Chapter 16 Blair wakes with a jolt, gasping for air. This manages to startle even Death from where she sits beneath a window (she can usually be found here, watching the sky display its colors-the Mors are obscenely dull in comparison). Lenny is quick to peer down at the Tele, his freckled face drenched with concern. "Are you all right?" He shakes his head. "I think you were having a nightmare or something-" Blair shoves him back with a surge of power. "How long have you been awake?" she demands. "Uh, a little while?" The Imperial blinks at her from across the room, looking impossibly more worried. "You were sleeping, so I didn't want to bother you-" "Well, you should have," she seethes, sitting up in bed. "I don't need you watching over me." Mara stands to pace the perimeter of the room. She thinks better on her feet. Perhaps it is the rhythm her mind craves-something her still heart can no longer provide. Hesitantly, Lenny asks, "And why would that be a problem if I was?" Death watches the Tele swallow thickly-perhaps her pride, because Blair finally murmurs, "I dream about Adena. Often. And I don't want anyone to ever witness it." The Imperial lifts a brow. "Witness what, exactly?" "My weakness," she bites out. "Your-" Lenny laughs, drawing a scowl from Blair. "Your weakness? You do know you're talking to a Hyper right now, yes?" "I killed a criminal-or so I thought-and she haunts me every night!" the Tele blurts. "Of course that makes me weak. And I'm supposed to be a general someday?" Now it is she who laughs, albeit humorlessly. "You are not giving yourself enough credit," Lenny scolds as he steps toward her. "Don't worry. You are terrifying." "Maybe that is the problem," the Tele ventures bitterly. "Maybe I was meant to be like Adena. From what I've heard, she was passionate. Kind. Spirited." Her voice grows oddly timid. Mara tilts her head at this shift in tone. "What if that was who I could have been? A girl who dreamed and lived and pursued her passion. A girl who had two people willing to kill for her." "There is still time to be that girl, if you want," Lenny says softly. "Or you can remain exactly as you are-a frightening, frigid bitch. A compliment, of course," he adds hurriedly. "Look, you must feel cheated, like you never got a chance to figure out who you were-are. So do that now. We are killing you, after all. I doubt there will be a better time to start over." Sincerity coats his words, the type Mara knows a man only offers when he cares for someone. In return, Blair seems rather comforted by his receptive response. This alone has Death beginning to begrudgingly question how doomed these souls really are. Lenny sits on the edge of the bed. To Mara's annoyance, the Tele allows this. "But," he starts slowly, "you're allowed to be sharp, you know. Even the prettiest flowers have thorns." His freckled face reddens. "Not that I'm saying you're pretty-I mean, shit, you are pretty, but-" "No need to embarrass yourself further," Blair quips. "I know I'm pretty. It's the only quality of mine people care to compliment." "Well, that's all you let them see." She forces her features into a dull expression. "And you see something else?" The Imperial shrugs. "I see someone who became what they needed to. And that takes courage." They stare at each other. Too long. "I want to find Paedyn." Blair's sudden demand startles her gingersnap. "What? We aren't done forming the plan. Blair, this is a delicate matter-" "There is nothing delicate about fake dying," she snaps. "I'm sick of waiting to begin my life. Just go get her and-" "No." Death didn't think Lenny was capable of such a stern objection. "We have to do this right, or one of you may actually end up dead. We aren't ready." The Tele bristles at his blatant rejections. "Fine." "Blair-" "I'm hungry." She gives him a mental shove off the bed. "Will you at least get me food, or do you need time to plan your route to the kitchen?" Lenny fights to find his footing beside the bed. "Your condescension doesn't work on me." "I'll try harder next time." "I'm sure you will." The Imperial fixes that white mask onto his face before striding toward the door. "You know, you're annoyingly funny at my expense." He steps into the hall. "See, there is a compliment that has nothing to do with your appearance." Blair is quick to cover her slight smile with another demand. "Tell Gail to add a dash of toasted coconut to her muffins. She can thank me later." "I'll be sure to relay your request in a less demeaning tone." Death takes her leave with the Imperial, stepping out into the hall, where the floor falls away. There, atop the plush carpet, she sinks gracefully toward a different plane entirely. Her feet meet the cracked earth of her home, and it rumbles in approval at her arrival. Yes, it is rather bleak here in the Mors, Death thinks as she takes in the brittle trees and wailing souls. But this is her eternity. Best not to compare her gloomy domain to the vibrance that the living so love to overlook. With that in mind, Mara attends to the awaiting souls like any other day in the afterlife. She collects countless from everywhere life exists beyond the Mors. Some are rather peeved with Death (more than usual), because, admittedly, they have been trapped within their lifeless bodies for far too long. It can be quite claustrophobic, Mara imagines, being entombed in your own decaying flesh. You see, a soul remains trapped within its vessel until Mara gathers and releases it into the Mors. Her time in Ilya, though strictly educational (or so she tells herself), has left Death a bit distracted. Souls have been neglected in their corpses for longer than Mara cares to admit, and she typically prides herself on efficiency. After dragging a particularly grumpy spirit to its underwhelming afterlife, Death steps back onto the plane where sunsets are a normality, and heartbeats run rampant in every chest. She appears before Blair's door, only to find her standing outside it. Mara tilts her head at the scene she has stumbled upon. A tall man stands opposite the Tele, his hair like a wave of midnight crashing over his brow. He is broad, his strong features only made less severe by the promise of dimples framing his mouth. And his gray eyes pin Blair to the wall. "Just..." He points to her door. "Get back in there. Please." Death knows this man. She walks a slow circle around