And she’s taking risks today.
Adamek stretches his arms above his head, yawning and revealing the Medi tattoo on his forearm. Nazirah tries to get a better look, ignoring his state of undress.
The tattoo’s different from that day in the library. It looks textbook perfect.
Adamek walks straight through her towards his closet, sending cold shivers through her body. Nazirah whirls around as Adamek searches for an appropriate shirt, seeing his dusza for the first time. She stares open-mouthed. The tattoo covers the entire left side of his back. Thousands of tiny black characters, in an ancient text Nazirah cannot read, scroll in vertical columns from shoulder to spine. She walks forward, wanting to see it up close, but is startled by the sound of soft knocking at Adamek’s door.
Adamek swiftly slips on a white shirt. He opens the door to reveal Victoria holding two silk ties, clearly a peace offering. Victoria walks in, gingerly closing the door behind her. “I thought you might need these,” she says, holding up both solid black and sequined options. Adamek eventually nods at the solid one and allows Victoria to slip it around his neck. She smiles slightly. “You never were one to follow the latest trends.”
“Thank you,” he says.
Adamek clearly cares for his mother. Nazirah doesn’t know why she finds this unnerving. She’s never thought about him as a son before, but she guesses it is yet another part he plays. Victoria tentatively touches Adamek’s cheek. There’s a tension and formality between the two of them that Nazirah never experienced with Riva or Kasimir, even when they fought. Nazirah is quickly realizing that there are many unspoken words between the Morgens.
Victoria’s attention drifts to the mural behind Adamek. “I don’t understand why you’re obsessed with that monstrosity,” she says.
Adamek stiffens. “I was drawn to it,” he replies, “when I traveled abroad to see the lost ruins.”
Nazirah is bewildered. Adamek traveled outside of Renatus? He saw the remnants of the Final War, scattering the world’s population around their sole surviving country? No one, Medi or otherwise, is permitted to leave Renatus. Ever.
Victoria lightly touches the mural. “Yes,” she says. “And it cost us a minor fortune to excavate, transport, and restore for you. And even then we couldn’t fit most of it in here.” She shakes her head. “It’s such a ghastly piece, Damek. Why not let me cover it? I’ll commission the best artist in all of Renatus to paint something worthy of you.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Adamek snaps. “Why are you bringing this up again?”
“Damek,” she says slowly, “this morbid obsession you have with death is not natural.”
Wait, what? Aren’t they talking about a painting? When did they start talking about death? Nazirah searches the fresco more carefully. It’s filled with figures climbing onto clouds, all focused around a man with a raised right arm and a lady in blue. She still doesn’t get it. Adamek looks down at his bare hands, clenches them. “Easy to say for someone who never gets their hands dirty,” he says quietly.
“Damek, please,” Victoria pleads. “I’m not here to argue with you. It isn’t productive for us, and it’s not good for my health. But you’ve changed so much these past few years. You’re almost unrecognizable to me.”
“I’ve grown up,” he says. “That’s what happens.”
Fat teardrops streak Victoria’s lovely face. “It’s more than that!” she cries. “You never used to wear the cares you do now! I fear your father and I made a grievous mistake, sending you to the monkey so many years ago. You should have trained here instead, with the other Medis. But we wanted the best for you.”
“This has nothing to do with that,” he snaps. “I’ve gone against all of my teachings.”
“Damek,” Victoria implores, “you can still stop! You don’t have to keep doing this, if you don’t want to.”
His eyes narrow. “I have to do it,” he growls, “despite the fact that I don’t want to. I do it to keep Mediah safe. I do what’s right.”
“You do what Gabirel tells you to do! What’s easy!” she hisses. “Not what’s right!” Victoria grabs Adamek’s hands, her eyes wildly roaming the sea of scratches. “I never wanted this life for you, Damek,” she says, her voice a shadow of a whisper. “And I am afraid for you, afraid of what you’re becoming … afraid of what you may already be.”
Adamek wrenches his hands from her. “What you’re saying is blasphemy.”
“Damek …”
His voice is cold and bitter. “Please leave. I’ll be down in a moment. We wouldn’t want to keep your guests waiting.”
Victoria nods tersely, collecting herself. She walks to the door. “I guess it’s a nice painting,” she says finally. “In a primitive, pedestrian sort of way. Who painted it again?”
Adamek glances at the mural. “Someone named Michel, I think,” he says. “Michel of the angels. I found it in a collapsed church over the Eastern Sea. The souls on the left are rising into heaven while the souls on the right are descending into hell. And their god is in the center, judging them all.”
“Adamek,” Victoria whispers, “there can be a better way to live. We can be better.”
Adamek turns around, but she’s already gone.
Nazirah watches the carefully constructed mask of Adamek Morgen shatter into pieces. He bangs his fists on the wall, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against it.
Adamek stays like that for a long time, breathing hard, before walking to his desk and sitting down. He reaches into the bottom left-hand drawer, moving some books aside to reveal a hidden compartment. Pulling out another silver case, smaller than the one that holds the Iluxor, Adamek enters the same four digit code on this keypad and opens it. He retrieves a thin needle and a small bottle filled with black ink. Adamek meticulously wipes the needle, inhaling deeply. He opens the bottle, dipping the needle into it with such care it makes Nazirah sick. Nazirah wants to look away but she can’t. She knows exactly what he’s doing. Adamek told her once that Medis believe in nothing except power. But if Adamek believes in anything, it’s this.
Like it’s his religion, Adamek zealously takes the inky needle tip and pushes it into the back of his hand, skillfully etching a small black scratch. It bleeds only a little. Nazirah watches as he makes one more scratch on his hand before returning the items to the case. Two unremarkable scratches already lost in a dark ocean. But Nazirah knows they represent two innocent lives Adamek has taken this night.
Adamek pulls out a pistol from his jacket pocket. He places the gun inside the case as well, locks it, and returns it to the secret compartment. He clasps his hands together on the desk, as if in prayer. A tear mars his face. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Victoria,” he says sadly. “But I don’t know how else to live.”
Adamek rises from his desk, moving towards the door. Nazirah gets a strange feeling in her gut that tells her not to follow him just yet. She looks from Adamek to the drawer where the gun is safely hidden, a nagging suspicion creeping into her mind. Almost against her own will, Nazirah moves closer to Adamek’s desk and stands directly over it. She feels the pull of his memory, dragging her away. But she can’t leave yet, not until she knows for sure. She scans the contents of the desk, feels the nausea hit when she finds what she’s looking for. The date is April 4th, the day her parents died.
He’s just murdered them.
Nazirah’s chest constricts and her throat tightens. She wants to leave Adamek’s memory … now. But she’s either injected too much serum or the memory isn’t over, because she can’t leave. She’s at the mercy of Adamek’s mind.
Adamek’s memory flashes forward. Nazirah watches distantly as he returns to the party, laughing and joking with friends. Victoria and Gabirel dance together, smiling in each other’s arms. The music winds down like a broken accordion. The crowd peters out. The handlers return the animals to their cages. Adamek searches for his parents, unable to find them.
Nazirah unwillingly follows him back towards his room, tired and emotionally drained. To Nazirah’s surprise, Adamek passes it by. He turns down a new hallway and knocks on a door to his right. He enters a feminine room full of pinks and pastels. It’s clearly Victoria’s private chambers. Nazirah knows he’s here to apologize for his behavior. She’s annoyed at having to watch them reconcile, when he so easily just destroyed her entire family. But Victoria isn’t here.