Lifeless

by Adrianne Strickland

  Luft threw his head back and laughed. “I’ll go get her and leave you two alone.” He took a few steps, then paused to look back at me. “You’ll be fine, you know.”

  “Right,” I said with no conviction whatsoever.

  He only shook his head, smiling slightly, and headed for the door. I didn’t watch him leave, or her come in. It really was embarrassing, needing someone you didn’t even know to help handle the darkness inside of you. Although I supposed she was the Word of Darkness.

  Still, in place of Khaya and a vibrant garden, I was getting Mørke and darkness. Not a great trade. I felt like a complete jerk for thinking it, but there it was.

  The door to the hallway slid open and closed. Her steps crunched over the dry grass. She stopped within twenty feet of me, though I could likely run faster than her. Then again, she could just blind me and run in a different direction.

  “Hey again,” she said, in a voice that seemed to be in a permanent state of mild sarcasm.

  “Hey,” I said tentatively. I took my first glance at her. This time she was wearing a lacy black dress and gloves … with very high-heeled black boots. “You’ll definitely want to keep a safe distance. Safer than that.”

  “Nah.” She sat down in the dead grass, arranging her skirt over her knees. If Luft’s hair had been bright, hers glowed in the remaining sunlight.

  “You don’t think I’ll try to kill you?” I purposefully didn’t get up off my back, even at the risk of appearing rude. I’d probably slip into a runners’ starting position if I did, like I had with Luft.

  “Nope.”

  “And why the hell is that?”

  “You like me.” When I lifted my head to give her an incredulous—and probably asshole-ish—look, she added, “Or at least your Word does. See?” And then she said a few things in what I assumed was Norwegian, since that was where her donor parent was from.

  Black tendrils shot out over the ground, weaving like snakes until they were twining around me. I wanted to pull away until … something happened. The Words relaxed inside of me. Kind of like how the normal part of me relaxed around Pie. I suddenly didn’t feel the need to pull away or do much of anything, such as drown the city in blood.

  “That’s … incredibly weird,” I said, laying my head back down. She didn’t say anything, just let the darkness dance over the dead grass, and over me. “So the Word of Death helps you like this, too?” I asked.

  “Yeah, sort of. I haven’t needed it lately, but Death just, I don’t know, gives Darkness more substance or something, so I don’t get lost in it as much.”

  “Sorry. There’s nothing left around here for me to kill.” Except her. But she was right—I didn’t feel the urge to kill her anymore. It was as if the Word of Death had recognized a friend.

  She met my eyes through all of her black eyeliner. “You don’t have to kill anything. Just let the Words run through you, and I’ll feel it.”

  That was exactly what the Words inside of me wanted to do. I closed my eyes—needlessly, with the darkness beginning to slip over my face—and I opened my mind. Death seemed to well up from the dry ground like water, running over my body. The river was all around me again. But it was only the calm that I’d found before, that floating feeling, rather than the deep tug trying to drag me under, down to somewhere frightening. If Death grounded her for whatever reason, Darkness seemed to free me. Float me on top.

  I closed my eyes and let the river carry me.

  thirteen

  I almost felt normal when I left Khaya’s dead garden with Mørke—as normal as I could feel as the Word of Death. The Word was fully present inside of me but calm, leaving me steady and sure rather than homicidal.

  Maybe Tavin and Death could finally begin to coexist peacefully together. Perhaps the Word was like a tool, and could be used either to put old cats to sleep or to eviscerate people. Obviously there were times when it was more dangerous than others, but trying to deny it only seemed to make it hungrier. It seemed better for me to just ride out those moments in privacy … and maybe with a little help from Mørke.

  “Thanks,” I said to her, blinking in the electric light of the hallway outside the garden. The sun had set, and the Athenaeum twinkled below us through the windows, and yet it looked bright to eyes that had been shrouded in total darkness for over an hour.

  She flashed a smile up me—she was a good foot shorter than me. “So … where are you headed? To the mess hall?”

