Lifeless

by Adrianne Strickland

  And then Mørke came by.

  The afternoon sun was sinking in the sky outside when I heard the soft tap on my bedroom door, and then her voice. “Tavin, it’s me. Can I help with anything?”

  I didn’t want help becoming a murderer anymore. I wanted to destroy the murderer inside of me, even if that meant destroying myself.

  I was tempted to just ignore her like I had everyone else, but I didn’t want her to start speaking Words of Darkness through the doorway. And she just might, since she was clearly here to calm me down—whether that meant someone had sent her or she’d come on her own.

  “No … thanks,” I said, which was about all I could muster. It was muffled, from where the pillow lay half over my face to block the light.

  Maybe she hadn’t heard me, because she opened my bedroom door. I wished it had a lock. Then again, a lock hadn’t done much good for the outer apartment door.

  “I’m not really in the mood for visitors.” I spoke without looking at her, my eyes still shielded.

  When she didn’t answer, I glanced out from underneath the pillow and glimpsed the bottom half of her standing by my bedside. Her nails were now painted a purple so deep they were nearly black.

  “How’d you get in?” I asked, since she still hadn’t said anything.

  “Brehan,” she said. She’d tolerated his presence enough to have him let her in, apparently.

  “So he thinks I need help too? Remind me to get my keycard back from him.”

  The slight shift of her weight settling on the bed made me yank the pillow the rest of the way off my face and myself into a sitting position.

  “I said no, Mørke.”

  Again, she didn’t shy away or leap up from where she sat on the edge of the bed or anything sane like that. Her eyes only narrowed for a second, looking fiercer than they probably would have if they weren’t lined in so much black. The rays of the dying sun turned her hair into a glowing aura around her face.

  Her voice was mildly indignant. “I’m not doing anything.” She hesitated. “Though the Word of Darkness is more effective than a pillow, you know.”

  I scrubbed a hand over my face. I couldn’t imagine how bad I looked, but I didn’t really care. Because I still probably looked a hell of a lot better than the guy I’d just killed. “I don’t want help. I don’t want … anything.”

  “Well, then can’t I just hang out?”

  Such a simple question, and yet I felt like I was leaning over a cliff, staring at where I could end up with just a single step. So simple. So easy.

  I took a deep breath, and in my mind I took a step back from the edge. “I told you, now’s not the best time.”

  She looked down, her pale eyelashes glowing now. “Okay.” She reached out, resting her hand on the bedcovers somewhere in the vicinity of my knee. “I’ll be around if you change your mind.” And then she slipped out of the room as quietly as she’d entered, an apparition of contrasting darkness and brightness.

  Once she’d gone, I rolled over and stuffed the pillow over my head again.

  Luft never came, but then Luft had known what was going to happen last night. That explained the worried look he’d given me. And yet he hadn’t tried to warn me. Brehan, and even Luft himself, had admitted Luft was loyal to Carlin above all else, and Carlin … Not only was he involved in what had happened last night, but I had darker suspicions about him. It seemed like Luft had been trying to help me when he’d saved me from Ryse and wrote me that secret note, but then something—or someone—had convinced him to stop. And then he told me not to try to reach Khaya, and to accept being the Word of Death instead.

  Which was the exact opposite of what I needed to do.

  I had to get to her. She was my last hope, or I would be finished. I knew this now. I couldn’t just let myself slip into the skin of a monster and still live with myself.

  So when Drey came, I got up and opened the door. Because of course he wasn’t coming over to just hang out. I imagined whatever he had to say had to do with the important message someone had been trying to give me earlier—which likely had to do with my new assignment to assassinate someone. Swanson had said I would be debriefed today. He’d also implied that the mission would take me out of Eden City.

  It was my last chance to escape.

  Drey held a black folder in his hands when I let him in. He didn’t say anything, only took it to the dining table and laid it open for me. Inside were quite a few typed documents that didn’t hold my attention for long before I saw the glossy photograph inside—a photo of the man I was supposed to kill.

