Croak (18 page)

Zara let out a snort. “It’s not like you can walk through the streets and zap anyone you want,” she said. “Killers can only release souls from bodies that are already dead. They can’t
cause
death—at least not by touch alone.”

“So let me get this straight,” Lex said. “This Grotton dude would scythe to the village washer wench who had pissed him off earlier that morning, smash her head in with a rock, and scythe back out, all before the Grim team got there to Kill and Cull the poor thing?”

“Exactly,” said Driggs. “Directed Crashing allowed him to instantly murder whoever he wanted, whenever and wherever he wanted, all while escaping detection. The most efficient homicidal maniac of all time.”

Silence fell upon the circle.

“Unless—” Lex started. They eyed her. “I mean, how do you know for sure that he was so evil?”

Ferbus bristled. “Did you not hear what we just said?”

“I mean, maybe the ones he was killing were bad people, or . . .” She trailed off at the sight of the disgusted faces surrounding her.

“They weren’t,” Ferbus said curtly.

“How do you know?”

“Because—” Elysia looked around, then whispered, “Because a bunch of them were Grims.”

Lex’s eyebrows shot straight up. “He went after his own people?”

“Eventually, yeah.”

Lex looked around the bar at the individuals who could now be described as her own people. Uncle Mort had arrived and was already lighting someone’s drink on fire, much to the merriment of those gathered around him. She also couldn’t help but notice the curious stares coming from some of the Senior Grims; a few of them even pointed at her, mouthing “Mort’s niece.” Most seemed friendly. A few, predominantly gathered around Norwood and Heloise, did not.

“Well,” Lex said slowly, “Grims could just as easily be bad people. Doesn’t Grotton’s very existence prove that?”

“It doesn’t matter whether they were good or bad,” Driggs said. “What matters is that he ruthlessly slaughtered a shitload of people using a power that humans were never meant to possess.”

Lex was quiet for a moment. “No offense,” she said, “but all this sounds pretty far-fetched.”

“Duh,” said Sofi. “That’s why it’s called a legend.”

“But what are you saying here? That these targets are being murdered by an allegorical bogeyman?”

Driggs gave her a disparaging look. “Come on, Lex. Grotton’s been gone for centuries, if he ever existed at all. But the myths live on, and they still scare the crap out of Grims to this day. The thought of someone learning how to Crash with direction—it’s pretty unsettling, don’t you think?”

“But Crash in to do what?” Lex said. “There weren’t any crossbows sticking out of these people’s heads.”

Driggs looked thoughtful. “Grotton wasn’t exactly a paragon of subtlety. There are a lot more modern ways to murder people now, better ways of covering your tracks—though I don’t know of anything that can end a life instantly. Or white out someone’s eyes.”

“Neither do the Smacks,” Sofi said.

After a moment of contemplative silence Driggs shrugged. “Just keep looking out for them, I guess. Not much else we can do.”

“Except get shitfaced,” Ayjay said.

And just like that, the shadow lifted. Zara left for the bar to get more drinks, and Kloo and Ayjay dove right back into each other’s tonsils.

Lex took Elysia aside. “Seriously, Lys,” she said. “Is this Grotton thing really true?”

“Oh, yes,” Elysia said with wide eyes. “He’s like the Grimsphere equivalent of Hitler.”

Lex really liked Elysia, so she tried very hard not to laugh at that. “But why?” she asked. “I mean, I can see why he was a threat to people in the outside world, but aren’t Grims protected by the ether?” After the plane crash Driggs had explained that the reason they didn’t lose consciousness at thirty-five thousand feet or get wet in water or burned in a fire was that every time they scythed, their bodies became surrounded by a thin layer of ether that shielded them from the elements.

Elysia cocked her head. “Not from everything, Lex.”

“So—wait, we’re not bulletproof?”

“No,” Elysia replied. “We can die just as easily as anyone else.”

A sliver of fear darted through Lex’s body. She wasn’t sure why she had assumed that Grims were invincible, but the sudden realization that they weren’t hit her like an icy splash of water. “Which means,” she said, “that if this murderer ever decides to stop targeting baseball enthusiasts and drunken cougars and go after Grims like Grotton did . . . we’re completely defenseless?”

Elysia nodded.

Rattled, Lex glanced at her beverage. A large, grimy bubble had erupted onto the surface.

