Croak (32 page)

Zara got up, sniffed hard, and wiped her face with her sleeve. She turned to Lex with an eerily calm expression. “So where should we start?” she rasped, removing both of their scythes from her pocket. “I’m thinking death row. I know they’re condemned anyway, but that can take years. We can help speed the process along.”

“We?”

Zara gave Lex a startled look. “You’re coming with me,” she said, as if this were obvious.

“Why the hell would I want to do that?”

“Because you can!” Zara exploded, her face furious. “This is what you’ve been fighting for ever since you arrived, the ability to punish people who deserve it! What you just saw is nothing—
nothing—
compared to what that bastard’s soul will be going through for the rest of eternity. So don’t you dare sit there and tell me that you don’t want to do this, that you don’t believe this is the right thing to do. Think of the difference we can make! We have complete power over anyone with a pulse! And I mean
real
power, not just the puny little witchcraft that comes with being a Grim. You can’t just throw it away!” She blew a sweaty clump of silver hair out of her face. “This is the side you belong on, Lex. And you know it.”

Lex took a breath and held it. For any normal person, the choice would have been a no-brainer. Always choose good over evil. Anyone who’s ever studied history, read a comic book, or seen
The Princess Bride
would know that. But Lex was not a normal person. And so, despite everything, she hesitated.

She knew that the depraved feelings inside of her would never lie dormant; the steadily intensifying shocks were proof enough of that. There was no way to quash them, no way to drive them from her mind and body, no way to prevent them from rearing their hideous heads and alienating the people she held so dear. It had become clear to her that impulses like that wouldn’t ever go away, and they couldn’t be destroyed. And now that she had touched her own sister’s corpse, she wasn’t even sure that she wanted them to. The world was a hideous place. It deserved the destruction she could create.

And Zara was right: it would be foolish to squander such a valuable gift. If Lex really could stop anyone she wanted to, why
not
go after the world’s cruelest monsters? She’d be violating the Terms of Execution, and she’d have to abandon Croak forever, but maybe if it were all for the greater good . . .

But everyone back in Croak who had loved her and accepted her for the freak that she was would be devastated. They’d never forgive her; she’d never be able to return. She had made a true home there, somehow managing to cobble together a handful of real relationships that meant more to her than almost anything ever had before. Was all that worth throwing away? And the greater good—Lex didn’t even know what that meant anymore. Was Uncle Mort on the side of good? Or was Zara?

Was anyone?

Lex swallowed. It wasn’t worth it. The noxious, ever-wakeful rage would continue to surface, there was no doubt about that. And maybe one day she would succumb to it, but not yet. Not alongside Zara. If that meant death or Damnation, then so be it. The alternative, the thought of teaming up with the person who had murdered her sister in cold blood—it made Lex feel dirty, infected, diseased.

She could never live with herself.

Lex looked defiantly into Zara’s wild eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“What?” Zara desperately pointed both scythes at her. “But to be born with a talent like yours—you’re only the second person in history!”

“I don’t care.”

“You’d better care.” Zara’s lip curled. “Because you’re either with me or you’re Damned. I can’t let you go. You must know that.”

Lex scanned the stepfather’s body, still smoldering. Where was his soul now? What was happening to it?

For the first time, Zara began to look uneasy. “Come on, Lex. Don’t make me do this.”

“Go to hell.”

Zara angrily stalked off to the corner, where she stood in silence for a moment before letting out a small laugh. “Do you want to hear something funny, Lex?” She turned around to display a grotesque smile. “I sought out the ability to Damn because my life was a horrific, unbearable mess. My mother walked out on us—just left me alone with that sick pervert when I was nine and never came back. No wonder I turned out the way I have. But you . . .” she said with a glint in her eye, “you can Damn despite the utopian upbringing, despite the loving family. Why, Lex? Where is all of that malevolence coming from?”

Lex stared back blankly, as one does when faced with a question that has no answer.

Zara saw that she had struck a nerve. But Lex remained silent, and before long a flash of rage shot across Zara’s face. “Suit yourself,” she growled, shaking her head as she drew closer, extending her hand. “It’s a shame, though. You could have been really, really good at this.”

