
anyone - anyone at all - the deal is off. If you try to take
anything out of here - I don’t care what it is - the deal is off.
Understand? My hospitality is extremely limited.”

“
No kidding,” I laughed off
my nerves. “Alright, yes, I promise. Don’t tell anyone. Got
it.”

“
Especially Kei,” he
growled. “I have to share too much of my life with that moron
already. My only saving grace is that he can’t get in this mirror.
Bodyguard or not, I trust him about as far as I can throw him. And
don’t talk to me at school,” he said, releasing me. “We’re not
friends. This is strictly business.”

I got the distinct impression he was trying
just a little too hard to remain detached. “Sure thing, your
highness,” I said, hurrying out of the library and down the
stairwell.

“
And don’t call me that!” he
called after me, but I smiled, because he didn’t sound hostile
anymore.

Chapter 12

Jul

On Friday at 6, I pushed open the doors to
the cafe where Camille had claimed she lived.

“
Um, hello?” I called,
entering timidly. The booths and tables said cafe, but the stained
glass windows were giving a different impression. The arches over
the pillars were familiar, somehow...

The wide, gothic windows were abstract
patterns of glass. The fading sun glittered through the west side,
casting a faint orange light. One of the windows had plastic taped
over it.

Camille’s bizarre accent, clipped syllables
and unusual vowels, echoed from the back of the cafe. “It broke,”
she said. “Yesterday. Random.”

Camille hopped over the bar, landing agile
as a cat. There was no way I could ever look that graceful. I
recalled Rhys’s mention of physical prowess as a sign of being
feral. Was Camille such a being?

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “It
looks nice in here,” I said. My intent was to be polite, but I was
being honest. It was an unusual aesthetic, but it managed to work
somehow - like bringing Athens or Rome indoors.

She shrugged. “It’s Gabriel,” she said, like
that ought to explain everything.

“
Who’s Gabriel?” I
asked.

“
My guardian,” she
said.

“
Oh is he here?” Guardian?
What about her parents?

“
Drinks with Charlotte,” she
said, dismissively. “The booth is over here.”

“
Charlotte? You mean Ms.
Miller?” Her English was improving, I noted, though her
pronunciation was still pretty awkward.

“
Un
,” she made an affirmative sound. I followed her to one side
of the cafe, where a tri-fold posterboard was propped up on a
table. She’d printed out some sheets with the basic experiment
premise and some rough diagrams of each step of the process. It was
plain and efficient. It had no personality at all. I wondered if it
could be taken as a metaphor for Camille herself: something that
ought to be really cool masked by a blunt, utilitarian
presentation.

“
You know what it really
needs,” I blurted, “some of your drawings!”

“
What?” she said, coloring
slightly.

“
Yeah! You draw those
adorable little cartoons, we could make the display like a comic!
Nobody else would have anything like that,” I said
earnestly.

“
They’re not that cute,” she
muttered, but she regarded the posterboard critically. “Not very
protectional.”

“
Professional? You mean like
what Rhys would want? Oh no, I think he would looooove some anime
cartoons on his project.” I grinned at the prospect. “Don’t
you?”

She looked at me like she was seeing me for
the first time, and she smiled. “Maybe you’re right,” she said.

“
It’s showcasing our team’s
artistic talent,” I said loftily. “With hearts and
sparkles.”

She nodded, tapping her chin. “Ok, I like
it.”

I grinned. “Awesome. I can’t draw to save my
life, but I can color stuff in. I mean, the project is about color
change, right? We should have some really bright designs.”

She nodded, uncharacteristically
enthusiastic. “Colors. Be right back.”

She bounded up the stairs at the back of the
cafe, where I assumed there were craft supplies.

I sat down, gazing at the colored windows
happily. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. I guess all
Camille really needed was to be included...I’d always thought I was
supposed to wait for others to include me. Maybe I’d had it
wrong?

I started counting the colors in the glass
pane closest to me. Rhys was going to flip. We should probably fit
in some rainbows just for good measure...

A metallic sound came from the front of the
cafe - the sound of a lock clicking open. Someone slipped inside,
brushing rain drops off his threadbare jean jacket. It was another
student, one with a very delinquent look to him. The scar across
his nose crinkled as he regarded me narrowly.

“
Um, it’s, I think the cafe
is closed,” I said, newfound confidence disappearing just that
quickly.

“
Didn’t come in for
cupcakes,” he said, the ring in his lip glittering as he grinned.
“Unless you’re offering.”

I swallowed. “Wh-who are you?”

“
Hmm.” It was one of the
seniors - no, a junior? I’d seen him around before. That scar was
hard to miss. He was the one that often picked on Mac at
lunch.

He looked at me like I was some sort of
dessert. “I’ve had a bad week,” he said, with a pronounced southern
drawl. “Maybe you can help me out. Tell me where Katsura’s hidden
the sword and maybe I’ll leave all polite-like.”

“
Sword?” I repeated, boggled
by the random request. “What sword? Who’s Katsura?”

He advanced, and I backed
up. “Please. You’re a Graham and you made friends with
her
? And you’re
pretending you don’t know about the sword? Why else would you have
made friends with that freak of nature?”

“
I think you should leave,”
I said, voice trembling.

“
Give. Me. The SWORD!” he
roared suddenly.

Camille

Camille heard him before he even opened the
door. He had a distinct step - impatient, over-forceful. Wasteful.
That mongrel, Hyde. What could he possibly want here? Oh yes, she
remembered. The boy in love with Jul had warned her Hyde would try
to fight her.

She stood at the top of the stairs, just out
of view, listening.

“
Tell me where Katsura’s
hidden the sword and maybe I’ll leave all polite-like,” Hyde
said.

Sword? Camille wondered, even as she heard
Jul echo her question below. Gabriel had no swords. He’d already
said. What was with these people demanding a weapon they didn’t
have?

“
Please,” Hyde was saying
sarcastically. Camille could hear Jul’s heart rate speeding up.
“You’re a Graham and you made friends with
her
?” His disdain was palpable. “And
you’re pretending you don’t know about the sword? Why else would
you have made friends with that freak of nature?”

What? Was Jul just using her? Gabriel had
warned that there would be those seeking to use them to their own
ends...

“
I think you should leave,”
Jul said. Her fear was tangible.
No,
Camille shook her head.
She wouldn’t use me. She’s not that kind of
person.

“
Give. Me. The SWORD!” Hyde
bellowed, and she had enough.

“
Yamerou!
” she shouted, vaulting over
the stairs.

Hyde grinned. “I figured you were here.
Coming to the aid of fair maiden? Don’t be a cliché, now.”

Camille settled into a
defensive stance. Rain was pattering on the windows. “I’ll shut
your mouth,
zasshu.
”

He laughed. “Man, school needs more people
like you. I’m going to assume you won’t give up the sword easy,
either?”

“
No sword here,” Camille
stated.

“
Awesome,” he said, swinging
at her.

Camille dodged, spinning around the pillar.
In her periphery, she saw Jul duck behind the counter. Good, better
that she stayed out of it. Gabriel wouldn’t like it if she smashed
up the cafe, but he was also fond of saying that necessity was the
mother of invention.

Camille kicked a chair at him, but he slid
to one side. Was it just her imagination, or was he faster than
before? He swept a kick and she blocked it, barely - he nearly
knocked her off balance. He struck out with a fist and she caught
it with her own, straining against the force. Stronger, too?