Noir (22 page)

I take in a breath and snuggle as close to Urlick as I possibly can, trying to relax, but the baritone belch of the bog gurgles up my spine. All at once, I feel my lungs seize as if being gripped from the inside. I cough, trying to loosen them, but I can’t. I can’t stop coughing. Pain shoots through me like a spear, and I tense.

“What is it? What’s the matter? Why are you coughing so hard?” Urlick holds me out at arm’s length. He stares into my eyes.

I can’t answer. I can’t get my breath. The pain is too fierce, too deep. It has my tongue. The pain has been increasing every time. Growing worse with every session of coughing. It sticks hard between the ribs, harder than ever before. I look to Urlick, feeling panicked, trying to get my words out, but they’re jammed in my throat.

“Eyelet?” He holds me.

I gasp again, not exhaling, and he knows I’m in trouble. “Iris!” he screams, and she materializes instantly. “There’s a gas mask in the back of the caboose! Go get it!” Iris and Cordelia run.

“There are no Vapours here. This shouldn’t be happening,” I hear him say, though he sounds oddly distant. His face is rumpled. It starts to fade.

I want to shout to him,
It’s not the Vapours
. Or at least I don’t think so. Perhaps it is. Perhaps their effect has stayed with me; I did start coughing after I was exposed so long at the Core. But still, why would I be coughing here, now—and before, in the asylum, where there were no Vapours at all?

Blood rushes from my cheeks. My fingertips grow cold and numb. I feel as though my extremities are slowly disappearing. My thoughts jump to the idea I might be having an episode. But it’s not an episode. There’s no smell of toast. Besides, they’ve never affected my breathing before.

I try to work through other scenarios in my mind, but my thoughts grow thick and muddy.

“Eyelet?” Urlick’s features blur before me. “Eyelet, stay with me, please . . .”

He strokes my head, but I don’t feel his hand. He’s too far away.

Laying me back, he drops his mouth over mine, like he did before in the forest in the Vapours—but there are no Vapours here, are there? He forces air into my lungs, and they burn. I feel the push and then a sharp pain, and then fire, as though he’s lit a match inside of me. I will him to stop, smacking at his face, but I’m not sure I’m connecting. Something is wrong. Very wrong. It’s as if I’m floating away, leaving my own body.

Folding his hands over my chest, he pumps up and down, and I wince from the pain. I see him doing this, going through the motions, shouting words . . . but I cannot hear nor understand him. I’m leaving the ground. Hovering overtop of him, overtop of me. I fight to say something, but the words don’t come. I struggle, trying to lower myself back down in my skin, but I continue levitating.

I don’t fully understand how I can be here and yet there at the same time. I watch Urlick at work, desperate to revive me, feeling the rise of something cold in my veins. I think it’s the silver, then I realize it’s not silver at all, it’s something else, something strange and much more foreboding—a suffocating, intoxicating moroseness. It consumes me, drawing me higher and higher up into the trees, further and further away from Urlick.

Wait!
I yell at it.
I want to go back. I won’t go with you. I want to stay with him!

Urlick’s brows grow distraught. He dives forward, frantic with attempts to revive me on the ground.

Let go of me!
I shout at the sensation.
Let go of me, now!

I writhe and thrash, searching for my breath, struggling . . . and then all at once, I break loose and fall from the trees back into myself, sucking in a huge gulp of air.

I gag and sputter, anchoring back into my skin, and brace for an impact that never comes.

“Eyelet!” Urlick shrieks, pulling me to his chest. “Oh, Eyelet!”

I push away from him, wide-eyed, gasping, my flesh stinging as if it’s not my own.

“You have to stop doing this. My heart can’t take it.” His eyes are frantic.

“Nor mine.” I manage a smile.

He collapses over me, tears in his eyes. “Oh, Eyelet, I thought you’d decided to leave me for good this time.”

I stroke his face with my hands. “That’s just it, I did.”

“You what?” He draws back.

“But I demanded to come back to you, and it released me—”

“What did?” Urlick frowns.

“I don’t know. Whatever it was that took me. But it doesn’t matter anymore, because I’m here now, with you, and I’m never going away again.” I reach up, clinging to him, pulling him into the deepest hug I can manage. I tremble, hoping I’m right.

“The Vapours,” he says to Iris over my back. “They must be getting to her.”

