Never see her family or friends again . . .
She wanted to curl up in a ball on the floor—or at least pace anxiously back and forth like Keefe and Biana. But Dex’s eyes were rimmed with red, and tears stained his cheeks.
“Hey,” she said, sitting beside him. “You okay?”
Dex wiped his runny nose. “My invention caused all of this.”
“No, that was the Council,” Sophie corrected. “They set the trap. And Fitz’s injury really was an accident.”
“Still, if I hadn’t rushed to attack—”
“You were trying to help,” Sophie told him. “No one blames you for that.”
“I know my brother won’t,” Biana promised as she sat on Dex’s other side.
Dex didn’t look convinced.
“So what’s Physic like?” Keefe asked, sitting next to Sophie. “Did it seem like she knew what she was doing?”
“I don’t know,” Dex mumbled. “Normally I’d think someone wearing a sparkly mask and calling themselves Physic was crazy. But it’s the Black Swan, so . . .”
Sophie sighed. “She better be as good as Elwin.”
“If she’s not, we’ll sneak into the Lost Cities and kidnap him,” Keefe promised. When she didn’t smile, he nudged her with his elbow. “Aw, don’t worry too much, Foster. Fitz didn’t look half as bad as you did during your last few brushes with death, and you’re still with us—though maybe you two could cool it with the almost dying thing, okay?”
“I agree,” Mr. Forkle said, striding into the room. “Physic has things stabilized if you would like to see Mr. Vacker.”
Sophie’s knees shook so hard Keefe had to steady her on her way to Fitz’s room.
“Relax,” Keefe told her. “You’ll be back to Sophitz in no time. I bet . . .”
His joke died on his tongue when they slipped through the doorway and caught their first glimpse of Fitz. He was shirtless and unconscious, his chest covered in a black spiderweb of veins. Della sat beside him, holding a silver compress against his forehead.
“I killed Wonderboy,” Dex whispered, not helping things.
Keefe tightened his hold on Sophie’s shoulders.
“It looks worse than it is,” Physic promised, adjusting her mask, which looked Mardi-Gras style, with black swans painted around the eyes and purple jewels rimming the edges. The same purple jewels had been woven into her long, thin braids, and dotted along her dark skin. “I’ve already sealed the wound,” she added. “And I have the damaged tissue repairing. Now we just need to get the venom out of his system.”
She fished through a golden trunk, pulling out handfuls of tiny bottles. “This will make for a pretty awful day,” she warned as she emptied a vial of dried leaves into her palm. “But I’m guessing that’s probably true already. Now, which one of you can help me?”
“Foster volunteers!” Keefe said, then whispered in her ear, “You’ll feel better if you help.”
“Ah, it’s the moonlark,” Physic said as Sophie stumbled forward. “Glad we get to meet—though I wish I weren’t stuck behind this mask. I’d tell you my real name, but then I’d face the wrath of that one.” She tilted her head toward Mr. Forkle, who did not look pleased. “See those serums I took out?” she asked, pointing to a cluster of vials on the bed. “Pop the lid on the purple one and hand it to me. Then uncap the green and blue and wait until I’m ready.”
Sophie did as she instructed, and Physic smashed the herbs in her other hand until the leaves formed a pulp. “Okay, on three I need you to pour those on his chest at the same time I pour this one. Got it?”
Sophie nodded.
On “one” Physic sprinkled the leaf-mush all over the veiny spiderweb.
On “two” she massaged the pulp into Fitz’s pale skin.
On “three” they both drizzled the syrupy elixirs all over the leaves until every single bit of the spiderweb was covered.
“That will draw the venom out of his skin,” she explained as she wrapped Fitz’s chest with a roll of silver silk. “And this”—she dusted off her hands and poured a vial of thick yellow sludge under Fitz’s tongue—“will get it out of his system. It will make him vomit. A lot.”
“Don’t we need to get him a bowl or something, then?” Della asked.
“Way ahead of you.” Physic pulled out what looked like a shiny silver handkerchief and shook it a few times, turning it into a bag big enough to hold a bowling ball. “Keep this sealed tight when he’s done. I need an uncontaminated sample.”
“You want a bag of Fitz’s barf?” Keefe asked, snapping out of his daze. “Wow, that’s even too gross for me.”
Physic shrugged. “It’s not even in the top ten grossest things I’ve done.”
“What’s in the top ten?” Keefe asked.
“I’ll tell you another time.”
“Wait, are you leaving?” Biana asked as Physic closed her trunk.