Page 39 of In Death's Hands
Instead of answering me, Nathan looks at Thalnus. “I did call you here for a favour.” The previous animosity is gone, replaced by plain honesty.
“To meet your leader?” I ask, recalling his conversation with Turan.
Thalnus nods once, twice. “Yes. Yes. I—” Seeing this big, stoic man at a loss for words has me more worried than I’d like, my heart hammering inside my chest. “I’ll go ahead and plead your case. I’ll find a way to… spin it favourably.”
“You might not like it,” adds Atys.
Nathan gathers me in his arms, his shadows pooling at our feet, readying to Fade us away. “I know I won’t.”
“We can’t keep coming back here.”
Nathan cocks his face in puzzlement. “What do you mean? You don’t like this place?” He looks around his flat, seeming to analyse every nook and cranny of his penthouse.
I’m still reeling over everything, my mind at once wondering who their leader is, why it’s so important to meet her and what Nathan will not like.
“No, I mean we can’t keep having the same conversation over and over again.”
“We’ve never had this conversation.”
I sigh. Is he for real? “What happened in that cave?” At his sullen silence, I give him a pointed look. “You keep hiding things from me. We always end up with me having a million questions and you keeping most of the answers at bay.”
“Ah, I see. You don’t trust me.” He sighs and settles down on the couch.
“What?”
Frowning, he touches his coffee table, and a small panel opens up to reveal a storage space. He retrieves a tablet and starts tapping on it, frown still firmly etched on his features.
I’m standing there, arms crossed, with what I’m sure is a stupid expression. “Nathan!”
He closes his eyes for a brief second, and when he opens them again, his gaze collides with my own. “You don’t trust me.” He stays quiet long enough for me to start opening my own mouth but then decides to keep going. “I don’t blameyou,” he says, shaking his head. “You’ve experienced nothing but problems and deadly experiences since we met.”
It’s my turn to frown. “I don’t think you’re seeing things quite the right way. You’re the one who’s been saving me since we met.”
His face shutters and he quickly goes back to his screen. Ugh, is even Death’s assistant a slave to technology? Don’t get me wrong, I like Netflix as much as the next girl, but I haven’t touched my phone in a long while. I don’t even know where the damn thing is. And why would I care? It’s not like I have a family anxiously waiting for proof of life on my part. And the only friends I have are co-workers who already know what’s going on with me. Sort of. I’m sure they’ve already moved on even thoughImissthem. Isaiah’s warm smile and Joana’s inappropriate comments have made my life more colourful. But I should be happy my leaving won’t affect them too much, aside from a work reorganisation. Despite what I tell myself, I can’t help but wish someone would care and missme. Even the lovely Eilidh at my favourite café in town will have forgotten me soon enough. I met her the first time I visited the Natural History Museum with my class. I was lost, the other girls in my group having tricked me to get rid of the death-obsessed orphan they hated so much, and I somehow ended up at the café where this lovely lady dried my tears and made me a hot chocolate while she sent her colleague for my teacher. She told me about her sons who used to get lost all the time and I was smiling by the time I rejoined my group. I’ve been going there as often as I can since, and her eyes always light up when she sees me. I love talking with her, surrounded by those big stone arches and the chaotic families visiting the museum. She always asks about my life, tells me about hers. I used to imagine she was my grandmother, and we were visiting the museum together. But I grew up, and now mystomach tightens as I wonder how long it’ll be before I can visit her again. She was talking about retiring the last time I saw her, wanting more time for her real grandchildren. What if I missed her departure? I’ll never see her again. I was just a passing figure in her life, even if she’d been a lifeline in mine.
I brush aside my pathetic thoughts to focus on the man in front of me.
Nathan stays petulantly quiet on the couch, looking at nothing but his tablet. I cut off my frustrated sigh and storm to my room. Digging angrily through the boxes, I find leggings and a clean sweater and quickly make my way to the shower. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Nathan has moved, and hurt spreads like a heavy cloud in my chest.
Ignoring the questions still unanswered by the prick, I let the warm water provide comfort. As it pours heavily all over my body, my muscles slowly unwind, allowing for a new perspective to shine through. If I’m struggling with this new reality, Nathan probably is too.
He may be struggling with things I cannot even dream about. After all, he must report to Death himself. The pressures and obligations he faces in his role are entirely out of my comprehension.
If only he would open up! I go back and forth between anger and understanding. One moment I feel like I know and get him, the other I am painfully aware of who, and what, he is, and the fact that I am a teeny-tiny pawn in a much larger game than I ever thought could exist.
I step out of the shower without knowing exactly where I stand. I wonder if I’ll ever truly know.
As I brush my hair, wearing only a towel in front of the foggy mirror, I wonder if maybeIam the thing that happenedto the world. Thalnus said I was out of the Order. I can’t say I understand much of what they said, but it sounds like I’m not where I’m supposed to be. As if we were all following a predestined path and I inadvertently took a wrong turn somewhere.
I can’t help but think that the wrong turn was surviving that car crash. Would I be at peace, somewhere with my adoptive parents? Maybe even my birth parents, not that I know if they are dead or alive since they left me in an alley with nothing but a blanket. Or would I simply be a forgotten fleck of dust riding an invisible wind through the universe? Who knows…
Ugh. Nathan would, I guess. How incredibly disturbing to think that the man who rescued me may know everything everyone has at least wondered once in their lives. What’s it all about? What happens when we die? Where do we go? He may know. He may not. But if he refuses to open his damn mouth, there’s not much I can do to learn more about it.
I dress myself and decide to try again. When I reach the large living space, a delicious smell tickles my nose and I stop short in front of the very domestic view of Death’s assistant trying to figure out how chopsticks work. The confused look on his face is adorable, and I kick myself immediately for thinking that. He must have been ordering takeout on his tablet earlier. I’m again struggling between feeling grateful and annoyed.
Sighing, I take the last few steps to him and grab the sticks from his hands. I separate them, noticing the frown on Nathan’s face, and rub them together to make them smooth before gently taking his hand to wrap his fingers around the sticks. He jumps slightly at the contact but lets me guide him.
He still seems dubious when I grab my own and dig in to the delicious caramelised pork. He goes for the rice container—rookie mistake—and struggles to pick up anything. His scowlgrows deeper and deeper until, losing control, I burst out laughing. He looks up quickly, frustration replaced by surprise and what looks strangely like awe.
