CHAPTER TWELVE
we're not the monsters

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WHEN YOU SMELL SOMETHING, OLFACTORY NEURONS—tiny cells located inside the nostrils—send electrical messages via axons to the olfactory bulb, part of the forebrain. Each of these olfactory neurons connects with a different neuron in the olfactory bulb, which then proceed to send information to other parts of the brain. Some of the parts that receive these signals—such as the hippocampus and amygdala—are the primary storage lockers for explicit memories. Therefore, a certain smell can trigger a certain memory.

For example, the smell of Jayme and Alphonso Hargreeves' corpses reminded Nadine of the others she'd found herself up close and personal with.

The first one had been Harold Jenkins. Nadine hadn't exactly been upset about his death—he was a serial killer that manipulated Viktor in order to take advantage of his powers, after all, and was the trigger to the first apocalypse—but the sight of his corpse, a gory pincushion of utensils, hadn't exactly gone down easy, regardless. There had been so much blood that she'd tried to stay away, but she hadn't been able to escape the vomit-inducing stench that had exuded from his cold, waxy corpse. The coppery and raw tinge of blood. The nose-hair-curling reek of rotting flesh. Even the faintest hint of bodily fluids—Harold Jenkins, like approximately fifty percent of people, had defecated right after death. It was horrific, repulsive, and, quite honestly, made Nadine want to curl up into a ball and die.

The Handler's body, too, had smelled nearly exactly the same, though hers was almost made worse with the addition of her sickeningly sweet perfume. Nadine had checked to see if she was still alive, but when she'd bent down to press her fingers against the freezing skin of her neck, she'd recoiled at the blast in the face of the same, unfortunately familiar, rot. It was just as horrible a second time, and she couldn't get away fast enough (though she did make time to strike the corpse across the face).

And those had been people she disliked.

Elliott had been, by far, the worst. Not only had his body shown obvious signs of torture—several missing teeth, a scalpel plunged into the upper lip, and a knife buried in his chest—but he'd smelled just like every other corpse. Rotting. Festering. Like trash left right out in the sun and an open vein and the inside of an outhouse.

It had taken Nadine a lot of will to be able to take the clamps out of his mouth and the scalpel from his lip, and that was only because she cared about him. She hated the fact that he'd become this sort of monster in death, though. Disgusting. Repulsive. Practically buzzing with flies.

He deserved better than that. She was glad he'd gotten a proper burial.

There had been the Swede, too, but Nadine had been still recovering from the supernova within her mind while dealing with him. Perhaps the illness had actually taken the edge off the stench. Whatever the reason, though, she didn't remember this one as clearly as the others.

Even so, all of them rushed through her mind as she stood over the two new corpses that had just been created. They'd only just died, but they were already beginning to let off the smell that was becoming uncomfortably familiar. Nadine wondered if it was Harlan's ability that had fast-forwarded the process.

A shudder ran down her spine, and she closed her eyes. It didn't help. The bodies of Harold and The Handler and the Swede and Elliott danced behind her closed eyelids, gruesome and monstrous. Her stomach lurched. She stumbled backwards, hand over her nose and mouth. Her entire body was still stiff from the aftermath of Christopher's attack, and protested soundly to this. She did it regardless.

When she opened her eyes again, unable to take the vicious onslaught of memories, she noticed something she hadn't before—Sloane lay beside her brother and sister, apparently unconscious. Luther was kneeling above her, alternating between checking her pulse and stealing glances at the corpses. His face was pale, his expression twisted. Nadine got the feeling that she betrayed nearly the same look.

Her heart continued to pound, refusing to slow down despite her best efforts. The smell of the corpses was muffled under the cloak of her hand, but it didn't go away. It seemed to bore right into her.

Stanley leaped over the counter he'd taken refuge behind and landed with a thud on the floor. Diego whistled to grab his attention. His mouth was tight and pinched.

"You! Upstairs! Now!" he ordered.

Stan didn't argue. He just watched Diego approach, threw his arms around him, and headed off.

This, of course, was the moment Klaus decided to make his entrance.

He danced through the revolving doors with his usual energy, wearing a pink jacket he certainly hadn't been in before. When he noticed the bodies, however—or, perhaps, just smelled them—he drew to a halt. His eyes went wide.

"Oh, man. Heavens to Betsy. What did you do? Did Viktor go full 'Carrie' again?"

