Curio (33 page)
A woman emerged from a doorway Whit hadn't noticed. The color of her hair reminded him of oranges in carts outside the grocer's. Maverick's hand intercepted Whit's as he reached to touch the strands. Whit shook his head. Why had he done that?
The woman's dry voice interrupted. “Cagey, we've got potion packers coming up the walk now.”
Whit sucked on the tip of his tongue. It tasted syrupy sweet.
“Let's go.” Maverick yanked him toward the door.
The dealer pulled the door open, his eyes on Whit.
“Until next time, Whit.”
After a quick salute, Whit followed Maverick through the door. Light in the stairwell tugged his attention. He moved in the direction they'd come from, but Maverick swore and dragged him backward.
“Didn't you hear her? There'll be deputies coming down those stairs any second. Stupid potion heads. As if they don't get enough.”
Whit rolled his heavy eyes in the direction of the stairwell. Boots sounded on the landing above.
“This way.” Maverick ran toward the other end of the building.
Whit trailed a finger along the wall as he walked. The potion bottle was safe in his pocket. Safe where no one could take it away.
His shoes sank into the carpet with every footfall. He stopped and leaned against a door, studying the ground that floated up toward him.
A boy his own age ducked into view. Sweat blistered on the brown skin of the kid's forehead. Was he yelling or whispering? His hands made ovals in the air.
Whit followed. His footsteps sounded like the heavy tread of boots.
G
rey stood on the perimeter of the hangar, gaping as the roof lifted up into the colorless sky, folded at the apex and slid down the outside of the building. The final clatter jarred her bones. A gigantic balloon attached to the pile of scrap metal referred to as “the Clang” swelled upward as if it wanted to escape the charged atmosphere of the hangar and take to the open air.
Inside the body of the airship, another pop sounded as the tocks powered the contraption. Long before daylight, they'd loaded barrels of water and wheelbarrows of cinderite into the hold. Now Gagnon shuffled around, monitoring every aspect of the airship's launch.
Blaise ducked out the back of the airship. The stray hairs not weighed down by his heavy coils stood on end. He ran a hand back from his forehead, smoothing the flyaways. The link of the Defender marks snapped between them even at a distance, and he looked up, dark eyes fixing on her. She had to look away to keep from hurling herself into his arms. This connection could get inconvenient, not to mention confusing. How could she sort out her true feelings when the draw to be near Blaise ran through her blood?
While tocks carried bins of round metal balls on board, Grey checked her disguise. Nearly everything she and Blaise
purchased in Cog Valley the day before served as part of her costume. The gloves, goggles, and long scarf would protect her from the wind on the airship and help her blend in with the rest of the crew. The boots Callis had unearthed were covered in an intricate design of clockwork, mimicking a gearish tock's appearance to a careless eye. With the long coat and her hair piled beneath her hat, she looked very little like Blueboy's fancied-up prize.
Her gaze darted up as her mark surged. Blaise walked toward her, carrying one of the metal orbs. He wore a dingy white shirt with dark, pinstriped pants tucked into his navigation boots. A pair of goggles hung from his neck.
“What's that?” Grey pointed to the ball.
He tossed it up a few inches and caught it. “One of Gagnon's devices. This is what Callis and Seree used to take out the hydro hub. We'll be using them today on Weatherton's locus.”
“And you're just throwing them around?”
He grinned and silky heat slithered through Grey's joints.
“It takes a hard impact to make them explode.”
“Don't bounce it off your head then.”
He chuckled then looked her up and down.
She smoothed a hand down the front of her coat. “Will this do?”
He moved so near she could feel the airship's electricity zinging from his skin to hers. “As long as no one gets too close.”
When he stepped away, Grey hauled in a breath and reined in her galloping thoughts. Blaise sauntered over to the wall, reaching with his good arm to snag his steam pack. His shirt gaped at his chest and the goggles slid across his tan skin. The edge of one lens slipped beneath the fabric. Grey zeroed in on the movement. In the back of her mind a similar scene replayed. She blinked.
“Blueboy.”
“What?” Blaise straightened, wincing as he shrugged into his harness.
Grey hurried over and reached under his injured left arm for the chest strap. As she fastened it, she whispered, “Blueboy has the key. I'm sure of it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The lock in the glass forest.” She met his eyes then returned her attention to the strap. “It's in the glass forest, so it's made of glass, right?”
He stiffened. “Yes.”
“Blueboy wears a chain around his neck with something attached. I thought it was a crystal, but I bet it's the key. Haimon comes to see him periodically to check on the city. I bet he's checking to see if Benedict is still in power and still has the key.”
“Who is Haimon?”
“He works in my grandfather's store. He's got hair and eyes the color of iron.” Grey made slashing motions up her arm. “Scars all over him.”
Blaise's voice dropped to a rumble. “I've seen him. Something about him repels me. No, not what you're thinking. I could care less what the man looks like. Something prevents me from approaching him, as though a force holds me back. It's the same when I fly too high into the fog. I reach a point where I can push no farther. I'm not sure if this Haimon can see me, for though he appears alert and watchful, he's never responded to my signals.”
