Asking Alexandria - The Final Episode

I barely made it back to my room before I got sick, the breakfast Jordan made me eat making a second appearance that was far less pleasant than its first. My entire body shivered in cold sweats as I leaned against the wall of the bathroom, doubling over with each new wave of nausea that hit me. My rib made it even worse. I could feel the bone bending in ways it shouldn't under my skin, poking things it shouldn't, grinding like sand against concrete. I'd need a healer unless I took it easy for a couple of days and I really didn't want to do that. I weighed my options; pride or logic, but it wasn't really a contest. I rinsed out my mouth and put on a new shirt, not that it mattered, I'd bleed through in a matter of minutes.

I knocked on Ailech's door a minute later, wishing I knew of another healer close by. I already didn't like him, and it was obvious he was far too fond of Jordan, which meant he probably disliked me even more than I him. The door opened and I saw him try to hide his surprise, an emotion he didn't wear well. I glanced down to the stains already coming through my shirt before looking back at him.

"Care to help?"

His heals were impressive, though I don't think he needed to prod the rib as much as he did to 'get a feel for the break'. All the cuts and bruises disappeared within seconds and five minutes after my arrival I was already heading for the door. Ailech's voice stopped me a moment before I made it to the corridor.

"I know enough about you to know bad things happen to the people around you. Nothing good can come from you. So if you really cared about her you'd keep your distance."

I paused for a moment, my hand hovering an inch from the door handle. I wanted to turn around and tear into him. I wanted to have him be my first victim since my hiatus in the city. The fiery thought ran through my mind that he had no right to try and protect Jordan, to act like he was responsible for her, like he knew anything about me or her or us together, but then I realized he did. He was her keeper here, he was her protector. And if I was going to be believable, if I was going to make my time at the Vault work, I needed him to be her guardian, not me.

"I don't care about her, and I didn't come here to get close to her. I don't need her dead-weight slowing me down. I'll keep my distance."

The words burned in my mouth, but I was sure to keep my voice even, dull, just like I always did. He seemed satisfied with my answer and didn't try to add anything to the conversation as I opened the door. I knew I should have left then, should have let him win, but even with my tight control, my mask perfectly cemented in place, I couldn't let myself roll over for him. For Abraham, sure, in front of Jordan, easily, but him? Something about him made me want to push back, even if just a little. His attitude grated me, like he was skilled in pushing people's buttons.

"You should know that bad things happen to the people closest to her, too."

I glanced back at him, letting my eyes darken, letting black swallow them for a flicker. I flashed my teeth as I spoke.

"My kind isn't meant to consort with humans. We play a little too rough."

I felt sick the rest of the day, though thankfully I didn't throw up again. I ended up not spending much time in my room, hoping if Jordan came by to practice I'd be out. I explored the complex instead. Calling it vast wouldn't have done it justice and I found myself impressed with the massive undertaking Abraham had designed. I knew I shouldn't let myself slip into old habits, that I should show him some degree of respect, but it was nearly impossible for me to feel anything but contempt for the old man. He wasn't like my father, he never had been, but he hadn't been a good teacher either. I knew he hadn't had a choice, which made my resentment toward him more bearable, but I still didn't like him being responsible for Jordan, or myself. Living under his rules, how pathetic that was.

I made myself find a kitchen around lunchtime and tried to eat, but I barely got more than a couple of mouthfuls down. I hadn't seen Ambriel since that morning, before I trained with Jordan, and I was more grateful for that than I would have expected. I constantly told myself her presence didn't bother me, didn't matter, or even mean anything, but her absence proved that was a lie. Even when she wasn't around she was still on my mind and I hated that I couldn't stop thinking of why she wasn't there. It was impossible to get any peace from her, whether she was near or not.

It took me close to an hour to find an empty gym, but eventually I did and the relief of my Shift helped to calm my mind. I still felt too sick to train, too drained from my workout with Jordan, but at least I had my Shift again, which was the only time I didn't feel at the edge of throwing up or passing out or tearing my hair out.

