The Wood Queen Read online

  Donna had heard it all before. Young alchemists were in short supply as more and more of the older generation died without passing on their genes. Not to mention the huge investment of resources that had gone into saving her life—she was under no illusions about the money and time spent on her recovery.

  Paige waited impatiently, pulling her tailored jacket more tightly around herself and tossing her shiny dark hair. “Come on. We need to get back inside.”

  Donna fixed her with a determined expression. “You’re really going to make me go through with this?”

  Genuine surprise slackened her aunt’s face. “Of course. What did you expect? That I could just wave a magic wand and make it all go away?”

  “Honestly? I was hoping that maybe you could show a little trust in me. Can’t you do that, just this once?”

  Aunt Paige’s eyes became guarded. “How can I trust you? After everything you did …” Her voice trailed off, but not before Donna heard the thread of uncertainty running through it.

  “What I did, I did to save Navin. And Maker. Why can’t you understand that?”

  “I do understand, Donna.” She took a hesitant step forward. “That’s just it. It’s not that I don’t understand; the problem is that I think you were wrong.”

  It was as if her aunt had slapped her. Shocked, Donna tried to rally herself. “How can you say that? They would have died!”

  “Then so be it. If that’s what was meant to be.”

  Donna’s whole body stiffened. “Even Maker?”

  “Even him.” There was no doubt in Aunt Paige’s voice now; her faith in the greater good—of whatever freaky higher consciousness the alchemists believed in—was absolute. And absolutely unshakable.

  Barely able to catch her breath, Donna slowly shook her head. “Then I feel sorry for you,” she whispered, feeling like she might cry.

  Before Aunt Paige could reply, the shrill tones of a ringing phone cut through the frigid air between them. At the same moment, Simon emerged and stood on the steps of the main entrance, looking like he was about to implode. Paige held up a hand to him and pulled out her cell phone.

  “Underwood.”

  Donna gritted her teeth. Her aunt was all business now, no doubt expecting a call from the Mayor’s office.

  Aunt Paige suddenly looked at her, her face drained of color. Now what?

  “I understand. Thank you.” She tucked the phone back into her pocket and took a deep breath.

  “Well?” Donna asked, feeling sick. Fear clawed at her throat and she wanted to grab her aunt’s arms and shake her. “What is it?”

  Somehow, even before Paige spoke, Donna knew exactly what she was going to say. She didn’t fully understand how she knew, but she suspected it had a lot to do with the crazy dreams that had been haunting her.

  “I’m sorry, Donna,” Paige said, all signs of anger deflated. “That was the Institute—I’m afraid it’s your mother.”

  Three

  Donna was running by the time she reached the glass doors of Ironbridge General’s privately funded Special Care Unit. Her mother had been rushed there from the Institute just this morning, as soon as her condition had turned “critical.”

  “Wait,” Aunt Paige called, struggling to keep up in her high heels. “Slow down!”

  Ignoring her, with all thoughts of the trial scattered behind her somewhere back in the parking lot, Donna scanned the waiting area and fixed her attention on a group of nurses who didn’t seem to have much to do. Everything looked calm and quiet; surely Mom couldn’t be so sick in a place as tranquil as this?

  She marched toward them, only vaguely aware of her aunt’s footsteps clattering just behind. “I need to see Rachel Underwood.”

  One of the nurses—Nurse Valderrama, according to her nametag—raised dark eyebrows. “And you would be …?”

  “I’m her daughter.” Donna tried to look composed and in control, but her heart was hammering almost painfully and she knew she must look young and scared.

  The nurses exchanged a look that she couldn’t quite interpret, but it certainly didn’t indicate anything good. Aunt Paige appeared at her side, acting all official, and showed them some identification. Things moved along more smoothly after that, especially given how the SCU came by their funds—Quentin was a significant benefactor, which granted the alchemists privileged access to the facilities. It never ceased to amaze Donna how the four Orders had fingers in so many different pies throughout the world. Wherever they operated, you could pretty much guarantee their influence was working behind the scenes in a variety of institutions.

