1.15

Five days until the rally.

I woke up on a different couch than I'd gone to sleep on. Krieg's study was gone, and in its place I found myself in a warehouse. There were some spare crates around the floor, my couch, and a television, but the rest was mostly empty. A second-story catwalk ringed the floor leading to what I supposed was an office.

"We needed somewhere covert." Allfather said suddenly.

I jumped and nearly fell off the couch. He was sitting behind the couch on a rickety looking chair. I hadn't even noticed him.

"Geez, Allfather! I- geez." My heart didn't beat, but that didn't stop me from imagining that my heart was pounding with surprise. "Why here?"

"The Empire uses it as a backup. James said that they don't use it much, so you'll be staying here until the rally."

He stood, stretching, and I saw that he'd ditched his armor for a golf shirt and khakis. Probably Krieg's clothing. It was downright bizarre to see him without his armor on. I'd seen him unmasked before, but I just didn't associate the armored knight I'd spent days around with this middle-aged man who wouldn't look out of place at a PTA meeting.

"James' children don't know he's a cape, so we needed to clear out." Allfather continued. "I need to get going. James and I have a lot of planning to do. I've got to get caught up with the situation, and he's got to plan for running the Empire."

"Oh." I said. "What should I do?"

Allfather was already headed for the door. "Whatever you want."

"Could I-"

The door slammed behind him.

I slumped back onto the couch. He was still pissed off at me. Actually no. It was worse than that. I was getting the same impression from him that I'd gotten from Dad so many times.

Distance.

Allfather didn't want to be around me.

"Dammit." My voice echoed through the empty warehouse.

I ended up going to see Dad. I didn't really have anything better to do. The walk to the hospital took a while, but I had plenty of time to kill.

I spent Monday watching Dad. He just lay there; the only sound in the room the rhythmic hiss of his respirator. I dozed off after a while, but every time a nurse entered, I jolted awake because I thought Dad was waking up. I held off my disappointment as the nurses did their stuff; turning him over and checking his vitals. Every time I had the same stupid hope. "This time," I thought. "They'll see something different and they'll wake him up!"

But no. The nurses never did anything different. Nothing ever changed. On Tuesday, Runechild ended up dragging me out after a few hours. She couldn't understand. Dad's condition was my fault. If I'd handled my problems better, I'd still be alive, and he wouldn't have gotten hurt.

My fault.

I spent the rest of Tuesday in front of the tv. There wasn't anything I wanted to watch. I was just vegging. Visiting Dad had sapped all my energy. Allfather wasn't around. He and Krieg were off putting together their plans for everything, and I was left alone.

Even having Michael around didn't make me feel better. If he had a choice, he probably wouldn't want to be around me either. My power was sad. I was so lonely that my power forced people to be my friends.

That realization drained the last of my energy for the day.

And so it went.

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

Three days until the rally.

On Wednesday, as I was getting ready to go see Dad, Runechild's shard pulsed at me. I manifested her. She came into existence with her arms folded, scowling at me.

"Taylor, you don't need to keep doing this to yourself." She said.

"Doing what?"

"Torturing yourself. I asked Allfather and he said that you're feeling guilty because of your Dad, and that it's not your fault."

I stared at her. "You talked to Allfather?"

Runechild nodded. "Yesterday. I got worried after you spent twelve hours on the couch because I made you leave the hospital." She hesitated. "He was… not pure evil? Kind of a jerk though."

"Well Allfather is wrong." I said. "If I had been there, Dad would still be okay."

"If I had done better, Detective Wickman would still be alive!" She snapped. Spots of color rose in her pale cheeks, and she had her hands balled up in her cloak.

"Look, I know what you're feeling, Taylor. It's stupid and irrational, and I can tell you why you're wrong, but you won't ever believe me because guilt is just dumb that way. It's just like how nothing you could say would convince me that Wickman wasn't my fault. Because it was, and it was shitty and I messed up and- and-"

Runechild sniffed, and then burst into tears, her determined expression giving way to blubbering.

I froze. What the hell? She went from consolation to tears in about five seconds flat. What did I do? Did I give her a hug, or just let her cry herself out? What would I want someone to do if I was upset?

"Noriko?" I said tentatively. "What should I do?"

Runechild cried harder. "Th-that's just how Setsu would say it! Sh-she w-would be a big dork about it too and it always m-made me…" Her sobs turned into hiccups. When they finished, she spoke quietly. "She always made me laugh."

Okay. So I needed to make her laugh. That was… not likely. I wasn't a funny person. I never had been, and being dead had only soured my humor. What did Runechild even like? Mouse Protector? Costumed hero shows?

"I… what do you think is funny?" I said awkwardly.

Runechild looked at me through tear-stained eyes, hiccupped again, and then sniffled. "You are just as bad as Setsu! She was just as grumpy as you."

