Into the Ether (8 page)

 

“What were you thinking?”
Colonel Worthington
asked.

“I wasn't.
I thought that was pretty obvious.”
I flinched as
he
gently prodded my hand.

Phillip retreated to a far corner, cradling a brandy snifter and watching us.

Colonel Worthington
shook his head.
“You're lucky you didn't touch him any longer than that.
As it is, the burns will heal.
You'll have scars, but you won't lose any movement of your hands.”

I winked and grinned.
“A good thing, in my line of work.”

He glared, but it lacked any real heat.

He chose his next words much more carefully.
“What would possess you to try and touch Thomason?
You had to have known what would happen.”

I ignored the rebuke in his words.
He hobbled to the doorway in the back that led to the tiny room he slept in.
I craned my neck and saw him rummaging through a chest at the end of the neatly made bed.

I turned away and took a deep breath, stealing myself for a look at my hand.
In the firelight, it
appeared
much worse than it had in the dimness of the museum.
The skin was angry and deep red.
In some places huge white blisters were forming.
Even the tiniest twitch of my fingers sent spears of pain driving up my arm like thin steel skewers.
I didn't want to think about what it would feel like when they swelled and burst.
I let my head drop to the back of the chair and sighed.
I'd done it this time.

And it hadn't answered a single question.
Only added to the
already
existing
list
.

Colonel Worthington
reentered
the room, holding a squat
,
brown
,
ceramic pot.
Pulling a chair closer, he uncorked it.
A noxious smell wafted out and I gagged.

“You aren't seriously considering putting that on my hands, are you?”

“It
'
ll help.”

I could feel the hairs in my nose curling at the scent.
“I think it might kill my sense of smell.”

He chuckled, but grasped my wrist.
“Beggars can't be choosers.”

I didn't want to relent, but
he
le
ft no
room for movement, and I
had no desire
to jostle my wound any more than I had already
.
The pain settled into a dull throbbing ache I could feel in my teeth with each heartbeat.

His eyes moved to mine.
“This is going to hurt, but it
'
ll hur
t more if you flinch.
Should
Phillip
hold your arm
, or can you sit still?”

I looked between the pot and my hand.
The phrase “discretion is the better part of valor” began to have more meaning for me.
Without looking at him, I sniffed.
“You might want to have
Phillip help
just in case.”

Colonel Worthington
watched me for a moment, nodded once, and
took Phillip aside, telling him what he was planning to do, I assume
d
.
I took the opportunity to study the gross concoction he intended to smear on my hand.
It looked like someone had scraped the side of a building clean and mixed it with butter.
My stomach protested the proximity of the mess, and I put it as far from me as I could without moving.

I wanted to believe that I would sit, stoic and quiet
,
while he fixed up my injury, but I knew better.
It hurt to twitch a finger, let alone have someone prodding at the flesh.
Somehow, I didn't think sitting still was going to be easy.

Colonel Worthington
returned a few moments later, Phillip in tow.
He looked as if he
had been back down to his boilers
.
Sweat beaded on his brow and upper lip, and he looked green around the edges.
I'm not sure who was more upset
,
him or me.

“
I don't think I'm cut out for
this.
I could go get Walter,
”
Phillip said.
Colonel Worthington
poked a finger into his back
.
The closer they came, the shinier Phillip's face became.

I grunted.
“Walter?
Really?
You already know what I'm going to say to that.”

His shoulders drooped.
“I had to try.”

He got a closer look at my hand and hissed.
“Gennie,
why did you hit him
,
anyway
?”

“Because she lost her temper.”
Colonel Worthington
interjected from his bedroom.
He emerged with strips of white cloth draped over one arm.

Phillip's eyes rolled skyward.
“Really?
I thought you were smarter than that.”

“Obviously not.”

The silence made the skin between my shoulder blades twitch.
The air felt oppressive and smelled.
Phillip moved behind my chair.
He leaned forward over me, but didn't touch me.
I looked up at him.

“I think you'll be fine, but I'm here just in case.”

“Shouldn't you be holding me down before he starts?”

Phillip smiled.
“I'm faster than I look.”

