An Artificial Night
Page 68
“What?” I forced myself to sit up, squinting. I was on the Luidaeg’s couch, across from the room’s single dirt-streaked window. The curtains were open; I’d never seen them that way before. The room was usually lit by flickering bulbs and a sort of undefined glow, letting the shadows breed in the corners and pulse with an odd life of their own. Now, watery sunlight was chasing them away, making the mess on the floor a lot easier to see. The walls were black with grime, and patches of varicolored mold covered the couch.
A brightly colored, clean-smelling quilt was spread over my legs, so out of place that it was almost jarring.
“How did I get here?” I asked, looking at the Luidaeg.
“Lily sent you on the tidal path.” She shook her head, something of her customary smirk creeping into her face. “She seemed to think hanging out with your Fetch was a bad plan.”
“Lily!” I threw the quilt off my legs, trying to stand. It didn’t work. “She drugged us!”
“Yup,” agreed the Luidaeg. “Really got you good. Invoked Mom’s name and everything. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve heard that invocation? That’s the Undine equivalent of breaking out the good china.”
“But—”
“She wanted you away from your Fetch, and frankly, I think she was right.”
I stared at her. “But she drugged us.”
“That is no longer news, dumbass. Are you going to ask why she drugged you?”
“All right,” I said, narrowing my eyes, “Why?”
“Because, dear October, you’re the most passively suicidal person I’ve ever met, and that’s saying something. You’ll never open your wrists, but you’ll run head-first into hell. You’ll have good reasons. You’ll have great reasons, even. And part of you will be praying that you won’t come out again.”
Her words struck a little too close to home. “That’s not true,” I protested, weakly.
“Isn’t it?” She stood, moving to the window and looking out onto the street. “Faeries live forever. Humans don’t, but they know they’re going to die; it’s in their blood. Your blood doesn’t know the way, and I think you’re trying to teach yourself.” She shook her head. “You mean well, but you’ve never been all that bright.”
“What does that have to do with May and Connor?”
“Connor? Nothing. He was just in the way.” She looked back to me. “May, on the other hand, is pretty much the crux of the problem. She’s here, so you think you’re getting what you want. You think you get to die. Well, guess what? You can’t. We won’t let you.”
“Won’t let me do what?”
“Die.”
“That’s nuts.”
“Is it?” She turned and walked into the kitchen. I levered myself off the couch and followed. I was still wearing the red and purple robe; my knife was tucked into the belt. At least I wasn’t unarmed.
The Luidaeg was ramming unwashed dishes into a cabinet when I entered the room, the clattering punctuated by the sound of breaking china. She stopped when she heard my footsteps, but didn’t turn. “You’re going back, aren’t you?”
“Katie’s still a horse. Can you fix her?”
“Not while my brother holds her. He didn’t let go just because you stole her.”
“And Karen—Karen! She’s still at Lily’s. I have to go back for her.”
“No, you don’t. She’s in my room.”
I paused. “She’s here?”
“That’s what I said. Poor kid must be exhausted. She’s been asleep since you got here.”
“Luidaeg, she’s been asleep since Blind Michael came.”
She dropped the plate she was holding, whipping around to stare at me. “What?”
“She won’t wake up.”
“Aw,fuck. You mean Lily wasn’t being obscure to piss me off?” She stalked into the hall. I followed. I’ve seen a lot of things since meeting the Luidaeg; some of them were even pleasant. But I’d never seen her bedroom, and considering the condition of the public parts of her apartment, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Still, if Karen was there, I needed to. I put my feet where the Luidaeg put hers as we walked down the hall, trusting her to know where it was safe to step. She stopped at the one door in the hall that was always closed, sighed, and pushed it open. “After you.”
I only paused for a moment before stepping through.
The room was dark, filled with shifting shadows too active to be natural. Behind me, the Luidaeg said, “Close your eyes,” and snapped her fingers before I had a chance to react. The candles clustered on every available surface burst into flame, flooding the room with light.
When the afterimages faded from my retinas, I blinked, looking around again. The candles filled the room with slow, heavy light that refracted off the six large fish tanks lining the far wall and threw ripples across the ceiling and the polished hardwood floor. Strange fish swam in those tanks, monsters of the deep with poison barbs and razored spines. A pearl-eyed sea dragon the length of my arm swam up to the glass, eyeing me balefully. The air smelled like seawater and brine.
An antique four-poster bed took up most of the wall next to the door. The frame was ornately carved with waves and seaweed and stylized mermaids, and the heavy black velvet curtains were drawn, hiding its contents from view.
“Luidaeg, this is—”
“Yeah, I know. I can’t keep up appearances everywhere; a girl has to sleep sometime.” She gestured toward the bed. “She’s in there.”
I stepped over to the bed, opening the curtains. Karen was lying there with sheets drawn up to her waist, unmoving. The blankets and pillows were a deep wine red, seeming almost bloody against her skin. She looked like a sleeping princess from a fairy story, small and wan and lost forever. Kneeling, I put my hand against her cheek and winced. It felt like she was running a fever, but there was no color in her cheeks; she was burning up without a flame, and her eyes were moving behind closed lids. Still dreaming. She’d been asleep for days, and she was still dreaming.
