Twig

by wildbow

  He took a step back, before falling into his chair. He leaned back, reached for a box of cigarettes, and popped one into his mouth, lighting it with a match. “Expensive.”

  I nodded.

  “Give him the discount, Marv,” the madam said. I was a little startled that she’d lingered, waiting in the stairwell. I looked back at her, and I saw that her whole demeanor had changed.

  “Even with the discount,” Marv said. “Five hundred bucks? I’d have to buy the eyes and muscle, which is the only reason it’s—”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “Five hundred, then. If you find the work on her is more comprehensive than I’m describing it, let me know. I’ll pay the added costs. And if you honestly don’t think you can do the job, because it might be a real horror show, once you get beneath the skin and take a look at her, then let me know. I’ll pay you what I would for finishing the job and find someone who’ll do it properly. I just want her looked after.”

  Behind me, the Madam gently shut the door.

  “Alright,” Marv said. “She likes you, it seems.”

  “I’m giving her horrendous amounts of money to like me,” I said.

  “Isn’t that the nature of the job?” Marv asked, smirking. His expression sobered, “No, it’s beyond that.”

  “I don’t suppose I could ask how old she really is, huh?” I asked.

  Marv busted out a laugh, almost losing his cigarette. “No you cannot, kid. No, no. I want to keep my accommodations here. But I’ll let you in on a little secret, as a testament to my abilities. That face of hers? My work. She came to me stunning, statuesque. One of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen who’d never had a lick of work done on her. She asked to go under my knife, after she’d seen me patch up a pair of her faggos who’d gotten beat.”

  I frowned, glancing toward the door. I could put the pieces together. She’d gone from gorgeous to cute, from exactly what Tynewear was looking for in glamour and flash to the girl next door. Why? Perhaps to draw in a clientele on a level beyond the obvious. Someone who could win over their hearts, not just their nethers, and get them coming back again and again.

  “And I don’t get the feeling I have to even explain it to you,” Marv said, adding another puff of smoke to the room’s faint haze, “Which makes me like you. Sit down on my bed. Let’s get a look at the damage, there.”

  ☙

  The sun was threatening to rise, but I malingered. A false eye in place, the damage and swelling taken care of to the extent that it wouldn’t draw attention. In much the same fashion, an ear had been tacked on the side of my head, partially hidden beneath a cap and my hair. I had the second payment for her and the first payment for the doctor, but I made my way down the street in the complete opposite direction from the Madam’s house. I’d broken into a store to ‘borrow’ a change of clothes that let me blend in among the well-to-do, with a wool jacket and scarf and black slacks with shined boots. I was indistinguishable from the dozens who were just leaving their homes and heading to their places of business.

  I found myself in one neighborhood that sat at one hill, by two of the theater buildings. The sun came shining down between the buildings and lit up the hill. Water features and the glass exterior of some buildings helped to illuminate the area. I was staying too long, wandering, searching. I checked outdoor tables, brushing away snow with a gloved hand, as well as doorframes and wagons that had been parked.

  It was too early, I knew, but I was still willing to risk the madam’s ire just to check. I heaved out a sigh and started on my way back. Pushed all the way to the back of my mind was darkness, loss, anger, and loneliness, but the cloud seemed to grow, and I was running out of space to push it all away.

  One night to travel to Warrick. We’d spent the first day getting ourselves prepared, acquiring Simon and the other Doctors, and we’d given them one night to prepare the dose of Wyvern, the gas, and the coverings needed to turn Simon into a Firstborn. Dealing with the Twin and the Baron had taken the following day. Traveling to Tynewear had taken a night and day.

  This would be the fourth day since I’d left the Academy. Mary would be back or heading back, if I had to guess. By the end of the day, everyone that mattered would know for a fact that I was gone.

  I found a seat on an outdoor table, sitting on the snow with my coat serving as a barrier between the ass of my pants and the wet snow. I exhaled slowly, letting the breath fog in the cold air.

