“You think it will work?”
“It’s all we have.”
Goodfellow kneels next to Ganymede and leans to whisper in her ear. “Ganymede? If you can hear me, listen to my voice. We are not leaving you here, do you understand? Move a finger if you can hear me, if you understand.”
“She’s not moving, Goodfellow,” Lady M sobs. “Oh my god, I think they’ve killed her.”
“No, no! She’s with us. Look.”
The pinky of Ganymede’s right hand twitches in recognition.
“Good, good. Now listen to me. We’re going to get you out of here. And you’re not going to remember any of this. Do you understand? I’ll help you forget everything.” Goodfellow turns to Lady M. “Give me your Forgetsum tablet. Now.”
“But that’s double the dosage . . . Prospero said one was enough!”
“I know what Prospero said, goddamn it! But you have to trust me. We’re going to need as much as we can get. We need to keep her with us!”
Lady M digs into her pocket and produces the same little yellow pill. “Here.”
Goodfellow pulls a small flask from his back pocket. “Tip her head up, and use your fingers to open her mouth. I think she can still swallow.”
Lady M does as he asks. “Listen, baby,” she whispers to Ganymede. “You need to swallow these pills now.” She strokes her hair lightly, tears welling in her eyes. “You need to do as I say and swallow them right down, okay?”
Ganymede’s swollen eyelids flicker with mild recognition. In seconds, Goodfellow pushes the pills to the back of her mouth, then tips some of the liquid from the flask in after them. Lady M closes her bruised lips for her and tilts her head back. “Down they go, honey. That’s it. You’re going to be okay now.”
Lady M and Goodfellow lock eyes in silence.
“Will it work? Are you sure she won’t remember any of this?” Goodfellow’s mouth tightens. “I’m positive,” he says blankly. “Let’s get her out of here.”
Their bodies grow faint as darkness drips into the room like ink into a pool of water. Soon the vision is a black haze around me. I’m thankful it is over now. I’m thankful there’s nothing else behind my eyelids to see. I feel nothing but exhaustion as I slip back from myself, into a terrifying dreamless sleep.
NOELLE
TWENTY-SEVEN
Ganymede. Her name wakes me.
It sings in my head until my eyes open. I register my whereabouts. The RV engine hums softly under me. I roll off the sofa, my body drained and heavy. But my mind is alert. I know exactly what I’m looking for as I dive into our backpack and find Volume IV—Grandma G’s book—inside it.
Something comes over me. Before I know it, I’m reading furiously, absorbing the words. The voices speak in my head as clearly as if I’d written them myself. I’m into the first play, As You Like It, when I realize the characters Ganymede and Rosalind are the same person. My head is spinning, but somehow I piece together how Ganymede, the fighter, the Riser, became G, the woman I met just hours before. G, the lover of peace over violence. I can hear Lady M’s voice in my head, her final question: Will it work?
Whatever they were, the pills had helped save G’s life and allowed her to forget the horror she endured that day. But the G we met in Ardenia seemed to remember her past. Goodfellow had been so sure it would work. But what if somehow, it didn’t? What if G still remembered . . . everything?
No wonder G refused to help us! Of course she didn’t want any part of the new Rising. I can see it now. In the Forest of Arden, Ganymede in the play is bold and brash, very unlike his real female identity, Rosalind. G was that way, too. She was strong, she was courageous. She was a warrior. But now she is just G, an abbreviation of her former self. She had remembered what Fell did to her. And that’s why she’d changed her name to just plain old G. She wouldn’t be Ganymede, the warrior, after that day.
I close the book and stow it in the pack. The sunroof of the RV is open, the night air blowing in. I climb up onto the window ledge and stick my head out. As I feared, Ledger is atop the moving RV, lying on his back, hands under his head, gazing at the stars.
“Don’t you ever sleep?”
“I couldn’t,” he says, turning to me. “I guess I was too worried about what I’d put in your head.”
