by Ana Mardoll
Clarent looks up to give us a rueful smile. "I guess if you can't see the silver, it's hard to swallow that I'm a fairytale sword, huh?"
"There are rumors about altereds finding their families and being believed," Lavender says, her tone thoroughly skeptical. "But the stories are always about folks who moved away, urban legends rather than firsthand accounts. And even if you could find a human who would believe what you told them, they'd never really understand what we've been through," she adds, her scent souring to a peppery sharpness as her fingernails grip the seat.
This sentiment surprises me, coming from Lavender. Of the two of us, she's the one with a proper human job: waitressing, where she interacts easily with the normal people. She has human friends, too, for drinking and dancing on the weekends. I hadn't thought of her as lonely, not like me. Have I been wrong all this time?
"But does that mean that there's a family out there somewhere, missing me?" Clarent asks, frowning as the idea occurs to him. "Shouldn't I at least try to send them word that I'm alive, or would that make things worse?"
I hesitate before my answer. "It's possible. We can try to find out. Celia says some folks have managed to track down their families using bits and pieces of memory that surfaced over time. But, well, sometimes humans don't remember us." I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to work out how to break the news. "Some of the altereds seem to have faded out of human memory; not all of us, but quite a few. Physical things are affected, too: they disappear from photographs, and legal records vanish."
"The altereds could be remembering incorrectly," Lavender points out, "thinking they've found their family when they have the wrong people entirely. It's not necessarily some kind of fae magic."
"Celia says it's happened more than once," I say with a shrug, not inclined to argue. "The point is: we'll help you look for your old family if you want, Clarent, but the odds of a happy ending are slim. I'm so sorry."
He's quiet for a while after this, digesting what we've told him. "It's all right," he says eventually, his voice calm. "I wasn't expecting to be free again, so it's not as if I got my hopes up planning a happy reunion with people I don't remember." He stares out the window again, quietly pensive. "I don't know what to put on the paperwork in the meantime."
Lavender squeezes his shoulder gently. "You really don't need to decide anything," she says. "Elric fills out the forms and we just have to memorize the information. Most of the stuff doesn't come up in day-to-day life and he keeps things easy to remember, by which I mean he gives us stupid names because he's a heel."
Clarent quirks an eyebrow at this."Stupid names? How do you mean?"
I snort and nudge my purse at him. "Open the front flap if you want to see my license: 'Rosalie Flowers'. Lavs got the same surname, even though we don't look a bit alike to normal humans."
"He called us 'kissing cousins'," Lavender notes, thinning her lips.
Clarent studies the little plastic card with interest. "How did he find out you're twenty-two years old?" he asks curiously.
I laugh. "I'm almost certainly not. Add another four or five years at the least; but the younger he can pass us off, the easier it is to fill in the gaps in our missing credit history."
He strokes the tiny rectangle that shows my human face before passing back my purse. "What will he name me?"
"Something good," Lavender insists, frowning as the sharp scent of green apples fill the air. "We'll make sure he does."
I chuckle at this. "He'll probably go for something phonetically similar, like Claudio or Clement. For the surname, who knows? Probably the Spanish word for 'sword', whatever that is. Don't worry; you don't have to actually use the name he gives you. No one calls me Rosalie Flowers, except the cashiers when they check my license." I give him a warm smile. "I know Elric seems like a jerk, but his heart is in the right place."
He glances back nervously at Lavender. "Rose, about Elric—are you okay? Mina said he'd behave himself, but we were worried."
Hearing the concern in his voice, I look up; he's watching me closely, his expression solemn. Lavender avoids my gaze, looking down at her feet. "I'm okay," I say quickly, blinking in surprise. "Did you think I wouldn't be?"
"He was flirting with you, and you were pretty shaken up," Lavs says defensively. "Celia shouldn't have sent you home with him. It'd be just like him to take you to bed and then kick you out the next morning. You know how he is."
I have to concentrate to keep the car steady and not drift into another lane. Lavender was worried that Elric would break my heart? "I'm really all right," I repeat, shaking my head slowly and gripping the wheel to focus. "It wasn't like that. I mean, we didn't do anything." I can feel my cheeks burning from embarrassment. "You know I can't."
