Deep Is the Fen, page 26
The glint goes out of Sweetpea’s eyes, her mouth narrowing to a thin, pale line. “Fine,” she said. “Be it on your head.”
* * *
—
ON MY WAY TO the workshop after breakfast, I pause outside Dr. Veil’s office. I want to make sure he isn’t here before I try to escape. His door is locked.
All traces of Lobelia’s breakdown have been cleared away. No bloodstains. Once again, Sweetpea is nowhere to be seen.
“Where did you go?” I ask her when she reappears at lunch.
“None of your business,” she says shortly.
She has a cagey look and only toys with her food.
“You’re going to get yourself into trouble,” I warn.
“Good,” she replies. “That’s what I’m here for.”
I have no time to respond to this, because Dr. Veil is walking into the dining room. Every head turns to look at him. One hundred witches smile placidly and dab their napkins at the corners of their mouths.
“Ladies,” he says, his tone fond and fatherly. “It’s lovely to see you all, as always. I’m delighted by the progress you’re all making. You should all be very proud.”
The women break out into light, pattering applause, which stops after precisely five seconds.
“On a more serious note,” Dr. Veil continues, his brows creasing in a frown, “it seems that a theft has taken place. Someone has broken into my office and stolen something very dear to me. I’m afraid it will need to be returned at once.”
I don’t dare look at Sweetpea. There’s a long silence while the women look curiously around. Then a witch raises her hand.
“Yes, Clematis?” Dr. Veil says, smiling indulgently. “Do you have something to share?”
“Dr. Veil, I saw Delphinium trying to open your office door just this morning.”
It takes a moment for me to remember that I am Delphinium. Dr. Veil’s eyes turn to me, his forehead creased in surprise and disappointment.
“I—I was just checking if you were in,” I stammer to Dr. Veil. “I didn’t—”
“Please stand up, Delphinium.”
I stand, still trying to explain. “As soon as I found the door locked, I—”
Dr. Veil holds up a hand, and I fall silent. “I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding,” he says. “But perhaps you could turn out your pockets, just so we can be sure?”
I shrug. Caraway’s toadstone is tucked safely under my pillow. I slip my hands into my pockets and instantly recoil as I feel something brush my right hand. Something alive.
“Show us, please, Delphinium.”
Gingerly, I withdraw the thing in my pocket and hold it out to him, my blood running cold.
It’s a toad.
It’s tiny, not much larger than my thumb, dark brown with a red splash on its back. Its throat bulges and it lets out a high-pitched croaking sound.
It takes all my self-control not to drop it and scream.
Dr. Veil gently removes it from my palm, cradling it in his own hand. Then he looks up at me. “I’m very disappointed in you, Delphinium.”
“I didn’t—” I say. “I don’t know how it got there.”
But I do. I look over at Sweetpea, who is staring back at me, her eyes wide and innocent. She shakes her head.
“Stealing is wrong,” she says with a childlike lisp.
“Delphinium, please follow me to my office,” Dr. Veil says. “We have matters to discuss.”
My insides turn watery and I taste bland Ilium stew in the back of my throat as Dr. Veil turns and heads back to the corridor.
Sweetpea watches me, totally unashamed.
“Traitor,” I mutter.
She shrugs. “We could have been on the same side. It’s not too late.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lobelia, her hands fluttering gently in front of her, her eyes vacant. The other witches have turned back to their meals. The glazed, placid expressions on their faces remind me of…
Da.
Da, who had a wedding ring on his finger that I’d never seen before.
“Wait,” I say to Sweetpea. “Help me.”
“Help yourself.”
She walks away, and I have no choice but to follow Dr. Veil.
* * *
—
“I THOUGHT WE HAD an understanding, Delphinium,” Dr. Veil says as he sinks into the chair behind his desk. “But you lied to me.”
He’s still holding the tiny toad cupped in one hand and is stroking its back gently with his thumb.