I pull myself up through the sunroof and sit beside him, hooking my feet under the railing of the RV. The horizon is blotted with patches of darkness. Beyond our headlights, the unlit road stretches for infinity into the distance. Every now and then a blank sign appears, its face etched away by fire.
Ledger’s eyes appraise me. “Are you okay?”
“It was awful,” I confess. “When they started hurting Ganymede—I mean, G—I wanted to stop it. But I couldn’t.”
“So now you understand.”
“I understand why G is the way she is. Why she wouldn’t join us. The drug they gave her didn’t work for some reason.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Forgetsum pills. Goodfellow and Lady M gave her their Forgetsum pills. They tried to save her life, and they did, but they also wanted to help her forget everything. But clearly that didn’t work.”
Ledger turns to me, and a look of curiosity overcomes him. “Tell me more.”
“Okay, well, I was thinking how Grandma G was so different from Ganymede in the vision. Back then she was a fighter, Ledger. Just like Rosalind is now. She wouldn’t stop. Even after they—” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “Even after they’d almost killed her.”
“And that’s why she’s alive today.”
“Yes, but more than that. Back in Ardenia, Rosalind said she still remembers. The Forgetsum pills didn’t last for her. That’s why the incense. That’s why all her talk of peace and neutrality. She wants nothing to do with the Rising because she remembers all that she lost because of it. She isn’t Ganymede anymore. Erasing her name was her attempt to erase her history. She’s just G now.”
“So you read it, then?”
“The whole play.”
Ledger nods and hangs his head. “I thought you would.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No, not at all. It’s amazing. I mean, I think you are amazing . . . that you can read, I mean. It’s just that . . .”
“Just that what?”
“Remember how I said I hoped to find someone else who could do what you do?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, you’re making that very difficult.”
“How so?”
“Because, Elle. You’re not just reading the books. You’re feeling the stories, the people’s stories. The words don’t just pass through you. You understand them. On so many levels. Whether I like it or not, you, Noelle, might just be the last true reader on Earth.”
A sharp pang of nerves hits my stomach. Because I know what Ledger means. If I can read the volumes, if I can understand them in combination with the visions he shows me, maybe I can also figure out why the Risers left them behind. The weight of responsibility sinks in. My heart starts to beat faster as I recall how easily reading comes to me, how utterly natural it feels. Like breathing. That anyone else couldn’t do it, that this very human ability has been stolen from us feels like an incredible injustice.
“There have to be others out there like me, who can do this.”
Ledger shakes his head. I can tell he’s irritated. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“How do you continue to deny what you are when everything in the universe is trying to confirm it?”
“What are you talking about? I’m not denying anything.” Ledger kicks the railing hard and turns to me, his eyes on fire. “Yes, you are! Like it or not, Noelle, you are a reader, maybe the last one ever. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
I look away from him, unable to meet his eyes. “You don’t understand,” I say angrily. “But John would.”
Ledger is quiet. I can tell my words hit deep. “Is that so?�
��
“Yeah, it is.”
“Why did you escape, if not to find the truth? Believe me, John may have understood, but he also wanted you to know what you are. He wanted that for you, no question.”
“How do you know what he wanted?” I say bitterly.
“Because I felt it. In those first moments here. Not for very long, but just long enough.”
“I’ve spent my whole life trying to hide what I am, being forced to keep this part of me secret. And now I’m just supposed to embrace it?”
I turn back to him, but Ledger’s eyes are shut. He’s breathing deeply. “Yes. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do,” he answers.
“Well, maybe I can’t! Maybe I don’t know how.”
He turns, his eyes inviting me in, two endless pools of night. I’m sure I can see the stars there. “You’re right.”
“What?”
“I said you’re right. You just said you don’t know how to embrace what you are, and that’s because I’m failing you.”
“What? No, you’re not. That’s crazy.”
“It’s not, Noelle. I’m supposed to help you see what you have and what your gift will become. If I can’t do that, then clearly I am failing you. I thought if you could know me, where I come from, maybe that would help you know yourself. But I see now it was too much, too fast.”
