Fragile Facade (Vile House #2)

1. Blink

1

BLINK

GHOST

He rips my hair when he pulls it, yanking my face from the tepid pond water. My eyes have been open the whole time, but I keep my lungs closed, refusing to suck in a breath until I absolutely can’t help it. Until my body does it without my permission. Until death is so close that it’s almost desirable.

“Breathe.”

I don’t.

“Breathe!”

Fuck death. Fuck it for trying. Fuck it for wanting me. Fuck it for failing.

I grin into the dark woods through the murky water, refusing to breathe, watching the shadows, hellions, and demons shroud the area around me. Creeping in from all directions to take me to the underworld and hold me captive for eternity, they’ll laugh in my face if I fail. If I’m cursed and death is knocking, it can knock fucking harder. Try harder! Cut deeper! Fucking come for me, Death! Fucking try it!

“Breathe, Ghost!”

Despair is so cynical. Almost hypocritical. It’s hopelessness mixed with misery, and pathetic because of its power. I feel it just to fight it. I experience it just to believe it. Because it’s real, but I’m not its fucking prey.

Death is a promise, but life isn’t a guarantee. I’ll die, but life won’t make me. Living won’t force me into a grave before I’m goddamn good and ready to fall into one, kicking and screaming—laughing harshly.

Desire is taboo. Almost forbidden. To want and to take is the goal, but to yearn and be denied is the reality. I chase it to taunt it, but it chases me back to goad me into the grave I refuse to settle in.

Desire. Death. Despair. Round and round we go.

It’s here. It’s gone. It comes. It goes. I desire the chase to death and despair as the end result. Masking and hunting and thrill-seeking and sobering. It’s all an unharmonious circle. An addictive chase that leads me nowhere and a pause in time that creates confusion.

Who am I and where am I going? What am I and what is the point of anything?

Where does it start and how does it end? If I die here, right now, what would have been the point of existing? If I live through this and delay death, what is the purpose of surviving?

Murder. Suicide. Here. Gone.

“Breathe!” His mouth lands on mine and his fingers pinch my nose. He exhales his air into my closed lungs, forcing them open until I accept his breath, choking on it because I don’t goddamn want it! I wasn’t close enough. Death was there, but she wasn’t touching me.

The shadows all dissipate, and he’s ruined it. He’s ruined my dance with impermanence. He’s fucked up my desirable hunt for death and filled me with despair because I was almost there. Almost looking into her eyes and telling her to fuck right off and try harder next time.

Desire. Death. Despair. Oh, this tango we do…

“You fucking prick.” He breathes into my mouth again, and this time, I cough it back out. I expel his breath and the water in my lungs, the pond in my stomach. I hack it all up and turn onto my hands and knees in the shallow pond while he whacks my back and hates me.

I love the way he hates me. Desire and despair, mingled into something that thrives in a chase to death.

My face reflects at me, the rippling water morphing me into the version of myself I see inside my head. Warped and twisted, broken but glued together to near perfection. No one sees my cracks but me. My jagged parts are so artistically put back together that I’ve made myself a masterpiece. I’m tainted perfection and insane power, and nothing, not even the desire of death, has been strong enough to crack me into the undone puzzle I truly am. It’s a grand illusion, and I am the magician who showcases the mirage of me.

Riot yanks on the back of my shirt, flipping me until my back slams onto the weedy shore of the small pond, his dark waves falling over his forehead. My lungs wheeze and gurgle, but my vision is just fine. His tumultuous grey eyes glare down at me with such a heady mix of emotions that all I can do is laugh. At him. At the sky. At the pond. At death. Because fuck him! He drugged me and took me from The Ambient Raven just to prove a point. That he’s stronger than me. That he can push me to Death’s doorstep and pull me right back.

But it’s not him who pulled me back. It’s me . Because I’m a Sauder man, blessed with a beautiful suicide curse, and I’ve been chasing it all my life. I’m not like my brothers. I’m not scared. I’m not afraid of dying and tempting fate. I’m eager for it! Come at me! Try and fucking take me!

Because I’m stronger than it—more powerful than a curse. I’m the illusion, right? So when I’m there, right on the precipice of desire and despair, a wish and a whisper away from the curse that’s taken my father and my brothers, I’ll laugh in its fucking face and trick it. Haha! Joke’s on you, Death! I’m already dead inside, broken and glued together with something so much worse than the finite end you promise. And when she’s confused by me, wondering why I won’t cross over and join her in the afterlife, I will turn my back on her and make her chase me again. Harder.

Because I’m Soren Sauder, and nothing or no one will kill me until I’ve finally tempted the wrong devil.

I laugh even harder, my stomach cramping with the force of it. The stars all watch, and the moon spotlights my insanity. Riot sees it all, and instead of worrying about me, he laughs right back.

Because I’m chasing death.

But he’s the hellhound nipping at my heels to herd me there faster.

He’s fucking relentless.

He kicks my side so hard I buckle and sink into the sludgy mud. I hold my breath, my lungs already screaming, letting myself sink even more, the pond hugging me into its silky embrace.