She gives me an exasperated look. "You can't put your lips on anyone," she corrects firmly. "That's not the same thing, Rose."
"And either way," Clarent breaks in gently, "we didn't want you to feel bad. The things he was saying were mean."
I have to swallow back a sudden lump in my throat. "No, it wasn't completely his fault," I tell them. I look up at the rear-view mirror, catching green eyes with my own; then I take a deep breath and steel myself for this revelation. "Uh. Lavender, he thinks that our fingers cause desire; magical desire, I mean."
She surprises me by bursting into laughter. "Rose, you don't believe him, do you?" she asks, the scent of bright marigold tickling my nose.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, my hands tightening on the wheel. "He made a convincing case, Lavs."
She snorts at this. "He would. Rose, he's a player!" Her eyes narrow, her expression mingling sudden worry and protective anger. "Sweetie, oh my god, please tell me he didn't guilt you into getting him off with your 'magical' fingers?"
My cheeks are on fire, my eyes firmly on the road. "No, Lavs, I said we didn't do anything!" I sound shrill to my own ears, embarrassment raising my voice a full octave.
"Listen to me," I start over, trying to sound reasonable. "I touched his hand. I was passing food to him, and then it was like he forgot what I am. He tried to kiss me, and freaked out when he remembered. I had to remind him— Lavs, it felt like magic," I finish quietly.
There's a flash of sympathy in her eyes, but I can tell she still doesn't believe me—or, rather, doesn't believe Elric. I look to Clarent, embarrassed for him to see us fussing at each other, but detect only gentleness in his expression.
I clear my throat, conscious of how silly this all sounds in the cold light of morning. "I touched you before you kissed me," I tell him with the air of a confession.
He nods slowly. "You did. But I kissed you this morning without touching you first," he points out.
"That's true," I admit. "But we don't know how long the magic lasts. Elric didn't want to risk being alone with me this morning, even after a night's sleep."
He's quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry," he says after a long pause.
I blink surprise at him. "Sorry for what?"
His soft silver eyes look up at me, clouded with concern. "Rose, I like you a lot. Lavender, too," he adds, turning his head to flash her a warm smile. "I'd give you both so many kisses, if you would let me." He turns back to me, looking very solemn. "But I shouldn't kiss you any more if it makes you feel bad about yourself. I'm so sorry; I never meant to cause you any pain."
Tears spring to my eyes at this. "No! No, Clarent," I say in a rush. "It's not your fault. That's... that's the whole point." I glance up at the mirror but Lavender is avoiding my gaze, looking thoughtfully at her own hands. "I like you too," I tell him. "But it's not fair to you if my magic makes you like me."
He watches me with gentle eyes. "It isn't?" he queries, his deep voice thoughtful. "If I like you because of magic, is that different from liking you because you're beautiful or smell nice or have a good heart?"
I shake my head, not knowing how to explain. "It comes down to choice. Free will."
"But you said Elric didn't kiss you," he remarks, his head tilt
ed quizzically. "Doesn't that mean he had free will, and used it?"
"No, he didn't kiss me, but he— most people don't want to feel an attraction they didn't choose to have," I fumble. "Kieran didn't like being attracted to me. He barely knows me and he prefers Elric, and maybe Mina," I add, remembering her earlier mention of calling him. "People he knows and trusts."
Clarent nods. "But I'm not Kieran," he points out patiently, "and I know and trust you."
"Rose," Lavender says suddenly. "Okay. If Elric is serious and not just trolling you, then this is something I'm supposed to have too, right?"
I bite my cheek again. "Yeah, he reckoned that was likely," I admit.
She takes a deep breath. "So, Rose, seriously, why don't we just do it?" Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, wide and pleading. Tentative honeysuckle pulls at me, her hope stirring fresh feelings of guilt. "Clarent can make us human again. I'll miss your pink hair, not gonna lie," she says, flashing a rueful smile at me. "But you won't have to worry about hurting people or luring them, none of that. Everything the May Queen did to us? Gone. We'd have a fresh start, to live the lives we want together."
