Impostor Syndrome

by Mishell Baker

  “Of course.”

  “I also left a message for Alvin alerting him to the presence of two spies in his ranks.”

  “Did Tracy say if any of them have been feeding info to Dame Belinda?”

  “He says absolutely not. Apparently he gave strict orders otherwise. He was, unfortunately, not willing to speak with me for very long. But he says his policy is hands off in the conflict right now; he is gathering information and waiting to see how it plays out.”

  “And how is it going to play out now?”

  “Our plan is still sound,” said Caryl, “even without Tjuan. We only need the iron-laced facade of him to make it work.”

  I shook my head. “No,” I said. “It’s an unacceptable risk. Going without real Tjuan means either we abandon the exit strategy and count on everything to go like clockwork—which I am not willing to do after the mess in London—or we use a version of the exit strategy that could potentially be a massacre. If I accidentally touch a stone at the same time Ironbones Tjuan does, the White Rose comes crashing down with everyone inside it. Just . . . absolutely not.”

  “Perhaps Shock could make another facade entirely.”

  I paused, thought it over. “We could bring Phil in, maybe. Have him do Tjuan’s part. Do we have enough time?”

  “There is no way to know how long it will take before someone in London spots the missing Vessel and begins to put things together, but Dawnrowan at least is willing to put off the meeting in light of our recent complications. I imagine Shock could put together another facade within a few days. But we cannot use Phil; he is without exaggeration the only glue holding Residence Four operations together at the moment.”

  Caryl’s phone buzzed; she pulled it out of her pocket to look at it.

  “Stevie’s definitely out,” I said. “Alvin might be up for it, but a facade of him would have boobs, so that’s not going to work.”

  “Perhaps this is what you could use to win Alondra back,” said Caryl. She turned her phone toward me. “Tracy just sent me her location.”

  “Wait. You’d trust Alondra with this?”

  “Why not? She left New York because she felt strongly that Dame Belinda was in the wrong. She was clever enough to pull off a fairly complicated bit of espionage without arousing either my or Alvin’s suspicions. She is an experienced agent, and clearly wants to help.”

  I raked a hand through my hair again, looked down at myself. “I can try to go talk to her, but let me at least change my shirt and dry my hair first.”

  I rose and headed for the stairs, but before I could even start the ascent toward my room, I stopped in my tracks. Standing at the head of the staircase was a tall Greek beauty with eyes like clouded jade, head cocked at a bizarre angle.

  I bit down on the cliché: How long have you been standing there? “Caryl,” I said. She turned, saw what I was seeing, went pale. She leaned forward against the back of the couch, clutching it with both hands as though for support.

  Had Shiverlash deliberately concealed herself, or were we just that oblivious?

  Caveat made herself visible, appearing on Shiverlash’s shoulder.

  “The queen orders me to translate again,” Caveat said. Her voice and manner were flat; I couldn’t tell if that was her usual unwillingness to transmit emotion, or if that in and of itself indicated her feelings.

  “Of course,” I said. “Your Majesty, by all means, tell us what we might do for you today.”

  “Give it to me,” Shiverlash said in her cool alto voice.

  “Give what to you?” I said in my most agreeable tone.

  “The facade with iron bones. If you no longer need it, give it to me.”

  So she’d been standing there a while, then.

  Caryl and I looked at each other, and I didn’t need to do a sidhe mind-reading trick to know that she and I were seeing the same horrific image: Shiverlash commanding an Elliott-piloted Tjuan lookalike to march around Arcadia indiscriminately destroying every spell in sight.

  I looked back at Queen Shiverlash.

  “I . . . can’t really do that,” I said tentatively. “It’s a likeness of a real, living person who is in enough trouble as it is right now. Also, Elliott took it to Arcadia, and he hasn’t come back; he was waiting for us to call him.”

  “You know the spirit’s true name, do you not? Call him now. If he can take me to this empty facade, then I will have no further need of you.”

