The Whispers (12 page)

Before he even finishes his sentence, my hands are on the door, working the handle. John grips my wrist, his eyes flashing wide. “Jennifer …”

“He won’t harm me,” I hiss at John. “Let go of me.”

“You’re making the wrong decision,” he presses on. “I know Marianne is in danger, and I care about her too, but this is
not
how we find her. We can get to this whispering place ourselves. South, he said. We’ll go down the Road of Destiny or whatever it’s called.”

“You can’t go on your own,” states the boy.

The two of us turn to him, my and John’s hands still stuck on the handle of the metal door. “And why not?” asks John tersely.

“The Whispers is not a place for the Living,” he replies in his clear, crisp, lofty voice. “You will walk in circles and circles around that cursed, Undeadly place, never finding it. For hours, for days, for a lifetime, you’ll never step foot in the Whispers. No Living can find it alone. There are dark and ancient powers that keep it hidden.” His soft, pale gaze moves to John. I daresay they carry a strange, twisted sympathy in them. “Only a Dead can take you to the heart of the land of the Dead.”

“Then Truce will take us there,” John insists. “Or our new friend, Damnation.”

“They haven’t left this city in decades,” he returns calmly. “They don’t know the wild as I know it.”

“John …”

John’s face twists with frustration. I know he doesn’t have the same connection that I seem to have with the pale boy, but I’m not about to bet my friend’s life on our confidence alone in finding a supposedly unfindable place. We’re lost in a land of deathly magic and oddities that defy everything we know about science. How can I
not
trust this Undead person’s word?

Slowly, I give in and turn the handle. Even with John’s grip on my wrist, he does not hinder me further. Our hands united, we open the cage door.

The next instant, my device is in my other hand, and I lift it to the boy’s face. The light from it flashes, painting his skin an eerie shade of bright blue, startling him.

“This object is from the land of the Living,” I tell the boy calmly. “It’s made of pure steel. If you double cross us or break your honor in any way, I will press it to your face so hard, you’ll wear a permanent scar of it to your second grave. Do we have an understanding?”

He stares at the blinding device, but his eyes seem more curious than they do threatened.

“So colorful,” he murmurs. “Like flames.”

I squint at him. “What?”

“That’s why they light candles,” the boy tells me, still transfixed to my device as though it were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. “Our eyes don’t regard darkness in the same way your Living ones do, but they also don’t regard light in the same way, either. Trust me, you’ve never seen color until you’re Undead.” He smiles, staring unblinkingly into the bright light.

“In your realm, we don’t quite regard light in the same way, either,” I note. “Days here are just a subtle change of brightness to the night. I have yet to see the sun through the fog, even here in the city where I thought we were free from its greedy cover.”

“The further south we go, the worse it gets,” he warns us quietly. “You’ve not yet seen the darkest of the land of the Dead. Not truly.”

I don’t know if his words are meant to scare me, but they do. “Let’s go.”

Carefully, I move aside, and the pale boy cooperates, stepping out of the cage. This would be the
second
rule I’ve broken of the gracious Mayor Damn’s. Maybe third. I hope she’s forgiving, considering my predicament. John leads the way down the hall, and I pick up the rear with my device brandished, the pale boy caught between us.

It’s in another hallway that John stops us, making a slight detour to remove something off the wall. When he returns, he holds a long yellow tassel that might have come from a banner or artwork or something. “Bend,” he orders the pale boy, then secures the tassel around the boy’s neck, forming a noose. I stifle a protest I’m about to make, letting John have his moment of control. When the makeshift leash is attached and the pale boy lifts his head, John gives it a gentle tug. “Uncomfortable?”

“The Dead know nothing of comfort,” he returns.

“Good.”

With a great length of the tassel coiled about John’s shoulder, he continues on his way out of the building through a different door from which we’d entered. I guess that’s because it would
not
be in our best interest to run into Truce or the Mayor and have them observe our blunt betrayal of their trust.
We’ll return the wildcat when we’re finished,
I’d like to say, but considering my track record of returning things I’ve stolen, a guilty stab in my chest shuts me right up.

From the side door, we spill onto the street, relieved to find not a soul in sight.

“When we find your friend,” the pale boy warns me, “she will not be the same. No Human walks the
true
land of the Dead and returns unchanged.”

I swallow a pang of hurt. “And neither will we.”

The three of us hurry away from the four city blocks where everyone resides, and towards the Broken Road of Destiny we go; I hope our actual destiny is anything but.

John looks up at the tree, considering it.

“Don’t you dare,” I warn him.

He glances back at our friend, Corpsey. He puts a hand to his own chin, drumming fingers along his jaw.

“Don’t,” I say again.

John addresses our friend, Corpsey. “Your kind really feel no discomfort at all?”

“No.”

“And you don’t breathe?”

“No.”

John nods. “Very well.”

With that, John tosses the tassel over the nearest branch, then pulls with all his might. Corpsey lifts off the ground as if he weighs nothing—that, or John is a lot stronger than I give him credit for. He gives it another great heave and a grunt, then secures the tassel around a neighboring tree, tying it off.

