Girl Who Never Was Page 18

  I force a smile, trying to look more confident than I feel. “Can’t keep a traveler away from a door.”

  Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. My mother seems to expand with rage, but at least she is focused on me and not finding Ben. I don’t think Ben could handle another naming right now.

  I brace myself for whatever is about to happen, but what happens is that from somewhere in the distance comes the gentle and unmistakable toll of a church bell. My mother’s eyes widen in reaction, but I am unprepared for the fact that I feel it shudder through me too. I realize my mistake at that moment: part of me is Seelie. The church bells will affect me too. But I barely have time to digest this before the wall behind me disintegrates and I tumble through, falling in an inelegant heap onto a hard marble floor.

  I make an involuntary oof noise, the wind knocked out of me. And I am still trying to recover from that when a voice gasps at me, “Selkie! I found you!”

  I look up, wondering if I am ever going to reach the limits of my amazement, and ask curiously, as if it can’t possibly be true, “Kelsey?”

  CHAPTER 25

  “Will said the silver bough would lead me straight to you, but I didn’t really believe him; he says a lot of stuff, and your aunts argue with basically everything he says, anyway.”

  I can’t make this sentence make sense because there’s too much else that needs to make sense first. “What are you doing here?”

  “Saving you, of course,” she says.

  “We…What…” I feel like someone’s hit me over the head and the world hasn’t stopped vibrating yet. “But where are my aunts? Where’s Will?”

  “Will had to stay with the hot air balloon. And your aunts were busy arguing over which one of them would come save you, so I just took the silver bough and kind of…ran.” She holds something up, and I notice it for the first time—what looks like a healthy branch of a beech tree, only forged entirely out of silver.

  I blink at it. “That’s the silver bough I sent you?”

  “Yeah, it’s amazing, isn’t it? It was tiny when Fidelia brought us the package, but it’s been growing ever since—”

  “Who’s Fidelia?”

  “Oh, the bat.”

  “The bat has a name?”

  “They all have names. Wait until I tell you everything that’s happened since you left. It turns out the Boston Sewing Circle’s not entirely evil; they’re just mildly unpleasant—maybe slightly more than mildly. But it’s mostly because Will broke the Threader’s heart several centuries or minutes ago, depending on who’s telling the story. And let me tell you, finding that out did not make your Aunt True happy. Apparently Will has quite the reputation. Anyway, once the Threader and your aunt bonded over hating Will, she was actually pretty helpful. The Threader was the only one who could figure out how to get through the Seelie enchantments to you. Apparently, the Threaders used to be in pretty constant contact with the Seelie Court, so the Threader managed to figure out how to slip through. But we don’t have time for all this right now; we’ve got to go. Safford’s waiting. And your aunts and Will are supposed to be holding the hot air balloon in place until we can get back. Once we’re away from here, I’ll fill you in on everything.”

  “You know Safford?”

  “Just met him.”

  I have too many more questions that I want to ask, starting with how a sliver of glass had turned into a silver beech tree branch, but I guess escaping is the more important thing. I struggle to my feet. We are in an empty hallway. The wall I’d tumbled through is solid once more, but I know it’s only a matter of time until my mother and her army of animals—or one of the other Seelies—finds us. “Where’s Ben?” I ask.

  Kelsey looks confused. “I don’t know.”

  “You didn’t pass him, maybe, in the hall? Tall, dark hair, wearing several coats.”

  Kelsey looks at me like I’m crazy. I want to tell her that she doesn’t seem all that sane to me right now, so she doesn’t have to be judgmental about it. “I haven’t seen anyone. Just you.”

  “This place is a maze. We’ll never find Ben,” I despair.

  “Look what happens, though, when you ring the bell.”

  “Ring the bell?” I echo, because it occurs to me at that moment that I don’t see a church bell anywhere in the hallway.

  Kelsey pulls what looks like a walnut out of her pocket and tickles it. I decide maybe she really has lost her mind, but then the walnut abruptly becomes a huge church bell, suspended in space there in the corridor. Kelsey rings it enthusiastically.

