Poison Kiss

by Ana Mardoll

  Athena looks thoughtful. "If the avatar was being animated by a second faery, then he might have been taking you to his own domain, to be used later in an arranged fight between Arthur and Mordred. If he passed over a border, you could have slipped through into a portal. I doubt the avatars can pass like we can; they lack the intent and have no magic of their own to power the crossing. Once you were earthside, you'd become a man again; the physics over here are very strict about that sort of thing."

  "The really interesting question," she adds, staring at him with fresh intensity, "is whether you retained that talent of alteration; whether you could do it again out here."

  I stare at her. "But, Athena, it wasn't a talent," I point out, glancing at him. "Right? The faery used him in a ceremonial way, you said."

  He nods at this, looking uncertain. "I didn't do anything. He just stabbed me into them."

  She snorts. "You children: always so argumentative. Who knows more about magic here, you or me? You were incorporated into the process. You may well have been chosen for it; they shop for us specifically, you know. And ritual has a way of intertwining with magic." She gives him another curious look. "You have a lot of magic to intertwine with, I suspect. To open a portal while unconscious is quite a feat."

  Clarent looks down at his silver hands, frowning. "I don't feel powerful."

  "Why should that be any indication?" she says, puckering her lips into a sour expression. "You are, or you wouldn't be here. And you ought to be able to do something with all that magic. They always use us for something. You weren't used for killing or healing. He used you for his alterations, which means you probably have a knack for rearranging magic."

  He considers this. "I didn't enjoy it, though," he says quietly. "I don't want to hurt people, or turn them into boars or bears."

  "Athena, do you really think he could?" I ask her, my voice low and skeptical. In the three months we've been out, I've never heard of an altered who could infuse normal humans with fae magic, making them altered like us.

  Uncertainty creeps into her voice. "I'm not sure," she confesses reluctantly. "We don't know precisely how the alteration process works, just that it does. Maybe you should talk to Worth? Nee has a way of bringing details to the surface. But the faeries do align our magic to their will, consciously shaping us, attuning us to their individual desires. That's why we can't turn our powers on the one who alters us, why kissing your May Queen wouldn't kill her."

  She shakes her head. "If Clarent was used as a channel in the alteration process, there's a good chance he could do it again on his own—consciously rearrange magic in a body, maybe even align it to himself, as the faeries do when they align us to them." She looks thoughtful. "He might even be able to drain it, permanently and lethally, as they do; not just in short regenerating bursts like that Joel does. He could create his own empty avatars."

  I stare at her, blinking quickly as I try to parse her words; even after discarding the options for murder which Athena has flung out in her casual scholarly way, there remains a flood of possibilities. "Wait. Do you think," I say, very slowly, my voice strained, "that he could rearrange someone who's been already altered?"

  She gives me a smirk. "Why, do you know any volunteers?" she asks wryly. Then she gives him a sharp look. "Even if your talents aren't lethal—and there's no way to know without experimenting—there's a possibility that any realignment you do might be permanent. Don't practice on anyone unless they're certain they want to be changed." She turns away to examine one of the shelves with a haughty sniff. "Certainly don't try it on me. I need to be able to remember all my books if I'm to do my job."

  "Wait!" My voice is sharper than I mean it to be, piercing the quiet of the empty store. "You do think so? You really think he could turn us altered into humans again?"

  Clarent watches me with a gentle gaze, his silver eyes full of sympathy, but Athena doesn't even bother to look up at us. "We're all human," she says flatly. "Some of us have more magic than others, and our magic is arranged differently in each case, that's all. Could be he can change those arrangements, or remove magic altogether; hard to say." She sighs and shakes her head. "Magic works at an instinctual level. The touch of a hand, a little concentration, the necessary intent to power the process and—voilà!"

  She looks up then, her eyes glittering again. "Maybe you can pluck the thorns from our little Rose," she tells him. "You two can experiment; see if you can't get her to a point where she doesn't need Mina to bring undead around after all. Watch that Lavender, though, otherwise she'll swoop in; a right falcon, that one."

