Coreopsis and Bottle Rockets barge into the room. Holy smokes, Kiley packs a punch. Not just for my nostrils, either, as witnessed by the kaleidoscopic glory beaming toward Dreyna. Without Barry to buffer the light show, it dances exuberantly free into the hallway, intensified by the mirrors lining the walls.

Dreyna cuts the stream, her hand wielding a water brand. It’s sapphire blue, circular on the outside, with singular dots filling the expanse. A strainer. Apt.

Kiley gasps. “What happened here?”

“You need to leave Hotel Looking Glass. She is not safe.”

“Minor problem with that,” Kiley announces. “We can’t find Brody.”

I’m not used to seeing her up in arms. She’s always animated, but not this stress-fueled toe-tapper version prancing in front of me.

“You’re wet,” she states the obvious, “and this room stinks. Get changed while your friend clues me in.”

“Where’s Declan?”

She stares blanks at me.

“Looking for Brody,” I mutter.

Her eyes narrow on Dreyna. “Who are you, Friend?”

That’s my cue.

I do have a change of dry clothes. Unfortunately, they reek of smoke. Let’s play a game. No, not Dare. Never Dare. Yeesh. Let’s play What Smells Worse? Is it my sweat-drenched or smoke-infused clothes? Forget it. The cards are stacked on that one.

I put on my shower shoes, throwing everything else in the garbage, including the backpack. I don’t bother saving the soaked ones. Tally will have fun replacing them, but she won’t be impressed by my ugly white flip flops being worn in public.

I genuinely miss her. This entire misadventure has been rife with people overload and not the right people. The unassuming town I call home has given me the illusion of normalcy for eighteen years. Dad was right, thinking I was traveling across the world. This is definitely not the world I’m used to.

I wish Barry would’ve let Matthew help him. I’m not sure Tally will. The only two of us in sync are Declan and Kiley. Their connection is second nature to them now, each an extension of the other. I long for that sort of synergy.

“We may need to leave without Brody,” Kiley informs me.

Brody’s risked everything for me, staying behind to ensure my safety. I’m not leaving him for the sharks to tear apart. I fold my hands into my heated armpits to stop from throttling her. “Not happening.”

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“Sheyla, it’s your safety he’d be concerned with. He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

I shrug.

“Look at this room!” She flails like a drunk octopus. “It’s dangerous for you here.”

What did Dreyna tell her? “Kiley, I made this mess.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m aware.”

“I can probably take care of myself.”

“What about everyone else?”

I sigh. “Solid point, but where could he be?”

“He left the group shortly after we got here. We didn’t think anything of it until we went looking, and he was nowhere to be found.”

“I will go ahead to ensure the path is clear,” Dreyna interrupts.

I’m not sure whether to trust her all clear, but getting her out of the room might help me contain the bubbling fire threatening to escape. Something is coming, and there will be no capping the soda bottle when it’s ready to foam over. I feel the rising tension—the potential for disaster—and it doesn’t seem avoidable.

I take a good look at my friend. Kiley’s far worse for the wear than me. Is her behavior stemming from Brody’s absence, or is she keeping secrets?

“What gives?”

“This place,” she mumbles. “I hate it so much.”

As we approach the door, she steadies herself with the frame. She takes in a deep breath, steeling her resolve. My hand on her shoulder makes her jump.

“Sorry,” she mutters.

“Are you telling me what’s wrong, or am I guessing?” My tone is more annoyed-sibling than maternal.

Her eyes shimmer. “Have you ever wanted to be more than you are?”

“Not so much.” I honestly can’t relate. I’m already more than I can handle. “I often wish to be something else, though. Something less.”

Kiley’s never struck me as someone lacking confidence, but her insecurity is strangling me.

“This place reminds me of everything I’m not, everything I can’t be.” She shudders. “The truth is hard to hide from when it’s everywhere. These mirrors...”

“You can change your appearance at will. You can be anything you want.”

“My ability allows me the illusion of changing my appearance at will. Without mental manipulation, the truth shines through or doesn’t shine in my case.”

“If you think my opinion will change based on what you really look like, you don’t know me that well,” I defend myself. “I’m whatever the opposite of superficial is. Indifferent sounds rude, so I guess I’ll go with non-judgmental.”

I hadn’t put any thought into Kiley’s real appearance. Change is her thing. Outside the consistent punk princess vibe, she’s different every time I see her. However, I now realize why only painted portraits exist in the Connell household. Added to that, there are no mirrors. Not even in the bathroom, which is bizarre. Nor are there still photographs depicting happy memories as a family. A photo would show her true self, as would a video, guaranteeing her award-winning voice couldn’t be projected in fame promising brilliance. How bad can this girl possibly look? Does she have two heads? Will I recognize her?

“Has Declan seen the real you?” It can’t be that bad if he has and can stomach it.

She flinches. “No, there’s nothing to see.”

“What do you mean there’s nothing to see? What are you so afraid of?”

She shudders again. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

“Best get on with it,” I encourage her. “The sooner we go, the sooner we can leave, right?”

She takes another steeling breath. “Right.”

The polite thing to do would be to avoid looking at the mirrors. Of course, my curiosity overpowers my propriety. I convince myself one tiny glimpse can’t hurt anything.

“Kiley,” I whisper.

She’s mortified. “It’s awful, isn’t it?”

“It’s pretty bad.” I crinkle my nose. “This is the real you?”