Page 42 of In Death's Hands
“If I don’t have any of those threads, why am I still alive?”
Sitting on the couch, he shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair, making it stand up in unlikely places. I long to run my own hand through it and put it back in its place, but the dishevelled look suits him too. Maybe too much. I swallow hard and focus on more important matters, like my life.
“I don’t know,” he says.
“Ah… Care to take a guess?”
He looks away quickly and sighs. “Each Fate weaves a thread; they each hold a different set of information that will carry a being through to their destiny. One weaves the life path, another weaves the impact that being will have on the world, and the other will create threads that will merge with the threads of others, resulting in inevitable meetings between beings.”
I recognise the weight of the information he’s sharing. Truly, I do. But everything seems muted and contrasted by the fact that I don’t have any of these threads myself. So where does that leave me?
“You said that since that first accident, you’ve been close to death many times.” I nod even though he’s still not looking at me. “It could be that you surviving when you were a child created an issue in the Order and with your threads.”
The air deflates out of me, like his words sucker-punched me in the stomach. “So I was right. I should have died back then.” Tears threaten to fall from my burning eyes, but I refuse to set them free. Instead, I look at the fire, hoping the heat will dry my pain.
Nathan says nothing. I think I was hoping for him to keep denying what seems painfully obvious now. The fact that he doesn’t means the death of any hope I kept hidden in a dark corner of my heart.
“I’m sorry,” he says, almost too quietly for me to hear.
I shake my head. There’s nothing for him to be sorry about. He didn’t do anything, his boss did. And I still don’t know why Death bothered. I’m no one. And his whole point is to gather the dead. So why did he deny me?
I don’t know what happens After, but what’s the point of my existence? I have nothing but a few work friends who will soon forget me. Nathan said one of the threads indicates the impact one has on the world. I have no impact. I am nothing.
I feel my thoughts spiral and I go down with them. It’s like being swallowed by a swarm of flies. I look up, and there’s no light. All I see is my lack of significance. Wait. There’s a break in the whirlwind. A silver lining fighting to appear.
I turn to Nathan, who’s still frowning down at his hands. “Why are they after me?”
His frown deepens. “The Novensiles?”
I nod. “If I should be dead, can’t the Order fix itself by killing me?”
“Well, the Novensiles are workingforthe Order.”
“And why do they keep failing? You’re telling me that your Order is not strong enough to kill me? It doesn’t make sense. If it truly is the force that governs everything, and everyone in it, why aren’t I dead?”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t govern, it creates a path.”
“Same difference.” He seems like he’s about to contradict me again, but I cut him off. “Think about it, why was it so easy for me to survive all those crazy-ass accidents?”
“Was it, though?” The concern in his eyes makes something tighten in my chest.
“It obviously wasn’t a walk in the park, but I survived. I survived flowerpots landing on my head, a tumble down the stairs in the Tube, a stampede during a protest, food poisoning and—”
From a frown, his face transforms into one of pure wrath. It takes the words and breath right out of my mouth. “Someone tried to poison you?”
“What? No,foodpoisoning.”
“I still hear ‘poisoning’.”
“It means the food I ate was bad and I spent the night puking my guts up. It’s actually pretty common, so I shouldn’t have listed it as a near-death. Having hypothermia was much, much worse. Trust me.” I end with a small laugh, though he doesn’t look all that amused himself. “What I’m saying is, why did I survive?Howdid I survive? If the Novensiles have beentrying to kill me all this time, your Order should have helped and made it stick, no?”
He stays quiet as he looks at me. His eyes are so dark they seem to devour the burning light of the fire. I shiver under his gaze, which darkens as he observes the goose bumps spreading across my arms. “Whyaren’tyou dead?” he asks, breaking the silence.
My heart rate picks up. “Why aren’t I dead,” I say. It’s not a question anymore, it’s the starting point. “From what you said, I understand that the Novensiles are a group you’ve had issues with before. But why are they after me? If I am meant to be dead, your Order should have done it, no?”
Nathan gets up and starts pacing, his hands flexing at his sides. “Yes. Even if you shouldn’t have survived that first time, there would have been repercussions. There should have been a correction.”
Hope is a dangerous thing. It’s heady and blinding, and if you’re not careful, it can make you fly too close to the sun. “Sowhyaren’t I dead?”
