Saint stared at him for a minute.
“… Hey, you know what’d be hilarious,” he said, looking away. “If I managed to start a fad of pretend-smoking those candy cigarettes, you know those? Now that would be some quality crowd manipulation. Get half the school chomping away at Space Man Candy Sticks like they’re ten-year-olds. Man, yeah. I am liking this plan.”
“I like this plan too,” Steff said quietly, and Saint busied himself in grinding out his cigarette, because apparently he had a habit to get rid of.
Fortunately it wasn’t too terribly long after that that he was introduced to Buffy and the wonders of a certain snarky bleached-blond vampire; shortly after that his sadly depleted image became strengthened by the addition of copious amounts of peroxide and a fantastically irritating endearment. Bite me, pet, he’d drawl – even with a horrible English accent the first few weeks, he shuddered looking back – and he’d crunch on a candy cigarette and grin disconcertingly, and then he’d go bother Steff, and his image of inexplicably stylish weirdness was upheld and he smoked not at all.
Or, well. He smoked less often. It was a hard habit to kick, apparently, and it helped so much with stress, sometimes, because when people were yelling he could just light up – but in any case. Less.
At least where Steff could see.
“Saint,” Noah was saying now. “Saint,” and Saint blinked and sat up.
He rubbed the heel of his palm sharply across his eyes.“Ugh. Sorry. I am really not awake today.”
“You’ve been doing very well,” Noah said. Saint blinked again. Noah smiled at him, and it was probably the remnants of Saint’s tiredness that made Noah’s smile seem all soft and fond.
“Uh,” Saint said uncertainly.
Noah stood up. “I didn’t mean to discomfort you. Just – I’m glad you’re alive.”
Saint stifled one last yawn and made himself stand up, as well. “I wish you were alive too,” he said.
Noah went out of focus for a moment, and then came back. He looked stunned. “I… ”
“If only so I could punch you in the face when you’re being a dick,” Saint added, because Noah looked a lot more overwhelmed than that statement really warranted.
Noah said, “You don’t even know who I was. I don’t… even know who I was, half the time. Saint, there’s barely anything left of me and I can’t, I, sometimes I change without even knowing about it and I don’t remember –”
His voice was going all frantic and pleading, so Saint held up a hand to forestall him.
“Shhh,” he said. “Hey. I know who you are now, and that’s what matters, right? Don’t let your past get to you. Right now you’re helping me save the world!” He flung out his arms. “And that’s amazing, all right? I mean, well, not the entire world, if we’re being accurate, maybe not all of New Zealand even, but by my count we’ve directly saved at least ten people from dire threat and who knows how many people the other monsters would’ve killed or tortured or worse if we hadn’t stopped them? Seriously.” He leaned forward, intent. “There are people alive in the world that wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you and me, pet, and that’s not nothing.”
Noah looked uncomfortable. Which – was way more endearing than Saint was willing to admit, Noah getting all squirmy and embarrassed just from this praise. “I… suppose that’s true.”
Saint hmmed at him thoughtfully. “Whatever your grand atua-killing plan is, we can’t do it yet, right?”
Noah sighed. “No. I can go scouting, at least; I should’ve done that days ago. I’ll try to find out where they hide – maybe identify their leader, if they have one. There has to be something. Atua are very much a product of their surroundings, and for these sorry displaced wretches to even be able to survive here they must’ve clung to somewhere or something.”
“Yeah yeah,” Saint said, “scouting, sure, but that can wait. I’m gonna get something to eat. And you can… watch me eat, I guess.”
Noah looked pleased. “Good! Good. Are you going to your friend for help?” he said, rather inexplicably. Saint must’ve looked confused, because Noah added, “The one who you texted a lot, before.”
Saint snorted. “Oh god no. I tried that. No.” He grinned, perkily. There was caffeine and fire mingling in his bloodstream, and he was the weird kid who did whatever he wanted to. “But I have a better idea.”
“Yeah?”
Saint flung out one arm. “Showering!” he declared.
Noah raised an eyebrow. “All… right then.”
“And then,” Saint said, happily, “victimless crime.”
Noah grinned. “I knew you’d think of something.”