  Within minutes they were standing at the foot of her mother’s bed. The room felt chilly, but was pleasant enough. Sort of peaceful. There were actually two beds, and an intimidating collection of hospital equipment that Donna didn’t want to examine too closely. All she cared about was seeing Mom.

  Rachel Underwood had once been a striking woman. Not traditionally beautiful in the way you might expect a model or an actress to look, but she had almost regal features: creamy skin, without a freckle in sight despite her long red hair, and unusual silver-gray eyes that had been dulled by drugs in recent years. She was thin, too, with bones sticking out in ways that made Donna wonder if they’d been feeding her properly at the Institute—the secure mental facility where Mom had spent the better part of the last ten years. Ever since that night in the Ironwood.

  The night her father had been killed by the Skriker and Donna’s hands and arms had almost been destroyed.

  She tried not to breathe the sterile air; something about it made her feel lightheaded and sick. Maybe if she took really shallow breaths, just through her mouth, she’d be okay.

  She asked, “Can she hear us?”

  Nurse Valderrama had been bustling around her mother’s still form, but glanced up with unmistakable kindness on her pretty face. Her skin was a little darker than Nav’s, Donna couldn’t help noticing, feeling a sudden pang of longing for her best friend. She wished he was standing beside her instead of her taciturn aunt.

  The nurse’s expression shifted to something more like regret. “She probably won’t hear much of anything right now. She’s heavily sedated.”

  Donna licked her lips, realizing how dry they were. “Why did you have to do that? Sedate her, I mean.”

  “Mrs. Underwood was very unwell when she was admitted.”

  “I know that,” Donna replied, unable to keep the impatience out of her voice. “But what’s wrong with her? What kind of ‘unwell’ are we talking about?”

  Aunt Paige shifted slightly behind her. “The staff are very busy, dear. You’ve seen your mother now—let’s leave them to do their jobs.”

  Turning on her, Donna released some of the fear and frustration she’d been holding on to. “But nobody’s told us anything!”

  “Donna—” There was no mistaking the warning in Aunt Paige’s voice.

  Not that she cared about that. “So Mom collapsed, but not a single person can tell me anything else?”

  Nurse Valderrama smoothed her uniform with slender brown fingers. “The doctor will be along soon.” She made as though to leave the room.

  Donna moved to block the doorway. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Aunt Paige rested a hand on her shoulder. “Donna! What on earth’s gotten into you?”

  “Into me?” She almost laughed in her aunt’s face. “Why even bring me here if you’re not going to tell me what happened? So, Mom ‘collapsed’ and that’s it? That’s all I get?”

  The nurse pursed her lips and eyed the door nervously. For a moment it looked as though she might be weighing something up as she glanced between the two visitors, but then she squared her shoulders and faced Donna. “Your mother has been experiencing seizures that the doctors haven’t been able to figure out the cause of yet. We’re keeping her sedated for her own safety.”

  Aunt Paige let out a sigh of exasperation. “And the safety of everyone else, apparently. She’s been quite vi
olent.”

  “Oh my God!” Donna turned on her aunt with fury. “You knew! You knew why they brought her in and you didn’t tell me.”

  There was no missing the scowl that Paige threw in Nurse Valderrama’s direction, but she quickly focused her attention back on her niece. “Well, of course I knew. I also knew how upset you’d be, and there was no point in telling you anything when we don’t yet know the cause.”

  Trying to get her temper back under control, Donna tuned out her aunt’s excuses and appealed to the nurse. “Can you tell me anything else, please? What kind of seizures? Do you mean like an epileptic fit?”

  “We should really wait for Doctor—”

  But Donna didn’t find out the doctor’s name, because her mother chose that moment to sit up in bed. It was as though something had violently propelled her into a sitting position, like a rubber band snapping, the movement was so sudden and shocking. She opened her eyes and stared directly at Paige, her expression filled with something like terror and pain all mixed together. “You!”