I want to tell him that it’s me that’s failing, not him, but the words don’t come in time. A deep rumbling shakes the RV. I cling to the railing, careful to avoid Ledger’s arm braced near me. A loud boom thuds in my chest. Colorful explosions burst in all directions, lighting up the dawn sky. Below them, powerful beams of light twist and circle, making patterns in the smoke. A far-off beat picks up as the lights clash overhead. Ledger and I jump down into the RV.
“Hello!” Ros calls. “Y’all need to come see this!”
We dart into the front of the RV and sit in the passenger seat, keeping our eyes on the extraordinary display before us.
“What are they?”
Ros shakes her head. “I have no idea.”
The explosions get louder as we near, the heavy beat drumming into our bodies. The RV rattles and vibrates with every sound.
We zip into the center of a city. Tall buildings surround us, their faces reflecting the colors in the sky. Ros points straight ahead, down a strip of endless road disappearing into the distance. “This is it,” she says. “This is Fort Numb.”
“It looks nothing like a fort.” I look at Ros. “So how do we find Obe?”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem. That’s him right there.”
I lean over, following Ros’s gaze to a large sign outside her window. A man wearing a crown and a long purple cape towers above the city. His dark eyes, set too wide beneath a sinking brow, seem to follow us as we pass. The image breaks apart, slipping and shifting into something else. Suddenly the man is a woman covered head to toe in blue-and-green feathers. Her yellow eyes pierce through like individual suns. Behind her in the distance is the faint glow of a word.
“Fairyland,” I say to Ros.
“Huh?”
“That’s what the sign says,” I tell her.
“Guess we need to find Fairyland, then,” Ros says and slows the RV. “Whatever the hell that is.”
We continue down the vacant street, searching every building for the word. The thudding grows louder, the explosions in the sky nearer. Suddenly a red flash of light scurries across the road, whipping a long tail of smoke in front of us.
“Ros, look out!”
Ros slams on the brakes, swerving into a stop.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” she pants furiously. “I almost hit that thing!”
The thing sizzles, dances, and kicks against the asphalt, releasing thick crimson smoke. It blooms into a cloud until the RV is surrounded. We can’t see a thing.
“Don’t panic,” I say. “The wind will clear it.”
Ledger stands, his jaw tightening as the red cloud encloses us. “Ros, we need to know—could this be a trap?”
Ros shakes her head, mouth agape as a small window seems to open inside the smoke and a head wearing a crown and thick silver sunglasses emerges. He strides toward us as the smoke spirals around him like wings.
“Not a trap,” Ros says. “Just a little drama.”
Ledger looks at her. “Please don’t tell me that’s him.”
The figure lifts his shades and peers at us. A smile spreads across his face, widening his plump cheeks. I look at Ros. She nods once and freezes. “That’s him, all right. That’s Obe.”
“Holy smoking nymphs! Is that you, Ros?” Obe cups his hands, yelling over the thudding beat, the exploding sky.
“I’m getting out,” Ros says.
Ledger and I glance at each other. “You sure about that?” he says, but Ros has already opened her door. We watch as she makes her way through the smoke toward him. His eyes bulge out of his head as she wraps him in a bear hug. They turn and wave for us to join them.
The curtain flicks back. “What the hell is all that noise?” Grandpa asks.
“Fort Numb, apparently,” I tell him.
Grandpa watches Obe and Ros talking. “That fellow there is our contact?” he asks doubtfully.
“I’m afraid so,” Ledger says.
We follow Ros out to meet Obe.
“I see you brought the cavalry,” he says when he sees us. He waves the smoke. “Sorry about the flares. We always do it when a strange vehicle rolls in.” He flips up his sunglasses, revealing his wide-set brown eyes. “Welcome to Fort Numb. I am Oberon. King of the Fairies.” He throws his arms out, tossing back his cape. He takes an exaggerated bow. “But just call me Obe. Now, which of you are the Valers?”