"I'm not grumpy." I said.

"Just like that!" Runechild said. The corners of her mouth twitched. "And when you and Allfather are together, you're both huge sourpusses!"

Who said 'sourpusses?' What year did she think it was?

…okay, that was a bad question. She was still outdated though.

"Uh... so, Setsu was your sister, right?" I needed to change the subject.

Runechild's expression fell instantly, and I thought she might start crying again. "She was. U-until-"

"Don't cry!" I shouted desperately. It seemed like everyone was always crying nowadays, myself included. "Why don't you… show me your… your powers?"

Fuck. I wanted to smack myself. Talking about powers wouldn't make her feel any better. Mine just made me upset. Even the fun stuff like coming back to life didn't take the edge off them.

But I was wrong. Runechild looked at me for a long moment before breaking into a broad smile. Good lord, I couldn't have been this bad at her age. She was only what- three years younger than me? I understood that she was handling grief in her own way, but she was a freaking emotional roller-coaster so far.

"Alright, Taylor. Powers time!" She leapt up, sweeping her cloak back with a dramatic wave. "I, Pretty Soldier Runechild, will demonstrate my mastery over time and space!"

She went through a series of poses and hand gestures, ending with her flinging something at me. It fluttered to land at my feet. A… notecard? She'd thrown a notecard at me. There was an odd, spiky symbol written on it in what looked like permanent marker. Like arrows spiraling into a single point.

"Dimensional Dive!"

There was a faint popping noise, and Runechild was in front of me. Like two inches in front of me. She'd crossed the distance between us instantly. So instantly that I hadn't seen her move. I stumbled backwards and fell.

"Sorry, Taylor." Runechild said. She helped me up, looking sheepish.

"That was something." I said. "You've got super speed?"

"Teleportation." She said. "I draw this rune," She held up another notecard, this one with the same spiraling arrows on it. "And I can teleport to it. I've got a whole deck of notecards like this, and when I was trying to be a hero, I drew my runes everywhere I went."

Runechild paused and looked off into space. "Huh… Nope. I can't feel any of them anymore. I guess people just took them down after a while, or the effect wore off."

"That's a pretty awesome power." I said.

"It's not that great," She said, blushing. "Not as cool as bringing people back to life. I mean, I'd still be dead if y-you hadn't-"

Her voice hitched, and I knew she was about to start crying again.

"So what's with all the chanting and posing?" I said hastily.

I could tell that she knew I was changing the subject, but she smiled at me anyway.

"It takes me a few seconds to locate my runes, so I cover it up with posing and stuff. Also," Runechild posed dramatically for effect. "It looks awesome! I start slow, but once I get them mapped in my head, I can move a lot faster."

She started fumbling through the pockets on her small utility belt. "Lemme just… look…" After a few unsuccessful searches, she pulled her cloak off and handed it to me. "Hold that. I can't reach these back ones… and there!"

Runechild held up a thick stack of her rune cards. With a flourish, she fanned them out and then tossed them into the air. Cards flurried around us like paper snow.

"I'm not helping you pick those up." I said.

"Just watch."

She held her pose for almost a minute; eyes screwed up with concentration. And then she moved.

There were dozens of rune cards around us, and she blinked between them almost too fast to see. I'd see a flash of white in the corner of my eye, but by the time I looked, she was gone, already moved on to another card. The muted 'pop' of her teleportation was so rapid that it sounded like someone making popcorn.

Suddenly, she blurred to a stop, panting. "Done."

"Holy shit." I whispered.

Runechild took a bow.

Afterwards, as I helped her pick up the notecards, I couldn't help smiling at her.

"Weren't you supposed to cheer me up? It ended up being all about you." I said.

"It worked, didn't it?"

"Cocky brat."

Her grin was contagious. "Sourpuss."

It wasn't until I unsummoned her that I realized she'd left something behind. Her cloak still hung from the back of a chair.

Two days until the rally

Thursday dawned bright and sunny. I woke up with Runechild's cape draped over me like a blanket. It was a little small for me, but surprisingly warm. The bloodstains were off-putting, and I didn't really need a blanket to begin with, but it made me feel safe. I could see why she always wrapped herself up in it.

I summoned her to return it. Only… I tried to. Runechild didn't come. I looked inward, and her shard was cracked; damaged like she'd been hurt. I poured my energy into it, mending the damage. It felt like she'd lost a limb, from the amount it cost me to repair her.

"Are you okay?" I shouted when she finally appeared.

"Yeah. What's wrong?"

"You got hurt somehow. Did something happen while I was asleep?" I was grasping at straws. Could something hurt her even as a shard?

Runechild blanched, pulling her cloak around her defensively. "I- I don't think so."

I stared. Runechild was wearing her cloak. The same cloak that I had in my hand.

"Let me see that." She pulled off her cloak and I compared the two. Identical down to the last blood spatter. Like photocopied Rorschachs.