“Why aren’t you drinking?” Ferbus piped up. “That’s a waste of a perfectly good Yorick.”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just not in the mood for raw sewage.”

“Shhh,” Driggs said worriedly, putting his hand over the brim of her drink. “It’ll hear you.”

Lex could see no reason not to fling all the contents of the mug directly into his face.

Driggs sensed this. “What I mean is, you must respect the Yorick,” he said. “Come on, Lex, you’re sixteen and you’re at a bar. Drink already.”

It was hard to argue with this logic. And so she drank already.

The first thing to bombard her senses was the taste—a rich, creamy, delectable sweetness that was so deeply satisfying it felt like it flowed through every vein in her body, right down to her toes. Like a chocolate-vanilla-malty-caramel-honey-cocoa- ecstasy milkshake, the buttery potion lingered on her tongue long after it had cascaded down her throat. A sumptuous aroma filled her nostrils, stinging her lungs with its potent decadence, blazing hot and icily cool at the same time.

But that wasn’t all. Lex realized that in addition to the liquid-candy flavor, she was physically tasting the feeling of
elation.
All her troubles melted away; indeed, it was hard to imagine that she had ever had any troubles at all. A soft glow settled around the edges of her vision as her friends laughed at her stupor. She didn’t even care. She loved them. She loved them so much . . .

“Whoa,” yelled Driggs, grabbing her shoulders and giving them a hard shake.

“Yummm,” she gushed.

Ferbus and Elysia laughed. Driggs finished off his own mug and flashed a silly grin. “Be right back,” he said, stumbling to the bar.

“What’s
in
this stuff?” Lex sucked down another gulp, not wanting to waste a precious second with frivolous talking.

“Elixir,” Elysia said. “It’s made from the white fluff in the atrium. There, it’s in its rawest form—strictly functional and architectural. But when you remove it from the Afterlife, it condenses down into a liquid state and gives you the most amazing feeling in the world. All Corpp does is mix it with his special blend.”

“Of what, crack?”

“Who knows?” Elysia smiled. “Yoricks are different wherever you go in the Grimsphere. The ones in DeMyse have a fruity taste, and in Necropolis they’re much more bitter. Each place has its own secret recipe, but I personally
loooove
ours. It’s like dessert.”

“Like a rainbow,” mumbled Ferbus.

The girls stared at him.

“Anyway,” Elysia continued, “they’re popular wherever you go. The Grims’ international drink of choice. And the best part is—”

“No hangover!” Driggs returned with another round. “It doesn’t stay in your system as long as alcohol, it’ll never make you puke, and the next day you’ll wake up feeling like you just won all of the Olympics.”

Lex slurped down the rest of her mug and reached for another. “It can’t be that easy,” she said. “If this got out into the public, it would be outlawed in seconds.”

“Actually, there
is
a three-drink maximum.” Elysia pointed to a sign hanging over the bar. “And that’s strictly enforced. But that’s all you need. It’s potent stuff. Whatever’s in Elixir isn’t really meant for this world. A few pure drops could drop you in a flash. That’s why it’s diluted so heavily for drinking purposes, and that’s why there’s a cutoff. Drink any more than that, and you tend to stop breathing,” she said brightly.

“But Grims have been pounding this stuff for centuries,” Driggs said, “so we’ve gotten pretty good at it. The only way you could get hurt under its influence would be if you went to hug a coat rack and poked your eye out.”

“It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye,” Ferbus said too loudly. “Then it’s one-eyed fun.”

Elysia put a napkin over his head. “That’s why there’s no drinking age here. You can hardly outlaw something that cheers people up, especially with the line of work that we’re in.”

Lex pointed at the walls. “Is the décor supposed to cheer us up, too?”

“Yep! Corpp used to be an artist,” Elysia said. “So when he retired from Culling and opened up this bar, he couldn’t help himself. He repaints it every few days.” She took another gulp. “See, Corpp always wanted this to be a place for Grims to come and just have fun. You know, let off some steam from the morbid work we do and hang out in one big, unifying, satisfying, creative, artistic masterpiece.”

As Elysia drunkenly giggled into her drink, Lex glanced at the old man behind the bar. He smiled at her. She smiled back. And as the night wore on, she continued to smile so often and so hard that by the time last call rolled around, she feared her face would be stuck that way forever.

