Monachopsis | Chapter Three: Driftel (2/2)

Waking up felt like a slap in the face. Madder’s lungs seized up; she rolled off the bed and clawed her way up the wall in a haze of coughing. Her knees shook but didn’t give out as she straightened the rest of the way up and stumbled into Driftel’s main room.

The events of the last—however long it had been—trickled back into her memory. Running away. Collapsing. The other her. Percy going for help that Madder didn’t want or need.

She took a deep, salt-tinged breath. Without any idea of how long she’d been unconscious, Madder couldn’t begin to guess how much time she had left; the interior of Driftel looked the same as it had when she came in with Percy, so it couldn’t have been too long. Forcing down the icy tendrils of panic, Madder oriented herself toward the exit—a distant rectangle of bright light piercing the dim blue haze that filled most of the room—and stepped forward.

One step. Two. Three. Four. Every time her left foot came down, a jolt of electricity dragged its way up to her knee, and her other foot prickled and burned no matter what she did. Her hands felt itchy; a glance at them revealed a messy, blood-stained bandage, and Percy’s words floated, unbidden, through her thoughts.

She’d been clawing at them while the other her drove needles into her flesh.

Her chest shook. Madder could feel boiling tears gathering in her eyes; if she stopped moving for even a second, she’d collapse on the floor and start howling like the child she’d seen in the other reality. Maybe she’d fly apart into jagged shards like the ones in the rowboat; maybe there was nothing inside her but air and slime and her remains would dissipate into steam once released from the confines of her skin.

Madder scrubbed the sleeve of her good arm across her eyes and told herself furiously to stop thinking nonsense. She was out of sorts because of the other her; that was all.

Wasn’t it?

She was halfway to the exit when the Red Queen stepped through the archway; ce had to duck to get under it, and ce blotted out most of the sunlight filtering through. Behind cir, Madder could just make out a sliver of Percy’s face, peeking around the queen’s waist with wide, frightened eyes.

Madder froze. The Red Queen saw her almost at once, and cir sharp gaze pinned Madder in place on the catwalk. Her blood thudded in her ears.

Percy broke the tension first, by squeezing around the queen and darting across the catwalks to fling her arms around Madder, knocking the air out of Madder’s lungs and throwing her off balance. “You’re okay!”

“It doesn’t do to be over-hasty in one’s judgements,” the Red Queen said, in a low voice that nonetheless carried over the general hum of conversation. Cir chain mail clinked as ce approached, glinting blue in the shifting light of the ceiling. “Let her breathe, Percy.”

“I was so worried,” Percy whispered. She stepped back, keeping one arm around Madder’s waist, her eyes brimming with concern. Madder looked at the boards between her toes and said nothing, wishing she’d had the sense to hide instead of trying to outrun them. The tears were starting to leak from her eyes, cutting grooves into her cheeks as they dripped down. It took all of her concentration not to crumble on the spot.

The Red Queen lay a hand on Madder’s shoulder. “Come. This is not a discussion for the ears of any but those involved.” Ce made an about-face toward the door forward, sweeping Madder along in cir wake. Percy trotted behind them, one hand still pressed to the small of Madder’s back.

No chance to escape.

They led her out of Driftel and further up the beach, to a rough semicircle of dark rocks protruding from the sand. Percy directed Madder onto one of the flatter ones and settled down beside her, looping an arm around her waist and settling her cheek on Madder’s shoulder.

“Your hand,” the Red Queen said. Madder, blinking, extended her injured hand and then watched with vague surprise while the queen scooped it up and began to unwind the dirtied bandage. Cir hands were warm and rough from callouses, though gentler than Madder would’ve expected.

“I don’t want to go back,” Madder whispered, wiping more tears away with her other hand. It didn’t seem as though she was being punished; maybe getting caught wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.

“The my court is not in the habit of taking prisoners,” the Red Queen said. Ce finished removing the bandages and laid them aside, then looked up at Madder sharply. “I do hope you had enough sense to bring a medical kit?”

“I—yes.” Feeling numb, Madder wriggled out of the straps of her bag—Percy helped—and slung it around to her lap. “It’s right on top.”

“Hm.” The Red Queen said no more than that for several minutes, concentrating instead on daubing away the crusts of dried blood that coated Madder’s palm, resettling the torn flap of skin, and spreading an antiseptic goo over the area. Ce had steadier fingers than Healer Carmine, which Madder wouldn’t have thought possible.