Instead of training, I sat with my back against the wall. I closed my eyes, but didn't let myself fall asleep, didn't let my Shift sink back into me, too worried a nightmare would find me. I let the lights dim in the room, let myself just be still for a while. When I heard someone walk in I knew who it was. I usually didn't hear her, but I still knew it was her.

"Hi, Ambriel."

I didn't open my eyes as I silently cursed how tired, how beaten down my voice sounded. If she had been anyone else I would have hidden that weakness, which would have been easy with my Shift, but it didn't matter with her, she was in my head, she was my head. She already knew how much of a struggle each damned day was. I just didn't see the point anymore. She sat next to me, a cold cloud drifting over from her like she was death itself, but I didn't move. I knew I couldn't get away from her.

I wished I could go back to when I only saw glimpses of her, her hair or a flash of her face in a crowd, or when she only appeared in my dreams, even if it was every night. I'd even gladly go back to the first few times I saw her for more than a split-second, standing across the street from me, her reflection in a darkened window. But now I could feel her, sense her, sometimes even hear her footsteps, her breaths, as if she was a real person. As if I made her real. She was getting stronger, which should have worried me, but it didn't. I just didn't care anymore.

I pulled my old knife from my pocket, the one I always had with me, the first one I had ever used, the first one I had ever had used against me, and twirled it in my hand, over my knuckles, around my palm. It felt nice to have its constancy. The knife had been the only thing I kept from my old life, the only thing I wouldn't leave behind. I had spent so many nights when I was a child holding that knife, just watching it in my hand, thinking of how easy it would be to pull it across my throat, to push it into my chest and twist, to end it. I only tried once, but my father hadn't been willing to lose the weapon he had invested so much into. I could still see the scene in my mind, fresh like it had been the night before, not years earlier.

I could still see him with his back to me, smoothing his hair back as he gazed out the window at the storm. I could still feel how heavy the knife felt in my pocket, calling to me, begging to be used. I could still feel its weight in my hand as I flipped it open silently, as I raised it to my neck. I could still feel the cold edge bite into my skin, feel the line of ice turn to fire as I pulled the blade across my throat, loving every ounce of pain it gave me, knowing it would be the last thing I ever felt. I could still remember feeling my blood leave me, falling to the floor in a spray, then rivers, running down my chest, smell the scent of it, a scent I was all too familiar with. I remember falling to my knees, my hand dropping the knife, and my father turning, a look of annoyance on his face, as if my suicide was nothing more than an inconvenience to him. He walked to me swiftly, noticing the amount of blood I had already lost, the pool of it spreading across his clean floor, a shadow of something similar to worry in the corners of his eyes.

I was pulled from my memory as I felt my knife disappear from my hand. A moment later the pain came. My eyes shot open to see my hand pinned to the floor, my knife stabbed through the center of my palm. Ambriel was gone.

I was back at Ailech's door a half-hour later, after taking two wrong turns and having to ask a terrified-looking woman how to get back, my hand dripping dark red onto the nice golden rug at her feet. I hoped Ailech's schedule was as open as it seemed since I didn't have a backup plan if he wasn't home and had lost a surprising amount of blood in my thirty-minutes of wandering the halls.

After two knocks he opened his door, hiding his surprise faster than last time. I waved my wounded hand at him and he slid over to let me in.

"And I thought Jordan gave me a workout."

The way he said the words made me bristle, like he meant more than I cared to know, but I let it slide. What she did in her downtime wasn't my business. I had left my Shift as soon as I decided I'd need another heal, and I knew it was better to keep my mask up around this infuriating little human, even if every expression his face wore made me want to cave it in.

"I fell into a doorknob," I replied quietly, my voice monotone.

"Mhm, spiky doorknob."

He looked at my hand for less than a second before saying a few words and seeing the progress they made. His brow pulled together like he was confused by something.