She even cracked up when Ferbus spilled his drink all over her shirt.

“You frickin’ klutz!” Elysia screeched.

“Hey!” he said. “I’m the victim here! That was my last drink!”

Laughing despite her wretched state, Lex made her way to the bathroom to clean up. She held her shirt under the hand dryer until it was mostly dry, then stole a glance at the mirror. The face that looked back was almost unrecognizable.

It was happy.

The giddiness waned, however, as she exited the bathroom to find only an empty corner where the Juniors had been. “Where’d everyone go?”

Driggs, the only one left, shrugged. “The Crypt has a curfew. If they don’t get back by midnight, it locks them out, so they had to run.”

“Without saying goodbye?” Lex asked warily. She tried in vain to catch his eyes, but they seemed to be unwaveringly fixed on her sodden chest.

“What?” He looked up. “Yeah, you look fine.” Now he looked confused. “Uh, let’s go home.” He dragged her through the crowd, placed their empty mugs on the bar, and headed for the door.

“Wait, what about the buckets?” Lex asked, shooting Corpp a questioning look.

He gave her a pleasant smile. “Have fun!”

Lex tried to decipher this as they walked down Dead End. “Have fun with what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe . . . this,” Driggs said as he ducked down a narrow alleyway. Lex blindly followed, her hands feeling along the walls until they emerged at the edge of the forest. She stopped.

Driggs gave her a devilish look, his attention now back in full. “Come on,” he said, plunging into the trees.

Lex looked around nervously, her courage fading ever so slightly. She gave her head a determined shake. Surely a fearless ruffian such as herself couldn’t be scared by a little darkness.

And a lot of creepy shadows.

And the thickest forest she’d ever seen.

Driggs called out for her once more, so she timidly stepped into the woods, felt her way down the path, and tried not to look at the impossibly black spaces between the trees.

Until something white caught the corner of her eye. She watched the figure—a hunched form moving slowly through the wood. For some reason, she thought back to her first time in the Field, when she’d felt someone watching from behind a bush. Panic gripped her throat. Surely it was a deer or an especially large rabbit—but no, Elysia had told her that animals usually steered clear of Croak, too spooked by the omnipresent air of death.

Lex moved a little faster now, nervously glancing at the figure, which by some small miracle was making no attempt to come any closer. She glimpsed down the trail, desperately searching for Driggs, but the path had taken a sharp turn and he’d disappeared from sight. She broke into a run, willing herself not to look back, but after a mere five seconds she couldn’t help it. She whirled around and swung—

At nothing. The wood was empty.

Now even more spooked, Lex turned back—only to slam into something solid and Driggs-shaped. “Jerk!” she screamed at a hysterical pitch, punching him.

“Ow!” He rubbed his back. “Kidneys again? Ever feel like changing things up? Maybe go for a non-vital organ?”

“I see no need to mess with tradition,” Lex said, gulping air and trying to return her voice to its normal octave.

“God, you are so . . .” He looked at her with an expression she couldn’t quite decipher. In their flushed, drunken states, it was difficult to tell where this loss of inhibition might lead. But his face was coming closer.

Lex held his gaze and didn’t back away. “What?”

His nose was inches from hers. “So distracting.”

A maelstrom of butterflies crashed through Lex’s stomach. She swallowed and licked her lips, her brain trying to anticipate what was about to happen, whether she should put a stop to it, and how to avoid looking like an inexperienced idiot if she didn’t.

Luckily, a heretofore unseen low-hanging branch spared her the decision. It poked Driggs squarely in his already-bruised blue eye, causing him to jump back and flail wildly at the air. “Dammit! See what I mean?”

Lex blinked a few times, then found her voice. “Bad week for the eye, huh?”

Driggs shot her a Look, then took off down the path and dissolved back into the darkness, grumbling. Lex followed him, snickering at her temporary insanity. What exactly had she expected to happen? Those Yoricks must have been more potent than she thought, for her to even consider the idea of jumping aboard the horny teenager bandwagon.

She continued to follow him down the path a little farther, clearing her mind of all that foolishness and instead pondering what an awesome band name Horny Teenager Bandwagon would be, until eventually the trees began to thin. Lex scoped out the clearing. The moon, peeking out from a blob of clouds, reflected faintly off the ripples of a large pond.