Sort of Dead

84 - Extra Limbs And No Thirst

AAR'S POV:-

All of us take turns embracing the new Es. Well, she’s technically the same, cute, upbeat spirit we all knew and loved; she’s just undergone an upgrade.

And here’s the thing about upgrades: they don’t all suck.

Soon we move out of the place - Goof flies away into the air - get into the carriage and Saayu beats the wind. I for one don’t want to be killed by ravens after all the thorns that I’ve made through.

The carriage ride is fun. Bee dozes off on my shoulders, and this time I am not vaguely but wholly aware of it. It feels . . . well, I don’t need to tell you. Hopefully some day you’ll discover the feeling for yourself. Then I’ll ask you what it felt like, and we’ll see how you do with your answer.

Marra, still kind of red-eyed, is engaged in a singing contest with Es (who is apparently very pleased with her brand-new vocal cords, and doesn’t seem to hiss as much; as much, mind you). The two could be flop Broadway-aspirants, for all you know. Mr. Om does not intervene. In fact, he closes his eyes and starts to whistle himself.

And that’s when I notice what has changed about him.

‘Your arm . . .’ I say incredulously. How did I not notice such a thing before?

Mr. Om smiles very kindly at me (which is peculiar; usually when he smiles I assume he wants to eat me for dinner). Then he hold up his two hands, giving me a clear view at them.

‘How?’ I ask, trying not to wake Bee (still on my shoulder; awesome-blossom).

'Marra's parents,' he answers.

‘Uhm, elaborate.’

That kind smile again. ‘They live inside me now, to look after Marra. Their son. You could say they are only “sort of dead,” in a way.’

Mr. Om drops a wink at me.

‘So the arm . . .?’

‘Some things we cannot explain if we wanted to. Suffice to say, I felt . . . complete when they entered me. I think I might have passed out.’ (Good. So I’m not the only one, at least.) ‘After that, I just remember waking up with two arms. And it feels utterly natural.’

There will sure as cream be questions once we reach {Undisclosed} since Mr. Om is quite a prominent figure back there. How such an affluent, prosperous, handicapped guy goes on a mysterious trip with his orphan nephew and returns with a new arm. But after tackling as much as we have, that hardly seems like much of a problem . . . 

. . . which is when another question comes to buy free real-estate in my mind. ‘Marra, how do you know for sure that your curse is gone?’

He stops his singing for a second, the smile wiping off of his face. ‘Yeah, that’s a good question, actually. I hadn’t thought of that. Like, at all.’

‘Do you want me to kill you?’ I ask deviously. ‘If you stay dead, then it’s been lifted.’

He rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah, right.’

Bee hoists her head from my shoulder and talks as though she had never been asleep: 'We could show him blood. If it makes you thirsty, then . . . well, let’s see.’

‘You weren’t sleeping!’ I say.

I like to think Bee blushes at this point. ‘Your shoulder feels . . . nice.’

‘Enough with your flirting.’ Marra winks. He looks an awful lot like Mr. Om when he does that. Maybe Mr. Om has changed a bit in his face as well, and started to resemble Marra's parents, which in turn means he resembles with Marra.

So – much – confusion.

‘Look who's talking,' I mutter, eyeing Es, who's apparently intrigued by the smell in here. It’ll take some time for her to get used to her new senses of touch and smell, I guess. I’m glad the first thing I smelt in my life wasn’t cabbage.

'Who's blood is it gonna be, then?’ Marra asks.

Bee stands up wordlessly, then folds the sleeves of the tattered sack she’s wearing, revealing a particularly notorious cut on her shoulder, not clotted yet.

‘Hey, you didn’t tell me!’ I pretend to sound offended.

'It's no big deal. It was an accident.’

‘That could be infectious!’ I argue. ‘You of all people - '

‘Mar, come on,' Bee cuts me, and I slump back. ‘See if this makes you thirsty.’

Marra leans over, inspects. His eyes are luscious. He licks his lips in temptation. Doesn’t say anything, just leans more and more toward the cut. Bee and Mr. Om and even Rasthrum start sweating profusely.

Es pats him on the back, still sniffing at the cabbage smell, curious. ‘Marrum-pum-pum, you really still want to drink that?’

Marra starts laughing.

I do, too. He’s a bad actor, after all. Who could tell but me?

We high-five, the two of us. After our laughing fit is over, Marra beams more brightly than I have seen him beam since I know not when. Probably forever. The red in his eyes has now become a light burgundy, and I finally see him as my friend again – the same friend who saved me from the Gabocks by distracting them using the prospect of doing their project – and not as the kid who chased down an evil, shady woman. ‘No,' he murmurs, more to himself than to us, as if expelling the curse with his exhalation. ‘No. I’m not thirsty.’