  “Please, Your Majesty,” I said. “I know you’re impatient to free the spirits, but I’m this close to getting Winterglass on my side, having the entire Unseelie Court.”

  “I feel I have heard this tale before.”

  “For real now!” I said. “He has made me a promise. We have a plan. And we might still need that facade for it; I don’t know. But we’re going to go to the White Rose, steal something for King Winterglass. Once he has it, he’s on our side. Once he’s on our side, Dame Belinda has to surrender. Once she surrenders, Alvin’s in charge, and we figure out the best way to free the spirits.”

  Queen Shiverlash directed her facade’s gaze toward me, stared at me for a long time without speaking.

  “It was a real promise,” I said. “Once I finish this, Winterglass has to be the ally of the new Arcadia Project. Even if we decide to do things he doesn’t like. He’s tied his hands.”

  The siren tipped her head, considering. Then she said, “This is the third time you have delayed me. You were warned. You have three days to make good on this ‘plan’ of yours. After that, I will find the iron facade, and I will take it.” At that she strode down the hall toward the stairs to the Gate, her movements both graceful and grotesque, and decidedly inhuman.

  “Three days?” said Caryl in a panic once Caveat had confirmed the queen’s exit through the Gate. “I doubt we could even get a new facade made in three days, much less bring the plan to completion.”

  “We don’t have to,” I said. “All we have to do is make sure Elliott is locked down in some kind of spell before three days is up.”

  “What?”

  I went to sit with Caryl again, grabbed her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze. “The threat she made is empty. If she’d bothered to catch up on current events, to learn how facades and possession work, she would never have even made that threat.”

  “But I understand facades and possession,” said Caryl, lacing her fingers between mine, “and I still do not follow.”

  “Because you’re upset,” I said. “Stick your head in some ice cubes and think it through. She can’t just tell any old spirit to possess the facade. Shock had to set that up very carefully. Only Qualm and Elliott can even get in there. If they’re both locked down in spells, she can’t use them. Even if she uses her song to call every free spirit in both worlds to her side, the ones locked down in spells still can’t come to her.”

  “A fair point,” said Caryl, brightening.

  I nodded, then released her hand and stood. “Let’s get this show on the road,” I said, heading toward the stairs. “You driving?”

  “I shouldn’t right now.”

  I didn’t need to ask what she meant; I appreciated her self-preservation. “Then call me a cab; I’ll go get ready to play nice with Alondra.”

  • • •

  Alondra hadn’t gone far. Teo’s car was parked in the lot of an Indian-Mexican fusion diner just a few minutes from the Residence, and the cab let me out in front at about a half hour before noon. I paid my fare and got out, approached cautiously for fear my quarry might bolt; I didn’t want to find out if my fake legs could outrun her short ones. Through the glass of the narrow cafe’s front door I could just make out the dark tumble of her hair; she was at a table for two against the orange wall.

  I pushed open the door as quietly as I could and made my way over to her, plopping myself down into the chair across from her. She was about halfway through a plate of chicken tikka tacos. My stomach rumbled.

  When she saw me, her pretty face twisted. “What,�
�� she said, “did you just search every restaurant for the fat girl, one at a time?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “That makes way more sense than Tracy being worried about you and telling us where to find you.”

  She looked away, folded her arms. Tacos just sitting there.

  “Are you going to finish those?” I asked. “I’ve had nothing but coffee all morning.”

  “Get your own,” she said, pulling the plate closer, but still not touching the food on it.

  “Look,” I said. “I’m sorry about this morning. I’ve been in a constant dysphoric loop for a couple of months now. You do know what dysphoria is, right?”

  “I’ve done DBT too,” she said, still not looking at me. “Three times. Tracy made me.”

  “Well, so I’m seeing everything through this filter. Everything’s ominous; everything’s doom. It doesn’t help that a lot of things are doom.”

  “So what’s your point?”

  “My point is, it’s shitty that you were spying on us, but I don’t really think you’re trying to destroy me.”

  “Wish I could say the same.”

