twenty-four

Swanson had given me the idea, really.

The house had a computer that was set up for video calls, which meant it had a camera and a microphone. I booted it up and went to find a shirt. From the upstairs bedroom closet, I borrowed a white tee and blue long-sleeved plaid shirt that were made for someone shorter and pudgier than me, but a little shaping fixed that. I also fixed my ridiculous straight blond hair in the bathroom mirror, changing it back to normal.

Next on my short mental list was a suitable prop. Outside, sitting on the ground next to the porch stairs, I discovered a flowerpot filled with some newly sprouting grass. I lifted the pot and carried it inside. Plunking it on the desk, I sat down in the computer chair, opened a recording program, and clicked the record button.

“Hi,” I said. My voice was pretty rough. Maybe I should have found a throat lozenge too. “My name is Tavin Barnes. I’m the Word of Death and, what do you know, I’m also the Word of Shaping.”

Demonstration time. I looked at the potted grass and told it to die, with my hand a good two feet away from it. Blackness shot across the open space and did the job in a half a second.

“Need more proof?” I asked the camera. “Well, take a good look, because this is the last time anyone is going to see.” I pivoted in the chair and bared my back to my shoulders. I counted to five and then yanked my shirt down. Spinning back around, I scooted up to the desk again. “See that? Yeah, I couldn’t make sense of it either. I might not be the world’s best reader, but I think it’s too mixed and moving for even a Godspeaker to make much out of.”

I’d made that interesting discovery in the bathroom mirror—the Words running together like bleeding ink, Words of both Death and Shaping. I wasn’t sure, but I guessed it would take a team of Godspeakers years of studying me to figure out how to use me. An opportunity I had no intention of giving them.

I shrugged at the camera. “If you didn’t think this was possible, well … neither did I. Nor did Eden City, for that matter. And so I’m not there anymore. I got out, because they can’t control me anymore. But they tried for a long time, and took almost everything that mattered from me.”

I closed my eyes for a second, until I could continue. “They do whatever they want with the Words, just like they do whatever they want with the rest of the world. The Godspeakers hold the real power. We’re prisoners there.” I leaned back in the chair and folded my fingers together on the desk. “And it’s time for it to end.”

My voice hardened as I imagined addressing the City Council. “It’s time for you, Eden City, to stop pushing everyone around with strength that doesn’t belong to you. Four of us Words have escaped now … five, if you count me twice. You’re losing your power. No one has to listen to you anymore. And the remaining four Words should be free if they want to be. Give them the choice, or else face consequences like this—like me.”

If my voice had been hard before, it was nothing to what it sounded like now.

“And if you think for one second you can come after me, think again. I’m beyond your reach. You can’t use me anymore. If you try, I swear to the Gods I will tear a hole in the Athenaeum so large that the rest of the world will see you for the parasites you really are, and then I will rain death and destruction down on your heads.”

It probably wasn’t everyday that someone got to say that, and even less often that someone could actually deliver on the threat.

I could, and I would. If they decided to test me, I would turn the entire Athenaeum into a Death Factory.

But I didn’t want to. I really only wanted one thing. I took a deep breath, cleared my throat, and forced calm into my tone.

“Mostly, I just want to see someone again. I have a message for the Word of Life: Khaya.” Saying her name when she could actually be listening took any remaining anger out of my voice. Her name tasted sweet on my tongue, so I said it again. “Khaya, tell the person who only wanted a sofa, a good book, and a cup of tea to go to a place similar to where you and I first kissed—really kissed—but bigger. Remember, you taught me its name. And then you’ll know where to find me … if you want to.”

I clicked the stop button.

From there, it wasn’t difficult to surf the web until I got the emails of the top news stations in every major European city. I added Beijing and Washington, D.C. to the list too, just for kicks. Under my name, Tavin Barnes, I made an email account—deathandshaping@roguewords.web—thankful that I could at least type now. Then I attached the video clip and hit send.

It might take someone a few days to notice it, and a couple more to verify that it wasn’t a hoax. But then it would be absolutely everywhere. Tu, at least, was probably monitoring the news, so it was my best chance of reaching Khaya.