  My hands shook. It felt like it had been days since I was able to regulate my breathing and be calm. My entire body felt like a house that had been shaken by so many quakes that the nails were working their way free.

  I had to put on a brave face for Chance, Lainie and Candida. I’d shaken them enough by shooting Mary. Letting my emotions show again might scare them off completely.

  I managed to will my hands to be still. Step by step, from my eyebrows to my feet, I worked out how to get my body to suggest calm and confidence. Making the effort cost me a little something in that it added something to that growing storm in my breast and the back of my mind, but it was important.

  I climbed down from the table and started on my way to the house, joined by my imagined Lambs. Just before the area was out of sight, I glanced back over my shoulder, double checking.

  ☙

  I placed a cigar box on Marv’s desk.

  “I’m more of a cigarette man,” Marv said. “And I’m particular in my tastes.”

  “I thought you’d say that,” I said. I reached into a pocket and produced a carton of his favored kind. “Here.”

  He smiled wide. He’d done away with the bathrobe, now that it was daytime, and wore a sweater that accentuated how skinny he was. “So what’s in the box?”

  I gestured toward it.

  He popped it open, then frowned as he gazed at packed snow. He gave me a look, then started pushing the snow aside. He jumped a little as he found the treasure buried within.

  “Do I want to know who you harvested these from?”

  “If you’re asking because of conscience,” I said. “Then I’ll just say that the person that I got these from… well, if and when news gets around that he went and misplaced his eyes, nobody’s going to feel sorry for him. I think he even has a few enemies who’ll go after other, more vital pieces of him.”

  “Ah,” Marv said.

  “Will they—”

  “You even included the retina! And some of the optic nerve! I should hire you on an ongoing basis!”

  “Will they work?” I asked.

  “Hm? What? Oh, for the girl downstairs? They’ll do. I’ll need to soak them in a solution, and clear away any chance of post-transplant rejection, but they’ll do. Give it a day.”

  “I’ll be gone before then,” I said. “But I’ll let her know as I go out.”

  “Leaving again, so soon?” he asked.

  “Trying to stay busy,” I said. “I might lose my mind if I stay still.”

  “Sure,” Marv said. “Hey, listen, Donna from downstairs went out for a walk, I told her to drop in and talk to a friend of mine? About what you asked about, the studying drug.”

  Wyvern.

  “Most places, they make it in the Academies and parcel it out on a controlled basis. The recipe is mostly limited to people at the professor tier, the elite, maybe some Academy graduates. Students like me? My friends who got their know-how by back channels? It’s not very likely. I can keep asking, though.”

  “Thanks,” I said, then with very little hope of results, added, “Please do.”

  ☙

  “Black scales,” I said, pointing at body parts to indicate roughly where. “Narrow build, quick? He would have been looking for work with a lot of climbing, like on the ship hulls? He might even know some Academy medicine.”

  Of the three people who I was addressing, two shook their heads. I glanced at the third, studying him, searching for the reason he hesitated.

  He’d seen Drake.

  “You’ve seen him,”
I said.

  “Is he in trouble?” the third man asked, effectively confirming my statement. “Or is he trouble?”

  “He’s not trouble. He’s a good guy, as far as I can tell, and judging by the look on your face, you probably feel the same way,” I said. “As for any worries about this being trouble… tell him it’s regarding Candy. Let him decide.”

  “Candy?” the first of the men asked. “This is about, ah, the sort you wouldn’t want people to know you were selling?”

  “No,” I said. “Not drugs. Just tell him. If he’s here, he’ll be interested. I’ll loop back around this way…”

  I judged the distance. About an hour to walk across the city. About an hour to walk back.

  “In two hours and thirty minutes,” I said.

  “Alright,” he said. “We’ll see, then.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  I glanced up at the cloud-obscured sun, judging it early afternoon, as I started on my third trip to the theater district for the day.

  “I think,” Evette said, as she joined me for the walk, “That you should have postponed getting the eyes for Candida until later in the day. You look like you could stand to burn off some nervous energy with some exercise and aggression.”

