Sometimes when dysphoria reaches a certain point there’s really nothing to do but shock yourself out of it. It’s why self-harm is such a common thing with Borderlines; the intensity of physical pain wipes out everything else. But there are ways to get that kind of sensation without damaging yourself. For example, filling a big bowl of ice cubes and water and sticking your face in it for thirty seconds.
All mammals have something called a “dive reflex,” a thing that activates your parasympathetic nervous system when icy water touches the skin under your eyes. It works especially well if you’re bent over. Your heart rate slows, and the shock of it pretty much reboots your brain. It’s best used as a last resort, though, because it sucks out loud. It’s better than dysphoria, but not better than a whole lot else.
I drew back from the bowl on the kitchen island and grabbed at the towel I’d placed nearby, mopping down my face as best I could. I had exactly the wrong haircut for this little exercise; the front layers were drenched. As soon as I’d addressed the worst of the dripping, I went back out to the living room to join Caryl on the couch, the one that faced the door rather than the stairs. I wanted to keep an eye on the windows, on the off chance Alondra came slinking back.
“Better?” Caryl said.
“I’m fine,” I said, raking back my hair. Rivulets of water had run down under the collar of my T-shirt, making dark splotches on my chest.
“I’ve spoken to Tracy,” Caryl said, lifting her eyes from my shirt with obvious effort. “Alondra got to him first, but he said that she is having a dysphoric episode and was making very little sense. He and I managed to have a reasonably productive conversation, and he says that her previous reports had begun to cast us in a decent light. Well, except for you.”
“Of course.”
“I also left a message for Alvin alerting him to the presence of two spies in his ranks.”
“Did Tracy say if any of them have been feeding info to Dame Belinda?”
“He says absolutely not. Apparently he gave strict orders otherwise. He was, unfortunately, not willing to speak with me for very long. But he says his policy is hands off in the conflict right now; he is gathering information and waiting to see how it plays out.”
“And how is it going to play out now?”
“Our plan is still sound,” said Caryl, “even without Tjuan. We only need the iron-laced facade of him to make it work.”
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “It’s an unacceptable risk. Going without real Tjuan means either we abandon the exit strategy and count on everything to go like clockwork—which I am not willing to do after the mess in London—or we use a version of the exit strategy that could potentially be a massacre. If I accidentally touch a stone at the same time Ironbones Tjuan does, the White Rose comes crashing down with everyone inside it. Just . . . absolutely not.”
“Perhaps Shock could make another facade entirely.”
I paused, thought it over. “We could bring Phil in, maybe. Have him do Tjuan’s part. Do we have enough time?”
“There is no way to know how long it will take before someone in London spots the missing Vessel and begins to put things together, but Dawnrowan at least is willing to put off the meeting in light of our recent complications. I imagine Shock could put together another facade within a few days. But we cannot use Phil; he is without exaggeration the only glue holding Residence Four operations together at the moment.”
Caryl’s phone buzzed; she pulled it out of her pocket to look at it.
“Stevie’s definitely out,” I said. “Alvin might be up for it, but a facade of him would have boobs, so that’s not going to work.”
“Perhaps this is what you could use to win Alondra back,” said Caryl. She turned her phone toward me. “Tracy just sent me her location.”
“Wait. You’d trust Alondra with this?”
“Why not? She left New York because she felt strongly that Dame Belinda was in the wrong. She was clever enough to pull off a fairly complicated bit of espionage without arousing either my or Alvin’s suspicions. She is an experienced agent, and clearly wants to help.”
I raked a hand through my hair again, looked down at myself. “I can try to go talk to her, but let me at least change my shirt and dry my hair first.”
I rose and headed for the stairs, but before I could even start the ascent toward my room, I stopped in my tracks. Standing at the head of the staircase was a tall Greek beauty with eyes like clouded jade, head cocked at a bizarre angle.
I bit down on the cliché: How long have you been standing there? “Caryl,” I said. She turned, saw what I was seeing, went pale. She leaned forward against the back of the couch, clutching it with both hands as though for support.
Had Shiverlash deliberately concealed herself, or were we just that oblivious?