  “Nah, I think I’ll eat in my apartment.” Which probably meant I’d eat a bowl of Captain Crunch for dinner. “I need to hang out with my dog and make sure she hasn’t started chewing on the couch again. And I owe Brehan a session on this racing game of his.” I said all of this before realizing she might have been wanting to hang out with me … beyond sitting next to me in silence and blanketing me in darkness, rather. “Uh, want to come?” I added.

  She made a face before I barely had the invitation out. “Better not.”

  “Oh … because of the whole Darkness versus Light thing?”

  She nodded. “Brehan’s all right. We’re both just kind of … on edge around each other, is all.”

  “Ah, well,” I said, trying not to think how Khaya and I were opposites too now. “Some other time, then?”

  “I’m sure.” She arched a pale eyebrow at me. “Let me know if you need me.”

  “Um … likewise.” It felt odd saying that, seeing as we hardly knew each other, but it was the least I could offer.

  She took my bare hand, which made me blink in surprise. But then she did something vastly more shocking. She stood up on her tiptoes and hugged me. It was quick, but her slight body pressed into mine. And then, before I could do or say anything, she was walking away.

  She headed for the main elevators as if nothing had happened, high-heeled black boots clicking down the hall and black lace dress swishing around her legs. I stared after her in astonishment for a second, and then I bolted for the less-used back elevator. Drey had given me a keycard to access it. That was about all I could access, other than the Death Factory, but I still appreciated it. I especially appreciated the privacy now.

  Okay, that didn’t really mean anything, I told myself as I ducked into the elevator and dragged a hand through my hair. The hand stayed there, squeezing the skull that had had a little too much crammed into it for one day. People often hugged as a way to say hello or goodbye. That was all that was … except that I was the Word of Death and I couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged me.

  So what the hell could it mean? Mørke and I obviously got along easily, so easily it was almost strange. Which probably had more to do with the fact that our Words got along well.

  My hand squeezed my head even tighter, pulling hairs at their roots, but it was nothing compared to the hand that gripped my heart. It would be all too easy: Spend more and more time with Mørke. Do better and better as the Word of Death. Forget about Khaya completely, because everything with Khaya was so hard it was maybe impossible.

  I didn’t know if I could forget about Khaya, but everyone seemed to be telling me that I should try. And yet, without her, without even the thought of her to help me resist the Word of Death—rather than help me get along with it, like Mørke did—where would I end up? Who would I be?

  I wasn’t sure I would be Tavin anymore. But maybe being Tavin was just too hard. Maybe I was fooling myself and hadn’t entirely been him for a while now.

  I dropped my hand. I couldn’t start thinking like that. I didn’t know what I should do, but I was right on one count—I’d had enough for one day. I needed to turn off my brain.

  By the time I visited Brehan’s end of our hallway a half-hour later, with Pie in my arms, I’d just about shoved the horror of the chimpanzee and the confusing situation with Mørke out of my mind. Pie had helped with that. I was still picking couch fluff out of her mouth when B
rehan opened the door.

  “Is she so sweet she spits up cotton candy?” he asked, holding the door open for me.

  “Want to try some?” I held out a slobbery piece and he cringed away, as I’d hoped. “It’s couch-stuffing. Pie has reached the adorable stage where she eats furniture.”

  “Man, the jade leather one? That’s a nice couch.”

  “She thinks so too.”

  “Well, let’s see how she likes mine,” Brehan said, closing the door behind us. “I’m joking. If she eats my couch, I’ll turn into the Word of Dog Slippers. Shit will hit the fan.”

  “I’m sure she could help you out with the shit too. There’s no shortage at my place.”

  He laughed and then led the way into his apartment.

  Although Brehan and I had hung out a few times in the past week, this was the first time I’d managed to get Pie and myself to his place, as close as it was. His apartment was pretty awesome, bright and open with spherical, ornate brass lamps hanging all over the place that looked like small suns. Gold shot through the creamy marble of his counter tops, and shades of yellow were in abundance on the walls and furniture.

