Intermix Nation

  Adamek ties the elastic around her arm. It unnerves Nazirah, being this close to him, memorizing the angles of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the deep green of his eyes. It bothers her that she wants to do these things. She liked it better when he still had bruises all over his face. She felt safer that way.

  He gently tugs up the cuff of her sleeve, fingers slightly calloused. Nazirah feels tingles shoot through her at his touch. She tells herself to get a grip. But in her mind, she wonders if this is what Lumi felt when she first gave in to him. Is this how every girl feels?

  She stares at his hands, focusing on his scratch marks, on his kills. She’s seen them countless times before. But today it hits her again exactly who he is and what he’s done. There are so many scratches on each hand, hundreds. They crisscross and tally in completely irregular patterns. Some are bigger and some are smaller. Nazirah cannot keep track of them all. She wonders if he knows how many there are, how many lives he’s taken.

  Nazirah is disgusted with it all, with him, but mostly with herself. Because she has inexcusably forgotten for a while.

  Lumi is wrong.

  He is a monster.

  He hasn’t injected her yet. Nazirah looks up to find rage in his face. He knows exactly what she was looking at, exactly what she thinks of him. Adamek unstraps the elastic from her arm, dropping it next to the syringes. “Get out,” he says.

  “Excuse me?” Nazirah asks, bewildered.

  “You’re excused,” Adamek says coldly. “Now leave.”

  “No way, Morgen!” she snaps, cheeks heating in anger. She reaches for a syringe, intent on injecting herself. “I need this!”

  Adamek smacks the needles away. They fly against the wall, shattering. “Let’s get something straight,” he growls. He leans in close. “I don’t give a fuck about what you think you need. Or, for that matter, what you think at all, especially about me. I don’t give a fuck about you.”

  Nazirah leans as far back in the chair as possible. Adamek Morgen is a loose cannon and she never has any idea what will set him off. “So what is your problem?” she asks.

  He snatches her wrists, pulling her towards him. “My problem is very much you, a nosy, judgmental bitch who never knows when to quit. And I’m fucking sick of it.”

  “Well, too bad! I’m not sorry I question you or your motives! And I’m not going to stop, either! I have no idea how you managed to brainwash my brother, Renatus. But I’m not fucking buying it.”

  “I never asked for that name! I don’t want it!”

  “You sure do embrace the role, though,” Nazirah fires back.

  “This is life,” Adamek says. “We all have our parts to play … even you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means,” he says, his voice a deadly whisper, “that when it comes to fakers, princess, you’re the biggest one here. And I’m not fucking buying it.”

  Nazirah kicks him in the shin. Adamek hisses in pain, wrapping his foot around the base of her chair, rapidly dragging it forward. Nazirah opens her knees, spreading her legs out a second before their chairs collide. His grip on her wrists tightens and he takes in the full view up her skirt. “Aren’t we welcoming today,” he says.

  Nazirah is burning this skirt later.

  “Fuck you!” she snarls between gritted teeth. They are so close, their noses are practically touching. She can feel his hot breath in her face.

  “You would like that, wouldn’t you, princess?”

  Nazirah stops struggling, her entire body tensing. His grip on her wrists relaxes until it is light as a feather. He traces slow circles with his thumbs on her skin. “N-No,” she says. Even to Nazirah, her voice sounds shaky and unsure.

  “It’s simple, Nation,” he begs softly. “Just let me.”

  Nazirah wants to give in, but something smacks her back into reality. What is happening? Is she actually considering his proposition? Is this how he seduced Lumi and who knows how many others? Well not her.

  Never her.

  “Never,” she says. Her voice is louder this time, reassured. She rips her wrists away. He looks at her wordlessly. “I would never!” Nazirah repeats herself, more vehemently, standing up so quickly she almost knocks the chair over. Adamek watches her go. “You’re pathetic!” she says, grabbing her bag and walking backwards through the door. “You disgust me,” she whispers … long gone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Life goes on at headquarters until it doesn’t.