  "But I—" he starts to speak, only to be cut off instantly.

  "Just don't do it in the store!" Her sleep-deprived sulk descends like a sledgehammer. "You'll mess up my books! Go away and come back when I'm not so busy. I have reorganization to do and you're going to need legal identification and cellphones and all the other silly things Celia cares about. Rose, go drop him on Mina or Elric and then come back to help me with the poetry section. I want to sort the books by publishing date. I'm tired of having to continually restock Leaves of Grass, and this way everyone will be less likely to find it."

  With that, she turns sharply away from us and we are dismissed.

  Chapter 11

  Even without her curt dismissal, I can tell Athena is done. We won't get anything more out of her for today. That we got as much as we did from her is a minor miracle; I can see she's bone-weary from staying up all night, and any more prodding will only end in stubborn refusal and creative invectives.

  I take Clarent's hand and draw him away from the mythology section, shaking my head to warn him against any more questions at the moment. "Sorry," I tell him when we're safely out of Athena's hearing, or at least far enough away I won't feel guilty if she does overhear us in the silence of the empty bookstore. "We can talk to her later, if you have more questions. She just needs a break for now."

  "I hope I didn't offend her," he says, turning his solemn gray eyes on me. "I may have teased her once or twice, and I suppose that's not very kind. I-I haven't been around company much, not for a very long time, and I'm afraid I don't remember all the niceties."

  I give him a grin that I hope is reassuring. "I don't believe you offended her, no. And I think she can handle any teasing you dish out. She's always a little, uh, garrulous at the best of times, and I know she had a rough night. If it's any consolation, I think you two got on very well. I've seen her send newbies off with nothing more than a list of obscure book recommendations, and with more questions than they'd arrived with."

  He nods at this, looking thoughtful. "At least I know what my name means and why it was given to me," he says slowly.

  "A lot of people find that helpful," I say gently. "It doesn't change what you've been through, I know, but sometimes it's nice to know that it wasn't just random cruelty."

  He nods slowly. "I guess it helps to know I didn't imagine it all," he says quietly. "That I'm not crazy, and it wasn't some feverish nightmare I imagined."

  "Hey, don't knock 'crazy'," I say, giving him a rueful smile. "Mental illness rates among us altered are pretty high. We don't have a lot of options for counseling, but Mina does what she can. She, uh, thinks I have depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, maybe some other stuff too." I'm rambling; I bite the inside of my cheek to slow down. "So, yeah. Crazy. Sorry."

  He nods gently, his expression grave. "I'll remember," he says softly.

  I smile and reach out again to squeeze his hand. "But I know what you mean. Whether your brain is perfect or not, it's reassuring to know that our memories are real. Those we have, anyway. I guess you don't remember who you were before?"

  He shakes his head. "Not a thing about it. Celia said that was normal?" he says, his tone turning up into a question at the end. "I thought it was part of, ah, being a sword."

  "Almost all of us have amnesia," I say, stepping over a pile of books and then turning to help him. "Or, well, we don't know a better word for it,
but they drain us when we're taken. I keep hoping my memories will come back, but it's just bits and pieces so far. Sometimes you'll hear a song on the radio and next thing you know you're singing along. Or you'll learn how to do something much faster than you'd expect; driving, for example." I shake my head. "I keep hoping I'll find my real name, though it wouldn't be the same unless Lavender got hers too."

  Clarent considers this. "I can understand that," he says eventually, his warm voice thoughtful. "Rose is a very lovely name. But I can see why you'd want your original one back."

  I feel myself blushing and look away from him. I wonder how many of Athena's insinuations have gone over his head and how many he might have taken to heart. Do I really want him to take any of it seriously? He's freshly earthside, no more than a few hours, for goodness' sake; he needs rest and time to acclimatize. He doesn't need me pouncing on him merely because he might be the one man on earth who can survive my attentions, and also because he's beautiful and kind and his lips curl up into the prettiest smile.

