Nobody
Page 4
Or any emotion, really, other than a vague discomfort.
“Oh, it’s you.” Ione turned to look at the area just over Nix’s shoulder. She probably thought she was looking at him, but she was wrong. “You’re not to leave your quarters on your own.”
Nix shrugged. He knew every inch of this building, knew it better than they did. What were they going to do? To punish something, you had to see it. You had to care about it. You had to catch it.
The Society had other uses for him.
“My target?” Nix asked, nodding toward the folder and taking it as a foregone conclusion that he’d be the one assigned to the case. Normals like Ione—the kind who could give and take energy, affect other people and be affected by them, love and be loved—didn’t stand a chance against this kind of psychopath, and a Sensor wouldn’t fare any better.
To take down a Null, you needed a Nobody. And Nix was one of a kind.
Without another word, Ione passed him the file. With that single motion, the thing she’d ordered was as good as done.
The Null—whoever she was—was as good as dead.
I wonder what Ione and Richard see when they look at me, Nix thought. Not the tattoos, one line for each of his kills. Not the scars, the ones he’d given himself. Not danger. Not Nix.
He could have pulled a knife on them, and still, their adrenaline levels would have stayed exactly the same.
Nix dropped his eyes from their faces, and his fingers tightened around the file. So what if he was as good as invisible, even to the only people in the world who had genuine motivations to see him? That was exactly what made Nix so incredibly proficient at his job.
Nobodies were born assassins.
3
Claire’s resolve to have fun and be sweet was wavering. It had been two days since her encounter with the old man at the pool, and she’d dutifully returned each day, sunbathing and reading and thinking her way through every variation of at least five different Situations. No one had spoken to her. No one had stared intently at a point just over her left shoulder. Her tan was progressing nicely.
And yet …
Claire was already counting down the days until school started, even though the logical half of her brain knew that three days into the school year, she’d probably start counting down the days until summer. It was, quite frankly, depressing—no, not depressing, she’d already had her two minutes of wallowing this summer, so it couldn’t be depressing—but it was certainly less than ideal.
With a light sigh, Claire slipped off her nightgown and began to put on her bathing suit. For lack of a better plan, she was going to stick with routine and she was going to be happy about it if it killed her. She slid into her bikini top, adjusting the straps on her shoulders. In a show of daring, she’d chosen white today instead of blue, but the clasp on her white suit was bent out of shape, and her fingers felt as thick as sausages as she reached back and clumsily tried to coerce the two straps together.
I will not be undone by a bikini.
The second the thought formed in her mind, it was replaced by an overwhelming sensation of pinpricks on the back of her neck. She froze, her fingers holding tight to the clasps of her suit, and the chills intensified, each individual pinprick sprouting legs and crawling like a spider down her spine.
Someone is looking at me.
Claire didn’t move. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t finish clasping her suit. She just stood there, motionless, holding the top in place, very aware of the fact that she was alone in the house. That she was always alone in the house. That no one would notice if something bad happened to her.
That no one would know if she disappeared.
Claire felt goose bumps rising on her arms, like there was something inside her body fighting to get out. Slowly, she turned, her long brown hair brushing her shoulder as she did.
It feels like feathers on my shoulder. It feels like someone is about to grab me, but there’s no one here.
She stopped breathing.
It feels like there’s someone outside.
Claire forced herself to breathe. She crossed the room, raised her hand to the curtain beside her bookshelf. She closed her eyes.
I can do this.
She stood there, the curtain pulled, the morning light shining down onto her face for several seconds as she worked up the strength to open her eyes.
You are the dumbest person who has ever existed, she told herself. Have I not taken you to eight million horror movies in the last five years? Stand there, with your bathing suit top unclasped in the back and your eyes closed, because you think someone is spying on you. Fabulous idea. Really. As your encore, are you going to run into a dark alley?
And yet, she couldn’t open her eyes. The chills turned to something hot and sharp on her skin, each one shattering like glass and crackling along the surface of her body. She could feel her hands shaking. She could feel someone staring at her, a phantom gaze carving its mark into her flesh. She could almost imagine a face on the other side of the window, but she couldn’t open her eyes.
She just couldn’t.
His mark was, without question, the dumbest creature on the face of the earth. Like a deer caught in headlights, she stood there, frozen to the ground, the perfect target. He could see her heart beating beneath her caramel-colored skin, her entire torso jumping with each erratic pulse, as if it wanted him to know exactly where to put the bullet.
Nix wasn’t normally one for leaving entry or exit wounds. He was a silent killer—poisons, asphyxiation, air bubbles straight to the heart. But for whatever reason, The Society had classified this girl Code Omega, a designation given to the most dangerous, most disgusting, most putrid Nulls.
