Lifeless

by Adrianne Strickland

  “It’s nearing lunch. Why don’t you go to the mess hall?” Drey suggested as we rounded a corner, approaching the glass doors of the tram boarding platform. “I’ll take Pie to your apartment and feed her, since I think the City Council would likely draw the line at allowing her into the mess hall. Her presence here is unorthodox enough.”

  “All right,” I said, unable to resist the thought of food served to me without any effort on my part. My appetite had suddenly and exuberantly returned, now that Ryse was out of the picture.

  Not that it would necessarily last. Just because Drey was now my Godspeaker didn’t mean I could escape what the Council wanted me to do … or their deadline. Which was why I needed to eat as much as possible, while I could.

  Neither Drey nor I acknowledged the guards at the doors, nor did they acknowledge us, weird as we were: the brilliant Godspeaker back from seventeen—eighteen—years of hiding and the new, squeamish Word of Death with his still-breathing puppy. They obviously had to be well-trained to see what they saw every day and not stare, let alone shout about it all over Eden City. The Athenaeum was a veritable obedience school.

  When my tram arrived, I reluctantly passed Pie to Drey. “Uh, be careful with her. And be nice—especially nice.”

  Drey smiled at me in a way that could only be described as tender, maybe even sad. He held her securely with both hands, looping the purple leash over his arm. “I will.”

  Speeding away from the hospital ten seconds later, I already missed Pie. And yet I felt lighter than I had in two months. That had likely been Drey’s intention in giving her to me, but I felt so much better that I didn’t even care I was being manipulated—albeit in a gentle rather than a brutal way.

  Really, I wasn’t about to complain. Drey had gotten me my own apartment, less humiliating clothes, and a puppy. Aside from the killing, I could almost do this.

  As the elevator opened onto the sleek surroundings of the mess hall, I felt unarmed in spite of the fact that my pinky finger was a lethal weapon. Brehan had been with me the last time to make it all easier, even though I’d probably acted like a petulant ass. Now I was on my own. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders, then started for the glowing red counter to order.

  This time I tried a chef salad like Brehan’s, plus a BLT and fries, my stomach growling. I’d always passed a snazzy café on my trash run that had a menu posted in the window featuring an American-style BLT and fries. It didn’t help that I was usually there right when I was getting hungry for lunch, and that it was in the nicest part of town and therefore astronomically expensive, but I’d been wanting to try it since forever … unlike the pâté, escargot, foie gras, and whatever else it was that filled the menu. Because Eden City shared a border with France and Switzerland, having supplanted a town called Geneva when the Words took it over a couple of centuries ago, the French influenced a lot of our food. Which usually meant it was completely unaffordable and revolting to boot.

  I was going to eat that BLT now. Maybe not that exact one, but it was a small victory, and I would take what I could get. What was more, I was going to enjoy the hell out of it, unlike the fillet mignon and lobster I’d ordered before.

  I sat at an unoccupied table and raised the sandwich to my lips, about to dig in … but then Luft slid into the seat across from me. I nearly dropped the BLT, and then opted for setting it back on my plate instead of stuffing my face.

  Luft had helped me, and I was grateful to him, but we hadn’t exactly spoken when I was drugged in the wheelchair. And before that, there’d been the whole trying-to-suffocate-me thing, back when I wasn’t yet the Word of Death.

  I didn’t quite know what to say, so I cleared my throat in the awkward silence. “I hear it’s just about your birthday. Congratulations.”

  His lips quirked in a half-smile. “Yesterday. And thanks, though there usually isn’t much fanfare around here, especially not with what’s just happened. How’s the head?” he asked, his blue eyes serious. His blond hair was damp from a shower. Maybe he’d just worked out. The rest of him sure looked like he had.

  “Sore,” I said honestly. “But thank you for stepping in. Really.”

  He nodded, accepting my thanks.

  “Are you … uh, in trouble?” I asked.