  “It’s … sunny in here, for lack of a better word,” I said, grinning. I set Pie down and she immediately ran to sniff everything in the vicinity. “Kind of reminds me of … never mind, that’s a stupid comparison.”

  “No, what?” Brehan said, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Spit it out.”

  “I guess it reminds me of the garage where I grew up with Drey. Obviously not in how that place looked,” I said quickly, “but he painted the walls bright yellow, kind of like that shade in the living room, because he said I needed more sunlight in there.” Before Brehan could say it sounded cool or something, even though it didn’t, I added, “We drove by there when Drey and I got to leave the Athenaeum last week, which is probably why I thought of it.”

  “Was that when you got jumped by the junkyard dog?” Brehan said, turning for the fridge.

  “Yep. More like when I jumped it. It wasn’t doing anything but being a vicious psycho in its own home before I got there. In any case, I definitely haven’t gotten out since then, and I probably won’t ever aga—is that beer ?”

  Brehan had already pulled two brown bottles out of the fridge, set them on the counter, and dug a bottle opener out of a drawer by the time I recognized the logo. He grinned as he popped off the caps and handed me an open bottle before the metallic clatter had died.

  “Cheers,” he said, raising his beer to clink with mine.

  I still couldn’t quite get over what I was seeing and holding. “They allow you to have beer?”

  “It’s all about how politely you ask. You’ve seen my gaming setup, right?” He pointed with his bottle toward the living room and then took a swallow. He tilted the beer back, as if examining the contents. “There’s some concern about alcohol and lack of judgment with how we might use the Words, but Mira trusts me. What, Drey wouldn’t get you any?”

  “He’d only just started offering me one once in a while when … well, when ‘shit hit the fan’ and my career in garbage was cut short. I guess I hadn’t thought to ask him for some here yet.” I hesitated, eyeing my bottle, cold with condensation in my hand. “Probably because he’d say no, since lack of judgment and the Word of Death especially don’t go well together.”

  At that, I laughed and took a massive swallow. What better way to take my mind off of things? Crisp, slightly bitter liquid fizzed its way down my throat. Stifling a burp, I said, “Gods, that’s good.”

  “So tell me about the garage.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t want to hear about that.”

  Brehan rolled his eyes. “That’s why I asked. So, sunny yellow walls and … ?”

  I took another fizzing gulp and moved into the living room. “I can’t. I just need to forget about it. After all, sunny apparently doesn’t do it for me anymore. Only darkness.”

  “Ah, so you found out about that,” he said, following me. “All of that just has to do with the Words, man, not you. You can still like sunshine even if the Word of Death likes the dark.” He gave me a mock-suggestive grin.

  I shrugged, not wanting to go into the details about Mørke whatsoever, and threw myself down on the couch, careful not to spill my beer on the tapestry-like upholstery. It looked like it actually had gold thread in there with all the creamy silk. “So show me this gaming system of yours.”

  Brehan sighed. But he showed me, turning on the flat screen TV and the black box nearby.

  As a joke I chose, from among our ridiculous options, a car with huge chrome tailpipes, shiny black paint, and a skull-and-crossbones plastered across the hood. As if to make a point, Brehan chose an incongruous blue one with white speed-stripes. In no time at all I was laughing my ass off trying to ram him off the road. And then a couple—or four—more beers might have left the fridge while we raced around what was supposedly the city of L.A. at insane speeds.

  At some point, driving a virtual car down a virtual street, I was struck again by the feeling that I didn’t belong in the world anymore. I was something inhuman, external

  … eternal. Or at least the Word was—the Word of one of the Two Nameless Gods who’d created everything. Part of me wanted to shudder, and part of me was in awe. Or maybe that was just the beer going to my head.

  And then I remembered my mortality when I accidentally careened into a wall at top speed and blew up.

