Deathless

Chapter 35: Jackson

Death had found... an alternative option.

War's words play, over and over again, in my mind like a cyclone. Death had stopped perfecting his device because he'd found another way. The ravens had followed my words. The Ghouls had responded to my commands. I didn't know what it meant, but I knew one thing. Those were Death's powers. And if I had some of his powers, maybe I had more? I swallow uncomfortably, the hard lump in my throat growing. The thought is as frightening as it gets, but I can't ignore it.

Our footsteps ring painfully through the staircase, bouncing off the concrete steps and metal handrails. Strip lights overhead throb down on us. War had Brian show us to his private staircase. It was quicker than the slow and busy lifts, but we were about halfway down and apparently, all my hours in the gym hadn't quite given me the cardio fitness I thought it had.

Millie is one floor below me. I see her dark curls bouncing as she strides down the steps. Hear her rough breathing. She looks up at me, hesitating before looking back down. Her eyes aren't cold, or angry, just conflicted. Like I'm a question she hasn't found the answer to. She continues her way down, and I watch for a moment, slowing my steps.

What if I could stop all this?

I pause. Millie doesn't notice, she keeps going. I grip the handrail, hard enough for my knuckles to turn ivory. My body is stiff, heat rises through my skin. I don't know how to do this, even if I can. With the ravens and the Ghouls, I did nothing. I just felt it. It came from nowhere. Maybe we don't need Death's time device, maybe we just need me...

I stand there, close my eyes and just try to feel. For what, I don't know. But I need to try. My thoughts become too loud, like every tiny noise in that staircase. The air feels thin, the scent of car fumes from the garage turning to acid on my tongue. Millie's footsteps, her rapid breathing, the echo of gravel scattering down a dozen floors after being nudged by Millie's foot. The overhead lights buzzing, the flickering light—it all seems to grow, to throb.

And then I can feel it. Nothing. Everything. An entire universe of darkness and it flows through me like a black river, like ash passing through my fingers. And each tiny fragment is another second, another minute, an hour, a decade.

I'm on a rollercoaster, and at first, the speed is manageable, pleasurable even and then it's too fast, more than my mind, my body can handle. I'm soaring through existence, hurtling through, like a comet soaring through the solar system.

I see my past. The good, the bad. I see my mother. Smell her food as she bakes, hear her laugh, see the cloud of white filling our warm kitchen as she throws flour playfully at me. I don't want to leave that place, those moments, but I keep moving. I can't stop it. I see Camille. Her sweet laugh, the soft flick of her ebony hair. I see myself, the boy I was before I died. I see the future I thought I'd have with her, a gold band I never gave her. And the fire, see its rage and fury as it tears apart her small village, turning everything to black. I feel the rough ground beneath my knees as I watch my future burn. I feel red hot tears scolding my cheeks. And then I'm surrounded by filth, half-buried in the dirt. The world around me is hell. There is no other word. No language I speak has a word to can convey it. I hear guns spitting their venom. I smell smoke and hear the cries of boys like me. Our lives sinking beneath the mud. I feel my death surging closer.

It's too much. I reach out with my mind, trying to hold on to something, anything. But everything just passes through. I can't control time. I can't control whatever this is.

I don't want this. I never wanted this.

"Jackson," Millie's voice is faint. Far away, but it breaks through the darkness. It's so distant, but I cling to it, use it to ground myself. To pull myself back to her. It's hard. And that velvety blackness is so easy.