“Why won’t she wake up?”
“Hell if I know.” The Luidaeg sat on the edge of the bed, nudging Karen in the arm. When this failed to get a response, she nudged again, harder. “She’s really out of it.”
A brightly colored, clean-smelling quilt was spread over my legs, so out of place that it was almost jarring.
“How did I get here?” I asked, looking at the Luidaeg.
“Lily sent you on the tidal path.” She shook her head, something of her customary smirk creeping into her face. “She seemed to think hanging out with your Fetch was a bad plan.”
“Lily!” I threw the quilt off my legs, trying to stand. It didn’t work. “She drugged us!”
“Yup,” agreed the Luidaeg. “Really got you good. Invoked Mom’s name and everything. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve heard that invocation? That’s the Undine equivalent of breaking out the good china.”
“But—”
“She wanted you away from your Fetch, and frankly, I think she was right.”
I stared at her. “But she drugged us.”
“That is no longer news, dumbass. Are you going to ask why she drugged you?”
“All right,” I said, narrowing my eyes, “Why?”
“Because, dear October, you’re the most passively suicidal person I’ve ever met, and that’s saying something. You’ll never open your wrists, but you’ll run head-first into hell. You’ll have good reasons. You’ll have great reasons, even. And part of you will be praying that you won’t come out again.”
Her words struck a little too close to home. “That’s not true,” I protested, weakly.
“Isn’t it?” She stood, moving to the window and looking out onto the street. “Faeries live forever. Humans don’t, but they know they’re going to die; it’s in their blood. Your blood doesn’t know the way, and I think you’re trying to teach yourself.” She shook her head. “You mean well, but you’ve never been all that bright.”
“What does that have to do with May and Connor?”
“Connor? Nothing. He was just in the way.” She looked back to me. “May, on the other hand, is pretty much the crux of the problem. She’s here, so you think you’re getting what you want. You think you get to die. Well, guess what? You can’t. We won’t let you.”
“Won’t let me do what?”
“Die.”
“That’s nuts.”
“Is it?” She turned and walked into the kitchen. I levered myself off the couch and followed. I was still wearing the red and purple robe; my knife was tucked into the belt. At least I wasn’t unarmed.
The Luidaeg was ramming unwashed dishes into a cabinet when I entered the room, the clattering punctuated by the sound of breaking china. She stopped when she heard my footsteps, but didn’t turn. “You’re going back, aren’t you?”
“Katie’s still a horse. Can you fix her?”
“Not while my brother holds her. He didn’t let go just because you stole her.”
“And Karen—Karen! She’s still at Lily’s. I have to go back for her.”
“No, you don’t. She’s in my room.”
I paused. “She’s here?”
“That’s what I said. Poor kid must be exhausted. She’s been asleep since you got here.”
“Luidaeg, she’s been asleep since Blind Michael came.”
She dropped the plate she was holding, whipping around to stare at me. “What?”
“She won’t wake up.”
“Aw,fuck. You mean Lily wasn’t being obscure to piss me off?” She stalked into the hall. I followed. I’ve seen a lot of things since meeting the Luidaeg; some of them were even pleasant. But I’d never seen her bedroom, and considering the condition of the public parts of her apartment, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Still, if Karen was there, I needed to. I put my feet where the Luidaeg put hers as we walked down the hall, trusting her to know where it was safe to step. She stopped at the one door in the hall that was always closed, sighed, and pushed it open. “After you.”
I only paused for a moment before stepping through.
The room was dark, filled with shifting shadows too active to be natural. Behind me, the Luidaeg said, “Close your eyes,” and snapped her fingers before I had a chance to react. The candles clustered on every available surface burst into flame, flooding the room with light.
When the afterimages faded from my retinas, I blinked, looking around again. The candles filled the room with slow, heavy light that refracted off the six large fish tanks lining the far wall and threw ripples across the ceiling and the polished hardwood floor. Strange fish swam in those tanks, monsters of the deep with poison barbs and razored spines. A pearl-eyed sea dragon the length of my arm swam up to the glass, eyeing me balefully. The air smelled like seawater and brine.
An antique four-poster bed took up most of the wall next to the door. The frame was ornately carved with waves and seaweed and stylized mermaids, and the heavy black velvet curtains were drawn, hiding its contents from view.
“Luidaeg, this is—”
“Yeah, I know. I can’t keep up appearances everywhere; a girl has to sleep sometime.” She gestured toward the bed. “She’s in there.”
I stepped over to the bed, opening the curtains. Karen was lying there with sheets drawn up to her waist, unmoving. The blankets and pillows were a deep wine red, seeming almost bloody against her skin. She looked like a sleeping princess from a fairy story, small and wan and lost forever. Kneeling, I put my hand against her cheek and winced. It felt like she was running a fever, but there was no color in her cheeks; she was burning up without a flame, and her eyes were moving behind closed lids. Still dreaming. She’d been asleep for days, and she was still dreaming.
“Why won’t she wake up?”
“Hell if I know.” The Luidaeg sat on the edge of the bed, nudging Karen in the arm. When this failed to get a response, she nudged again, harder. “She’s really out of it.”