Lex cowered into the floor and prepared herself for the pain. But then she thought of Cordy, and how she hadn’t gotten the slightest chance to defend herself. She never even knew what was coming.

And so with one final, desperate tug, Lex jumped to her feet, tossed the unknotted ropes to the ground, and grabbed both scythes out of Zara’s hands.

“Sorry,” Lex said. “But I’m really, really good at escaping, too.”

And with a quick upward swipe of her scythe, Lex jumped into the ether, Zara’s screams of surprise and fury echoing softly in the deafening wind.

Lex lay very still on the ground of the Field and looked up at the purpling sky. Cheerful pink clouds drifted lazily past the branches of the Ghost Gum as a warm breeze swept across the plain, carrying with it the tart, earthy scent of grass. She exhaled and watched the dust specks dance through the air, all the while trying desperately not to think about the fact that her best friend in the universe was dead.

Driggs’s spiky hair immediately poked into her view, right in front of an ostrich-shaped cloud. “Lex?” he said softly, crouching down. “Are you okay?”

She sat up and blinked at the group of Senior Grims who were surrounding her. She gave her head a shake to quiet her racing thoughts. Cordy was dead. Zara had escaped. Everyone was in trouble. Cordy was dead. Jellyfish. Scars. Dead—

“The Bank. I have to get to the Bank.”

Without another word Lex jumped to her feet, pushed past the Senior Grims, and sprinted across the Field. Driggs took off after her as she pounded up the stairs to the porch and into the lobby, where Kilda sat nervously wringing her hands. Lex blew past her and ran straight up the staircase, bursting into the small office on the second floor.

Elysia was waiting for her. “She’s okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “We got her, she’s okay.”

Lex, wielding both scythes, panted heavily and gestured at the vault door. “I want to see her.”

“Lex,” Elysia said gently, “it would be better not to. She’s confused, she’ll need a few days to understand. Give her some time.”

Something in Lex collapsed. She remembered the befuddled dentist she had bothered, his look of disorientation mixed with a panicky fear. Accosting Cordy now would only make things worse. She couldn’t do that to her.

“She’s with Edgar.” Elysia took Lex into her arms. “He’ll take care of her.”

Lex choked out a sob into Elysia’s hair, which smelled like strawberries. Time seemed to dissolve as she clung to her friend. Hauntings of the ordeal blazed through her head in scattered fragments, ultimately settling on Zara’s final, lingering question: Why
was
Lex born with such evil inside her?

And worse still, how could it possibly be worth the life of her sister?

Driggs soon bounded up the stairs, followed closely by Uncle Mort. Lex parted from Elysia’s arms and glanced at Driggs’s tortured face. He avoided her gaze.

“Uncle Mort,” Lex said, “it’s so much worse than we thought—”

“I know,” he replied in a detached voice, peeling the scythes out of her hands. She had been holding them so tightly, even with the burns, that her knuckles had turned white. “You need to tell me everything.”

She nodded, wiping her red, blotchy face with her red, blotchy hands. Uncle Mort, unable to tear his eyes away from the silver scythe, eventually put it into his pocket and turned to Driggs. “Gather everyone up at the fountain. Emergency meeting. Mandatory.”

Driggs nodded and ducked out of the room. Uncle Mort threw an arm over his niece’s shoulder and began to lead her down the stairs. “Wait!” she cried, running back to Ferbus’s desk to retrieve her presents. The top of the Lifeglass now appeared considerably fuller. Catching a murky glimpse of Zara, Lex hurriedly tucked it under her arm.

Uncle Mort brought her to the library, where he bandaged her hands as she recounted everything: what had happened in the dusty basement, what her flashes of rage had really meant, what she had just unleashed upon the world—

“And then I scythed out,” she finished bitterly, “without attacking her, without doing a thing to stop her from being able to Damn anyone she meets.”

“Which means that if you hadn’t stolen her scythe, we all would have been in a lot more trouble,” Uncle Mort said with a hint of pride. “Without a scythe, she can’t Crash. She’s limited to regular modes of transportation just like the rest of us.”

“But she’s still out there. Can’t we look for a Loophole of our own and chase her down? She said she found the last one, but that’s gotta be a lie, right?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think Zara would have told you what it was if she didn’t absolutely, one hundred percent believe that there are none left to find.”

