“Jump rope. Did you stand on the playground jumping over a piece of moving rope and chanting? Cinderella dressed in yellow, Miss Suzy’s steamboat?”
“Of course.”
“Blind Michael is a child’s terror. When you’re hunting bogeymen, you look for the nets you need in the stories you’ve almost forgotten.” Her eyes flashed white. “Look where the roses grow. You need to take a walk to my brother’s lands. Do you remember the way?”
“I never knew it!”
“Of course you did. You’ve just forgotten. How many miles to Babylon?”
“What?”
The Luidaeg sighed. “You’re not listening. How many miles to Babylon?”
The phrase was familiar. I paused, searching for the answer in the half-forgotten memories of the childhood I’d long since left behind, and ventured, “Threescore miles and ten?”
She nodded. “Good. Do you know how to get back again?”
“You can get there and back by a candle’s light.” I could remember holding hands with Stacy while we jumped and Julie and Kerry turned the rope, certain we’d be young and laughing and friends forever.
“Even better. Are your feet nimble and light? For your sake, they’d better be.” She opened the refrigerator, removing a brown glass bottle capped with a piece of plastic wrap and a rubber band. “But there are ways to fake that sort of thing. Here.” She held the bottle out to me.
I looked at it dubiously. I could hear the stuff inside it fizzing. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Did someone hit you with the stupid stick this morning? You’re supposed to drink it.”
“Do I have another option?”
“Do you want to come back alive?”
I sighed, reaching for the bottle. “Right.” The plastic wrap disintegrated where I touched it. “How much do I need to—”
“The whole thing.”
There was no point in arguing. I lifted the bottle, swallowing its contents as fast as I could. It was like drinking mud mixed with battery acid and bile. Gagging, I wrapped my arms around my waist and doubled over. Spike jumped off the counter and bristled at the Luidaeg, howling, but I was too busy trying to make the world stop spinning to care. I didn’t want to throw up on the Luidaeg’s floor. There was no telling what she’d do with it.
“If you throw up,” she said, sharply, “you will drink it again.”
The reasons not to be sick got better and better. Still gagging, I forced myself to straighten. The Luidaeg nodded, apparently satisfied. Spike kept howling, thorny tail lashing.
“You and me both,” I mumbled. My throat felt charred, but the pain in my hand was gone. I glanced down. The wound on my palm was closing. Somehow, that just seemed like the natural progression of events.
“Now,” said the Luidaeg. “Come here.”
One day I’m going to learn not to listen when she says that.
I stepped forward. She reached out, grabbing my chin and forcing my head up until our eyes met. Her pupils and irises dwindled, filling her eyes from top to bottom with white. I froze, unable to move or look away. She’s older than I am, much, much older, and catching me doesn’t even challenge her.
She smiled again. The expression wasn’t getting any nicer—practice doesn’t always make perfect. “How many miles to Babylon?”
I swallowed. “Threescore miles and ten.” The air felt thick and cold. I was losing myself in the white of her eyes, and I didn’t know whether I’d ever be found.
“Can you get there by candlelight?” She forced the candle into my hand. I clutched it, feeling the blood it was made from singing to me, even though I was barely feeling my own skin. This wasn’t good at all, but the further I fell, the less I cared. “Can you, October Daye, daughter of Amandine?”
“Yes, and back again.”
“If your feet are nimble and light, you’ll get there and back by the candle’s light.” She leaned down, placing a kiss on each of my cheeks. I blinked at her, puzzled. She was too tall or maybe I was too small, and the world was falling away. “You have a day. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I said. My voice sounded thin and far away, and a pale mist was blurring my vision, leaving only the whiteness of the Luidaeg’s eyes. I could still hear Spike howling, but I couldn’t see it.
“I hope you do.” She tapped the wick with one finger, and it burst into dark blue flame. The light pulled the color out