Wordless

by Adrianne Strickland

  “You don’t want to talk; you want to kill us,” I said, my arm unwavering. I had never shot a gun before, but it didn’t seem so difficult. “And you pointed guns at us first, so how about you dropping yours first?”

  “Tavin, I don’t want to kill either of you. Nothing could be further from my thoughts.” A vague smile touched Dr. Swanson’s face just as it vanished from Herio’s—Herio definitely wanted to kill us. “The guns aren’t loaded with bullets, but tranquilizer darts. I will put you both under if I have to, but it would do well for you to come back voluntarily rather than subdued. It will be a more convincing argument against those calling for your blood … proof that this is all just a big misunderstanding.”

  “A misunderstanding?” I spat. “After what you did to Drey?”

  “Drey?” Swanson blinked. “Ah, yes, Andre. He must have given you that gun and other supplies, though not possibly enough to sustain you for long.” He looked us both over, almost with consideration. “I’m sure you’re hungry. Come home, both of you. We can resolve this peacefully if you just—”

  “Peacefully, my ass!” His use of the name Andre and even the word home threw me, especially since he was talking to both me and Khaya—as if he knew where I belonged, too. I forced myself to refocus. “If you don’t want to hurt us, then why is Herio here?”

  “Merely to encourage cooperation—” Swanson began.

  I nodded at the gun I held. “Do I look encouraged?”

  “—from the French,” he finished, giving me a slight frown, as if he found my interruptions rude. Or maybe it was because of the gun I was pointing at him, though he hadn’t seemed to mind much so far. “Herio is quite useful when it comes to intimidation, and he’s France’s representative among the Words. They didn’t like the idea of us using fire in their forest to retrieve you, but with his presence, they came around.”

  “I’ll kill him before he can kill me,” I said, turning the gun on Herio. “I’ll kill him like he killed my dad. I’ve already put down one of your dogs, so this shouldn’t be much different.”

  Herio took a step forward—silent, swift, and smooth, like I’d always imagined Death would move. My finger twitched on the trigger but Dr. Swanson put a hand on Herio’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

  When I realized I’d very nearly shot someone, tingles erupted across my scalp and raced down my spine, raising bumps on my scarred, dirt-smudged arm. My heart was pounding as if Khaya had given me another jolt of energy.

  “Tavin, Tavin,” Swanson said in a soothing tone, giving Herio a hard look. “No one wants to kill you. I wish we could talk more privately, but if you insist upon now … Luft?”

  The Word of Air glanced away from the fire long enough to nod at Swanson, then started muttering in what sounded like German. Swanson walked toward us, ignoring the gun now aimed at his heart, until he was only five feet away. The tingles had spread into my throat, giving me a funny taste in the back of my mouth, and everything was bright and loud, from the sunlight glinting in his hair to the dry lakeshore grass rustling around his shiny leather shoes. My hand was shaking.

  Luft’s Words fell silent even though his lips were still moving. My ears popped, like I’d undergone a rapid change in elevation. I glanced around in alarm, but my smoke-streaked surroundings hadn’t changed. Khaya put a hand on my shoulder, making me jump a second time. It was the same calming gesture Swanson had given Herio, his attack dog, but at least she was no longer looking at me like I was a monster. She stood close, her dark eyes intent on him.

  “Relax, Tavin,” she murmured. “It’s only the air pressure.”

  “One of Luft’s little tricks,” Swanson said, removing an earpiece and dropping it into the breast pocket of his gray jacket. “Now no one can hear us. Not even Luft.”

  But Herio could. He’d followed Swanson as silently as a shadow. His jaw twitched, as if popping his ears when he crossed what must have been the strange sound barrier. I wondered if Swanson knew he was taking part in our little gathering.

  We might have been standing in the open air on the shore of the lake, surrounded by others, but the four of us were essentially alone together. And two of the four were the very last people in the world I wanted to be alone with.

  Pavati and Tu watched Herio, then looked at each other again, holding one another’s gaze for longer than before. They still didn’t say anything. Not that I could have heard them if they had, from within our invisible bubble.