  Soft knocking in the middle of the night awakens Nazirah from a restless sleep. She kicks off her clammy sheets and jumps out of bed, groggy and disoriented. Nazirah stumbles forward, pulling the door open to reveal Cato. He has dark blue circles under his eyes and his face is puffy. He has clearly been crying. Nazirah looks around the hallway, finding it otherwise empty.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks. Her voice is small and frightened. “Is Niko okay? Are we under attack?”

  “He’s fine and we’re safe,” Cato says, taking her hands. “I don’t really know how to tell you this. I just … I didn’t want you to find out from anyone else.”

  “What’s happened?”

  His voice cracks. “It’s Aneira.”

  “Is she okay?” she asks. Nazirah already knows she isn’t. Cato wouldn’t be here if she were.

  He shakes his head. “She wasn’t happy here, Irri,” Cato says. “I think we all knew that. But no one could have known … could have ever imagined how unhappy. She’s at peace now.”

  Nazirah lets go of his hands, shaking. This can’t be right. This has to be a dream, a mistake. This can’t be happening again.

  Her parents, dead on the floor.

  Aneira. Kind Aneira, who was always so sad and lonely. Who was going through an awkward phase without a mother to guide her, and now would never blossom. Who was ripped from her home and now would never return. Cato could say all he wanted. But this … this tragedy … could have been prevented. Should have been prevented. She feels sick. “Oh, God, Lumi!” she sobs, “And Yuki! Do they know?”

  “They do,” he says sadly.

  She feels dizzy, is having trouble forming cohesive thoughts. “When?”

  “About an hour ago, outside,” he says. “She stole a gun from the armory.” Nazirah turns away from him, gagging. “She left a note.” Cato is having difficulty saying the words. “I heard the gun go off from my bedroom window. I ran outside and found her, but.…” He is crying too. He leans against the hallway wall for support, unable to finish.

  Nazirah understands. The guilt and the grief, the feeling like you could have done more, if only you were there sooner. It’s the absolute worst feeling in the world. “There’s nothing you could have done, Cato,” she whispers. “You couldn’t have saved her.” Nazirah gently wipes his tears and wraps her arms around him, holding him tight.

  “I wanted you to find out from someone you trusted,” he mumbles into her shoulder.

  Where’s Lumi?”

  “Outside with the others,” he says. “She won’t leave the body.”

  Something intrinsic calls Nazirah to action. They can’t just stand there and do nothing, not while Lumi needs them. Nazirah grabs Cato’s hand lightly, pulling him towards the staircase. “Walk with me.”

  Cato stops. “Nazirah, no!” he says sharply. “You don’t have to go down there. You don’t need to see that.”

  “Lumi needs us right now,” Nazirah replies honestly. “How can I just go back to sleep, knowing what’s happening?”

  Cato contemplates her words, searches for a counter-argument, but Nazirah has already won. Because this is the right thing to do, what they should have been doing all along. He nods silently, and she leads them downstairs.

  In what feels like a surreal dream, they exit the staircase and make their way towards the back entrance. Only a few people are scattered throughout the hallways. Most of the rebels have not been notified yet. They remain upstairs sleeping, unaware. The ones that are awake embrace one
another solemnly.

  Outside, on the grounds, a large crowd of people gathers. A shroud covers Aneira’s body on the grass. Lord Grigori weeps over it, head in hands. Yuki clutches Lumi. She is only twelve, too young to understand, too old not to.

  Bilungi is there, tears in her eyes and a firm expression on her face. She and several other healers light small red candles on the ground around Aneira’s body.

  “It’s a Deathland tradition,” Cato whispers, “that helps the soul pass more easily into the afterlife.”

  Nazirah is about to approach Lumi when Nikolaus spots her. He breaks off from speaking with Adamek and Gloom and Doom and walks towards her. He looks gaunt and exhausted.

  Niko addresses Cato in hushed anger. “What is she doing here?” he snaps. “I specifically told you not to wake her.”

  “Stop treating me like a child, Niko – like I can’t handle this!” Nazirah argues quietly. “I wanted to come – for Lumi, for Ani!”

