Elixir (26 page)

I must have exhaled a little too loudly, because she whirled around.

And then in a fraction of a moment, her glamour was up again. She was a stunningly beautiful woman now, her face a flawless mask of perfection. Chiseled cheekbones, delicate nose, opalescent eyes burning cold fire, pert marble bosom, standing in a gown twinkling with black raven rainbows.

“Mab!” She walked towards me, the feathers of her skirt rustling across the gleaming polished crystal floor. It was transparent; you could see through the floor down into the room below—the effect made me dizzy.

“Your M . . .” I stopped myself, and then said awkwardly, “I mean, um . . .” I couldn’t say it.
Mom
.

“Mother,” I muttered. The word sounded thick and awkward on my tongue.

The Queen’s face broke out into a beaming smile, and I could tell even through all her glamour that she was ecstatic to hear me call her that.

“Forgive me, I wasn’t expecting you,” she said. “I mean, I’m very glad you are here.” She beamed. “I just hadn’t put my face on yet.”

I nodded. When human women said they hadn’t put their face on, they didn’t mean it quite so literally.

“I came to check on my friend Eva.”

The Queen’s smile faltered.

Then I realized how harsh that had sounded. She thought I’d come just to visit her.

“She’s still under the sleep spell,” the Queen said quickly.

“I know, but I’d like to see her again,” I said. Truth be told, I just didn’t want to be alone with the Queen, my mother, right now.

“As you wish.”

She led me into another room.

Eva was lying inside the cocoon, her eyelids twitching in dreams.

I wished I could tell her about what happened last night. I bet Eva could give me some advice about Obadiah. More than anything, I just wanted to be able to talk to her. The cocoon rocked in the breeze from an open window. Eva twitched but didn’t wake up.

“What is this cocoon thing you have her in? I didn’t think that was necessary for a sleep spell,” I said. The shimmering white fibers made me think somehow of Eva’s hospital bed back in New York City. I didn’t want anything to remind me of that.

“It was more expedient,” said the Queen. “We make these cocoons to store the children in. Not that your friend is like those children, of course,” the Queen added quickly, seeing the horrified expression on my face. “We could have put her under the sleep spell without one, but occasionally humans sleepwalk, and we wanted to keep her nicely confined.”

“I really don’t think that was necessary.”

“It was just more expedient,” she said quietly.

Still, I was troubled. Maybe this wasn’t a normal sleep spell she’d put Eva in. Surely my mother wouldn’t kill Eva? She had no reason to. She knew Eva was important to me. What if she had no plans to ever let Eva go; what if she continued to hold her like collateral to keep me in the Vale, keep me beholden to her?

I turned to the Queen, who was regarding me with expectant eyes.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like a moment alone with my friend,” I said again.

The Queen opened her mouth as if to protest, but then must have thought better of it, because she nodded.

“As you wish,” she said again, though I could tell by her tone she wasn’t thrilled about this. “I will be in the next room, if you need me.” She smiled hopefully.

CHAPTER 19

I
exhaled a long sigh after the Queen left. I couldn’t help it; I still felt nervous around her.
She’s your mother,
I reminded myself. But it didn’t feel right. My mother was Beverley Jones. Hell, even my bear nurse, Ursaline, had been more of a mother to me than the Queen had ever been.
It’s not like she’s your birth mother anymore,
I told myself. My genes were the genes of Mabily Jones.
But what if you take the Queen up on her offer and become a Fey again?
the little voice in my head whispered.
Then you’ll be flesh of her flesh, magic of her magic.
The thought terrified me. If I was truly the Queen’s daughter—was I going to become like her someday? Was I going to turn into the kind of person who killed people, who imprisoned them and tortured them because it was “expedient”? If I was the Queen’s daughter, did I have the seeds of that Machiavellian evil lying dormant inside me?

I looked at Eva in her translucent cocoon. I wanted to talk to her so badly. Eva was the first one I went to when something was on my mind, when I felt overwhelmed and just wanted someone to listen and then offer some common-sense advice. She would have something wise and sensible to say—she always did.

I watched her, wondering what she was dreaming about in there. She stirred a little in her sleep, her head shifted, and I heard her let out a long exhale. But I knew she wouldn’t wake up; the spell would prevent that. Her face twitched, grimacing. Perhaps her dreams were growing troubled.

I walked around the cocoon. It was hung like a hammock from the center of the ceiling, so I could walk in a complete circle around it. Eva’s body had gone still, so still that I was worried for a second she wasn’t breathing. I leaned close to the cocoon, peering inside, my heart in my mouth. There was a faint mist on the cocoon fibers, enough for me to see that she was alive. I didn’t like to see her so still like this. Eva was always in motion, her face showing her every thought. And seeing her prostrate just reminded me of seeing her in the hospital room. Eva’s Fetch was still lying in that bed, deteriorating by the day. We needed to get her back.

As I looked at her blank face, a thought kept haunting me. The Queen knew I didn’t entirely trust her yet, that I didn’t feel comfortable accepting her as my mother, and might not for a long time. Eva’s imprisonment could be her way of keeping me here, knowing I wouldn’t leave my friend. The thought made me angry.

But how could I find out? I couldn’t trust the Queen to tell me. I couldn’t trust my own senses, as a human, to know the difference—and I could no longer do my own detection spell. I wished Obadiah was here to help me, but he wasn’t.

There was only one way to know.

I had to try to wake her up. If I could wake her up, it was just a sleep spell. If I couldn’t, she’d been put in some much more serious magical paralysis, and if that was the case, then I was going to march back in to my birth mother and raise some hell.

I heard the Queen’s voice in my head.
Your friend is safe here in her cocoon. You must understand—tiny human minds can’t handle seeing our world. It would be too much for them. It’s better to let her sleep
.