  “You must know, Tavin,” Swanson said, his back to everyone else, his eyes on me, “I’ve only ever wanted what was best for you. I was trying to look out for you in the Athenaeum, to reach out to you. This man you call Drey Barnes—Andre Bernstein—is not your father. I know this because he used to work for me … then against me.”

  “Because you’re evil,” I spat, shaken after hearing Drey’s other name again, one I’d never known. And it was likely his true name. I’d always known the last name he’d given me wasn’t really mine, but now I knew it wasn’t his, either. It wasn’t even real.

  Swanson shook his head, his eyes going strangely soft. “No, Tavin. Not because I’m evil. Because I’m your father.”

  Herio looked as if someone had emptied a trash can of rotting fish over his head. I hadn’t even known his cold, murderous face could make an expression of such horrified shock.

  Mine must have looked about the same.

  Khaya gasped, but I didn’t even glance at her. All I could do was stare at Dr. Swanson as the world rocked around me, my blasted mind able to hold only one thought:

  No, no, no, no …

  I searched his features frantically for proof. His eyes were brown, like mine. His hair might have been like mine without the gray and with more length. He was tall and broad-shouldered. But his skin was lighter; pale, even. Herio could make a stronger claim to be my father, in spite of his youth and better looks.

  But what if Swanson was telling the truth?

  The gun swayed in my grip, and I wondered if I was going to pass out. Then Khaya squeezed my shoulder and I realized my unsteadiness wasn’t entirely my fault. The people outside the bubble were running, their mouths open in silent shouts. The earth had started vibrating.

  Swanson continued talking, too focused on me to notice. “Another misconception you have about Andre is that he is dead. There is still a chance for you to—” But then he felt it. His eyes widened and he turned. “Tu, no—!” His shout died, his hands going to his throat as if he was choking. Herio’s hands shot to his throat at the same time, his eyes narrowing.

  “What?” I cried. “What do you mean? Drey is—”

  A half second later, the earth erupted beneath our feet. Khaya and I were thrown back, away from Swanson and Herio, who tumbled to the ground and were swallowed by heaving dirt.

  Tu and Pavati were the only ones still standing. Tu chanted in time with the tossing earth, as if his voice was the cause. I realized, stupidly late, that of course it was the cause—he was the Word of Earth. Half the guards had lost their guns, and all were on their hands and knees. Agonya and Luft were down like the others, half-buried in dirt.

  “Go!” Pavati shrieked, her braids whipping as she spun and raised a hand toward the lake. “Run!” It was almost like she was pointing and reaching at the same time, and she began chanting, herself.

  Khaya yanked me to my feet, my head spinning and ears ringing, and launched into motion, dragging me along behind her. I crammed the gun in the backpack as we ran, stuffing it into a plastic bag just as we reached the water.

  Something weird was happening in the lake. A huge hole had opened in the surface, twisting down and inward. Basically, a giant whirlpool the size of a parking lot had appeared out of nowhere. Khaya kept tugging me in its direction even after we began wading, ripples from the disturbance crashing into us like ocean waves. The coldness was almost welcome after the heat, but I didn�
��t imagine we were going for a refreshing dip.

  “Khaya, what are we—?”

  “Swim!” she shouted, tugging me under right as the air started lashing and howling like a hurricane. Luft’s voice had risen with the wind to a volume that matched the Word of Earth’s—and then the water drowned it out.

  The world beneath the surface of the lake was calm and quiet in comparison, though I felt the pull of the whirlpool sucking us in. I wasn’t calm. Unlike the last time Khaya had yanked me underwater, I hadn’t gotten a deep breath beforehand. And yet—just like last time—she held on to me with viselike grip, dragging me into the murky blue-green depths where long strands of seaweed stretched up toward the distant sunlight like reaching fingers.

  It only took about ten seconds before I was no longer kicking with her but against her, my hands on her wrist, scrabbling to dislodge her fingers. But her small hand was like steel, twisted in my shirt, and the backpack sank me like a stone.

