Intermix Nation (32 page)

Nazirah looks back towards the table, but
Adamek isn’t there anymore. The room is almost empty now, save for
a few remaining stragglers refusing to let the party die. Nazirah
doesn’t see him anywhere. She wonders if he snuck off with that
purple-lipped vixen. “I don’t see why not,” she says.

Ramses grins widely and grasps Nazirah’s
hand, ushering her out of the room. He leads her rapidly through an
unfamiliar corridor. “It’s just a little further up this way,” he
says.

“We’re not going to the courtyard?”

“It’s a shortcut.”

Nazirah becomes aware of how clammy his hand
is, as they turn down an even narrower passageway. She stumbles in
her heels, which are killing her feet, but Ramses doesn’t slow
down. Nazirah glances behind her nervously, but the passageway is
empty.

Nazirah stops then. She tries to wrench her
hand away, knowing in her gut it is already too late. Ramses turns
around, facing her. He lets go of her hand. “What are we doing
here?” she asks warily. The kindness in his eyes is gone, replaced
by something else, something dark and sinister. Nazirah has seen
this same look before, not a week ago.

She should have known better.

“Honoring my father’s last wish,” he says.
Ramses speaks softly and then punches Nazirah square in the
jaw.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Nazirah isn’t expecting the blow. She tries
to dodge it, but his fist pummels her cheek and mouth, sending her
sprawling to the floor. Her dress rips, tearing clean up the side,
lace splitting to mid-thigh. Nazirah spits blood onto the floor,
staring up at Ramses in fury.

He comes at her again. Nazirah jumps up,
reflexively kicking him in the shin, spike of heel vibrating
against bone. He curses loudly, hissing and momentarily hunching
over. Nazirah knows she can’t overpower him or wall kick in a
dress.

She runs.

Adrenalin pumping, Nazirah pulls off her
shoes. She throws them at him, sprinting back down the passageway.
The dress is too long and she trips over it, staggering. Ramses
swiftly catches up to her. He grabs Nazirah and spins her around.
She tries to punch him. “Help!” she screams. Hoarse cries echo down
the empty corridor. Ramses forcefully shoves his palm into her
mouth. She bites down on his hand, breaking the skin, tasting his
sickeningly sweet, metallic blood.

“Intermix bitch!” he yells. Ramses slaps her
across the face with his other hand, shoving her against the wall.
Nazirah thrashes, fighting to break free. But he is too strong. He
is far too strong. She tries kicking him again, but he anticipates
it this time. He pulls her away from the wall and then slams her
back into it, knocking the wind out of her.

Ramses grabs her inner thigh. She struggles
against him, managing to reach an arm up and claw his face. But he
doesn’t stop. With one hand, Ramses unbuttons his pants. Nazirah
panics. Rapidly losing strength, she battles unconsciousness. She
shouts at herself to fight, to do something – anything – other than
freeze.

Using every last ounce of energy, Nazirah
throws herself forward. She slams her head into Ramses’,
temporarily stunning him. Not wasting a second, Nazirah latches
onto him. She jabs her fingers into his eyes, trying to rip them
out of his skull. Ramses yells in pain. He attempts to rip her off
him, but Nazirah’s grip is too tight. He begins choking her, but
she does not let go.

She will not go out like this.

She is suffocating. Ramses throttles her
throat, compressing the delicate column of bones and muscle. Her
vision blurs and wavers. Desperate, Ramses blindly fumbles in his
jacket pocket. He pulls out something, silver gleaming in the dark
corridor. Nazirah knows her time is up.

She can’t breathe.

She can’t breathe.

She can’t …

Nazirah collapses into a heap on the ground.
She leans against the wall, encircling her hands protectively
around her throat. She hacks, coughing, inhaling oxygen that feels
like pure heaven. Ramses has let her go.

But why … why has he let her go?

Vision and thoughts unfocused, Nazirah
watches the knife fall from his hand, clattering to the floor.
Ramses crumples before her, screaming in agony. His arm is twisted,
bone cracked and protruding.

Sight returning, Nazirah peers up through
the blur. Someone stands over Ramses, beating the life out of him.
The white spots before Nazirah’s eyes give her savior a crude halo,
which she finds absurdly hilarious. Because she should be surprised
that he would be her angel. But she isn’t surprised. Not in the
least.

