Curio (20 page)
The flight lasted only a few moments, but the view of destruction seemed endless. Her rescuer made for a row of attached buildings on the opposite side of the square from the galleria. The slanted roof grew closer. Grey tensed, preparing for a drop. Her arms and legs still swung like ropes beneath her despite her attempts to straighten. The tiles loomed larger.
They swept up and over the apex of the roof, skimming down over the back portion of the building. The pressure against her back shifted, spreading down her hips. A pair of legs wearing odd boots descended behind her, stretching out to steady her own limbs. The arms securing her torso tugged her upright. Together they tilted into a vertical position. The compression on her midsection lessened as her shoulders eased back to rest against a bumpy surface.
She jumped at the voice in her ear. “Brace yourself.”
G
rey stretched her toes toward the tiles below, anxious to feel something solid beneath her feet. Her rescuer's leg, pressed flush against hers, bent at the knee, forcing hers into the same position. When her boot connected with the surface, she scrabbled and pitched forward. The roof whizzed up to meet her outstretched hands and she slammed down hard.
“Oof.” A metallic exclamation mixed with Grey's own groan. Weight pinned her to the slope, and the scent of sawdust and machine oil filled her nostrils.
The pressure lifted as the tock rolled off her, but the air was slow to fill her lungs. She lay with her cheek pressed against the smooth tile and struggled to pull in shallow breaths. From the corner of her eye, she caught one large wing folding in on itself.
Footsteps clattered on the roof, breaking through the ringing in Grey's ears. She rolled onto her back and planted her feet on the slant beneath her. The colorless sky played scenes of screaming porcies and rolling water. Knees bent, Grey braced herself until the trembling stopped.
When she could move her head without an accompaniment of stars, she searched for the flying tock. He perched on the far edge of the connected buildings, peering down
to the side street below. The tips of the folded wings jutted above his shoulders. Thick ropes of dark hair fell between them, glinting as though threaded with strands of metal. He turned, revealing the profile Grey had expected. Her visitor.
Unbending from his squat, he scaled the roof with a practiced tread, stopping at the apex to survey the square.
Grey sat up. The bruises and scrapes on her body performed an involuntary roll call, but at least she could breathe. She clambered to her feet, waiting to get her balance before she crept after the tock who'd saved her once again.
He must've heard her movement. He whipped a gloved hand behind him in a gesture that clearly meant stay back.
The sight of his arm brought Grey up short. Black stains seeped up the fabric of his sleeve from wrist to elbow. The heavy material of his boots bore signs of the foul water that burst out of nowhere into the center of Curio City. Grey wrapped her arms around her middle, wincing at the tenderness of her ribs and the wet residue on her clothes.
“What happened?” Her demand made him jerk. “Where did all that water come from?”
He turned and took a few steps away from the peak of the roof, leaving plenty of distance between them. A pair of goggles pushed the hair away from his brow, and his eyes scrutinized her from above a grid-like mask covering the lower portion of his face. She faltered and nearly lost her balance. He looked like a deputy. Grey's muscles tensed as she gestured toward the city square.
“You're the Mad Tock, aren't you? Did you cause the flood? They're dying down there.”
He tossed his head, a quick, restrained gesture but unusual for a tock. His voice, however, still carried the familiar mechanized whir of tock speech. “They're not dying. The water will damage them but not kill them.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, and the exposed skin at the base of his neck drew Grey's attention. Smooth skin, not tock metal. Was he a porcie?
She moved closer, examining him. He was tall, even for a porcie, and broad-shouldered. The skin she glimpsed wasn't the cream color of a porcie's complexion, but golden brown. He wore brown pants tucked into the tall boots withâwere those fins on his heels? The straps holding his flying contraption to his back crisscrossed over his shirt, secured by buckles.
“I saw the water cover a mother and child. I saw a man's arm shatter. Iâ”
“A keeper. You saw a keeper and a child,” he said. “They don't procreate.” He flung his arms wide. “And what were you doing out there anyway? You had to pick today of all days to leave Blueboy's mansion?
You
could've drowned.”
“I . . .” How did he know so much about her? She thought back to the note he'd delivered. Without it, she might've starved. “Who
are
you?”
He made a jerky bow, buckles and straps jangling. “I'm the Mad Tock, as you said. I'm the bogey man. The Big Owl. A flying nightmare. And I have things to do.”
He tugged a handle attached to a cord threaded through the straps at his side. A soft whooshing sound followed. With his thumb he jabbed a button over his shoulder and the wings spread out on either side of him.
“Wait.” Grey picked her way across the roof as fast as she dared, keeping her focus on the tiles beneath her feet. “Just wait a minâ” She lifted her gaze to the tock, now only a few feet away, and sucked in a quick breath.
The eyes looking down at her were near black with just the slightest hint of deep brown at the edge. The skin around them crinkled as he inched away from her. The scent that had lingered in her memory since she arrived in Curio
invaded her senses once again. Beneath the rich tones of oil and wood, the faintest tinge of sweat remained.
“You're human.”
For a moment he studied her with those liquid eyes. One word slipped through the mask. “Yes.”
He reached up and yanked on a strap, detaching the mechanism that covered his mouth and nose. The grid dangled to the side of his head, revealing the lower portion of his face. His bronze skin tone and full lower lip caught her eye first. He had a straight nose with a subtle dent at the end that was echoed in his chin. If they were back in Mercury she'd guess he was just out of school. Maybe working in the mines like Whit, though the breadth of his shoulders would better suit him to laying railroad ties.
