The Edge of Everything (The Edge of Everything #1)(31)

“And I am Many Teeth, the usurper!” Jonah shouted back.

The exchange cracked both of them up, and they ran to hug each other.

Watching, X was hit by a wave of jealousy—he hadn’t realized how attached he’d become to the little boy.

Zoe’s mother, meanwhile, looked alarmed.

“Perhaps all is not lost,” X told Zoe quietly. “I have spent years listening to Banger in his cell, and he died not so long ago. I believe I can do a tolerable imitation of him.”

“Then start now,” said Zoe.

Rufus came toward them. He was flushed with happiness. He extended his hand to X in greeting. Rufus was maybe five years younger than Zoe’s mom. He had a friendly, open face, an unruly, reddish-brown beard, and dark hair that clumped together in a strange way. He caught X staring at it, and smiled such a wide, unself-conscious smile that X’s jealousy turned a deeper shade.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about dreads,” Rufus said. “But I’m only thinking about them, so don’t judge me. Your hair’s pretty epic, too, bro. What’s your name? I’m Rufus.”

X took his hand.

Zoe and her mother stared at him, waiting. He had never even spoken his name aloud.

“’Sup, dude?” he said. “I’m X.”





seven


That night, after Zoe was safely launched into her dreams, X padded around the quiet house. He had lived such a barren life that the rush of faces and voices and attachments had unnerved him. He could not sleep. The lords would be strategizing even now about how best to punish him. He knew he should return to the Lowlands before they struck. And yet Zoe had all but silenced the Trembling. She had all but silenced everything. She had filled everything. When she had hugged him for just that instant on the lake…

If he could just have one more day with her.

He remembered Zoe’s mother saying that Zoe had gotten too close to him. Zoe hadn’t denied it. Could it be true that she thought of him as more than an object of pity? He couldn’t stop wondering. The thought was like a train on a circular track.

X gazed out the living room window. The moon was high and nearly full. The ice on the river was shining with its borrowed light, and looked lovely in the darkness. X was reminded of his own filthiness.

He went outside and descended the hill under a vast and humbling sky full of stars. His own world had no equivalent. In truth, it had nothing that one would willingly gaze at.

When he reached the river, he knelt at its edge. The surface was decorated with cloudy whorls, and pocked here and there with stones and reeds that had been trapped in the ice.

He removed his shirt and pants and laid them on the ground beside him. His body was a map of bruises from grappling with Stan. He wondered how far his prey had gotten by now. Had he fled as far as he could without looking back? Had he crept into some innocent family’s home? Was he still nearby, shivering among the trees? Thanks to Zoe, very little of Stan remained in X’s veins. The man could be anywhere.

X leaned forward and pushed against the ice, testing it. He clenched his left hand and raised it. He was about to bring it down on the ice when he felt himself being watched. It was as if someone’s fingertips were grazing his neck.

He reached for his shirt, now dusted with snow, and wrapped it around his waist. He turned to the house, and ran his eyes along the windows. There was no one there.

He turned back to the river, knelt once more, and punched at the ice. It shattered instantly, cracks racing in every direction. He cast his shirt aside.

The water glimmered darkly, like oil.

He stepped into it.

The river closed over him as he sank to the bottom, his hair floating above him in tendrils. It was like traveling through the earth to the Lowlands—a slow, blurry drift that existed outside of time. When he reached the bottom, he drew his knees to his chest and wrapped them with his arms. He hung suspended for two or three minutes—a new sort of sea creature—then burst up to the surface.

Zoe was there.

“Are you insane?” she said.

X looked nervously for his clothes.

“Relax,” she said. “I can’t see anything.”

Even so, X pulled his shoulders under the water.

She laughed at his shyness.

“Oh my god, here,” she said.

She thrust his pants at him. He pulled them under the water and put them on, feeling ridiculous.

“Why do you inquire after my sanity?” he asked her.

“Because it is freezing cold out, dork,” she said.

“No harm will come to me,” said X. “I have warmed the water.”

Zoe took off a glove and dipped her hand in the river. Surprised, X floated backward until he could feel the edge of the ice behind him. When Zoe’s hand touched the water, her eyes registered surprise.

“I told you true, did I not?” said X.

“You told me true,” said Zoe.

She sat down in the snow, and stared off at the dark ridge. The air was still. The only sound was the lapping of the water as X floated, his tattooed arms working effortlessly in the water.

“Your query about my age,” he said. “Was it the only question you asked the bowl, or are there others still awaiting me?”

“I only asked two,” said Zoe. “The other one was stupid.”