“That makes sense. Benedict asked me what Haimon was looking for. He must've been looking for you. I bet when Haimon couldn't find you he gave Blueboyâthe most visible porcie in all of Curioâthe key.” Grey tucked the belt tight into its clasp then let her hand rest on Blaise's chest. “I can get it.”
He frowned, dark brows drawn together.
“I can get the key from Blueboy.”
“No.” Blaise grabbed her hand, crushing it in his grasp. “No. Don't you understand what he wants?”
“Knowledge.”
Disgust twisted Blaise's expression. He dropped her hand. “That's one way to put it.”
Grey shook off his suggestion. “You don't understand. He's just like Adante. His true fascination is with himself and what he can do. He thinks my inner workings hold secrets that will make him stronger.”
“Grey, he thinks you're Beauty's Best, just like he thought Fantine was.”
“Which will allow me to get close enough to steal the key.” She held up a hand to ward off Blaise's objection. “Benedict prefers elegance and refinement. If I seem willing to answer questions over a private sip, he will seize the opportunity. He might even trade a certain trinket in exchange for information.”
“And if you're wrong?” Blaise thrust his face close to hers, eyes flashing and mouth hard. “How do you plan to escape before Benedict takes what he wants?”
Grey pulled away and hugged her arms around her middle. “They're breakable. I'll go for his face or his fingers.”
He yanked his harness with his good arm. “Breakable, yes. But they're hard. Could you break a dish with your bare hands back home?”
She jutted her chin out. “Defenders are strong. It's time I tap into that power.”
“We're meant to battle Chemists, Grey. Our strength counterbalances theirs.” He pegged her with a glare. “Benedict is strong. Do you really believe you can fight off a moving statue?”
“Do you really believe I'll let anything stand in the way of getting home? He has the key. I'm sure of it.”
“We'll storm his estate after today's strike.”
“The strike is the perfect diversion. Callis said it will draw Benedict's guards away from the estate. If worse comes to worst at the prison, we can follow Callis's original plan. I'll give myself up in trade for Seree. They'll take me right to Benedict.”
Blaise leaned in, ice in his tone. “This is foolish, Grey.”
His words rattled around in the hollow space in her gut, clattering against the resolve hardening deep within. She stared fiercely into his obsidian eyes. “Don't you have a hydro hub to demolish?”
He turned and stalked toward the Clang. For the second time in less than a day, he left her swollen with the glut of unfinished business between them.
The Clang lived up to its name as it vibrated up and out of the hangar. Standing on the open rear deck, Blaise found Grey's upturned face among the small army of tocks assembled below. She gave him a short wave.
This was all wrong. They should be on this branch of the mission together. She was insane to think she could go up against Blueboy alone. Blaise shook his head one last time. If she saw the gesture, she ignored it.
If only Callis would see reason, but Blaise's last-minute pleas to join the modified's team met with hostility. He could leave the airship once they were over Cog Valley and tail the rescue party, but Gagnon needed him to scout. Limited visibility from the bow of the ship to the ground put the airship in danger from a ground assault.
A cheer went up as the hull cleared the hangar walls. The cords attaching the ship to the balloon above creaked with the weight of the apparatus. A conveyer pulley whirred
on Blaise's right, dragging a belt up under a large metal dome where another pulley brought it back down again. Arcs of electricity built between the dome and half a dozen metal receptors attached to jars. Wires led from the jars down beneath the floor grid to a tank of contaminated water straight from the underground lake. Two glass tubes jutted from the vat up through the floor again, heading to openings in the Clang's roof. One fed gas into the massive envelope above them.
Blaise studied the mechanism. Any disruption and the contrivance would fail, sending the ship plummeting to the ground. Up on the quarterdeck, Gagnon maneuvered a wheel and the Clang rattled over the machine yard and out above Cog Valley.
Blaise readied his steam pack and leapt off the deck. Air currents caught him, pushing him back into the Clang's wake. He engaged the fins on his boots and circled the ship, giving the hull a wide berth to avoid the stream of displaced air. The cobbled-together bits of metal gleamed in the diffused morning light. Outside of the ship, the power mechanism wasn't nearly as loud. The clink of metal against metal set his teeth on edge at close range but lessened when he put distance between himself and the behemoth.
The maze of Cog Valley stretched beneath them to the base of the Shelf. A few tocks and exiled porcies stopped their work and pointed at Gagnon's contraption. They posed no threat, but once the Clang cleared the Shelf and floated over the factory district, word would spread of the flying metal ship.
After a fruitless jaunt in the direction of the wide dirt road leading out of the valley toward Harrowstone prison, Blaise flew back to the airship. He aimed for the open stern, but a current pushed him back. The force of the wind strained the framework of his wings. On his second attempt, he flew
above the airstream until the top of the stern opening was only feet away. Folding his wings, he dove for the exposed deck at the rear of the ship.
A tock buzzed in surprise as Blaise crashed onto the floor grid. The man's metal-planed face hovered over Blaise.
“Are you fully animated, sir?”
Blaise got to his feet and brushed off his pants. “I'm not a porcie, but yes, I'm sufficiently animated.”
“You're the one they call the Mad Tock.”
Blaise gave a little bow. “I am, but as you can see I'm not a tock either.”