by Sarah Fine
“Malachi, can I be with you right now, wherever you are?”
He moved very slowly, as if afraid he would wake my memories and fears. But this time I welcomed the tightening of his arms around me and leaned back when his chin came to rest on the top of my head.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he said very softly. “Yes.”
SIXTEEN
“UP, LELA. TIME TO go,” chirped Ana.
I groaned and rolled over. I’d stayed in the tower with Malachi for too long, but it had felt so good that I couldn’t be sorry. He’d held me there, wordless, both of us staring at the distant woods, dreaming separately, breathing together, for what might have been hours. Or it might have been only a few minutes.
It wasn’t enough.
When the moon had crossed the sky, Malachi had let me go, reminding me that we had to leave in the morning. He’d been quiet, as if only half of him had returned from his journey over the city wall. His cautious avoidance of unnecessary physical contact resumed as soon as we hit the stairs. I felt the loss, like some barricade had risen up between us, one I’d built to protect myself but now couldn’t find a way around.
“Up, up.” Ana kicked the leg of the cot. “I can’t believe I left you my bed. You barely used it. I thought you’d drowned in the shower.” I cracked an eye open in time to see Ana gather the clothes I’d discarded late last night after a brief, cold shower. She wrinkled her nose. “These smell like Malachi.”
I turned my head into the pillow. “How far is it to Harag?” I asked, desperate to steer the conversation down a different path.
Ana tossed some clean clothes at me. “We won’t get to the edge of it until the end of today, unless Malachi makes us run. But I think he’ll let us conserve our energy on this one.”
I pulled a shirt over my head. “Hey—will you explain what you said to Malachi yesterday about the two of you breaking your backs to keep me out of Harag?”
“Ooh. I could. But then Malachi would get nasty. That boy has a special gift for creative nastiness.”
“Come on, Ana,” I whined, “call it girl talk. You don’t get much girl talk, right?”
Ana looked suspicious. “You won’t tell him I told you?” I shook my head as I pulled on a pair of pants. “Fine. Just remember, I have my own gifts, and most of them involve hitting people’s soft spots with pointy things.”
She pulled a knife from nowhere and twirled it on her fingers, then put it away just as quickly. “Malachi’s number-one mission since the recent Guard murders is to find the Mazikin nest. He’s been working on it for weeks. It’s gotten him seriously wounded twice. He’s been absolutely ruled by it. And you, with your jailbreaking shenanigans, happened to offer him the best chance he’s ever had to find it.”
“Because Sil was taking me there.” Sudden queasiness drew my hand to my stomach. It felt oddly hollow.
“You got it. All Malachi had to do was track you back to the nest, and we would’ve had them.”
“Why didn’t he do that?”
Ana shuffled her feet and looked hesitant. “Look, Lela, I kind of like you, so I’m a little bit sorry I disagree with the choice he made. It was the only chance we’ve had in ages to see where they’re taking people.”
“Uh huh, got that part. Why didn’t Malachi take that chance?”
“Because he couldn’t have gotten you out. We don’t know how many Mazikin are in the nest, but their population has grown quickly in the last year. Sil and Ibram—and Juri, until a few days ago—have become very strong during that time. They’ve been recruiting aggressively in recent weeks, like they’re getting ready to launch an offensive. We would have been completely outnumbered, especially since we couldn’t take a full platoon of Guards with us—Sil would have killed you as soon as he heard them coming. So since it was just the two of us, the only thing we could have done if Sil had gotten you all the way to the nest was watch you go in.”
“There wouldn’t have been time to send for reinforcements after you found the nest?”
“Remember how far I said Harag was? It would have taken at least a full day.”
I remembered the strange way the Mazikin had treated me. They’d actually taken care of me in an ultracreepy kind of way. “They weren’t cruel or anything. It’s not like they were torturing me. I probably could have handled it for a day or two.”