“What's your name?”
He rolled his eyes and shifted his attention to the apparatus he wore. Between pulls to the cord at his side, he said, “Blaise,” adding a surname in warmly accented tones.
“How did you get here?”
He was already fastening the mouth grid back on. The answer came in the simulated tock tone. “You don't understand. I have to
go. Now.
”
He trotted to the back edge of the roof and studied the skyline.
“Wait. How am I supposed to get down?”
Grey crept to the eave and risked a glance down. She jerked backward. The alley running behind the adjoined buildings was several stories beneath them. A dark rivulet cut through the gravel. The water oozed, leaving black sediment wherever it touched.
Blaise turned, the tip of his wing brushing Grey's shoulder. “I can set you down somewhere safe, and then I have to find my friends.”
Grey stabbed a finger at her chest. “
I
have to find Fantine. She was at the galleria whenâ”
He muttered a distorted curse. “The worst of the flood is over. We can fly over once and look for her.”
Grey straightened her spine and glowered at him. “You can set me down, and I'll wade through that muck and find her.”
“Suit yourself.”
They squared off on the rim of the roof. Grey fumed. She'd found another human in Curio, and he wouldn't even stick around long enough to explain his existence there. Worse yet, he was some kind of revolutionary.
He motioned her closer. “Come here.”
The heat of her anger altered to a warmth that swirled in her core and burned her cheeks.
He jerked the cord at his side again. “Would you come on? I can't risk my cinderite cooling.”
Grey pressed her lips together and stalked over to him. He took one step back from the edge of the roof and grasped her by the shoulders. His gloved hands cupped her upper arms as he positioned her in front of him, facing the opposite way.
Years under the crimson laws told her to shrink from his touch, yet she stood firm. He stepped close, bringing his body up against hers. A firm chest pressed against her back, hips aligned with hers, and muscular legs framed her own. Her breathing grew shallow as strong arms encircled her waist, pressing into her ribcage. She flinched.
“All right?” His voice buzzed in her ear.
“My ribs are sore.”
“Oh.” He loosened his hold and spread his fingers over her torso, moving them in gentle exploration.
For a moment her breath fled and a haze muffled all but his touch. When he pressed a bruise, a whimper escaped her
lips. Blaise stopped his prodding and hung his head above her shoulder, his mask hovering by her cheek.
His replicated tock voice hummed in her ear. “I've never carried a human before. I'll try to adjust. I'm sorry I hurt you.”
Her knees went soft, but she forced her mind back to the situation. He hadn't denied her accusation; he was involved in whatever caused the flood. Blaise's chivalry toward her made his disregard for Curio's citizens all the worse.
She focused on the vista of Curio City spread out before her. Word would be reaching the more distant neighborhoods. The porcies and tocks were probably desperate to hear news of their loved ones.
“If I may?” Blaise moved his hands beneath her arms and lifted her up and back. “Stand on top of my boots. When I take off, wrap your feet behind my legs. That should help take the pressure off your middle. I'm going to put one arm here and one here.”
He reached across her body and secured one hand on her hip. The other arm he tucked gingerly under her bosom. Her face flamed. She held herself rigid and conjured Whit's face, but a pair of liquid brown eyes broke into the vision.
Behind her, Blaise twisted, checking his contraption. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
He slid his feet to the edge of the roof. Her hands darted back, finding holds among the straps at his hips. She held tight as he tilted forward. For a split second, they fell. Grey's stomach jolted and her veins flooded with exhilaration. They jerked midair as the wings arrested their plummet. Blaise's grip loosened for a moment, then his hands clamped onto her hip and side. Swinging her legs back, she hooked her feet behind his calves just above the fins attached to his boots.
They flew around the side of the buildings where they'd landed and over the city square. The wind plucked Grey's exclamation from her lips. Below them porcies, tocks, and various forms of animals waded through the knee-high water. They were covered in muck, but the water no longer surged. Above the galleria, the golden hydro hub teetered. Water dripped from a gaping hole in its side. One jagged shard of metal hung from the opening, dangling like a giant chip of paint.
Grey wrinkled her nose at the smell of rust, rotten eggs, and some chemical she couldn't name.
“Do you see her?” His voice carried over the wind and the shushing sound of his wings.
She searched the scene below for Fantine. Her lungs tightened. Despite what Blaise had said, porcies crumpled in heaps on benches and walls, some moving and some still. The residue covering them didn't hide the jagged edges of broken and missing limbs. Fantine was nowhere to be seen.
Grey blinked stinging eyes. “Set me down. I'll look for her.”
Blaise headed for a raised dais in the center of the park. Grey disentangled her legs from his and braced herself. This time she didn't trip when they landed.
He let go of her and she swung around to face him. Words stuck in her throat. He'd saved her, been gentle with her, and yet all around her porcies and tocks suffered. Wails and frantic conversation filled her ears.
He took a step forward. On level ground he was a head taller than Grey. He looked down at her a moment, a question scrunching the corners of his eyes. Then he yanked his goggles down, hiding all of his face from view.
He said something that sounded like “I'll find you.” Then he ran to the edge of the dais, his feet leaving the concrete just before he would have plunged into the murky water.
