Well, I talked to him once he sat down with his meal, but we didn’t really talk. He chattered on between bites of food, and sometimes during bites of food, about what he was doing in his own training—lots of stuff with light, no surprise—while my thoughts buzzed, keeping me from giving him more than short, distracted answers or comments.
How could I contact Khaya from inside the Athenaeum? More importantly, should I contact her? It had never occurred to me as an option before Luft’s message. I was in here, and she was out there somewhere, just like I was the Word of Death and she was the Word of Life. But maybe the walls between us weren’t as impenetrable as I’d thought. I desperately wanted to believe they weren’t.
The thing was, I wasn’t sure if I could trust Luft, not yet. He’d helped me, but he’d also tried to kill me before. And he was still here in the Athenaeum. Unlike Khaya and Tu and Pavati, he’d never tried to escape, and like Agonya and Mørke, he’d been on the team to bring them back.
Brehan hadn’t been. Maybe that was because the Word of Light would not have been useful in that situation, but still, it made me want to trust him. Besides, he’d been nice to me from the beginning.
A hand waved in front of my eyes. “I can see you’re orbiting the solar system.”
“Huh?” I said, blinking and looking at Brehan.
He took his hand back, smirking. “All you need is one of those bubble helmets and the white jumpsuit and you’d be a real space man.”
I leaned back in my chair. “I was listening. Sort of. Sorry.”
“It’s okay, man. You’ve had a rough couple of days. You might even still have a concussion, which I hear increases spaciness—also drooling.”
I wiped at my mouth in alarm, only to find nothing aside from Brehan’s renewed grin across the table. I glared at him, and then I cracked up. He laughed too, and it was then that I really decided to trust him.
“Yeah,” I said, getting an idea. “I’m kind of tired. I might head back to the apartment. Do you … uh … ” Even though we’d just been laughing, the words were suddenly awkward on my tongue, like a mouthful of gravel. “Want to hang out?” My face flushed what had to be a humiliating hue, and I hurried on before he could answer. “I mean, I’ve been an ass, and I want to apologize—”
Brehan chuckled and waved off the rest of my verbal fumbling. “No worries. I have some time before physics. And you know what, I managed to talk Mira—my Godspeaker—into getting me that new gaming system for my birthday … ” And then he launched into a description of a car racing game he had, which didn’t sound terribly exciting to me—why pretend to drive when you could just go out and do it?—until I remembered that the Words weren’t taught or allowed to drive. I might not know a thing about physics or the latest video games, but at least I could operate a motor vehicle.
I made a sincere effort to follow Brehan’s game-talk on the way to the Words’ apartment complex, but once we were on the tram, I tuned him out while I searched for what I needed—and then found it. For once, I was thankful for our elite mode of transportation; the man near the doors obviously wasn’t wordless, based on the gold pen in the front pocket of his sleek button-up shirt.
The tram began to slow to a stop as it neared our exit. I reached up to scratch my nose, as we turned to get off, and bumped into the man, my hand hitting his chest. I made eye contact and smiled apologetically. The beginnings of a smile froze on his face as he recognized the unstable new Word of Death—or, at least, the twin monitor bracelets around my wrists—and he took several steps back.
Perfect. He was too flustered about me touching him to notice his pen was missing—the pen that was now up my sleeve. I silently thanked Luft for the idea.
Brehan and I were quiet as we walked through the black-and-cream marble lobby of our apartment complex. When the elevator doors closed us inside the shining box, he nudged me with this shoulder, grinning at me in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors.
“That guy just didn’t know how cuddly you can be,” he said.
I realized he was trying to make me feel better for the pen-man flinching away from me. For about the first time ever, recognition and fear had been exactly what I’d wanted, but Brehan must have been taking my silence for gloominess instead of what it actually was: me trying to come up with the rest of my plan. I needed to do a better job of pretending nothing was up, or more people than Brehan might notice before I got the chance to enact it.
