by Ryan La Sala
“Maybe no one has ever told you this, and maybe no one ever will, and so I will be the one: I forgive you. Whatever sins they say about you, they are forgotten in my eyes. I see you not as what they made you, but as you wish to be. I hope you can forgive me, too. And I hope you can forgive Katherine.”
Helena collected herself, all shaking breaths and wet cheeks. She scooped up her belongings, kissed Kane on the cheek, and she was gone.
She’d taken the whistle, Kane’s only hope, but she’d also relieved him of something else. A heaviness in him that he didn’t know he harbored, a layer of leaden dread that had shaped itself around his heart. Teary streaks cooled his face, and he pushed the emotion down and away.
She had given Kane something, too. The answer to the question he had been asking this reverie since he’d awoken. And the answer was: Ursula was horribly, devastatingly, and dangerously wrong about the way this reverie should end.
• Eighteen •
BREAKING
The ballroom rocked with a waltz.
Kane’s eyes throbbed in the new brightness, searching for Sophia’s golden dress in the swirling crowd. He had to find her, to protect her. He had to find Ursula, to stop her. Dean was right; he couldn’t just keep running. He had to do something.
Dancers jumped out of his way as he pushed through the crowd. A hand found his and before he even realized what happened, a body was in his arms.
“Sophia is here, but don’t worry. She is safe,” Adeline whispered, grasping Kane’s shoulder with her other hand. A convincing smile brushed her painted lips. “Don’t look for her. You’ll twist it again if you don’t calm down.”
Adeline was breathtaking in a lilac gown. In some places it clung to her like wetness, and in others it drifted from her like steam. Her hair was in dual braids, like a crown, and from the choker around her throat hung a spiked pendant. It nestled in her cleavage, its spines dimpling her skin.
“One, two, three. One, two, three,” Adeline counted, guiding them in the turns of the dance. Nearby guests patronized them with bemused whispers.
Maybe if he kept his voice low, he could talk. “Helena is—”
“Don’t speak. Everything is being taken care of. We know Helena is playing the part of the youngest Beazley girl. We know what she’s up to. All we have to do is get Johan to meet her during the fireworks, so they can run off. Spin me on three-two-now.”
Kane spun her. They rejoined. Adeline’s eyes never left the crowd over Kane’s shoulder.
“Fortunately, Elliot appears to be playing Sir Johan. Go figure. Must be the jawline. I don’t know. That boy is prince-shaped all over, I bet. Anyways. Meet me in at the railing in a few minutes. Be sneaky.”
The dance ended and Adeline blessed Kane with a deep curtsey. She excused herself, grabbing a flute of champagne as she exited the ballroom. Kane took the long way around the crowd and out onto the patio where he found Adeline leaning against the railing, the champagne glass already downed.
“Adeline—”
“Shut up. Take my arm. No, the other way. Good. Okay, don’t rush, remember? We’re just strolling. Just strolling. Don’t talk. Ursula says you’re mute. Don’t mess this up, I swear to God if you do…”
She waved her empty glass at him menacingly. They descended into the garden, which was even more labyrinthine in the dark. Lanterns glowered, dying the lush hedges in rusty light so that the maze looked bathed in blood.
“I’m leaving you here. Don’t follow me. You’re not a main character; try not to change that.”
Kane needed her to listen. He grabbed at her gloved hand. Adeline mistook this as fear.
“Don’t worry. We know what we’re doing. I know what I’m doing. I’m the evil heartbreaker, Katherine Duval. That’s right. I’m that bitch, like I am in practically every one of these shit-ass reveries. Classic Bishop bad luck, my dad would say. It’s whatever. My point is I know what I’m doing. Now, stay put. We’ll grab you when it’s safe to unravel this.”
She vanished into the maze.
For the first time since entering the reverie, Kane was completely alone. He could run. He could go find Sophia. He could fight. Every option hung before him, holding him in place. He shook out his nerves. He clenched and unclenched his hands, eight times each.