"Taylor?" Runechild said nervously. "Is something wrong?"

I unsummoned her. And… didn't resummon her. Her shard was damaged again. In my hand, I held two copies of her cloak. The cost to regenerate her again left me dizzy, swaying on the couch. When I called her again, she had her cloak on.

So… My power had my ghosts a certain way, and if they deviated, it cost me to repair them? Losing an arm was considered the same thing as losing a cloak. But if I could afford to pay that cost…

My eye twitched.

The possibilities.

James came home to find two people sitting in his study. Richard was going through paperwork, making terse conversation with the… other. Who the hell was that?

"Taylor?" He said hesitantly.

The second turned toward him. His first thought was something about the Invisible Man. His second, more worrying thought, was about the Red Death.

A third figure flickered into existence; a spectral man, his eyes lit with green balefire.

"Hi James." His voice held an eerie undertone, like two voices spoke from the same mouth. The second voice was female, almost too quiet to hear.

Good Christ. Everything about the girl's power was terrifying. He was made of sterner stuff than most men, and she still sent shivers down his spine. It was an almost primal fear.

"I figured out how to make a costume." Michael's shade said.

Taylor stood and held out her arms, posing for him. Wrapped around her like a dress were long lengths of white cloth, all liberally stained with blood. Impossibly stained with blood. He knew from long experience that blood dried to an ugly brown, but this was bright, arterial red, like it had just spilled from the vein moments before.

Ripped cloth was twined around her arms like bandages. There was nothing in between the gaps in the cloth. It was given form by something unseen. There was just enough cloth used to give shape, but enough was missing to make him uneasy. The strips of cloth that formed her mask only covered her mouth and nose, leaving only disturbingly empty space for the rest of her head.

"What do you think?" Her enthusiasm sounded out of place in Michael's unearthly voice. "I can touch things now!"

Taylor waved a cloth-wrapped hand. All her fingers were tightly bound in fabric. She could touch things now? Using the cloth as a medium, maybe?

James remained silent for a long moment, trying to think of something to say. Something that didn't involve Stephen King's Carrie. Or any number of horror stories about bloodstained brides.

Richard, bless his soul, filled the silence admirably.

"I told her it scared the shit out of me."

James nodded. Richard had always had a way with words.

One day until the rally.

Runechild made the week bearable. She was perky enough to keep me from getting depressed, but also emotionally damaged enough that she took up a lot of my attention. It was an odd combination, but it worked, somehow. Helping her helped me stay distracted, and she slowly got more in control as she adjusted to being dead.

I tried not to bring up certain topics though. Being dead was one. Her sister was another. Detective Wickman was the third. Mentioning them or anything related to them would send her into an instant spiral of guilt and depression.

Friday afternoon found us sitting on the catwalk in the warehouse. Runechild was dangling her legs through the railing, drinking a pop. I didn't see the point. She couldn't taste it.

"So… I've got nothing to do. You wanna go fight crime?" I said.

"Kick. Ass." Runechild said. "Where do we start?"

I had to think about that. "Well, Brockton Bay is kind of a shithole."

"Still?"

"Yup. So there's lot of places to start. There's the Empire, but… I don't want to fight them in case Krieg takes over, because then it makes things harder for me."

Runechild raised an eyebrow. "Why would you fight the Empire? Aren't you a Nazi?"

My jaw might have hit the floor. "What?"

"Yeah." Runechild sounded confused. "You hang out with Nazis, and you're planning to help Allfather take over the Empire. I just figured. I mean, you're nicer to me than Allfather, so you're probably not a very good Nazi, but still."

"I'm not a Nazi." I said firmly. "The thing with the Empire is just because of my contract with Allfather. If you'd contracted to take over the ABB, I'd probably help you with that in the same way."

She shivered. "Let's stay away from them."

I didn't press the issue. We both lapsed into thoughtful silence.

It seemed like my ruse to masquerade as an Empire cape had been successful enough to convince an impressionable twelve-year old girl. That whole thing was… did I even need it? Was associating with the Empire to protect Dad worth the effort?

My contract with Michael had opened a lot of new doors for me. Enough that I felt confident in being able to walk away from the Empire before things got serious. Allfather was definitely the deal-breaker though. If Allfather wasn't going to be in charge, I had some serious misgivings. I didn't know who Krieg was or what he was like. I couldn't count on him to honor the same things that Allfather would, and I didn't trust him in the same way.

It was sounding more and more promising to just strike out on my own and gather ghosts solo. I'd always wanted to be a hero, but more than that now, I wanted to live. It eclipsed any other goals I had. Now that I had a chance to come back, I was going to claw my way back to life. Getting entangled with the Empire would just impair that.