The taniwha girl seemed willing to listen to her now, and Hinewai wanted to do this right. She took her to the hill that they called Mount Victoria nowadays, and they stood there, stood on the stony back of an ancient taniwha with the wind whipping around them. The sky was clouded over, the city a beautiful prospect all greyed over and dulled.
Hinewai said, “Long ago there were two taniwha called Ngake and Whātaitai, and they were trapped in a lake. Ngake grew restless, and charged at the wall of their prison, and broke through it, and swam into open sea; Whātaitai, left lonely, decided too late to follow him, but was stranded on the breach by the tides, and eventually turned to stone. Taniwha are both guardians and monstrous – What are you doing?”
Tony was standing at the railing, staring at the view. “Dang, you can see the whole city from here.”
“Here he lies all deep stone dreaming, where once his tortured soul fled screaming,” Hinewai said mysteriously, waiting for questions. Tony would of course be curious about the taniwha who had by tradition protected this place, as that was her duty now.
“Okay,” Tony said. “Oh, man – informational plaques!”
Hinewai sighed. “I am telling you because it is a story most people here know, and because it is about family. That is the theme of my own tale.”
Tony paused and looked at her, properly, finally. “Family… ” she said. “Okay, sorry, yeah. I’m listening.”
Tony was quite stupid, generally – wait, that was probably one of those remarks that was ‘offensive’, and she’d learned that she had to be careful to avoid those, even in her thoughts. She would be helpless in this world without her human-guide. Tony was ignorant about many things, but she understood the city. Things would go easier if she understood Hinewai as well.
“My name is Hinewai,” Hinewai said, because stories started with names, “woman of light rains.”
“Yupyup, you’ve said,” Tony said, looking at her expectantly. “That’s why it’s all drizzly when you’re around?” She flung out her hand at the cloudy sky.
“That’s beside the point. I am Hinewai, daughter of the sky. Have you ever heard of me?”
Tony grinned at her ferociously. “Not until you took over my mind, nope.”
Hinewai brightened. That was an actual smile, not like most of Tony’s stupid human grins. Real grins had more teeth in them, more sharpness, more threat. It was so very idiotic to grin like humans did, all happy and helpless. Almost as bad as laughing, which was another thing the girl did far too often, but this, this was a proper grin, baring teeth as a threat. She was learning. “Yes, few people have,” she said. “But you’ll have heard of my sister, Hinepūkohurangi.”
“I’m sorry I snapped at you –”
Hinewai blinked. “Why?” she said.
Tony sighed. “Never mind. Hinepūkowhatsherface.” She frowned. “I think Rangi did tell me that one. Woman of mists or something, right?”
“Yes,” said Hinewai, through gritted teeth. “Everyone has heard of her. She gets a whole story, after all. She got to fall in love with a mortal – you know how these stories are: an atua woman. A mortal man. She stays with him at night, but he cannot ever look at her in the light of day or she will have to leave him forever. The normal bargain.”
“Normal,” Tony echoed.
“Yes!” said Hin
ewai, pleased. Explaining her purpose shouldn’t have been any easier than the rest of their misunderstandings, but it was. They were connecting, perhaps! Becoming human friends. This was very nearly communication. “In any case. My sister got to have a mortal lover, and to get her heart broken; he betrayed her, naturally – they always do. And her tale has been told for many hundreds of years. And her lover later was turned into a rainbow so that he could be with her, and that story has been told for hundreds of years as well. Immortalised by the speaking of words, tales told of you for centuries – all atua are long of life but that’s the only way to be immortal, and she never even had to try!”
“Hin,” Tony said, “you’re killing that plaque. Calm down.”
Hinewai looked down. She’d dug her fingers into the stupid human thing so hard that the plastic coating it had shattered. She pulled her hand back, horrified with herself.
“Don’t freak out, I mean, vandalism is the least terrible thing you’ve done,” Tony said, and then added, “Sorry,” and then, “hey, calm down.” Hinewai was striding from side to side, working out her restlessness that way instead.
“It’s an atrocious habit,” Hinewai snarled. Destroying things was perfectly fine, but fidgeting without meaning to was not: it showed lack of control, and she was always controlled, always. She had that at least.