“You lied to me too,” I reply. “You’re a Toad. The wedding rings that all the women here wear—my da had one too, back in Deeping Fen.” I swallow down the tears that threaten to rise at the mention of Da. “That’s why you don’t need guards, right? The rings make the witches docile.”
A corner of his thin mouth lifts in a smile, and he leans forward. “I can take away your witch sight,” he says. “I know you don’t want it. Let me help you.”
“Like you helped Lobelia?”
His eyes turn down with exaggerated regret. “I can’t save everyone,” he says. “Some of them won’t accept the therapy. But you will, Delphinium. I have a good feeling about you.”
He places the toad carefully on his desk, then reaches into a drawer, pulling out a large black hook. I stiffen. I know what it’s for.
“I won’t give it willingly,” I warn him.
Dr. Veil sticks his bottom lip out in a disappointed pout. “That’s a real shame,” he says. “It hurts more if you’re not willing, did you know?”
Before I can answer, he swings the hook at me, and I feel it snag on one of my strings. Dr. Veil’s eyes gleam as he pulls, my string growing taut.
A cry of pain slips from my mouth, and his mouth curves in a smile. “Does it hurt so very much?” he asks, his cheeks flushing an ugly, mottled red.
I long to turn threadwise and let the mettle tide drag me away from my body, from this pain. But I can’t. I know I might never come back if I give in to it.
My string gives way with a snap that I feel in every single part of me. A bit of my life, gone. I know it won’t grow back. Whatever I am from this day forth, I will be less than I was.
The grief of it is almost unbearable. How can the Toads give it so freely? How could Teddy? I’ve seen him gift two strings now, and he would have given a third on the night of the ball if I hadn’t stopped him. How many have those senior Toads given? How many has Caraway?
My string curls in on itself to form a ball, which Dr. Veil catches in a little silver dish.
“Just relax,” he says. “This next part takes a few minutes.”
He picks up the tiny toad again, gentle as Da with a newborn chick.
“It’s a painted natterjack,” Dr. Veil informs me conversationally. “Terribly poisonous, you know. Tetrodotoxin. Can kill you in five minutes, and let me tell you, it’s not an easy death. But they are useful creatures. Quite extraordinary, really.”
He picks up my string with his free hand. I watch, horrified, as he pokes the coiled string into the toad’s mouth. The string is nearly as large as the toad, but within seconds it is gone. I feel a kind of woozy sickness envelop me, and a foul-tasting belch erupts from my throat.
“Manners,” Dr. Veil says mildly.
My skin breaks out into a clammy sweat.
Dr. Veil raises the toad to his lips. “Thank you for your service,” he whispers to it. Then he pulls a sharp scalpel from a container I assumed held pens. With one smooth stroke, he slits the toad’s belly open. Bright blood spills onto the silver dish as the toad jerks once, twice. Dr. Veil peels back the flesh of it, and there is a clunk as a bloody lump falls from the toad’s belly into the silver dish.
Dr. Veil discards the corpse of the toad and wipes the blood from the lump with a soft cloth.
It’s a toadstone. So that’s how they’re made.
Dr. Veil produces a golden ring from a little drawer.
“We’re making a pact, you and I,” Dr. Veil says. “You have gifted me this stone, and in exchange I give you this ring. It’s a pledge. A promise. That I’ll help you. Heal you from the damage magic has wrought on your soul. I’ll make you pure again, my dear.”
I stand so fast that I knock the chair over. But before I can even turn to run, cool hands are on me. Witches, their eyes vacant and their smiles mild.
Dr. Veil holds out the ring, and I’m back in the Deeping Court again.
No matter what I do, I can’t escape it.
“I won’t be the Fox Bride,” I say through clenched teeth.
Dr. Veil smiles. “Don’t worry, Delphinium,” he says. “You’re no bride. Just a bridesmaid.”
He catches up my hand in his and slips the ring onto my finger.