I didn't say anything else.
Colonel Worthington
scooped a wad of the foul paste on two large fingers and grasped my wrist in the other.
His touch was
soft
, but the grip was tight.
He waited, watching me.
I sucked in a mouthful of air and then jerked my head once.

His fingers on my broken flesh were like someone clawing my skin.
I wanted to scream, but I forced myself to stay silent.
Phillip shifted behind me, but other than a stiffening of my spine, I didn't move.

The goo had some sort of numbing compound in it, because after a few seconds of painful tingling, the pain receded to a mere throb.
Colonel Worthington
's fingers worked fast and with gentleness I hadn't expected.

I released the breath I'd been holding and sucked in more air.
He didn't look up as he wrapped the white linen strips around my hand and then tied them off around my wrists.
Despite the lessening of the pain, the jostling and movement of my hands streaked up and down my arm as he turned and wove the fabric around.

He finished and released
me
and my entire body seemed to lose its starch.
I slumped into the chair.
Phillip's large hands patted my shoulders.
“Excellently done, Gennie.
I've seen grown men faint at that kind of treatment.”

Colonel Worthington
corked the bottle with a smirk.
“He would know.
Last time he burned himself I had a devil of a time getting his limp body to stay in the chair.”

A weak giggle escaped my lips.
Colonel Worthington moved to the sink, washed his hands then put away the jar.
I thought I saw him pull out some sort of scented lotion and rub it into his hands, but I couldn't be sure.

“Don't listen to him.
I didn't faint.
He's just saying that to make you feel better
.”
Phillip tried to sound convincing, but his face had turned a lovely shade of pink.

I suppressed
another giggle.
The mirth was short lived, as I looked down in my lap where the worn tweed cap sat, stained and silent.
The hole in my chest tore a little larger.

Colonel Worthington
sat back down, propping his crutch against the side of the wing chair.
“Now, Genevieve, what are you planning to do?”

I blinked.
“What do you mean?”

His gaze was sympathetic.
“I am assuming you are
n'
t planning on returning to your band of thieves.
If you want it, there
'
s a place for you here.”

Butterflies fluttered to life in my stomach.
I straightened my shoulders and looked
Colonel Worthington
in the eye.
“I have something to tell you first.”

 

Colonel Worthington
steepled his hands and watched me.
It unnerved me a little how calm he was.
As if he already knew what I
planned
to tell him.
Phillip took a chair next to the fireplace and straddled it.
Even he looked like he expected something.
My heart sank a little further.
Phillip had known, and he'd been a friend.
It didn't say much for my character.

“I owe you both an apology.”
My head dipped in Phillip's direction, “My goal when I came here was to scope the place out and steal something.
I didn't have a
choice
.
Powerful peo
ple made a deal with Justin
.”

I didn't wait to see what they were thinking.
I kept my eyes fixed on a crack in the wall over the doorway.
“I was supposed to check out the museum and see what I could find and then spend a few days trying to pinpoint the location of the object.
Then I was supposed to steal it and
return to Justin
.
They shouldn't have chosen me.
Everyone knows I have no heart for thieving.
But Spiros said I would be able to find the object.
Only I would be able to tell if it was the right object.”

“How?”
Colonel Worthington
's voice cut in, sharp and harsh.

I flinched.
“He said I
'
d just know.
Didn't give any other information than that.”

“What was the thing you were supposed to find?”
Colonel Worthington
asked.

I risked a glance at him.
His bushy brows were drawn into a frown over his eyes, and he watched me carefully.
Phillip just looked disappointed.
That hurt far worse than the scorn the curator oozed.

“A box.
No one said what was in it.
Just that it was a box
: not too big, made of metal
.
Possibly with a key.”

He nodded once.
“Why tell me this now?”

My shoulders fell.
“I needed to tell you.
Because you've been kind to me for no reason at all, and the only other person that has done that is Terry, and,” my voice cracked and I blinked away fresh tears.
“We all
see
where that got him.
I figured if I told you, you could protect yourselves.”

“Are you still planning to steal the box?”

Anger mixed with the shame and sadness I felt, making me shake.
My
fingers
clutched the hat to my chest.
“No.
They betrayed me.
Worse, they hurt someone who didn't have anything to do with this other than
his friendship with me
.”