“Oh, hey,” I said, remembering something with a rush of genuine happiness. My face broke out in such a smile that it surprised even me, never mind Brehan. “You’re going to be jealous. I have a new lady in my life now. In fact, she’s waiting for me in my apartment.”
Brehan looked at me like I was crazy. “What, do you get conjugal visits now or something?” His voice went falsetto. “‘I’m Tavin and I’m so depressed that the only way to make me feel better is … ’” He started mock-caressing his chest, his hand sliding south, as the elevator doors opened on the green and gold of our floor.
I winked at him before I stepped out into the hallway. “She has an amazing tongue.” His jaw dropped, and I tossed the coup de grâce over my shoulder: “Maybe she can come over to your place soon.”
“Bullsh—” Brehan began, and then I swiped my keycard and opened my door.
Pie came skittering and sliding along the rosewood floor of the apartment and then burst onto the hallway carpet. She made a sharp turn and immediately threw her wiry body at my legs.
I scooped her up in my arms while Brehan stared, dumbfounded. I nuzzled her warm silky face, breathing in that amazing puppy smell that hadn’t yet morphed into stinky-dog, while she alternately licked and nipped my cheek—the one that wasn’t sutured. I held her up at eye level for Brehan.
“Pie, Brehan. Brehan, Pie. He’s the Word of Light, and Pie is the Word of Licking.”
A laugh burst out of him. “Good with her tongue, huh?”
“The best. Want to verify?” I held her out to him, and she struggled against my hands to get at him, her tongue lapping the air. Brehan took her in his arms, and she promptly coated his cheek with puppy slobber while he laughed and cursed and tried to tilt his face out of reach. Pie liking him so much reaffirmed my decision to trust him. She’d been terrified of Ryse and had even bitten her. Clearly, she was a good judge of character.
The fact that she also liked me gave me more confidence in myself, I wasn’t ashamed to admit—admit only to myself, at any rate. Like several things about me, that wasn’t really information I wanted to share.
Brehan wiped his cheek with a sleeve, setting Pie on the ground with his other hand. She bounded back over to me and leapt in a circle around my feet, trying to get me to play.
“She can definitely come over to my place,” he said, smiling at her. He looked like he was about to ask how I’d gotten her and then thought better of it. He nodded toward his door. “Speaking of awesome new additions to our lives, you want to race?”
“One second,” I said, seizing my chance. “Need to piss.”
I dodged into Khaya’s—my—apartment and slipped into the bathroom, being especially careful to close the door behind me. I would have anyway, since there were cameras right outside the bathroom … but not, as far as I could tell, inside. That was too much of an invasion of privacy for even the Godspeakers to sanction. I turned on the faucet to at least sound like I was doing something ordinary, ripped off a piece of toilet paper, and scrawled in the most childlike penmanship imaginable with the stolen pen:
I trust you. Can I trust Luft? Flush this.
Then I actually pissed for good measure, washed my hands, and headed back toward the hallway. En route, I noticed that someone had cleaned up and replaced the giant flat screen TV I’d broken with a brand new one. I nearly laughed but swallowed it instead. I didn’t want whoever was watching to feel they should keep a closer eye on me, and mocking
the outcome of my miniature insurrection would likely be all the incentive they’d need.
When I stepped into the hall, Brehan was on his back on the green and gold carpet with Pie, letting her climb all over him. He sat up when he saw me.
Before he could suggest the video game again, I said, “So, you were telling me about that ‘flare’ technique you were practicing.” At least it was true in case anyone felt like cross-checking the facts; I remembered that much from his lunchtime conversation. But then I flicked my eyes at the black semisphere casing of the camera set into the hallway ceiling. “Now that no one else is around to freak out, you should show me.”
If he caught my look, he didn’t let it show on his face. He only grinned. “You sure you’re ready for this? It’s going to be bright.”
“Hit me with it.”