The hug ends too soon when he straddles my legs, pinning me down with his strong body. He’s not stronger than me, but I like wicked games, and they’re even more fun when he thinks he’s winning.

Grabbing the front of my shirt, he pulls me up until my face is out of the shallow water. “You think this is funny?” he asks, grey eyes stormy and amused. “How close were you?”

I cough up sooty muck and water. “Not close enough.”

“One foot in the grave?”

“One foot in Hell, the other lifted to take the last step.” I cough harder. “Wanna walk there with me?”

His grin is disgusting because it’s full of all that death, desire, and despair I war with daily. It’s a cumulation of everything I feel, displayed so perfectly in a smirk, made better when his tattooed arm comes up to push back his dark hair, amplifying the image of him. “Oh, we aren’t walking there. We’re running. You think you can outsmart death?”

I laugh because it feels good. The warm water laps against my skin and regulates my body temperature. I love attention, and I have all of his, so I keep laughing. “So far.”

“Alright, Ghost. Fuck the bargain with our brothers. Here’s the new deal.”

“I don’t make deals.”

“Here’s the deal,” he repeats. “Whenever you tempt Death, I’ll tempt her harder by pushing you straight to her. If you want to defy this curse, I’m going to defy you . Wanna see how hard you can push back without dying? Fine. Do it. But I’m going to press you until you finally learn that you aren’t as powerful as you think you are. However close to Death you get, I’ll take you one step closer. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll have both feet in the grave, half your soul in Hell, and you’ll be so beaten down that you won’t be strong enough to resist it anymore. You won’t be able to laugh in her face.”

I suck in a breath before he pushes me underwater, holding me down until I’m half dead. My eyes bulge and my hearing muffles. When my lips pop open to tell him no deal and that he’s delusional if he thinks he’s stronger than I am, nothing comes out. No air. No words. Nothing. Water fills me. Riot tilts my head until one ear comes out of the water, but not my mouth to breathe.

“And when you’re right there, finally ready to die for real, you’ll submit to me and admit that I’m stronger than you are. That I win.”

Fuck that. I want to laugh again, but I’m too dead to try.

Riot smiles down at me, one of those cocky, sure-of-himself grins that means he’ll let me die right now if I don’t accept this deal. I’m not ready to fully die. I haven’t proven myself enough yet. I’m half there, losing air and unable to think clearly through the fog taking over my mind.It’s not a true death I’m after yet—it’s that one or two second precipice between.

“You tempt death. I tempt you. When I win, you admit I win. Agree. Blink.”

I’m so close now. The shrouding shadows and all the hellions are coming back. The water is comfortable and the muck is hugging me tenderly, drowning me in warmth. Death is a she, I just know it, and when I meet her and she brings me a true death, I want to leave this fucked up world even more fucked up than it was when I arrived in it.

“Agree. Blink.” He pushes down on my already still chest.

A flash of Remi flits through my mind and I try to shake it free. He’s got Krypt. He’s fine. This is the closest I’ve ever been to the afterlife, and I’m not pulling back now. I’m ready to laugh in the face of Death.

“Blink!”

But I can’t laugh because there’s no more energy to laugh.

“Blink!”

Blackness takes over and all I see are the shrinking grey spots of his intense eyes and the look in them that proves he hates me so beautifully.

Don’t blink. Don’t blink. We’re so close, don’t blink.

Remi. Selena. Remi. Selena.

Riot. Riot. Riot.

I suffocate on memories instead of water, trying to block them out so I can step on the doorstep of Death’s lair and slam the door back in her face. I’m knocking, but she’s not answering. She’s laughing at me. Mocking me for trying to defy her.

I’ll be back, you crafty bitch.

Then I blink.Not because of Remi and Selena. Because I’m selfish enough to live longer to prove I can outsmart Death—outsmart Riot. That’s my new deal.

I fade out when he doesn’t pull me up right away. He grins at me again, my vision disappearing until my eyes stop seeing but stay open, and I drown in the pond out on Carnival Hill. A fitting place to die. Probably more bodies in here than water.

It’s not as peaceful as I thought it’d be.I can’t feel the one or two second precipice.

But here I am. Dead. Smiling. Trying to laugh.

“Not today, sweetheart.”

I gasp and throw up, looking into the eyes of the hound I’ve goaded into joining me on this trip to defy my finality. I have no control of my body, but he does. Riot holds me up, sitting in the pond, smiling at me like I didn’t just die for a few seconds. “Call me that again…” It’s hard to snarl while half alive, but I manage.

“Guess what this makes me?” he asks while I cough. Grabbing my throat and tilting my useless head up to look me in the eye, he says, “Your God.” He squeezes so hard I feel my windpipe bend.

When he lets go, pushing me back down, he makes sure my upper body is on the shore. Then he leaves me out here in the middle of the woods on Devil’s Night to think about my new reality.

I blinked. I made the deal.

Finally, my laugh comes back. Because it’s going to be so fucking fun dragging him to Hell with me.