Intermix Nation (15 page)

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,” she 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.

“This is my fault,” Lumi says sadly. Nazirah
wants to tell her that it’s not her fault, that she can’t blame
herself. But she knows exactly how Lumi feels. And she knows from
her own experience that those words won’t help. “I’ve been so
selfish lately,” Lumi continues, staring at her delicate hands.
“I’ve been selfish my entire life.”

Nazirah glances at Adamek, who is consoling
Lord Grigori. “We can’t control the actions of others,” she
says.

Lumi shakes her head, dams bursting from her
eyes. “No, Nazirah! That’s no excuse. I’ve been running from the
pain when I should have been facing it and protecting my family!
I’ve failed my sisters … I’ve failed myself.”

“No one knew what Ani was going through,”
Nazirah says. She knows it’s the wrong thing to say as soon as it
leaves her mouth. Lumi glares blue icicles.

“I should have known,” she growls, pointing
a finger inwards. “She was my sister! I should have known!”

Nazirah gently encloses Lumi’s hand within
her own. “Lumi, what happened to Ani is awful and tragic. But she
wouldn’t want you to live your life in her sadness. She would want
you to move on, to make sure Yuki grows up happy. You have to be
stronger than your sister was. You have to find that inner
strength. When we get our final assignment next month, take some
time away from here. Give yourself an opportunity to think about
what it is you want … what’s best for you and your family.”

“I just wish my mother were still here,”
Lumi cries. “She always knew what to do. I can only ever hope to be
like her. But I’m sure you know exactly how that feels.”

“I do.”

Nazirah remembers Riva, her warmth and
compassion. Inspiration flowed from her fingertips like milk and
wisdom dripped from her mouth like honey. Lumi laughs bitterly,
tracing the wood grain of the table. “One thing we have in
common.”

“I’m sure there are other things,” Nazirah
says, smiling. “We just have to find them.”

Lumi picks her fingernails. “What I’ve been
doing lately, Nazirah, seems so stupid now. I was hoping to make
Cato jealous. But Cato doesn’t even see me.”

“Cato’s oblivious to pretty much
everything.”

“Not when it comes to you,” Lumi says.

“You’d be surprised,” Nazirah replies.
“Sometimes you really have to spell things out for him.”

“Should I tell him I slept with Adamek?”

Nazirah coughs awkwardly. “That’s up to you.
Morgen can be very persuasive when he wants.”

“I approached him, actually,” she says.

“Really?”

Lumi shrugs. “I heard the rumors, needed the
release.”

Nazirah doesn’t want to hear anymore.
“Right.”

“Do you think I’m a whore?”

“Not at all!” Nazirah says honestly. “I
think he’s a scumbag, though.”

“He’s not so bad,” Lumi says. “I’ve been
with guys a hell of a lot worse. There was nothing between us,
though. We never talked … never even kissed. We were both just
using the other, trying to escape reality.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“Does it ever go away?” Lumi asks
suddenly.

“Does what go away?”

“The guilt?”

Nazirah wants to say yes, but she can’t lie
to her friend. And she can’t lie to herself anymore, either. She
searches for the right words, but they don’t come. Because she is
not Cato Caal. And she is not Riva Martel.

She is only Nazirah Nation.

“It’s always there,” she says finally. “Some
days it’s dull and other days it’s sharp. But we can channel it and
hopefully use it for something worthwhile. For something good, to
honor them by. And then maybe, someday, we can find some
peace.”