Godspeed (7 page)

I caught sight once more of the topmost arc of the wires threaded in and out of my chest. Then I glimpsed the incisions still healing around them and felt as if I might be sick.

“Don't look.” Schuyler shook his head fiercely and caressed my face with a gentle stroke of his hand. “Not yet. It's too soon.” He looked at me with a concern that I did not feel due, and I wondered again why it was he had such a soft spot for me, a veritable stranger. I imagined the only explanation could be that his heart was so big, so warm and caring, that he would have room in it for the whole of the world, should he decide that they, too, were worth saving.

“I have something much nicer for you to look at.” He smiled broadly and pulled an item out of his bag. “What do you think?”

He was holding a garment, a beautiful, elegant blouse in the clearest shade of blue I had ever seen. It had buttons down the front and the collar was not so high as to be uncomfortable given my state, yet just enough to hide, it appeared, almost all of the external evidence of the wires.

“It's the exact shade of your eyes,” he continued, obviously pleased by my expression as he displayed the gift. “I may not be able to do what Quinn does, but I am a wonder when it comes to color.”

I thought of the scarlet room and nodded. “It is… really for me?”

“Well it doesn't fit me. I
know
, I've already
tried.
” He winked at me, and I almost, but not quite, laughed at the thought. “There's more. Black skirt with lace petticoats, a vest that I will tailor to fit as soon as you can stand…”

“You made these?” I marveled, forgetting myself and interrupting him. I looked at him apologetically and he tilted his head to show he forgave my youthful enthusiasm.

“Well, you don't think I can just go out and buy a jacket like this, do you?” He held up the tails of the magnificent, sapphire blue velvet waistcoat he wore. He pivoted around and back again to show off the movement of the piece. “No one makes clothing like this, not even in Fairever. So I had to learn to make it myself. After all, we don't all want to wear black straight from the shop window like…”

“Like I do.”

Our heads snapped up, turning in unison toward the man now speaking, and I could have sworn that Schuyler's reaction was every bit the same as mine as Quinn appeared in the doorway.

“Just so, sir,” Schuyler agreed, his manner becoming even more jovial. “Like you do. You really should wear more color, Quinn. Especially blue.” Schuyler held up the blouse and glanced back and forth between Quinn's face and the fabric. “Definitely blue.”

Quinn scoffed and stepped forward, moving swiftly past Schuyler with a disregard that instantly stole the light from Schuyler's expression. “Yes, and the world would come to an end if our trousers weren't precisely cuffed,” Quinn muttered. “Clothing serves modesty, Schuyler. Fashion is but vain.”

I winced seeing the pain in Schuyler's eyes, though more so at the fact that he turned quickly away so as to hide that hurt from Quinn.

It was not as though Quinn would have taken note of it anyway, his full attention was fixed upon me. “You're sitting up. That is good to see.”

I became even more acutely aware now of what I was not wearing. My arms shifted up and over my body, ridiculous though it was given that he'd obviously seen much more in caring for me than I wanted to entertain.

“Before I let you dress her up like the porcelain doll you aim to make her, Schuyler, I must look her over and check her progress. I must also explain…” Quinn's voice turned much more burdened, along with his thoughts, and he paused.

“Explain?” I asked.

“What this is,” he whispered, waving vaguely toward the table behind him and the items upon it, in a way that prevented me from determining which ‘this’ he meant. “And exactly what it is that I've done to you.”

Schuyler blanched. He shifted his weight from side to side with obvious discomfort. Quinn jerked his head in the direction of the door, wordlessly commanding his friend to depart through it.

Schuyler folded the blouse with gentle, loving hands and restored it to its place in his bag. “I'll… go and press this for you. Then it'll be all ready as soon as you are.”

I spoke grateful words in parting. “Thank you, sir.”

Schuyler inclined his head to acknowledge my thanks, bowed slightly to Quinn, and then took his leave without another sound. The door closed behind him, and I sat in silence for a long moment as Quinn stared beyond me at the machinery to which I was still directly attached.

