Chimes at Midnight
Page 42
Which meant I was now addicted.
“Shit,” I mumbled, against the flesh of my own hand.
Footsteps came running down the hall outside my door before it banged open. I tilted my head back and saw a woman I didn’t recognize standing there, hands braced against the doorframe. She had the body of a 1940s pinup girl and the hair of a Disney princess, platinum blonde, shoulder-length, and just wavy enough to make it interesting to animate. She also had a pair of frantically beating mayfly’s wings growing from her shoulders.
“Toby!” she shouted. She hurried forward, helping me off the floor. Her wings provided just enough lift to make the process possible. I doubt she could have moved me on her own.
“Hi, Jin,” I said, leaning on her and allowing myself to be moved. My knees still hurt, and my palms were still bleeding. That didn’t strike me as a good sign. “Recent molt, huh?” Jin was an Ellyllon, a type of hedonistic fae who often worked as healers, since they were better acquainted with the body than almost anyone else. That meant, among other things, that she periodically changed her entire physical appearance. She didn’t have any control over the process, but the results were always interesting.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been blonde,” she said, taking her arms away once she was sure I was steady. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit in the face with an evil pie.” I opened my eyes, panic lancing through me. “Where’s Quentin? He was with me.”
“He’s here,” said Jin. “I made him wait in the ballroom when he wouldn’t stop pacing. Sylvester came back from Goldengreen once we realized what was happening to you. He’s been with your squire in the ballroom since.” As the Duke’s personal physician, Jin was one of the few people who could order Sylvester Torquill around his own knowe.
I nodded shakily, looking down at my bleeding palms. “This is bad, huh?”
“You could say that.” Jin placed the back of her hand against my forehead. “You’re not running a fever. That’s a good sign.”
“What are you talking about? It’s a drug, not a disease.”
“Yes, except that your body seemed to treat it as a combination of the two. Goblin fruit is tricky, Toby, and you have the power to make it . . . better . . . for yourself.”
From the way she said “better,” I didn’t think she was referring to the process of kicking my unwanted habit. “What do you mean?”
“Humans enjoy goblin fruit more than fae do. It’s part of why it kills them. It’s why it kills changelings, too, although it takes longer. You may be the only changeling who’s ever tasted the stuff and had the power to make things . . . more enjoyable.”
I stared at her.
Slowly, Jin nodded.
“Oh, no. No, no, no.” I grabbed a hank of my hair and pulled it in front of my face. It was a colorless brown, the noncolor of tree bark and faded dye jobs. “No.” Dropping the hair, I felt for my ear, and breathed a sigh of relief. It was still pointed. Less than it should have been, but enough that I knew I hadn’t turned myself completely human.
“It’ll be okay,” said Jin awkwardly. She patted me on the shoulder. “We’ll figure something out. We always do.”
“So what, I’m addicted to something that’s killed every changeling who’s ever tasted it, and my body is trying to turn itself human so it can enjoy dying more, and we’re going to ‘figure something out’?” I glowered at her, glad to have something to focus my ire on. “How’s that going to work?”
“I didn’t say it would be easy, now, did I?” Jin stood. “I’m going to go let everyone know that you’re awake. When you decide to get dressed—against my recommendation, but that’s never stopped you before—there are clean clothes in the top drawer of the bureau. But I really wish you’d stay in bed.” With that, she was gone, shutting the door behind herself.
Jin was probably right: I needed to stay in bed. I needed to keep moving even more. The Queen had sent the man who hit me with that pie. I knew that was true, even if the Karen I’d seen in my dreams turned out to have been a goblin fruit-induced hallucination. The Queen was scared of me. It was the only explanation. And as to why she hadn’t killed me . . .
Killing me would have been like killing Nolan. Elf-shot took an opponent out of the picture for a century. Getting me addicted to goblin fruit proved that I was incapable of resisting temptation, turning me into someone to be pitied, not rallied behind. She didn’t want a martyr, and so she was trying to discredit me in a way my critics would believe.
“To hell with that,” I muttered. I licked my palm again, worrying the last flecks of drying blood loose with my tongue, and reached as deep into myself as I could, looking for the place where my fae and mortal heritages met. It was hard, slow work, like trying to swim through quicksand, but I found it, an intangible line drawn across the substance of my self.
I had done this before. Never intentionally to myself, but on Gillian, when I turned her mortal, and on Chelsea, when I turned her fae. I knew how the process worked. Reminding myself of that as firmly as I could, I gathered the tatters of my magic and wrapped my mental hands around the line, yanking hard.
The pain was immediate and intense. The line didn’t budge, but I did, falling off the bed as I screamed, clawing at my own head in an effort to make the hurting stop. It didn’t help. I kept screaming, and was still screaming when the door slammed open and Sylvester was there, gathering me into his arms.
“October!” He cradled me, looking back toward what I could only assume was Jin. “What’s wrong with her? Fix her!”
“I can’t.” Jin stepped into view behind him. I barely noticed. I was too busy screaming. “The air smells like her magic. Just a little, but enough that I think I know what happened. Toby! Did you try to shift your blood?” My screams must have been answer enough. “She only stopped sliding toward human when she got too weak to change herself that way. If she tried to do it on purpose . . . no wonder she’s screaming. She doesn’t have the strength to do that, especially not with the goblin fruit still in her system.”
“So get it out of her system!”
“Your Grace, if I knew how to do that, I would be rich beyond even your wildest dreams, and have a Duchy of my very own.”
