Late Eclipses
Page 60
She wasn’t wearing a human disguise—she usually didn’t when we were alone—and her impossible beauty was entirely out-of-place against her blue cotton dress and sensible shoes. Offering a small smile, she said, “Hello, my darling girl.”
“Quick question before you start with the crazy—are you real, or a really lousy dream?” I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to hug her or hit her. Amandine has a gift for making me feel that way.
“I’m afraid that’s up to you.”
“Of course it is.” I sighed. “Where are we?”
“We’re . . . waiting.” She looked at me sadly. “I tried to spare you when I could, but I wasn’t fast enough.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s time to make a choice, October. More importantly, it’s time for you to choose. I won’t force you one way or the other.” Her lips drew down in a small grimace. “No one can. Not anymore.”
“You’d think I might hallucinate something more pleasant than a lecture from you, you know,” I said. “Tybalt in those leather pants would be a nice start.”
“What makes you think you’re hallucinating?”
She had me there. “I got hit with elf-shot. Pretty sure that’s fatal, and since you’re not Karen, pretty sure this isn’t real.”
“Reality aside, do you want it to be fatal? Are you ready to go?”
It was sort of funny. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about death—it’s hard not to when you spend so much time either running toward or away from it—but I’d never considered whether I’d be ready when it came. “Not really. But I don’t think I have much of a choice.”
Amandine shook her head. The air around her seemed to freeze, catching the beams of the Cheshire cat moon and holding them suspended in a sphere of slowly expanding unreality. “This is the choice. You’ve made it at least three times, even when I tried to stop you, but the only time you admit to is the one that happened the day after you saw this moon for the first time. Remember?”
“I don’t understand.” I folded my arms. “You know, I don’t appreciate being ignored for years and then having you show up in my hallucinations.”
She didn’t answer. She just sighed, expression growing even sadder as she walked to the windowsill and rested her hands against it.
“Mother?” No reply. “Mom. This isn’t funny.” Still no reply. I walked over to stand next to her. I had to rise up onto my tiptoes in order to peer out the window. “What are you looking at?”
“The moon. See?” A smile ghosted over her lips. “Do you remember what your father called the moon when it looked like that?”
I nodded. “Cheshire cat moon.”
“A smile without a cat.”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” I said. “Mom, please. Can you just talk straight for once in your life? I’m not in the mood for riddles.”
“Is it down the rabbit hole again, darling, or will you be a good girl this time and stay where you can be found for marmalade and tea?” Amandine’s voice was sad and distant; her eyes stayed on the moon. “It’s up to you. It’s always been up to you, even when I thought it could be up to me. But you’re choosing for keeps this time; you’re choosing to stop deceiving yourself. Out of the tower now, no more protection for Daddy’s precious princesses.”
“What—”
“No.” Her voice was like a whip cracking through the air. “Choose. No more arguments. No more letting me lie to you. Choose.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You didn’t understand the first time either, and you chose then.”
I dropped back to the soles of my feet, looking around the room. The shadows had deepened, twisting my toys into strange new shapes. This wasn’t my childhood reality anymore. This was something new, sea-changed and wild, like a mirror reflection of what had really been. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”
“You have to choose.” There was no pity in her voice, no mercy; just a strange echo, like distant bells. My reflection in the window changed, growing taller, melting into my adult self before the lines of my flesh thinned and refined themselves, becoming something altogether different.
The face in the glass was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. It was too delicate, with sharply pointed ears and eyes that were even more colorless than before. Even my hair looked bleached, going from brown to a silvery ash-blonde. It was who I would have been if I’d been born a pureblood, immortal, bred to the faerie rides and the dark at the bottom of the garden path.
I’d never realized how much I look like my mother.
“It’s not too late,” she said. The bells were stronger now, layered with moonlight and madness. “This is your choice to make, and there are always other roads. Look.” Amandine gestured to the window. The glass cleared, reflection fading. I looked.
A second window had replaced the Cheshire cat moon, separated from ours by a few feet of empty space. It framed a second me, a frightened little girl in a toonew nightgown, standing next to her own version of Amandine. But this little girl and her mother were human, without fae strangeness or illusions.
“What is this?” I pressed my palm against the window. The other me did the same.
“This is the choice you can’t take back.” Amandine’s voice came from above and slightly behind me. The other Amandine’s lips moved in perfect time with the words. “If you take it, nothing you do will change the road you’re on.”
Swallowing hard, I asked, “What am I choosing?”
“Me or her, October. Humanity or fae.” There was a pause before she added, much more quietly, “Freedom or the crossroads burden.”
“The Changeling’s Choice?” I twisted around to face her, my hand still pressed against the glass. “I already made that choice.”
“Now you have to make it again.”
A second chance? “What happens if I pick the human road this time?” I asked. “What happens if I say I want to stay here?”
“If you choose that road, I’ll tuck you into bed, kiss you good night, and walk away. You’ll sleep, you’ll dream, and you’ll die. I don’t know whether it’ll hurt. I’ve never died of elf-shot.” She shook her head. “It probably won’t, if that helps your decision at all. You’ll just sleep until your heart stops.”