"Don't blame him," Nadine said, her voice shaking.

"We didn't do this," Allison added, glancing pointedly at Harlan. He twitched a little.

"Harlan?" Viktor asked tentatively.

"Don't!" Harlan blurted. Klaus backed up, hands out in surrender. "Don't come near me, please."

"I just want to make sure that you're okay," Viktor said.

Harlan clutched at his temples, breathing rapidly. Nadine shifted her weight from foot to foot. She didn't know what to say. All she knew was that Harlan was the reason Jayme and Alphonso were dead. He was also the reason she was still alive.

And she didn't understand.

"You can... you can talk now," Viktor said. "It's—"

"I can do a lot of things now," Harlan interrupted.

"Who the hell is creepy grandpa?" Klaus muttered to Diego and Allison. He wasn't exactly quiet about it—his voice rang through the room. Usually, Nadine would've shot him a look of admonishment at that, but she found that she was still struggling to take in a full breath.

"That's the kid Viktor saved in Dallas," Diego responded. Both Allison and Klaus sucked in breaths at this, recognition striking their own features.

"But didn't he get rid of all the kid's mojo when he did all 'that'?" Klaus asked, shaking his body to mimic the transmutation of powers that had occurred in the barn.

"Yeah, I guess that didn't stick," Allison replied.

"What's he doing here, now?"

"Who cares?" Diego interrupted. "He saved us from the Sparrows."

He killed the Sparrows, Nadine thought. That's not our way.

Or, at least, it's not mine.

"Sloane," Luther breathed, hovering over the remaining Sparrow's prone form. "Sloane, are you all right?"

Sloane began to stir, a wince crossing her face. Her lip was bloody, and she struggled to sit up. Luther helped her, whispering condolences all the while. But when her eyes fell onto her siblings' bodies, her face whitened.

"It's all right," Luther tried. But Sloane was already getting to her feet. "Sloane, it's all right. Sloane."

Sloane, clutching her arm, met Luther's gaze. Then she ran.

"You got a live one, Luther!" Diego shouted. When Luther headed after her, he followed—though Nadine suspected it was for a completely different reason. And, in all the chaos, Harlan took off, too.

"Harlan, wait!" Viktor cried. He turned to Nadine and Allison, who were exchanging a panicked look. "Um... you two go help Luther."

"What about you?" Allison asked.

"I can handle it. Go."

"Okay, okay, okay."

"Got it," Nadine said. Her voice came out a lot weaker than she would've liked.

Allison took her by the arm, and the two of them ran after Luther and Diego, climbing the stairs two at a time. They followed the sounds of thudding footsteps and Luther's frequent calls for Sloane, navigating their way through the maze of hallways. Twice, they nearly crashed right into a couple of the hotel guests—apparently, they hadn't gotten the memo that there was just a fire. Unfortunately, there was no time to properly apologize, so they settled for a quick "Sorry!" before turning down another corridor.

Their trail ended up leading into the men's bathroom. A mimic of the women's, it contained a row of blue and orange bathtubs, gauzy showers, and creaky blue stalls. It was surprisingly clean, given its clientele, though a little damp.

Diego, Luther, and Sloane were all present. Diego had an arm hooked around Sloane's neck, resting the blade of one of his knives there. Sloane was crying, her face pale. Luther, his back to Allison and Nadine, had one arm out in pleading.

"I said let her go," he was saying. "She's hurt."

"She is the enemy," Diego corrected. He brought his knife closer to Sloane's neck. She flinched away. Luther stepped forward.

"If you hurt her, I will bury you."

Allison stepped forward, face hardening. "You gonna bury me too, Luther?"

"Whoa, whoa." Nadine drew to a halt. "Everyone needs to calm down."

Luther's chest heaved. "Just... just let me talk to her. Okay? Please."

"Trust me," Allison said. "She's gonna talk."

Nadine didn't like her tone of voice. Even though her blood was singing with her usual fire, demanding revenge against the Sparrows, the sight of Sloane, tear-streaked and panicked, had made her reconsider the stance she was going to take on this. The Sparrow Academy had just tried to kill her—that was non-negotiable. But now, two of them were dead, and every member of the Umbrella Academy was still standing. Wasn't that enough for now?

Besides, it wasn't really Sloane who Nadine held animosity against. It was those who escaped—Ben, Fei, Kadence and Christopher Hargreeves.