Omega meant do not engage.
Omega meant kill from a distance.
More often than not, Omega meant making it bloody.
This in mind, Nix studied his prey dispassionately, wondering what twist of fate had brought her to the window. Did she sense the danger? Had she killed enough on her own to recognize the taste of death in the air? Did she know that after today, she’d never kill again?
The gun in Nix’s hands was heavy and cold. His finger slipped easily over the trigger—too easily, and he checked the silencer. It was an unnecessary precaution, but one he took nonetheless. He’d been watching her—this girl in the window—for too long. He’d allowed himself to become distracted by the shadow of her body.
I’ve never killed someone my age before. Not a girl.
It didn’t matter. If this Null was Code Omega, she was a plague, and he was the only cure. Nulls were manipulative. They played with the emotions and hopes and dreams of others, without ever feeling any empathy or real emotions of their own. They were empty shells that mocked what it meant to be human. They were incapable of thinking of anyone or anything else, and sooner or later, they always killed.
Less than shadow. Less than air.
Nix held tight to the cover of his own invisibility. He couldn’t think about this girl as a girl, and he couldn’t think about her as a monster. He couldn’t afford to think about anything, couldn’t allow himself the luxury of personhood if he didn’t want to get caught.
He needed to stay in the fade.
The world might never know how dangerous this girl was, but once the deed was done, they’d know that she was murdered. They’d wonder who would do such a horrible thing. They would never know why it had to be done.
They would never thank him.
You are nothing. You are nobody. You will never matter to anyone, and the only way you can make a difference in this world is to kill.
A woman pranced past him, walking three dogs on two leashes. The third dog ran unleashed, and it was the one that paused, for an instant, in front of him. And then it shook its head, sneezed, and ran on. Nix lifted his arm. He aimed his gun just under the edge of his mark’s white bathing suit, which lay lightly on her skin, held on by a hand behind her back.
He saw the suit as it would be—coated in blood.
Nix moved to squeeze, picturing the bullet entering her chest, the heart underneath her sun-kissed skin stilling.
The trigger pressed back against his finger.
Do it.
And then she opened her eyes. And instead of staring past him or around him or through him, Nix’s target stared directly at him. She saw him. And she screamed.
“Oh, it’s you.” Ione turned to look at the area just over Nix’s shoulder. She probably thought she was looking at him, but she was wrong. “You’re not to leave your quarters on your own.”
Nix shrugged. He knew every inch of this building, knew it better than they did. What were they going to do? To punish something, you had to see it. You had to care about it. You had to catch it.
The Society had other uses for him.
“My target?” Nix asked, nodding toward the folder and taking it as a foregone conclusion that he’d be the one assigned to the case. Normals like Ione—the kind who could give and take energy, affect other people and be affected by them, love and be loved—didn’t stand a chance against this kind of psychopath, and a Sensor wouldn’t fare any better.
To take down a Null, you needed a Nobody. And Nix was one of a kind.
Without another word, Ione passed him the file. With that single motion, the thing she’d ordered was as good as done.
The Null—whoever she was—was as good as dead.
I wonder what Ione and Richard see when they look at me, Nix thought. Not the tattoos, one line for each of his kills. Not the scars, the ones he’d given himself. Not danger. Not Nix.
He could have pulled a knife on them, and still, their adrenaline levels would have stayed exactly the same.
Nix dropped his eyes from their faces, and his fingers tightened around the file. So what if he was as good as invisible, even to the only people in the world who had genuine motivations to see him? That was exactly what made Nix so incredibly proficient at his job.
Nobodies were born assassins.
3
Claire’s resolve to have fun and be sweet was wavering. It had been two days since her encounter with the old man at the pool, and she’d dutifully returned each day, sunbathing and reading and thinking her way through every variation of at least five different Situations. No one had spoken to her. No one had stared intently at a point just over her left shoulder. Her tan was progressing nicely.
And yet …
Claire was already counting down the days until school started, even though the logical half of her brain knew that three days into the school year, she’d probably start counting down the days until summer. It was, quite frankly, depressing—no, not depressing, she’d already had her two minutes of wallowing this summer, so it couldn’t be depressing—but it was certainly less than ideal.
With a light sigh, Claire slipped off her nightgown and began to put on her bathing suit. For lack of a better plan, she was going to stick with routine and she was going to be happy about it if it killed her. She slid into her bikini top, adjusting the straps on her shoulders. In a show of daring, she’d chosen white today instead of blue, but the clasp on her white suit was bent out of shape, and her fingers felt as thick as sausages as she reached back and clumsily tried to coerce the two straps together.
