The Pentrals (24 page)

“Violet, I—“ Ben starts, but something catches the corner of his eye. Thomas is climbing aboard.

He stares, eyes magnified behind his glasses, unwilling to believe what he sees. Ben and I spring apart, our actions clearly in the wrong. I have no right, holding his hand that way. Even if I want to be close to Ben, it is just not meant to be. Not like this, here in Violet’s body, and certainly not in a few hours, when I’m sent back to my Shadowy self. I had my time to be human a lifetime ago, to love and make choices freely. Whatever decisions I made then brought me here now, to this Pentral reality. I have one last chance to make amends and I need to stay focused, no matter how tempting a spark may be.

“Guys?” Thomas asks, voiced tinged with suspicion. I don’t even know what to say. He saw us holding hands. There is no good defense. It’s not like I can tell him how I’m not really his girlfriend, just an imposter wearing her face. That he should not take anything I do seriously.

“I think this one’s getting seasick. I was trying to calm her down. You better take care of her,” Ben says, nudging me toward Thomas. As he releases his hand from mine, the warmth leaves my body, and I am extra chilled by Thomas’ icy stare. He has every right to be upset. I just hope Violet can set things straight later.

I excuse myself and disappear into the yacht’s cabin. I feel guilt for creating such a mess back there, but I have to keep my mind focused on my task. Keeping the boys at a distance will help me keep my emotions in check. Inside the cabin, the rocking of the waves becomes more apparent, and I have to sit to keep myself steady. Despite the yacht’s exterior shine, the interior is much darker, with plush velvet cushions lining the walls. I run my fingers over the fabric, taking note of its distinct texture. It is not as inviting as Violet’s fluffy bedding, but I’ll take this comfort over the altercation happening on deck.

I hear Ben and Thomas fighting, though I can’t make out their words. It’s strange to hear them raising their voices at one another. I turn away from the cabin’s window so I don’t have to see them angry—it’s one memory I’d rather not capture. It’s dark in the room, so I cannot see Violet either; still, I look down at my feet and mouth, “Sorry.”

The voices outside start to soften, but all is not completely quiet. The yacht has a lower, underwater level for sleeping and storage, and from behind the door I hear another pair of voices, male and female, debating. They grow in intensity, throwing inaudible barbs back and forth, until suddenly the argument comes to a halt and stomping footsteps race up the stairs.

I panic, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, but there’s nowhere to hide in the tiny compartment. Instead, I head back toward the upper deck and just as I open the door, Mr. Kelly appears.

His face is hard and pale, drained of its usual golden hue. He is dressed more casually than recent memory, in a loose-fitting linen shirt and light khaki shorts. His eyes widen upon seeing me and my face reddens at the unintended invasion of privacy.

“Violet,” Mr. Kelly says, his voice much calmer than it was down below. “Welcome aboard. Are you… looking for something?”

“Um, the bathroom?” I stammer. “It’s down below, right?” I can’t think of another reason why my Person would need to be in here when her friends are outside.

“Yes.” He looks toward the door with tension in his eyes, as if wandering below would reveal deep, incriminating secrets. I can tell from his stiff body movements that he doesn’t want me going down there, but cannot come up with a reasonable excuse in time. “Celestia is down there now,” he fidgets. “You may want to wait a minute.”

Celestia Sky is onboard? She is the woman he was arguing with? Why? Shouldn’t she be gloating about town, parading her elegance? I would think this would be her ultimate moment to shine, yet here she is, hidden away from the attention she craves. I know she is a family friend, but it seems weird to have her here. And what could she and William possibly fight about?

“Oh, sure, no problem,” I answer.

He breaths a small sigh of relief. “Well, I’d better get ready to set sail. See you out there?”

“Definitely.” I wait for him to leave and then race down the stairs. I don’t want to wait; I want to know what happened down there. Perhaps Mr. Kelly, one of the most powerful Persons in Talline, made an effort to stand up against Celestia’s hold on the city. That is something I’d like to see.

It’s even darker down below, with only a few portholes allowing sunlight to peek through. Artificial light seeps out under the closed bathroom door. I hear sniffling and shuffling from inside the room, and I walk right up to the door, ready to pounce once she appears.