“Quick question before you start with the crazy—are you real, or a really lousy dream?” I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to hug her or hit her. Amandine has a gift for making me feel that way.
“I’m afraid that’s up to you.”
“Of course it is.” I sighed. “Where are we?”
“We’re . . . waiting.” She looked at me sadly. “I tried to spare you when I could, but I wasn’t fast enough.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s time to make a choice, October. More importantly, it’s time for you to choose. I won’t force you one way or the other.” Her lips drew down in a small grimace. “No one can. Not anymore.”
“You’d think I might hallucinate something more pleasant than a lecture from you, you know,” I said. “Tybalt in those leather pants would be a nice start.”
“What makes you think you’re hallucinating?”
She had me there. “I got hit with elf-shot. Pretty sure that’s fatal, and since you’re not Karen, pretty sure this isn’t real.”
“Reality aside, do you want it to be fatal? Are you ready to go?”
It was sort of funny. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about death—it’s hard not to when you spend so much time either running toward or away from it—but I’d never considered whether I’d be ready when it came. “Not really. But I don’t think I have much of a choice.”
Amandine shook her head. The air around her seemed to freeze, catching the beams of the Cheshire cat moon and holding them suspended in a sphere of slowly expanding unreality. “This is the choice. You’ve made it at least three times, even when I tried to stop you, but the only time you admit to is the one that happened the day after you saw this moon for the first time. Remember?”
“I don’t understand.” I folded my arms. “You know, I don’t appreciate being ignored for years and then having you show up in my hallucinations.”
She didn’t answer. She just sighed, expression growing even sadder as she walked to the windowsill and rested her hands against it.
“Mother?” No reply. “Mom. This isn’t funny.” Still no reply. I walked over to stand next to her. I had to rise up onto my tiptoes in order to peer out the window. “What are you looking at?”
“The moon. See?” A smile ghosted over her lips. “Do you remember what your father called the moon when it looked like that?”
I nodded. “Cheshire cat moon.”
“A smile without a cat.”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” I said. “Mom, please. Can you just talk straight for once in your life? I’m not in the mood for riddles.”
“Is it down the rabbit hole again, darling, or will you be a good girl this time and stay where you can be found for marmalade and tea?” Amandine’s voice was sad and distant; her eyes stayed on the moon. “It’s up to you. It’s always been up to you, even when I thought it could be up to me. But you’re choosing for keeps this time; you’re choosing to stop deceiving yourself. Out of the tower now, no more protection for Daddy’s precious princesses.”
“What—”
“No.” Her voice was like a whip cracking through the air. “Choose. No more arguments. No more letting me lie to you. Choose.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You didn’t understand the first time either, and you chose then.”
I dropped back to the soles of my feet, looking around the room. The shadows had deepened, twisting my toys into strange new shapes. This wasn’t my childhood reality anymore. This was something new, sea-changed and wild, like a mirror reflection of what had really been. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”
“You have to choose.” There was no pity in her voice, no mercy; just a strange echo, like distant bells. My reflection in the window changed, growing taller, melting into my adult self before the lines of my flesh thinned and refined themselves, becoming something altogether different.
The face in the glass was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. It was too delicate, with sharply pointed ears and eyes that were even more colorless than before. Even my hair looked bleached, going from brown to a silvery ash-blonde. It was who I would have been if I’d been born a pureblood, immortal, bred to the faerie rides and the dark at the bottom of the garden path.
I’d never realized how much I look like my mother.
“It’s not too late,” she said. The bells were stronger now, layered with moonlight and madness. “This is your choice to make, and there are always other roads. Look.” Amandine gestured to the window. The glass cleared, reflection fading. I looked.
A second window had replaced the Cheshire cat moon, separated from ours by a few feet of empty space. It framed a second me, a frightened little girl in a toonew nightgown, standing next to her own version of Amandine. But this little girl and her mother were human, without fae strangeness or illusions.
“What is this?” I pressed my palm against the window. The other me did the same.
“This is the choice you can’t take back.” Amandine’s voice came from above and slightly behind me. The other Amandine’s lips moved in perfect time with the words. “If you take it, nothing you do will change the road you’re on.”
Swallowing hard, I asked, “What am I choosing?”
“Me or her, October. Humanity or fae.” There was a pause before she added, much more quietly, “Freedom or the crossroads burden.”
“The Changeling’s Choice?” I twisted around to face her, my hand still pressed against the glass. “I already made that choice.”
“Now you have to make it again.”
A second chance? “What happens if I pick the human road this time?” I asked. “What happens if I say I want to stay here?”
“If you choose that road, I’ll tuck you into bed, kiss you good night, and walk away. You’ll sleep, you’ll dream, and you’ll die. I don’t know whether it’ll hurt. I’ve never died of elf-shot.” She shook her head. “It probably won’t, if that helps your decision at all. You’ll just sleep until your heart stops.”