“But there are no Vapours here, are there?” Cordelia says.

“Doesn’t matter.” Urlick’s breath heaves in and out. “They’ve done what they needed to do. Either that or—” He stops himself short and pushes me back, staring into my eyes. The look in his own is alarming. “Your father. The exposure—”

“It’s nothing.” I cut him off.

“It’s not nothing,” Urlick says firmly, and I follow his train of thought. To the journal, the entry about the ray and Father’s warning about its effects. About the serum my father left for me, and my need to drink it before . . . “It’s as your father warned. You need to drink what’s in that vial.”

“What vial?” Cordelia scowls.

My eyes flick to her and an equally worried-looking Iris. “It’ll be all right,” I say, knowing it’s a lie, knowing something is wrong,
very
wrong—never before have I felt so unwell, so unmoored. “I’ll just drink the vial and I’ll be fine—”

“No, you won’t.” Urlick cuts me short. He turns, pulling a trembling white hand through his hair. He scrambles to his feet and starts to pace.

“What do you mean?” I say, crawling to my knees.

He looks at me, an empty slate, as if his heart is dissolving. “I lost the vial,” he says, white-faced.

“You what?” I try not to gape.

“In the struggle with Smrt back at the Core.
I
-
i-i-it
fell”—he stammers and holds out his palms—“from my pocket as we struggled and rolled over the side of the . . .” His eyes dart left and right.

“The side of what, Urlick?” I say.

He swallows hard. “The escarpment.” He looks at me, fear and sadness for eyes. “I tried to grab it, but . . . it rolled over the edge and disappeared into Embers.”

I suck in a breath and grab for my heart, the weight of his words registering—my one true salvation, the only known sample of the cure, the one my father insisted I require, has been lost . . .
to Embers.

“I have to go back”—Urlick paces, hands clapped to his head—“I’ve got to find the cure.” His voice shoots up. Tears brim his lids. “I lost the one thing you need most in the world. I’ve got to go back and find it—”

“No,” I say, grabbing his arm, pulling myself to a stand. “
We
will go back and find it, together.”

Fo
rty

Flossie

“For the love of God, will you shut up!” I shout at the Infirmed, hands raised.

Their howling alone is enough to deafen the entire Commonwealth, voices ranging between freshly boiled lobster and skinned-alive bunny.

I undulate up to the side of the stagecoach carriage as the last of the Infirmed fall silent. They waggle in the air behind me, cool streams of white, wispy apparitions, silver faces gaunt and drawn, bobbling and twisting amid the dark, trolling cloud cover that smothers this part of the forest. The air around us is tinged with just a
hint
of deadly Vapours. A perfect addition to the scene.

I suck in a breath, unafraid. After all, I have nothing to fear any longer but the merciless drag of time. The state I’m in, not much else affects me.

The footman at the mount glances back at me over his shoulder, petrified. He snaps his head forward, gas mask on, back jerked straight. He mutters what sounds like a prayer beneath his breath. Poor soul, he thinks I’m after him.

“Don’t worry,” I whisper in his ear, levitating. “I won’t let them eat you. This time.” I grin, stripping the glove from my still-intact hand. I leave the other glove on. “Unless, of course, I don’t get what I’ve come for.” I spin around, facing the carriage. I laugh and my whole body short-circuits again, twitching and faltering from stem to stern. I need to get on with this, and I need to get on with this quick.

“Get out!” I say, lowering myself to the ground and flinging open the coach’s door. The bug-eyed beauty inside the carriage shriek-gasps. It’s really quite entertaining. The size of her gaze behind those unnaturally magnified lenses alone is a source of comedy. She must be blind as a bat.

She blubbers and moans like a child in need of her mother. “Oh, save it for later,” I say, hauling her out by the hair.

She shrieks and stumbles, eventually righting herself in a twisted-ankle circle, in a botched attempt to get away.

“Are you quite finished?” I stare. Just for fun I shake the bun in my hand that’s attached to her head, and she yowls like a wet cat. Something about her has the hairs on the back of my neck standing. It’s something about the eyes. Those vast wells of stone-grey, save for the glasses’ exaggeration, could be the very reflection of my own. Even her voice, though higher-pitched and more strained than mine, has a quality I find oddly comforting.