Sloane wasn't completely off the hook. But if they had her... Nadine just didn't want to be one of the monsters the Sparrow Academy thought the Umbrella Academy was. She didn't want to do what they'd thought she did to Marcus.

"It's okay," Luther consoled, his voice barely a whisper. "It's okay."

Sloane closed her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"My brother..." she whispered. "My sister. You... you killed them."

"No," Nadine said, stepping forward. "No, we didn't. This wasn't us."

"You knew the man who did it." Sloane's breath hitched. "You said his name. He... he did that to protect you."

"You were going to kill us," Diego snapped. "Your sister had us all trapped in the floor. Your freaky cube brother attacked our minds. You can't seriously be blaming us for fighting back."

"We didn't ask him to do that," Luther said, shooting a withering look at Diego. "We would—we would never—"

"Don't speak for all of us, Luther," Allison interrupted. Her lip curled. "Honestly, the way I'm seeing it, he did us a favour."

A sob broke free from Sloane's lips. Nadine ducked her head, her nostrils flaring. She could no longer smell the bodies of Jayme and Alphonso, but nausea was still surging through her. Her entire body trembled, weak from Christopher's assault.

Sometimes she forgot that the members of the Umbrella Academy were killers. Oh, sure, Five threw it in her face all the time, but people like Allison and Diego were more subtle about it (well, about as subtle as a man who carried knives everywhere could be). From the age of thirteen onwards, they'd taken lives for the good of the people, cutting throats and Rumoring criminals to shoot themselves and crushing skulls beneath their powerful hands. Back then, Nadine, from afar, had been so enamoured by their costumes and fame that she hadn't really paid attention to the real effects taking lives must bring. Like being so used to death that you barely bat an eye at two more.

Nadine, despite her custom for violence, could never be like that.

Not after she'd almost been on the receiving end of such an act.

"Stop," she said. "What are—what are you guys doing?"

"What does it look like?" Allison snapped. "She and her siblings just reneged on our deal and tried to kill us. You seriously can't have already forgotten that, can you, Nadine?"

"I haven't," said Nadine, still remembering the screams of her friends—her family, now—ringing in her ears. "I'm as mad as everyone here is. We still don't have the briefcase. The Sparrows—they betrayed us. But... I just can't..." She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "I still feel sick, and all of this isn't helping."

"Okay, fine." Diego released his hold on Sloane's throat, then slammed her against the wall. "Is that better?"

Sloane's breath hitched. She glanced between all of them. Her eyes held on Luther's the longest, but she did manage to give Nadine a pleading look, too. Nadine chewed on her lip, fists curling and uncurling. A war raged within her, fierce as a tsunami. She wasn't sure where she should draw the line.

Allison and Diego both sat on the edge of the bathtub, keeping their eyes glued on their new prisoner. Luther stood off to the side, his expression shifting between relief and dread. He kept glancing at Sloane, and then looking away.

Diego flipped a knife in his hand, the blade glinting in the bathroom light. Allison leaned forward, steely-eyed. Sloane continued to tremble.

"I heard a rumour..." Allison began. Luther immediately stepped forward.

"Whoa, Allison, hey."

"...you're gonna tell me the truth."

"Let her do her thing, man," Diego said.

Sloane's eyes glazed over with white, completely obscuring her iris and pupil. Shaking, she tried to resist the compulsion, but there was no resisting it. Nadine had seen as much back in the tiki bar when Diego had punched himself in the face.

"Where's the briefcase?" Allison asked.

Sloane whimpered, trying to keep her mouth shut. Nadine swallowed. She really wasn't liking the look in Sloane's eyes.

"Tell me," Allison hissed. "Where is it?"

Again, Sloane didn't answer. Allison got to her feet. "Where the hell... is it?"

"I don't know!" Sloane blurted. The words came out of her mouth jagged, the serrated edges of knives. Luther finally snapped.

"Allison!"

"We left it in your house, and it is our only way out of this!" Allison cried. "Where is it?"

Blood formed in Sloane's nostrils and streaked down her face. Her eyes glazed over again, and a new lurch of nausea twisted in Nadine's gut. This was all too much for the span of twenty minutes. It wasn't even four o'clock yet, the time they'd actually set for the deal.

