The Hand Collector

by Marian Gray

  “I’ll open it tomorrow.” Uncle Hank’s fingers tapped on his knee.

  Aunt Margot shot him a severe look. “Oh, come on, you big chicken. You are driving all three of us up a wall. This is torture. Just read the blasted thing.”

  He shook his head. His salt-and-pepper hair whipped across his cheeks. “I can’t.” There was a whimper in his voice. “I don’t know what will do if...”

  “Survive.” Aunt Margo finished the sentence for him. “We’ll survive as we always have.”

  “Even if he says no, there must be others studying this, right? Dr. Raby’s not the only researcher in this world,” I said.

  “No, he’s the only one,” Aunt Margot said with a sigh. “You need a special government permit to study illegal matters. Being a flup is illegal nowadays.”

  Her words deflated me. “But I’m not a flup, just snuffed. Nobody is looking into that?”

  “No.” Uncle Hank shook his head. “For the longest time we believed being snuffed was a permanent state of being. It’s only through Dr. Raby’s work that we’ve heard that may no longer be true, but he hasn’t published his findings yet. I only know of his discoveries through my colleagues.”

  “Hank,” Aunt Margot growled. “Read the letter.”

  “I said I would read it tomorrow morning.”

  Aunt Margot smiled at him, light and innocent. “Will you hold my cup and saucer for me please?”

  He turned toward her to take them, and his robe billowed out a bit. Like a snake striking its prey, Aunt Margot’s hand shot out, dipping into his inside pocket. As she withdrew her hand, she clutched the pale yellow envelope between her fingers.

  “Margot!” Uncle Hank shrieked, hopping to his feet. The cup and saucer fell from his hands and spun around in circles near his slippers. “You give that back right now.”

  Margot shook her head. “This has gone on far long enough.”

  Uncle Hank held out his hand, demanding the letter. “That is my personal property, and you do not have permission to rifle through it.”

  “Why don’t you want anybody to read it?” Aunt Margot rose to her feet, meeting his challenge. “What? Are you afraid?”

  “Yes.” Uncle Hank’s voice broke, and tears welled in his eyes. “Yes, I am very afraid. I have never wanted anything more in my life right now, and I’m afraid that letter will ruin it all. At least permit me one more evening believing my grandniece is going to Blacksaw.”

  “Oh, Hank.” Aunt Margot threw her hands around the giant man. “You don’t need to be afraid, darling. We’re here for you. That’s what family is for.”

  “I know, but I didn’t want Zuri to see me like this.” He dabbed the sleeve of his rope across his eyes. “This isn’t what she needs right now. She needs strength, a pillar.”

  “What are you talking about? Zuri is stronger than the both of us combined” Aunt Margot teased as her eyes began to glisten as well. “Look at us, a pair of old buffoons, crying in our bathrobes as she sits quietly, observing.”

  The tears didn’t come not because I was stronger than the two of them, but because I was ignorant. They had a better understanding of what my future was going to be like than I did.

  “Can we please just open the letter?” I asked.

  They wrapped each other into a tight hug. “She’s right,” Aunt Margot whispered in his ear. “We need to open the letter.”

  Uncle Hank didn’t say anything, just cried a bit more on her shoulder. But when they withdrew from each other, he held out his hand, wanting the letter back. She placed it in his fingers without a fight, and Uncle Hank split the envelope open.

  He withdrew along sheet of cream paper, cleared his throat, and began to read. “Dear Henry Ebenmore, I hope you will not mind that I have chosen to write to your niece rather than your own home address. Due to recent unexpected acquaintances, I have reason to believe the party is reading and listening to all of my communications. As such, I have found contacting people through the undermen to be a much more productive and secure way of communicating.

  “Furthermore, I am greatly intrigued by your offer, but unfortunately time has my hands tied.” My chest tightened as a sob built. “I will not be able to meet with her this summer. However, my current residence is in Lilledoorn, and I am participating in a fellowship program at Blacksaw. I would be more than delighted to meet with Zuri there. Please have her reach out to me as soon as the school year begins. Thank you, Dr. Maxwell Raby.”

