Page 59 - DivineSparkRising II-TheMirrorofSilenceFinal

Nicholas Boothman
The frequency collapsed. The radio resumed
being a cheap kitchen trauma.
Henry leaned his forehead against the cold
window and laughed once, ugly. “She’s alive.”
Carolina folded her arms, holding herself
together. “Then we go.”
2. The Redactor’s Gift
They packed for speed. Two changes of clothes,
cash, chargers, notebooks. Henry left the chipped
blue mug on the counter and felt superstitious
about it and left it anyway.
On the stairwell, a flyer had been wedged under
the handrail: a white circle on black. The Mirror’s
brand. No text. The paper made the air look
thinner.
On the street, the city had decided to be loud
again—vendors shouting, a moped coughing
rainbow smoke, someone swearing in three
languages at a jammed parking meter. Henry
breathed easier for the first time in days.
They were two blocks from the metro when the
woman from the mezzanine stepped into their
path.
No hood now. No mirrored glasses. Just a face
so ordinary it erased itself from memory. She held
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