  My clothes and shoes weren’t helping either. With the tug of the whirlpool, I wouldn’t have made it to the surface even if Khaya wasn’t holding me down. But that didn’t stop me from trying. I wrenched on her hand, and the only reason I didn’t jerk harder was because I didn’t want to break her fingers.

  She was drowning me and I didn’t want to hurt her. Still, my movements were getting more violent, out of control.

  It was then that she pulled up, facing me in the rippling aquamarine shadows. Her dark waves of hair floated around her face like green-black seaweed. I thought she would kick for the surface with me now, or maybe breathe air into my mouth in one of those fairytale moments, saving my life with a kiss.

  Instead, she punched me in the stomach, a quick, sharp jab in my diaphragm, and my remaining air left me in a rush of bubbles.

  I immediately inhaled. My lungs burned as if I’d breathed in acid, and I coughed and wretched in muffled silence, squeezing Khaya frantically, only to breathe in more water. Pain and panic blinded me. I thrashed to get free of it all, but the entire world had turned against me—along with her—to become only pressing, suffocating death.

  I’d said I would probably follow her off a cliff, but I never imagined she would actually kill me.

  I had nowhere to go. My movements became sluggish. Then my hand only floated in front of me, seeming disconnected, as if it was no longer a part of my body. I observed the miniscule bubbles trapped in the hairs of my forearm, then lifted my heavy eyes, which no longer seemed to belong to me either, to peer out through drifting brown hair—maybe my hair at one time.

  Khaya’s face was there in front of me, watching me without expression. And then I saw nothing at all.

  fifteen

  The first thing I felt was my lips, mostly because something soft was pressing against them, and I remembered a dream I’d had of falling endlessly with Khaya kissing me.

  This felt exactly the same.

  Except this time I landed—hard. Or maybe I only became conscious of my back, cold and wet and pressed against a lumpy surface. I was sprawled on the ground and my lungs were filled with bright-hot pain like I’d inhaled molten lava.

  I opened my eyes. Khaya’s face was inches from mine. Her hair dripped on me as she pulled away, her thick eyelashes clinging together in clumps. She wiped a hand across her wet lips.

  “Oh, thank the Gods. Tavin?”

  I opened my mouth to say something and water came out like I was a sculpture in a fountain—volumes of it. I flung myself over just in time to avoid shooting Khaya with the force of a fire hose and vomited again and again with a violence I had never felt before, my back arching and the blood vessels in my eyes feeling as if they would burst from the pressure. It was like the hand of one of the Gods was squeezing me until every drop of liquid was out of my lungs.

  Which was probably a good thing, since I wasn’t able to take a full breath until then. My first lungful of air was both the sweetest and the most painful thing I’d ever tasted. I lay on my stomach and gasped breath after fiery breath, drinking in beautiful air like I’d apparently drunk the lake. My chest sounded like a ripsaw as it rose and fell.

  “Tavin?” Khaya said, hovering somewhere above me. “Talk to me. How do you feel?”

  “I—” I coughed long and excruciatingly hard, spitting up more water and half-expecting to see blood. “I feel like shit.”

  She sighed in relief. “At least you’re alive now.”

  “You mean I wasn’t?” I coughed again, rolling on my side and cringing, then stared at her with one stinging eye. “You—you drowned me.” The words managed to sound incredulous, hurt, and royally pissed off all at once, and that was after making their way through my ragged throat. I was surprised they were even intelligible.

  “Yes. Your heart had stopped beating by the time I got you here. I … ” She paused, her normally warm skin going nearly pale under its wet sheen. Her voice was flat. “I killed you. You’re the first living thing I’ve ever intentionally killed.”

  I sure felt like I’d died. Every part of my body ached. I twitched my pinky just to be positive, and sure enough, it ached, too. But Khaya looked so vulnerable that I couldn’t say all the things I really wanted to say, which would have involved a lot of shouting and swearing.

  “Come on,” I croaked. “Not even a single spider, ever?”

