Chapter 20 Nikai
Nikai
From his perch in the observation room, Nikai stared out at all eighteen levels of the Tenth Court’s administrative area.
He could see the souls hunched over computer terminals in their cubicles, heads bent in concentration. But no one could see
him.
Some time ago, Ten had redesigned this place to resemble a panopticon—a circular prison with cells going round a central tower.
Using a clever play of light, the inmates could not see into the guard tower, which stood in the middle, but the tower itself gave the impression of being all-seeing. Similarly, Ten’s staff and the souls working here never knew if their King was watching them, and so they self-regulated
and behaved as if he had eyes on them all the time. It was a stroke of genius.
And it told Nikai everything he needed to know about the Tenth King.
Underneath the tower, the fiery pits of the kingdom were on full display beneath glass walkways, the sight intimidating enough
to deter any wayward soul. But the Tenth Court’s area of expertise was psychological. There were pitch-black cells that served
the purpose of harsher punishments, should judgment call for it. The atmosphere of the whole kingdom was so different from
the Fourth Court it gave Nikai whiplash every time he visited, which, thank the gods, wasn’t very often.
Today, however, he was here on his own accord.
Nikai paced, irritated. His pager was going off incessantly with messages from the other Reapers. There was just so much to
do.
Ten swept in like a river of blood, interrupting Nikai in mid-curse. “I do not recall asking for you.”
Nikai stuffed his pager into his pocket. “Your Majesty.” He bowed. There was a corner of gray at the edge of Ten’s robes by
his foot. “I’m aware I have not been summoned, but I couldn’t wait. Did you talk to the girl?”
“I did.”
“What happened, Your Majesty?”
Ten took his time to answer, circling the room, observing the workers outside in their cubicles. He seemed to enjoy the sight
of Nikai squirming in silence, holding in his barrage of questions for fear of being rude.
“I felt a trace of Four on the girl,” Ten finally revealed. “It is likely there because he saved her mother’s life and, thus,
hers. However, there is something more to her, but I am uncertain what it is for now.”
That’s what the First King said that night about the girl. One had said the child could be valuable to the mortal realm . . . chosen for a greater purpose. Few had seen One ever since they were imprisoned in their palace; Nikai had not seen them after Four
vanished.
“Did you tell the girl Four saved her life?” Nikai asked, thinking the girl deserved to know.
“As you have reminded me, Reaper, we have not found my sneaky brother for so long and we have no idea how he is hiding from
us. It would be wise to keep our cards close until we have more information.”
“How about the boy? Did you see him?”
“He was with her. I did not detect a trace of Four on the boy, but . . . he confuses me.”
Nikai tensed. “How so?”
“I want you to keep an eye on both of them,” Ten said, strolling to the window. “Inform me immediately if anything of interest
comes up.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Nikai said. Ten had ignored his question about the boy. Was Ten hiding something?
Ten smoothed his flaxen hair. It seemed dull, its luster diminished. How far into the Tenth kingdom had the Nothing encroached?
At least there were no signs of it here in the center of the Court yet.
“By the way, I made a deal with the girl.”
“A deal?” Nikai exclaimed. How could Ten drop this information so casually?
“Bit of a savior complex, that one. Makes it easier to fool her.”
“Fool her?” That bad feeling about Ten taking matters into his own hands returned. If he was operating outside the confines of stipulated rules between the realms, there was no controlling him and what he might do to the girl or any other mortal.
“There are two types of humans: those who run into a burning house to save a cat, and those that think, It is just a cat.” Ten considered Nikai, a cunning glint in his eyes. “I wonder which type you were.”
“Did you tell her that deals with Kings are binding across lifetimes?” Nikai asked, refusing to let the conversation derail.
“I do not see why she needs to know.”
“You took advantage of her ignorance and desperation,” Nikai accused in a burst of courage. “If the deal is unfulfilled, the
two parties will remain bonded until all conditions are complete. Did you tell her that before she agreed? What was the deal?”
Ten cocked his head like a bird spotting a worm. “My dear Reaper, who are you to judge when you have sinned as a mortal? Who
are you to lecture me on righteousness when you do not remember how you lived your mortal life?”
“Reapers forgo our memories to take on this role. It is a sacrifice.”
“A sacrifice? Do not joke.” Coming dangerously close, Ten trailed a fingernail across Nikai’s throat.
The room dimmed.
Nikai froze. He could feel his insides slowly seizing.
“You call it a sacrifice, but it is cowardice,” said Ten. “How easy it is to forget all the terrible things you did when you
were alive, to forget the guilt. How wonderful it is to have your slate wiped clean; all you need to do is to serve your King.
Who would not want that? Never forget where Four took you from.” Ten smiled at him, almost innocently. “Why were you in the Nothing, Nikai? Did you look into your past
deeds while you were in the Archives? Or do you prefer to pretend that you were one of the good ones?”
A terrible darkness descended in Nikai, a shroud woven with every possible horrific deed he could have committed in his mortal life. This was the Tenth King’s power—he pulled your eyelids back, forced you to see the ugly truth that resided within.
“The Nothing traps you for eternity, neither dead nor alive, merely existing,” Ten said. “It is pain in all definitions of
the word, and it is forever. And now we are all in danger of falling into its abyss.” Disdain dripped from his voice as he
regarded Nikai. “Let me ask you, Reaper—do you wish to return to it?”
Nikai hung his head, whispering, “No.”
“Do you want your King back?”
“Yes.”
“Then let me make the deals I need to. Get out of my sight.” Ten turned back to the windows.
Nikai bowed and retreated from the room.
He ran down the hallway and ported through several doors as quickly as he could. Back in the Fourth Court and safe from the
eyes and ears of the Tenth, Nikai sat in silence at his desk, thinking about what Ten had said.
. . . let me make the deals I need to . . .
Who else was Ten making deals with? He must be hatching his own plans and excluding Nikai. But this was Nikai’s search too,
and he refused to be left out. He made a quick call to a trusted friend at a different department who owed him a favor.
“I need you to get me access to the logs of anyone leaving the underworld and returning from the human realm—and for both
our sakes, be discreet.”