  I recognized him.

  “He was there in the Alps,” I said, picking up the picture. “He was the man who came to meet Tu, to take him to China.” Just like in person, the man’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  “His name is Jiang Zhijun—Dr. Jiang,” Drey said.

  Of course the guy would be a doctor, I thought. It seemed like everyone here was, so why not members of other governments? It was a step up from Mr., although still short of Your Majesty.

  “He’s a Chinese diplomat,” Drey continued, “who has spent his life studying Eden City’s relationship with the rest of the world.”

  “Didn’t like what he saw, huh? Most people don’t when they look a little bit closer.”

  Drey took the photo back, and replaced it in my hand with some documents I was probably supposed to read. “I can’t imagine why. Anyway, as you well know, he overstepped the boundaries of diplomacy when he tried to direct Tu to China. He has since claimed that wasn’t his intention, and that the whole thing was one big misunderstanding. Apparently he was planning to return all of you to Eden City under the guise of sheltering you.”

  That certainly hadn’t been what it had sounded like. Tu’s plan had been to go with Dr. Jiang back to China, but then he learned that Jiang had convinced the Swiss to facilitate it by agreeing to give them Pavati in exchange—which Tu wasn’t about to let happen. The Swiss, meanwhile, had made their own deal, arranging to trade me and Khaya back to Eden City in exchange for the City Council giving up Pavati and Tu without a fuss.

  It hadn’t worked out like that. I hadn’t even known that Dr. Jiang had survived our pitched battle out in the snow. With all four of the powerful Tangible Words involved in the fight, not many people had. But at least Khaya, Pavati, and Tu had escaped. I hadn’t, of course.

  I let the documents fall back onto the table. “So now Eden City wants him dead,” I said, tugging out a chair and taking a seat. “Big surprise. I guess it’s fitting that I’ll be the one to kill him, since I screwed up his little plan in the first place.”

  Drey tapped the papers back into an orderly stack. “Remember, Dr. Jiang doesn’t know you’re the Word of Death. No one does, outside of a select few. So while Jiang likely suspects an assassination attempt will be made, he won’t think you’re there for that purpose. In fact, he has already agreed to meet you.”

  I blinked. “How? Why? He might not know I’m the Word of Death, but if he knows I’m coming from Eden City—”

  “He doesn’t,” Drey said, nodding at the documents with an exasperated look. “At the direction of the City Council, undercover agents have already arranged it, pretending to be you. According to what they’ve told him, you were separated in the chaos from the Words who’ve gone rogue, and now you’re on the run. You’re going to approach him with a deal—a fake deal, of course. We know he’s the last person to have been in contact with Tu, and by extension, Khaya. If he agrees to take you to Khaya, you will promise him—and China—the support of the rogue Words.”

  It was a deal I was damned-near willing to actually make, never mind how I would convince the “rogue” Words to go along with it. Too bad it was fake.

  Unless I could actually make it happen.

  “So then I just … kill him?” I asked, waving a hand like it was no b
ig deal.

  I didn’t know, I didn’t know …

  “You’ll pretend to give him time to think it over and to contact or locate Tu,” Drey said, oblivious to my silent chanting. “But when you shake his hand, use your Word in a way that won’t kill him immediately, but slowly, painfully, and inexplicably. You’ll have to mix the Words in with a speech, in a way that won’t give you away. I’ve drafted some possible suggestions … ” He shuffled through the stack and pulled out a few papers.

  I only half-looked at them. “Nice—a death speech, sort of like a backwards eulogy. So who will be with me? They couldn’t possibly trust me enough to send me alone.”

  “I’ll be with you. More would look suspicious. You’re supposed to be a fugitive, after all, with no ties to Eden City. Besides, Jiang only agreed to meet the two of us. We’ll have backup, but they’ll stay out of sight at a safe distance.”