It’s like the opposite of Sebrium. My world seems to shrink, and I’m overcome by a rosy, comfortable glow. Thoughts start to evaporate from my mind. I’m sinking into a soft and fluffy cloud. I start to relax, grief and tension flowing from my body, leaving nothing but lightness and contentment.
Then Dr. Veil holds up the stone, and I flinch away from it, revulsion rising in me. I taste pond water, and my skin turns clammy. I can’t bear to look at it and turn my head, whimpering.
“Yes,” Dr. Veil whispers. “Turn away from it. From your magic. It has poisoned you. Do you see now?”
“T-take it away,” I stammer. “Please.”
“Of course.”
Dr. Veil opens a simple metal box on his desk. It’s full of toadstones, a hundred or more.
The sight of them all makes me cry out with horror. They are oily and foul. The air is wretched with the stench of them.
Dr. Veil drops my stone in and snaps the lid closed.
Instantly, the rosy glow returns, and it’s like the stones were never there. I want to forget about them, about how they made me feel.
So I do.
“Turn witch-eyed,” Dr. Veil commands.
I shake my head. “I—I don’t want to.”
No more magic for me. Not ever.
“Just try,” he says. “Just for a moment.”
I refocus my eyes to look threadwise, but nothing happens. I try again.
“I can’t do it,” I say.
Dr. Veil smiles. “Good.”
I feel a wave of relief. The witch’s curse is gone.
I’m free.
I touch the ring, simple shining gold and so beautiful. I try to tug it off so I can admire it better, but it won’t budge from my finger.
“You can’t take it off,” Dr. Veil tells me. “You’re going to stay here, with me.”
“Thank you, Dr. Veil,” I say.
He smiles at me. “I bet you feel better already.”
“I do.”
So much better. Better than I have in months.
I’m not sure what I was so sad about before. I don’t remember. I just feel…content.
15.
I go back to work and pull petals from flowers. I don’t get tired.
I eat my dinner, and it’s delicious.
I go to bed and close my eyes, expecting to sink further into the soft rosy clouds.
But there’s something in the bed with me.
I can smell it. Slimy algae and ancient peat. Throbbing. Calling to me.
The poison of magic.
I want to be free of it. I’ve never wanted anything so badly.
I sit up, lighting the lamp on my bedside table, and pull back my pillow.
Another stone.
Revulsion overcomes me, and I dry-heave, scrambling back away from it. I need it to be gone. Away.
But I know I can’t touch it. This knowledge sits in me like lead. If I touch it, it will take me back. Poison me once more. I wrap my hand in layer upon layer of linen and, flinchingly, bat it from my bed.
I’d love to flush it down the toilet or hurl it from the window, but I daren’t pick it up. So instead I roll it into the bathroom and pile towels and linens on top of it. Once it’s out of sight, the pulsing, fetid call of it lessens. I close the bathroom door and crawl back into bed.
Sweat has broken out on my forehead.
Tomorrow, I’ll tell Dr. Veil.
But for now, I want to forget about the stone.
So I do.
The rosy clouds rise around me once more, and I sink into a dreamless sleep.
Everything is fine.
* * *
—
SWEETPEA SEEKS ME OUT in the garden the next morning after breakfast. “We need to talk,” she mutters, dragging me off behind the foxgloves.
“Good morning, Sweetpea,” I say. “It’s so nice to see you.”
“Shut up.”
“You seem upset,” I observe. “You should go and talk to Dr. Veil. He made me feel so much better.”
“What did he do to you?” she asks. “When he gave you the ring? Do you remember anything?”
I shake my head and smile.
Sweetpea slaps me across the face, hard. The bright pain cuts through my rosy contentment for a moment, and I put my hand over my burning cheek, my mouth falling open in indignation.
“Why did you—”
But before I can continue, Sweetpea crams a handful of peppery herbs into my mouth. I taste the sharp mintiness of pennyroyal, and suddenly I feel exhausted and shivery, like I have the flu. Fen water rises in my throat, and the ghost of a drowned memory rises along with it.
