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.”
I nodded, wondering when the end would come to the indignities that illness had wrought.
“We have much more important things to do,” Quinn replied, folding his arms. He rocked his weight to and fro upon his boots. “How would you like to sleep in a real bed tonight?”
“Really?” I could hardly believe it was possible.
“Really. Your own bed, in your own room.” He moved toward me and my heart nearly stopped again as I realized he was about to pick me up and carry me, just as I had earlier wished he would.
Something in my eyes, however, or perhaps the change in Schuyler's expression, gave him pause, and he stopped before his arms closed around me. “Schuyler, if you would be so kind as to pick her up, I will carry the box.”
I was certain my face betrayed my disappointment; Schuyler's a relief so pure that if spoken, it would have been screamed.
C HAPTER 10
I FOUGHT TO HOLD MY HEAD UP as Schuyler carried me onward, up several flights of stairs.
He teetered at times and struggled to keep his balance as he navigated the turns of the spirals, climbing steps that seemed to grow steeper and narrower with every curve.
I can only describe my experience at that time as a battle, because as soon as I was disconnected from the complicated machinery in Godspeed's laboratory, my entire body withered and rebelled against my every attempt to control it. I felt weak and useless. Every part of me protested being severed from the artificial energy that had replaced natural propulsion. It was impossible for me to remember, by now, how it ever was that my heart once ticked along without notice and using no power save its own.
My body ached, my chest burned, my eyes refused to stay open. My head lolled and snapped around as I tried to keep it up.
“It's all right,” Schuyler assured me, placing a gentle kiss on the crown of it. “You don't have to fight.
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.”
I nodded, wondering when the end would come to the indignities that illness had wrought.
“We have much more important things to do,” Quinn replied, folding his arms. He rocked his weight to and fro upon his boots. “How would you like to sleep in a real bed tonight?”
“Really?” I could hardly believe it was possible.
“Really. Your own bed, in your own room.” He moved toward me and my heart nearly stopped again as I realized he was about to pick me up and carry me, just as I had earlier wished he would.
Something in my eyes, however, or perhaps the change in Schuyler's expression, gave him pause, and he stopped before his arms closed around me. “Schuyler, if you would be so kind as to pick her up, I will carry the box.”
I was certain my face betrayed my disappointment; Schuyler's a relief so pure that if spoken, it would have been screamed.
C HAPTER 10
I FOUGHT TO HOLD MY HEAD UP as Schuyler carried me onward, up several flights of stairs.
He teetered at times and struggled to keep his balance as he navigated the turns of the spirals, climbing steps that seemed to grow steeper and narrower with every curve.
I can only describe my experience at that time as a battle, because as soon as I was disconnected from the complicated machinery in Godspeed's laboratory, my entire body withered and rebelled against my every attempt to control it. I felt weak and useless. Every part of me protested being severed from the artificial energy that had replaced natural propulsion. It was impossible for me to remember, by now, how it ever was that my heart once ticked along without notice and using no power save its own.
My body ached, my chest burned, my eyes refused to stay open. My head lolled and snapped around as I tried to keep it up.
“It's all right,” Schuyler assured me, placing a gentle kiss on the crown of it. “You don't have to fight.
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