“What? Whai did that.”
“The ponaturi boy? He was insane, then. Broken by trying to be in this world. It doesn’t show most of the time, but there are ways to tell.” She nodded to herself. “Sometimes people seem sane but there is brokenness underneath. It is good he died, most likely; he would’ve killed you one day, unless you’d known to stay clear from any nets he made.” She paced on.
There was silence for a second. It was pleasant. Hinewai had always liked the sound of the rain. Perhaps Tony was enjoying the rain as well? Hinewai hoped so. She made it rain a little harder and looked at Tony expectantly.
Tony was staring at her with an expression that Hinewai didn’t understand. “You’re talking about someone I liked quite a lot,” Tony said, slow and careful. “Who died.”
Hinewai nodded. “Yes. He was insane.”
Tony abruptly started walking, away from the lookout, down the steps to the road. Hinewai stared after her, confused.
Perhaps she had been very fond of that plaque? Or her ugly jacket, perhaps the rain had ruined it. Yes, that was it – humans did have a tendency to get attached to useless things. Hinewai would buy her a new one.
Hinewai sat on the railing and looked out at the city. Tony came back eventually.
“Okay,” Tony said. “And you had better be really helpful when it comes to fighting Māui, just so you know.”
Hinewai raised an eyebrow, which was a human expression that she had grown fond of, as it was a lot more useful than most of them; it conveyed superiority, arrogance. She liked it. “I am strong and clever and skilled, and there is little I am afraid of aside from the things you know,” she said, and listed them: “Fire and full sunlight and the foul stink of cooked food, and not having a story, and not having you. Those last are more unpleasant to contemplate. I can brave even fire if it means I make my mark. So of course I’ll be of use. I’ll be invaluable.” She tossed her head, then frowned. “Is something amiss? You’re blushing.”
“Um,” Tony said, and she pushed her hair back from her face. “It’s… cold.”
“Ah.”
“So, right,” Tony said, speaking quickly, “your sister had this story blah de blah rainbows and stuff – what’s this all got to do with you?”
“Exactly,” Hinewai said eagerly. “It has nothing to do with me. She gets – story, she gets to live, and I? I, the woman-of-light-rain, the meek little sister – do you know what my role in this story was?”
“No,” Tony said, leaning forward curiously. “Tell me?”
Hinewai bared her teeth, remembering old wrongs. “To be lookout. That was all. To hover above the house and tell her of dawn’s approach, each day, until the day she did not heed me.”
Tony looked blank.
“That’s all,” Hinewai said. “That is all I got to do. For untold generations that is all people knew of me. I have not lived.”
Tony frowned. “So. This… this whole thing is because … Okay, let’s see if I’ve got this right. Big sister gets to star in this famous story, you’re annoyed that you only have a minor role, so …you hang around for a few hundred years and then eventually, when things are all modern and stuff, wander into a human city so you can fall instantly in love?”
Hinewai smiled fierce. “I want my own story,” she said.
“And… okay.” Tony scowled. “Wait, you seriously think that’s worth enslaving people’s minds for?”
“Well, of course,” said Hinewai, in some surprise. “It is important.”
“What makes your story more important than everyone else’s?”
“Nothing,” Hinewai said, starting to get annoyed now. Tony was mighty and fearsome and strong, but even that did nothing to combat her human upbringing, apparently. Her stupidity was bone-deep. “That’s why I need to fight for it. To hunt. To win.”
“Talking to you kinda makes my head hurt,” Tony said, and looked at her intently. “Promise me one thing.”
“Anything you like,” Hinewai said, too quickly. Stupid. Never let people have power over you, and most of all never let them know it.
“No more hurting people,” Tony said. “Except when you need to. And no more fucking around with people’s heads! No scary fae mind control! Okay? Promise me.”
That would… take away all her power, leave her helpless here in this wretched place…
Tony was staring at her intently, not pleading, not ordering. Asking, that was all.
“I swear it,” Hinewai said, before she could think better.
