Heartsick

by Dia Reeves

  A sharp scream caught her attention and she turned just in time to see Frida fall from nothing and hit the floor, rattling the candelabra on a nearby table.

  After a few breathless seconds, Frida sat up, groaning, glasses askew. “Hello, sir.”

  “That’s why Nettle doesn’t want to come here. Doors all over the place, just like they said. I’m slipping into one right now and it’s raining. Can you tell? It’s burning my eyes.”

  Westwood and Frida looked at each other. “Frida, tell Stanton I need him in the lab. And then take it easy for the rest of the day.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  He scooped Rue into his arms and didn’t complain when she wiped her burning eyes against his shoulder. Moments later, Westwood set Rue on her bed.

  “I just got out of this thing. I’m not sleepy. The rain will drown me if I sleep.”

  “It’s not raining, you idiot. You’re just crying.”

  “Crying is what humans do. I’m…nothing? They disowned me, my whole family. What am I now?”

  “Traumatized and no good to anyone. Lie there and get well. Quickly.”

  When Westwood left, Rue was glad she’d been made to lie down. Everything kept going black and slipping away. Karissa had come to her room at one point and patted Rue’s head and fed her ice cream. Rue could taste it still, the ice and lemon mingling on her tongue. Could see the damp spot on the carpet where she’d spat it out, but Karissa was long gone. The day was gone. Time was gone.

  She was on the phone with Nettle, but couldn’t remember how long they’d been talking. Or why she’d answered.

  Nettle was talking and talking. “You tell Heath to tell everyone you will go home and make a scene like you always do. And the people have enough of you and your drama. They vote, and then they go to the Mortmaine. Now you see why I want you to stay away?”

  Rue went to the window and opened the drapes, and though the stars shone bright and blue and pretty, it remained dark.

  “Even so I try to fix your disaster. I go to Nightshade. I find initiates. But they are worse than full Mortmaine! They stick a sticky paper on me that make me tell where you are. I think to myself they will lock me in a cage and take my spleen. Something horrible. They say to me these horrible things.”

  “Was it the boy with the axes?” Rue asked, marveling at the wan quality of her own voice. Like her real voice had died and only its ghost remained. “Was he mean to you? Because I cut off his hand. I could find him and cut off something else. Off him and his friends. You could come with me. It could be an adventure.”

  “You’re stupid. Why you always want to do stupid things?”

  “I have too much time on my hands. Not like you. You’re too busy saving the day and making babies—”

  “Not yet.”

  “—and being the good daughter. So you do that. You be the good one, and I’ll be the happy one.”

  “You and happy have never even seen each other. Don't say to me you are happy.”

  “Well I am. I will be.”

  “Just apologize and come home.”

  “What home? They tried to kill me!”

  “Not kill. Only try to…give you away.”

  “To people who want to kill me. Oh I’m sorry, ‘study’ me.”

  “Like Westwood? He want to study you. Him and his twins. This is the type of people you like, no?”

  Rue stared at the phone, its toxic blue glow.

  “The family, the people, all of us want you to act normal. Like heartless, not human.”

  “And join with some non-entity like Dodder? Like you did?”

  “Dodder’s nice.”

  “Nice isn’t good enough. I want to travel and go to college and—”

  “And learn about everything in the whole world except what matters.”

  “Enlighten me, Nettle.”

  “Family!”

  Rue laughed. When she stopped, the stars were gone. She’d laughed them right out of the sky.

  Chapter 10

  Rue found herself standing in the kitchen at the sink spitting out an unpleasant mix of bile and char and…what the hell?

  “Not popcorn, either,” Karissa said, and made a note on a piece of paper. “We’re running out of stuff to try.”

  “Why do you keep feeding me these things?” Rue said. “Ice cream and popcorn.” She turned on the tap to wash the half-eaten remains down the drain and then rinse out her mouth, clean out the foulness Karissa had shoved into it.

  “I told you that I can’t eat human food.”

  Karissa looked hurt. “It was your idea. You said if you could find a human food to eat, you’d never have to go to the dark park again. You said to make a list.”