“Yes!” she screeches when I shake her again. “Yes! Yes! I’m finished!”

Her eyes fill with magnified tears. She swallows hard and clutches the crucifix at her chest.

“Do you promise not to run if I let you go? Not that running will do you any good at this point.” I motion to the ghouls in the trees, who swoop and laugh. One of the ghouls adds to the drama by dragging his bony finger across the back of the woman’s neck. The woman screeches and curls into me, her jaw a vibrating instrument.

“Yes, yes, I promise!” Her gaze darts left to right.

I flit a hand at the ghoul, and it backs away.

Slowly, I let go of the woman’s hair.

She hesitates, then attempts to bolt.
Fool that she is.
With
this
I seek a partnership?
Perhaps I’m the fool.
“Surround her,” I tell the Infirmed, and they drop from the trees. They form a tight circle around the woman and press in. “I see your promises are worth nothing,” I say. “Pity, really.” I examine my nail beds. “I had
so
hoped you could be spared.” I raise my hand, and Infirmed start yowling.

“Wait!” the woman shrieks. “You can! You can trust me!”

“Good,” I continue. “Because you know, at any time, I could just as easily eat you.” I examine my nail beds again. The Infirmed sniff.

“What do you want from me?” The woman recoils.

“Well, first of all, you can start by mending that tone of yours.” I drag a pointed fingernail under the woman’s chin, grazing it.

The woman shudders. What little fight left in her all but extinguished. She trembles, her already-bugging eyes jumping triple their magnified size. My father was right. There is nothing else like having ultimate power over another. The feeling is, in a word,
exhilarating.

I lean in closer, and her shaking increases. Blubber wobbles like pudding beneath her generous clothing. “I’ve come to make a deal,” I say in a low, commanding voice. “I wish to enter into a business agreement with you.”

“With me?” The woman looks up at me, astonished.

A twinge of Vapours passes through the trees. The woman gags and turns her face away.

“You see,” I continue, twisting her chin back to face me, “I have something you want. And you
have something I need. Thus, I’m here to propose a simple exchange of goods. Sounds simple, doesn’t it?” I grin.

The woman gulps heavily. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The
girl
,” I snap, jutting her way. “I want the
girl
!”

“What girl?” She shakes.

“The one you ordered your Brigsmen to search for, back there in the woods near the ravine.” My temper shortens.

“You heard that?” The woman’s eyes pop. “You heard what I was saying?”

“
Hell horses
,
woman, the whole forest did.” I lean back on my tentacles. “Shouting is not the way to go if you want to keep something a secret round here.”

Her gaze shifts side to side, as if stupid enough to be planning another escape
—foolhardy, nearsighted gulk that she is!
Vapours tickle her nose and she sneezes.

“So, that’s it, then.” Her voice totters, struggling to convey composure. “I give you the girl . . . and
you’ll let me go?”

“No,” I say. “I want the boy, too.”

“The boy?”

“Don’t play stupid.” I narrow my eyes. “I heard all that was said, remember.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” She nods her head. “The boy.” She gulps. “Certainly you can have the boy. There’s just one small problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m not exactly sure where he is.” She cowers.

“What are you talking about?” I bark. “I thought you
had
the boy. He was dragged away by your Brigsmen—I saw them.”

“
Had
is the operative word there.” She bites her nail.

“You mean to tell me, you stood back there cursing your
sister
in the woods, calling her a
dolt
for losing her inmate, when you yourself have lost your own?”

Her plump, jowly cheeks redden.

“What’s that called, again?” I wrinkle up an eye. “Pot calling the kettle black?”

“How dare you!” The woman snaps toward me. “You can’t talk to me like that! Do you know who I am?” It appears she’s taken leave of her senses for the moment. She’s forgotten that her head could be my lunch. “I mean—” Her eyes flash, a sign she’s suddenly remembered.

“Where is he?”
I scream, my voice blowing her clothes back.

She stumbles backward, blinking. “It appears he has bobbled away on the back of an elephant!” she offers, thrusting her hands up in front of her face in defence.

“An elephant?” I snort. How creative. “One would think it rather easy to spot an elephant in these woods,” I say.

“Yes, well . . . apparently
not
.” She glares at me sternly.

How like Urlick to concoct a grand-enough scheme to leave the authorities bamboozled and gobsmacked—oh, how I
love
that boy! “So”—I creep toward her—“you need my help more than ever, then, don’t you?”