The look in Adamek’s eyes could send a man
straight to hell and make him want to stay. Adamek grabs Ramses’
scalp and slams his head repeatedly into the floor, until his nose
is busted and his cheekbones are shattered. He pulls Ramses up,
tossing him like a rag doll against the opposite wall. Nazirah
flinches, can hear ribs breaking, cartilage matchsticks. Ramses
moans loudly, slumping to the ground again, too stubborn to lose
consciousness.

Adamek turns his back on Ramses, staring at
Nazirah still huddled against the wall. He scans the blood on her
face and arms, immersed in her pain. He doesn’t notice Ramses,
gripping his uninjured hand around the fallen knife, staggering to
his feet.

“Behind you!” she screams. Adamek whips
around swiftly, the knife missing his exposed neck by centimeters.
But he isn’t quick enough to dodge the blade entirely. It slashes
into his upper left arm. Adamek hisses. Nazirah can see the blood
pooling under his white shirt, staining it crimson.

Adamek grabs the knife, snapping Ramses’
wrist. Ramses wails in anguish, but Adamek doesn’t let go. Nazirah
covers her ears, unable to hear that sickening noise. Ramses falls
to his knees, face nearly unrecognizable. Adamek holds the knife
against his throat, intentions clear.

“No!” Nazirah stumbles forward, grabbing
Adamek’s wrist. He looks at her, bewildered. “No,” she repeats,
more forcefully this time. “Just … don’t.”

“You want me to spare his life?” Adamek
hisses. “This man who just tried to kill you and fuck your corpse?”
He’s angry with her and doesn’t remove the blade from Ramses’
throat. But Nazirah doesn’t waver and she doesn’t let go of his
wrist.

“Please Morgen,” she begs, “no more violence
tonight.” Adamek stares at her for a long time before lowering the
knife, dropping Ramses entirely. He slumps to the floor, body
making a somber thud as it hits the ground. A moment later, Nazirah
hears someone running down the corridor. Olag appears before them,
breathless. He stops short, taking in the scene, taking in
Nazirah’s appearance. He walks over to Ramses, shaking, growling,
and howling.

“It’s okay!” Nazirah cries, touching his
arm, hoping he understands. “Nothing happened!”

“Let me talk to him.”

Adamek speaks rapidly to Olag in
Deathlandic, eventually handing him the bloody knife. Olag nods,
pocketing it. He bends over Ramses’ body, preparing to pick him
up.

“Wait!” Nazirah says, bending down. She
grabs Ramses’ collapsed face, making sure he is still
semiconscious. Adamek and Olag watch her curiously. Their
expressions turn to shock as Nazirah delivers several excruciating
kicks to his groin. “That’s for trying to kill me, you bastard!”
she screams, raw, losing control now. Ramses moans, unable to shift
even an inch. “And I’m an intermix bitch?” Nazirah reaches into her
mouth, scooping some blood and saliva and rubbing it over his
remaining face and lips. “See how good intermix tastes!” She kicks
him one final time before backing away, hyperventilating.

Adamek stares at her wordlessly. Olag slings
a now-unconscious Ramses over his shoulder. He walks away, leaving
the two of them alone in the corridor.

“Right,” Adamek says after a beat.

“What did you say to Olag?” she asks, wiping
her bloody mouth with the back of her arm.

Adamek inspects his own arm, wincing
slightly. “That our alliance with the Red Lords is too precarious,
especially with us still in the Deathlands,” he answers. “Solomon
will inform them about tonight after we leave tomorrow. Also, not
to tell Slome anything until morning.”

“Good point,” she says.

“Come on, Nation,” he sighs. “Let me take
you back.”

Nazirah doesn’t pull away from Adamek when
he wraps a hand around her waist, holding her steady. They slowly
start walking. “Shouldn’t you go find a healer?” she asks him.

Adamek shrugs his good shoulder. “I’ve had
worse,” he says. “I’ll bandage it in my room … it looks deeper than
it is.” His eyes roam over her cuts and bruises. “What about
you?”

Nazirah shakes her head, even though her
body is screaming. “I think I’m more upset than anything else,” she
says. “I don’t want to see anyone.”

He nods like he is expecting it. They pass
through the empty courtyard. Nazirah struggles to climb the stairs.
He waits patiently at each step. They finally reach the corridor
where both of their rooms are located. It’s black outside. The only
light comes from the hanging lanterns that line the walls. They
stop in front of Nazirah’s door.

“How did you know?” she asks.