This was how Swanson had gotten a message to me when Khaya and I were on the run—a news broadcast. Of course, it would also mean that everyone would be on the lookout for me, like they’d been before. And, of course, someone would be able to pinpoint the location that the video was sent from. I was sure I had some time, days, but I didn’t want to take any chances. Besides, I had a rendezvous to make.

I stood up and maneuvered around Pie, who’d been trying—mostly successfully—to eat my shoelaces while the video was recording. I went into the kitchen and stuffed some cans of food—for both cats and humans—into a pillowcase, along with a jug of water and a couple of bowls. And then I got into the car with Pie and drove away.

The midnight blue Audi was nice, but I traded it in the next town for a more subtle car of French make. And then I drove to the southern shore of Lake Eden. Or Lac Léman, as the rest of the world called it.

Khaya had first told me that name, and we’d first kissed under another lake. Pavati—who’d told me all she wanted out of life was a sofa, a good book, and a cup of tea—also happened to be the Word of Water, so she was about the only person who could walk around under a lake to find a message.

Aside from me. But I was the one who’d be leaving the message.

I slipped into the lake from a chilly, empty stretch of the shore, shaping a discreet tunnel into the water. I had to shape the ground into something firmer and less muddy, but it was manageable.

It didn’t take long for the lake to get deep where I was. That was why I’d brought the flashlight. Soon it looked like I was walking through a tunnel of black glass. I trekked only a few miles out along the lake-bottom, shaped a note, set it on the ground, and pinned it down with a rock. From there, I shaped a series of underwater tunnels spiraling outward from that spot like a twirling starfish. Pavati couldn’t miss it. If she came across even one of the tunnels, she’d be able to follow it to the center. I shaped a quick shaft skyward through the water, only a foot in diameter, for air. Then I followed my first tunnel back to shore and closed it.

While I waited for the news to break, I located a cabin in the mountains that looked like it hadn’t been used in years, all the while stealing a new car every day. Drey would have given me shit for that, but I always returned them. Rather, I left them in a different spot, for the owner to eventually find. I also “borrowed” some younger guy’s wallet in a cafe, but only long enough to duplicate the ID, with my face instead of his.

I also might have left the guy short a few euros, since one of my activities to kill time soon had become shaping more of them. A sculptor needed a model, after all. I went through a stack of old newspapers, using the paper, and, after trial and error, ended up with a pretty nice stack of money in its place. I was sure someone, somewhere, would be able to identify them as forgeries, but I sure couldn’t tell the difference. They had a watermark and holographic stripe and everything.

I needed money because, even if I could shape a sandwich or a cup of coffee, it still weirded me out. I wasn’t quite sure what was actually in it, and besides, no amount of shaping could make it hot. I went grocery shopping in the nearest town the second day, stocking up on dog food for Pie, human food for me, water, propane for the cabin stove, and clothes. As far as clothes went, I didn’t even look at what I was buying since I could easily change the color and shape on my own without worrying about having to eat them after.

I actually didn’t mind shaping my own clothes. There was no black or red. Nothing that zipped in the back. I made everything comfortable and loose enough to breathe, unlike those stupid Necron suits.

In spite of the changes, I still woke up screaming every night.

On the third day, I was sitting in a cafe sipping a cappuccino when I saw my face on the TV. It didn’t look exactly like I looked now, since I was currently sporting short auburn hair, a trim beard, a blue blazer, and nice Italian brown leather shoes—well, the Tavin-made rip-offs. In the video I looked pretty haggard, with regard to both my face and that blue flannel shirt I’d already reshaped into something else. But the point was, the news was out.

My video clip repeated all day long on almost every news station. It was weird to see myself everywhere, sometimes talking, sometimes frozen in still-shots with people attempting to analyze what the hell I’d done to the pot of grass or what was on my back.

More importantly, you had to be living under a rock not to see it. Khaya might indeed be living under one, thanks to Tu, but it would be hard for even them to miss this. So once I was satisfied with what I’d seen, I hopped into the most recent car I’d acquired, picked up Pie from the cabin, and drove to a town closer to the lake. I booked a hotel for a few nights, since I figured it could take a while.

It didn’t. It was only the next day that a tall, dark-skinned girl strode into yet another coffee shop with giant sunglasses, a black leather jacket, and a magnificent smile on her face. She’d already spotted me, even with my auburn hair and beard—probably because under my tan jacket, I was sporting a hot pink shirt with a white skull-and-crossbones.

