“She said we didn’t want to accidentally summon a Cardinal God.”
I snort. “The gods are gone. They’re not coming back.”
She pauses before the final stitch to look at me. “You don’t think so?”
“Why would they? We’re all insufferable.”
She turns back to the wound and closes it up with one more run of thread. “I don’t believe that. They’ll come back someday.”
“Not if the wizard has anything to say about it.”
“What do you mean?” She ties off the thread.
“Nothing. Just that… his ego is bigger than the Emerald City. He wouldn’t stand for being the lesser of the powerful beings.”
“But the sky… the impassable desert… you really think that will never be fixed?”
“Again, not if the wizard can help it.”
“But why?”
I sigh. “Because. That’s the world we live in, a world run by narcissistic witches and an egotistical wizard who will never give up their power. Now find me a new shirt.”
She frowns at me like she wants to argue, like she wants to believe.
I almost envy her and the hope she clings to. Hope is a powerful drug.
“Go,” I say, quieter now, and she darts off upstairs.
I light a cigarette, fill my lungs with smoke. I can hear her on the upper floor pulling open drawers, riffling through closets.
I hang my head back and take another hit.
I get a flash of Dorothy behind my eyes. Dark hair. Bright eyes. Red lips.
She seemed just as surprised to see me as I was to see her.
There is something about all this that tastes like ash on my tongue. Like I’m chasing a mirage. Like something is missing or not adding up.
But the more I poke at it, the less I care. Having no heart has its benefits, but this is not one. I want to care. If something is afoul, I want to care enough to find out what. But apathy quickly settles in, stealing my motivation.
I don’t care about a fucking thing.
The girl returns a few moments later with a black shirt. It’s a waffle knit with three buttons at the collar.
My movements are slow and careful. It takes me several minutes to get into the shirt. I’m fucking exhausted by the end of it.
I plop back into the chair and retrieve my dosing kit from my pants pocket. I roll up one sleeve to expose the crook of my elbow, then take the rubber band first, tying off a vein.
The girl watches me.
I give the vein a tap so it swells in the light.
I always travel with two vials of pure Oil and a diluted concoction in a canteen that can be drunk. The diluted kind is just to take the edge off. It’s not enough to keep my body running.
Right now I need the pure Oil and I need it straight into my veins.
I can already feel my metal arm growing stiff. If I wait too much longer, I’ll be locked up, unable to move while the world spins.