  “I should be asking you that. But since you’re sitting here and not with armed guards in the hospital, I’m guessing you’ve agreed to have Dr. Bernstein as your Godspeaker.” He shrugged, toying with the corner of my thick paper napkin. “As for me, I got a lecture about abuse of privilege from Carlin and had to return my keycard. Big deal. So I have to ride the normal elevator now.”

  I figured he’d lost access to more than the elevator with the keycard—such as to the other Words’ training areas, including the Death Factory—but was downplaying it for my benefit. Some birthday he’d had. At least I’d gotten a puppy out of the deal.

  “I might have been in more trouble,” he admitted, pulling the napkin across the table toward himself, “if this whole thing with Eli—er, Dr. Swanson—and Ryse didn’t eclipse what I did. He put his whole reputation on the line by suspending her and supporting Dr. Bernstein’s return.”

  It occurred to me that Drey might be trying to save more than only our necks: it was now mine, his own, and Swanson’s. And then I decided to hell with it and took a massive bite of my BLT. Everything else on the planet was conspiring against my ability to eat it, so I wouldn’t let Luft’s presence stop me.

  He smiled slightly, as if he knew what I was thinking. “And while I royally pissed Ryse off, I also saved her life.” He held my eyes as I chewed. “You were going to kill her, right?”

  I nodded.

  He grinned, but it seemed as hard and serious as ever. It said what he couldn’t say out loud: Good.

  I couldn’t smile back, both because I didn’t feel like it and because I had food in my mouth, so I saluted him with my sandwich and took another bite. It was then I noticed what he was doing with his hands, even though he was still staring at my face.

  He was writing on the napkin with a pen, which shocked me. Pens and pencils weren’t impossible to find, but none of the Words were allowed to have them. The pen went back up his sleeve before I was even sure I’d seen it, and he cupped his hand in such a way that only I could see what was under it: a small, neatly scrawled message. Thank the Gods it was short and simple enough for me to read.

  Reach Khaya. Important.

  My heart started jackhammering in my chest. I opened my mouth, but Luft gave a sharp, single shake of his head and coughed, discreetly crumpling the napkin in his hand. It vanished up his sleeve with the pen.

  He wanted me to contact Khaya. Never mind that I had no clue how to do that, but why? Maybe he’d found out about the automatons. Maybe his Godspeaker had told him. He and Carlin were close, after all. But then why would Luft want me to risk revealing Khaya’s location when she was the key to that plan’s success?

  Maybe she was in danger and needed help. But no, there was no way for me to help her from in here. I was the one who needed help.

  Then it hit me. Maybe Luft was trying to help me—again. Maybe he knew just how precarious my situation was. Khaya might not even know for sure if I was still alive, but if I could signal her somehow, maybe she could form a plan to come get me. Maybe she already had one. She could never risk coming herself, of course, since the world’s stability relied on her staying out of the City Council’s hands, but Pavati and Tu could possibly break me out. If only …

  “Someone’s hungry now.”

  Brehan collapsed into the seat next to Luft before I had a chance to look up. I tried to pretend like Luft and I were having a normal conversation, though I couldn’t imagine what one of those would even sound like. Think about Khaya later, I commanded myself, and took another hurried bite of my BLT.

  The fact that I owed Brehan an apology for my outburst at
the apartment didn’t help the awkward factor, but he didn’t give me the chance to apologize. “I hear you had an even bigger tantrum since I saw you last and that you almost killed your Godspeaker—or ex-Godspeaker.” He squinted at me with a teasing glint in his eyes as I chewed, staring particularly at my cheek where it was sutured. For a second I was grateful even for that topic of conversation until he added, “Without Khaya to heal you, that cut might actually scar your pretty face. What do you think, Luffy, is he less handsome? Or maybe more handsome, in that rugged sort of—”

  I swallowed quickly, about to tell Brehan to shut the hell up, when Luft whispered a word in German. Brehan’s voice choked off and his eyes bulged in his face.