I will not be undone by a bikini.
The second the thought formed in her mind, it was replaced by an overwhelming sensation of pinpricks on the back of her neck. She froze, her fingers holding tight to the clasps of her suit, and the chills intensified, each individual pinprick sprouting legs and crawling like a spider down her spine.
Someone is looking at me.
Claire didn’t move. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t finish clasping her suit. She just stood there, motionless, holding the top in place, very aware of the fact that she was alone in the house. That she was always alone in the house. That no one would notice if something bad happened to her.
That no one would know if she disappeared.
Claire felt goose bumps rising on her arms, like there was something inside her body fighting to get out. Slowly, she turned, her long brown hair brushing her shoulder as she did.
It feels like feathers on my shoulder. It feels like someone is about to grab me, but there’s no one here.
She stopped breathing.
It feels like there’s someone outside.
Claire forced herself to breathe. She crossed the room, raised her hand to the curtain beside her bookshelf. She closed her eyes.
I can do this.
She stood there, the curtain pulled, the morning light shining down onto her face for several seconds as she worked up the strength to open her eyes.
You are the dumbest person who has ever existed, she told herself. Have I not taken you to eight million horror movies in the last five years? Stand there, with your bathing suit top unclasped in the back and your eyes closed, because you think someone is spying on you. Fabulous idea. Really. As your encore, are you going to run into a dark alley?
And yet, she couldn’t open her eyes. The chills turned to something hot and sharp on her skin, each one shattering like glass and crackling along the surface of her body. She could feel her hands shaking. She could feel someone staring at her, a phantom gaze carving its mark into her flesh. She could almost imagine a face on the other side of the window, but she couldn’t open her eyes.
She just couldn’t.
His mark was, without question, the dumbest creature on the face of the earth. Like a deer caught in headlights, she stood there, frozen to the ground, the perfect target. He could see her heart beating beneath her caramel-colored skin, her entire torso jumping with each erratic pulse, as if it wanted him to know exactly where to put the bullet.
Nix wasn’t normally one for leaving entry or exit wounds. He was a silent killer—poisons, asphyxiation, air bubbles straight to the heart. But for whatever reason, The Society had classified this girl Code Omega, a designation given to the most dangerous, most disgusting, most putrid Nulls.
Omega meant do not engage.
Omega meant kill from a distance.
More often than not, Omega meant making it bloody.
This in mind, Nix studied his prey dispassionately, wondering what twist of fate had brought her to the window. Did she sense the danger? Had she killed enough on her own to recognize the taste of death in the air? Did she know that after today, she’d never kill again?
The gun in Nix’s hands was heavy and cold. His finger slipped easily over the trigger—too easily, and he checked the silencer. It was an unnecessary precaution, but one he took nonetheless. He’d been watching her—this girl in the window—for too long. He’d allowed himself to become distracted by the shadow of her body.
I’ve never killed someone my age before. Not a girl.
It didn’t matter. If this Null was Code Omega, she was a plague, and he was the only cure. Nulls were manipulative. They played with the emotions and hopes and dreams of others, without ever feeling any empathy or real emotions of their own. They were empty shells that mocked what it meant to be human. They were incapable of thinking of anyone or anything else, and sooner or later, they always killed.
Less than shadow. Less than air.
Nix held tight to the cover of his own invisibility. He couldn’t think about this girl as a girl, and he couldn’t think about her as a monster. He couldn’t afford to think about anything, couldn’t allow himself the luxury of personhood if he didn’t want to get caught.
He needed to stay in the fade.
The world might never know how dangerous this girl was, but once the deed was done, they’d know that she was murdered. They’d wonder who would do such a horrible thing. They would never know why it had to be done.
They would never thank him.
You are nothing. You are nobody. You will never matter to anyone, and the only way you can make a difference in this world is to kill.
A woman pranced past him, walking three dogs on two leashes. The third dog ran unleashed, and it was the one that paused, for an instant, in front of him. And then it shook its head, sneezed, and ran on. Nix lifted his arm. He aimed his gun just under the edge of his mark’s white bathing suit, which lay lightly on her skin, held on by a hand behind her back.
He saw the suit as it would be—coated in blood.
Nix moved to squeeze, picturing the bullet entering her chest, the heart underneath her sun-kissed skin stilling.
The trigger pressed back against his finger.
Do it.
And then she opened her eyes. And instead of staring past him or around him or through him, Nix’s target stared directly at him. She saw him. And she screamed.
