Quite Contrary (25 page)

“The factory thinks Elizabeth’s already failed and is going to die soon. That’s what this means,” Rat added.

Oh, swell.

“I guess it worked last time. It’ll work this time. Scarecrow, go get the key for me, okay?” I asked.

Rat squeezed my ear with his little hands, and tried to sound reassuring. We were both worried about Elizabeth. “The keys control the machines. We can turn off the flow when we have it.”

“Okay!” Scarecrow chirped, strolling past me and lifting a foot to climb up onto the pipe. I expected the smoke and black charring on the sole of her foot as she stepped up.

I didn’t expect the strangled whine of pain, the bunched fists, or Scarecrow’s head twisting from side to side. Guilt punched me in the face. I’d bought it. I’d completely bought Rat’s stupid line about Scarecrow not being alive. She’d been cheerful about everything, I’d taken her for granted, and now she was in agony as the bottoms of her feet burned into charcoal.

Agony or not, she took the second step, then the third down onto the floor on the other side. Her head still jerked as she let out little whimpers, but in a few seconds, those stopped. Reaching out, she grabbed the key off the hook and announced, “That wasn’t nearly as bad as last time!”

She sounded so perky about it! “Throw the key over here. You are absolutely not doing that again for me.” Guilt continued to crawl around under my skin.

“Okay!” Scarecrow replied, tossing the key one-handed over the pipe. I caught it awkwardly in both hands, but I caught it.

“She’s not really alive, Miss Mary,” Rat whispered to me, “She can feel pain, but it doesn’t hurt her like it does a person. As soon as it’s over, it’s over.”

I tried to sound calm. “I’m going to give you a chance to make up for what you just said. Take this, and turn off the machine so we can cross.”

I held up the key, and I’d gotten the rat smart enough not to argue. He grabbed the key in one hand and slid down my clothes to the floor, scurrying off amidst the maze. He’d sounded haunted anyway. He wanted to believe Scarecrow was just an object, but he didn’t. I wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.

If he was really my rat, the rat I’d deserved, he was going to do some mean, nasty, stupid things occasionally. I would have to forgive him, and he’d have to forgive me.

Thinking that through and getting a handle on my anger gave Rat time to find the controls. Machinery clicked, some of the humming and rumbling stopped. A loud crack echoed underneath me, and I thrust out my arms and fought for balance as the platform wobbled, accompanied by the squeal of abused metal. At about the time the shaking stilled, blazing goo stopped pouring out of the end of the pipe. It cooled fast. By the time Rat dragged the key back, the pipe had stopped glowing and the heat it gave off was merely noticeable.

Bending down, I picked up the key in one hand, and scooped up Rat in the other. Depositing him in the hanging hood of my costume, I said, “Alright. I have really, really tough shoes, and I’m going to make this quick.”

I could hardly hear the sizzling noise as I hoisted myself up onto the pipe, took the second step, and jumped down again. Lifting up my shoes, I saw a black stripe on the bottom of each one, but they didn’t seem damaged. Scarecrow’s feet were in worse shape, but she could still walk and I couldn’t fix her. I jammed the key into the stairwell’s lock, gave it an irritable twist, and jerked the door open. Just to make me feel better, I stomped hard on each step all the way up to the fourth floor.

It didn’t make me feel better. It was way too easy to imagine Scarecrow sticking her arm into a grinder and screaming as the spikes chewed it off. And then, that hairy little blob ordered her to do it again. After all, she didn’t seem bothered afterward, so why should he care about her feelings?

And I’d done it myself. If Rat acted shamefully, so had I. All I’d thought about was what I’d wanted, and Scarecrow had just been a tool to that end.
Are you that kind of person already, Mary?

I was already up the stairs and halfway to the temple. What the hell? Something was wrong with this place. No, something was wrong with me. No, something was wrong with me because of this place. I shook my head, hard. You deal with anger by not being angry, by being something else. I’d had to learn that the hard way.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rat relax. I guess my expression changed. “This is the last test. Except it’s not. That’s the last test, and it’s much worse.”