"That's enough!" Luther roared, taking Allison by the shoulders and yanking her away. The spell on Sloane broke, and she sunk to the floor, gasping. Blood continued to pour from her nose.

Diego sighed, putting his knife back in its holster. "You better ask yourself which side you on, bro."

"Would you just get the hell out of here?"

He got to his feet. "Gonna tell me what to do, now?"

"Stop!" Nadine snapped. "Jesus Christ, this is not the time to be fighting!"

"All of you, just get out!" Allison screamed. She pointed an accusatory finger at Sloane. "She doesn't leave your sight. Do you understand? This isn't over."

Diego left with nary a glance back into the room. Luther's eyebrows knitted together in conflict, but he obliged. "Come on, let's go," he urged Sloane, putting an arm around her shoulders and leading her out.

Nadine stayed for a moment, shaking from head to toe. What the fuck had just happened?

Everything was wrong. Corpses and mangled bodies and screaming, tortured friends all swam in her peripherals, a bloody, gory mess. Sloane whimpered. Hazel and Cha-Cha's grinning cartoon masks leered at her through the darkness.

Allison had started to turn, then noticed Nadine hadn't moved. "What are you still doing here?" she asked. "I said leave."

Nadine wanted to argue that Allison wasn't the leader—hadn't they just established that she, Nadine and Viktor were a team?—but she sensed it would only lead to more screaming. There was something manic in Allison's eyes, something that had been suppressed when she'd still had hope of getting the briefcase. Now, though, it had come to full force.

She didn't like it. It made her friend—her sweet, beautiful friend—into something a little more terrifying.

So, she left, clutching her arms around her middle. Everything was too much.

She should've insisted on going with Viktor.

THE DEFEATED TREK BACK to the Sparrow Academy mansion felt as if it lasted a year. Kadence, limping a little from the effects of that strange man's attack, planning her revenge, barely realized where she was going. She just followed Ben like a dog after its owner, trembling with barely concealed rage.

Fei, beside her, walked quietly, but she had her own anger twisting her expression. A few ravens flew above her head, circling madly. Christopher burbled to himself, his body shifting several different shades—though he mostly kept between angry red and grieving blue—and Ben occasionally stumbled in place. He was obviously trying to keep his composure, but he was just as upset as the rest of them. Their siblings had died, after all. No one expected them to just forget about that.

When they burst through the front doors of the mansion like the Umbrellas themselves were still chasing them, Fei finally snapped. Glaring accusatorially at Ben, she snarled, "You walked us into a slaughter."

"You were all right there with me," Ben growled back. "This is as much your fault as mine."

"Bull-fucking-shit," Kadence said. "This was your plan, not ours. You were the one who wanted to renege on the deal we made."

"Oh, quiet, Kadence. You were all for it."

"It doesn't matter if we agreed with you or not," Fei said. "You're Number One, remember?"

"Yeah, but I'm a different kind of Number One."

"Mm, the shitty kind. That's why Dad demoted you. That's why he made Marcus Number One. You don't know how to lead. You don't have what it takes."

As Fei was talking, Ben turned around, slowly, to face his sister. His eyes were brimming with something a lot darker than rage. He was boiling over, a volcano, about to spew his molten lava over them all.

Fei's comment, apparently, set him over the edge. He struck her, knocking her sunglasses off her face and sending them, clattering, to the ground. Her birds cawed angrily, protesting this. Fei raised her head, revealing her eyeless skull.

Then, she laughed. Her cackles filled the air, a little insane, a little off the rocker. But they only lasted a moment before her face fell back into rage again. She leaned forward, baring her teeth. "Marcus would have never let—"

"He's gone," Ben interrupted. "You know what our real problem is? You. You're a shit Number Two, Fei."

Christopher finally decided to pipe up. Ben glanced at him. A triumphant smile formed on his face. "See? Even Christopher agrees with me. And I bet Kadence does, too."

"Don't drag me into this," Kadence said lowly. "I'm Number Eight, remember? It's not like my opinion has ever been worth a damn."

"Well, lucky for you, you've gotten an upgrade. Welcome to being Number Four."

"Oh, I'm so goddamn honoured. I only get a better position because our siblings fucking died."

"It's not as if you would've had the chance otherwise. Our method of attack was all you, Kadence. Your idea was fucking doomed from the start. God, I should've known not to listen to you."