  I silently agreed.

  “Feel up to getting some muscle tissue?” she asked, with a grin.

  “No,” I spoke aloud, because I needed to let the phantoms feel a little bit more real. “Just some shopping, for now.”

  “Yay!” Helen said.

  ☙

  Candida’s new eyes were working well enough for her to see, it seemed, judging by how her expression transformed.

  Her movements, however, were still hobbled, slightly, as she ran toward Drake, who stepped down from the carriage. Her prince, except in her inverted fairy tale, her prince was the black scaled dragon. Drake wrapped his arms around her, picking her up off the ground.

  The two of them almost immediately started talking so fast their words ran over each other. I saw Candida laugh, even as tears erupted around her new eyes. She hugged him again.

  “Do not cry!” Marv lectured her. “Hey!”

  I couldn’t even look at the scene. My hands were shaking and I couldn’t even will them to stop. I was happy and sad and angry and jealous all at once, and it might never have happened if I hadn’t taken the extra steps, so all of the bad feelings were hypocritical feelings too.

  Chance and Lainie retreated from the scene. It was so personal and happy, and they lacked both the personal connection and the ability to expose themselves to that joy when their own loss was so new and raw.

  Candida was just sobbing now, her arms around Drake. All of the fears and pain of the past week finally seeing release. She was safe, and in his arms, she was home.

  “Chance,” I said.

  He seemed almost relieved to have an excuse to focus on something else.

  I reached over to the seat next to me, and passed him a case of luggage.

  “My best guess, for your fit. There weren’t many options for dressing as a member of the lower class, so be careful if you decide to stay with Drake and Candida, wearing outfits like these will make you stand out. There’s a wallet in there, but it’s only got enough to last you a few weeks, maybe, depending on how thin you stretch it. If you try to maintain a higher station in life, that money will run out, and you’ll have a hard time earning a living without drawing attention or running into someone you might know. I really recommend staying with them. They’ll find you work, help you figure things out.”

  “At least for a while,” Chance said.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  He looked vaguely displeased, but he nodded.

  “Lainie. Same idea,” I said. I handed down the last case of luggage that wasn’t my own.

  She nodded. She still looked devastated.

  That, at least, I understood.

  “You’re leaving?” Chance asked.

  “I might stay in town just for a few weeks. Get my bearings, ask some questions and see where I’m going next,” I said.

  Chance nodded.

  “Can I ask—” Lainie started. “No. It’s a stupid question.”

  She seemed conflicted.

  “What?”

  “What did I do wrong?” she asked me.

  I exhaled.

  “What did I do to deserve this?” she asked. Now almost pleading.

  You didn’t run when I said we needed to run, I thought. You tacitly played along with the Baron’s game and toyed with the people of Warrick you thought were fair game.

  “Sometimes things are unfair,” I said. “It’s not an answer, I know.”

  She looked deeply unhappy as she took that in. Chance put an arm around her.

  “Is this goodbye?” Chance asked.

  “No,” I said. “I expect we’ll cross paths again. I’ll be around, and I’ll be looking to keep an eye on Candida. There’s a dim chance her parents might go looking for her, or her ties to the Baron might mean having enemies. I don’t think it’s a problem in the short-term, but… I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  Chance looked like he was going to ask a question, then dropped it. I could imagine a half dozen possible questions he might have asked. He wanted resolution, but this situation wasn’t that. I was a puzzle in his mind, and he wanted a tidy answer to it.

  Why would you show us so much concern when you showed so little to your friend, who you shot? Who are you? What are you doing next? Whatever the question was, I doubted I had a neat answer to it.

  “Be nice to girls, Chance,” I told him.

  He looked vaguely offended at that, and then he nodded.

  I got the attention of the driver of the rented carriage, who’d stepped away to look after his stitched horse, and indicated the direction of the theater.

  I looked skywards. It was evening.

