The Replacement (22 page)
Authors: Brenna Yovanoff
Alice was saying my name, but I couldn't answer. The party seemed to be happening a million miles away from me, in another country. Another universe. There was just the ground and the railing and nothing else.
"He's tanked," Roswell said from somewhere above me, and then I felt his hand between my shoulders. "Shit, he's completely gone."
"Should we get him some water?" said Alice, and I kept my eyes closed, leaning on the railing as the cold got worse and then the shaking started.
Roswell stood next to me with his hand on the back of my neck. "It's cool, don't worry about it. I'll make sure he gets home okay."
"Yeah, that might be a good idea," Alice said, and the tone of her voice was flat and far away. "Jesus, that's nasty."
I was aware of certain things, that Roswell was holding me up, making me walk to his car. Stopping and letting me lean down so I could heave into the gravel. He dropped me into the passenger seat, cranked the window down, and closed the door.
Then he got in and started the car, glancing over at me.
"What's wrong?" His voice was loud, so sharp that he sounded angry.
I knew I should be careful, keep the secret, but I was too far gone to talk around it. My chest was working in huge spasms and I could barely breathe. "I kissed her."
"And then you went into anaphylactic shock?"
I closed my eyes and let the rain patter against my face through the open window. "She has her tongue pierced."
Roswell didn't say anything else. He jerked the car into reverse and swung out of the parking lot, then turned down the bumpy stretch of dirt that led out to the main road. I slumped in the passenger seat, resting my head against the door and trying not to puke in his car.
Somewhere in the sickness and the pain, I remembered Luther's voice. It echoed in my head, that whispered declaration,
You're dying
. Before the ruinous kiss, the night had been almost normal, but it couldn't last. There
was
no normal. Not for people like me.
You're dying
. Before the ruinous kiss, the night had been almost normal, but it couldn't last. There
was
no normal. Not for people like me.
Out on the paved road, Roswell started asking questions again, sounding more agitated than ever. He was talking too fast, making it hard to follow the line of conversation. "Okay, what should I be doing? If you need to pull over, just tell me. Should I find you some water? Should I call Emma, tell her I'm bringing you home right now and you look like hell?"
"Take me to the dead end at Orchard."
Roswell took a deep breath, sounding rigidly calm. "Okay, you're slurring. Say that again, because it sounded like you just asked for something completely insane."
"You have to take me to the end of Orchard. I have to go to the slag heap."
CHAPTER TWENTY
HORRIBLE LITTLE WORLD
R
oswell parked at the top of the ravine and opened his door. In the glare of the dome light, I saw his face, hollowed by shadows and so rigid and watchful I barely recognized him.
oswell parked at the top of the ravine and opened his door. In the glare of the dome light, I saw his face, hollowed by shadows and so rigid and watchful I barely recognized him.
I expected an argument, but he just pulled me out of the car and steered me down the path to the bridge. I reflected dully that he was a good friend, if you could call leaving someone half conscious alone on a bridge being a good friend.
As soon as I reached the bottom of the ravine, I felt desperately relieved. And much, much worse. I knelt in the mud, pressing my forehead against the wet slag, whispering for Carlina, Janice, anyone. When the door materialized out of the gravel, I slumped against it and fell inside.
The way down was choppy and disconnected, a series of slides that froze for a second and then switched over. Then I was back in the cavernous lobby, in the House of Mayhem, and I had the deep hopeless feeling that I was never going to get away from their horrible little world. My world. I had no place else to go.
The Morrigan was on the floor by the reception desk, running a little tin train back and forth across the stone. She glanced up when I stumbled into the lobby, and I knew then, from the look on her face, that it was bad. She jumped up, kicking the train out of her way, and came tearing across the room to me.
She grabbed my hand and tugged so hard I almost fell. "Goodness, what happened? Who did this?"
I shook my head, too far gone to explain that I was way more at fault than anyone else.
The Morrigan let me go and ran back to the desk. She opened the top drawer and pulled out a heavy brass bell. She held it over her head, ringing it and shouting, "Janice!" She went to one of the doorways, still clanging the bell, and I had a half-formed thought that I might black out from the noise. "Janice! Bring the exigency serum and the needle."
Then Janice was there, reaching for my arm, pushing back the sleeve of my jacket. "Here, keep still."
I steadied myself and tried to focus. She was holding a syringe, but instead of a steel needle, it was fitted with a brass tip that looked too heavy to pierce the skin. I realized with a numb fascination that she was going to stick me anyway, but my head was throbbing and I couldn't work up the kind of mental investment it took to care.
I had to lean against the reception desk just to stay upright. Janice positioned the syringe, placing the tip against the inside of my elbow and driving it in. A hot pain radiated up my arm as she pushed the plunger down. The serum was a deep brown, rushing out of the syringe and into my blood, burning as it went. I closed my eyes, tipping my head back as the pain peaked and then rolled off. Janice pulled the needle out and I started to shake. The feelings that came next were weak knees and dizziness, unpleasant but familiar. I sank down onto the floor.
Janice put away the syringe, and after a second, I could focus. She was standing over me in her romper and a long, embroidered bathrobe. Her hair was half up and half down, like she'd been asleep.
"I didn't mean to wake you up," I muttered, leaning back against the desk. "Thanks for the shot. I feel better now."
She crouched down, taking my face between her hands and staring into my eyes like she was checking my pupils. Then she yanked my mouth open and shook her head. "Are you
trying
to kill yourself? What the bloody blue devil have you been putting in your mouth?" She turned to the Morrigan, who was still standing rigidly by the desk, holding her bell. "He needs to lie down. Put him someplace quiet."
trying
to kill yourself? What the bloody blue devil have you been putting in your mouth?" She turned to the Morrigan, who was still standing rigidly by the desk, holding her bell. "He needs to lie down. Put him someplace quiet."
