Marrow (13 page)

I could barely hold onto my glass as Fantom handed it to me.

“And since I no longer have a sidekick, I want to make you an offer,” he said.

I knew where this was going. I couldn’t breathe.

He was going to ask me to be his new sidekick.

“Actually it’s an offer for both of you,” said Fantom, glancing to Flex. “I was wondering if you two wouldn’t mind doing an interview with me tomorrow on the Morning Show with Donnie Danson and a photo shoot with
Cosmo Talk
magazine afterward. I’ve already talked to them and they’d love to have you on board.”

Okay, maybe not an offer to be his new sidekick. But an interview with Fantom was easily the next best thing.

Flex pretended to nod casually. “Yeah, I think we can squeeze that into our schedule.”

“Great,” said Fantom, clapping his hands together. “I’ll let my publicity manager know.”

He seated himself across from us and crossed his legs. His cheerful countenance took on a subtle seriousness.

“Now with that out of the way . . . I’ve been meaning to ask you some questions, Marrow.”

“About what?” I asked. As if I didn’t know.

“Well, for starters, I understand that Oracle showed you her most recent premonition—a battle between your father and me. And then you were kidnapped and interrogated by some unknown Super named Nightmare who seemed to express great interest in this visit.”

“Yep,” I said, perhaps a little too nonchalantly. “Pretty much.”

“Interesting,” said Fantom. He leaned forward, interlocking his fingers. “I know this may be hard for you to hear, but I think it’s obvious your father is planning something big. Maybe something that could destroy this whole city. I need you, Marrow. I need you to help me stop your father. I need you to tell me everything.”

Something didn’t feel right.

I told Fantom everything I knew. None of which made any sense. In fact, it seemed to make even less sense as I repeated it to Fantom. Nightmare’s dream interrogation, his supposed interest in my visit with Oracle, and his association with my father. Nero’s sudden attack was the cherry to top it all off. It hurt my head just thinking about how none of the pieces seemed to fit.

I couldn’t think. And every time I tried, my mind drifted to Nero. His words still haunted me.

I’m here to kill you, Marrow.

I’d already beat the skinny little punk. Why did his stupid threat still bother me? I couldn’t figure it out. Something wasn’t right.

And then there was the ticking sound. Before it had only been in brief, infrequent spurts. But now it never seemed to stop.

Tick tooock tick tick…tick tooock tooock tick…tooock tooock…

Top that off with my episode on the Tartarus—that otherworldly voice, those glowing green eyes—and it was official. I was going insane.

I hoped that our interview on The Cosmo Show with Donnie Danson would make me feel better. The sheer spectacle of it was definitely a distraction. The CTN (Cosmo Television Network) tower was the tallest tower in all of Cosmo City, slicing through clouds and pollution like a knife. The inside was just as stunning—a sleek composition of hard edges with slanting and curving walls. As we moved past the lobby, every room and hallway seemed to share an artistic asymmetry.

I had caught glimpses of The Cosmo Show on TV, but it hardly compared to what the studio looked like in person. It was like a planetarium on steroids. The domed studio ceiling was adorned with holographic images of swirling galaxies and sprawling nebula clouds. The longer I stared at it the more I felt like gravity was going to reverse, and I would topple aimlessly into outer space.

Frantic men in CTN shirts and electronic headsets interrupted my moment of mind-bending euphoria as they rushed us backstage. A man with a clipboard and a nametag labeled “Bob” reviewed The Cosmo Show proceedings with us. I found myself paying more attention to the hairy wart in between his eyes.

Honestly, I’m not even sure why Fantom wanted us to join him. During the show he ended up doing the vast majority of the talking. Not that I minded. As popular a TV personality as Donnie Danson was, the guy creeped me out. I was choking on the chemicals in his swooping, gravity-defying hair from ten feet away, and his unflinching grin was big enough to give small children nightmares. Seriously, the guy was like a smiley mutant hybrid between the Joker and the Cheshire Cat.

The banter between Fantom and Donnie was seamless, although the occasional question was directed specifically to Flex or me. Flex handled his questions well, milking a few laughs from the audience. Every question that Donnie threw my was like a deliberate kick to the face.