She strolled up to my table, her smile threatening to split her face in half.

Bad image, I thought when the Word of Death began suggesting ways to make good on that. I silenced the whisperings as best I could.

She reined her grin in only a little to clear her throat and say, “Why hello … Sven. It’s been so long. Just so you know, your shirt really clashes with your hair.”

I stood, grinning nearly as widely. “Ester. You, my friend, are a sight for sore eyes.”

She spared enough time to grimace over the name I’d chosen for her, and then we seized each other in a rib-creaking embrace. Pavati gave as good as she got when it came to that.

When she finally released me, she said, “Found your rather damp message to meet here.” She sat next to me, pulling her sunglasses down enough to glance around. “Quaint.”

“They have tea,” I said, sipping my coffee.

She grinned again, but what she said afterward was more serious. “I’m not sure I want to get too comfortable. Certain individuals, namely my boyfriend”—I raised my eyebrows at that—“think that I’m going to run off with you and never return.” She laughed. “Or, worse yet, that you’ll get your other lovely lady friend in on it.”

Tu would think this could be a trap set by the Athenaeum … and for pretty good reason, I had to admit.

“He should trust me,” I said, holding her eyes, trying to communicate more than our limited innuendo could. “I’ve had plenty of opportunity for that already. What can I say, I’m a changed man, breaking out of the mold.”

She sputtered a laugh. “You’re telling me. Want to get the hell out of here?”

“Yes,” I said gratefully.

She stood and practically pulled me out of my seat, then linked arms with me as we left the cafe. I steered her toward my car, but she already seemed to know the way.

“We were watching the place before you went in,” she said under her breath.

“Ah. So will a certain individual crush me with a boulder if I try to take you for a ride?” I muttered out of the side of my mouth.

“Nope, because he’s already in the car, lying in wait behind the driver’s seat.” She rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. “You left the door unlocked, genius.”

I shrugged. “Locks aren’t much of a concern for me anymore.” I opened the passenger door of my pewter gray BMW for Pavati, and then moved around to the driver’s side. I slid in, closed the door, and said, “Hello, Tu.”

“Drive,” his voice said behind me. “Now. And if you don’t go exactly where I tell you, we’ll end up in a ditch even if I have to gouge one into the road. And hi,” he added. “It’s cool to see you, man, but it would be a whole lot cooler if we don’t all end up back in the Athenaeum.”

I couldn’t help smiling as I started the car and pulled out onto the street. “For some crazy reason, it’s cool to see you too … maybe because even your face is better than seeing Swanson’s all day.” My attempt to make light of it sounded only a bit forced. “And, like I already told Pavati, I have no intention of ever going back to the Athenaeum. Nor do I intend for you guys to either,” I quickly added.

“So you expect me to believe that you just walked out of there?” he demanded, still too low in the back seat for me to actually see in the rear-view mirror. “Turn right.”

I turned. Luckily, we were headed in a direction I needed to go. “When you can walk through walls, it’s less difficult to believe,” I told him. I couldn’t help sounding a bit smug. But then I thought of Cruithear and felt awful.

“Yeah, and there’s that, too. I saw what you did in the video, and it was a nice act, but there’s no way you can be the Word of Shaping and Death. That’s imposs … ”

My eyes still on the road, I reached over the center armrest to slide Pavati’s sunglasses off her face. She only had time to blink before I said, “Miniature pyramid, like the Athenaeum,” and her sunglasses morphed into exactly that, sitting in the palm of my hand.

“Hey, I liked those!” Pavati cried, and then laughed. “Although this is kind of cooler.” She plucked the model pyramid from my hand and grinned at me. “Can I stomp on it?”

“They’re your sunglasses,” I said.

Tu sat up in the back seat in a rush. “Man—turn right again—that is so insane! How the hell did this happen?”

Tu’s long black hair was in a high bun on the top of his head, a style I was nearly positive only he could pull off, and his biceps were as huge as ever as he leaned forward between the front seats, practically wedging himself between me and Pavati. As always, he looked way too confident to be insecure, and yet he was anxious all the same when it came to Pavati. At least some people hadn’t changed.

I wasn’t quite prepared to recount the ways I’d changed, yet.