  The three of us stared at each other, unable to speak. Dr. Raby was going to remedy my hands.

  Chapter Twelve

  The seat was a rich plum velvet, clean and comfortable. I folded my hands in my lap with the envelope resting below as I stared out the tall gold window. Uncle Hank and Aunt Margot stood on the platform below, clutching to each other. Uncle Hank held his hand high and gave me another wave goodbye. I returned the wave. It was the fourth farewell since I had boarded the tram. I hated long goodbyes, but given that they had lingered there for fifteen minutes watching me, I had a feeling they weren’t going to leave until the tram did.

  My fingers tapped out a soft little unnamed tune along the envelope. There were two important pieces of paper in here. One was my official letter of acceptance that had got me out of a daunting interview with security—something all hands had to do if they wished to travel by tram. The form had done all the talking for me, literally. It stated my name, destination, and that I was sponsored by Blacksaw University and Chancellor Luella Day. The second item secured within my grip was the letter. Dr. Raby had never seen my face. I thought it wise to present it to him when I sought him out.

  The cry of the mahogany car door sliding along an old metal track filled my ears. I turned my ahead and peeked over the seats, eager to see which highborn student was about to enter when my jaw nearly fell into my lap.

  Idris glanced around the bourgeoisie decor, evaluating as he ran his fingers down the velvet curtains and gold embellishments. He didn’t even notice me tucked away in the middle row by the window. The sight of the car captivated him.

  “You are aware this car is for highborns only?” I teased.

  His head snapped to me. Tendrils of light blonde hair framed his square jaw. “Yes, highborns and party prized.” He pulled a small but thick piece of paper from his pocket and held it out to me. I was too far away to see, but I assumed it was a ticket.

  “Another reward for your bravery?”

  “My bravery? You’ve learned who I am.” He smirked as his face glowed with amusement. “Uncle and Auntie must have given you quite the scolding. It was rather inappropriate to have a lady speaking to commoner without a chaperone nearby. Although, I did get the sense that your aunt was rather keen on me. That was flattering.”

  “She has a thing for men that are easy to control.”

  Static white noise cut in before a voice boomed overhead. “Good afternoon ladies, gentlemen, and commoners. This is Conductor Neuhaus, and I will be the one in charge of ensuring our safe arrival to Lilledoorn today. If you would please board the tram, locate your seats, and tuck away any small luggage in the overhead bins, we will be leaving the station in five minutes. Dank u wel.”

  Idris sauntered down the red carpet aisle. Placing one foot in front of the other until he reached my semi-private section. “I have a feeling you’re the opposite—you like to be controlled.” He placed his maroon-colored backpack onto the open brass shelf and slid into a seat directly across from me.

  “I—uh…” I stumbled over my words as my eyes slid to my right, glancing at Uncle Hank and Aunt Margot. I didn’t know if they could see Idris from the platform, but the possibility terrified me.

  “What?” Idris tilted his head as he regarded me curiously until he caught my eyes and followed them out the large rectangular window. “They’re still waiting to see you off?” He turned in his seat. “That’s sweet. My parents did it my first year, and after that they just told my brother to look after me.” Idris lifted his hand a
nd waved.

  “No!” I panicked and grabbed his arm, yanking it downward. Heat bloomed where his palm met my bare thigh. He left it there for a moment too long before his fingers trailed along my skin as he sat upright. I wasn’t certain if it was him or the magic in his hands that stoked my heart into a race but I pretended as though I felt nothing.

  My head whipped to the side, and made eye-contact with a glaring Uncle Hank. Pink flared in his olive cheeks, and both hands rested on his hips. Aunt Margot was saying something to him in an attempt to cool his anger, but his focus was entirely on me.

  “That’s one thing I’ve never envied about the noblesse—there’s an entire social paradigm about who you can and can’t speak to.”

  “Yes, but it’s a flimsy rule. Otherwise the whitehand aristocrats wouldn’t speak to you.” I sank into my seat, no longer wanting to stare into the blue depths of the old man’s outrage.