The warehouse door swung open and Allfather strode in. He was wearing civilian clothes again. Speak of the devil…

"Say hi to the fuhrer for me, fraulein." Runechild said with a smirk. She skipped off down the catwalk. I let my solidity go, phasing through the catwalk to the floor below.

"Hey." I said. Seeing Allfather was awkward. I knew he didn't want to see me, but now that I saw him, I realized that I missed talking to him.

"Taylor. Are you ready for the rally tomorrow?" He said. "You've got that costume, but have you gone over the speech we prepared?"

"Yeah. I practiced a bunch earlier. Noriko helped me."

"I see. The entire city is going to watch. If you don't feel comfortable, I can speak instead."

What he was saying should have been comforting; offering to take a burden off me. But the way he said it was so cold and formal that it just made me uneasy.

"I can do it. I wouldn't miss this one for the world."

"See that you don't." Allfather said. He was already turning to leave.

I dithered there, trying to think of something to say, something to mend the distance that had formed between us. My failings had driven Dad and me apart, and now it was happening again.

"I'm looking forward to completing our contract!" I shouted.

Okay, so maybe I was pretty pissed off at him too. He'd ditched me in a warehouse for a week because he was too upset to deal with me.

Allfather froze, one hand reaching for the door.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me."

He turned on his heel and in an instant, towered over me; his stare as cold and hard as ice.

"Taylor, think carefully about what you're going to-"

"I'm not joining the Empire either." I met his eye without flinching. Allfather opened his mouth and I cut him off again. Time to go all in.

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

"I haven't been."

"Don't lie to me Allfather. I thought we were on better terms than that."

A red flush was rising in his face. Was it embarrassment, or just simple anger?

"Taylor, I wouldn't lie- I just…" Allfather dropped his gaze. "I need to go."

"No!" I caught his wrist. If he wanted to walk away, I couldn't stop him, but I held on anyway.

"You don't get to go until you explain why you've been so weird! I've had it with all that! I got enough at home. I've done it enough to know how much it hurts."

Allfather stayed where he was, still not meeting my gaze.

"Let go of me."

"No. Tell me. What are you so scared of?"

He stiffened suddenly, and I realized what I'd just said.

What did he have to be afraid of? He had nothing left to lose. He was already… he was already dead. I stepped closer and put a hand on his other wrist.

"Are you afraid of dying?"

"No." He said it with conviction, but took a step back at the same time.

"Everyone's afraid of dying." I stared at him. "Is this… is this your way of coping?"

"No." Another step back. I followed, still holding onto him.

I said the words that I would have wanted to hear.

"It's okay. You're going to be okay."

"How? How, Taylor? How am I possibly going to be alright?" His voice rose. "My life came to nothing! My family is dead, my life's work failed, and my second chance was a sham!"

"You still got a second chance." I said.

"So what?" He sneered.

"So everything. That's more than anyone else gets."

"And then what, Taylor? I'm supposed to just be happy to die again?"

His back hit the wall. I moved forward until we were almost touching.

"That's my fault." I said. "If I knew what my powers did, I wouldn't have given you false hope. But… you still have that second chance. What are you going to do with the time you have left?"

"Taylor, stop."

"You've got a shot to make things right."

I did too, I realized. This was my do-over. My chance to fix my shitty life and start over.

"I was thinking, Allfather. What is my role in this situation? Where do my powers leave me?" I jabbed a finger into his chest. "Helping you. My job is to help you finish what you need to finish."

"And then I die?" He said acidly.

"And then you die happy. Would you rather go out like you did- dying in some alley to an ambush?

Allfather pulled away from me and stormed toward the door. I shouted after him.

"Or do you want to go out like I know you want to? Victorious. The Empire saved. Your best friend in charge. Your daughter avenged."

He froze once more, his hand on the doorknob.

"What did you wish for, Allfather?"

The door slammed behind him.

There was a pop, and Runechild appeared behind me, drinking another soda.

"Are you sure you're not a Nazi?" She said. "That looked a lot like you convincing him to do Nazi stuff."

Through our link, I could feel Allfather getting further away from me.

Saying it aloud to him had crystallized something for me. I wanted to help my ghosts. Not just help them because I needed to, but because I wanted to. That was my role.

My powers weren't just for me alone. In the same way that I'd wanted to be a hero to the living, I could be a hero to the dead.

I smiled at Runechild. "Not a chance."

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

Hooo... boy...

This is where things really start breaking down in terms of plotline. I knew where I was going, but not how to get there, and all these middle chapters are me getting lost along the way.

This is noticeably where I started making efforts to crystallize Taylor's motivation and goals, but I still never grasped her personality, and really never did until I started writing Yearning. The end result is a confusing, muddle character, who comes off less interesting than her ghosts, and really gets dragged along by the plot.

It's my firm belief that writers should know where they're going and how to get there, so as to adjust the pacing and story appropriately. I didn't know that yet when I was writing Speak, and it really shows.