Page 42 of Odder Still
I wait for Tavish to speak in his diamond-edged voice, to cut through Malloch’s condemning glare until it, too, lies dead on the plush rug. Instead, he reaches for me with a floundering hand. I grab him on instinct, both pulling him in and pushing him toward my back. As I do, I slip my hand into his, giving it a squeeze before easing the ornamental blade away from him. He presses his freed fingers against the center of my back. They shake.
“You drop yours first.” My upper lip curls.
Tavish finally finds his voice then, if only in scatter scraps. “She was like this when we found her.”
Both library doors clatter, flung wide by a flurry of four grey-uniformed guards. They stop short.
Malloch releases an angry scoff, more polished and perfected than Sheona’s parental grunts but laden with something dark and emotional. “Found her like this, did you? With her blood on Tavish’s blade?”
“We saved Raghnaid from the real assassin last night!” I object.
“So you say, but when I arrived you looked ready to slit her throat.” Their lips roll, and a sheen grows along their lower lid. It’s the most emotion I’ve ever seen from them, and it pulses in a way that’s too genuine to be an act, as though they’re trying to inflict a mask over it and failing. “Tavish has the motive. With someone skilled enough to help him carry it out, then why not? He is a Findlay, after all. And who else would she have felt comfortable enough with not to call for me?”
“You can’t truly think—she’s my sister.” Tavish’s words hold only half an edge, the trembling of his fingers worsening the longer he speaks.
“And the new heir to the company,” Malloch says. “Is it a coincidence that all the assassin’s targets are those in line above you? Or that you push yourself into boardroom meetings you weren’t invited to, stealing specimens out from under your mother? Or that you spend as much money as you can wring out of Findlay Inc. on your personal projects?”
“I don’t want…” But in this moment, Tavish looks entirely unsure of what he wants. His voice slips, panic taking over. “You—you guards, you believe me, don’t you?”
One of the guards looks at the ground. Another swallows. Finally, the third speaks.
“We saw only you two coming this way—wouldn’t have let anyone else through. That’d get us fired, or worse, you ken.” As she says it, her hand skates the hilt of her electricity stick, and by then end, she makes her choice. She pulls the weapon out and powers it up. Her companions barely hesitate before following her lead.
I struggle for one last argument. “Why would someone as smart as Tavish use their own heirloom as a murder weapon?”
Malloch’s determination wavers a moment, their grief and fear peeking through. But they clearly don’t care. Whether they truly think we’ve done this, or they just don’t want the blame levied against them for letting it happen right under their nose, they will keep finding reasons to see things their way. “An heirloom no one would have checked up on if you’d been faster. Whowouldkill someone with an heirloom, anyway?” Malloch moves toward us, crushing dissected papers underfoot. “If you would both come quietly, it would make things better for you.”
I grip the knife all the harder. One blade against four sticks of electricity and a pistol. If I were alone, if I could vault off the desk, over their heads, and flee, then maybe. But I’m not, at least for now. I can’t leave Tavish to their mercy.
He squeezes my hand so tight it almost stops his shaking, and the beautiful, brilliant fool steps out from behind me. And lets go. “I’ll come, but not him. He stays.”
“No, Tavish.” After all he’s done for me, he’s not allowed to sacrifice himself like this now.
Malloch’s lips curl, and they rattle a pair of cuffs. “That wasn’t an option. Whatever the BA decides, someone is waiting for the foreigner’s aurora. His life was already forfeit by the assembly half an hour ago.”
Tavish sways.
“Excuse me if I don’t plan on being here long enough for that.” Because I’m not alone, on more than one front. As much as I despise it, the parasite’s presence still coils through my brain like a python lurking amidst my memories. In a rush of thought so loud I hope it rattles my brain, I shout at it,If you’re going to be here, you might as well work.
The parasite bursts to life. It stirs through my memories of the last few moments and flutters back to grab a sight I’d nearly forgotten about: the ignation-mutated orca calming beneath my influence. With it, the parasite flings some of my first words to it back at me,‘You can do this,’ but this time it blends together the kitchen staff’s approval of my bridie suggestion into an amalgamation of voice and emotion, pounding hope through my parasite-fused veins.We can do this. We can do this.
Something smaller and weaker beats against the conviction, something that sounds like all of me and none of it.This is how it takes you over.But I can’t think of that now, not with the guards flanking us on both sides and Malloch holding a pair of handcuffs like they’re a torture device.
I ignore themein myself and dig into the parasite’s touch. My senses stretch beyond the library, spilling out into the sea above us. I feel the beat of a hundred hearts. Anger at Malloch swells through me, echoing between the parasite and myself and ricocheting outward. Like a sound wave made entirely of emotion, it crashes into them. With each stanza of my violent appeal, the parasite latches deeper, tearing its black tendrils into my flesh. It twists itself up my arteries, reaching for my lungs. But I can’t stop, I can’t—
Fingernails dig into my side. Tavish’s perfect Findlay voice cuts through me, jerking me back to life. “Rubem.”
My senses plunge back into place, leaving me tired and empty. Malloch reaches me. They press their pistol to my chest, but they don’t pull the trigger. One advantage to being a commodity instead of a person, I suppose.
“Whatever you’re doing, you’d better stop,” they hiss, fear shining in their eyes. I don’t have to look down to know what they see: the parasite, woven farther into my flesh, forming ebony lines beneath my skin, each gleaming with rainbows.
In a burst of color, the ignation-mutated orca rams itself straight at us, slamming into the glass ceiling. The skylight shudders, and a tremble runs through the room, stirring papers and churning the dust. Two of the guards scream and Malloch jumps. I take advantage of their distraction, wrenching their pistol from the bodyguard’s grip. A pained hiss leaves them.
As the orca rears back for another dive, I point the gun at Malloch. “I wouldn’t follow us if I were you.”
Rage bundles in their gritted teeth and clenched fists, and a tear finally slips from the edge of their eye. “You damn—” Their fingers curl. But they swallow and give a little nod to the guards. “Let them go.”
I back Tavish toward the library entrance.
