“What are you doing here?” Finn asked, his voice more menacing than I’d ever heard it.
There was a slight ringing in my ears and a nauseous churning in my stomach. It rolled, seasick with fear. I knew this man. This being.
Before, I’d claimed I’d never spoken to him, but now, the memories of our interactions opened before me like seedlings sprouting from the thawed spring ground. One. Two. Three.
The first time was the day I became a nine. It was my fourth birthday. I’d been running down the hallway after my blue rubber ball. I’d dropped it, and it had bounced ahead of me. My shoe was untied, and I’d nearly tripped as I’d raced to catch it. Then, a shadow had stepped from the stone wall, and the man had stopped my ball with his booted foot. I’d cowered under his probing stare, hating the cold, inhuman feel of him.
“Careful,” he’d said, his voice like the grinding of bones to ash. “We don’t want you to fall.”
I’d snatched the ball and run away. Hours later, I’d fallen down the stairs and died my first death.
The second time I saw him, I was eight years old. He’d slipped from Jagger’s office like a rock breaking off a cliff wall. I’d recognized him before I’d seen his face. The feel of being near to him was the same: a nauseous, primordial fear that left me weak-kneed, breaking into a cold sweat, with every instinct screaming that this thing was so antihuman, so antilife, I must run.
I couldn’t. I’d been frozen, pressed to the wall, shaking with terror. He’d known I was there—I could feel his attention. But he hadn’t slowed, turned, or acknowledged me as he’d slid through the hall, leaving Hell Gate. Minutes later, Jagger had found me, and I’d almost wept at his cold, familiar, rocklike feel.
Jagger had been in a rage. He’d sent me to the Clark’s, where I’d failed to do what he asked, so he’d chained me to a brick wall for days. And then I’d met Finn for the first time.
The last time I saw this man was the day Justice became a mine. He’d been there while Justice was still coming back to himself, chained in the conjurer’s cage. I’d watched as he slipped from the basement, wondering what he’d said to Justice or what he’d done. He’d seen me shiver at his passing. When he did, he’d paused and said in that same creaky bone-to-ashes voice, “Are you afraid of me, or are you afraid of what’s in the mirror?”
I knew better than to answer, and so I’d stayed quiet, hushing my heartbeat.
His mouth was too wide for a human. It was as if he’d been a fish caught on a hook and someone had ripped the edges of his mouth all the way to his ears, trying to free the lure.
He’d smiled at me, his lips pulling wide. “The world is your mirror. It reflects your soul. What you see is what you are. What I am is what you’ll be. Don’t believe me?”
I’d held my breath, not wanting to breathe in his musty-cave scent.
He’d laughed. “You’ll see. You’re going to destroy the world on the back of good intentions. Enjoy your time as a nine. It won’t last long.”
I hadn’t seen him again—until now.
I knew what he was. He was a mine.
Like he’d said, he was me . . . or he was what I’d become.
“What are you doing here?” Finn had asked. If this weren’t a dream, then that meant Finn knew this mine. How?
The mine—I didn’t know his name—had shiny, milky-gray skin and a grotesquely wide mouth. His arms were too long, like a leggerock’s, and his skin hung off him like clothes two sizes too big. He was bald like a leggerock too, but his eyes were humanlike instead of the flat gray of Jagger’s.
He didn’t look at Finn or Luvic—he only watched me, taking a slow breath through his nostrils. They fanned wide, like a toad’s quivering at sunset.
“I’m always here,” he said, still staring. The weight of his gaze pressed on my abdomen, churning my stomach, making me nauseous. His probing was igniting venomous sparks in my blood, causing it to foam and hiss. Jagger’s blood had never felt so strong here, as if it were being awakened by the nearness of this mine.
I couldn’t hold back the small whimper that tripped from my throat.
At the pained sound, Luvic snarled and stepped forward.
The mine shifted in his wooden seat, blinking at Luvic. “You . . .” His mouth pulled down. “What’s that? A bit of Bard? A bit of hell?” Luvic’s hackles rose at the mine’s scraping laugh. “Very good. Very good try. But no. You are nothing.” He flicked his hand at Luvic like he was flicking a spray of water.
Before Finn or I could move, Luvic collapsed. His giant form hit the concrete floor. He yelped and convulsed once. Then he disappeared.
I stepped forward, reaching for weapons I didn’t have. Finn touched my arm, and I stopped at the gentle warning. He shook his head.
The mine smiled, leaning against the wooden back of his chair like a creature without bones.
“What is it you want?” Finn asked. His form was tense, but his voice was steady, the menacing aggression gone.
I looked around the room. The walls were concrete-gray. The floors were concrete-gray. The ceiling was lined with long fluorescent tubes. The door we’d walked in through had disappeared. We were trapped.