“But how could she know that?”

“From what I’ve read, a found Loophole somehow displays the number of Loopholes that are left once it’s opened.” He sighed. “I have no doubt that Zara saw a big fat zero on that scroll.”

“So we’ve got nothing.”

“Right.” He fidgeted apprehensively, biting his nails.

Lex looked at her hands, then closed her eyes. “I tried to Damn her, Uncle Mort. I didn’t know that’s what I was doing, but I did know I wanted her dead. I must have broken dozens of laws.” She looked back up at him. “How much trouble am I in?”

“I don’t know. Given the circumstances . . .” He scratched his chin. “I’ll talk to Necropolis, see what they say. I probably would have done the same thing.”

Lex looked at the heavy Terms of Execution book on the table. Its pages were filled with past Grims’ transgressions and punishments, the worst of the worst. And now she was one of them.

“You said Grotton was the only one,” she said quietly.

“I know. I was wrong.” He swallowed. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your—”

“It is. My fault. You showed all the signs, I just never thought—” He shook his head and let out a long breath.

Lex studied her uncle.

“Uncle Mort, do you know
why
I can Damn?”

He stared straight back at her, his eyes hard.

“No.”

Lex looked away. Apparently she wasn’t the only liar in the family.

They sat in silence. The sound of people gathering began to grow louder, morsels of gossip floating in from the square.

“What should I say to them?” Lex asked flatly.

“You’re not going to say anything.” He got up. “They’ll have too many questions, and you’re not exactly—” He started to say something, but changed his mind. “Better for you to stay out of the public eye. At least for tonight.”

Lex stood up and made for the door. “But—”

He grabbed her shoulders, blocking the way. “Please, kiddo, just trust me on this and stay here. Mutual respect, remember?”

Lex thought for a moment more, then nodded. She trudged back to her seat and collapsed into it, her energy depleted.

Uncle Mort headed out the door, pausing only to glance back at his niece for a brief second. “Lex,” he said sadly, his hand on the knob, “you’re a good kid. You really are.”

Lex sat alone at the wooden table and listened to the muffled sounds of her uncle’s announcements, as well as the ensuing laments from the crowd outside. She watched the fading sunlight crawl across the floor, then studied the numerous group photos of Grims on the walls, from the black-and-white olden days to a copy of the picture she had just received. For some reason, they calmed her down. She was one of them; she belonged here.

So there she sat in a daze, just as she had when she learned for the first time what the Terms were and why she couldn’t just go around bumping off whoever she wanted to.

But the thing was, she could.

And if she had, maybe Cordy wouldn’t be—

She squeezed her eyes shut tight. She couldn’t think about that right now.

Restless, she walked over to a large shelf crammed with decaying books. Her bandaged fingers swept across their cracked spines, leaving a trail through the heavy dust, until a faint glimmer of gold caught her eye. She wiped off some more of the grime and read the gilded title:
The Legend of Grotton: Deluded Myth, or An Outright Cock-and-Bull Lie?

Lex realized she had stumbled into the Grotton section of the library. Why hadn’t she thought to look here before? Zara obviously had. Irritated, she took the book from the shelf and opened its cover.

Scribbled messily across the title page in thick, heavy ink were the words,
WRONG BOOK
.

Frowning, she placed it back on the shelf and picked up the next one—
The Criminal Mastermind Hell-Bent on Worldwide Destruction Who Once Came Close to Obliterating All That We Hold Dear: A Pop-Up Book—
and found the scrawl once again. But it didn’t look like it could be Zara’s. Who had written this?

Anxious now, she tore through the rest of the volumes on the shelf, only to find that each one contained the exact same phrase—wrong book, wrong book. Lex scowled. Which one was the
right
book?

The answer lay at the end of the row. A gaping, empty void loomed within the shelf, almost taunting her. Zara. Zara must have taken it.

Defeated, Lex absent-mindedly paged through the book in her hand, an academic-looking tome simply titled
Grotton: A Biography.
As she flipped to the back, however, she stopped. Her eyes grew wider as she read to the bottom of the last page. Handwritten in very small lettering was a note.