  “So insulting.” He winked. “I’m a mischling, actually. Father is a commoner, and my mother is highborn—Godkin. I’m worthy enough for my own to speak to me.”

  I half-expected him to turn the question around and place the spotlight on my parents. It was an easy pressure point to exploit. But he didn’t. “Well, that’s such a relief. Wouldn’t want proper etiquette to be the end of the mass slaughter of blackhands.”

  “At least there’s something we can agree on.” His hands ran through his hair, pulling the blond strands into a messy bun.

  The mahogany tram door squealed out it displeasure as it was pulled aside. We both sat back in our seats, maximizing the space between our bodies. A man dressed in a gray uniform with a silver hem marched to us before he extended his arm. “Tickets or papers please.”

  Idris dug into the bag at his feet and withdrew his acceptance form along with the little ticket. The man took a quick glance at both and returned them. “Welcome back, Mr. Young. Hoping to see more great things from you this year.”

  “You and my father both,” Idris said, and they shared a little snicker.

  “And yours, miss?” I retrieved my acceptance form from the envelope in my lap and handed it to. His eyes ran across it and paused at the name at the bottom. Dark eyebrows shot to the base of his gray cap. “Lady Zuri Ebenmore. Well, I’ll be.” He returned my document. “A bit odd to find you two sitting together.” The ticket master scoffed his disapproval before turning and exiting the car.

  “That comment us unnecessary, no?” I asked Idris as I slipped my acceptance form back into the large pocket.

  “What is that?” He nodded toward the envelope in my lap.

  I paused, confused. “My acceptance form.”

  “No, that.” He nodded to the other sheet of paper. “Why is Maxwell Raby contacting you?”

  I tucked the letter beneath my university form, hiding it from his view. “It’s none of your business.”

  He leaned forward, enticed. “Is he wanting to study your mom? Or the family in general?”

  “As I said before, it’s none of your business.”

  He rubbed his bottom lip, trying to piece it all together. My eyes followed the movement, hypnotized. Second by second, inch by inch I melted, wallowing in my desperate curiosity to reach out for him. “If you were in contact with him, then why’d you lie to me and play dumb at the Burgundy Exchange?” he asked.

  The question pulled me out of the haze. I didn’t owe him the truth, but the way he receded from me at the notion of my dishonesty stung. “I didn’t know who he was then. I…” I wasn’t sure how much was too much to tell him. Some part of me trusted him, but the other screamed out in caution. Idris himself had declared us adversaries after all. “I only just received this the other day.”

  “What does he want?”

  I shook my head. “Why do you keep asking me that? You’re not entitled to know.”

  “Because he’s dangerous.” Concern marked his voice. “Maxwell Raby pushes the boundaries when it comes to his research. He’s known to forego ethics for the sake of his studies.”

  “Did you ever think that maybe he was just inviting me for luncheon at his place along with other respected blackhands?” I tried to steer him off his path.

  “No, I didn’t. It’s no secret that the Ebenmore line is diminishing, and as we both know, Raby specializes in this.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he asked, “You’re not snuffed are you?” There was no accusation or disgust behind his voice, but there wasn’t sympathy or tenderness either.

  “No.” I laughed, struggling to keep the nerves out of my voice. “Absolutely not! Why would you even think that?”

  “Your mother is a flup, a revered blackhand family is dying out, and you’re being contacted by Maxwell Raby. It lines up rather nicely.”

  I didn’t say anything. I had no defense because he was right. I hoped my silence would be enough to convey the topic was dead because my knotted tongue was useless.

  “You’re right.” He pulled back. “It is none of my business. Just, be careful with Raby.”

  He opened his mouth to speak once more, but his jaw floundered as our eyes locked. His expression softened, warming the cold jagged edges that originally marked his stare. There was a flicker of sapphire in his green gaze that lured me in. It was so inviting and enticing as though I could simply fall into him and he would catch me in his strong embrace.