Caveat made herself visible, appearing on Shiverlash’s shoulder.
“The queen orders me to translate again,” Caveat said. Her voice and manner were flat; I couldn’t tell if that was her usual unwillingness to transmit emotion, or if that in and of itself indicated her feelings.
“Of course,” I said. “Your Majesty, by all means, tell us what we might do for you today.”
“Give it to me,” Shiverlash said in her cool alto voice.
“Give what to you?” I said in my most agreeable tone.
“The facade with iron bones. If you no longer need it, give it to me.”
So she’d been standing there a while, then.
Caryl and I looked at each other, and I didn’t need to do a sidhe mind-reading trick to know that she and I were seeing the same horrific image: Shiverlash commanding an Elliott-piloted Tjuan lookalike to march around Arcadia indiscriminately destroying every spell in sight.
I looked back at Queen Shiverlash.
“I . . . can’t really do that,” I said tentatively. “It’s a likeness of a real, living person who is in enough trouble as it is right now. Also, Elliott took it to Arcadia, and he hasn’t come back; he was waiting for us to call him.”
“You know the spirit’s true name, do you not? Call him now. If he can take me to this empty facade, then I will have no further need of you.”
“Please, Your Majesty,” I said. “I know you’re impatient to free the spirits, but I’m this close to getting Winterglass on my side, having the entire Unseelie Court.”
“I feel I have heard this tale before.”
“For real now!” I said. “He has made me a promise. We have a plan. And we might still need that facade for it; I don’t know. But we’re going to go to the White Rose, steal something for King Winterglass. Once he has it, he’s on our side. Once he’s on our side, Dame Belinda has to surrender. Once she surrenders, Alvin’s in charge, and we figure out the best way to free the spirits.”
Queen Shiverlash directed her facade’s gaze toward me, stared at me for a long time without speaking.
“It was a real promise,” I said. “Once I finish this, Winterglass has to be the ally of the new Arcadia Project. Even if we decide to do things he doesn’t like. He’s tied his hands.”
The siren tipped her head, considering. Then she said, “This is the third time you have delayed me. You were warned. You have three days to make good on this ‘plan’ of yours. After that, I will find the iron facade, and I will take it.” At that she strode down the hall toward the stairs to the Gate, her movements both graceful and grotesque, and decidedly inhuman.
“Three days?” said Caryl in a panic once Caveat had confirmed the queen’s exit through the Gate. “I doubt we could even get a new facade made in three days, much less bring the plan to completion.”
“We don’t have to,” I said. “All we have to do is make sure Elliott is locked down in some kind of spell before three days is up.”
“What?”
I went to sit with Caryl again, grabbed her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze. “The threat she made is empty. If she’d bothered to catch up on current events, to learn how facades and possession work, she would never have even made that threat.”
“But I understand facades and possession,” said Caryl, lacing her fingers between mine, “and I still do not follow.”
“Because you’re upset,” I said. “Stick your head in some ice cubes and think it through. She can’t just tell any old spirit to possess the facade. Shock had to set that up very carefully. Only Qualm and Elliott can even get in there. If they’re both locked down in spells, she can’t use them. Even if she uses her song to call every free spirit in both worlds to her side, the ones locked down in spells still can’t come to her.”
“A fair point,” said Caryl, brightening.
I nodded, then released her hand and stood. “Let’s get this show on the road,” I said, heading toward the stairs. “You driving?”
“I shouldn’t right now.”
I didn’t need to ask what she meant; I appreciated her self-preservation. “Then call me a cab; I’ll go get ready to play nice with Alondra.”
• • •
Alondra hadn’t gone far. Teo’s car was parked in the lot of an Indian-Mexican fusion diner just a few minutes from the Residence, and the cab let me out in front at about a half hour before noon. I paid my fare and got out, approached cautiously for fear my quarry might bolt; I didn’t want to find out if my fake legs could outrun her short ones. Through the glass of the narrow cafe’s front door I could just make out the dark tumble of her hair; she was at a table for two against the orange wall.
