Holly Black - The Poison Eaters: and Other Stories

Small Beer Press
www.lcrw.net

Copyright 2010 by Holly Black

First published in 2010, 2010

The

Poison

Eaters

and

Other

Stories

Modern Faerie Tales

Tithe

Valian

Ironside

The Curse Workers

White Cat

Red Glove (forthcoming)

Black Heart (forthcoming)

The Good Neighbors (with Ted Naifeh)

Kit

Kin

Kind (forthcoming)

Anthologies

Geektastic: Stories of the Nerd Herd, edited by Holly Black and Cecil Castellucci

Zombies vs. Unicorns, edited by Holly Black and Justine Larbalestier (forthcoming)

For Younger Readers

The Spiderwick Chronicles (with Tony DiTerlizzi)

The Field Guide

The Seeing Stone

Lucinda's Secret

The Ironwood Tre

The Wrath of Mulgarath

Beyond the Spiderwick Chronicles (with Tony DiTerlizzi)

The Nixie's Song

A Giant Problem

The Wyrm King

Arthur Spiderwick's Field Guide to the Fantastical World Around You (with Tony DiTerlizzi)

The Care and Feeding of Sprites (with Tony DiTerlizzi)

and Other

Stories

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this story are either fictitious or used fictitiously.

The Poison Eaters and Other Stories copyright (C) 2010 by Holly Black. All rights reserved.

Individual stories (C) by Holly Black. Page 216 functions as an extension of the copyright page.

www.blackholly.com

Interior illustrations copyright (C) 2010 by Theo Black. All rights reserved.

www.theblackarts.com

Cover art copyright (C) 2010 by Corbis. All rights reserved.

Cover design by Base Art Co. (www.baseartco.com)

Big Mouth House

150 Pleasant Street #306

Easthampton, MA 01027

www.bigmouthhouse.net

info@bigmouthhouse.net

Distributed to the trade by Consortium.

First Edition

February 2010

Text set in Centaur. Titles set in Kruella.

Printed on 30% post-consumer recycled paper by Thomson-Shore of Dexter, MI.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available on request.

ISBN 978-1-931520-63-8

who bullied me into being a better write

Matilda was drunk, but then she was always drunk anymore. Dizzy drunk. Stumbling drunk. Stupid drunk. Whatever kind of drunk she could get.

The man she stood with snaked his hand around her back, warm fingers digging into her side as he pulled her closer. He and his friend with the open-necked shirt grinned down at her like underage equaled dumb, and dumb equaled gullible enough to sleep with them.

She thought they might just be right.

"You want to have a party back at my place? the man asked. He'd told her his name was Mark, but his friend kept slipping up and calling him by a name that started with a D. Maybe Dan or Dave. They had been smuggling her drinks from the bar whenever they went outside to smokedrinks mixed sickly sweet that dripped down her throat like candy.

"Sure, she said, grinding her cigarette against the brick wall. She missed the hot ash in her hand, but concentrated on the alcoholic numbness turning her limbs to lead. Smiled. Can we pick up more beer?"

They exchanged an obnoxious glance she pretended not to notice. The friendhe called himself Benlooked at her glassy eyes and her cold-flushed cheeks. Her sloppy hair. He probably made guesses about a troubled home life. She hoped so.

"You're not going to get sick on us? he asked. Just out of the hot bar, beads of sweat had collected in the hollow of his throat. The skin shimmered with each swallow.

She shook her head to stop staring. I'm barely tipsy, she lied.

I've got plenty of stuff back at my place, said MarkDanDave. Mardave, Matilda thought and giggled.

"Buy me a 40, she said. She knew it was stupid to go with them, but it was even stupider if she sobered up. One of those wine coolers. They have them at the bodega on the corner. Otherwise, no party."

Both of the guys laughed. She tried to laugh with them even though she knew she wasn't included in the joke. She was the joke. The trashy little slut. The girl who can be bought for a big fat wine cooler and three cranberry-and-vodkas.

"Okay, okay, said Mardave.

They walked down the street and she found herself leaning easily into the heat of their bodies, inhaling the sweat and iron scent. It would be easy for her to close her eyes and pretend Mardave was someone else, someone she wanted to be touched by, but she wouldn't let herself soil her memories of Julian.

They passed by a store with flat-screens in the window, each one showing different channels. One streamed video from Coldtowna girl who went by the name Demonia made some kind of deal with one of the stations to show what it was really like behind the gates. She filmed the Eternal Ball, a party that started in 1998 and had gone on ceaselessly ever since. In the background, girls and boys in rubber harnesses swung through the air. They stopped occasionally, opening what looked like a modded hospital tube stuck on the inside of their arms just below the crook of the elbow. They twisted a knob and spilled blood into little paper cups for the partygoers. A boy who looked to be about nine, wearing a string of glowing beads around his neck, gulped down the contents of one of the cups and then licked the paper with a tongue as red as his eyes. The camera angle changed suddenly, veering up, and the viewers saw the domed top of the hall, full of cracked windows through which you could glimpse the stars.

"I know where they are, Mardave said. I can see that building from my apartment."

"Aren't you scared of living so close to the vampires? she asked, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"We'll protect you, said Ben, smiling back at her.

"We should do what other countries do and blow those corpses sky high, Mardave said.

Matilda bit her tongue not to point out that Europe's vampire hunting led to the highest levels of infection in the world. So many of Belgium's citizens were vampires that shops barely opened their doors until nightfall. The truce with Coldtown worked. Mostly.

She didn't care if Mardave hated vampires. She hated them too.

When they got to the store, she waited outside to avoid getting carded and lit another cigarette with Julian's silver lighterthe one she was going to give back to him in thirty-one days. Sitting down on the curb, she let the chill of the pavement deaden the backs of her thighs. Let it freeze her belly and frost her throat with ice that even liquor couldn't melt.