“Uh, it’s a long story. And one sec—I have to make a stop.” I pulled over and leapt out onto a sidewalk that just so happened to run right in front of the hotel I’d been staying in. Fortunately, I only caught the first part of Tu’s storm of swearing before I shut the door.

When I returned to the car with a little something tucked under my jacket, he looked about ready to tear my head off … until I turned around and plopped Pie into his lap. I’d never seen Tu’s jaw drop quite so far as when Pie started waggling and sniffing him, her thin tail whipping back and forth.

“You have a puppy?” Pavati cried in delight. It was the closest she’d ever come to squealing, at least since I’d known her.

“Her name is Pie,” I said as I started driving again. “Where to?”

“Left up ahead.” In the rear-view mirror Tu didn’t look as grumpy as he sounded, ruffling Pie’s ears for a few seconds. But then he set her aside and shoved himself back between the front seats with his jaw set in a determined clench. “Okay, now I have to hear your story. Spit it out.”

“Can I tell it later over a beer or something? Or never?” I suggested as I merged onto a highway.

“How about immediately?” Tu said, but then Pavati’s elbow slammed into his arm. “Or at least I’ll take a beer immediately.”

“There’s some in the trunk.”

Tu grinned for the first time. “I just got a lot happier to see you.”

Pavati threw her head back against her seat and released a sigh that was more of a growl of frustration. “So you decide to trust Tavin not because of anything he’s said, but—get this—because of beer. I think this well illustrates some of our issues as a couple.”

Tu’s hands immediately found her shoulders and started rubbing. “Hey, the puppy also helped, not just the beer. Besides, you trust him, and I trust you. I think that proves we’re an awesome couple.”

“Nice one,” I faux-whispered.

Tu chuckled. “Thanks, I thought so.”

A grudging smile appeared on Pavati’s face. “I find your massage more convincing than anything.” She closed her eyes and let out a groan.

I was suddenly uncomfortable to be in the car with the two of them. “So … ” I said. “Where are we going?” I wanted to ask when I could see Khaya, but I held the question in. Part of me was afraid of when I might see her, because of what she might say to me when I did.

And what if she didn’t even want to see me in the first place? I assumed she wasn’t here because Pavati and Tu wanted to determine it was safe beforehand, but what if she hadn’t even wanted to come?

“To a location of our choice,” Tu said, infuriatingly vague.

“And what happens when we get there?” I asked, trying not to sound impatient.

“We strip search you for tracking devices.”

Pavati’s eyes flew open. “Tu! He’s kidding,” she told me, glancing over.

Tu snickered while I grimaced.

“I’m afraid you’d have to skin me, with what they’re doing these days.” I reached up to tap the back of my neck. “See the half-healed hole back there?”

They both recoiled from me in horror.

“Yeah, that was pleasant,” I said in answer to their expressions. “But I got it out. I’m positive there aren’t any more in me, because I’d feel it now. I’m clean.” I hesitated. “In a manner of speaking.”

Something in my tone made the two of them fall quiet. To my immense surprise, Tu was the one who asked first.

“Are you okay, man? It was probably rough in there with, you know, everything they wanted you to do.”

“I’m okay,” I said, in a way that sounded like I was anything but, in spite of what I’d intended.

“Did you … kill anyone?”

“Tu!” Pavati practically screamed, and Pie yelped.

I winced at the volume as much as anything and swerved a little on the highway. “Gods. Yes, Tu, I killed a lot of people, including both of my Godspeakers—one who was a sadistic psychopath and one who was the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father. Plus, I’d say, roughly a hundred other people.” My own voice rose as I snapped, “Do you want to know how?”

Pavati was covering her eyes. “Tu, don’t answer that—whatever you’re planning on saying. In fact, just shut up entirely.”

“Sheesh, sorry,” he muttered, sinking into the backseat. “I was just asking.”

“Next time, shove your big fat foot in your mouth first.”

“Gods, fine.”

She rounded on him. “And we’re going to the clearing. No buts,” she said when he opened his mouth, probably to object.

“What’s in the clearing?” I asked, my heart suddenly trying to fly out of my chest, ahead of the speeding car.

Pavati smiled a mysterious smile. And then, as vague as Tu, she answered, “You’ll see.”