A Local Habitation
Page 94
“I don’t understand.” I was lying, but I didn’t think she could tell; I’m pretty good at hiding that sort of thing. She was standing on the edge of sanity, and I was afraid that if she lost her balance, she’d take Quentin with her. I couldn’t let that happen. I needed her distracted.
“We’d all have been the same inside the crystal! There would’ve been no more borders and no more differences! We could all have been what we were meant to be!”
“Static. Dead. Unchanging.” I shook my head, not caring how stupid my words were. She had the gun and Quentin was unconscious; I had to defend us both, and for the moment, words were my only weapon. “That’s not life. That’s just programming.”
“It’s the best chance we have for Faerie—for us. Have the purebloods gotten their lies so close to your bones that you can’t see them anymore? Have you forgotten what they call you?” Her voice rose, taking on a sharp, mocking tone. Remembered pain and stolen mockery. “Half-blood. Mongrel. Mutt. Have you forgotten the way they hurt and hurt and never care?” Tears were gleaming in her eyes; she was too busy ranting to hide them.
“I’ll never forget what I am,” I said, softly. “But I know how to forgive.”
“They own you! You’re one of their dogs! When the purebloods order you, you go. You even baby-sit their kids while you’re marching off to die!” She laughed. “We found everything we needed to know when we were trying to find out how we could stop you from destroying everything. Sylvester points and you go. Dog. Stupid, mongrel dog.” Her words were meant to wound, but it’s hard to hurt me with words. I’ve heard them before.
“I’m his and he’s mine. Everyone owns their family, for good or bad. It’s why we don’t kill each other.” There were only a few feet between us. If she kept distracting herself, I might be able to make it. “If I’m their dog, it’s because they’re family, and I want to be.”
“Then why didn’t they stay for me?!” Her grip on the gun was loosening. Hysteria was breaking her focus. That didn’t mean she wasn’t dangerous; it might actually mean we were in more danger. Insanity is unpredictable. “If family works that way, why didn’t mine stay?!”
“I don’t know, Gordan. I’d tell you if I did,” I said.
“They wouldn’t listen!” She was lost in her own private pain: my world and hers weren’t meeting anymore. “They would never listen! Not my mother, not Barbara, not anyone! I wasn’t pureblooded and they were, so I wasn’t good enough to listen to! Idiots!”
“Why wouldn’t they listen?” I asked, inching forward. I was almost close enough.
She didn’t notice. “They thought being pureblooded meant they knew better than I did,” she said bitterly. “No matter what we do, no matter how much we improve Faerie, it’s never going to make them accept us. You should know that. It’s not my fault Daddy left. It’s not my fault I was born the way I am. So why do they blame me?”
The gun was dangling forgotten in her hands. I wasn’t going to get a better chance. If I moved now, I might be able to shove her over the edge before she could hurt Quentin, even if she shot me in the process. It was my fault that he was in this mess in the first place. I had to do whatever it took to get him out of it alive. Lunging forward, I grabbed the gun out of her hand, spinning both of us around in the process. Now she was the one with her back toward the wall, and one little push would be enough to send me to down to Elliot.
Gordan screamed, landing an openhanded slap across my cheek. “Bitch! Don’t you see? They’re doing it to you, too!” Her fury was almost visible, and the air was swimming with the burning oil signature of her magic. No wonder I hadn’t been able to trace the spell that blew up my car. The smell blended into the flames. “They’ll never let you be anything but a pet! You’re their dog, their stupid changeling dog!”
“I don’t care,” I said. “I like being what I am.” I was baiting her to keep her distracted, and it looked like it was working. She wasn’t looking at Quentin at all.
She lunged. I scrambled backward. My left shoulder slammed against the railing, and a bolt of pain shot through my arm. I cried out. “They’ll kill you when they’re done with you, just like they kill everything else!” I wasn’t prepared to dodge this time, and her lunge ended with her hands closed around my throat. She squeezed, shouting, “They kill everything they touch! Everything!”
I beat my fists against her, suddenly aware of how useless the gun in my hand really was. I had no way to aim or brace myself, and I didn’t know whether the chamber was blocked; if I tried to shoot her, I might blow my own head off. I couldn’t even get the aim needed to hit her in the back of the head with her own weapon, satisfying though the idea was. I brought up one knee instead, planting it in her stomach. Unfortunately, it didn’t have the desired effect: her grip on my throat tightened.
“Didn’t it bother you?” she asked, with restored calm. She knew she was winning. “Knowing you were less than they were, knowing they wouldn’t care if you died? There’s always another changeling. You’re nothing special.”
Black spots were clouding my vision, and my fists were beating more and more weakly against her sides. Suffocation feels a lot like drowning. I don’t recommend either. Gathering the last of my strength, I whispered, “Says . . . you.”
That just made her angrier. She removed a hand from my throat, delivering another slap. I didn’t care. I was too busy struggling to fill my aching lungs with air.
“Do you know the real reason I killed her that way?” she demanded. “I didn’t back her up, that’s why—even if the others come back, she won’t. She’s gone, and nothing your masters do will bring her back. How’s that for the dogs, huh? How’s that? We took down one of the kennel keepers!”
“But only one . . .” I whispered.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll kill as many as it takes.” She slapped me again, snapping my head to the side. “Why you and not me? Why did they want you? My blood’s more pure than yours! Why are you their lapdog while they keep me in the kennels? Why?”