Kadence raised her middle finger at him. "At least I had an idea. You were going to lead us in there with nothing. If we'd done that, I bet we would've ended up even more screwed. Fei's right. You're a shit leader. What happened back there was not on me. It was on you."

"Fuck you, Kadence!"

"No! Fuck you! Actually, fuck all of you! I'm so tired of holding my tongue and following after your every beck and call, solely because I was assigned an arbitrary number as an infant. We're not kids anymore. We're in the real world. And, really, there is no reason for either of you to be telling me what to do. Especially when there are so few of us left."

Kadence's chest heaved as she finished saying the words she'd wanted to for a long, long time. She had been burning up inside for years now—really, her entire life. Her status as Number Eight had always made her inferior, but she was so goddamn tired of being inferior. Especially when she'd done nothing to deserve it.

She was Number Eight because she was obedient. She was obedient because she was Number Eight. It was an endless loop, one without a beginning, and, if she was being honest, made absolutely no sense. She was powerful, perhaps far more powerful than Jayme or Alphonso or Sloane. She'd had training the others hadn't. She had an eye for spotting weaknesses in her opponents.

Why wasn't that enough?

Ben's entire body tightened, the tendons on his neck pushing through his skin. His face twisted, his hands twitching at his sides. It looked like he wanted to hit her, too. Kadence rolled her neck. Try me.

In the end, he didn't. Instead, he just sneered, "It's not like you would've gotten anywhere otherwise."

Then, with that, he turned, heading into their father's office. Christopher, hovering above his shoulder, trailed after him. Fei picked up her discarded sunglasses, slipped them back on her nose, and did the same.

Kadence did, too, but that was only to keep up appearances. As soon as she could, she was going to get out of here. She was going back to the Hotel Obsidian alone, and she was going to find Viktor. She was going to make him and that bitch Nadine wish that they'd never been born.

As she crossed the threshold, her father, elbows propped up on his desk, asked, "What did I miss? Sounds juicy."

Ben sunk down onto the couch and propped his feet on the table. "Dad, we lost Jayme, Alphonso, and Sloane."

"Oh!" He rose out of his seat. "Well, then we should be out looking for them. Fetch my jacket."

"No, Dad," Fei said. "He means they're dead."

Reginald kept his eyes on her for a moment, trying to see if she was joking. When he found nothing to betray this on her face, he glanced at Ben, Kadence, and Christopher in turn. Kadence just glared at him. The stupid old fogey had been the reason they'd even gone out in the first place.

"Such a shame," he murmured, sitting back down. "What happened?"

"Those assholes from the Umbrella Academy," Ben responded. "You were actually right about them."

"After Marcus disappeared, Ben led us on a mission to take them down," Fei said.

"And it would have worked, but they had some kind of secret weapon. This old guy with powers on their side, which is totally cheating. We didn't have a chance."

"Oh, so now it would've worked?" Kadence muttered. "Jesus, pick a stance."

"So what do you intend to do about it?" their father asked.

The four of them exchanged looks (well, Kadence, Ben, and Fei did, anyway. Kadence wasn't even sure if Christopher was paying attention). Fei gestured at Ben to speak. He gestured back at her. Kadence glared at the both of them.

In the end, it was Fei who spoke. "We need to be ready if they come to finish us off, and they will unless we come up with a plan. So, what is your next genius idea, idea guy?"

Ben had nothing. His eyes flickered down to the floor.

Fei scoffed, waving her arm. Her ravens followed her as she made her way out of the room.

Christopher spoke, and Ben rolled his eyes. "Fine. Go with her. See if I care."

He did, giving one last muttered goodbye on his way out. This left just Kadence and Ben behind—and Kadence quickly got up to leave, too. Now that the briefing was over with, she didn't need any of them. She didn't need to play compliant little Number Eight anymore.

Not where she was going.

She headed upstairs to her room, each step of the staircase creaking under her weight. Closing the door behind her, she shucked off her bloodied uniform, pulled on clean clothes, and sat on her bed. It was there, nestled among her several pillows, one foot hanging off the bed, that she began to plan.

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HAVEN: i warned you guys that this chapter was gonna be rough lol. these bitches just can't get along jfc. and allison is definitely going a little bit off her rocker.

silver lining: sabine pov next chapter. nadine and luther finally have the Talk you've been waiting for. i hope you at least are a little excited for that!!

thanks for reading <333