  The clang of it sends me careening against the wall, breathless. It feels a little like Kelsey rang my brain.

  “Don’t do that anymore,” I manage to tell her. I vaguely register that she has stroked a finger down the side of it, that it’s turned back into a walnut.

  “We have to, Selkie. Didn’t you see what happened when I hit it?”

  I was too busy trying not to tumble to the floor in an undignified heap to look around. “What happened when you hit it?”

  “Almost everything disappears. All these doors, everything. You can see the way out clearly.”

  That makes sense, actually, I realize vaguely. The Seelies’ enchantment is what makes this place a labyrinth; the bell is cutting through it. The problem is the bell is also cutting through me. I can barely think, and I have a new appreciation for how frustrated Ben must have been when he was trying to come up with a plan while wet.

  “There you are! Come on!” Someone comes dashing into the corridor, grabbing my hand, and I realize it’s Ben, although it could also be a hallucination, because it has that same quality. “Time to go,” I hear him say to Kelsey, grabbing her hand as well. And then he looks at me more closely. I am stumbling in his wake, not quite able to catch my balance. “What’s the matter with you?” he asks, sounding a little annoyed.

  I shake my head because I don’t have the words for what is wrong with me, not really. He slows, drawing to a halt and looking down at me. His eyes are bright and blue, no, green, no, gray, no—dizzy, I tip toward him.

  “Selkie,” he says sharply, catching my chin between his fingers so he can tip my face toward him. “Breathe. What happened to you? What did your mother do to you?”

  My tongue feels thick. I realize that this whole thing is more like a severe allergic reaction than I had guessed when I had referred to it as such. And he’s right: I am having trouble breathing. “Kelsey,” I mumble at him, annoyed that I can’t get my voice any louder, gesturing clumsily in her direction.

  His eyes slide toward Kelsey, and I realize that Kelsey must have taken the opportunity of our pausing to ring her bell again. It sends a shudder through me, but I can see the moment when Ben connects the dots; it is there in his blue-gray-greenish eyes. “The bell,” he realizes, and then urgently to her, “Don’t ring that bell anymore.”

  It’s too late though, because she’s rung it that one more time, and I feel like I am falling. Maybe I am falling. I think that I hit the floor, and I can feel Ben over me, swimming in and out of focus, but I am so tired and I wish he would let me sleep.

  “But why?” I hear Kelsey ask him.

  “It’s weakening her, can’t you see?” Ben bites back impatiently. “Selkie,” he says to me, but it sounds very, very far away, and I can’t seem to answer him.

  “The church bells never bothered her in Boston,” says Kelsey.

  “I was protecting her in Boston. And anyway, she’s been here a long time; her Seelie blood is stronger now.” Ben has stood up, is no longer in my vision, and I let myself close my eyes for a moment.

  “Can’t you protect her here?”

  “No.” Ben’s voice is short.

  “Can you carry her?” Kelsey’s voice is so far away. I feel that I am drifting.

  “I can’t carry her and also outrun Seelies, and they’re right on our
heels now. You should go, get out. I’ll take care of Selkie.”

  “I’m not leaving her. I didn’t come all this way just to—”

  “We do not have a choice,” Ben snaps. “I cannot save both of you—”

  “You don’t have to save either of us, thank you very much,” Kelsey retorts hotly.

  I manage to get my eyes open—I have the vague idea that I am going to referee this fight that’s going on, although I don’t know what I’m going to say—and what I see is my mother suddenly swirl into the room with a jangle of chiming bells and snap, “Benedict Le Fay.”

  Ben doubles over with a gasp of reaction, reaching out a hand against the wall to keep from toppling over entirely. I try to tell Kelsey to ring the damn bell again, regardless of what it’s going to do to me, and Kelsey seems to have the same idea, and she goes to lift up the walnut, but my mother descends upon her, moving with that fleet quickness of a Seelie, knocking the walnut out of her hand and beyond her reach. Kelsey gasps, struggling, but my mother grabs the silver bough and breaks it in half. Kelsey manages to get a solid kick in, and my mother lets her go, taking a step backward, and then she says silkily, “You don’t belong here, do you? No. You don’t. In fact, you should turn around and walk off the cliff of Mag Mell, fall into the embrace of the dark land below.”