  I deserved that, and I knew it. I leaned back, combed my fingers through my hair. “Look,” I said. “Before I stole your phone, what did you think of us rebels?”

  Alondra sighed. “I don’t know. Caryl without Elliott worries me. She’s like . . . half child, half demon. Alvin’s always been level-headed, though; I really like him. Had a huge crush on him when we first met, actually. So when Dame Belinda said he’d gone crazy and lied about her, I was just like . . . nope.”

  “So you trust Alvin, and Alvin trusts us. He let me plan a heist, Alondra. Would he do that if I were a bad guy?”

  “I don’t think you’re a bad guy,” she said with a sigh. “I really wanted to like you, honestly. Caryl made you sound so cool. She said even before you came to the Arcadia Project and started saving the world all the time, you were making movies and stuff, you were nominated for awards.”

  I tried to look modest. “Just the one award.”

  “Still, that’s amazing. I wanted to be friends. But I could tell you hated my guts from the first day.”

  I sighed. “I’m not great at friendship,” I said. “Haven’t ever been, really. Can’t promise I ever will be. But I can try to do better at treating you like a coworker at least, all right?”

  “You . . . want me to stay?” she said, her dark eyes disbelieving. “Even after . . . what I did?”

  “You were trying to serve the Project in your own way,” I said. “You believe Dame Belinda needs to go, right? And where do you stand on the spirits?”

  “I like Caveat,” she said. “She’s one of the few people in Residence Four who actually listens to me. So yes, I’d love to figure out a way we can work with them, instead of just using them. And . . . I want to help Tjuan get out of jail, even though he’s barely ever even spoken to me.”

  “That’s just the way he is,” I said. “He’s slow to warm up. But for what it’s worth, he never lets me talk shit about you.”

  Alondra started to smile, then turned it to a frown halfway through. “Wait, why were you talking shit about me?”

  “Because I’m an asshole, Alondra, and because I’m jealous of you.”

  “Jealous? The skinny badass is jealous of me?”

  “Do you seriously want to trade bodies? Because I’d be willing to give it a whirl.”

  She laughed uneasily. “So you really want me back?”

  “Honestly, because we lost Tjuan, we may need you for the White Rose heist.”

  Her hands flew to her chest. “Are you serious?” She looked at me like I’d just cast her in Hamilton. I decided it might not be the best idea to tell her that we’d just basically run out of people.

  “You’ve shown us you can be clever, and careful,” I said. “You’ve taken risks. I think you can play the role he was going to play. We could make this work. But this means we’ll have to make a facade that looks like you, put Elliott in it. Is that going to creep you out?”

  “Honestly?” she said. “Yeah! Big time! But I don’t care—do it!”

  “If you’re sure,” I said.

  “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” she said, fanning herself with both hands. “You will not be sorry.”

  “Well, we might very well be, but it probably won’t be your fault.”

  “Seriously.” She reached out, grabbed my hand. “I won’t let you down. Thank you so much.”

  “Don’t thank me till it’s over,” I said, resisting the urge to pull my hand away. “Now finish your damn tacos before I do, and give me a ride home.”

  29

  Of course, as soon as we got Alondra back to the Residence, she started panicking about everything. First she bawled like a baby about getting her blood drawn. Then I realized I’d underestimated how much bigger around she was than Tjuan; we couldn’t get the top of the suit zipped when we tried it on.

  “Alondra,” I said, standing in front of her and holding her by the shoulders as Song continued gently trying to bring the two edges of the neoprene together in back. “Breathe. We have a seamstress at Residence One. She can—”

  “This is my fault!” she snarled. “I’m a fucking pig.” I’d never seen rage from her before; apparently it was all kept in-house. She was shaking, her pretty face blotched red. “You should just start hacking pieces off of me to make it fit.”

  “Snap out of it,” I barked, straightening like a drill instructor, grabbing my own wrist at the small of my back to keep from throttling her. “If I’m not allowed to have a breakdown right now, neither are you. Take a fucking breath, Serrano.”