It nearly felt like an actual hit when it happened, right in the eyeballs. He uttered a few Words—in Amharic, he’d told me at lunch—and the hallway flared like the sun had stumbled and fallen inside of it. I couldn’t even see him, or anything else for that matter, so I wasn’t worried about what the camera saw. The “flare” was brighter than I’d hoped. I reached forward blindly, caught Brehan’s hand, and stuffed the tissue into his palm. His fingers closed around it. Then I threw myself away from him, laughing and shouting, “Okay, okay, I get it! Pie is scared!”
It was true; Pie was whining in a way that made me pick her up and nuzzle her in apology once the light faded. Brehan grinned from his seat on the floor, as if I hadn’t just shoved something into his hand. His arms were folded in his lap.
“You’re sure that it’s not you who’s scared?” he asked.
I grinned back. “Okay, I would have pissed my pants if I hadn’t just gone.” I widened my eyes at him ever-so-slightly.
“That sounds more like it. And speaking of which … ” He unfolded his lanky frame from the floor. “I could use a bathroom break myself. Mind? I want to check out your setup, see if they upgraded the girls’ tubs with Jacuzzi jets or something. You know, since their apartments apparently come with puppies.”
I could picture Khaya fuming over such a notion, even if it was just Brehan’s excuse to get into my bathroom—where I’d left the pen on the toilet tank. But at least the request didn’t sound so strange when he put it that way, and, odd or not, we were slightly closer to my apartment and my door was conveniently open. I didn’t know if Brehan had a pen hidden away somewhere at his place, but even if he did, it might raise suspicions if he went looking for it. He must have been thinking the same thing.
I forced a laugh. “Go for it.”
I played with Pie in the hallway, trying not to reveal my nervousness. It seemed like Brehan was in the bathroom forever. I suppressed a jump when I heard the bathroom door open.
He stuck his head out into the hallway. “Do you know your tablet is beeping in here? I think you have a message.”
My stomach lurched into my throat. Was someone onto us? I stood, wiping my sweaty palms on my pants, and stepped into the apartment. Pie followed, yapping. I headed for the tablet I used to practice writing, which was resting on the kitchen counter and, now that I listened for it, emitting a faint beep. I woke it up and pushed the flashing icon that signaled a videomail.
To my immense relief, Drey’s lined face appeared with my rosewood cupboards in the background and with a time signature from a couple of hours ago. “I just fed Pie,” the recording began. “Your other studies can wait for today, but meet me in the lab at four p.m. Don’t be late.” The video cut out.
I glanced at the tablet’s clock: 3:47.
My stomach twisted again, but for a different reason. “Damn. I have to be in the lab in about ten minutes.” Not only did I have to face using the Word of Death again, but I had to do it with Drey as my Godspeaker. And how was I going to get Brehan’s reply, assuming he’d written me one? The apprehension was audible in my voice.
Brehan gave me a sympathetic look. “I shouldn’t make you late. Some other time on the game, yeah?”
He held out his hand for me to shake. I couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like his pinky finger might have been curled into his palm … pinching something.
Perfect. But I didn’t usually shake hands, especially not without gloves on. I made a show of eyeing his hand. “Are you sure you don’t have a death wish?”
“Aw, but I thought you were starting to trust me.”
I trust you, I’d written.
I smirked. “I haven’t quite thrown out killing you just yet.” I took his hand.
“I still count that as progress.” He released what felt exactly like a folded-up piece of toilet paper into my palm. “Later, man. Good luck.” He clapped me on the shoulder with his other hand and sauntered out of my apartment.
Luft had wished me luck too. They were probably saying that because they couldn’t do anything else to help me deal with being the Word of Death. I was on my own—only luck could help me now.
Or maybe Khaya could too, in a perfect universe … with a little assistance from the Words of Earth and Water. If anyone could get me out of here, it was Tu and Pavati.