"Did Jordan skewer you?"

I merely looked over at him, eyebrows slightly raised, showing I didn't plan on answering.

"Did you skewer you?"

I leaned back in the chair he had shown me to, letting my head rest on its back as I closed my eyes.

"Just tell me when you're finished, mage," I mumbled.

I felt my skin stitching together and the familiar itch when it was done. I opened my eyes when Ailech didn't say anything. I thought he'd be elsewhere in the room, ignoring that I was still there, but instead, he was standing in front of me, watching me like I was a special exhibit at the zoo.

"What?"

"You tell me. What's wrong with you? Your hand's all better but...something else isn't, multiple somethings. But I can't, I can't see them clearly."

He looked confused again. He wasn't even looking at me anymore, more like through me, as if he could see something past the physical. Immediately I knew it was a mistake to have him do my heals at the Vault. He'd learn too much, get too in tune to me. If he was already picking up on whatever it was I had, my mind's injury, after only two visits, I couldn't risk coming back again. The last thing I wanted was him or anyone else discovering I was losing my mind. Abby would try to 'save me' and let whatever plans he had in place fall through, or worse he would have Jordan go after my father alone, something I couldn't let happen. He couldn't help me anyway, every Darkling knew that. There was no cure for madness, no escaping the gradual decline, except death.

"I'm fine."

I was out of the chair and out of his room a second later.

» ✦ «

Abby called me to his office that evening and for once I didn't want to go. I made shooting plans with Ailech just in case Abby tried to talk for too long, so I'd have a decent excuse when I wanted to leave. I didn't rush to his quarters either, but took my time, walking slowly down each hallway as I neared where I knew he was waiting.

My hand had been itching all afternoon, and I'd absently scratched it to the point of it now looking red and raw, something I was sure Abby would ask me about. I couldn't have a hangnail without him noticing.

Ailech had patched me up after my sparring with James, though he'd been oddly quiet, for him at least, and I got the feeling he wasn't pleased I had practiced with James instead of him. It was silly of him to be upset, to think him training with me was even remotely close to as beneficial as me working with my own kind, but I didn't really care if he was mad.

I had learned to mainly stare at the floor as I walked the hallways, at least during the busier hours when they were crowded, so I wouldn't have to see all the scared glances I got or all the people who suddenly found a reason to walk the opposite direction when I turned the corner. If it hadn't been for that new habit, I might have missed it, the little stains on the brown and gold rug I walked on, the drops of dried blood that disappeared around the next corner. Almost immediately, I felt dizzy, lightheaded, and nauseous. I sat on the closest bench until the feeling passed, all the while swearing at myself in my head.

How could I possibly still feel like this when I saw his blood? I was sure that's what it was. I just didn't understand why now? I had cut him plenty of times that morning, seen him bleed many other times, and not felt sick, but now suddenly I could see a few small drops of it and almost faint? I blamed my connection to him, but it still bothered me, and it still worried me. He had no reason to be in the hallway I was in, especially bleeding. It wasn't even a possible route he could have taken after our training, so why was his blood there? I hated that I was curious, that I even cared. He could go wherever he wanted, do whatever he wanted, and bleed wherever he wanted, and it shouldn't make any difference to me.

By the time I got to Abby's office my mood had sunk even lower than its norm.

"Good evening, dear one. Tell me, did you practice with Mr. Darke again today? What happened to your hand?"

I almost smiled at how quickly he'd noticed the scratches. I hadn't even sat down yet.

"It's fine, and no, I didn't. Haven't seen him."

Abby's face visibly fell at my answer, and I felt guilty because of it. I didn't like disappointing the old wizard.

"I'll find him tomorrow to train again."

Abby ignored the tone I had used and beamed at me from across his desk.