  He's staring at me; I can feel it. When I look up, I see his silver eyes watching my face gently. He clears his throat softly, embarrassed to meet my gaze. "Rose, I need to apologize." I look at him in surprise as his words tumble out. "About the kissing—I didn't mean to upset you. I'm so sorry."

  I blink at him. "What? No! No, I'm just glad you're okay, Clarent. You didn't upset me." I smile to back up my words. "Really. I'm just grateful I didn't hurt you."

  "You didn't hurt me," he agrees solemnly, his gray eyes watching my face closely. "But Celia explained you were worried."

  I hesitate at that. Celia has a short version of my poison and my past which has been distilled down to the bare minimum; enough to warn casual acquaintances, but without the gory details. I wonder which version Clarent got from Celia, with Lavender at hand. "Did she tell you why I was worried?"

  He brushes his hand over his smooth silver head, looking sheepish. "Not exactly," he hedges politely. "But I got the gist. And Athena said—" His voice trails away, almost apologetic.

  I nod. I can't look at him, so instead I stare straight ahead at the shuttered shop windows, the painted sign on the door that spells out Athenaeum, the scratches in the glass where children drag their toys when they are bored. "Men," I say quietly. "Athena said I killed men."

  "You didn't mean to," he says softly, staring ahead with me, giving me some semblance of privacy by not looking at my face.

  "No." I shake my head. "I didn't want to, but I killed them all the same. Our mistress infused my lips with poison, and then sent me to their beds or put them in mine. I was for killing, because it amused her. There were a bunch of us, her Nightshades; she stuck us in with her Ornamentals or Fragrants. We were her secret thorns, and you didn't know until it was too late."

  I realize I'm babbling, piling him high with details that he won't understand, that I didn't intend to dump on him. Flailing to a halt, I try to start over. "I don't know that I've ever kissed anyone without bad things happening," I explain, smiling weakly. "The only ones who survived me before today were faeries, and kissing them wasn't nice like with y— wasn't nice," I clarify firmly. "So, yes, I was worried about you."

  He nods solemnly and I'm touched by the fact that he doesn't seem judgmental. He's serious, but in a sympathetic way. "May I?" he asks softly and I blink when he offers me his hand, hesitating just inches from mine.

  "May you what?" I ask, confused.

  A dark blush creeps over his silver cheeks. "Would it be all right if I held your hand? I mean, we've touched and it's safe, so I thought... if you wanted to hold my hand, I'd like that, too."

  I'm too startled to speak. I have already touched him, of course; little reassuring squeezes because his story was so sad and I'd wanted to comfort him. But I hadn't really considered that he might want to hold my hand just for the sake of holding it.

  I nod, reaching out my hand to his, and his cool touch is a welcome balm in the hot summer air already filling the shop. For a moment I simply stand there, holding him, relishing the strange sensation of his hand in mine as it softens ever so slightly under my warmth.

  He grins, looking pleased and trying almost bashfully to hide it. "Celia explained how important it is to ask before any touching or kisses," he says solemnly. "We never really had many women at court, and the ones we did have were too important to visit my smithy. The High King had all these rules: ladies were not to be spoken to without a long list of necessary formalities. But introductions were always kisses and I never thought to ask first." His lips twist in regret and he shakes his head slowly. "I won't forget again."

  "It's okay," I say softly, not wanting him to feel guilty for something he couldn't have known. "Nobody was hurt and it won't happen again." The words spill out in reflexive reassurance, and I immediately regret my thoughtless choice of expression.

  The kiss shouldn't happen again; we still don't know if I'm dangerous to him. But if he could undo my magic, if the May Queen's alterations to me could be undone, would he want to try kissing me again? Would I want to kiss him? I try to imagine being normal and able to kiss anyone I wanted to. Lost for a moment in fantasy, I wonder whether I could possibly kiss him and Lavender at the same time; then I realize that he's staring at me again.

  "Penny for your thoughts?" he asks and then pauses, uncertain. "Is that the right saying?"