  I must have sounded very commanding, because she actually inhaled deeply, then exhaled.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry!”

  “And don’t fucking apologize. Did you go to DBT or didn’t you?” I glanced irritably over her shoulder. “Song, quit it. It’s not going to fit. Tjuan is built like Gumby. We need to get Abigail on this.”

  “I’ll make some calls,” said Song.

  “I’m delaying everything,” moaned Alondra as Song began easing the sleeves back off, starting at the shoulders. Trying to pry Alondra away from self-pity was like trying to pry Monty off his cushioned window seat.

  “No, you’re not,” I said. “The bottleneck here is getting that facade; that’s going to take days. We’re just trying the suit on so we can get to work on adjustments while we wait.”

  “I can’t believe I’m already disappointing you.”

  “To be frank, Serrano, you are behaving pretty much exactly as I expected.”

  It landed like I’d slapped her.

  “Song, comfort her,” I said, and headed for the stairs. Caryl had gone to Arcadia looking for Elliott, to warn him about Shiverlash, and she was due back any time now. I couldn’t quite bring myself to climb that spiral staircase, but I listened for a moment in the part of the hallway that I knew was next to the invisible door. Not a sound from above.

  I went into my room, but left the door open behind me in case Caryl needed comforting when she got back. She hadn’t spoken to Elliott since his devastating rebuke nearly two days ago, so I wasn’t sure it would go well.

  I took a seat at my desk and pulled out the sketches I’d been making. They weren’t recognizable as anything, weren’t labeled, not just because I was afraid they’d fall into the wrong hands, but because I wasn’t trying to make storyboards here, just putting my mental process into some more tangible form. The visual artist’s version of thinking out loud.

  I traced back over the arrows I’d drawn, jotted down some numbers meant to represent approximate time frames. The asterisk meant Elliott; the dollar sign was Claybriar; the White Rose prison was a big triangle for some reason. No one had to understand but me. I was rehearsing it the only way I could, pencil moving over the paper as I visualized who would be where, and when, and how things could go wrong. Every time I thought of a new way we could screw up, I started
again, adjusted the plan.

  I don’t know exactly how long I sat there doing that, but it was dark outside when my phone rang. A generic ring; no one I was expecting. I glanced at the caller ID.

  London, England.

  The Clash merrily thumped its way into my subconscious in time with my accelerating heart.

  I probably should have let the call go to voice mail, but some self-destructive impulse made me answer it.

  “Good evening,” said Dame Belinda, although it wasn’t evening there. So thoughtful, that mental math. What a considerate lady.

  “If it isn’t my number one fan,” I said.

  “I trust you’re well? Recovered from your travels?”

  I had no idea if she knew Tjuan and I had been arrested yesterday. If not, I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. “What can you possibly want at this hour?” I said.

  “Ah, is that how we’re to behave? Very well, then. I am calling to inform you that your clever little plan has been betrayed.”

  Shit. Shit. All the shit in the world.

  I lost the feeling in my hands; I tried to work out who could possibly have leaked. Shock? Winterglass? Dawnrowan? Tracy? Shiverlash? Too many moving pieces.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” I said in my best fake British accent. I flattered myself that the ensuing hiccup in the conversation meant I’d affronted her terribly.

  “Mr. Winstanley remembered,” she said then. “The man Miss Vallo violated. Did you know that was his name?”

  “I did,” I said, leaning my head on my desk. I took deep, slow breaths. Bad, but not as bad as I’d feared.

  “Once I realized that you and Miss Vallo had been upstairs that night, I of course had my people do a thorough search. How strange, when I had to send someone to check for the Medial Vessel three times. Very clever.”

  “That’s me,” I said weakly. “Clever.”

  “We take good care of our Gates, Miss Roper,” Dame Belinda continued into my silence. “The time it will take for that artifact’s absence to be a handicap is much longer than it will take for us to thoroughly destroy your resistance. You are inconveniencing us at best.”