"Wonderful! But perhaps you two could practice on a target, at least a little bit, not just each other. I'll have a second healer close in case there are any miscalculations. And if Mr. Darke breaks my rule, feel free to tattle, child. He never was very good at listening to my rules, and I sense that fact hasn't changed with age. Even now with just the one rule, I'm sure he'll still break it regularly."

I nodded, but stayed silent, hoping our meeting would be a short one. Abby seemed to not notice my hint.

"And how about talking with him, before you guys practiced today, how did that go? Did you talk about how much he hurt your feelings when he-"

"Abby, I'm not going to tell him he hurt my feelings, my feelings have nothing to do with it. He's a liar and a Half and the only reason I'm working with him is because I have to. You aren't our couple's therapist, we aren't a couple, we aren't even real partners. We're Pairs who have to work together because we have the same goal and can't reach it alone."

I paused to take a breath, feeling my next words come out and then wishing I would have bitten them back.

"I still hate him."

Abby acted like a kicked dog when I left, but one spout of semi-teamwork didn't erase the months of anger I had built up. Even if I couldn't seem to find my anger for him usually, I knew it was there, somewhere, or it should be. He hadn't even apologized, if a thing like him could, if he could even feel remorse.

Ailech was waiting for me outside Abby's office, looking bored as usual, Ember nowhere in sight since Sunday was her day off as well. We walked in silence for a moment, but I could tell he was waiting for the right moment to break it. I had been getting better at observing people, reading them, even without my Gift.

"What?"

I usually would have just waited it out, but I was already in a nasty mood and Ailech's delay was only annoying me further.

"What do you think's wrong with him? You know, Socio?"

"Why does something have to be wrong with him? He's a Half, he's not a nice person, that doesn't mean something's wrong with him, it's just how he is."

I wasn't satisfied with my own answer, and I knew Ailech wouldn't be either, but the last thing I wanted was to have to talk about James with Abby and then Ailech within the same hour.

"No, I don't mean personality-wise. I know he's an asshole. I mean...is he sick with something? A mysterious Halfling flu or Hell herpes or something?"

I stopped in the middle of the hallway to level a deadpan stare on him.

"Darklings don't get sick like Humans do, you should know that."

We walked in silence down a few more halls but I knew the conversation wasn't over.

"Did you train with him again today?"

"Holy hell, not you too! Is everyone here trying to make me feel guilty for not being glued to his side every waking moment? I hate him, okay? I'm not going to be his friend. We aren't going to 'hang out', and I'm not his keeper. Would you all just give it a rest and leave me alone!"

I knew I shouldn't be yelling at Ailech. I knew he wasn't trying to make me be close to James, in fact, he probably wanted the exact opposite, but it didn't matter. I couldn't stand everyone watching what I was doing, waiting with bated breath to see what would happen between James and me. It was none of their damn business and why should they have any say in our relationship when even I didn't? Why should they get to know what was going on when I was still clueless? I had no idea how I felt about James, how he felt, if he even could feel anymore, but everyone was acting like we should have had some tear-jerk reunion. It was all so frustrating, so overwhelming. I just wanted it to go away.

"Sorry."

My apology didn't sound overly sincere, but it was the best he was going to get and he seemed to know it. We made the rest of our way to the shooting room in silence.

I was choosing which bow weight I wanted when Ailech spoke again. I leaned against the wall, staring up at the ceiling as I scratched at the back of my hand. But Ailech didn't say what I'd been expecting, something about teamwork or tolerating each other or anything like that. What he did say got my full attention.

"I only asked because he came to see me this afternoon with a weird injury. His hand was, well, stabbed through, right in the center of his palm, and he couldn't have done it himself, the angle wasn't natural. They were standing in front of him, facing him, I'm almost sure of it. At first, I thought he had just had some accident training on his own, but unless he tossed a knife in the air and it fell point down into his hand, laying palm-up on the floor...there's just no way. Even if that had somehow happened, and the knife's point was weighted strange or something, it still wouldn't have had the force needed to sever the things it did. It glanced his bone, shaved it really.