Ana gave me a pitying look. “Malachi didn’t tell you what they do, did he? God, he has really lost it. Lela. Honey. Of course the Mazikin weren’t cruel. They love the ones who look like you. Pretty and strong. They would’ve taken real good care of you. Right up until the moment they tied you to a table and summoned a Mazikin spirit to possess you. And then, well, it’s lights-out. No more Lela. Lela’s body’s still breathing and moving around, sure, but the real Lela? She’s gone.” Ana was breathing hard as she turned away and wiped fiercely at her face.
I curled my knees to my chest, now well and truly nauseated. “That’s why they look like everyone else. Because they are everyone else.”
Ana’s expression was ice-cold as her eyes locked on mine. “You got it. Once a Mazikin takes possession, there’s no going back. The person looks and sounds the same as before. They even have some of the same memories and skills. But the person’s soul is gone.”
“Like, gone forever? It just gets snuffed out?”
She grimaced. “No. It gets banished to the Mazikin homeland, the place even the Mazikin are desperate to escape. If there’s an actual hell, that’s probably it.”
“So these people end up in hell, not because of anything they did, but because they were unlucky?” I’d gotten the sense there was some justice in all of this afterlife stuff, but that definitely didn’t sound fair.
“We think there’s a way to free them,” Ana said quietly. “That’s why we kill the Mazikin, even though that has its own consequences. If you kill the possessed body, it banishes the Mazikin spirit back to its homeland, and we think that releases the human soul. But that means the Mazikin can come back and possess someone else. The strongest of them always come back. Malachi has fought Sil in three separate bodies. And Juri—he and Malachi go way back. Malachi must have killed him at least four times, and he’s nearly taken Malachi out a time or two as well. In recent years Juri’s even taken to possessing bodies that speak Slovak, just so he can taunt Malachi in one of his native languages.”
From what little I knew of Juri, it sounded like something he would do. “And there’s no other way to get someone back once they’ve been possessed? Can’t you do an exorcism or something?”
She let out a derisive laugh. “When someone turns Mazikin, killing them is the only option. Otherwise, they keep gathering victims and increasing their numbers. They find easy victims here, but they’re not satisfied with that. They’re like a virus—they want to escape the city and spread chaos. It’s happened before, centuries ago. Human Guards were dispatched to stop them, and they succeeded at the cost of their own lives and countless others. It’s our job to make sure that doesn’t happen again—and to protect the residents of the city until they’re ready to find their way out through the Judge.”
“So wasn’t Malachi doing his job when he protected me?”
Ana shook her head, and the pitying look returned to her face. “If he was an ordinary Guard, maybe. But Malachi is our leader. It’s his job to take the long view, look at the bigger picture, and make hard choices for the greater good. And Malachi is very, very good at his job. Yet, for some reason, he wasn’t willing to sacrifice you. He knew that either they’d possess you, or you’d get yourself killed in some harebrained escape attempt, or he’d be forced to burn down the nest with you in it. He absolutely refused to take the chance that any of those things would happen.”
My stomach did a weird sort of backflip. Nobody had ever thought I was important enough to risk so much for. “But why didn’t he want me to know?”
“He doesn’t want you to feel guilty.”
I stared at A
na as it all clicked into place. “Because he hasn’t found the nest yet, others are being sacrificed,” I choked out, contemplating the choice Malachi had made. I didn’t want that kind of responsibility. I hoped he didn’t feel sorry about his decision. As I looked down at my arm and pictured Nadia out there, alone and vulnerable, I wasn’t sure he’d chosen right. I got up from the cot and started pacing.
Ana laid a hand on my arm and held on as I flinched, as if she’d known what to expect. “Remember,” she warned, looking every inch the predator she was, “you promised not to tell him I told you.”
“I won’t. But it makes me want to get going.”
Ana released my arm. “Right. Your friend. Look—we’ve got to wait for Malachi. He’ll be here soon, and then we’ll go.” She sat down on her cot. “So, while we wait…I gave you some dirt, now you give me some. Is it true, what Malachi told me? You actually left the Countryside to come here, just to find your friend and get her out?”