  I smile at this. "It is, actually," I reassure him. "I, ah, was thinking that Athena is right: I really should bring you to see Elric or Mina. You're freshly out, and there's all kinds of stuff that you're going to need."

  He gives me an easy smile. "I'm not complaining," he points out quietly. He looks down at the plaid shirt and worn jeans that Celia has outfitted him with, along with heavy work boots that look too big on his feet. "I've got soft clothes and warm food and new friends." He chuckles. "What more could I want?"

  I laugh with him and haul out my phone with my free hand. "No, I'm serious! Elric has to meet you so that he can start creating a new identity for you. Until we get you a driver's license and a social security card, your work options are limited. And there's always the threat of legal trouble if the police pick you up..."

  My voice trails away as I dial Mina and the phone rolls over to voicemail. I frown and try Elric's number, but that rings unanswered. "Something wrong?" Clarent asks, looking concerned at my expression.

  "I'm not sure. They're not picking up." I make a face and shove the phone back in my pocket, looking around the deserted store and the daunting mess that fills it. In the back of the store, over towards the children's books, I hear Athena industriously tipping over the kiosk of children's toys for no reason that I can fathom except that she must have deemed it in her way.

  "Elric and Mina aren't really early risers," I explain, resolving to ignore Athena. I don't add that their sleeping habits tend to vary, based on their bedmate of the night before. "Their phones are probably still turned off, which means we'll have to wait awhile before they call me back." I hesitate. "We could go ahead and drive over to Elric's, but I can't promise he'll answer the door when we get there. I might be wasting your time with a fruitless trip."

  He shrugs again, casual and unworried. "It seems like I've got plenty of time to waste, now that I'm free," he says easily. "I'd just as soon waste it with you." His gaze travels the store as he realizes that the messy stacks of unshelved books aren't supposed to be strewn about the floor. "If you like, we could wait here for them to call you back," he suggests. "I could help you clean up?"

  The store sound system chooses that moment to sputter to life with "Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree" from the Golden Oldies compilation disc that I know for a fact Athena hates. I close my eyes and pray for patience. "Ah, well, I think Athena wants to be alone with the books," I observe dryly, reluctantly letting go of his hand to gather up my purse and keys. I give him an apologetic smile. "She doesn't make friends quickly. It'll be a few weeks before she can remember not to be reflexively surly at
you."

  He grins at this. "I don't mind 'surly'," he says with a shrug.

  I'd be surprised at how quickly he's adapting to his new life except that Lavender and I were like this too, when we first got out. Calm and normal, joking and laughing during the day, until night came and the bad memories would strike. It took us a whole week to realize we were both having similar emotional breakdowns, and after that it was easier even if I didn't dare breach the wall between us. We were in separate rooms, but at least we weren't alone.

  The thought occurs to me that I should tell him he's not alone either; that he doesn't need to be emotionally strong all the time, not anymore. We'll understand if he needs to fall apart and have a good cry. He needs to know that he doesn't have to be perfect out here, that he won't be punished for allowing his emotions to show. Yet I don't know how to say that when he's standing there waiting on me, smiling his kind smile. I'll have to take him to Mina's later; she'll tell him everything I can't, without ruining this moment where we're both trying to be normal.

  "Okay," I say, my voice as bright and sunny as I can make it. "Since we're not wanted here, we might as well go rustle up Elric and get him started. You'll need identification from him, and then we'll take you to Mina and she'll get you settled into a place to sleep tonight." I feel myself blushing then, a little embarrassed. "Uh, just so you know: Celia is usually the one who does the introductions, but she had to run off on an emergency, and now you're stuck with me."

  He looks amused at this, his silver eyes dancing with sudden humor. "Poor me," he says, very solemnly.

  I shake my head at his teasing. "Are you still hungry? Do you need to go to the bathroom first? It's a bit of a drive over to Elric's."

  His grin widens. "I, uh, went at Celia's," he admits. Sudden mischief gleams in his eyes. "But now that you mention it, I am still a little hungry. We will take the rest of the breakfast, won't we?" He manages an innocent look. "Athena won't mind?"