  Rue glanced at Karissa’s extremely lengthy list of foods, all of them scratched through.

  “If I said that, I really am stupid.”

  Like Nettle said.

  “Not stupid. Depressed. Because you were crying all the time.”

  “I was?”

  Karissa regarded her, wide-eyed. “Crying and being weird. You went outside and skinned a wild hog and tried to turn the skin into a coat because you said you didn’t have family to keep you warm anymore.”

  The last thing Rue remembered was talking to Nettle on the phone and being told that the family who had tried to kill her were more important than Rue’s hopes and dreams. Her soul must have taken over. Rue wished she would take over again, not ready to be in the world, to hear how weak everyone must think she was.

  “And at dinner last night you poked a fork in the back of your hand and waited for it to heal and then poked it again and again and—”

  “I don’t want to hear about stuff that happened while I wasn’t me. What I want is for you to stop feeding me shit!”

  Karissa vanished, like smoke in a storm.

  Rue crouched near the sink, focused on settling her turbulent breathing. She’d nearly succeeded when Frida entered the kitchen.

  “Uh-oh.” Frida hurried closer. “Are you okay?”

  “My stomach’s upset. It’ll get better. I just have to wait.”

  Frida gathered her Tupperware and organ meat. Stole glances at Rue.

  “You seem…lucid.”

  Rue hesitated, not wanting to yell anymore, but unsure that would stop her. “How long have I been non-lucid?”

  “A week. It’s Saturday.”

  “Only a week?” Rue said, relieved.

  “Only? Does this sort of thing happen to you a lot?”

  “No, but it happens. When my mother’s father’s first mate died, his soul isolated the emotional pain and hid it away so that he could move on with his life. And he did. He joined a second time and had babies and when the hurt was diminished enough not to ruin his life, his soul let him have his mind back.”

  “How long did that take?”

  “Twenty years. What's one week compared to that? Mother’s father didn’t remember anything, didn’t recognize his new family, wanted nothing to do with them, with any of us.”

  Frida left the organ meat on the counter and crouched next to Rue. “His soul.” Tasting the words. “Like it’s a thing inside that controls what you do. A little command center with switches and directives and a self-destruct button.”

  Rue smiled wanly at Frida, then poked her in a few places, curious. “Are you okay? You didn’t come back…strange or anything?”

  “I got shoved someplace dark where I was hanging upside-down for a while, but I’m not any more strange than usual.”

  “Karissa said I was crying all week. Did you see me cry?”

  Frida nodded.

  “Did…other people?”

  “Sure. The twins. The mister. A postal worker.”

  Rue looked at the floor, face burning.

  “Nettle. But she didn’t see you, obviously.”

  “What?”

  “She’s called a few times, but whenever the twins tried to give you the phone, you’d just stick whatever was nearby into your ears.�
� She tugged Rue’s earlobe. “I’m still not sure they got all the raisins out.”

  “Why would Nettle call me? She disowned me. Everyone did.”

  “After the mister ran off those horrible initiates, the very next day, the Mortmaine called to apologize. The initiates were supposed to bring you in, but only if you were in a rabid-dog sorta condition. Not, you know, a functioning, rational individual.”

  “They were supposed to bring me in because my family disowned me. My own sister disowned me. Did Westwood tell everyone that part?”

  “Nettle was the one who warned you about the initiates. Remember? If she didn’t care, she wouldn’t have bothered. To me, it sounds like she wants you to back off and let her make her own choices.”

  “Is that what it sounds like to you?” Yelling again. “Don’t talk about situations you know nothing about.”

  “I don’t claim to know every little detail, but maybe go talk to your sister.”

  “I’m never talking to her again! I’m never talking to anybody again.”

  Rue scrambled to her feet and slammed out of the kitchen. The sun startled her. She hadn’t seen it in so long, it didn’t seem to belong in the sky. But even as she watched, a thick swarm of clouds swallowed the hurtful light. Her ill-temper, her ill-wishes, altering the universe. For the worse.