  I laughed. “Much better.”

  Luft grinned at me again, then said another Word that released Brehan’s air.

  “Asshole,” Brehan croaked amiably after gasping for breath. “Don’t make me blind you. Or worse, sneak in your apartment tonight while you’re sleeping and set up a strobe light above your bed.”

  “Are you sure you won’t be sneaking in for something else?” Luft asked, turning his sharp grin on Brehan. “Have you come to the dark side, Light Boy?”

  I choked, laughing, on a bite of salad. Luft obviously knew what people said about him behind his back and was happy to beat them at their own game.

  I was liking him more and more, in spite of the danger of suffocation. Gods, I thought, could he actually be helping me more than he already has?

  “Man, they won’t even let me pick a side,” Brehan complained. “What’s a guy got to do to get some action around here?”

  A scathing voice spoke over my shoulder. “I hate to interrupt this charming discussion with my female presence … but if I didn’t, you guys might devolve into filthy cavemen right here at the table.”

  Agonya walked around the table until she stood over Luft’s and Brehan’s shoulders, her hands on her hips. Her light brown hair was pulled high and tight on her head, her cheekbones sharp. Her brown eyes were even sharper—she could have been carving me as she stared down at me.

  Now I had an audience. Gods, my lunch just couldn’t get any better. Actually, the BLT was amazing, but the rest was just ridiculous. If I’d known she would sneak up behind me, I would’ve been looking over my shoulder a lot more often. Agonya was probably the last Word I wanted to see.

  “Me want woman,” Brehan grunted in his best caveman voice, then swiped at her. She dodged his hand easily and shot him a look that should have killed him. If she weren’t so suited for the Word of Fire, I would have nominated her for the Word of Death. It was too bad that two Words couldn’t share one body … and that it would have killed me to give it to her.

  She wedged herself between Luft and Brehan, which wasn’t too hard with her slim figure, and sat down. They both scooted over quickly to accommodate her, and then the three of them suddenly seemed like a panel of judges facing me.

  My sandwich had officially lost its appeal, and I wanted to think about Luft’s message in private. “Well, I’m done. I guess I’ll see you later.”

  “Not so fast!” Agonya said, slamming my plate down as I half-stood with it. “So what is this?” She glared at the guys on either side of her. “You two eat lunch with murdering thieves? I thought you both had more class than that.”

  “Excuse me?” My ass thumped back down onto my chair as my voice rose with incredulity. “I’m the thief now? Last I checked, I was the one who had my life stolen from me.”

  “Right,” she scoffed. “You were a trash boy. Who wouldn’t want something better than that? You probably couldn’t wait to get your hands on the Word of Death.”

  I felt the first dark stirrings in my head since I’d been knocked out, and I forced myself to calm down. The best alternative to rage was sarcasm, so I tapped my chin and gave her a sympathetic look. “Hmm, so you are completely insane. I suspected as much.”

  In response, Agonya only said a word in Russian I couldn’t understand. A Word. Her hand was still touching my plate, and the remains of my sandwich and fries went up in flames. The fire didn’t last long—only a second—but it was strong enough to heat my face and leave only greasy black char on the plate.

  I raised an eyebrow. “You’re only proving me right. What, did you have a crush on Herio or something? It would make sense, since he was a psychopath too.”

  Fast as a striking snake, her hand shot across the table and seized my bare wrist. “I can burn you next.”

  I didn’t pull away. “Gods, now you’re stupid on top of crazy. You’re touching Death, you realize.” I barked a laugh. “I wonder who would die quicker, me or you? We can always test, and then—poof—two precious Words gone, just like that. Not that I care, but I’m sure the rest of the world would.”

  Like they cared about the Words who had been lost already—three of the strongest Words, the Words of Power. Movement had vanished centuries ago, never to resurface; Naming was assassinated in the nineteenth century; and Time died by suicide in the early twentieth, around World War I. Their loss was viewed as one of humanity’s greatest failings. But Words had never killed one another, and if that happened at this mess hall table, I couldn’t imagine that Eden City’s prestige would ever recover. It was almost tempting to go through with it for that reason alone.