  Distant enough for me to lose them, I hoped, after I took care of a few problematic details. That was good news. There was still the slight problem of Drey being with me, but it was a small one in the grand scheme of things. “Will you … help me do it, if I can’t?”

  Drey shook his head. “I can’t reveal who you are. If I step in and start godspeaking, the world will know. And then they’ll also know Eden City has essentially started a war with China.”

  Perfect. Drey wouldn’t force me. But I couldn’t act like that was a good thing, or that anything about this plan was good. I tapped the photo on the table, sounding dubious. “They’re going to know something is up if this guy dies.”

  “They’ll have suspicions. Fear. That’s different—nothing concrete to rally around.”

  “So, since Eden City can’t invade the rest of the world without Khaya, they’re just going to start assassinating anyone who disagrees with them?”

  “I can’t say. But I can say I’m under strict orders not to assist you in any way, only in the extreme case that your life is at risk. For once this is all you, Tavin. I’m sorry, but a lot is riding on your shoulders.” He hesitated, reshuffling the papers. “I’m also worried. I know all of this is happening much faster than either you or I would like. But the City Council wants you to be ready for what’s coming. They only want you to succeed, I’m sure.”

  Which meant he thought they wanted me to fail. Or at least someone wanted me to.

  “So you can’t disappoint them,” he continued. “We can’t disappoint them. You must complete this mission.”

  We. The word contained several people’s fates: mine, Drey’s, and Swanson’s. We were surrounded by those who wanted to see us hang ourselves with our own rope—

  particularly Ryse, and those in the City Council whose support she had gained. But there was a way for me to fail and for Drey and me to survive, at least: our escape. Swanson would just have to fend for himself.

  Because if I succeeded in my mission, I wouldn’t survive.

  I didn’t know, I didn’t know …

  “You once encouraged me to gain people’s admiration, not their fear,” I murmured aloud, looking up at Drey. “Remember that? What happened to that?”

  He met my eyes. “Keeping you alive and sane is what happened.”

  I gave him a non-smile. “Sometimes I’d rather be dead.”

  He leaned back from the table, a wince flickering across his face so fast it was almost like it wasn’t there. “I’m sorry. I’ve tried to do the best I can under the circumstances. With any luck, things will settle into a more normal routine for you.”

  “A routine of killing political figures. Sounds good.” I barked a laugh before I hopped up from the chair. “You know, in a sick way, I’m still taking out the Athenaeum’s trash.”

  “Tavin—”

  We’d avoided talking about last night so far, and I wanted to keep it that way. “When do we leave?” I interrupted, heading for the bedroom to change my clothes.

  “Tonight. We’re flying to Beijing just before midnight.”

  I froze only a few steps from the table, my pulse pounding in my throat and making it hard to breathe. “Wow. Swanson said ‘soon,’ but I didn’t think it would be this soon. Not really leaving me much time to prepare, are they?”

  Drey shook his head, leaving the obvious unspoken: I was supposed to wimp out and return to the Athenaeum as a failure. Maybe they didn’t care if this Dr. Jiang actually lived or died.

  “How long will we be gone?” I asked. Never mind that I had no intention of ever coming back.

  “Only six hours. Long enough to meet with Jiang and leave. There will be no time for mistakes or second attempts.”

  “I’m taking Pie,” I blurted. “She’ll help take my mind off of things, before and … after. It’ll be easier with her there.”

  Drey hesitated, and for a moment I was worried that he knew what I was thinking. But then he said, “I’m sure that can be arranged. And there’s no need to pack anything else. I have civilian clothes for you.”

  Right, because I was no longer a civilian.

  He retrieved a black backpack from the hallway and unpacked it on the table. Luckily, the clothes inside weren’t black. The shirt was long sleeved and dark blue, and there were a pair of denim jeans, white socks, and sturdy brown boots. Drey couldn’t easily godspeak through me with this outfit, which meant he was actually telling the truth. He wouldn’t use me to kill Jiang once I made my real plan obvious … which didn’t involve killing Jiang whatsoever.