  It was the heart. That was the reason she felt so out of sorts. She needed to fill it. Or get a fresh one. Rue didn’t like to kill people, liked that her soul had developed a new method of getting Rue the energy she needed, even if every other Heartless she knew thought it bizarre. Even gross.

  Maybe Rue should have stayed locked away from her mind, like her mother’s father had. She didn’t know why her soul thought kicking her out into the cold like this was acceptable, but what could she do? Rue’s soul was the boss.

  She decided to make her way to El Camino Real—roads always drew humans like flies to picnics—but as she descended the hill and entered the pines, Rue remembered her insect charges.

  “Shit!”

  A whole week without her, without milk or stories or companionship. Cindy and Mindy must think she’d abandoned them.

  If they were still alive.

  Rue checked the mesquite, once and then twice more, but the pupae were gone.

  She turned to the roses, sprawled just off the animal trail, tightly knotted around an unidentifiable lump. “What happened to Cindy and Mindy?”

  Several canes pointed skyward where a pair of dragonfly-green wasps hovered over the treetops.

  “Cindy! Mindy! Hi!”

  The wasps spiraled down and settled into Rue’s familiar embrace.

  “Sorry I was gone so long. It wasn’t on purpose, I swear. Just look at you two! Y’all are so grownup now.”

  The wasps preened and buzzed contentedly in her arms. Until a wave of dizziness made her swoon against the mesquite. She released the wasps, had nearly crushed the poor things as she’d collided with the tree.

  Cindy flew up into the pines and returned, four of her legs clutching a dead bluebird, which she dropped at Rue’s feet.

  “Oh, that’s sweet.” Rue tried petting Cindy’s head, but both wasps had unpleasant stinging hairs. “But hunger isn’t the problem. My heart is empty.”

  “Stomach.” The word buzzed slowly from Cindy’s throat and, by the time it hit the air, was barely recognizable. And yet…

  “You can talk! How?”

  “You. Stories.” Cindy and Mindy took turns with each word, drifting in slow circles around each other. “You. Teach.”

  “I knew you’d be smart. I knew it!” Rue’s leap for joy ended with her on her knees, shaking.

  “Eat,” Cindy and Mindy insisted.

  “I’m not hungry. It’s just…my heart needs to be replaced.”

  “Stomach.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “YESSSS. YESSSSS. YESSSSSSS.”

  Rue was silent a long while. So long, that Cindy and Mindy landed on either side of her, leaned into her, as if they were cold.

  “I. I would have to go home to eat. How could I risk seeing my family after they tried to—”

  “Kill. You.”

  Rue hung her head, ashamed.

  “Nettle.”

  “Why is everyone obsessed with Nettle?”

  “Sister. Is. Important.” The wasps leaned over Rue’s lap and nuzzled each other affectionately. Rue envied them.

  “Even Frida said I should call her. Should I?”

  “NETTLE. NETTLE. NETTLE.”

  “All right! All right. Shh!” Rue said, dialing the number. “Or I won’t be able to hear her.”

  She settled back against the mesquite and as soon as she heard her sister’s voice:

  “Please don’t join. Just don’t do it. Please?”

  “They are counting on me.” Rue hated hearing the tears in her sister’s voice, the hopelessness. “I am what is left.”

  “Our brothers are there. Why is it your burden?”

  “I do not like unhappiness. Mine or other peoples. You only care about your own unhappiness.”

  “Why is it selfish to live a little? Dodder’s not going anywhere; what’s the hurry? What’s so wrong about waiting a year? You could do so much in a year.”

  “Like go to a ball?” Nettle blew her nose. “That ball does sound fun. And Europe. And living away from home. It sound like scary fun. Something for you to do, my brave sister, not me. I am sorry for what happen to you.”

  “I know. Of course I know that.” Rue didn’t mean to start crying, especially not in front of Cindy and Mindy, so she hid her face against her knees.

  “Food.” Cindy and Mindy nudged her. “Food.”

  “What is that noise? Bees?” Nettle asked.

  “Wasps. I need to eat soon. I guess. Maybe we could meet in the dark park and—”

  “No! Rue, no. You cannot be here. If the people see, if the family see you? I don’t want to think what they do to you.”

