The Moment Electric
YES, YES, YES! She didn’t know if that was her or Emma’s voice, but it didn’t matter because this was what she wanted, perhaps was even why she’d been created. Blood singing, Elizabeth lunged for the blank rock wall immediately to her left. Her palm was still bleeding, but already the muscles were wriggling, the edges of her skin worming and sewing themselves together. Her arms writhed, and as waves of energy swirled, she felt the hard ridges and lumpy pillows of her many scars begin to soften and disappear. They were all there now, the many pieces perched at the front of her mind, clamoring for release, and none stronger than Emma and her shadows. The pull was immense, this imperative to let go a tidal surge.
Go! Slamming the rock with her hands, she cried out, the moment electric, her back arching. At once, she felt them streaming from her fingertips, all the pieces gushing like high water loosed from a dam. Her pulse was thundering, her heart smashing her ribs, and she thought the rest, gathered round the bodies, were still screaming, and Meme loudest of all: “No, no, no, I will not let you!” The inside of her skull ached with a lancing pain that shot from her forehead to the top of her spine, and yet her consciousness ballooned, that mind’s eye widening like a pupil until all that remained was a huge expanse: like a night sky with no stars. Her mind was clearing, the cobwebs tearing apart, as if someone had finally decided to sweep back a pair of heavy curtains, open the windows, and let in light and fresh air.
And she thought, Go, Emma, go! Hurry!
No reply. Although she didn’t think the girl was completely gone. She might never be, if it was true that every essence—a whisper, as Rima would’ve called it—left its mark.
But she got her answer when, around her, the cavern groaned. Stone bucked and heaved under her feet, but unlike the quakes, there was no loud crack or bang of stressed rock giving way. This was like riding heavy swells in a sleek kayak.
Kayak. That must be an Emma-thought. Because I don’t know how that feels, or what a kayak is. I’ve never seen the sea. Under her hands, the rock was shimmering, the ripples spreading wider and wider in a mirror image of that mind’s eye, and it was happening fast, within seconds: the stone smoothing, growing glassy and black.
Almost there. It was Emma, a remnant anyway, still with her. Elizabeth, when the Mirror opens, you have to get out of the way fast. If you’re pulled in …
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “Only say when.”
Just a few more … The black-mirror rock suddenly seethed, and then she felt the give under her hands. Way’s opening, Emma said. The cynosure ought to …
A roar: “What are you doing?”