He motioned toward a square metal object that rested on the table beside me. At the sight of it my nerves became raw, my first thoughts possessed of morbid curiosity as to just what fresh Hell this latest contraption would inflict upon my body.

Before he could speak again, my heart sped up. Snatched away by fear, my breath deserted me. The room began to spin, and I slumped backward.

Bells tolled a now familiar warning as Quinn leapt toward the controls; my heart had again abandoned its proper pace. It skipped, stuttered, and seemed to charge forward and attempt to beat backward, all at once. He cursed under his breath. His eyes grew cold and his expression turned to stone once more as he reached out to grasp hold of the switch I had learned most, by now, to hate.

“I am sorry,” he said, as he had so many times before. He closed his eyes for an instant to try to conceal from me the frustration that was so clearly evident in them. Then he focused upon the panel again and with one swift motion, flipped the lever up.

The charge in the frightful machinery began to build and I could feel the energy snapping and pinging all around me. My skin seemed charged with unnatural power. Every hair stood on end.

My body jerked and after three such charges, the bells stopped. Quinn analyzed the readings, mopped at beads of sweat on his brow with the back of his hand, and sighed. I knew that meant my heart had again agreed, if only momentarily, to continue beating on.

I took note that the shocks were not quite as painful now — or perhaps, I thought, I was just growing accustomed to the agony. Even so, tears I could not prevent spilled from the corners of my eyes and I looked away, trying to hide them despite the futility of the effort.

Quinn pulled a linen handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed gently at my eyes before placing the cloth between my shaking fingers.

“I will get you past this,” he whispered. “I give you my word.”

I nodded, though even with my faith in his genius, it was becoming more and more difficult to believe.

“I was about to explain what I have done, and what it is doing to you,” he said, as he pulled a tall stool up beside the table and wearily slumped down upon it. “Are you ready to know?”

I did not know if anyone could ever be ready to receive such information, still I tried to answer as politely as I could. “Please.”

“You have been connected, as I am certain you now realize, to machinery that has been working to regulate the cadence of your heartbeat,” he began, gesturing toward the wires on my chest but not touching them. “As I suspected, the problem with your heart is electrical in nature and so when it forgets how it is meant to beat, it needs a jolt of power to remind it. These shocks have allowed me to keep you alive thus far. However…” His face went from infuriatingly unreadable to a deeply serious expression, and as his eyes pierced my own, I felt my breath stolen away for entirely different reasons than before.

He was beautiful, by God, and the thoughts which forced themselves into my consciousness when I was this near to him were new, shocking, and more than I could allow myself to imagine. I closed my eyes in the attempt to force them from my mind, but the darkness only served to intensify them. I longed for him to take me into his arms as he had when he'd carried me. I ached even more for him to leave them there — to hold me.

“We cannot continue to deliver bursts of such strong energy, or we will be doing as much harm as good. So I have crafted a device, heavy, cumbersome though it is, that will allow you at least a little movement and afford me a lot more control over the corrective charges your heart routinely requires. It is an improvement from
your current state, and will free you from all this.” He gestured with open arms to the larger machines all around us.

My hopes soared for an instant until they were once again clipped and cut; shot down to earth with definitive, sickening speed by his next statement. “It cannot last forever.”

C
HAPTER
9

“I AM TO DIE, THEN?”

He tilted his head thoughtfully and ran his hand back through his stubborn, silver hair.

“We are all to die, girl. The question remains just when.” He frowned now and sat taller in his seat. “What I meant was that your heart cannot stand, even still, the continued jolts from this improved, less violent device. You need something so small, so intricate, and yet so dependable that it can fortify the strength of your heart to beat on without assaulting it in the attempt to render aid.” He waved beyond the machines to the bookshelves lining the far wall. “I am working on that. In the meantime, I hope you will gain strength, and I will have enough time to refine the device that will truly make you as well as you can possibly be.”

He stood up and moved closer to the table. He grasped hold of his nearby listening scope and applied it to my chest. His touch, even in this simplest fashion, made every emotion within me swell like shifting seas. I tried to still myself from shaking as he listened and nodded.