“I don’t know,” I said. Her hands closed around my throat again, and the black spots surged back.
“We’d all have been the same inside the crystal! There would’ve been no more borders and no more differences! We could all have been what we were meant to be!”
“Static. Dead. Unchanging.” I shook my head, not caring how stupid my words were. She had the gun and Quentin was unconscious; I had to defend us both, and for the moment, words were my only weapon. “That’s not life. That’s just programming.”
“It’s the best chance we have for Faerie—for us. Have the purebloods gotten their lies so close to your bones that you can’t see them anymore? Have you forgotten what they call you?” Her voice rose, taking on a sharp, mocking tone. Remembered pain and stolen mockery. “Half-blood. Mongrel. Mutt. Have you forgotten the way they hurt and hurt and never care?” Tears were gleaming in her eyes; she was too busy ranting to hide them.
“I’ll never forget what I am,” I said, softly. “But I know how to forgive.”
“They own you! You’re one of their dogs! When the purebloods order you, you go. You even baby-sit their kids while you’re marching off to die!” She laughed. “We found everything we needed to know when we were trying to find out how we could stop you from destroying everything. Sylvester points and you go. Dog. Stupid, mongrel dog.” Her words were meant to wound, but it’s hard to hurt me with words. I’ve heard them before.
“I’m his and he’s mine. Everyone owns their family, for good or bad. It’s why we don’t kill each other.” There were only a few feet between us. If she kept distracting herself, I might be able to make it. “If I’m their dog, it’s because they’re family, and I want to be.”
“Then why didn’t they stay for me?!” Her grip on the gun was loosening. Hysteria was breaking her focus. That didn’t mean she wasn’t dangerous; it might actually mean we were in more danger. Insanity is unpredictable. “If family works that way, why didn’t mine stay?!”
“I don’t know, Gordan. I’d tell you if I did,” I said.
“They wouldn’t listen!” She was lost in her own private pain: my world and hers weren’t meeting anymore. “They would never listen! Not my mother, not Barbara, not anyone! I wasn’t pureblooded and they were, so I wasn’t good enough to listen to! Idiots!”
“Why wouldn’t they listen?” I asked, inching forward. I was almost close enough.
She didn’t notice. “They thought being pureblooded meant they knew better than I did,” she said bitterly. “No matter what we do, no matter how much we improve Faerie, it’s never going to make them accept us. You should know that. It’s not my fault Daddy left. It’s not my fault I was born the way I am. So why do they blame me?”
The gun was dangling forgotten in her hands. I wasn’t going to get a better chance. If I moved now, I might be able to shove her over the edge before she could hurt Quentin, even if she shot me in the process. It was my fault that he was in this mess in the first place. I had to do whatever it took to get him out of it alive. Lunging forward, I grabbed the gun out of her hand, spinning both of us around in the process. Now she was the one with her back toward the wall, and one little push would be enough to send me to down to Elliot.
Gordan screamed, landing an openhanded slap across my cheek. “Bitch! Don’t you see? They’re doing it to you, too!” Her fury was almost visible, and the air was swimming with the burning oil signature of her magic. No wonder I hadn’t been able to trace the spell that blew up my car. The smell blended into the flames. “They’ll never let you be anything but a pet! You’re their dog, their stupid changeling dog!”
“I don’t care,” I said. “I like being what I am.” I was baiting her to keep her distracted, and it looked like it was working. She wasn’t looking at Quentin at all.
She lunged. I scrambled backward. My left shoulder slammed against the railing, and a bolt of pain shot through my arm. I cried out. “They’ll kill you when they’re done with you, just like they kill everything else!” I wasn’t prepared to dodge this time, and her lunge ended with her hands closed around my throat. She squeezed, shouting, “They kill everything they touch! Everything!”
I beat my fists against her, suddenly aware of how useless the gun in my hand really was. I had no way to aim or brace myself, and I didn’t know whether the chamber was blocked; if I tried to shoot her, I might blow my own head off. I couldn’t even get the aim needed to hit her in the back of the head with her own weapon, satisfying though the idea was. I brought up one knee instead, planting it in her stomach. Unfortunately, it didn’t have the desired effect: her grip on my throat tightened.
“Didn’t it bother you?” she asked, with restored calm. She knew she was winning. “Knowing you were less than they were, knowing they wouldn’t care if you died? There’s always another changeling. You’re nothing special.”
Black spots were clouding my vision, and my fists were beating more and more weakly against her sides. Suffocation feels a lot like drowning. I don’t recommend either. Gathering the last of my strength, I whispered, “Says . . . you.”
That just made her angrier. She removed a hand from my throat, delivering another slap. I didn’t care. I was too busy struggling to fill my aching lungs with air.
“Do you know the real reason I killed her that way?” she demanded. “I didn’t back her up, that’s why—even if the others come back, she won’t. She’s gone, and nothing your masters do will bring her back. How’s that for the dogs, huh? How’s that? We took down one of the kennel keepers!”
“But only one . . .” I whispered.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll kill as many as it takes.” She slapped me again, snapping my head to the side. “Why you and not me? Why did they want you? My blood’s more pure than yours! Why are you their lapdog while they keep me in the kennels? Why?”
“I don’t know,” I said. Her hands closed around my throat again, and the black spots surged back.