“Why
protect us now?
Why should I believe you?
”
Colonel Worthington
asked, his words cutting deep.

I didn't want to look at him, but I forced myself to raise my head.

“
Maybe you shouldn't trust me.
But
you've been kind to me
and
I like you.
And I love this place.
It never mattered to the artifacts or to either of you that I can't remember where I came from or that I've lived in a sewer for the last six years.
And if I can protect you where I couldn't protect Terry, then I have to try.”

Phillip's voice was hard to read.
“Why do you speak about it as if Terry is dead?”

I held the hat out in my free hand.
“There's blood on this!
He was running away from them when he came to you, and then this appears.
What other conclusion is there?”

Phillip didn't say anything else.
My eyes burned, but I'd cried enough tears.
Anger was a warmer,
stronger
emotion.
I didn't want to feel any weaker than I already did whenever I looked at the blood on Terry's hat.

I looked at
Colonel Worthington
.
“I understand if you'd like me to leave.
I don't have much, so it won't take long to get it all together.”

I pushed myself up out of the chair, cradling my injured hand against my stomach.

“I didn't say that, did I?”

I stopped, the wind dashed from my sails.
“What?”

“My dear
,
Genevieve, I've known you were sent here to steal something for quite awhile.
I even know who Spiros is and who employs him.
I'm quite impressed you and your friend have managed to stand up to them for this long.”

I sank back into my seat, staring at the curator.
My mouth opened and closed, but there were no words that seemed appropriate.
“How?”

He sat back in the chair.
“I've been in the employ of the empire long enough to have my own contacts and methods.
Let's just leave it at that.”

I wiped at the tears that snuck from the corners of my eyes.
“Why would you keep me here if you knew?”

He spread his hands wide.
“What better way to keep
watch
on you than to keep you close?
From a distance, I'd have had to patrol the building myself every night.”
He glanced down at his leg.
“And I'm too old for that nonsense.”

Phillip watched me, his thoughts hidden from my
view.
Colonel Worthington
leaned forward, intent on my
face.
“The question, my dear, is what you
intend
to do now.
Are you going to retreat to the streets somewhere or are you going to accept the offer I'm giving you, and stay here with us to continue working in the museum?”

Not what I had expected.
The heaviness in my heart eased a little at the offer.
The
y didn't intend on turning me out on
to the streets.
He gave me a choice and would let me stay here.
I knew the best
answer
. The
one safest for them would be to leave.
But where would I go?
There was nowhere left on the streets that Spiros or Justin would
n'
t find me.
Within five minutes of leaving
,
Justin would have received word of my whereabouts.
I knew it, and I suspected
Colonel Worthington
did as well.

“I would like to stay, if you're sure you want me.”

My fingers picked at the knot on my wrist.
“Can you forgive me for my lies, Phillip?
I never meant to hurt you, and I knew it would if I carried out the plan.”

He chuckled.
“I know you better than you think, Gennie.
I suspected you, but I know you're heart isn't in it.
Besides, I still owe you for helping Grant.”

“You don't owe me anything.”

“Then we'll say
it's
because I'm your friend.”

I ducked my head and mumbled
my
thanks.

Colonel Worthington
grinned, and the constant wariness that I always saw in his gaze seemed to lessen.
“Now that all is settled, I have the one thing guaranteed to cure anything.”
He pushed up from the chair,
grabbed
the crutch
,
and
moved
to the sideboard.
Something had been pushed to the back corner and covered with a checkered linen towel.

Grinning at us, he whipped the cover off, revealing a round cake glistening with thick, fluffy
,
white frosting.
My mouth watered.
The last time I'd had a sweet was my birthday.
Terry had swiped a ginger cake for me.
Another tear tracked down my face.
I didn't think anyone noticed.

Colonel Worthington
raised an eyebrow.
“
The cake is c
ourtesy of Miss Violet Parker, who has a crush on Phillip.”

Phillip turned a startling shade of pink and avoided my eyes.

Colonel Worthington
winked.
“
Think you ca
n manage to eat this one-handed?
”

I
managed a smile.
“Most definitely.”