I'd never heard anyone in the House of Mayhem talk to the Morrigan that way, like they'd talk to a servant or a little kid, but she just nodded and took my hand. Hers was so warm that I almost couldn't stand it. She pulled me toward one of the narrow doorways and led me down a dark hall.
The room was a high-ceilinged bedroom, and I knew that it had to be hers. The floor was covered with a flowery green rug and there was a big four-story dollhouse in one corner, but most of the room was taken up with a giant canopied bed.
"Here," she said, pulling back the covers. "Rest here."
I sank onto the bed in my wet jacket and my muddy shoes, shivering and turning on my side.
The Morrigan stood over me. "Are you ever going to learn that you have certain limitations? You can get along in the world, you can survive, but you can't be like them. I don't have a serum or a tonic for that. It doesn't matter how you abuse yourself. You'll never be able to live the same life they do."
I didn't point out the absurdity of Them. Everyone in Gentry was a member of Them, but so was everyone in the House of Mayhem. I was the only one who was not a part of Them. I was just a wayward stranger, outside all of it.
"I don't want the same life as everyone else," I whispered, and my voice sounded breathless and ragged. "I just want to live
my
life."
my
life."
"Well, you need the analeptic for that, and you need to start paying more mind to your health. You've been very careless with yourself, but you're here now, you're safe, and we intend to take good care of you."
The Morrigan took out a handkerchief and dipped it in a bowl of water by the bed. She wiped my face, scrubbing at the waxy streaks from Alice's whiskers.
Then she leaned close and whispered in my ear. "I thought my sister had done this to you. I saw you there at the door and I thought that she'd summoned the Cutter and ruined you."
I shook my head, trying to tell her that nothing was anyone's fault. That no one had ruined me.
"I loved my sister," she said, wiping my eyelids with the handkerchief. The water was cold and smelled like pond scum and dead leaves, but it felt nice against my face. I was starting to think that maybe I
was
home, even if it was a weird, creepy home where I didn't want to live. Her hands were small and careful. "I loved her so much, but in the end, I couldn't support her. Is it hypocritical to love a person and still find fault with their actions?"
was
home, even if it was a weird, creepy home where I didn't want to live. Her hands were small and careful. "I loved her so much, but in the end, I couldn't support her. Is it hypocritical to love a person and still find fault with their actions?"
I blinked away the water and didn't answer. The question didn't make sense. There weren't rules or instructions when it came to loving someone.
"I did a bad thing," the Morrigan whispered, climbing onto the bed and settling herself on my shins.
The room was soft at the edges, swimming in and out of focus, and above me, the canopy seemed to go on and on. I felt numb, like whatever Janice had injected me with might have taken care of the pain, but it made me dim and stupid, too drugged-up to function.
The Morrigan wriggled up to lie beside me on the pillow. "My sister takes children sometimes. Not for any real purpose, but just to keep them. She might take one because it's pretty or because it amuses her. And she took a girl, this lovely, clever little girl, and raised her as a toy."
I couldn't follow everything, but I got the part where somehow, the Morrigan thought keeping kids as pets was worse than taking kids to kill them. I closed my eyes, picturing a little girl with a blue church dress and blond hair. The image was faded and familiar, marked with creases like it had been folded, but my head was full of white lights and echoes, and I couldn't quite place it.
The Morrigan twirled the handkerchief, trailing the corner of it over my face. "I took her back. I went to my sister's rooms, deep into the House of Misery, and I took her. I brought her back to her family. It was the right thing to do, but my sister loathes me for it. The lake went dry shortly after and then came right back to devil us in the tunnels. She leeches all the joy from the town and sends rain." The Morrigan leaned close to my ear and there was a low, earnest sadness in her voice. "I betrayed her, and now we are estranged. She will punish me for the rest of my life, for one little girl."
I nodded, keeping my eyes closed. The damp cloth was cold on my face and I knew where the faded picture came from. I'd seen it a thousand times in the front hall, every time I passed the glass-fronted cabinet with the Dutch figurines and the teacups.
"My mother," I said, and my voice sounded harsh and unfamiliar, like someone else was whispering in my ear.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
BLESSED
I
woke up in the dark, sprawled on the Morrigan's four-poster bed with the blankets tangled around my legs. The smell of the sheets was musty and unfamiliar, like the air in a strange attic.
woke up in the dark, sprawled on the Morrigan's four-poster bed with the blankets tangled around my legs. The smell of the sheets was musty and unfamiliar, like the air in a strange attic.
When my eyes adjusted, I began to sort out objects. There was the giant dollhouse and, over in another corner, a heavy dresser with a hinged mirror. The Morrigan was asleep next to me, curled up with her thumb in her mouth and a filthy-looking doll clutched against her chest. Her hair had fallen back from her face and she looked uncommonly peaceful, like a little kid.
I untangled myself from the blankets and swung my feet down onto the floor. The inside of my arm still stung where Janice had stuck me with the syringe, but I felt better than I usually did after a reaction and much better than I had any right to, considering I'd recently had Alice's tongue stud in my mouth.
I left the Morrigan asleep in her massive bed and made my way back out through the lobby, up the corridor and into the rain.
When I got to Roswell's house, the porch light was off and his car was in the driveway. It was way past midnight and the ground floor was dark, but there was a light in his window. I stood in his mom's flower border, in the shadow of the garage, and texted him to come down.
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