Page 85 of Odder Still
Not replaced, not consumed.
I control my own transformation.
Not past, not future, but the result of my actions.
I choose where to root and when to meander.
The world asks the questions.
I am the answer.
TAVISH ENTERS THE LAB, not as a princeling, but as a king, a god, an almighty. The cane I left in the guard’s shoulder clicks in front of him, black as the night sky with shining silver accents. His cuticles are bloody, but a victor’s smile lights his face, bold and brave and beautiful.
His name rises in my throat, but it sticks like cotton, like grief, as though the only way to burst through it is with an apology I don’t know how to make. All my parasite and I can force out is a whisper. “I’m here.”
Tavish’s left cheek spasms, and an angry flush appears around his ears. When he speaks, though, his voice resounds in majesty. “Raghnaid, I’ve considered your offer from earlier, but I’m afraid I must decline. You see, there is a statute set by the assembly under the request of your father and the heads of the O’Cain Fishery, Druiminn Health, Callum and Callum, and the BA, which states that all research efforts should be conducted within regulated, assembly-approved laboratories. This converted ballroom is in direct defiance of that rule.”
Raghnaid’s lips curl ever so slightly, the hint of a snarl forming. “And you believe you can blackmail me with this, do you?”
“Indeed, I absolutely could. I nearly did, too. I was sure threatening you would come back to haunt me, but it would have been safe, for the moment. It would have been barely enough.” He plants his cane between his feet. “But then I remembered why that knowledge would make such potent blackmail—who else would want it.”
Pride and grief well in my chest. Pride, because Tavish is, and will always be, so much stronger than either of us imagined. And grief, because my misguided love thought to hold him back from this. Thought he couldn’t manage it.
He takes a step to the side. “Greer, Dr. Druiminn, Callums, and Macindoe, if you would be so kind?”
Greer steps between the tarp screens. Their glasses sit on a wrinkled nose, their lips drawn taut, but their glance at Tavish holds the slightest of smiles. They’re trailed by a middle-aged woman with a frizz of light-strawberry hair tied back from her face, and a pair of well-dressed, older men as different as two red-haired, freckle-faced people could possibly be. The selkie who emerges behind them wears a scowl and a pocket handkerchief embroidered with the initialsBAon the corner.
“Oddly enough,” Tavish continues, “neither the Gayles nor Morvan Ros have heard of this particular lab either.”
At that, three more women enter, two wearing heavy boots and coats more suited to mountain excursions than upper-district life, and the final boasting enough jewelry to sink a city. The group stops behind Tavish. They gaze around the room, some with jaws dropped and others with lips curled.
Despite the distance of Tavish’s gaze, he seems to stare his mother down. “In light of this violation, and considering the great lengths at which you went to hide potentially citywide threats such as the ignation mutants and the auroras’ sickness, I, as heir to Findlay Incorporated, have conducted an emergency radio board meeting, which voted to suspend you, Raghnaid Findlay, from any influence on this city or its corporations, pending a further assembly summit to remove you officially from any states of power and allow for all big seven corporations to contribute to the research and salvation of the auroras.”
Raghnaid’s brow pulls tight, her eyes a little too wide. She struggles over her words. “This was hardly even my laboratory—Lachlan is responsible for it; its creation, its upkeep. I thought it merely his futile hobby.”
“Futile hobby?” Lachlan’s cheeks burn red.
The youngest Findlay, last of his line, interrupts them both. “Silence.” When he speaks, he surpasses his parents: devours them. His upper lip twists. “I take it back. The bureaucracy of this situation can be damned! This is a take-over, a coup. A formalized rebellion. It doesn’t matter what legal loopholes you find or how you attempt to worm yourself back into power. I am seizing control of Findlay Inc. and all your other assets. Because unlike you, I will distribute ignation fairly and open aurora research to anyone looking to make a brighter future. And it seems that is enough to make a lot of people you’ve kept under your boot very, very supportive of me.” His snarled lip turns into a smile. “This is where the war ends, Mother.”
My heart swells, the adoration pouring into my parasite.
Macindoe steps forward. “Raghnaid Findlay, you will be taken into BA custody until this uprising of the lower districts is dealt with. I would sincerely love to see you resist.”
“You cannot—” Raghnaid objects, but her voice has lost its edge, her words sinking into the background as one of the guards disarms her of her pearl-studded pistol.
“Tavish!” I call. None of the company heads give me so much as a glance, but Tavish’s attention snaps in my direction. I jiggle my cuffs. “I’m afraid we’ve—I’ve—the aurora and I have accidentally been fools of the highest order.”
“Good fuck, Ruby.” Tavish rushes across the room, his cane clicking before him. He bumps his way around the table and finds the cuffs. “Someone get me a key! Now!” He snaps his fingers, and a scientist immediately shoves one into his palm, looking abashed. As though the expression is contagious, Tavish’s cheeks redden and his shoulders slump as he unlocks my bindings. “I’m sorry I left. I only fully realized what I had to do after my mother appeared, and if I had told you outright—”
“You did tell me.” I yank my wrist free and try to sit up. A wave of darkness tunnels my vision, but I breathe through it, and the world returns in stars. I cup Tavish’s face, running my thumb along his cheek. I savor the feel of him, his presence, his whole being—brilliant and powerful and compassionate. “You’re forgiven, utterly and forever. And you convinced them all to stand behind you! You spectacular, almighty princeling, you did it. You won.”
He leans into my touch, but a trickle of moisture appears in the edges of his eyes. “Aye. I knew I had to remove her, even if it meant risking everything. I just needed a way to do it that wouldn’t require bloodshed. Perhaps I am strong enough for violence, but no one should want to carry it through, not if there’s another way.” His single tear glistens off the crisscrossed lines of rainbow-filled black that twist beneath my fraying fishnet.
I wipe it away. “You are stronger still, stronger and braver than anyone who wields a knife.”
A small sob leaves him. He holds the key so tightly that I worry for his fingers. “But while I was doing so, my mother put you on a table. Trenches—I failed you.”
I grab his hand, key and all, and kiss him. A heartbeat of shocked hesitation separates us; then he melts against my mouth. As we break apart, we also come together, our foreheads bumping and then resting presently, neither of us ready to be our own beings yet. “You could never truly fail me, not if you were doing what was best for us all,” I whisper. “I’m not perfect either. I should have let you make your own damn choices, even when they took you away from me. I’m sorry, too.”