  She frowned down at me. “I once smashed a wasp that stung me, but it was a reflex. You’re definitely the first person I’ve killed.”

  Her frown was better than her blank look, which was always a mask for something terrible.

  “That’s one more person than me. Not a good record for the Word of Life.” I flopped on my back as her frown deepened. “Though I almost beat you to it by the lake there.”

  The lake, where I’d almost pulled the trigger on Herio. Where Swanson had said he was my father, and that Drey was … oh, Gods, Drey. Could he really be alive, and I’d just left him?

  The strangeness of my surroundings dragged my weary mind back to the present. I didn’t resist, since too many things had happened that I wouldn’t—couldn’t—think about, not yet. “Where the hell are we, anyway?”

  Everything was dark blue and green, like I was looking through the lenses of thick sunglasses, and the ground was hard and uneven underneath me. The light was too dim to see far, but it appeared I was lying in a dry riverbed. But that didn’t make sense, since the stones covering the ground were wet and slimy. And now that I looked closer, the darkness around me seemed to be moving.

  “On the bottom of the lake,” Khaya said, as if it were an everyday place to be. “With that whirlpool, Pavati opened a space in the water for us to hide, trapping air down here for us to breathe.”

  The bottom of the lake. So the dark, bubblelike wall that looked like shifting glass was actually a billion gallons of water held over our heads by a single girl. I was too tired and sore to be properly amazed or terrified.

  “Pavati,” I said, picturing the tall girl with braids. “The Word of Water.”

  “Yes, and you saw what Tu, the Word of Earth, did. It was too much for me to hope—but they helped us. I don’t know if they got free themselves. They still had their monitor bracelets on.” She looked at me, anxious. “I’m so sorry, Tavin. I had to get the two of us down here or else we would have been captured. I knew I could revive you if you drowned, but I wouldn’t have been able to do anything if we were caught. And then you were fighting me so much, we both would have drowned if I hadn’t hit you. Please forgive me.”

  “Interesting way to save someone, killing them.” I looked into her wide dark eyes, as liquid and shimmering as everything else around us. I could drown in them as easily as in the lake, but I couldn’t let myself, not right now. It was time to face the truth. “Khaya, I have to go back.”

  She blinked at me. “You must be delirious.”

  “Drey might be alive. If the
re’s even the slightest possibility he is, I have to—”

  “Do what, Tavin? What can you do?” She rode over whatever argument I was about to make. “No, listen to me. Swanson could be lying about Drey, but even if he’s not … once Herio touches someone to kill them, things are set in motion to an inevitable end. The end. He can kill instantly or by increments. You can’t do anything to stop it.”

  Khaya could. But she couldn’t go back; I knew that. Drey wouldn’t have wanted it either. I could go by myself, though without her I was worthless. And yet I had to do something. Even if it meant I only sat by Drey’s bedside while he died. At least I’d have a second chance to tell him how much he meant to me.

  Khaya must have seen the desperate determination in my face, because she leaned over me and smoothed my wet hair back from my forehead. “But a cure to the Word of Death exists. I know about it. My father helped create it, instilling a carrier elixir with the Word of Life. I didn’t recognize the name Drey Barnes, but I have heard of a man named Andre Bernstein. He used to work with my father, under Swanson, designing the cure. He would have had access to it, and it seems he was so well prepared in every other way … do you think Drey might have hidden a vial of it?”

  “The address he gave me.” It was a slim chance, but it was a chance. “He told me I had to get there for a reason. He might have stashed a cure there, and I could bring it to him.” It seemed too good to even be possible, but Khaya nodded as if it was, giving me hope, hovering over me, her lips so close … and something else occurred to me. “Did you kiss me?” I asked abruptly.

  She sat back, looking startled. “It’s called mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. I used Words to jump-start your heart, but then your lungs still needed help to—”

  “Not right now. I mean earlier,” I interrupted. “The first night we slept next to each other.”

  Her lips had felt the same as they had in my “dream”—exactly the same, even if the circumstances were radically different. I couldn’t have imagined them with such accuracy the first time around.