A red siren materializes to the right of us. It hovers above, wailing.
Emma claws my cheek.
“Shit!”I yelp, jerking back before she draws blood.
“S-sorry,” she sputters, quickly pulling her hands back with a gasp. Emma’s face twists with pain as the siren wails again. “The bloodlust, Malcolm! The Tether is screaming at me to punch you until your head splits into bloody chunks.” Tears stream down her cheeks.
Whoa. How am I even supposed to respond to that? I need Emma close because I don’t want to lose her in this treacherous maze. But I’ve gotta be careful until she can get herself together. I try to grab her hand and pull her forward, away from here, but she won’t let me.
Emma grunts, palms still on her ears. “Malcolm, leave! The Tether wants me to rip the skin off your bones!” she shouts, her voice shaking. “I’m scared! What if I lose control?”
Before I can respond, the siren sounds again.
Suddenly, the urge to fight is almost overwhelming. My fingers tremble as I battle the dark impulses to strike her that grow stronger with each roar of the siren. My head throbs under the strain of holding back. I press my fingers to my temples, willing the evil thoughts to fade. I see Emma crying and struggling under the weight of the curse. And for a second, I like it.
I try to push away the feeling, the bloodlust, knowing it’s all part of Sabine’s game. I close my eyes and focus on my love for Emma, determined to protect her and us. I want to be her everything, not be her end. But against my will, my eyes drift to a knife fallen by a nearby flower bed, longing to slit her throat and watch the blood ooze down her beautiful brown flesh. I close my eyes to shake off the grisly thoughts.Stop it, Malcolm! That’s the curse, that demonic sound, not you. Don’t let it win.
My eyes lock on the siren again, its shrieks making the urges worse. Spotting a massive rock in the flower bed, I hurl it at the thing.
The stone smashes the siren into quiet pieces on the path. The violent urges subside a bit. Emma’s shoulders relax, and she breathes normally again.
“Thank God,” Emma says. “I was about to lose it.”
“We’ll be okay,” I assure her, extending my hand. But my words feel untrue. “We just gotta fight off the bad urges, and we gotta stick together. Right?”
Sweating, Emma takes my hand. “Yeah,” she responds, but it comes out uncertain. It sounds like a lie.
“I love you,” I whisper, the words burning my throat.
But Emma doesn’t seem to hear.
We cautiously walk ahead, finding ourselves on a carpet of moss and clover in the maze. We pivot and turn, seeing our reflections return to the mirrored walls again. They multiply. A million of them stand in formation like soldiers. They stare at us with static-filled eyes, their hands gripping blades as their tight black catsuits glow an eerie green. One of Emma’s doppelgängers steps out of the mirror, wearing a wicked grin. She lunges toward me, swinging a knife. I stagger back.
Now, one of my evil twins jumps out of the mirror and charges Emma, swinging a dagger. I struggle, trying to protect her and myself.
Emma’s evil twin lunges at me with a glinting knife in her hand. My legs shake from my clumsy dodge, and I feel the wind from her blade brush against my cheek. I barely miss being cut. Other demented images of us laugh from the walls of mirrors, their faces dark and scary.
Her resemblance to Emma makes me hesitate, but I snap out of that quick when her blade gets dangerously close to killing me. I swing my fist, aiming for Emma’s evil double’s beautiful face. Before the blow can land, her body dissolves into shadows that swirl around me like smoke. She solidifies behind me and kicks me in the back, laughing.
The real Emma yelps as she struggles against my evil twin. “Malcolm, h-help!” she sputters, flailing against a chokehold. Seeing the fear and desperation in her eyes, I fight harder. Fake Emma is in front of me now, swinging her blade. I’ve gotta escape her so I can help the real Emma. “I’m coming!” I call to her.
Something shimmers over Emma’s head. Her hand glows with a pulsing light as she summons stardust. It spins like a glowing snowball above her palm, and she lobs it over her shoulder. It almost hits my evil double. He dodges the blast, but his grip on her neck loosens.
Emma wiggles out, turns, and kicks him in his guts. As I struggle to fight Emma’s double, I manage to kick him in his side too. The real Emma starts gasping for breath, her face smeared with dirt and sweat, but there’s a fire in her eyes that excites me.
Emma’s evil double keeps swinging knives. I have to swivel and swerve to avoid being sliced like fresh peaches. Her eyes glitter with static electricity. “I share more than Emma’s face,” the double taunts. “I share her thoughts. Emma doesn’t love you. She used you as a tool to escape her family. To try to end the Tether… and now, to stay alive in this game.” Her smile is just like Emma’s as she aims for my throat and misses. “You should know the truth before you die.”
“Liar!” I shout. But I wonder if she’s telling the truth. Part of me wants to lash out at her—at the real Emma—for the fact that my family has been captured and they could die. Jayla could die hating me. If I’d never fallen for Emma, never risked running away with her, none of this would have happened.Stop it, Malcolm!This isn’t Emma’s fault. This is what the Tetherwants. It wants us turning on each other, killing each other. Billy said Sabine messes with your mind.
These thoughts must be because of her, or it’s my bloodlust clouding my judgment, making me question Emma’s motives. I take a kick to the stomach from evil Emma, and the impact forces me to stumble back. My vision blurs for a moment, but I push through the pain, refusing to let her win. Real Emma’s scream pierces the chaos, and I see my double yank her up by her hair.
“Malcolm’s using you,” he taunts, his voice oozing spite. “He wants to play with your heart and your body before killing you.”
Real Emma’s eyes fill with a pain deeper than any he could cause with his dagger.
“He’s lying!” I shout, dodging a sharp blade and struggling to defeat evil Emma so I can help the real one. My double slams real Emma to the ground and stands over her with his static-filled eyes gleaming, a smile on his lips. Cheers sound from the mirror as other evil reflections of us chant, “Finish her!” and “Kill, kill, kill!”
Emma conjures stardust and slams it toward him, but fake me dissolves into swirling shadows, causing her to miss her target. He solidifies and raises his knife.