“Yes.”
“You know how stupid that sounds to me, right? It’s supposed to be heaven out there. No worries, no danger, no pain, no regret. Everything you need. Why would you risk that?”
I shrugged. “Nadia had all this power and never forgot how to be kind. She was gentle, sweet, and she—”
“So basically, she was a nice person. Got it. And…still don’t get it.”
I threw my hands up. “She gave me a future! Before her I didn’t have one. If I got through a day, that was good enough for me. I never imagined it could be different. But she showed me it could be different.”
Ana leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms. I couldn’t read her expression, but something told me I’d hit a nerve. I ran my hand over my sleeve, over the tattoo.
“When you don’t have a future, you act different. You don’t plan. You don’t try. You just…exist. She wouldn’t let me do that. She pushed me. Harassed me. Nagged me. It was damn annoying sometimes, but she wouldn’t let me slack off. We had fun, too. She took me places I’d never been before. We laughed a lot. I’d never done that with anyone. Life seemed worth living, and a future seemed worth having if it could include stuff like that.”
I wiped my face with my sleeve.
When I turned back to Ana, she said very quietly, “I get that. A future would have been nice.” She cleared her throat. “Malachi said you had some dreams and visions about this place before you died, but how much did you really see?”
“I wandered here in my nightmares nearly every night for two years. But I didn’t really notice much around me. I was in a fog.”
Her eyebrow shot up. “You were a ghost, huh? We can’t see them, but Mazikin can. At the core they’re spirits, even when they inhabit others’ bodies. So I guess they can see the other spirits, even those still connected to living human bodies. A few years ago I saw it with my own eyes. Creepiest thing I’ve ever witnessed. This Mazikin was just talking to the air, stroking at it like there was someone there. It was inviting the ghost to stay, saying it was perfect, that it should come here to live, that it would be taken care of.”
I shuddered, remembering Juri’s voice whispering all those poisonous words in my ear.
“That Mazikin was so wrapped up in the ghost that it didn’t even notice me sneaking up behind it to cut its throat.” She paused, caught for a moment in the memory, and then focused on me again. “Wait. If you didn’t notice much in those dreams, then how did you know about the Guards’ weapons?”
“Once Nadia died, my dreams changed. I saw everything from her perspective, but it was sharper, like I was still myself. I saw the dome of darkness over the city. I saw the Suicide Gates and the Guards. I saw a Mazikin try to take Nadia away—hey, how come some of them run on all fours?”
Ana laughed. “Oh—the old ones, right? There’s something about elderly bodies—they don’t hold up as well when they’re possessed, and they end up running around like animals. I’ve always wondered if a Mazikin in true form doesn’t look more animal than human.”
I shuddered. “In one of the visions, I saw Malachi kill two Mazikin and fight off Ibram. Nadia was there, hiding, and she saw the whole thing. Malachi said it happened in Harag, and that’s why we’re going.”
Ana looked at me with amazement. “You saw that? It only happened a week or so ago.”
“Why is that surprising?”
“It means you haven’t been here for more than a week. When people come through the Gates, they’re usually completely disoriented. I know I was. I snapped out of it quicker than most, but at first it was really confusing.…But you weren’t confused, were you?” Ana blew out a long breath and shook her head, finally believing. “Because you chose to come. That must be it. I mean, I get how important Nadia is to you, but we’ve never had someone come through the Gates voluntarily, looking for someone else. It’s no wonder Malachi’s fascinated with you.”
For some reason, Ana’s comment zinged right through my chest just as painfully as if she’d used one of her knives. “Yeah,” I said hoarsely, “no wonder.”
There was a sharp knock on the door. Ana gave me a look. “Remember what you promised.” She swept to the door and opened it.