  Then Rachel threw back her head and screamed.

  The room was suddenly full of other people. At least it seemed that way to Donna; too many people, so many that she couldn’t fight her way through them. Nausea made her stomach churn, but she tried to reach the bed—if she could just help them hold Mom down, maybe it would all be okay. The way Rachel was thrashing and screaming, it almost seemed impossible that even the two orderlies and the second nurse who’d arrived could keep her mother from hurting herself.

  Straps came out, as though conjured from nowhere, and they began securing the patient to the bed. A syringe that the taller of the two orderlies had brandished was kicked out of his hand by a flailing leg.

  Aunt Paige was speaking in Donna’s ear, urgently, almost desperately. “We need to leave them to do their work. Donna, can you hear me?” She had Donna’s upper arm in a tight grip but one look from her niece was all it took to make her let go.

  A small Indian woman ran through the door, her white coat flapping around her legs. She spared the spectators—Aunt Paige and Donna—a glance. “What are these civilians doing here? Nurse Valderrama, get them outside where they belong; I don’t care who they are!”

  Translation: I don’t care if they are paying my salary. Donna would have normally smiled at this, but she was too busy craning her neck, trying to see over the bodies crowding the bed. Mom was in there somewhere, her voice cracking under the strain of so much screaming—a horrifying sound filled with black despair.

  Another nurse entered the fray, and it seemed almost as though each person had one of Rachel’s limbs in a death-grip as the doctor nimbly scooped up the fallen syringe and ducked under all the bodies to reach her patient.

  And then Mom seemed to … deflate … as though the prick of the needle had punctured more than just her flesh, releasing all the crazy fight in a rush. She fell back against the scattered pillows, long hair matted around her face, the ragged white streak seeming almost to blend in with the putty color of her cheeks.

  One of the other nurses was shaking her head as she straightened a blanket and stepped aside, allowing the orderlies to finish securing Rachel’s arms and legs. “I don’t understand how this could have happened, Doctor Gupta. She was heavily sedated. It doesn’t make any sense …”

  Doctor Gupta looked just as perplexed. She was still holding the syringe, gazing at it as though she was holding something dangerous. “She may have been sedated earlier, but she isn’t now.”

  Donna’s eyes widened and she shook off Aunt Paige’s hand. “What do you mean?”

  The doctor’s face was pinched with confusion. “I pierced her skin, but I didn’t have time to actually administer the sedative. She collapsed, and I could see she was unconscious so I didn’t hit the plunger. It might not have been safe when we don’t know yet—”

  Then Doctor Gupta shook her head, as if only now realizing who she was speaking to. “I’m sorry, you both need to leave. Let us examine Mrs. Underwood and try to get some answers.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll find you afterwards,” Doctor Gupta said, her tone brisk but not unkind.

  To Donna, watching her mother being strapped to a bed, it all looked barbaric. She gritted her teeth to keep from protesting, knowing they were just trying to help; wishing there was something she could do.

  She suddenly remembered her dream again: the image of her mother’s plaited hair, and the vivid green thread that reminded her of Xan’s eyes. And then Ivy’s warning—that Donna wouldn’t refuse the Wood Queen’s request for an audience a second time. She’d hardly given it a thought, what with worrying about getting back to the hearing, and of course the phone call from the Institute. But maybe all these things were linked—the dream, Aliette’s message, and now Mom’s seriously whacked illness. Surely it was obvious, if she actually used her brain and put the pieces together.

  But how could she find out whether or not she was right? She needed to find a way to test her theory: that Rachel Underwood was under some kind of fey attack.

  Aunt Paige helped the wide-eyed Nurse Valderrama herd Donna out of the room, and this time she didn’t put up any resistance. Not because she wasn’t worried about Mom any more, but because she was busy formulating a plan.