His tiny hand pointed over my shoulder at the temple. What else could I call it? The pipes that descended from the roof splayed out to form a circle of columns, a big open room in the middle of an otherwise blank platform. It looked like a page from a history textbook about ancient Greece. In the very center stood a throne made out of bits of machinery, and in front of the throne stood a waist high pedestal, and on that pedestal sat the crown.

There was no mistaking it. It was the only thing that wasn’t the gray of dull iron. It sparkled white and pretty on the dull gray pedestal in front of the dull gray chair in a dull gray room surrounded by dull gray columns. Which meant that dull gray lump on the floor was Elizabeth.

Oh, hell, what had happened to her? She lay on the floor less than halfway to the pedestal, curled up into a tight little gray ball and bound tightly in chains to keep her that way. No, wait. There were no chains. If I turned my head, they were just shadows, an illusion. Symbolism, a story, magic, whatever. They might as well be real. Her pretty, red hair had turned as gray as everything else. I cautiously held up one of my hands. It wasn’t gray yet, but it looked dull.

I was swearing again, too. I had to stop that. I had better self-control than that.

“What’s going on?” I asked Rat as I rubbed my forehead with the heel of my palm. The pressure, the feel of my skin, helped a lot. This had just snuck up on me.

“It’s the center. Everything pure, good, and happy in the city is sucked into that crown. That will keep happening until a girl pure in heart puts it on and goodness can flow out again. In that room there’s nothing good left, and the shadows of your heart eat you alive.” He squirmed, his fuzzy body brushing across my bare shoulder as he wrestled with himself. “That was why we needed Scarecrow. We have to have her, Miss Mary. We have to. I know Elizabeth’s pure enough to wear the crown, but no one alive can be innocent enough to reach the crown and bring it back. A test like this is impossible, and you have to trick it.”

I didn’t really want to get closer, but I walked up to the edge of the temple anyway, staring through the columns at Elizabeth’s body. Was she breathing? I bet if she’d died she wouldn’t still be chained up.

“Then, why is she in there?” I asked.

“She wouldn’t send me,” Scarecrow answered as she stepped up beside me. Did she sound less enthusiastic than usual? I couldn’t tell for sure. “She got pretty upset about the way the other tests hurt me. She said she had to do this herself.”

I nodded.

“She’s a very good person, Miss Mary. I hope you’ll get to meet her properly,” Rat said.

“We’ll figure out how to save her.” I rubbed my thumb over the top of Rat’s head again. Touching him was a good way to not feel gray in this place. I had exactly one idea, and I wasn’t sending Scarecrow in there. Neither, I noticed, was Rat.

This was a factory. There had to be rope in here somewhere. There were certainly chains. I had no idea how to make a lasso, or anything that would drag Elizabeth back without killing her. The machinery downstairs could bring this whole place crashing down. I’d seen that. We could pick her out of the wreckage, but in what condition?

Rat echoed my thoughts much too closely. “I couldn’t figure it out alone, and I couldn’t send Scarecrow in there. You were right, and so was Elizabeth. Even if she’s not truly alive, there’s rust on everything in this city, even her heart. If I sent her in there, she’d be truly dead.”

I bunched up my fists. I could see Elizabeth curled up into a tight little ball. She’d been there, what? Two days?

No. No, no, no. I wasn’t having it. I gritted my teeth, then tried to relax them so I could talk. “I’m sorry, Rat, but the hell with this. The hell with not having any clever ideas. Scarecrow, go get her.” I tensed up again, and added, “That’s not an order. I’m asking. Please. It’s going to hurt a lot, but I’m still asking. Please.” My shoulders squirmed like Rat’s had. I hated sending someone else to suffer for me.

Predictably, Scarecrow replied, “Okay!” and skipped into the temple. She skipped all of two steps before she started walking instead. Her head slouched forward before she reached Elizabeth. When she did, Scarecrow grabbed the curled up body in both hands and said, “Let’s get out of here. This is not a very nice place.”

Scarecrow trudged backwards, pulling Elizabeth step after dragging step. It was miserable, but it was working. They’d almost reached the columns. Ten feet? Fifteen?