But I wasn’t sure the Queen was right. “Tiny human minds . . .” The Queen had a pretty prejudiced view of people. I was human, and my head hadn’t exploded just because I was in the Vale. I gazed down at Eva, her eyes moving beneath her lids. All her life she’d wanted to travel, wanted to see other places, wanted adventure and never had the chance. If she found out that she’d been in Fairyland and never gotten to see it—she’d be pissed! She’d be pissed at me for not waking her up—and maybe she’d be right. She deserved the chance to see the Crystal Spires, the Animalia, the House Trees, and see the fairies dancing like fireflies. And then we’d go home.

What if she doesn’t want to go home with you? What if she wants to stay here?
the little voice in my head whispered.

But if she didn’t go home, her Fetch body would die—she would die, and never be able to get back to the human world. Surely, that would be enough to make Eva go back. She knew her family would miss her terribly. As marvelous as I was sure she’d find the Vale, I knew she’d eventually want to go home.

I reached out gingerly to touch the cocoon. As soon as my fingers brushed it I drew back and winced. It was like touching a spiderweb, leaving a crawling sensation on my hands. What had the Queen made this out of? I’d seen the Queen wear spider-silk gowns—she was probably the only one who could tolerate that kind of texture on her skin all the time.

But if I was going to get Eva out, I needed to get over my squeamishness.

I reached my hand out again, forcing myself to touch the crawling fibers. I tried to thrust my hand inside, even as everything in me wanted to draw my hand away.

But I couldn’t get through the cocoon. The dent my fingers had made in the fibers was quickly absorbed, as if the cocoon was some kind of living thing. What the hell had the Queen done to Eva? I was pissed now. I jammed both hands into the cocoon, trying to rip the fibers apart, but the instant I made an opening it knitted itself back together again.

Inside, Eva didn’t even stir.

I pushed the cocoon, rocking it harder and higher back and forth, like a hammock out of control.

But that seemed to have no effect.

“Eva!” I called out as I tried to reach my fingers far enough in to touch her. But I couldn’t, and the sound of her name had no effect either.

She went right on sleeping.

It wasn’t natural, this sleep she was in. She might as well be in a coma.

I put my head in my hands. What the hell had the Queen done to her?

I was about to turn away, march back into the other room and ask my birth mother to undo whatever the hell spell she’d put on Eva and demand she take her out. I was her daughter. Surely she could do that for me?

But I stopped. I had an idea, something I could do on my own without involving my birth mother.

I reached my hand into the pocket of my jeans. The little flask of Elixir that Obadiah had given me was still in there, right where I’d put it yesterday, its metal surface cold to the touch. I might not have him anymore, but I had the Elixir.

I drew out the flask. It shone in the light that streamed through the transparent walls of the crystal tower. The only thing that Obadiah had given me.

I held it in my hands for a moment, thinking.

I couldn’t sing any spell, being human. If I drank some, it might make me levitate again, but that wouldn’t help me get Eva out. What could I do?

Unscrewing the cap, I opened the flask. The just-before-a-thunderstorm smell of magic filled the air of the small room.

I jiggled the liquid back and forth, trying to judge how much Elixir was inside. Not much. Maybe a few tablespoons. But still, it was better than nothing.

What would happen if I poured some Elixir onto the cocoon? Would it make it easier to break into? Or would the magic make the cocoon twice as thick? There was no way to know.

The only thing I could do was just try and see.

I closed my eyes. I might not be able to sing a spell or do any of my old Fey magic. But I could hold an intention in my mind as I held the flask of Elixir in my hand. Could that alone direct the flow of magic, make the fickle Elixir do what I wanted? I hoped it would be enough.

Please,
I whispered, clutching the flask, eyes closed, my head bowed over Eva’s sleeping body.
Let the Elixir melt away the cocoon. Let Eva awaken alive and unharmed. Help me to free my friend. Help me to bring her home.

Giving the flask a squeeze between my clasped hands, I poured a few drops onto the cocoon and waited, my heart in my mouth.

The Elixir made a hissing sound as it hit the cocoon’s fibers. A mist rose up. Was it mist or smoke? I couldn’t tell, and for a second I was terrified that it might be on fire—I saw the fibers curling up, falling away—oh no, was the Elixir eating into the cocoon like some kind of acid or flame—was it going to burn Eva?

But as the cocoon fell away entirely around Eva’s face, I could see she was unharmed.

I reached out and touched her. Her skin was warm.

As my fingertips brushed her cheek, her eyes popped open.

“Mab?” she said, sounding surprised and slightly groggy.

“You’re okay!” I reached down and wrapped my arms around her in an enveloping hug. I couldn’t even feel the tickling fibers of the cocoon anymore, I was just so glad to see her.

“Where am I? What is this?” I heard Eva say. Our eyes met. “Where the hell am I, Mab?”

Oh no. How the hell was I going to explain to Eva where she really was? Crap—this was why the Queen had urged me to keep her asleep. Would she believe me if I told her the truth? But what other explanation was there?

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” I said. “I’m not sure even where to begin . . .”

Eva looked at me, wide-eyed.

“Listen, Mab,” she said. “I don’t know what is going on. I feel like I’m wrapped in a spiderweb—and we’re inside a clear-glass skyscraper, but it smells like a thunderstorm—and maybe I’m dreaming or hallucinating, but if you’re really here, Mab—you’re my best friend. We’ve always told each other everything. You can talk to me. You can tell me what’s going on. We’ve never kept secrets from each other.”

“But I have kept secrets from you, Eva,” I said, a lump in my throat.

She stared up at me, not understanding.

“There were things I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t know how. I was afraid you’d think I was crazy. I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me. Well, now, I guess it’s time for me to come clean.”