I wanted more than anything to read the note, but I didn’t have time to pretend I needed to use the bathroom again. I dinked around only long enough to crouch behind the counter, kiss Pie goodbye—I wasn’t about to take her back to the lab where she’d been so close to death—and slip the scrap of toilet paper into my pocket. Then I headed out the door myself.
My route to the Death Factory passed in a haze of anxiety. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, I didn’t have long to wait. The tram and the elevators delivered me there just in time. Drey was already waiting inside the shining white-and-metallic lab. He looked out of place in his tweed slacks.
Before I could even get out a hello, he said, “I noticed your pulse doubled during lunch. Others did too.”
Shit. He was warning me to be careful, even though he probably had no idea what had made me so excited.
I took a deep breath, trying not to think about Khaya and hoping my heart rate wasn’t skyrocketing again. I made my voice irked, even angry. “If you know that, then you should know about Agonya crashing my lunch. If they”—I pointed to one of the surveillance cameras nestled in the corner of the lab’s ceiling—“want me to be stable, then they should keep her the hell away from me.” I actually meant the last part, even if that wasn’t what my monitor bracelets had picked up.
“Should Luft be kept away from you too? Because, according to the report I received, your pulse reached peak elevation while you were talking to him—before Agonya showed up.”
Double shit. The surveillance on me was too good. But at least, I hoped to the Gods, it still wasn’t quite good enough to reach inside the bathroom. Even if my pulse became elevated in there, no one in their right mind should want to ask why. Or at least no one who knew the first thing about young guys, especially those condemned to a life of celibacy. So no one should know about the notes.
I wanted to wink at Drey or something, let him know that he didn’t need to worry about this—but then, I had no idea how he would feel about me possibly conspiring with Luft to contact Khaya.
I opened my mouth and hesitated. “Luft and I are cool. Enough, anyway. He makes me nervous.”
Drey nodded without pressing me. “Just keep yourself in check. I don’t need to remind you that any accidents, especially any involving the Word of Death, are to be avoided at all costs. Letting yourself get riled up in public won’t give the City Council any much-needed confidence in you. I’m confident in you,” he added, “but it’s not me you need to convince.”
I wanted to retort that I’d kept myself from getting too riled up with Agonya, but then using her as an excuse for my heart rate would have sounded even lamer.
“Right,” I said, looking around and feeling that familiar dread resettle in my stoma
ch. “Which is why we’re here: for me to become the best Word of Death ever.”
Drey stepped aside, and I finally saw what was on the table behind him: a smallish furry shape laid out on a white towel. A cat, with gray tabby stripes. Its eyes were closed, but it was still breathing.
The dread tightened like a fist in my guts. “You think it’ll make it any easier just because it’s asleep—”
“Sedated,” Drey corrected.
“Even so—”
“And dying.”
That gave me pause. Now that I looked at the cat, I noticed its ribs jutting out. Its fur was thin and dull, even gone in spots. It definitely looked sick. “Then we should just let it—”
“It’s in a lot of pain. Feline leukemia.”
“You’re a bastard,” I said, already knowing what was coming.
“I won’t make you, Tavin … and I won’t do this for you, either. I won’t Godspeak through you. But if you don’t do it yourself, the sedative will wear off. You’ll be abandoning this cat to a lot of suffering it doesn’t deserve.”
I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth creaked and made a fist at my sides as I looked at the cat. The Words were already straining, reaching …
Because that was the problem. I did want to kill the damned cat. A part of me wanted to kill everything I could touch. The Words were like an addiction, a seductive voice in my head—actually speaking to me, in my case—trying to convince me to give in. As long as I could ignore the voice, I would still be me. But if I let it take over, what would be left?
But I’d told Drey I would work with him, and he was definitely working with me. This was as far from a cruel death as anything could get. This would be mercy. I couldn’t say no or turn back now, not if I wanted to survive this. And yet it was the first step down a very dark, twisting road—one that I had only a month to walk.
Or one that I had to follow just long enough to figure out how to contact Khaya and get the hell out of here somehow. I could dream, at least.
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