“So, Marrow…” said Donnie, leaning forward on his desk and interlocking his fingers. His lips were peeled back, revealing all twenty-eight of his teeth. “What does it feel like to be the son of the most dangerous and deadly Supervillain of all time?”

“Uh…” I said. “It…sucks?”

The photo shoot was way worse.

The studio itself was an impressive white-walled room strewn with white background canvases. It hurt my eyes trying to distinguish between all the white. And then there were spotlights hanging from the ceiling, lights on stands, and a strange number of lights that looked like umbrellas. All of them appeared to be arranged very specifically. People were running around everywhere, some with papers in hand, others fumbling with equipment. My fifteen seconds of star-struck glee vanished when I met our photographer, Pierre, and the shooting commenced.

“No slouching, Marrow. You have ze posture of a monkey.”

“What is zat face, Marrow? You look constipated.”

“Chin up. Shoulders back. Eyes on me.”

“Give me a smile, Marrow. Zis is a photo shoot, not an execution. What kind of smile is zat? You look like a homicidal sociopath.”

“Ah, la vache! Je ne peux pas travailler avec cet imbécile!”

Pierre threw his hands in the air and stormed away from the camera after this last exclamation.

By the time the photo shoot was over, my head was ready to explode. Or implode. Or maybe just decompose. I followed Flex back to the rental car and closed my eyes as he drove. The ticking sound…Nero’s words… They swirled together inside my skull like a mental Frappuccino.

Tick tooock tooock tick…tooock tooock…tick…

I’m here to kill you, Marrow.

Tick…tick tooock tick tick…

I’m here to kill you…

Tick tick tick tick…

Marrow…

Tick…

“I want to go visit Nero,” I said. I blurted the words out faster than I could realize what I was saying. Something about visiting Nero just felt right.

I sounded like a crazy person.

“What?” said Flex. He looked as if I had just asked him to the royal ball in Chinese.

I decided breathing was probably important and made sure to enunciate. “I want to go visit Nero.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

I waited expectantly for a response. “Well?”

“You are aware that he’s in the hospital?” said Flex.

“Yeah, I know.”

“In a coma.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Because he tried to kill you, and you punched him in the face flying through the air at a hundred miles an hour.”

“Yep.”

Flex went silent.

“Okay,” he said.

I blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” said Flex. “The hospital is close. And…I was actually wanting to do something myself. So I’ll just drop you off. Pick you up in an hour?”

“Wait—what are
you
doing?” I asked.

“Nothing. Just stuff.”

“Uh-huh. Right. And I’m the Queen of France.”

“Oracle,” said Flex. His scraggly face flushed. “I’m going to visit Oracle.”

Not the answer I expected. My suspicions were more along the lines of “the liquor store” or “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Oracle?” I repeated.

“I just wanted to visit her…by myself,” said Flex. “Not that I don’t appreciate your company or anything. It’s just…you know…”

I didn’t know. But frankly, as long as he was visiting Oracle, I didn’t care. I was too keen on visiting Nero anyway. However, I still needed one more thing. And since Flex wanted to get rid of me…

I eyed Flex’s cell phone sitting on the center console.

“Do you have Specter’s number?” I asked.

“Huh? Specter? What do you need her number fo—?”

He paused before he finished his sentence and rolled his eyes. Grabbing his phone, he unlocked it with his thumb and handed it to me.

“Tell your girlfriend I said hi.”

***

I didn’t realize how insane this was until I was standing over Nero’s hospital bed. His face seemed so calm. Peaceful. For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to punch him in the face. Of course he was only in this situation because I
had
punched him in the face, but that was beside the point.

Not only was he in handcuffs, but the entire room had been telekinetic-proofed. Minus his IV and the machines monitoring his vitals, every loose object had been removed. Every other object, including his bed, were bolted to the floor. Sure, if Nero could fling a car, he could easily break the bolts. However, there was a motion sensor set up in the room, and a police officer stood outside, armed with a tranquilizer gun and ready to act the moment Nero woke up.

If
he woke up. The doctors had no idea when he would regain consciousness.

I doubted the police officer would have even let me in if he hadn’t seen my face all over TV. It helped that I was probably the only person in all of Cosmo City wearing a skin-tight skeleton bodysuit. I would have to try really hard to stand out more than I already did.