I took a breath as Malachi entered the room. He wore a fresh set of clothes, obviously their uniform—the navy-blue fitted shirt and fatigue pants. He had a satchel on his back, the strap slung diagonally across his chest. From the way it clinked as he moved, I assumed it was full of weapons. I bit my lip and fiddled with my bootlaces. He looked really, really good. “We have to stop at Michael’s shop to pick up the new armor,” he said to Ana. He threw a cautious glance at me. “Are you ready to leave?”
“Absolutely,” I said, a little too enthusiastically.
If he noticed my total spasticness, he didn’t let on. “Well, ladies, let’s get going.”
Michael, the weapon master, had a shop at the far west end of the Guard Station, down a long marble corridor lined with ornate gas lamps hanging from decorative sconces. Malachi led the way, his boots squeaking on the smooth, polished floor.
He looked over his shoulder at me. “Take Michael with a grain of salt. He’s kind of irritable.”
Ana snorted but didn’t say anything.
“So, um, Raphael…Michael…are we going to run into Gabriel somewhere around here?” I asked, wondering if I’d figured something out.
Ana’s laughter had a hard edge to it. “No, we don’t have a resident Gabriel. And Michael is…”
Malachi’s lips quirked up. “He’s a very special individual. But I believe he is not now, nor has he ever been, in possession of a halo.”
At the very end of the hallway, two Guards stood in front of elaborately carved wooden doors.
“Ghazi. Sofian,” Malachi greeted as he nodded to each of them. They nodded back and pulled open the doors for us.
“He’s in fine form this morning, Captain,” grunted Sofian in warning. I could already hear the ranting coming from inside.
“Malachi? Is that you? Get in here, you bloody pillock,” a gravelly voice shouted from the far end of the shop.
“What did he just call you?” I whispered as I looked around.
“Roughly translated, an idiot,” Malachi whispered back. Ana snorted again.
It was not the tiny, quaint workshop I’d pictured. I’d had some mall version of Santa’s workshop in my head. Michael’s shop was more like a factory. It reminded me of a giant hardware store, emphasis on the hard. Aisles of metal shelving stretched in front of us, and each contained a different kind of deadly accessory. There were enough scimitars here to equip an army. Knives of all design crowded the shelves: some short, some long, some curved, some serrated, some with terrifying-looking barbs. And armor—stacks and stacks of armor.
“Where does the metal come from?” I asked.
“We don’t know,” said Ana. “Only Michael knows.”
“Malachi! You poxy prat, what kind of nutter abuses a beautiful weapon this way?” Michael shouted above
a sharp clanging noise that made me cringe and cover my ears.
Malachi closed his eyes as if praying for patience and led the way toward the back of the shop, down an aisle lined with throwing stars.
I had to ask. “What did he call you that time?”
Malachi gave me a sidelong glance and rolled his eyes. “Again, an idiot. He’s really gotten into British slang these days.”
“Believe me,” said Ana, “it’s better than when he was into Chinese profanity. For two years, we were huàidàn this and kuàxiàwù that. But the worst was—”
“Russian,” they said at the same time. We turned the corner.
Michael stood at a forge, wielding a red-hot strip of metal. He was incredibly, impressively, amazingly fat. I marveled for a moment at how someone so huge could move with such ease. And also how he avoided burning the various folds of flab that hung from his limbs, belly, and chin. But as I watched the sweat dripping from his hills and valleys, I began to see his movements as a sort of graceful ballet. The longer I observed, the more beautiful he became. I was reminded of Raphael’s indescribable smile, and that’s what I was thinking of when Michael noticed me for the first time.
His smile was…not so beautiful.
“Well, Gor-don Ben-nett,” he said in a slow, appreciative way that made Malachi take half a step in front of me. Michael leaned to get a better view, and I somehow resisted the urge pull Malachi all the way in front of me like a human shield.
“Michael, this is Lela, as I am sure you have realized. Is her armor ready?”
Michael raised his eyebrows, causing folds of flesh to droop over his eyes.