“You are aware, of course,” ce said as ce drew a roll of gauze from the medical kit, “that Healer Carmine planned to test your blood for anomalies that might indicate an underlying illness.” Cir tone did not make it a question, but Madder nodded anyway, her eyes fixed on the gauze as the queen wound it loosely around her hand. “Well. Not an hour ago he fed the first few drops to one of his best tasters—a sect of nurses, trained to identify dozens of common disorders.”

“Oh.”

The Red Queen clipped the gauze into place and secured cir hand around Madder’s wrist. Percy’s arm tightened around her waist. “It died, Madder.”

Madder’s eyes snapped up to meet the Red Queen’s blank gaze. Not a twitch of expression gave away what the queen might be thinking; ce just blinked once and leaned even closer. Lips barely moving, ce continued, “Your blood paralyzed it, systematically shut down its internal organs, and killed it inside of half an hour.” Ce tilted cir head to one side. A tiny smile touched cir lips. “The symptoms and the speed with which they kill suggest that your blood contains neurotoxins potent enough to rival the more deadly flora of the Mog Islands.”

“…I’m poisonous,” Madder said. Something cold enough to burn had reached into her chest while the queen spoke and scooped everything out; all that remained was a hollow cavity of swirling air.

“It’s not as bad as you think,” Percy said at once. “Sangria touched your blood, and lots of the nurses, and me, and we’re all fine. It’s only if someone tries to drink it or it gets inside through a cut or something that it’s dangerous.”

“So it seems,” the Red Queen said. Ce released Madder’s wrist and began to repack the medical kit.

Madder did not find this in the least bit comforting. The storm raging in her chest had spread throughout her body, hollowing her out until she was nothing but skin and bone and air and blood screaming in her ears. Blood that could kill people. She remembered the blood she’d seen smeared on her own hand hours ago and cradled her bandaged hand to her chest, frantic; her arm was a pattern of waxy-white and black dribbles of dried blood, and the bandages a rust-brown mess because she’d bled through them.

All of it poisonous.

She became aware that she was shaking when the Red Queen placed a hand on her shoulder. “You are not to blame for the taster’s death,” ce said. “You did not know—that much is quite clear—and were therefore unable to offer a warning. It was not your fault.”

Her heart contracted. Madder squirmed out of Percy’s grip and ducked around the queen, but she didn’t get much farther than that because her knees couldn’t support her. Shocks of pain exploded in her palms when she hit the sand. Percy followed her, of course, and Madder found she didn’t have the energy to shake off this embrace. She slumped into it instead, more tears bubbling in her eyes.

“Madder.” The Red Queen’s voice could have cut glass. Madder squinted up at cir through a teary blur. “Come back to Queensquare. Over the years we have created antidotes for countless foul things that reside in the Manxsome Swamp, for the deadly toxins of the Agate Bolete, even for the noxious fogs breathed out by the Sleeping Moths in the Forest of Names.” Ce tipped the medical kit back into Madder’s bag and rose to cir full height, towering over them. “We can find an antidote for you.”

Madder swallowed against the lump in her throat. “But it means something’s wrong with me. That I’m dangerous, and—and some kind of monster.”

“You can’t reason with monsters,” Percy said, giving her a little shake. “That’s what makes them monsters. They don’t care about who they hurt or how much they destroy.”

“But—”

“My niece is correct, and you’d do well to listen to her,” the Red Queen said. Ce lifted one heavy eyebrow, and Madder shivered. Percy stroked her arm and pulled her a little closer.

She stared at the sand for a while. Both Percy and the Red Queen appeared content to wait for her to make up her mind without input; the problem was that her thoughts kept flying around in odd directions, flitting between random images—sunlight flashing off of a closing car door, shimmery air over asphalt, scuffed shoes that didn’t quite fit—and the feeble insistence that she was sick to death of Queensquare and being coddled.

But didn’t she deserve to be locked up, if she could kill people that easily?

(—finally cried nemself out, but her hand had started bleeding again—)

Madder flinched. Her own hand gave a sympathetic twinge as the sensation of the other her slipped in and out of focus. A sink. A damp washcloth pressed over the cut. She could feel the sharp sting from the pressure.

“I—” Her voice cracked. Madder held her breath and blinked furiously until the only thing filling her vision was the beach, then tried again. “I’ll go back to Queensquare,” she whispered.

Only until there was an antidote. Then she’d leave again, this time forever.

Once she was safe.