The others were focused, jumping and reaching one mask then the other, searching. I didn’t see March anywhere when I looked around—must have been searching somewhere behind a partition, but there was no time to waste. Whatever way they’d gotten our memories on these masks like this, whatever sick, twisted games they were playing with us, the finish line was near.
So, I jumped, and the next time I grabbed a mask, I expected the change, so it didn’t shock me like the first.
A field of silver grass shimmered beneath a storm-black sky. Whoever’s eyes I was looking out from turned to look to the sides. Far in the distance I could see a jagged line in the dark—buildings, possibly, but the field stretched so far I couldn’t be sure.
Someone was behind where I was standing, and…
“There.” The voice was unfamiliar, but the eyes I looked out of moved ahead, and I realized that the grass wasn’t silver—it was actually a rich green, but it was coated with something thin, something shimmery, almost like the thick dust in the ballroom.
Except this wasn’t dust.
This was Sparetime—that’s what the inside of the mind I was in at the moment identified it as.
And what I was looking at across the field weren’t men at all.
Timewraiths.
A sense of fear gripped my insides, and I felt like I wanted to scream. My mouth opened—no.The mouth of whoever I was looking from opened, but before they could scream, that same voice called from behind—“Run, Russ! Ring the alarm!”
I let go of the mask and sucked in a deep breath, thankful to see the ballroom just now, because the fear had been so real. It had attached itself to my bones and it took me a few deep breaths to convince myself that I wasn’t staring at a field covered in Sparetime, and an army of timewraiths weren’t coming at me from the other side.
I got this,I whispered to myself, and I prayed with all of me that the next mask I touched wasmine.Something about being in the heads of the other Hands. Something about seeing those memories, feeling those feelings.
I would rather run laps and spar all day, every day.
A small scream escaped me when I jumped for the next mask, and it wasn’t my memory, either.
I was in the back of a dark kitchen lit only by candlelight, and I was…dancing.
Every movement of my body was perfectly precise. The feeling was incredible, like I was rising from within, like I wasflyingevery time my feet slid on the wooden floors that creaked lightly as I moved. There was no music in the kitchen—but I heard the melody clearly in my head. And as I spun around, my eyes caught a sign hanging on the handle of a cupboard that said—NO DANCING!
Still, I danced.
Not going to lie, it felt good to chase that distant melody in my head. The way my body was moving was otherworldly—like I was born for this. At first, I thought whoever’s mind I was in right now was a girl, but no.
Because I spun around fast and I caught a glimpse on the shiny surface of a pot hanging on the wall below a cabinet, and I recognized the face perfectly.
It was Cook.
I let go of the mask, this time deliberately, and it slid up on its thread again, right over my head.
I was breathing so heavily, my heart pounding, my muscles slightly sore like I’d really spent the past few minutes dancing like that, when I knew for a fact that I could never move with such grace. With such ease. The only time I’d felt so fullymyselflike Cook had in that memory was when I was playing hide and seek in the forest at home with Jinx and my father.
The others still searched.
March was nowhere to be seen.
Tears in my eyes as I moved a little to the side and jumped again, reluctantly, not even looking at which mask I’d grab.
The ballroom disappeared, and I found myself in a place I’d been to before, many times.
A forge, and I was spinning glass in front of a large fire, and I was smiling, so proud, so happy to be able to do such a simple thing it could have been funny.
But it wasn’t.
March had felt pure joy.
The thread snapped and Ifeltit. My eyes opened and I drew in a deep, long breath. The mask was still in my hand, no longer attached to the ceiling. I saw the ballroom, the figures dancing, jumping, and I heard the music, too. Even though the mask was still in my hand, I no longer saw the memory.