It stopped working. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just a puppet after all,” Scarecrow mumbled. Then she collapsed on top of Elizabeth.

I couldn’t do this. If the shadows on Scarecrow’s heart were too much for her, I didn’t dare walk past those columns. Reaching over my shoulder, I pulled Rat off my dress. He dug in his claws, but I pried him off and put him on the ground.

“You can’t, Miss Mary,” he squeaked.

I ignored him and aimed myself at Elizabeth and Scarecrow and stepped into the temple. I was not going to let this stop me.

I wasn’t going to let the little brat’s whining get to me either, but I needed a drink. Her voice was so shrill, so obnoxious. How was I supposed to deal with this first thing after I got up? All she ever did was whine. I wanted to smack her, but then she’d start crying on top of everything else. Instead, I pushed the empty bottles aside. We still had some gin. It tasted like nail polish, but it would take the edge off. The brat’s voice spiked, and I badly needed to take the edge off.

Forget finding a glass. I took a swallow out of the bottle, and then a second, and then a third. Whatever it tasted like, the heat of it relaxed me. I could at least look at the little bitch I’d been saddled with. All she ever did was complain. What the hell was the slut doing standing around in her underwear, anyway? Whine, whine, whine. Snot was actually running from her nose. Whatever. Just because she was never happy didn’t mean I had to let her ruin my evening.

God fucking damn, could the little bitch whine. While I drank down the last of the gin to try and shut her out, I walked over to Elizabeth and Scarecrow, grabbed their wrists, and dragged them backwards out of the temple. Then, I sat down on the floor and buried my face in my knees and put my arms over my head and tried to stop crying.

Scarecrow sat up and groaned, “I don’t think I want to do that again.” It was the first thing she’d said that wasn’t cheerful.

Rat crouched on Elizabeth’s shoulder. He pushed on it a couple of times, then bent down to take her face in his hands. He couldn’t move her, but he begged, “Elizabeth? Please, Mistress, please wake up.”

She needed him more than I did. I just had to sit here for a minute and not be that person. I’d be okay. Elizabeth who gave a jerk and asked, “Am I awake? Not again. I can’t do this again.” She shoved Rat off her, then cupped her hands over her eyes and curled up again, whimpering, “I can’t take it. Please let me wake up for real.”

“You are awake for real. You are,” Rat promised as he climbed back up onto her shoulder. Could rats cry? His eyes looked wet, and his squeaky voice sounded rough with pain. He couldn’t stand seeing her like this. Oh, well. He was never mine to lose. Why regret what could not be?

I hated being Eponine so bad. It came with responsibilities. I didn’t quite trust my legs, so I crawled forward and said in the clearest voice I could manage, “You’re awake. That’s really Rat-In-Boots. You can feel him, can’t you? You don’t have to fight. You’re already awake. It’s over.”

She unclenched and took a deep, slow breath, then another. Her eyes peeked open, and she pushed herself up on one wobbly arm. Rat climbed her sleeve, and when he reached her shoulder, she took him in both hands and squeezed him to her chest. Shaking, she closed her eyes and bowed her head over him. “I cannot believe it’s over. I was alone, but you came back for me.” Looking up at me, she added, “And you, too. Whatever your name is, Elizabeth Madrigal owes you her life.” Her accent hadn’t gotten any thinner, or less beautiful.

“Mary Stuart. We’ve met, but I’m not surprised you don’t remember.”

She blinked, staring at me. “Mary? You’re real? I confess, Fairyland is all a fog, but I remember snippets. You gave me Rat-In-Boots, and he helped me escape and hide from the fairies and he was going to make me a princess, and—” She choked off, curling up and squeezing Rat against her again as she finished, “I am so sorry. I can’t do it. I’m not strong enough to be a princess, dear Rat. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not going back in there,” I said, pushing myself to my feet. I’d be okay. As I did, I felt a key in one fist. Where had I picked it up? It had been hanging on a hook on one of the columns? I couldn’t remember, because the naked little—