  I stare in horror as Kelsey seems to go blank and limp. She nods vacantly at my mother, turns, and seemingly walks straight through a wall.

  “What did you do?” I cry, struggling to my feet. “Kelsey!” I shout. “Kelsey! Come back here! What did you do to her?” I whirl on my mother, desperate.

  “I have done,” says my mother, “what Seelies do. What we do. We get everyone else to do as we wish. Selkie Stewart.”

  I hear the small cry I make in reaction, but naming me is, oddly, the best thing she could have done, because the pain of it drives away the black sleepiness at the edges of my vision. I can see her clearly, her arms with her jingling bells folded, smiling her anti-smile. Behind her I can see the copper-armored animals and more Seelies, gathering now, their eyes all flashing pale fury at me. And I am not her. I am not them. I know that I am not. It crystallizes inside of me.

  “Did you think it would be so easy? A Seelie escaping the Seelie Court? You belong here.”

  “No.” I shake my head, trying to pull together my scattered thoughts. “I don’t. I’m not like you.”

  “You are me.”

  “What have you done to my friend?”

  “Nothing. I took away her church bell, of course, that was rude of her to bring here. And then I sent her home. Such a nuisance to have around, all these vermin underfoot. It’s gotten awfully crowded here. We have ogres at our front door. And as for you. Did your precious Benedict abandon you?” she asks, smiling widely. “That is so like a faerie.”

  I look around, and she’s right—Ben is nowhere to be seen.

  “Oh, Selkie. This was foretold. This is part of your prophecy, my dear.” She walks slowly forward. I stand my ground warily. She reaches her hand out, draws a finger along the curve of my cheek. I jerk my head away. “It was foretold, in this prophecy you want to come true so desperately, this prophecy where you silence the bells of the Seelie Court…” She leans even closer, her lips now directly at my ear, and she whispers, “Benedict Le Fay will betray you. And then he will die.”

  “No,” I say, and then I shout it. “No.”

  Surprise widens my mother’s translucent eyes, and then she is flung away from me, hitting the wall opposite us hard. The animals in their copper armor scatter in what I take to be fright, and the other Seelies behind her seem undecided what to do, unclear what has happened, the same way I am. My mother screams with rage, trying to collect herself from the tangle of her bell-chiming skirts. Thunder rumbles over our heads, and a white horse wheels around the corner, rears up. There is a brief pause, and I realize that Ben is riding it. Ben blinks at my shaken mother, still in a heap on the floor, and at the Seelies and their entourage, indecisive and clearly terrified. Then Ben spurs the horse onward, its hooves sending up copper-colored sparks along the marble floor as it gallops toward us. We all watch its breakneck approach, and I am as surprised as anyone when Ben, without breaking stride, leans down from his perch on the horse’s back and swings me up in front of him, as if he has practiced this a million times before, this white-steed rescue of the damsel in distress.

  “A horse,” I say, clutching to his coats, because I am not steady to begin with and the headlong gait of the animal underneath us is not helping matters. “How’d you manage that?”

  “I have my ways,” he replies grimly. “Never mind that. How did you do that to your mother?”

  “I did that?” I can’t even process that.

  Ben doesn’t answer. “Hold tight,” he says.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re escaping.”

  “No. We can’t. We have to find Kelsey.”

  “What?” He glances at me quickly then turns his attention back to the horse’s headlong path. “Where did she go?”

  “I don’t know. My mother told her to jump off the cliff.”

  “Then she’s going to jump off the cliff.”

  “What? Ben!”

  He winces a bit. “Please watch my name. I’m a bit sensitive at the moment. And we’ll intercept Kelsey at the cliff. It’s the only thing we can do.”

  “Why would she jump off the cliff?”

  “Because that’s how Seelies work. They convince you that you want things you don’t actually want. And it’s easy to do when you’ve got no power of your own to contest it with. Now take a deep breath and keep doing it. Breathe.”