The road is blurry for the sudden tears in my eyes, and I can't meet her gaze in the mirror. I drive on, wishing I could shield myself from Clarent's sympathy and Lavender's raw emotion.
We ride in silence for the remainder of the short trip. When we reach Dakota's neighborhood, I park alongside the curb in front of his house, pulling up behind Celia's truck and a car I don't recognize. I unbuckle my belt and twist in my seat so that I can face them both. Celia is waiting for us, may even have heard us arrive from inside the house, but this is much more important.
"Cards on the table, Lavs," I say quietly, praying that my voice won't crack. "Yes, I want that. All I've ever wanted since we came over was to be normal again." I can feel the tears coming again and blink them back as fast as I can. "But now I-I have a chance to do something good," I whisper, "to make up for all the bad."
"You're already good, Rose!" she explodes, tears in her own eyes. "You work in that damn bookstore and put up with Athena's bullshit. You help with the other altereds, so that they understand what they were and learn what they need to know. You're patient and kind and you don't complain, even when you have every right to!"
"It's true, Rose," Clarent says gently, reaching out to touch my bare shoulder with his cool hand. "You helped me. You've been helping me since I came out yesterday, and you're still doing it now."
I want to melt into his touch, to let him hold us both and whisper those low deep reassurances to me until I can believe them. "It's not the same," I whisper, swallowing back the lump in my throat. "It's not nearly enough."
Lavender brushes furiously at her eyes, swiping away tears. "Rose, how would you feel if it were me?" she demands, reaching out to grab my hand. "Suppose I were the Nightshade and you were the Fragrant? Would you want this for me? Endlessly beating myself up for things I couldn't control in the otherworld?" Her eyes flash with fresh anger. "If I told you right now that I'd killed people, that she'd made me kill people, would you feel any differently about me?"
"No," I whisper, shaking my head. "No; you could tell me you killed a thousand men over there, and I'd still love you. I'd still want only good things for you."
Her hand squeezes mine tighter, her green eyes pleading. "Well then," she says quietly, the soft tone returning to her voice.
Clarent's hand moves gently on my shoulder, blessedly cool metal in the morning heat. "Rose, do you want me to?" he asks gently. "I know how to do it now. I can rearrange the magic, like I did with Tox. You can kiss Lavender all you want then." He gives me a shy smile. "And me, too, if you still want to."
I laugh, but the sound that emerges is more like a relieved sob. "The question is whether you will want to, afterwards," I point out weakly. I look at Lavender, hoping she won't notice the trembling in my hand. "You do realize we may feel differently about each other once we're normal, if Elric is right."
She tosses her head fiercely. "Rose, I know how I feel," she insists. "And if that somehow changes, then I'll just fall for you a second time." She tosses her purple curls over her shoulder, flashing me a confident grin. "If not, I think we could base a beautiful relationship on hate-fucking," she teases.
I'm laughing again, a shaky burbling giggle that has nothing to do with the joke and everything to do with my raw nerves. I don't know if this is the right thing to do; I don't know if I'll regret this tomorrow and see this moment as the most selfish decision of my life. But it's a middle finger held up defiantly to the one who took us, and a choice to be truly happy for the first time that I can remember.
"Okay, Clarent," I say, giddy with the suddenness of the decision. "Do it. Please."
He smiles at me, turning in his seat to face me. The hand on my bare shoulder caresses me gently, trailing tiny goosebumps in the wake of his touch. His free hand comes up to touch my covered shoulder, the coolness of him seeping through my thin sleeve.
He's so lovely that for a moment all I can do is gaze at him. I raise my hands to his face, shyly stroking his smooth cheeks. A delicious shiver runs through me when he smiles under my touch; he closes his eyes as I trace my fingers over his softening lips. As I stare at him, I slowly become aware of a strange feeling behind my eyes, a disorientation that isn't quite dizziness.
