Velli

I separate from Dream and push myself through the revolving door with considerable effort.

It’s pristine to the point of being near celestial. Tables, stove bases, chairs, and kitchen tools are all shiny metal that look like they would come alive and find insult at the mention of the word “dirt.” Random sparkles from the knives grab my eye better than stars in the sky do. The floor is this same level of clean. Our reflection is perfect in it. Dream death stares at me.

Admiration time is over. A baby’s cry comes from the back of the kitchen. We rush to it.

Greenish-brown soup bubbles and pops in a large, five-foot-deep trough at the back of the restaurant. The stench from it floats to us, and we stumble once it hits our noses. Baby Bailey—still alive—sinks in the trough on a thick piece of bread.

Maybe it’s because I’m so tired. Maybe it’s my shame for deceiving Dream. Maybe it’s the stench, but the whole thing makes me mad. How dare Dream be mad at me for trying to stop this? A little lie, a little framing here or there, and we save an already-traumatized baby.

Dream goes forward to help the baby. The stench knocks her back. She gags and hacks beside me.

“Yeah, I brought Isaz here. I tricked him into thinking Mogvaz was sleeping with his wife.” Emboldened with pride, I say each word as I practically beat my chest. “To stop this. What’s the problem?”

Hunched over, Dream gives me a half reply. “Velli…”

“No, I want to know.”

“Because you make things worse when you lie. Whatever you told him has consequences. It makes the world worse. That’s what lies do.”

“So what should I have done, then?”

“I don’t know, just not make things worse?” She stands straight now, mouth and nose covered as she tries to strategize how to save the kid without dealing with the toxic stench.

I embrace it and hold it in.

The baby sinks, its tiny toes stained in soup.

I walk past her and gather the child myself. The feel is worse than the smell. Strips of some substance stick to my skin and sink beneath my clothes. My nose fills with the odor, and the following breath of air is, once again, mercy to my lungs when I bring the child up from the slop like a trophy. I drip the nasty soup on the perfect floor. A tinge of guilt bites at me because I ruined such a perfect thing. It’s okay. Some things should get worse.

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“No, Dream. None of us can get away from this mess.” I hand the soup-covered Bailey to her. “We’re all going to get dirty. We should embrace it until we get what we need.”

“Wrong is always wrong.” Her voice shakes. She wipes the baby off with her clothes and says nice things to it, but for the baby’s part, it doesn’t seem at all bothered. “And what about Isaz’s wife…? Do you know what he’ll do to her? Did you think about that?”

“She married someone like Isaz, and you want me to feel sorry for her? She understood what her husband was…”

“Relationships get complicated, Velli.” She goes back to soothing the baby.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here.” I hold the door out of the kitchen for her.

She glares at Mogvaz, who strains to raise his head.

“You got your kid.” He takes two big, desperate breaths. “Any chance you can let me out? You know, I’ve got a wife, too, and I never did anything to her, but she’s going to die thinking I ain’t love her.” He pauses to suck up oxygen he doesn’t deserve. “That I cheated on her!” he yells. “Because that spazz Isaz will kill her in retaliation. How fair is that to her?”

I would have spit on Mogvaz if Dream weren’t here. How pathetic, to live his life like an animal then beg for humanity at the very end. Dream ignores him and focuses on keeping the baby happy.

“Dream, can you call a teleporter on your own?” I ask.

“On my own?” She twists toward me, eyes filled with amber daggers ready to fire.

Baby Bailey cries.

“I’m not leaving yet.”

“Excuse me?”

This is it. This is her breaking point with me. It’s in her eyes, tired of the lies and mystery.

She soothes the baby and rubs its bald head, a simple coping technique. She’s trying to put all her anger into something constructive. “What in Rain could you possibly need to do here?”

I don’t answer for a couple of seconds. I’m always being judged. I despise being judged, especially by her. She wouldn’t get it. Her sister is Rose. Her future is set. I decide on an answer.

“I need to stay for a minute,” I say, as resolute as a dam.

“Great, a minute, well, we can wait a minute.”

“It’ll be longer than a minute.”

She looks at me like I’m gross, like something’s irredeemably wrong with me, or maybe that’s in my head, but it’s how I feel.

“What…?” Dream drags out her words. “What, what could you want here?”

“Something someone like you wouldn’t get, princess.”

“That’s not fair! I am trying my best. I gave up everything I have to do this.”

“Well, sorry. I don’t feel like rewarding your oh-so-gracious kindness, my lady. Because despite your help, all of our friends are dead!”

It’s a standoff.

She blinks first. Tears have that effect. Her eyes close again to fight the tiny tears that form on the very edges of them. She blinks and blinks and blinks and blinks with pursed lips. Dream whispers, “Okay, Velli. Sorry.” She turns to leave.

Fate makes an illusion as Dream exits. I wish I had stayed in the ice.

He displays all of our dead-and-gone friends following her with somber faces. Kid, Mark, Shells, Samuel, Nerves, Raphia, Major, and Amelia—whose body isn’t even buried yet—walk behind Dream and out of my life with heads down, faces frowning, and shuffling feet. Everyone we started doing volunteer vigilantism with. One by one, dead or living lives where they wished they were dead. Never two at a time. One by one. A slow, horrible, real-life slasher. And now it’s just Dream and me. I wish I had stayed in the ice.

I wait for the door to swing shut behind her before I finally wipe my eyes free of tears. Fate might be right about everything he says about me.

Congrats, Velli! You won the standoff.