I pushed open the door as quietly as I could and made my way over to her, plopping myself down into the chair across from her. She was about halfway through a plate of chicken tikka tacos. My stomach rumbled.
When she saw me, her pretty face twisted. “What,” she said, “did you just search every restaurant for the fat girl, one at a time?”
“Yeah,” I said. “That makes way more sense than Tracy being worried about you and telling us where to find you.”
She looked away, folded her arms. Tacos just sitting there.
“Are you going to finish those?” I asked. “I’ve had nothing but coffee all morning.”
“Get your own,” she said, pulling the plate closer, but still not touching the food on it.
“Look,” I said. “I’m sorry about this morning. I’ve been in a constant dysphoric loop for a couple of months now. You do know what dysphoria is, right?”
“I’ve done DBT too,” she said, still not looking at me. “Three times. Tracy made me.”
“Well, so I’m seeing everything through this filter. Everything’s ominous; everything’s doom. It doesn’t help that a lot of things are doom.”
“So what’s your point?”
“My point is, it’s shitty that you were spying on us, but I don’t really think you’re trying to destroy me.”
“Wish I could say the same.”
I deserved that, and I knew it. I leaned back, combed my fingers through my hair. “Look,” I said. “Before I stole your phone, what did you think of us rebels?”
Alondra sighed. “I don’t know. Caryl without Elliott worries me. She’s like . . . half child, half demon. Alvin’s always been level-headed, though; I really like him. Had a huge crush on him when we first met, actually. So when Dame Belinda said he’d gone crazy and lied about her, I was just like . . . nope.”
“So you trust Alvin, and Alvin trusts us. He let me plan a heist, Alondra. Would he do that if I were a bad guy?”
“I don’t think you’re a bad guy,” she said with a sigh. “I really wanted to like you, honestly. Caryl made you sound so cool. She said even before you came to the Arcadia Project and started saving the world all the time, you were making movies and stuff, you were nominated for awards.”
I tried to look modest. “Just the one award.”
“Still, that’s amazing. I wanted to be friends. But I could tell you hated my guts from the first day.”
I sighed. “I’m not great at friendship,” I said. “Haven’t ever been, really. Can’t promise I ever will be. But I can try to do better at treating you like a coworker at least, all right?”
“You . . . want me to stay?” she said, her dark eyes disbelieving. “Even after . . . what I did?”
“You were trying to serve the Project in your own way,” I said. “You believe Dame Belinda needs to go, right? And where do you stand on the spirits?”
“I like Caveat,” she said. “She’s one of the few people in Residence Four who actually listens to me. So yes, I’d love to figure out a way we can work with them, instead of just using them. And . . . I want to help Tjuan get out of jail, even though he’s barely ever even spoken to me.”
“That’s just the way he is,” I said. “He’s slow to warm up. But for what it’s worth, he never lets me talk shit about you.”
Alondra started to smile, then turned it to a frown halfway through. “Wait, why were you talking shit about me?”
“Because I’m an asshole, Alondra, and because I’m jealous of you.”
“Jealous? The skinny badass is jealous of me?”
“Do you seriously want to trade bodies? Because I’d be willing to give it a whirl.”
She laughed uneasily. “So you really want me back?”
“Honestly, because we lost Tjuan, we may need you for the White Rose heist.”
Her hands flew to her chest. “Are you serious?” She looked at me like I’d just cast her in Hamilton. I decided it might not be the best idea to tell her that we’d just basically run out of people.
“You’ve shown us you can be clever, and careful,” I said. “You’ve taken risks. I think you can play the role he was going to play. We could make this work. But this means we’ll have to make a facade that looks like you, put Elliott in it. Is that going to creep you out?”
“Honestly?” she said. “Yeah! Big time! But I don’t care—do it!”
“If you’re sure,” I said.
“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” she said, fanning herself with both hands. “You will not be sorry.”
“Well, we might very well be, but it probably won’t be your fault.”
“Seriously.” She reached out, grabbed my hand. “I won’t let you down. Thank you so much.”
“Don’t thank me till it’s over,” I said, resisting the urge to pull my hand away. “Now finish your damn tacos before I do, and give me a ride home.”