Page 87 of Odder Still
“Then we give her to them!” someone shouts, accompanied by multiple agreements.
“What will that solve?” Tavish sounds like no less the leader now than upon his initial entry, but he worries his little finger against the side of his cane. “Will they not want my blood next? Or yours?”
But all four bodyguards are already pulling cuffs from their belts with expressions between indifference and outright joy at the idea of binding their old boss.
The argument bounces around in the back of my head, each high-and-mighty, panic-laced voice only vaguely registering as my parasite and I argue, not with each other, but with the world at large—with the wooziness still hiding behind the backs of my eyes and the now panicking part of me that, however irrationally, had thought the worst was already fought and won.
It leaves my gaze to wander from Tavish’s wobbling pinkie to Lachlan’s furious sputtering to the calculating determination that calcifies Raghnaid’s jaw. She tries to escape her approaching guards only to back into the crowd of arguing corporation heads. When she bumps into an exasperated Macindoe, she slips her hand beneath his jacket.
We realize in horror: if we know the war isn’t over yet, then so does she. And she’ll doom us to reclaim her victory.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Death Do Us
Our spirit is not our only commodity.
A candle burns just as well as a body.
I must be the one to light the fire in me,
match by match.
Spark by spark.
And grant myself, too, my own apology.
DISMAY CASCADES BETWEEN MY parasite and I, tightening our chest and clogging our throat.
“Stop her,” we shout, but Raghnaid is already drawing the pistol from under Macindoe’s jacket. She fires two bullets through the chest of each approaching guard.
Tavish barely scoots out of the way as their bodies fall, a few drops of their blood splattering across his cheek. He wipes at the liquid, leaving a red smudge behind. His voice sounds hollow, but it cuts straight through the room’s silent shock like a knife. “Mother, what have you done?”
“What I had to. Your father wanted an experiment, after all.” Raghnaid smiles at Lachlan, all teeth and lust and blazing fervor, but she looks away from him too quickly to see the twitch in her husband’s cheek, the way his scowl only deepens.
Tavish scowls as well. “You cannot—”
“I have, therefore I can.” She snatches his cane with her free hand and tosses it to the side.
Tavish looks as if she slapped him. His shock and misery transfer straight into my parasite and me in the form of fury. We slip off the table. Our knees give out beneath us, our head swimming. Clasping the tabletop with one hand, we try again, slower, breathing through the darkness until the world returns.
Greer clears their throat, and for a moment, I hope. But they only back toward the lab’s exit, palms raised in a supplicating gesture.
“Cowering as always?” Raghnaid scoffs. “Run if you’d like. You’ll be dealt with in good time.”
They flee. The other company heads follow, attempting to cover their panic with disdainful chin lifts and spiteful huffs. As they do, I track Raghnaid’s gaze to the security screens on the corner dais. One of their hazy, black-and-white displays shows a band of rebels charging down a lavish estate corridor. Raghnaid’s mouth twitches.
Two very different cities, two very different unrests, one from the bottom and the other from the top.
Somehow my parasite and I have to get Tavish out of here, past the rebellion, and free of Maraheem. Quickly. But before we leave, we need the energy of the dying auroras, or we’ll be right back to where we started.
I take a small step, not quite toward Tavish and not quite toward the tank, either, the two beings in my body warring. Between us both, I can’t tell who wants what. Another step. As soon as we let go of the table, our vision tunnels. We grab for the metal again.
Raghnaid turns toward the counters. “Let’s see to that army, shall we?”
But Lachlan already holds the rack of my distilled blood. His hands quake around it as he looks from the vials to Raghnaid, his ambition so wild and reckless that it vibrates out of him.
As she stares at him, her surprise settles into understanding. “It’s always you, isn’t it? Forever trying to pull down my spotlight.”