“While I cannot be certain of it, because there can never be absolute certainty in something like this, I believe the time has come to try.” He roped the length of the scope around his neck and returned his eyes to mine. “Are you ready?”

“I am ready to live or die, sir, but one thing I am not ready to do is to continue to merely exist in the nothingness between. Do what you must.”

He nodded again, this time in approval. “So I shall.”

He turned away and began switching, one by one, dials and levers on the panel to their off position. The whirring hum of each mechanism slowed and was finally snuffed into silence, and in the newly quieted room I could hear the sound of his rapid breaths and knew he was, beneath his calm exterior, anxious just as I was.

Each in turn, he disconnected the leading wires on my chest from the larger machines and attached them instead to the smaller device, which was about the size of a ladies' train case but apparently much heavier, given the effort it took him to move it.

When all was done and finished, he again wiped the perspiration from his brow and focused on me intently. His eyes questioned if I was ready to see what would happen next; his head moved up and down to convey that he was.

I mirrored his motion and then closed my eyes.

“Breathe steadily,” he instructed. “I know the instinct is to hold your breath, but that will only complicate matters.”

I clasped my lower lip between my teeth for an instant, then realized I should not; if the machine should immediately fire a shock, I might impale it. I released it and inhaled as deeply as I could.

My heart had already started to slow, and I braced myself for the charge I was certain would come the moment he turned the device on.

Indeed the charge did come, but this one was, as he'd planned, much less abusive to my body as a whole.

When it was over, I reluctantly opened clenched eyelids. I blinked once, twice, three times.

I inhaled and exhaled again, and for the first time in a very long time, the act felt almost a natural thing. My eyes instantly filled with tears at the realization, and in response Quinn emphatically slammed a fist onto the top of the table beside me.

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “Yes, I knew that you would be able to…” He stopped and suddenly glared at me; leaving me bewildered, forced to wonder what could have prompted the instantaneous change in his demeanor.

“What's wrong?” I asked, truly terrified. He turned away. His hands moved with furious motions as he began to coil up strands of loose wire, efficiently taking up and securing the slack.

“I…” he began, stopping to clear his throat. “I have never seen you smile before.”

I had not realized that I had done so, and could think of nothing to say in reply.

I watched his every motion closely as he moved, tidying everything and stowing away instruments and devices that he felt, at least for now, he would not need to use on me again. With each item's disappearance, I felt a little more human than I had the moment before.

By the time he finally finished his work and turned back to me, we heard a single knock at the door. Without waiting, Schuyler came through it. His face registered his surprise as he saw I was free — at least more so than I'd been since the night I first arrived.

“Success?” he gasped, hurrying toward us.

“Success,” Quinn replied. His jaw set and his eyes took on a defiance that I had seen in him only once before, when he spoke about attempting to best Death this time.

Schuyler suddenly seized hold of Quinn by the forearms, color rushing to his face as he gave an excited, yet incredulous laugh.

“Yes?”

“Yes, Schuyler.” Quinn quickly extricated himself from Schuyler's grasp and took a step closer toward me. “I told you it would work.”

Schuyler's expression soured, but he seemed to try, at least for my sake, to recover quickly. “What wonderful news.” He patted me gently on top of my head, and as he withdrew his hand his attention was drawn to his fingertips. “Good Lord…”

I had no idea what troubled him so, until I realized that his hand had taken away a long lock of my hair as he'd pulled it back. Even as gently as he'd touched me, it was enough to snap strands that had become unnaturally brittle and cause them to fall.

“Control yourself, Schuyler.” Quinn warned, as he locked his eyes on to mine and held my gaze. “It's but a minor side effect, purely cosmetic in nature. As lucky as you are to be alive, it should be of no consequence at all.”

“You have never been a young woman, Quinn,” Schuyler rebuked him, and then took hold of my hand and squeezed it. “We'll deal with this, do not you worry your pretty head a bit about it.”