  A plan that involved a certain half-fey guy who might be able to tell her what the hell had just happened to her mother, and whether her darkly growing suspicions were right.

  Telling Aunt Paige that she needed to use the bathroom seemed the simplest way of giving her aunt the slip for a few minutes, but Donna was still surprised that she’d been allowed to go to the restroom alone.

  She walked directly to the hospital’s main entrance, dragging anxiety like a long shadow behind her. She tried to look like she wasn’t flicking guilty glances all around the gleaming waiting room, checking to see if Paige had followed her after all.

  Keeping her head down, Donna made for the three public phone booths on the far wall. Ducking behind a chaotic plant display that had grown to epic proportions, she reached for the nearest phone, squeezing her fingers inside the red velvet gloves. She found herself wishing she wasn’t wearing such an obscenely bright color; this little act of rebellion for her trial seemed petty in the face of everything that had just happened.

  She hoped she could remember Xan’s number. Her cell phone had been confiscated two weeks ago, and Simon’s voice still rang in her ears: “Who does she need to call? Her only friend lives next door to her. Everything she needs is right here within the Order.” His mocking tone was about as subtle as his aftershave.

  Thankful to find a few coins in her jeans pocket, Donna made the call. Her heart pounded as she waited to hear Xan’s voice for the first time in way too long. If she weren’t sick with worry over Mom’s condition, she might have been nervous in that annoying, giddy-girly way she seemed to develop around this guy who’d turned her world upside down even though they’d only recently met. But she had no time for nervousness now. Xan was probably the only one who could tell her if her mother’s condition was a result of something the Wood Queen had done.

  She couldn’t reach him at home—the townhouse he lived in alone while his adoptive father was traveling—and how the hell she was able to remember his cell number she would never know. But she did, and almost crumbled with relief. He sounded distracted when he finally answered.

  She could hardly believe how much she’d missed him. “It’s me.”

  “Donna!” Xan quickly lowered his voice. “Where are you? I’ve been calling you for the past two weeks—I don’t think your aunt’s been giving you my messages.”

  “I know,” she replied, trying and failing to stop the tears that were already running down her face. “I knew you would be. But listen to me, Xan; I need your help.”

  “Anything. Anything I can do, you know that.”

  “I’m at Ironbridge General; you have to get here now, please. Ask for the Special Care Unit.”


  “What happened?”

  “It’s my mom. She’s … I think she’s really sick and I don’t think they’ll be able to help us here. Not somewhere like this.”

  He didn’t ask anything else; he didn’t need to. Xan would know exactly what she meant, and once again she felt gratitude that she’d met someone who understood such things without needing endless explanations. Which made her feel guilty about Navin, but, well … that’s just the way it was. Magic did that to your life: filled everything with secrets and shadows, so that it was almost impossible to have a normal friendship.

  Sometimes it almost got your best friend killed, too.

  “Donna? You still there?”

  She shook herself and clutched the receiver more tightly, quickly easing up when she heard the plastic crack. Oops. “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry … I should get back. Aunt Paige will be wondering what happened to me.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said. And then, “I’ve missed you.”

  Despite her growing nerves at what her aunt would do, Donna couldn’t stop the surge of elation as she ran to the nearest staircase.

  Xan was on his way!

  Aunt Paige looked her over, suspicion flashing in her sharp eyes. “Where have you been?”

  “The bathroom. I already told you that.”

  “What took you so long? I was about to come looking for you.”

  “I didn’t feel good. I’ve just seen my mom having a seizure—excuse me for freaking out. I was feeling kind of sick …”

  Pursing her lips in distaste, Paige glanced at the nearby nurses and lowered her voice. “I’m trying to trust you, but I keep expecting you to disappear.”

  Donna simply raised her eyebrows and tried to look innocent, wondering how long it would take for Xan to get there. She’d been so relieved to hear his voice, she hadn’t even thought to ask where he was.