Celestia opens the door and gasps when she sees me. She looks awful, completely unlike the perfect creature who graces the town’s holopanes. It’s almost like her Reflection jumped out of the mirror and onto her body. Her lustrous dark skin is covered in bruises. A tangle of hair replaces her normally effortless black waves. Her white cotton dress, torn at the shoulder, does nothing to emphasize the legendary curves underneath. It looks like something she would wear to clean her house, not to attend the city’s biggest celebration. She looks positively wrecked.

At first, I feel satisfied to see her fall from grace, victorious in knowing that even the untouchable Celestia Sky can have a bad day. But then I notice how the left side of her face is freshly swollen, a welt growing by the minute. It’s different from the swelling I’ve seen in the mirror; this is real, a contusion sensitive to the touch. No mirripulation brought this on; this is a wound inflicted by a Person. Only one action could have ended their argument so quickly.

Mr. Kelly hit her.

I don’t understand and can’t think of what to say. Celestia is quiet as well, all her words used up moments ago. I run over to the sink and wet a cloth with cold water, pressing it to her face. Whatever went on down here, Celestia clearly lost.

She gives a tiny sigh of relief, feeling the cool cloth on her skin. I want to interrogate her, find out what happened, but she looks so tired, so unable to do anything but nurse her wound, that I don’t press her. Still, she seems to see the questions on my face, and says in an impossibly hushed voice, “We can’t all match his perfection.”

“He did this to you?” I whisper.

She looks at me; eyes drained of honey and replaced with steel. Her lips start to move, but her voice is so quiet, I can barely hear her response. “He does this to all of us.”

I don’t know how to respond. Everything is turning upside down, rocking back and forth like the waves of the lake. I think of that afternoon at Clarion Café, Celestia’s parting words ringing in my ears.
You don’t know the half of it, baby
. Was this what she was implying? That from behind her perfect pedestal, someone else was pulling the strings? Pieces of the puzzle start clicking into place, a bigger picture slowly taking shape. Mr. Kelly is without a doubt the most powerful man in Talline. A beloved celebrity, revered for his medical advances, he helps the sick and the needy, but he doesn’t stop there. Even though I only recently found out, I guess it’s no secret he’s also the driving force behind
Lifts!
on which most of the population so dearly depends. And they
love
him for it. He helps them escape, find peace in a world of reflected horrors, but without all the mirrors, would they even need his help? Would everyone be so desperate to disappear if their images weren’t such a constant presence?

Through the mirrors, Reflections hunt their prey, leaving Persons enslaved to a lifetime of negative self-images. If Mr. Kelly found a way to control them, to make them exact his will, he would be the sole beneficiary, with an entire city lining up to buy his product for relief. It cannot be a coincidence that the legal age to purchase
Lifts!
is the same time the Reflections turn on their freak shows. And just in case the Reflections weren’t reminder enough of everyone’s incompetence, he uses beautiful Celestia, one of the only Persons to ever grace a holopane, to further the downward spirals. He has a hold over the one Person who has a hold over the rest of us, making him the ultimate puppet master.

I know I’m supposed to spend the morning touring the lake, but suddenly I want off this yacht more than anything. I feel unsafe, trapped on a vessel with a man who could so cleverly mask his true intentions. All this time I never suspected his treatment toward Celestia, never even knew his company was behind the
Lifts!
so prevalent in this city. How has Mr. Kelly pulled this off, the manipulation of not just Talline, but the souls of the Pentral realm?

I open my mouth to say something, but Celestia presses a tired finger to her lips. “Go,” she gestures. “You can’t let him know you’ve seen me. It will only make things worse.” I nod, not wanting to leave her in her fragile state, but abiding by her request. I head upstairs, ready to run back on shore, but the yacht is already pulling out from the dock.

Outside, I do my best to eliminate all traces of the scene I just witnessed. Ben and Thomas, not fighting but also not speaking, do not acknowledge my return. We watch the Festival of Light from the water. From this vantage point, I see giant glass prisms have been constructed all along the lakefront, sending the water’s sparkling surface ricocheting throughout the buildings ashore. Everything glitters. Everything is bright. It is so much light, I have trouble focusing. Through a pained squint, I reach into my bag and pull out Mary’s glasses. The purple lenses help block some of the glare, but it is still a challenge to see clearly.