  When he pulled out the front-zipping gray hoodie, I saw that the sleeves had thumb holes—to make sure they stayed down over my monitor bracelets, I realized. I had no idea if Jiang would know what the black bands around both my wrists were, but someone thought he might. And then he’d know there was something very wrong with my story.

  If I didn’t tell him the real story first.

  “We could just take these off, you know,” I said, lifting my forearms with their ever-present monitors.

  At a glance, they almost looked like black plastic bracelets, but everyone in the Athenaeum, at least, knew them for the highly sophisticated tracking devices they were. There wasn’t much chance I could leave here without them, but at least I could try. If it worked, it’d make part of my plan a hell of a lot easier, or at least eliminate an unknown. I was only operating under the hopeful assumption that Jiang would know how to get them off quickly, especially since China had been trying to get their hands on Tu for a while. Tu had removed his monitor on his own, with Pavati’s help, but Jiang wouldn’t have been expecting that. Which led me to believe that Jiang must have easy, spur-of-the-moment access to something that could do the job. But I didn’t know that for sure, and I wouldn’t know until I asked him face-to-face.

  Drey shook his head. “You know that’s not possible. I don’t need to remind you that you can’t—”

  “Can’t what, make a joke?”

  “Try anything. And no, you can’t joke about this.”

  “This wouldn’t be a life-or-death situation, would it?” I swept the clothes up off the table. “Don’t you think I know? And the bracelets will look pretty damned suspicious if someone notices them.”

  “Metal detectors won’t pick them up.”

  “And what if the person patting me down finds them? What if they ask me to take them off? Oh right, I’ll just ask whoever it is to pardon me while I cut off both my thumbs somehow.” I rolled my eyes as if the thought was absurd and then headed for the bedroom again, new clothes in my arms.

  Drey sighed. “Let’s hope no one notices them. They shouldn’t. Cruithear’s technology is well-guarded.”

  I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “She made these?”

  He nodded.

  How ironic. As the Word of Shaping, she was the only one who had a monitor inserted into her brain instead of worn around her wrist, since she could have simply re-shaped the bracelet to get it off
. Reshaping her brain would kill her. At least my last resort of losing both thumbs—temporarily, I hoped—was better than that.

  I appreciated my thumbs a lot while getting dressed. Last resort or not, it might come down to that, but I’d gladly let Jiang hack them off if it meant I could be free from Eden City. I didn’t think Jiang would mind too much, since the only alternative I’d offer would be his speedy demise. Not that I would kill him, but he didn’t have to know that. All he’d know was that he’d stand to gain the possible support of the rogue Words, including me … and also his life.

  And that deal was better than anything the City Council could have me pretend to offer him.

  sixteen

  The clothes were the first normal things I’d worn in a while, and they fit well. And yet I still felt like an impostor, both in the mirror in my bedroom that evening and getting off the jet in Beijing, China, at four p.m. the next day. It was a private jet, of course, so no one bothered Drey or me within our ring of well-dressed security guards when we disembarked. But I still felt like a handgun hidden in somebody’s bag, not like a filthy rich kid from Liechtenstein flying around the world with my filthy rich dad and my purebred greyhound puppy. The ten-hour flight, plus the six-hour time difference, had done nothing to persuade my subconscious otherwise, even though Drey and I had gone over the plan about five hundred times on the plane.

  Rich father and son were our pretend roles for now, Drey’s and mine, at least as far as the airport went. My shiny new Liechtenstein passport confirmed it for the customs official waiting on the tarmac just for us. I also had a passport with my real name in my backpack, complete with battered edges, dirt stains, and supposedly all of the right stamps in order for me to have trekked all the way from the Swiss Alps to Beijing, if Jiang felt like cross-checking the made-up facts of the other pretend story. Apparently, producing all sorts of forgeries on short notice to back up whatever lies they wanted to tell was no problem for the City Council, with the Word of Shaping on hand.