  “Agonya,” Luft warned. Brehan looked just as tense.

  “And if you knew anything,” I added, unable to help myself, “you’d know this Word was the last thing I ever wanted, and that Herio’s last wish was to damn me as thoroughly as possible, not kill me. So go ahead, do it. You’d practically be doing me a favor.”

  But then Khaya and Drey flashed before my eyes, and absurdly, Pie, and I knew I didn’t mean it. Not anymore. It was almost a relief to know this.

  I was the Word of Death, but somehow I still had a few reasons to live. Especially if I had the slightest chance of seeing Khaya again.

  I wrenched my hand away then. “Don’t touch me,” I said to her. “Ever.”

  There was an implied or else, though I didn’t know what it was. All I knew was that I was damned sick of people touching me without my permission.

  Agonya’s eyes were narrowed, her mouth slightly open. She was obviously still angry, but I didn’t think she’d been expecting my reaction. She probably thought I’d get defensive and flustered, after which she would have pounced on me with all the reasons why I was a liar. But death was sort of a game-changer, I’d realized.

  She stood in a rush, maybe since I was no longer going anywhere. “Just remember,” she snapped, “you’re not one of us and you never will be, so don’t even try. Stay out of our way.”

  “You all sat down at my table,” I reminded her swinging ponytail as she stalked away.

  She flipped me off over her shoulder.

  I relaxed in my chair and turned back to my food. At least she hadn’t torched my salad. There was still some left. I picked up my fork and looked up at Brehan and Luft. “Don’t mind me. Feel free to storm away too, whenever you want.”

  Brehan raised his hands. “Hey, Agonya should speak for herself. I don’t find your company as unbearable as she seems to … though fewer tantrums on your part would be nice.” Again, before I could apologize, he added, “And I’m sure Luft here doesn’t want you to stay out of his way.”

  Luft rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have any other angle? My witty comebacks are wasted on such crap. Besides, Tavin’s not my type.”

  “Really? Who is? We’re all dying to know.”

  Luft winked at him and waggled his blond eyebrows.

  Brehan laughed. “I know that’s not true.”

  “Do you? Are you so sure?” Luft slid closer to him. His coy expression looked absolutely absurd on him, but it did the trick.

  “Okay, okay, you win!” Brehan leapt up. “I’m hungry, but not for fruitcake.” He headed for the red c
ounter.

  “Must get old,” I said after he was out of earshot, my mouth full of salad.

  “There are limited sources of entertainment in here, you’ll notice,” Luft said, studying his hands as he folded them together on the table. “And Brehan uses whatever’s available to lighten the mood. I don’t really fault him for it.” His lips twisted in distaste. “Lighten, Gods … ”

  “Yeah, we’ve already been over that joke too.” I swallowed. “Still, you won’t hear it from me.”

  He seemed to know I wasn’t talking about light-related puns, because he looked up at me, squinting for half a second as if trying to see me better. “Thanks,” he said. Then he tapped the table with his fingers and abruptly stood. “I have to meet Carlin. Try not to get yourself killed within the next few hours … I’m busy.”

  So he was looking out for me. I couldn’t help smirking at his cockiness, but it turned into a grimace on my face. “It’s not me dying I’m worried about.” At least not for the immediate future—the next month, to be exact. “Only everything else,” I added.

  Luft gave me that searching look again before he left. “Right, that’s quite the conundrum. Good luck.”

  He didn’t sound sarcastic. And it didn’t sound like he meant just the one conundrum, either.

  Because reaching Khaya would be another.

  nine

  I waited at my table in the mess hall for Brehan to return with his food, the questions banging around in my skull louder than the Word of Death. Now that Agonya had stormed away, and even Luft had left, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. More than anything, I wished I could talk to Brehan.