In fact, I continue squinting because it appears something rather odd is happening on shore. It is faint, and hard to detect through the brilliance of the mirrors, but it seems like there is a haze hanging over the skyline. Above is a spotless blanket of blue, no clouds for miles, and yet a mist, barely perceptible, looms across the entire city.

“What’s with the mist?” I ask no one in particular. The three of us are standing against the boat’s rail, the tension leaving miles between us.

Thomas looks at me like I’ve asked the stupidest question of all time. “C’mon Violet, you know what that is.” I shake my head. He grimaces in frustration. “Why do you think Mr. Kelly always takes us out here before the Festival? To avoid the
Lift!
cloud. He wants us to enjoy ourselves without chemical enhancement.” He turns away from me, shoulders hunched over the railing.

I turn back and stare at the city in disbelief.
Lifts!
, in vaporized form. I knew they could be liquidized, infused in drinks and food, but never realized they could be ingested through the air. I notice now how the people look so happy, much different from when we left. Before the mist was released, all the citizens looked as if it physically pained them to participate in a public function, but now, under the
Lift!
cloud, everyone is letting loose, happily breathing the vapor into their lungs. It isn’t the first time either. At the FreshView anniversary party, all the guests were ecstatic, buzzing with positive energy. I remember the couple that crashed into us, laughing like madmen. There must have been a cloud then too, one Thomas and I just missed due to our late arrival. It all makes sense now. I wondered how a party revolving around mirrors could be enjoyable, and now I know.

Mr. Kelly steps out from the yacht’s steering wheel. “Enjoying the scenery?” he calls out joyfully. Unfortunately for him, his passengers are not currently sharing his enthusiasm. No one answers, our backs turned. The sound of his voice makes me want to vomit.

“What’s going on, guys? Where is the happy Alliance?” Mr. Kelly jokes. He is clearly proud of himself for knowing about the group’s code name.

“Dad, seriously,” Ben mutters, rolling his eyes in embarrassment.

“What? What’s going on?” he pushes.

“It’s nothing, Mr. Kelly, thanks for your hospitality,” Thomas says.

“Violet, are these boys giving you—“ he stops when his eyes meet my face. In an instant, his face is wiped clean of exuberance, replaced with venom. His sing-song voice drops an octave, his eyes lose their whimsy. “I see you found your glasses,” he says.

“Oh, yes,” I answer, touching the frames nervously. I try my best not to face him, unsure if I will be able to keep my emotions contained.

“Where, if I may ask, did you find them?” he asks. His curiosity in the glasses is beyond casual interest. I think back to the day I tore through Mary’s room looking for them, how Mr. Kelly’s expression changed from welcoming to disapproving. Had he been looking for the glasses himself, hoping no one else would find them?

“Just where I left them,” I respond vaguely. I don’t know how open Mary was about her personal life with her dad, but I certainly don’t want to share possible secrets now.

“So that’s what we were looking for?” Ben calls out. Thomas shoots him a look, as if even talking to his girlfriend is a violation now. “Sheesh, they should have stayed hidden,” he comments on the glasses’ unusual design.

“They get the job done,” I say flatly. I know what he’s doing—trying to be cute, to diffuse the tension. But I’d rather the subject of conversation move away from the one thing that is going to save my existence.
Stupid Antares
, I think,
I should have left them in the bag
.

“Let me see,” Ben says, taking the glasses off my face.

“No! Don’t do that!” I call out.

“Why not?” he teases.

“Dude, she said stop,” Thomas interjects, looking for any excuse to stay mad.

“Will you two relax? I’m just trying them on.” He slides the bulky black frames over his ears. “How do I look?” he asks, striking a pose.

“Ridiculous. Now give them back,” I demand.

Ben turns to me, laughing, then stops dead in his tracks. His expression morphs from one of amusement to confusion, like he doesn’t understand what he’s seeing. Moments ago, palm to palm, he looked deep into my eyes, almost as if he was seeing through to my soul—not Violet’s, but mine. Antares. Now, with eyebrows furrowed and mouth agape, he looks like he’s in total shock.

Mary’s glasses, designed to show images for what they really are, to pull back the curtain on Pentral deceit—is Ben seeing double in me? It can’t be a superimposed image of Violet’s skin and the Shadow living within, can it?