Torn Apart

Won't Make It to the Shore Without...

Everything was so very, very dark. Lewis had seen this bleakness take hold of Vivi, had seen it put her out of commission time and time again. But for the first time, he was pinned down by the weight of it all alongside her.

Failure.

Failure.

Failure.

At the sight of Solo's body, sprawled on the bedroom floor, her will had flared up in a cold, hard way that pushed him off to the side and didn't allow him any room. She called up Deadbeats to lift his body, but kept his head stable herself, guiding his body out of the room and downstairs. Lewis wanted to reassure Dulcie, now sitting back in the chair, knees drawn up tight and book clutched closed between white-knuckled fingers, but he couldn't break through. Vivi left her staring at the cocoon of light pulsing in the center of the bed.

A solid block rose up from the floor and the Deadbeats laid Solo's body onto it. Vivi draped his hands crosswise over his chest.

Her every motion fought through tar. Her forearms ached with the weight of inadequacy and someone had hollowed out her bones and filled them with lead. She could barely fill her own lungs. The banshee screech of her soul flung him into the tiniest crevices where he clawed for a hold, a grip, anything to keep from flickering out. Her thoughts slipped the bonds of reality and ballooned out of control, trapping him in place.

When Arthur comes back he'll kill me. He's not himself. He'll think this is my fault, and it is. I didn't look for details like he does. I missed the signs and steamrolled the rest.

Lewis struggled against the thoughts. Details were Arthur's deal, not Vivi's. But the pressure rose.

Chloe will blame me too. I didn't pick up she was calling for help soon enough. I didn't stop and plan with the team. She'll probably get depressed and stop eating and maybe die. And then Solo died for nothing at all, and then Arthur will really really kill me.

Lewis tried to direct them back to check on Chloe, but Vivi wouldn't move, her hands planted on the edge of Solo's pedestal, trying to stay upright. The ground was looking pretty good.

I should just sink into the ground and keep going, and never stop.

The floorboards creaked and Lewis panicked. Vivi was in control of his mansion, she couldn't be thinking like that!

I should be dead. Arthur would be able to do what he needs to without me getting in the way. Mystery wouldn't hate me so much. Maybe he'd even be a little sorry. I miss him. But I can't stand it.

The chandelier sagged overhead as chunks of plaster thudded to the carpeting and thick white dust rained down.

No! Vivi, not like this!

Yes. Like this.

The walls groaned, wood panels bursting inward. The sound of a train rushing down the tracks echoed in her mind.

It wouldn't even hurt that much.

The near hallway collapsed in on itself. The staircase began to split apart. The desperate blare of an oncoming horn roared all around him.

Not my Vivi! Rage crackled through his spirit, burning back the blackness surrounding him. Her despondency gave way to his fury, and Vivi slammed her fists on the pedestal, howling at the unfairness of it all. Mansion architecture jammed itself haphazardly back into place. Nearby suits of armor turned on each other, swinging swords wide and wild. Here, a helmet flew. There, an arm dropped to the ground. Swords sank into walls or carved open rusted breastplates, and pieces of armor littered the foyer.