  My body buzzed until I felt as though I were floating. My heart was heavy but my entire being was lighter than air. A sliver of me believed he had cast some spell over me, but that was impossible. I hadn’t seen him pull any essences. This was all him and all me.

  Just as I began to fall, he released me. He retreated back into himself, and that warm gaze was gone. I had to turn away to save face.

  Steam built around the outside of the tram, dusting the platform in a light mist. I heard something that sounded like a vacuum. I assumed that sound was from the jet engines, but a tram didn’t have jet engines.

  Uncle Hank and Aunt Margot were still on the platform. They took a step back from the growing cloud of steam. Both of their smiling faces beamed at me. As the tram began to crawl forward, they waved with unmistakable enthusiasm. I pushed Idris out of my mind and waved back, mimicking their excitement.

  Once we pulled out of the station, and I could no longer see the pair, the beginning of tears knocked at my eyes. All the emotions that had been sloshing around inside of me were begging to come out. But there was no time. The tram and its loosely linked cars flew down the track at an unbelievable speed. The force pressed against my chest, pinning me to my seat.

  We were going too fast.

  The car began clanking and whining under the stress. I held my breath, bracing myself. If we didn’t slow down, the tram was surely going to hop off the tracks and collide into itself. But we only gained.

  And then the pressure slipped from my chest to my head, making me feel lightheaded. I glanced out the gold window. The tram and its dangling cable cars were off the ground, ascending into the sky with each passing second.

  The trip to Lily Doran was rather quiet. Idris thumbed through his summer reading, and I kept to myself with a vice grip on the letter from Dr. Raby. The flight wasn’t very long, perhaps an hour at most before the conductor announced our touchdown. The tram returned to its metal rails with a bit of a jolt before sliding to a smooth stop.

  Lilledoorn was a quaint city along the lake, cut and dissected by Prussian blue canals. Homes and stores were stacked together with red brick and copper roofs that had oxidized into a stunning sea green color. White outlined the doors and windows, giving the city a lightness that was absent in Rotterpool.

  “May I walk with you to the university?” Idris asked as we stepped out onto the platform with our carry-on bags in hand.

  “Are you sure that’s wise? I am your archenemy. Wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea.” I teased.

  He shrugged. “We’re a few minutes from Blacksaw. The only trouble we’ll cause is a few broken hearts. I am the most s
ought after man in Lilledoorn.”

  “That’s quite a bold claim.”

  “It’s not bold if it’s true,” he said as he led us down the cobblestone path over to a small booth that was already lined with students.

  I laughed. “If you’re so sought after, then why are you still single?”

  He just didn’t say anything but stared at the students. I had been so concentrated on him, that I hadn’t noticed they had all stopped to watch us, whispering amongst themselves.

  “Who is that with him?” I heard someone a little ways up ask.

  “Do you recognize her?”

  “What year is she?”

  “Look at her hands. Is that a highborn design?”

  “Is she black or white?”

  Idris reached out and grabbed my hand and interlocked our fingers. With a confident tug, he lead me out of the line. “There is another line for highborn’s only. I think it best you stand there,” he whispered.

  The other line that he was referring to was empty. The attendant behind the counter looked half-asleep but perked up as soon as we neared, yawning and stretching his arms out wide. His shaggy brown hair stuck out at odd angles. “This line is for the noblesse,” he told us.

  “I know,” I answered.

  His brow lifted. “All right. Name?”

  “Ebenmore,” I whispered. The students were still watching us, drooling like a pack of hyenas about to feast.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t quite get that. Do you mind repeating your name?” He asked. “I just need to put it down in the ledger, since ferry tickets are free for the aristocracy.”

  That seemed a bit backwards given the disparity in wealth, but I didn’t challenge it. I just wanted out of the spotlight. “My name is Zuri Ebenmore.”

  Somebody gasped. “Did you hear what she said?”

  “What’s the name? Did anybody catch it?”

  “I think she said Ebenmore.”

  “No, that’s impossible.”

  “And yours?” The attendant turned to Idris.