  ☙

  Dusk became night. Snow fell, and the city was once again lit up by mingled soft blues and ethereal yellow lights. As the wind changed direction, passing over the water, it also dropped several degrees in temperature. I sat on the same table I’d chosen earlier, and I propped up my luggage beside me, to partially block that cold wind.

  At what point did I give up? When did I say enough was enough and let myself stop hoping?

  Instinctively, I knew the answer. How slim the chances were.

  On the day I’d left with Mary, I’d left Jamie a note. Four days. I gave myself three to deal with the Baron and one to travel. I’d told Jamie to talk to the other Lambs, to explain. I hadn’t spelled it out entirely or clearly, suggesting that I was leaving and Mary was giving chase, while including enough false details that he would know that I was mucking with the truth and that he should be reading between the lines.

  In very clear terms, I’d told him that I was leaving, that I couldn’t come back, and why. In increasingly roundabout ways, I’d asked him to send Helen to look after Lillian, to explain that Mary had run off to chase me, and to forge a note in Mary’s handwriting saying that she’d gotten on a train in pursuit of me, but she wasn’t sure where it was going. I’d also asked him to talk to the Lambs individually, so that they knew. If they wanted to come with me, then they could meet me at the brightest spot of Tynewear, except I hadn’t named Tynewear exactly. I’d only referenced the city that Drake and Candida had been going to retreat to.

  Jamie would, if nothing else, do what the old Jamie had asked him to do, and help me. He would give me this, and let them make the choice.

  I hoped.

  Didn’t I hope? Or was it better to think that he’d betrayed me and torn up the note, but that Helen would come with me? Or that Lillian would realize what was happening and get on a train?

  Had the note been intercepted? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, and my efforts to obscure and obfuscate wouldn’t wholly clear the Lambs of blame. People would wonder. They would look for the codes and the meta-messages.

  I’d spent a full night and d
ay working on behalf of Candida, Chance, and Lainie. In a way, it was the last tie I had to the Lambs, my promise to Lillian. Now I had nothing to occupy myself with but this. I could come up with reasons and excuses, dream up possibilities, and try to avoid the cold, honest reality.

  Lillian was tethered to the Academy by her dream. She was an Academy student at heart. Mary was tethered to Lillian. Helen and Jamie and Ashton couldn’t leave the Academy for any substantial lengths of time without degrading and breaking down.

  No, as much as I tried to convince myself of conspiracy, I had to face the uglier truth. Much as I’d made the hard choice to leave them because I could no longer stay, they were making the choice to stay.

  Without the passage of the sun in the sky to mark time, I could only judge by the traffic of people. The shops closed, and only the drinking establishments and restaurants lingered. Then those places, too, closed. People went home. Employees cleaned up, and the lights went out. A few people stared at me.

  I judged it to be close to midnight. I imagined the hands of the clock, vivid in my imagination, and saw them sweep past the twelve o’clock mark.

  Day four had come and went.

  No Lambs had made the trip, to find their way close to the theaters.

  I drew in a shuddering breath.

  “Alone,” I whispered under my breath.

  My memory was weak, but I could remember the time I’d run away before. Was this really so different from that? I had no Wyvern, but I could figure out a way to get some. Probably.

  But having no Lambs? There was no hope for an easy replacement there.

  I had taken Wyvern so I could mold my mind, and I had molded myself to work alongside them, to fill in the gaps.

  Now, without them to help give me shape, I already felt less like myself. I wasn’t sure what direction I’d go.

  I could find Fray, but… the idea spooked me. I would adapt to her. I’d be nothing more than her lackey.

  Mauer? That was somehow worse.

  I hunkered down a little, shivering. The dark storm of thoughts I’d pushed to the back of my mind had now expanded out to the forefront of it. There weren’t any people out there that I respected and trusted in the way I’d need to trust them. I could believe that Fray would keep to her word, and suspected the same of Mauer, but I couldn’t trust them to refrain from abusing me, when I was vulnerable and fluid.