What eventually drove Kane to action was not fear or even bravery. It was heartbreak.
The Others were wrong. This was not The Devil in the Lily. They should not be acting out the story of Helena and Johan. They should be revising it, because this was not the story of Helena and Katherine’s rivalry. It was the legend of their love.
Kane thought of the small house Maxine lived in, that he was sure Helena lived in, too. He thought of the second bedroom full of watercolor paintings doomed to fade under winter’s sun. Helena and Maxine were described as friends, but was that true? Or was “friend” just a lie the world told about two elderly women who chose to live together, away from everyone else, in their own world of wonder?
Kane thought of the house’s single bedroom. He thought of the gloomy, covert life so many queer people were forced to live as they found one another in a time and a world that could not adjust to them. He thought of secret meetings and secret names, and the secret sadness that grew like mold in the humidity of a life kept closed.
This reverie was not just dreams and whimsy, like Kane had thought. It was a person’s psychology, rendered in vivid fantasy. They had waltzed in the ballroom of an old woman’s loss and wandered the corridors of her grief. This party was her pain, this garden her purgatory, and they were just playing dress-up in it. Meddling, like it was a game.
No, it was worse than that. This reverie was Helena’s last resort, and they were about to ruin it all.
Kane ran under nets of frail moonlight pushing through the trellises, hurtling over bridges and brooks and stone walkways. Nearby there was a loud bang, and acrid smoke drifted on the sweet breeze. He followed it to its source: a courtyard hidden from the château by copses of thick willows, then stopped at the edge, breathless, to take in the developing scene.
Two horses stood in the shadows, Helena fussing with the saddles. In the center of the courtyard sat an elaborate spread of wire and tubes, like cannons. One was smoking, and small fires littered the scene. An older man lay off to the side, his mouth gagged and wrists bound.
“Helena, I’m here,” shouted Elliot as he strode gallantly into the courtyard.
Panic seized Kane, but not so much panic that he couldn’t notice how good Elliot looked in Regency-era formality. His coat was a deep green, and it strained over his broad chest and thick arms. Kane was paying close attention to his thighs when he remembered this was going to be a disaster.
Helena put herself between Elliot and the horses, her shock barely concealed.
“Johan, what are you doing here?”
“I heard the first firework and came to find you, my love.”
Elliot’s acting was very bad.
“It was an accident. Nothing more,” said Helena, glancing at the bound body, which Elliot had yet to see. “You’d better hurry to the patio. The guests are all watching from there.”
“You don’t want to watch, too?”
“No.” Helena stepped closer, keeping Elliot from advancing any farther. “I’ll be watching from here. I’m making sure they go off, according to plan. And they’re due to go off soon. So, please, won’t you join the other guests? It’s dangerous down here.”
Kane had to stop himself from jumping in. He would only make things worse, like last time, but couldn’t Elliot feel the electric revulsion in the air? It was sour against Kane’s senses, every bit of the reverie ready to rip Elliot apart if he did not leave. But he continued to smile as though he were the best possible gift Helena could be receiving.
“I am ready to face down any danger if it means being with you,” El
liot said, reaching for Helena’s hand.
“Get away from him.”
Adeline lurched into the scene, champagne glass hanging from her swaying form. She seemed much drunker now.
“Katherine!” Helena said, relieved.
“Get away from him, you whore,” slurred Adeline.
Helena froze. Kane waved frantically, but Adeline’s focus was tremendous. Unlike Elliot, she was a talented actor.
“That’s right, I know all about what you’ve done,” she said. “Who you really are. And to think you would try to run off, and leave your own family behind? You disgust me. You’re a disgrace upon your family’s name.”
Helena looked small enough to come apart in the wind.
“Why are you saying these things?”
Adeline cackled. “Why, dear rival? Because Johan is mine. And I am his.”
“You’re lying.”