She startles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her gaze drops to my hand, which is growing more and more translucent with every wasted second. I’ve only three and a half fingers left. I need to make this deal and fast.

“Tell you what,” I say, hiding my hand behind my back. “How’s about I’ll sweeten the pot a little.”

The woman’s brows furrow.

“What if I were to loan you, say, the services of my friends, over here.” I tip my head toward the swooping Infirmed. “I suspect your search could benefit from their observant eyes and ears above the forest, no? Who better to spot your runaway convict?”

I flicker again. My entire body short-circuits, fritzing in and out. The ends of my hair plume and fizzle, stinking like fricasseed skunk. Smoke chugs out of my ears.

The woman’s eyes bloom into two buckets of fright. She draws back as if she’s just been struck by voltage. I swear I see the panic thicken in her blood.

“Well”—I lean back on my tentacles, recovering—“what do you say? Do we have a deal, or not?” I can’t wait forever for this dolt to make up her mind. Clearly I’m running out of time.

Her gaze falls to the flashing light in the vial, concealed inside my corset between my breasts. Her wary brows rise. “Surely you don’t expect
me
to make a deal with
your
kind,” she says, “without some extra measure of assurance.”

Pause.

I glance down at the light, then back up into her face. I can’t believe this woman. A woman I could, at my whim, lunge out and infect—she thinks she can bargain with me. Another surge comes over my delicate circuit system, causing me to sputter and smoke. “How’s this for assurance?” I say, pulling the flashing green pendant out from its intimate hiding place.

The woman’s mouth falls agape. “Where did you get that?” She attempts to snatch the pendant from me but I swing it away.

“Does it really matter?” I tuck it back down between my breasts. “Now, are we negotiating, or aren’t we?” I lean her way.

“Fine.” She huffs, trying to appear invincible, swiping a rogue hair from her eyes. “What is it that you want?”

“The boy. Delivered to me.
Unharmed
.”

“But—”

I raise my hand. “Either that or the deal is off, and I turn you over to my friends for dinner.”

The woman looks over my shoulder and gulps. “All right, all right, is there anything else?”

“Yes.” I turn. “I want unfettered access to the Academy’s top medical laboratories, as well as their finest medicines—”

“But that’s impossible,” the woman guffaws. “You’re Infirmed. You can’t come into the city.”

I crawl toward her on spiked tentacles. “I can if you let me in.”

She recoils.

“Not only me, but all my colleagues here.” I flick my gaze toward the hovering Infirmed.

“But I can’t possibly—”

“You can and you will,” I snap. “Once we’re there, they’ll stand guard as the boy works on a cure for me—”

“A cure? But there’s no cure for—” I glower at her and she stops, gulping down her next thought. “Is that it, then, or is there more?” She winces.

“As a matter of fact, there is.” I smooth down my ruffled corset. “I want
your word
that once the boy cures me of my condition,
no one
will ever know that this has happened to me.”

“Of course—”

“Oh, and one more thing.” I drift intimidatingly closer, my breath hot at her neck. “Once the girl is found, I get to kill her.”

“You
what
?”

“You heard me!”

“But she—”

“Do we have a deal or
don’t we
?”

The woman falls back, shivering. The Infirmed around me hiss and moan and stretch their jaws.

“Very well, then.” She swallows. “The boy, access to the Academy’s laboratory, medicine, and my silence . . . as well as the chance to end the girl’s life. All that, in exchange for my freedom and the vial, is that correct?”

“And passage to wherever it is you think you’re going.”

Her eyes grow wider. “Whatever are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me, I overheard that part, too. Something about a sighting of Limpidious? I take it that’s what you meant, all that drivel about finding a stairway to Heaven.” I take out the vial and twirl it in my remaining fingers. “If it’s found, I’m on the voyage with you?”

“Very well. One ticket to the promised land—but passage only for you, not them.” She flicks her eyes contemptuously at the Infirmed.

“So we have a deal, then.” I extend my good hand for the shaking.

The woman waffles at the knees. “Yes. But I’ll need to interrogate the girl before she dies,” she says, muttering,
“Or we’ll never find our way to the new land.”

“Done,” I say.

Hesitantly, the woman reaches out and sticks her hand straight through mine.