  “I have to eat,” said Rue, the words muffled against her knees.

  “Not me. Not yet. You use too much energy. You burn it up.”

  “Food would be a lot more helpful than a lecture right now.”

  “Sorry. I will go with the family for food next week. When we go, I can text where we are, so you can go the other way. Far the other way. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Nettle said, after a while, “I want to make you and the family happy. You want to do as you please. Maybe there is a way to both have what we want?”

  “You can’t make the family happy unless it’s at the expense of your own happiness. If you want to be happy, become me.” Rue laughed, weakly. “Then we’ll both be happy.”

  “Still thinking I want to be you?” The tears had gone from Nettle’s voice. “Do your weird trick and sip someone’s heart; that will help a little until we hunt. But stay away until I text, or it is you they will hunt.”

  Chapter 11

  The next day, Rue wandered across the cold grounds of the du Haven plantation. The clouds bloated with unspent rain had left the late morning sky so dark, it could have passed for evening.

  “Let’s cut through the garden,” she said as the bells of Evangeline Church called the Catholics to prayer. “It’s so pretty there, even in winter. I can’t wait to see what it’s like in the spring. When will you begin to bloom? Spring or summer? Both! I’m so jealous; you’re going to be so beautiful. More beautiful. But I have to say, you’d be most beautiful if you stopped biting yourself. You can’t get rid of fleas by gnawing your flesh to shreds. As soon as I get you settled, I’ll go to the house and get you some flea powder or a flea collar from the—”

  In the center of the garden, a metal table had been draped with a white tablecloth and set for tea with pink china. Circular sandwiches on tiny saucers, and even tinier cups filled with dark tea. A large plate with a glass dome held a small cake covered with pink frosting and strawberry slices.

  Sterling sat at the table, d
ressed in a funny, old-fashioned hat and waistcoat. Karissa, across from him, wore a white velvet dress trimmed with lace, a bow perched fetchingly in her curly hair. Very cute.

  And then she vanished.

  “What are you doing?” Sterling asked, unperturbed.

  “How does she do that? Can y’all do that?”

  “No.” Sterling looked, not at Rue, but at her new friend. “What. Are. You. Doing?”

  “…taking a walk.”

  “With a blue sloth?” Sterling poured milk into Karissa’s cup, considerably lightening the dark tea. “You’re not supposed to befriend beasts.”

  “We’re not friends?”

  “Then why are you holding hands?”

  Rue looked at the blue sloth, who didn’t seem interested in fielding questions. “I’m guiding it. To its…bloody fate.”

  “Why do you have to guide it anywhere? Just rip the thing apart. Did you break a claw?”

  Heartless claws were the toughest substance she’d ever heard of. Tougher than diamonds. “Maybe?” said Rue.

  “Do you need a knife?”

  “Ah. No? I’m…taking her to the root cellar first. So that…I don’t have to drag dead weight behind me.”

  “But the root cellar is that way.”

  “Look here, pay attention to your own business! Lots of interesting things are happening right in front of you so why pay attention to me? Maybe then you’ll notice things like your sister’s ability to vanish and the charm of hummingbirds swarming the table and eating your food.”

  Sterling’s smug expression was replaced by real concern. “Hummingbirds?”

  The charm arose from the ruins of the pink cake, jewel-toned feathers smeared with frosting. Beaks glinting as though reinforced with metal. Beaks aimed at Rue’s face. They darted at her.

  And Rue awakened on the ground, her head in the blue sloth’s lap. Sterling knelt nearby, scribbling into a notepad as the sloth stroked her hair. Something chirped above, and Rue screamed.

  “The birds!”

  “Stop yelling,” Sterling said. “You’re fine. Just having a flashback, a side effect of the experiment. I thought I debugged this particular effect but…guess I should have let Stanton check the math.”

  “It wasn’t real?” As the sloth helped her stand, Rue spied Karissa peeping beneath the table and the pink cake intact atop the table beneath the glass dome. She held her head.