“We are,” I say, stepping forward. “I’m Noelle. This is my grandfather, William.” I motion for Ledger to step forward, but he hesitates. “And this is Ledger.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet all of you.” Obe rubs his palms, clinking together the abundance of trinkets dangling from his wrists, the stacks of rings adorning his fingers. He catches my glance at the hundreds of beaded necklaces circling his throat, impairing his movement. “You like my jewels?” I nod, unsure of what to say.
Obe flicks the bundle of necklaces. “They’re fake. Every last one of them. The nymphs give them to me, you know.”
“The nymphs?” Ledger asks.
“Yup. The nymphs. They think it makes them special, that I’ll wear their jewels. Even get insulted when I take one off. So here I am, choking on my own popularity!”
He sidles up to Ros, lifting a hand to caress one of her golden-brown ringlets. “You know,” he says slyly. “You would make a wonderful nymph. You have the face for it. And the body, too.”
Ros wrinkles her nose. “What do they do exactly, the nymphs?”
“Oho!” Obe bites his knuckles. “What don’t they do? That’s the question! They do everything, my lovely Ros. Absolutely. Everything.”
He casts a gleaming eye over me. “In fact, your friend here wouldn’t make a half-bad nymph herself. Shame . . .”
Ledger takes a step toward Obe, his jaw tight, hands forming fists. “Listen, we’ve come a long way. I know you invited us here, but we need to see whoever’s in charge.”
Obe narrows his eyes. “Well, Mr. Bossy Boots, you’re looking at him.”
Ledger stands still, assessing him.
“That’s right. We are spirits of another sort here in Fort Numb. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a little shindig I need to make an appearance at.” He swishes the red smoke in front of his face. “Mustn’t keep the nymphs waiting.”
“Have you forgotten why we’re here?” Ledger says. “Fell is occupying Pedanta. Ardenia is under threat. It’s likely you’ll be next.”
Obe turns, cape in hand, making the crimson fog swell around him. He straightens his crown and leans toward Ledger, his finger pointed at him. “Listen, friend. You’re in Fort Numb now. So relax a little. Take the
edge off, for crying out loud.”
“You know who we are,” I say. “So why did you ask us to come here, if you’re not going to help us?”
Obe pinches the flesh between his eyes as he squeezes them shut. “You people don’t get it. Party first. Business after. That’s the way we do things in Fort Numb. We’ll get to you, Miss Hartley. And your books.”
“So you do have one of the volumes of the Rising?” I say, unable to help myself.
“All in good time. All in good time.” Obe waves the smoke aside. He glances up, shielding his eyes. “Now, where is that saucy nymph, Titania?” He disappears into the haze.
A flashing sign cuts through the fog. I can just make out the letters. F-a-i-r-y-l-a-n-d.
Oberon sticks his head back and lifts his shades. “Well, you fairies coming or not?”
NOELLE
TWENTY-EIGHT
We follow Obe through the thinning smoke toward a grand entrance. A crystal chandelier hangs over us, sending beams of colored light across a marble floor. Above it, the bright-purple sign glows bright, even in broad daylight: “Fairyland.”
The glass doors open. A tall woman wearing nothing but blueand-green feathers struts out. I recognize her from the sign. Her face is adorned with tiny jewels that appear embedded in her skin. Feathers sprout from her eyelids like lashes. Her eyes flash yellow as she walks up to Obe, towering over him in her feather-covered shoes. She offers her hand, but Obe pulls her face toward him, smearing his mouth over her delicate lips. He releases her and turns to us.
“Guys, this is Titania, Queen of Fairyland.” He cups his hand around his mouth. “But I don’t mind telling you what I like to call her. Tit-mania.” He looks back and forth at us. “What do you think? Great, isn’t it?” He smacks her bottom, and Titania flinches. “Keeps the queen humble.”
Titania laughs and leans on Oberon’s shoulder. “Oh, stop it, Obie,” she coos. “You know I hate when you call me that in front of strangers.”
Obe feigns a whisper. “Titania, these aren’t strangers, these are the UVF runaways. You know, the ones I was telling you about?”
Blood, Ink & Fire Page 24