He shimmers in the morning sunlight, the soft silver of him dissolving before my eyes as his veil creeps into place. He's warm and brown and beautiful, and the sensation of silver smoothness under the illusory stubble of his jaw isn't unpleasant under my fingers, but he doesn't look like himself. Blinking in surprise, I gasp and yank my hands back as quickly as if I had been burned. His eyes fly open in concern at my reaction, his hands instantly drawing back. "Rose, what's wrong?"
I clutch at my head, feeling light-headed as the world swims before me. With his hands gone, my vision slowly clears back to what it should be, what I'm used to: Lavender's purple hair is as vibrant as fresh spring flowers, the thick green veins on my arms are as bright as serpents, and Clarent is once again glorious silver that flashes brightly in the morning sunlight.
"I-I'm sorry," I stammer, feeling ashamed of my reaction. Did I really think that becoming a normal human would be painless, or that it wouldn't have its price? I look up at Lavender, who watches me with wide worried eyes. "It's a funny feeling, seeing only the veils," I try to explain. "It's like a buzzing behind your eyes."
"Do you want me to go first?" she offers tentatively, her hand reaching out to me.
I look up at her, the dizziness slowly subsiding. Yes, she's beautiful in all her altered glory, bright purples and greens against her delicate paleness; but if I cross my eyes and bring her veil to the forefront of my vision, she's no less beautiful. Different, yes, but still Lavender, still lovely.
How long would it take me to get used to seeing her with human eyes—a day, a week, a month? Even the idea of lying in her arms, kissing her, being happy with her for the length of time necessary for my eyes to adjust is a luxury impossible to imagine. I would lie down to sleep next to her at night, knowing that she would still be there in the morning, alive and happy.
"No," I say, smiling in refusal of her offer. "I want to go first. I just freaked out a little; I'm okay now."
I turn back to Clarent, giving him my brightest and bravest smile. "Sorry," I apologize. "Let's try that one more time."
Then I blink at him. For the second time in as many minutes, Clarent looks wrong to my eyes. He's still silver, still beautiful and smooth and cool in his seat beside me. Yet previously I'd had to squint to look at him, my eyes dazzled by his constant reflection of the morning sun. Now there is no brightness to him. His skin is a dull flat gray, starved of the barest hint of light. Puzzled, I turn back to gaze out the windscreen, my eyes widening with a fresh rush of fear. No! Not again.
The car, Dakota's house, and a fair stretch of the street and lawn around us are completely surrounded by a thick wall
of mist reaching high into the dark sky above us, enclosing the world in a dome of swirling fog.
Chapter 18
Lavender is the first to speak, tart lemony fear underlying the anger in her voice. "What even is going on here! How many is this in two days—four portals?"
"Celia said we should run or hide if it happened again," Clarent urges, his voice a soft whisper in the car. "Rose, can we just drive out?"
I shake my head, my eyes straining to pierce the mist. The whiteness is thicker than before, swirling in tight clouds that threaten to block Dakota's house from sight. "It closed too quickly. I didn't even see it forming this time," I murmur, half to myself. "We're trapped."
Lavender takes a deep breath. "Even if we could leave, that would mean abandoning Dakota and Celia," she points out in a strained voice. "Tox, too, if Celia brought them over with her."
I frown at Celia's truck, parked at the curb in front of us along with the other car that I don't recognize. Who else is here, I wonder, and can they help us? Then I remember Celia's earlier texts mentioning Lily; I've never met the polyglot woman, but I don't think she's an expert on portals. I peer at the house, looking for signs of movement from the windows, any signal that they're aware of our predicament. But the house is silent and lifeless, with no help forthcoming.
"Where do we hide?" Clarent asks, his calm practicality cutting through my thoughts.
I look around us quickly, suppressing panic. We could crouch on the floor, but we'd have nowhere to retreat if something dangerous were to approach the car. Outside, there aren't many areas suitable for hiding; the street is flat and wide, and there are no trees except the shimmery insubstantial ones brought over with the portal.
"The house," Lavender whispers, her wide eyes watching the dark building. "We can get to it, can't we?"