Adamek shakes his head. “Once he said his
name, I knew. Before the party ended, I went to find Olag. When I
came back, you were already gone.” He sighs. “I should have never
let you out of my sight.”

“We were just going for a walk,” she
murmurs. Adamek is silent. “Thank you,” she says in a rush. “I was
such an idiot for leaving with him. I should have known better; I
don’t know what I was thinking.” She stares at her dirty hands. “I
wasn’t thinking. You saved me.”

“Not fast enough.”

“You were.”

He reaches out to touch her forehead, thinks
better of it. “What happened there?”

“I head butted him,” she says, oddly
proud.

He smirks. “Figures.”

Nazirah clears her throat. “Before Ramses
attacked me,” she says shakily, “he said he was honoring his
father’s last wish. Do you know what he meant by that?”

“The Deathlanders are savage people,” Adamek
says, shrugging. “Khanto’s last wish was probably to kill us
all.”

“Savage people?” she asks, annoyed. “Unlike
the Medis, obviously.”

“Nation, I’m in no mood to argue with you,”
he says. “You should know by now that I don’t care about race like
that anymore. I haven’t since … a while. The Deathlanders live a
harsh life. And yes, they can be savage for it. That’s all.”

“Fine,” she says simply.

“You should get some sleep,” he says. “Make
sure you lock your door.” He stands there, waiting for Nazirah to
walk inside. Her hand is on the doorknob, but she finds herself
unable to turn it. Nazirah faces Adamek. There is caution, wariness
in his eyes.

“I really don’t want to be alone right now,”
she says quietly. Nazirah waits for his rejection, waits for him to
tell her no. She waits for a long time.

“Okay.”

Adamek turns abruptly, walking down the
corridor towards his own room. Nazirah trails behind him,
surprised. He pushes his door open, gesturing for her to enter. She
does before she can regret it. He follows her inside, locking the
door.

Adamek’s room is a mirror image of her own.
Nazirah, whose belongings are usually strewn into careless heaps on
the floor, is not surprised to learn that he is much tidier. There
are no photos, no childhood mementos. There is no mess, only a few
books. It is spotless, almost clinical. Save for several empty
liquor bottles, resting precariously on top of the silver briefcase
in the corner.

Adamek walks over to his dresser, retrieving
a small bag from one of the drawers. He rifles through it, lazily
grabbing an open bottle of vodka. Nazirah watches him pop a white
pill and take a swig. He comes over to her, dropping another pill
into her hand. “It’s not tequilux,” he says, extending the bottle.
“But it’s all I have, unless you want to drink from the
faucet.”

Nazirah stares suspiciously at the pill in
her outstretched hand, cautiously grabbing the bottle. “I’m not
interested in going on some acid trip with you,” she says.

Adamek snorts. “Do you even know anything
about drugs, Nation? You don’t drop acid on a pill like this.”

“What is it?”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s just MEDIcine!
Don’t take it if you don’t want to, but it will help with the pain
and swelling. Not the bruising though … or the hangover.”

“Great,” she says, popping the pill into her
mouth. She grimaces, tipping the bottle back as well. Familiar, icy
relief immediately spreads through her sore muscles. She touches
her face, slightly dazed. The bump on her forehead is gone. Adamek
laughs before taking back the bottle. He walks into his bathroom,
leaving the door open.

Nazirah stands there awkwardly. Her
curiosity eventually wins out and she leans over, trying to see
what he is doing. She jumps a little when Adamek appears at the
door, barefoot and smirking. “You can come in, you know,” he says.
“I promise to be a good boy.”

Nazirah sheepishly follows Adamek inside,
automatically shutting the door behind her. He raises an eyebrow,
but doesn’t comment. Metal lanterns bathe the ivory walls in soft
candlelight. Adamek sits on the flat edge of the tub, inspecting
his hand casually. His knuckles are bruised, but nothing appears
broken. Nazirah quietly sits beside him, pulling a knee to her
chest. Adamek takes another swig of vodka before pouring some over
his bloody hand.

“What are you doing?” she asks, confused.

“Don’t have any rubbing alcohol,” he says,
shrugging. “This is the next best sanitizer.”

“How resourceful.”

“Would you expect anything less?”

Adamek winces slightly, letting the now-red
vodka drip from his hand into the tub. Nazirah is reminded of the
last time she saw a bathtub filled with blood. From the forlorn
look on Adamek’s face, she knows he is thinking the same thing. She
grabs the bottle from him, taking a big gulp.