“He took something from you,” Sweetpea says. “What was it?”
I look at her, my sight clouded with silt. “There’s something in my room,” I murmur, and every word feels like a boulder in my mouth. “Something dangerous. I have to tell Dr. Veil.”
I shudder and spit out the pennyroyal, turning to head inside, but Sweetpea grabs my arm.
“Let me help you,” she says, her voice suddenly gentle. “I’ll get it from your room and take it to Dr. Veil. No need for you to get any more upset.”
I smile at her, calm once more. “Thank you, Sweetpea,” I say.
She’s a good girl.
* * *
—
I WORK. I EAT. I admire the flowers.
When I return to my room at the end of the day, everything seems fine. I hesitate in the doorway to the little bathroom, a hint of uncertainty clouding my rosy glow.
But I don’t see anything. Just the bath, the toilet and the vanity. Neatly folded towels on a brass rail.
It must have been a bad dream.
* * *
—
SWEETPEA FINDS ME AGAIN in the garden the next morning.
“Good morning, my friend,” I say in greeting.
Sweetpea makes a disgusted sound in the back of her throat and pulls something from her pocket. A small, round stone, the size of a marble.
I freeze, suddenly rooted to the spot. Foul water rises in my throat, and I shrink away from her. From it.
“T-take it away,” I stammer. “Please.”
“What is it?” Sweetpea asks. “What does it do?”
The revolting, throbbing call of it fills my head. I have to get away.
Sweetpea grabs me by the waistband of my skirt and yanks me back into place. For someone so small, she certainly is strong.
Tears slip down my cheeks. “Please,” I beg her. “I can’t.”
“What is it?”
I shake my head.
Cold sweat breaks out on my brow. Sweetpea holds the wretched thing out to me, and my knees begin to tremble.
“Don’t let it touch me.”
She narrows her eyes and grabs my hand. I gibber incoherently as she forces my fingers open, one by one.
Dizziness engulfs me and black spots dance before my eyes.
Then she forces the stone into my palm, and suddenly, Da is dead and I’m drowning.
The rosy clouds turn to liquid, deep and impossibly sweet. I can’t breathe. I kick and struggle against it, but it’s thick as honey, and every movement takes so much effort.
Everything hurts so much. My lungs. My heart. Every memory comes rushing back and it’s all pain and suffering and grief.
“Help me,” I gasp to Sweetpea, and then it pulls me under again.
Dimly I can hear her shouting, but I can’t make out any of the words. Can’t see anything except the sickly-sweet pull of my impending death.
The rosy ocean is full of nightmares. The horror of the nightmare ball in Deeping Fen. Caraway, his toad eye staring at me. The light draining from Da’s eyes.
I thrash out again, kicking with all my strength, breaking the surface and taking in a gasping lungful of air.
“Ring,” I manage to say to Sweetpea, and thrust my hand toward her.
She tugs at it, but it won’t budge. “What’s going on?” she says, exasperated.
I get it now. But I don’t have the breath to explain it all. “Not…my…stone,” I gasp.
Sweetpea is smart. Her eyes narrow as she looks at the stone in my hand. “It’s a string. He makes their strings into these stones.” She speaks slowly, like she has all the time in the world and I’m not drowning right in front of her. “You need your own stone to take the ring off. But someone else’s stone does…something interesting. You can think again, right?”
It’s taking all my effort to stay above the deep pull of the rosy tide. “Can’t think. Can’t breathe.”
“Great,” she says, and snatches the stone back from my hand.
The sweet liquid evaporates into clouds, and I almost sob with relief as I stop fighting and all the misery of the real world drains away.
Sweetpea is muttering to herself, but I don’t listen. I’m just enjoying floating around again in rosy contentment.
I feel so good.
“We’ve got to get in there,” Sweetpea says. “You’re no use to me like this, except maybe as bait.”