“Shit,” I mumbled, against the flesh of my own hand.
Footsteps came running down the hall outside my door before it banged open. I tilted my head back and saw a woman I didn’t recognize standing there, hands braced against the doorframe. She had the body of a 1940s pinup girl and the hair of a Disney princess, platinum blonde, shoulder-length, and just wavy enough to make it interesting to animate. She also had a pair of frantically beating mayfly’s wings growing from her shoulders.
“Toby!” she shouted. She hurried forward, helping me off the floor. Her wings provided just enough lift to make the process possible. I doubt she could have moved me on her own.
“Hi, Jin,” I said, leaning on her and allowing myself to be moved. My knees still hurt, and my palms were still bleeding. That didn’t strike me as a good sign. “Recent molt, huh?” Jin was an Ellyllon, a type of hedonistic fae who often worked as healers, since they were better acquainted with the body than almost anyone else. That meant, among other things, that she periodically changed her entire physical appearance. She didn’t have any control over the process, but the results were always interesting.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been blonde,” she said, taking her arms away once she was sure I was steady. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit in the face with an evil pie.” I opened my eyes, panic lancing through me. “Where’s Quentin? He was with me.”
“He’s here,” said Jin. “I made him wait in the ballroom when he wouldn’t stop pacing. Sylvester came back from Goldengreen once we realized what was happening to you. He’s been with your squire in the ballroom since.” As the Duke’s personal physician, Jin was one of the few people who could order Sylvester Torquill around his own knowe.
I nodded shakily, looking down at my bleeding palms. “This is bad, huh?”
“You could say that.” Jin placed the back of her hand against my forehead. “You’re not running a fever. That’s a good sign.”
“What are you talking about? It’s a drug, not a disease.”
“Yes, except that your body seemed to treat it as a combination of the two. Goblin fruit is tricky, Toby, and you have the power to make it . . . better . . . for yourself.”
From the way she said “better,” I didn’t think she was referring to the process of kicking my unwanted habit. “What do you mean?”
“Humans enjoy goblin fruit more than fae do. It’s part of why it kills them. It’s why it kills changelings, too, although it takes longer. You may be the only changeling who’s ever tasted the stuff and had the power to make things . . . more enjoyable.”
I stared at her.
Slowly, Jin nodded.
“Oh, no. No, no, no.” I grabbed a hank of my hair and pulled it in front of my face. It was a colorless brown, the noncolor of tree bark and faded dye jobs. “No.” Dropping the hair, I felt for my ear, and breathed a sigh of relief. It was still pointed. Less than it should have been, but enough that I knew I hadn’t turned myself completely human.
“It’ll be okay,” said Jin awkwardly. She patted me on the shoulder. “We’ll figure something out. We always do.”
“So what, I’m addicted to something that’s killed every changeling who’s ever tasted it, and my body is trying to turn itself human so it can enjoy dying more, and we’re going to ‘figure something out’?” I glowered at her, glad to have something to focus my ire on. “How’s that going to work?”
“I didn’t say it would be easy, now, did I?” Jin stood. “I’m going to go let everyone know that you’re awake. When you decide to get dressed—against my recommendation, but that’s never stopped you before—there are clean clothes in the top drawer of the bureau. But I really wish you’d stay in bed.” With that, she was gone, shutting the door behind herself.
Jin was probably right: I needed to stay in bed. I needed to keep moving even more. The Queen had sent the man who hit me with that pie. I knew that was true, even if the Karen I’d seen in my dreams turned out to have been a goblin fruit-induced hallucination. The Queen was scared of me. It was the only explanation. And as to why she hadn’t killed me . . .
Killing me would have been like killing Nolan. Elf-shot took an opponent out of the picture for a century. Getting me addicted to goblin fruit proved that I was incapable of resisting temptation, turning me into someone to be pitied, not rallied behind. She didn’t want a martyr, and so she was trying to discredit me in a way my critics would believe.
“To hell with that,” I muttered. I licked my palm again, worrying the last flecks of drying blood loose with my tongue, and reached as deep into myself as I could, looking for the place where my fae and mortal heritages met. It was hard, slow work, like trying to swim through quicksand, but I found it, an intangible line drawn across the substance of my self.
I had done this before. Never intentionally to myself, but on Gillian, when I turned her mortal, and on Chelsea, when I turned her fae. I knew how the process worked. Reminding myself of that as firmly as I could, I gathered the tatters of my magic and wrapped my mental hands around the line, yanking hard.
The pain was immediate and intense. The line didn’t budge, but I did, falling off the bed as I screamed, clawing at my own head in an effort to make the hurting stop. It didn’t help. I kept screaming, and was still screaming when the door slammed open and Sylvester was there, gathering me into his arms.
“October!” He cradled me, looking back toward what I could only assume was Jin. “What’s wrong with her? Fix her!”
“I can’t.” Jin stepped into view behind him. I barely noticed. I was too busy screaming. “The air smells like her magic. Just a little, but enough that I think I know what happened. Toby! Did you try to shift your blood?” My screams must have been answer enough. “She only stopped sliding toward human when she got too weak to change herself that way. If she tried to do it on purpose . . . no wonder she’s screaming. She doesn’t have the strength to do that, especially not with the goblin fruit still in her system.”
“So get it out of her system!”
“Your Grace, if I knew how to do that, I would be rich beyond even your wildest dreams, and have a Duchy of my very own.”