his powerful body. Yes, he has delivered many souls to Mara. She has seen his stern face above the bodies he has drained of life. In fact, even she has heard whispers of this Elite. Here stands the Enforcer of Ilya. The brother to a dying king. The Deliverer of Death, they say. Mara would be the judge of that. She halts before him, studying his soul. A flicker of surprise touches her features, witnessed by no one. A shimmering darkness swirls within him, sheer and threaded with strands of pure white. Death blinks at such an odd sight. This is certainly not what she had expected. "Hmm. It seems the Slummer taught you some manners. How ironic." There is that tiresome insult. Mara discerns, dolefully, precisely who it is the Tele refers to. For a woman with the gift of evading Death, she certainly deserves more respect from the living. Blair's malice is like a reflex. It is as though she is wired to be his enemy, forced to forever find her worth in whether or not the Enforcer still considers her competition. The Tele had told the truth in that house (the one just beside those twisted trees uprooting the past)-she can't help but despise the Azer brothers. The Enforcer's voice is low. "Don't, Blair." Oh, but she does. And the Tele likely doesn't even know why. "So will you share her with Kitt the rest of your life? Or find another Ordinary on the streets?" Blair gasps sharply when the looming man slams her against the wall with a single thought. That has Death halting before him, her gaze searching his stern features. She is beginning to discover that this is no regular Elite, as they so enjoy calling themselves. No, his soul alone is a complexity that does not belong to Ilya. The Enforcer steps toward Blair, who has found it futile to fight against her own power. The man is frighteningly calm, his threat little more than a murmur. "Talk about her like that again, and you will be begging to stay locked in that room, safe from me." Mara believes him, for his soul calls to something within her. "Shit." The Tele lifts her widening gaze to his, nearly laughing. "You're in love with her." Hmm. Another curious discovery. Blair is abruptly released from the clutches of this man's mind. The Enforcer struggles to smother the shock on his face, and that is all the proof Death needs. Paedyn Gray's heart belongs to another-the brother of her betrothed. "I always knew there was something between you, but..." This time, Blair does laugh. "You're completely in love with her." The strongest Elite, brought to his knees by an Ordinary. Ironic. Romantic. Doomed. Mara has lived this tragedy. The Tele steps forward slowly, still shaking her head at the lovesick prince. Her grin is cutting. "Oh, you are fuc-" "Prince Kai!" Blair rolls her eyes at the familiar voice. The Imperial, rounding a corner, balances two plates of food while wearing a horrified expression beneath his mask. The glare he throws his assignment burns with betrayal. Lenny then clears his throat to make room for the wave of words about to flood from his mouth. "Hello, sir, it's great to see you. Um, Blair, sweetheart, you're meant to be in the room. Not loitering outside of it, yes?" "Um, Lenny," the Tele starts sweetly, "my little gingersnap that I could quite literally snap in half with a single thought, Kai spotted me before I had the chance to enter the room and send my sharpened knives flying toward those who pass beneath the window." She addresses the Enforcer then. "He loves that game. Don't let him tell you otherwise." (Death finally has a name for the infamous man using hers.) Death finds Lenny's immense discomfort rather entertaining. "Quite the sense of humor she's got." He herds the Tele toward her door. "Never a dull moment with this one!" "Oh, please," she snaps. "Don't pretend that you like me; it will only make me work harder to-" The Imperial slams the door in her face. "-ensure you don't," Blair finishes furiously from within her room. Mara remains in the hall, still immensely curious about this Deliverer of Death-of her. "Keep her out of sight, all right?" he orders. "It could have been Paedyn that walked down this hall, and we all know what she would have done." That was precisely what Blair was hoping for, Death wishes to shout at the humans. But there is no use. A lifetime ago, when Mara was young and still enthusiastic about her career, she would talk to the living. Not for them to hear, of course, but for her to never forget the voice of a gentle girl who died violently. "Yes, sir." Lenny nods in understanding. "She can't stay locked up forever, though. It's not right." Mara is surprised by the Imperial's boldness on behalf of his assignment. "I know." The Enforcer sighs. "But Paedyn needs time." He turns then, setting a quick pace down the hall before calling over his shoulder. "Good luck with her." "I don't need luck. She's not so bad," Lenny murmurs. The door swings open to display the patronizing pout on Blair's face. "How sweet, gingersnap." "Shit!" He practically jumps at the sudden sight of her. "What, did you have your ear to the door?" "Like you couldn't hear me breathing," she returns. "Your intake of breath is the last thing I pay attention to." The Tele scowls. "Then you are clearly still stifling your power." "No." The Imperial's stern defiance is accompanied by a wagging finger in Blair's face. "No, you don't get to do that. I'm the one who should be mad right now." "Go on, then," she goads. "Scold me. I could use a good laugh." Lenny steps into the room, his brows knit together. "Fine. You can't sneak out like that again. What if the king throws me out before we even go through with the plan?" Sneering, Blair steps close enough to have the Imperial swallowing. "And what is that plan, exactly? It's time I light a fire under your ass, gingersnap. Otherwise, I'll never get out of here." The Imperial is hardly listening. No, his mind is somewhere else entirely. "Fire," he mutters. A boyish grin spreads across his freckled face. "I have an idea." Mara turns away from their hushed conversation to peer down the hallway. The Enforcer is gone, and yet another mystery is unsolved. But Death is unworried. They will meet again. In a romance-themed observation show, several participants undergo a series of interactions and conflicts filled with love, misunderstandings, and power struggles. In the end, one couple rises to over...