  Nikolaus is about to argue, but Aldrik pulls him aside. Nazirah wastes no time. She walks towards Lumi, who stares silently at the shroud. Yuki is gone from her side, trying to comfort her inconsolable father. Nazirah gently touches Lumi’s back. Lumi turns around, looking straight at Nazirah but not really seeing her. Once she realizes who it is, a moment or two later, she embraces Nazirah deeply.

  The two of them stand there for a long time, both crying, both understanding the other’s pain. Bilungi and the healers finish lighting the candles. They chant and hum and pray. Cato comes up behind them. He holds Lumi as she collapses heavily on the grass, sobbing. Nazirah sits down beside them. Hundreds of candles flicker around her, but Nazirah feels no warmth from the flames.

  Bilungi blesses Aneira’s body. Nikolaus and Aldrik gingerly lift the shroud, carrying her towards the hospital. The surviving Grigoris follow behind in a heartbreaking procession. Cato appears conflicted, wanting to stay with Nazirah but also wanting to make sure Lumi is okay. Nazirah waves him away.

  Nazirah sits in darkness, sky cloudy and starless. It’s colder than usual, dead outside, the only light coming from the candles. Nazirah watches in a daze as the crowd thins.

  The grounds empty. People awkwardly hover. They straggle, not talking to one another, not knowing what to do or how to act or who to be. Nazirah knows the feeling well.

  Why did Aneira take her own life?

  As the shock wears off, Nazirah feels the familiar pull of sadness and guilt. She cradles her head between shivering knees, not caring that her thin nightgown and bare feet offer little protection from the chill.

  These deaths are all so senseless. Kasimir, Riva … now Ani. Why didn’t Nazirah talk to her more, appreciate her more? She knew she was lonely. Nazirah has no excuse for her actions, other than selfishness.

  Someone sits down beside her on the grass. A mug of hot tea is thrust into her hand. “Cato, I’m fi –” Nazirah looks up, realizing it’s not Cato after all. “Is it poisoned?” she asks, trying to wrap her head around the fact that Adamek is here, offering her some type of comfort. She sees the hesitation on his face and takes a big sip without waiting for an answer.

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” he replies.

  Nazirah stares at the negative space between the candles where Aneira’s body used to be. “Could have spiked it, at least.”

  “Next time,” Adamek says without thinking. He cringes, fingering his pendant aimlessly. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “It’s okay,” Nazirah says honestly. “I knew what you meant.” It feels strange to be with him like this, when just a week ago they were literally at each other’s throats. But it feels right too, somehow. Nazirah’s fingers idly circle the top of her mug. “Do you think she’s at peace now?”

  Adamek shrugs. “Who knows?” he says. “Has to be better than this hell though, right?”

  His honestly is refreshing. Cato and Nikolaus would tell her that of course she’s at peace. But how could they know for sure?

  “What do the Medis believe happens in the afterlife?” she asks curiously, taking a sip.

  “Medis don’t believe in an afterlife,” he replies. “Medis don’t believe in anything.”

  Nazirah bites her lip, thinking hard. It makes sense. How could the Medis justify their cruelty, their savageness, if they believed in a moral code? “Nothing at all?”

  Adamek stares at her. Nazirah is suddenly aware that she’s in her pajamas next to him. “If the Medis believe in anything,” he says, “they believe in power. And using any and all means to get it.”

  “And is that what you believe?” she asks quietly.

  “There’s something to be said for it,” he tells her, choosing his words carefully. “The power to make your own choices, the power over your own life, the power to be who you want to be, live where you want to live, love who you want to love.”

  Nazirah looks away.

  “But it’s not all I believe, no.”

  “You talk about love and power like they’re the same thing.”

  “Aren’t they?” he asks. “Isn’t love just the highest expression of power? The power over someone’s heart, over someone’s soul?”

  “No,” Nazirah argues, annoyed, suddenly reminded to whom she’s speaking. “In fact, they’re opposites. To have power over someone is to use them for selfish purposes, for personal gain. To love someone is to sacrifice for them, to be selfless, to give up all power. They’re completely different.”

  “Spoken by someone who’s never been in love.”

  “And what would a Medi know of love?”