“Great,” Tony said, leaping to her feet as though her delight was too great for her to remain still. “Okay, we have some shopping to do, Hin. And then Māui-hunting! Both those things.” She beamed at her, broad and delighted and so stupidly weak. “Girls’ day out but hopefully with more terrible vengeaaance.”
And Hinewai tried to smile back all sickening sweet and humanish. She could do this. She could.
She had to.
Saint raided the Flatmate’s room. It reminded him uncomfortably of the scene in The Hobbit where Bilbo and the others found the trolls’ cave; full of riches, but stinking of death. He found money there, notes stuffed in drawers and behind the mirror, but it was blood money. Dead people’s money. He stuffed it in his pocket a little uncomfortably, and exited.
Noah had been examining the toaster, but he glanced at Saint and frowned. “Are you all right?”
Normally Saint would brush that off, but hell – they’d gotten pretty close these last few days. “Well, firstly, I just realised I’m a lot more of a geek than I ever let on,” he said, “not that that’s bad exactly, and secondly… ” He waved the wad of notes. “There was money in loose notes, some just in coins even, so I have this – overwhelming feeling that the maero took this from his victims. Which is kind of terrible. But there’s no personal items or IDs here or anything. I mean, of course he wouldn’t keep those, but – those girls he killed, they had families or friends or someone, and I have no way of contacting them to say what happened.” He grimaced. “It’s just… less than ideal.”
Noah patted above his shoulder. “There’s not much money,” he said. “It can’t have been too many people.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s true.” He brightened. “And it would’ve been more people, if not for me. I saved some.”
“That you did,” Noah said proudly.
“And now it is time to humbly accept my just reward, by which I mean a kebab, probably, I’m starving. That ought to be fairly fun for you to watch; there’s these, like, solid pillars of meat. Does it outright hurt you to be in sunlight?”
“No, no. It’s just… difficult. It’s easier with you there
to focus on, though.”
“Come on, then. Let’s saunter.”
They sauntered, chatting idly. Saint bought a kebab crammed full of lamb and salad and yogurt and finished it off faster than he’d been intending to, because Noah looked a little disconsolate.
“Not-living getting you down?” Saint asked as they left. A couple of people glanced at him. He frowned, then grinned and held up his hand next to his ear like he was talking on a phone. “Ha! Now it looks like we’re just regularly conversing. Seriously, though.”
“Of course it is,” Noah said, looking irritable. “You try being dead and see how you like it.” Then he looked stricken and held up his hands. “I didn’t mean that, please don’t think I meant –”
“Calm down, I know you didn’t.” Saint wiped his mouth with a serviette and tossed it into the nearest rubbish bin. He sauntered on, thoughtful. “That idea is not without its merits, though, I gotta say. We could be like, ghostbuds. Hanging out playing pranks on people. It’d be fun.”
“It’s not,” Noah said. “Nothing about this is fun.” He looked apologetic again. “I mean, you are, you’re fun, but… ” He pursed his lips. “It’s because you’re all of the things I’m not, I think. You’re… impulsive, bright – I don’t know. Just… very alive.”
They were making their way down Cuba Mall – so many good kebab places on Cuba Mall! – and there were lots of people about and maybe that was why Noah felt free enough to talk so openly about things that pained him, the evanescence and anonymity of this, other people talking in the background. “Can you possess people?” Saint asked.
Noah shot him a look of irritation mixed with hurt. “I told you,” he said, stiff and formal, “none of this is fun. Don’t make mock of me. I’m not some amusing poltergeist, I don’t pull tricks.” He nearly spat the word.
The ghost-bird thing was basically a trick, but Saint wasn’t about to say that. “So that’s a no?” he went on. “That ponaturi guy who knocked me out, he had, like – magical powers or something, yeah?” He talked rapidly, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. “Do you think someone like that might be able to make you a physical form? I mean an actual body would be ideal, but maybe some, I don’t know, golem or something. Or perhaps we could work on giving the form you do have more substance. Could you shape the wind into something more solid? Basically what I’m saying here is… ” he said, and he stopped walking. “There might not be any way to make you alive again – and we maybe don’t want to, yikes, that’s sort of a, a monkey’s paw situation if ever I’ve seen one – but are there any ways to at least make things better?”
The Wind City Page 17