TICK TICK TICK TICK…TICK…TICK TOOOCK TICK TICK…

The ticking was louder than ever. I pressed my index and middle fingers to my temples as if I could squeeze the ticking out of my skull. I was only slightly aware of the door as it opened and closed behind me.

“Marrow?”

It was Sapphire. I slowly turned to meet her gaze. Her blue hair seemed to frame the concern in her eyes.

“Marrow, what are we doing here?” she asked.

I’m here to kill you, Marrow.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” I said, shaking my head. I wasn’t exactly sure if I was talking to Sapphire or Nero’s voice in my head.

Sapphire folded her slender arms and bit her lip. “What doesn’t make sense?”

Everything. Nothing made sense. But that wasn’t my response. There was something else. Something that had been bothering me for a while.

Something I hadn’t really realized until now.

“Marrow,” I said.

Sapphire shot me the sort of look one would usually reserve for someone dancing in the middle of the street in their underwear or throwing their own poop around like a monkey.

“Huh?” she said.

“Marrow,” I repeated. “Nero never called me Marrow.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nero has always called me Bonehead,” I said. “He’s never called me Marrow. Not even once.”

“Okay…” said Sapphire, clearly missing the point.

“Do
you
remember him ever actually calling me by my name?”

“Well, no, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“He called me Marrow when he tried to kill me,” I said.

Sapphire was silent for a moment, her face unreadable. “So what are you saying?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“So you called me here because Nero actually said your name?”

“It’s weird though, isn’t it?”

Sapphire was unimpressed. “I think you’re reading way too much into this. Just because he called you Marrow doesn’t mean—”

“But he kept calling me Marrow,” I protested. “Over and over again. And he didn’t call me Bonehead once. That goes against everything I know about Nero. If you’re Nero, you call me Bonehead because that’s as far as your cleverness goes. And that’s that.”

“So…what? You think this isn’t Nero then?” Sapphire gave a humorless nod to the hospital bed.

I opened my mouth to respond, but the door opened. Whisp timidly poked his head inside. “Hey, guys.”

“Whisp?” said Sapphire. Her head whipped back to me. “You told Whisp to come too?”

I ignored her. “Whisp, do you ever remember Nero calling me by my name?”

Whisp blinked behind his thick glasses. “Uh…”

“Marrow, stop it,” said Sapphire.

“He always called me Bonehead, right?” I pressed. “Do you remember him calling me Marrow? Even once?”

“Well…I don’t think so,” said Whisp.

“He was trying to kill you!” Sapphire snapped. She stepped directly between Whispand me, meeting my gaze with a fierce glare. “He’s never tried to kill you before, has he
?
People aren’t exactly going to be themselves when they’re trying to kill you, are they?”

I didn’t have a response for that.

“I know this has been hard on you,” she said. “It’s been hard on all of us. We all went to school with Nero. But that doesn’t change what happened. Nero made a mistake. A big mistake. And nothing can change that. So you need to stop whatever it is you’re trying to prove because you sound like a crazy person. You’re seriously scaring me, Marrow.”

That shut me up. I was crazy. I was literally losing my mind, and I was dragging Sapphire and Whisp into it.

“Is this a bad time?” Whisp asked, fidgeting awkwardly. “Because I can leave if it is.”

“No, it’s…I’m sorry,” I said, lowering my head. “Both of you. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I haven’t been myself lately.”

Sapphire stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me. “It’s okay, Marrow. We’re here for you.”

“I think you’re right,” I said. “I think I really am going crazy.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“I’m being serious,” I said. “I keep hearing this sound. This…ticking. Like a clock, except it has no rhythm. The ticking is all over the place. And ever since Nero attacked me, it’s gotten worse.”

Sapphire’s arms went limp around me. She stepped away, eyes widened and mouth slightly ajar. “You’ve heard it too?”

Her reaction sent every hair on my body rigid. “Wait—
you
can hear it?”

“Well…not right now,” she said. “But I’ve heard it. I thought it was just part of a really bad migraine or something.”

Whisp’s nervous gaze darted between the two of us. He shifted uncomfortably where he stood. Sapphire and I both simultaneously turned to face him.