Deathless

Chapter 2: Jackson

I walk out of my door and into the cavernous cathedral-shaped space that is the main heart of Scythe HQ. Everything, including the enormous pillars ahead of me, is made of light-sucking matte black stone. Depictions of Death and his creation of Scythe are carved into walls so high I can barely make out the images. The semi-circle of desks at the back is equally impressive, all decorated in elegant highlights of gold. A team of receptionists dressed in black blazers and severe haircuts are greeting the various visitors and staff with raised eyebrows and tight lips.

I move towards the statue ahead of me. As tall as the building itself, hundreds of feet high, all in black marble, of Death himself. Each floor of Scythe is effectively just a balcony, wrapped around Death's inescapable form. His cloak draping elegantly around his bony form, his skull-face staring down at me. It never fails to send a shiver down me. And a pang of rage.

At the bottom, hanging as high as can be reached by the ladder perched on the side of the statue, are thousands of missing posters. A hundred or more distinct faces, human and animal, all belonging to one entity. All the faces of Death.

Walking closer, I take a deep look into a pair of steel-grey eyes, drawing me forward. Icy fingers seem to drag their nails up my spine. I drag my attention away, shaking my head.

"Still gone Frank?"

Frank, my favourite security guard, steps down from the ladder to stand by my side, a dozen or so posters still in his hand. His beige uniform strains across his belly, sweat beads on his forehead, and he's panting hard.

"Yup." His deep voice is gravel in my ear. "We're near three weeks now. Boss's never been gone away this long before. I'm getting a little of the nervous belly about it. Everybody is." He glances over at me, and takes me in from head to toe, narrowing his eyes as he does. "Except you. Nothing fazes you, does it, Jax?"

It sounds like an accusation rather than a compliment.

"He'll come back. He'll be back in his office, scaring the shit out of trainees before you can say M.I.A." I laugh a little too loud and slap Frank on the back. He shrugs and starts mumbling to himself. Frank keeps grumbling as he walks away.

Dragging my eyes away from Death, and the gnawing feeling in my gut, I head towards a row of a dozen black and glass lifts and step inside the nearest empty one. It's time for my debrief.

***

"And this one?"

I sigh, tilting my head slightly to the side. In front of me, a thousand small coloured beads hover in the air. They merge and blend, shifting into a new image. The beads assemble into the shape of a tree, a thick brown trunk with deep green leaves hanging from its branches. The same shade as her eyes. I gulp, my concentration gone.

"Jackson?"

Millie.

"Ummm... a tree?" Thomas chuckles and types rapidly on his laptop from the corner of the room. I'm squirming in the dentist-style chair, trying to get comfortable, but I'm itching to get out of here. The dark room is stuffy and I'm fighting a losing battle against my heavy eyelids. Debriefs take hours, but we're on the last portion of the Cognitive and Emotion Equilibrium test. Word association. Associating a tree with the word tree is not the response he's after.

"This one?"

The tree shimmers and transforms before my eyes into an old-fashioned-looking camera. It hovers in the air before me.

Millie.

"Photo," I say a touch too quickly. Thomas raises an eyebrow at me and goes back to typing. Narrowing my eyes, I try to focus on the hovering image ahead of me and not the memory of flicking through Eva's file, the photos of Millie scorching my fingertips.