I sigh. “I can’t believe you did that.”

Corpsey dangles there lazily by the neck. I daresay he appears bored.

“Can’t take chances,” mutters John, returning to me. “We need our rest. We’ve been on our feet for hours.”

“
I’m fine
,” rasps the pale boy with a wave of his hand. “
Really
,” he assures me when I look unconvinced. “
Totally fine. Can’t feel a thing.
” His strangled voice sounds more gravelly than my Aunt Belinda’s and she’s been smoking since she was ten. “
I’m just greeeat.
”

After staring sadly at the dangling Undead boy for a moment, I finally concede, lowering myself to the ground and leaning against John, who’s found a nearby tree to lean against within view of our dangling friend.

I experience a wave of guilt that unrests every nerve I just steeled before leaving After’s Hold. The wave of guilt turns into words. “We should’ve grabbed water,” I say, turning my head slightly. I hope John hasn’t already fallen asleep at my back; he looked so exhausted. “Or food. Or thought to wake the others to come with us. I was selfish not to include them.”

“We left on an impulse,” John reminds me, his words vibrating through his chest and into mine. “Don’t blame yourself, Jen. Look.” He takes my hand into his, fiddling gently with my fingers. “If that fussy roommate of yours survived this long, so can we. Right? Can you imagine how whiny she’d be by now if she were with us? ‘Jen, where can we find a bagel store around here?’”

I try to smile, but even the muscles in my face grow heavier by the second. I can hardly keep my eyes open. “I know you’re trying to cheer me up, but—”

“Just imagine the relief we’ll feel when she’s with us and we’re returning to After’s Hold together,” he tells me. “Just imagine how you’ll feel when this is all over with and we’re back home. They’ll celebrate us. Don’t you hear all your peers cheering after you’ve presented your dissertation to the class? The Beautiful Dead …”

The dream he’s lending me sends my mind into a new direction. The dissertation … Notoriety … Vindication … John’s acceptance and support from the financial aid …

“John, what will happen when you
do
get accepted into the university?” I ask, looking down as he starts to massage each of my fingers, his hands feeling so strong against mine. “When you’re an official student. When you … don’t need to stay in our condominium anymore. What’ll happen?”

His silence unsettles me. For a moment, my fears all along are confirmed. He’ll move on when the university takes him in. He’ll engage with other Engineers in his program, meet some pretty girl with long dark hair and interesting ideas. She’ll wear cute glasses and laugh at all his jokes, and his muddy brown eyes will be all on her.

“You mean … I have to leave your condominium?” he asks, confused.

“No, not if you don’t want to. But, like …” I bite my lip, unsure how to proceed.

“You want me to leave?”

“No! I didn’t say that.” With a sigh, I turn my head, my ear pressed to his chest. “I just meant … I mean, have you thought about it? Do you have a plan?”

His breath dusts the top of my head. It’s become noticeably heavier. I don’t know if I’m getting somewhere with him, or making everything worse. Likely the latter; I’m so good at that lately.

“I … haven’t really thought about it,” he confesses, his voice growing quiet. “Maybe a part of me never thought I’d actually get to
be
a student. Maybe I thought I would never earn the chance to prove myself to them …”

“Maybe.”

I feel John tense up. His fingers stop moving, as if he’s caught in a worry. “Jennifer,” he murmurs. “Can you just be upfront with me?”

“How?”

“Tell me what you want.” His voice is soft, faraway. “If you want me to move out, I will accept that. I’ll … I’ll find a way to afford my own place. I should. It might be off-campus, maybe somewhat of a commute, but—”

“Don’t be silly,” I spit back. “I want you with me.”

“Then … Then what do you mean by all of this?”

“I just mean …” Ugh, why can’t I just come out and say it? He’s holding my hand. He’s playing with my fingers. He’s held me in his arms every night we’ve spent in this cruel, dead place. Why am I so certain he’ll vanish the moment I utter those three wicked words?

“I think I understand where you’re going,” he mutters tiredly to my hair. “Ever since we met and you let me stay at your place, what was supposed to be just one night turned into two, then a week … and it almost feels like I still just … happen to be there, almost by accident. Like I don’t really belong.”

I pull away from him and turn, facing John. His eyes are heavy and his full lips hang open from his words. He watches me, curious why I pulled away.

“I was afraid that you’d leave me when the university accepted you,” I tell him, making myself plain. “I was afraid that the only reason you stayed with me was because it was
convenient
. I was afraid, no matter how attached I was growing to you, that you’d one day pick up and leave, and I wouldn’t see you in the bed next to me every morning when I wake up to go to class.”

“Jennifer …”

“Even the first time we met,” I say, all of my feelings choosing this one lovely moment to pour out, “I hardly knew you for more than five minutes before you were tearing off in the other direction, running away from the authorities. Always running away. I was terrified that one day it’d be
me
you’re running from.”

