Page 37 of Box of Frogs
Morgan’s answer was sharp. ‘Don’t call her that.’
‘Do you think she did this?’
What an arsebadger. Why would I go around poisoning other faeries? I almost raised my head to snap at the suggestion but fortunately Morgan was already there. ‘No,’ he answered. ‘There’s no reason to suggest she did.’
There was a brief pause. ‘Has anyone checked the border? Did he come through? Is—’
‘It’s still blocked.’
Disappointment coloured every word of the response. ‘Shit. You’re sure? Shit.’
‘We should wake him up. Question him and find out who he really is and what he knows. Throw some water on him or something.’
‘No need,’ Morgan answered. ‘He’s already awake.’
Gasbudlikins, that man was vexing. Yielding to the inevitable, I opened my eyes, propped myself up on my elbows and gazed round at the room. I definitely still felt woozy. Better though; I was sure I was better. I clocked the one and only exit – blocked to me at the moment – and the lack of weaponry, which could be both a good and bad thing. Then I turned my attention to the people.
Four pairs of eyes stared back at me: Morgan’s ice-green chips; an older looking gentleman wearing a morning suit, of all things, whose racing-green cravat matched his irises; a middle-aged woman with lighter green eyes which were watching my every breath, and Jodie’s baby blues. No prizes for guessing who wasn’t Fey then.
‘Who are you?’ Morgan asked. There was no censure in his tone but it was clear he wasn’t going to be my best friend just yet.
I didn’t answer immediately. I wasn’t yet sure how to tell him who I really was. If he’d struggled to believe that I had amnesia before, how could I get him to believe that I looked like a hairy wrestler now? Timmons had already suggested it was next to impossible to maintain a glamour for any length of time.
While I debated the best way to approach the truth, my captors were growing impatient. ‘Listen, matey,’ Cravat Man hissed, ‘we’ve given you the nux antidote you needed. Your system has all but flushed the rowan out. You owe us. Now tell us who you are and where you’ve come from.’
I brightened. Finally, some good news. I’d barely had time to digest it properly, however, when the Fey woman broke in. ‘This is a waste of time. Unless we test him properly with a truth draw, we’ll never know whether he’s telling us the truth or not. It’s not like one of Rubus’s Truth Spiders but it’ll still work.’
‘Viburna, just wait. You…’
She crouched down beside me and took my hands. Maybe she wanted to dance or something. That was a nice thought – until my skin began to tingle unpleasantly. ‘Hey!’ I exclaimed.
Morgan’s eyes narrowed though he didn’t say anything. He simply crossed his arms over his broad chest and continued to watch me.
‘What’s your name?’ Viburna asked, her words soft and melodic.
The tingling sensation increased. I tried to pull my hands away but Viburna was much stronger than she looked. She kept a firm grip on me and continued to stare into my eyes.
‘He’s resisting,’ Cravat Man muttered.
‘Tell us your name,’ Viburna repeated.
I licked my lips. It felt as if the answer was being tugged out of me against my will and, for that reason alone, I forced my mouth to stay closed.
Cravat Man stared at me. ‘Try something else. A different question.’
Viburna’s fingers stroked my skin. ‘Where have you come from?’
Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead. She was obviously using some sort of nasty Fey magic on me. Frankly, that was just rude. I’d have told them the truth by now if they hadn’t started treating me like an enemy prisoner. Maybe.
‘He knew my name,’ Jodie butted in. ‘He must belong to Rubus.’
‘Is that true?’ Viburna asked. ‘Are you one of his?’
I continued to resist. So much for the damned truce Morgan kept talking about. It was taking every ounce of energy I had to stay quiet; this was torture in all but name. No wonder all these Fey arsebadgers were so miserable and tense all the time if they had this kind of crap to put up with.
‘He’s strong,’ Cravat Man said. ‘Try harder.’
Viburna gritted her teeth. ‘Iamtrying.’