  “And what would an intermix know of a Medi?”

  “I know enough,” she says, bitterness creeping into her voice.

  “So you say.”

  “You don’t believe in an afterlife, then?”

  He breaks eye contact first this time, unusually at a loss for words. “I never said that.”

  She sips again. “So you do?”

  “I’d like to believe in nothing,” Adamek says, after a moment. “But how can existence simply end when we die? It doesn’t logically make sense for us to be and then just not … be anymore. I believe, like you probably do, that our actions in life have consequences in death. That, in the end, we will all be judged.”

  Nazirah is getting uncomfortable; this isn’t where she was expecting the conversation to go. But she’s curious about him. And, in a rare moment of openness, he is providing some insight. “The Eridians are a peaceful race,” Nazirah replies. “They believe that individual actions have consequences in life, but that the soul is always pure and at peace in the afterlife.”

  “But you aren’t Eridian,” Adamek points out. “At least, not fully.” His voice is even but his eyes are inquisitve. “Can you honestly tell me that’s what you believe? That amnesty always carries over, even in death? That everyone, no matter how terrible their actions, gets a reprieve?”

  Nazirah knows what he’s asking. Does she really believe that he, Adamek, will face no judgment at the end of his life, when the time comes for him to make his peace with the gods? “I don’t know what I believe,” she whispers.

  “You’ll figure it out,” he says.

  “Is that why you got the dusza?” she asks him suddenly. “Because you’re worried about your soul?” It’s out of her mouth and she can’t take it back. Surprise registers on his face for a second and then is gone.

  “Perhaps,” he says. Adamek stands, the strain of the night clear in his movements.

  Nazirah follows. She wonders what this must be like for him, to see death from the other side of the coin.

  Not there for the kill, but for the fallout.

  “Do you think it’ll work?”

  Adamek is silent for a long time before he responds. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Irri!”

  Cato shouts from the distance, looking anxious and worried. Nazirah waves at him reassuringly, turning back to Adamek one last time. “I’ve never been in love,” s
he says quietly. Nazirah doesn’t know why she’s saying this, but she knows she wants him to hear it. “But I have loved and I know enough about it to understand.… I had the best teachers.”

  She begins walking away. Adamek lightly grabs her arm, stopping her. “The best teacher is life,” he says, so quietly that Nazirah struggles to hear him. “And you haven’t lived enough to know much of anything yet.”

  “You’re a year older than me, Morgen,” Nazirah responds crossly. She pulls her arm away. “And you have?”

  “It’s not a matter of age,” he says. “That’s not what I mean.”

  “And what exactly do you mean?”

  “Irri!” yells Cato again, interrupting them. “What are you doing?”

  “You should get some rest,” Adamek says, dismissing her question.

  Nazirah huffs, knowing she won’t get any more answers from him tonight. She looks at the empty mug in her hand. “Thanks for the poison,” she says, giving him a crooked smile before turning to leave.

  #

  Aneira’s funeral is solemn and moving. Lumi and Yuki make heartfelt, unscripted speeches about Aneira’s short but meaningful life, her intelligence, her keen observance, her patience and her spirit. They pray she’s in a better place, a happier place. They promise to honor her through their actions. As they speak, Nazirah makes her own vow. She promises to stop messing around, to stop being concerned with only her life, to stop running from everything that frightens her.

  She will fight.

  She will not be passive in this war anymore, because she knows what happens when she is. Another life lost, another weight added onto her already slumping shoulders. The guilt grows heavier and Nazirah’s heart grows heavier too.

  She spots Adamek in the crowd, sitting alone in the last row. His hands are clenched and he stares at them. Nazirah thinks about their strange conversation. She wonders what it all means. She wonders why she cares when, only a few days ago, she was revolted by him. She wonders what’s changed.

  She thinks it might be her.

  Following Eridian tradition, floating lanterns are lit and released. It’s a haunting way to say goodbye. Nazirah watches the lanterns drift across the sky, spreading twilight in the air. She sees Lumi alone at a nearby picnic table. Nazirah sits down, not saying anything. She just wants to be there for her. Their differences seem so petty now.