“I don’t ever want to run from you,” he says, his deep brown eyes turning to water before me, his lips never fully closing between his sentences. “Why would you think that? You’ve been so kind to me. No one’s ever shown me so much … care. If I didn’t feel so damn guilty about it, I’d stay in your condo for good. I love waking up next to you. We work well as a team. We can survive a realm of dangers and bloodsucking nightmares together. There’s nothing wrong with …
this
.”

He pulls my hand to his chest. I feel the drumming of his heart, its every beat crashing into my palm.

I love that song in his chest.

“If you weren’t here with me,” I tell him, “I would have lost my mind in that hovercraft. I wouldn’t have even made it off the campus. I’d be nose-deep in metal carnage, squished somewhere between the eleventh and twelfth floors of the Histories building.”

To that, he leans forward, bringing his face close to mine. “I’m not just here for my own glory.” His fingers gently interlock with mine, sending chills up my arms. “I didn’t agree to come with you just because I saw my ‘way in’ to the university, Jennifer. Sure, some part of that motivated me at first, but things are so much bigger now. Bigger, I think, than either of us anticipated. This whole experience here in the Sunless Reach, it’s going to change everything. When we get back home—and I guarantee you, we will—I have no plans to give you up, Jennifer, so long as you don’t want to give me up. I want you in my life. I want to be in yours.”

That’s all I needed to hear. Oh, these dumb emotions, making a mess of us worrisome Livings. Using our interlocked hands to pull him toward me, I guide my parched lips to his soft ones. When they meet, a whole lot of fire ignites in the space between us, giving heat to this cold, miserable place. The touch of his strong hands revive me as he rubs my back, pressing me into his body with desire. If we weren’t out here in the middle of nowhere, I’m sure that a lot more would happen between us besides kisses of passion and …
hands
.

As John’s lips trail down my neck and I turn, shivering with pleasure, my eyes meet Corpsey’s, who still dangles. Yes, he’s watching. Upon his lazy face, an amused smirk.

“We’re not alone,” I mutter tiredly.

John looks up distractedly, noting our hanged friend. “So? Let’s put on a show, then.”

“Let’s not.”

John chuckles, then meets my lips for one more kiss. After that, I scowl at Corpsey, ruiner of moods, then curl up and bury myself against John’s chest, determined to chase a nice dream for a while, escaping the gloom of this world. I take John’s sweet suggestion and try to hear my fellow students cheering for me and erupting in applause instead of mocking me. With that sweet hallucination filling my ears, I finally let the exhaustion win.

Somewhere in the dark comfort behind my eyelids, I see my mother sitting in her house all alone. She’s staring out the window with a tissue dangling in her hands. Her eyes are dried because she’s cried every last tear she could possibly cry. She’s processed the news about my dad not long ago, only to have it followed with a most grievous call from the university:
“Your daughter has hijacked a hovercraft and flown across the sea. She will never be heard from again.
” Not only has my mother lost her husband, but now she’s lost her daughter in the very same day. The grief will never end. She ponders her life, glaring at the window.

The next moment, I’m stirred awake by a bug. I swat it away and only succeed in slapping my own face, waking me further. I glance to my left, spot Corpsey still hanging there. I sit up and turn to find John still resting against the tree at my back, his eyes closed and his breathing deep.

Then I feel the buzzing in my pocket. It wasn’t a bug I sensed; it’s my device. I pull it from my pocket, confused. When I gaze at the screen and discover that a signal has been found and I’m receiving a transmission, every trace of breath is stolen from my chest.

I can’t believe it.

In a panic, I mash my finger to the screen, then lift the device to my mouth. “Hello??” I nearly shout into it.

John flips his eyes open, flinching at the sound of my voice. “What is it??” he asks, blinking away whatever little bit of sleep he got.

“Hello??” I shout into my device again, climbing to my feet. “Mom? Is that you? … Mom??” The device sputters, a burst of static exploding from it. The screen shimmers, unable to produce a source of the communication that’s somehow miraculously reached it. “Please, talk to me!” I cry into the device. “Speak! This is Jennifer Steel! I’m stranded in the Sunless Reach!”

The thing coughs in my hand, issuing a quiet, whirling squeal for a response.
It’s damaged,
I tell myself in horror.
From the river. From low battery. From the polluted air here.

Yes, that’s it: the very
death
in the air is strangling it.

“Mom??” I cry again into the phone, pacing back and forth, tears reaching my eyes. “Help! Please! We’re lost! We’re going to die out here! PLEASE!”

“Jennifer.” John’s at my side. “No one’s there.”

“PLEASE!” I shout at the stupid thing, frustrated that it won’t talk back to me. “HELP US!”

“Jennifer …”

I let my frantic stare meet John’s. His warm brown eyes ground me, pulling me back into a calmness. When I look back at the device in my palm, there’s no light or sound coming out of it. The thing is silent as a stone.

I have a creeping suspicion it was always silent as a stone.
Oh, no. I’ve gone crazy.

“I thought I heard …”

John brings me into his arms, wrapping me tightly against his chest. The device crushed between me and his body, I let the embrace slowly bring me back to reality.
There’s no way anyone could contact you from across the ocean
, I remind myself.
You need to keep yourself sane, keep yourself focused. John can’t do this alone.