“Oh? Am I?” Adeline circled her, kicking the boot of the bound man. “I see you’ve hijacked the fireworks and disposed of your own poor servant. I’m sure your father will come momentarily. Who do you think he’ll believe? Me, or his delinquent daughter who is determined to steal off in the night, masquerading as a boy, to lay with the first man who finds her unintimidating enough to—”
It was fast. Adeline spun away, the champagne flute smashing. Helena had slapped her, hard.
Adeline righted herself and thrust out the broken stem, rushing Helena. “I’ll kill you!”
And then Elliot shot Adeline. A single shot, to the stomach. It blew her back and into a tree, where she slid down in a mess of bloodied cloth.
“She won’t hurt you ever again,” Elliot said gallantly, believing he had successfully seen them through to the reverie’s resolution. “Now, let’s leave this place forever, my love.”
Helena pushed him away, stumbling over her suitcase and falling. He reached for her, his face a gentle smile, but it twisted as an unseen force dragged him back.
“You—you—” Helena convulsed. Only her eyes stayed steady, locked on the corpse of Katherine. “You killed her!”
“So that we could be together, my love.”
Around Kane the reverie convulsed, too, pitching so suddenly that even Elliot felt it. He looked around, unsure.
“You ruined it,” Helena said, her voice cracking apart. She pointed at Elliot, and one of the metal tubes bent toward him. “You ruined everything!”
Elliot didn’t even have time to put his hands up before the mortar went off. The firework was a blazing rocket, aimed at Elliot’s head. The deafening explosion put wind and fire into the willows, and for ten seconds the courtyard was a riot of sparks. Then, through the smoke, a wavering pink light pulsed.
Kane wasn’t sure what would be left of Elliot. Some prince-shaped bits of body and no more. But there he stood, safe behind the curved dome of a vibrant magic shield, its source the girl at his side.
Ursula.
“Augustine,” Helena seethed. “I should have known.”
The flaming garden surged with heat as the energy of the reverie went from anguish to anger, and Kane felt the twist taking shape. One by one the fireworks began to shoot up into the night.
“You said you would help me, but you’re just as bad as everyone else. Just as cruel. He killed her, Augustine.”
Her words choked off as she looked where Adeline’s body should have been. It was gone. So was the blood. Kane realized he had been watching one of Elliot’s illusions, which had worn off at the worst time. Adeline, sneaking away, stood exposed in the flashes from above.
Helena couldn’t make sense of it. “What is this? A trick? What’s going on? Who are you people? Tell me!”
“Adeline,” Elliot said through gritted teeth. “Do something.”
Adeline’s eyes went gray, her corrosive telepathy firing up as booms shook the ground. As though reflexive, a mortar swiveled toward her.
“Adeline! Look out!”
The words left Kane’s mouth before he could stop them, but Adeline heard him. She threw herself down as the firework whistled into the trees. In the aftershock, Helena’s eyes found Kane.
“Willard, you, too?”
Whatever heartbreak Kane had felt on her behalf before, she felt now as the characters of her world turned against her one by one. As her world twisted beyond even her recognition. She groaned, clutching at her head. Dark pulses of energy bustled from her, burrowing through the garden and cracking apart the tree trunks. The sky crowded with clouds illuminated from within by cotton candy explosions as the fireworks continued to go off. Dry crinkling accompanied the garden’s rapid desiccation as all that had once been magnificent withered and grayed.
Elliot knelt by Adeline, dragging her back. Ursula was at Kane’s side.
“This is…a trap,” Helena spat. “Willard was in the nest. You’re all…after the eggs. This is a trap, isn’t it?”
“Eggs?” said Ursula. “There aren’t any eggs.”
“Katherine, too,” Helena sobbed, booms overtaking her small voice. She snatched up her case. “You can’t take them from me. I’ll never let you hurt them.”
“Them?” Ursula glanced at Elliot and Adeline. “This isn’t how it’s goes.”