  Suddenly we are surrounded by air. It is fresh air, and I realize that I have not taken a breath of fresh air since stepping into the Seelie Court. Even the air coming in through the windows was too heavily enchanted to count as breathing. I take a deep, heady breath of it, and it seems to stop my head from swimming a bit. I twist and realize that Ben is heading for the hot air balloon suspended in thin air over Mag Mell. Will and my aunts are standing in it, and some of the copper-armored animals keep trying to launch themselves at it and are being repelled. Some kind of force field? Do my aunts have that capability?

  But I don’t see Kelsey. I twist around, looking to the other side, and there she is, moving relentlessly through the army of animals, unerringly toward the cliff. It’s like she doesn’t even notice they’re around her.

  “There she is,” I tell Ben, gesturing.

  Ben glances in her direction, changes the horse’s path. He slows the horse as we reach Kelsey, but I don’t wait for him to stop. I slide off as soon as I can, ignoring the grab Ben makes for me. I lunge for Kelsey, grab her, but it’s like she’s made of water; I can’t get a grip. She keeps walking and walking and walking, and the cliff is ever closer. I scream her name, but she doesn’t budge.

  I turn to Ben, desperate. “Stop her! You have to stop her!”

  “I can’t,” Ben says helplessly. “I can’t break your mother’s enchantment.”

  Kelsey is at the cliff’s edge now. I reach for her, find my arms swiping through thin air. I scream her name again.

  She takes a step off the cliff, but she doesn’t tumble. It’s as if she steps onto solid ground, even though she is standing in midair. I blink at her.

  “I can’t keep her afloat very long,” Ben says behind me, and I look at him. His face is grim with concentration.

  “You’re doing that?”

  “Yes,” he affirms shortly. “But it’s no good with your mother’s enchantment on her. It’s just buying us time. And I’m not a hundred percent yet; I can’t do this for very long.”

  My mother’s enchantment. I think of the last time I broke my mother’s enchantment. It’s the only thing I can do. The only chance we have. “Mother!” I shout at the top of my lu
ngs, pouring all of my terror and hostility into it.

  Kelsey shakes her head, looks down at the floor of the valley an impossible distance below her, then looks at me, her eyes wide with terror. She is herself; she is there; she is out of it.

  “Oh, well done,” I hear Ben breathe, and Kelsey is just starting to scramble her way back to the cliff’s edge when my mother’s voice snaps out, “Benedict Le Fay.”

  Kelsey tumbles, and I react without thinking, throwing myself toward the edge of the cliff and catching her hand before she can fall entirely. I am sprawled out painfully on my stomach, rocks digging into me, and my arms are burning as I cling both my hands to Kelsey’s. Kelsey looks up at me desperately, her legs scuffling uselessly against the edge of the cliff, trying to gain a toehold.

  And then there is the hot air balloon underneath her, Safford piloting it, Will and my aunts in it. Will reaches up, grabs Kelsey around her waist, and I almost collapse with relief as Kelsey is pulled safely into the hot air balloon.

  “Jump!” Aunt Virtue calls up to me, cupping her hands around her mouth.

  “Jump!” Aunt True echoes her.

  The hot air balloon’s altitude increases, floating up toward me, and I know that it would mean safety, but I turn to look for Ben and find him several yards away from me, facing off with my mother warily.

  I look back at my aunts, who read my thoughts.

  “Leave him!” Aunt Virtue calls, but there’s no way I can.

  There’s simply no way.

  I pull myself to my feet and walk over to where Ben is and stand next to him. His breaths are tearing and ragged, and I wonder how many times she’s named him. He is, at least, keeping his feet, even though he seems to sway a bit as I approach.

  My mother’s eyes slide to me. She looks amused.

  “What do you think you can do, either one of you, that will stop what has begun here? You will go into the human realm and try to hide from Seelie power, as so many have done, and how long has that lasted, for any of you? How well has that worked? No one can outrun a Seelie. Not forever.”