  Brehan stretched, yawning wide. I tossed my controller down on the couch next to me and rubbed my bleary eyes. Pie was already asleep between us.

  “It must be that time,” I said. I stood and stretched too … and then promptly sat back down. “Gods, I guess I don’t have much of a tolerance. Three beers and I’m done.”

  He laughed. “We’ll practice.”

  I nodded. “Practice drinking beer. Practice torturing intelligent mammals to death. All in a day’s work.” I was surprised I said that. I doubted I would have if I hadn’t been drunk.

  “That sucks,” Brehan said, his face growing serious. For once he wasn’t trying to cheer me up.

  I attempted standing again with reasonable success, and picked up Pie as I did. “Yeah. But I’ll be fine. I’m already getting the hang of it. Getting used to it.”

  Getting used to death. All I needed was enough practice to condition me, enough darkness to blind me, and enough beer to lull me, and apparently I could get used to anything.

  Brehan’s nod was grim. For a second, it looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t.

  “What?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I just have this feeling, you know. That everything’s going to be all right for you.”

  “Weird.” I hiccupped. “People keep telling me that, and I keep not believing them. Anyway, I’m going to crash.”

  When I stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind me, I realized I was wrong about crashing. And “people” were definitely wrong, on top of that. Because Drey stood in the hallway, which at this time of night meant I wouldn’t be all right.

  It hit me like a punch in the kidney that I was starting to dread the sight of him. It didn’t help that he had a small entourage: Swanson and Carlin. Luft’s Godspeaker was of medium height and skin-tone, with a widow’s peak and a black goatee that gave his face a sharp, angular appearance. My biological father looked the same as usual: tall and pale with neat silver-streaked hair and an immaculate gray suit. No wonder he didn’t want to be my Godspeaker. He would have had to get dirty.

  “I didn’t do anything,” I blurted out first thing, which was about as good as shouting, I’ve been drinking beer!

  “I know,” Drey said.

  So it wasn’t about the beer. Drey looked nervous, which made me fifty times more nervous than if it had just been about the beer.

  “It’s good t
hat you’re still up,” he continued, “otherwise I would have had to wake you. Put Pie inside your apartment and let’s go.”

  “No,” I said, but I walked down the hall and slipped Pie in the door anyway. I didn’t want her to get mixed up in whatever was going on. Marching back to Drey, I practically hissed, “I already killed a damned chimpanzee today, and it’s after midnight. What do you want with me?”

  In the past, I would never have spoken to him like that. It was another sign of how far we’d come—how far we’d fallen.

  I rounded on Swanson. “And what the hell do you want?”

  Swanson only gave me a stony look, which was as much as I expected.

  “You shouldn’t take that tone with your father,” Drey said, but he sounded awkward and half-hearted. Everyone knew he was way more of a father to me … or, at least, he used to be.

  I wasn’t concerned about awkwardness, not at this hour. “He hasn’t exactly been around enough lately—or ever—for me to give a rat’s—”

  “A situation has arisen,” Swanson interrupted, just as I was getting warmed up. He gestured down the hall, toward the elevator. “And you need to come with us. I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  fourteen

  Drey shot Swanson a stern look, as if they were a bickering married couple, which would have made me laugh under normal circumstances. But he didn’t challenge Swanson’s edict that I had to go with them, in spite of the fact that it was middle of the night and I was headed to bed. Not to mention that I was exhausted and a bit drunk.

  “Come on,” Drey said, gesturing down the hallway to the elevator like Swanson had. “I’ll explain on the way.”

  “This can’t be good.” It was another thing I wouldn’t have said aloud if not under the influence … and not the last thing. “So why are they here?” I nodded at Swanson and Carlin.

  Drey didn’t answer. Neither did the other two, but there was an awkwardness lingering between all of them as they moved for the elevator with me in their wake. Swanson must’ve been there to make sure Drey did whatever he was supposed to do, and maybe Carlin was backup. The first step was to drag me out of bed, obviously, and I wondered what the rest of it would involve.