“It’s too late,” Adeline said, wincing. She could barely keep her eyes open. “It’s ruined.”
“That’s right,” said Helena in a hollow voice. “It’s too late. It’s ruined. But at least we still have each other, right, my hatchlings?”
The case popped open, and up floated the four eggs Helena had been stealing. There was the blue and gold one, and the pink and pearl one. The diamond and garnet egg flared like a match in the firelight. Besides it bobbed the egg of milky opal.
“My beauties. My darlings,” cooed Helena. Her body flashed with dull light, as though she were the clouds obscuring the fireworks.
And here, Kane felt, came the twist. The remarkable maiming of Helena’s wondrous world was at hand. He sensed what Helena needed from her story now was not a resolution, but a very bloody revenge.
The eggs bulged, growing in size until they crowded the courtyard and pushed into the lower boughs of the flaming willows. Embers rained down from above, landing on the eggs and warming their precious metal shells.
Helena’s smoking body pressed between them, soaking the air with her malevolence toward the intruders.
There was a knock from within the blue egg, and suddenly a hole was punched open by a great and sparkling horn. Its lapis lacquer matched the crumbling eggshell. The immense insect legs that followed gleamed a metallic gold. Next the opal egg split open, a polished beak stabbing the air. An eye the size of a beach ball landed on Kane, unblinking.
The other eggs were breaking open now, too. Helena’s voice dripped with animosity.
“Now, my hatchlings, it’s your turn to feed upon the world.”
• Nineteen •
THE RECEPTION
Augustine Beazley’s wedding had been lovely, everyone agreed. But the reception was a total nightmare.
Firstly, there was the issue with the fireworks. They scored glittering streaks through the fogging night, only a few making it high enough to pierce the low clouds. The rest landed in the garden, igniting it, and several rocketed directly into the roof, igniting that, too. The guests, who had all assembled upon the patio to gaze expectantly at the sky, watched the disaster for as long as it took one rocket to drill right through the willows and into the crowd, sending lace and limb flying in a gay blaze.
Secondly, there were the monsters: Helena’s hatchlings, hewn from priceless metals and precious stones, summoned with only revenge in their minds. The great secrets of the Beazleys’ wealth, unleashed against the family’s assembled detractors.
The third thing was that the champagne was served warm. But no one minded that, on account of the monsters.
The other person, however, should have run. She, of all people, deserved to pursue safety and comfort. It was her wedding, after all.
“This isn’t supposed to happen!” Ursula ducked as a chair hurtled by, shattering a mirror behind her.
“Forget it!” Kane screamed back as the beetle dug through the banquet furniture. The reverie had all but forgotten about his silence. “Just forget the stupid book!”
Ursula caught the next thrown object—half of a table still swathed in linen. “It’s not stupid,” she groaned, pivoting in her dress and tossing the table back at the beetle. “It’s my favorite Lorna Osorio book. Kane, move!”
Ursula’s shield formed tightly around Kane just as the beetle charged. He expected to ricochet away like a pinball, but the beetle bounced right onto its back. Its gold legs combed the air, clicking angrily.
“Anyways,” Ursula was saying. “There are hints of the occult in Lily, but it’s just symbolism.”
“Ursula, let me out!”
Ursula waved away the shield and kept explaining. Kane leapt onto a wrecked table, locked his eyes onto the chain that held up a swinging chandelier, and fired off a single ethereal flare.
The chandelier exploded into spears of crystal that plunged into the beetle. It wasn’t much but it did sever an entire leg, which spun toward Kane, as big as his body and still twitching. He stopped it with his foot and looked at Ursula, proud.
“And anyways,” she was saying. “The character Helena is playing would never betray the real Johan. I bet Elliot said something.”
“She’s a lesbian.”
“What?”
“Helena is a lesbian. Or at least lesbian-ish. I don’t know. But definitely not straight.”