Curio
Also by Evangeline Denmark
Mark of Blood and Alchemy: The Prequel to
Curio
BLINK
Curio
Copyright © 2015 by Evangeline Denmark
Requests for information should be addressed to:
Blink,
3900 Sparks Dr. SE, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546
ePub Edition © January 2016: ISBN 978-0-310-72936-5
Any Internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers in this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement by the publisher, nor does the publisher vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the life of this book.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâelectronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any otherâexcept for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
Blink is a registered trademark of The Zondervan Corporation.
Cover design and photography: Kirk DouPonce
Interior design: Denise Froehlich
15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 /DCI/ 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
D
EDICATION
For Kory. Thank you for joining my worlds.
CONTENTS
T
he Chemist came just before closing. Granddad shot Grey a warning look as he hurried to the front of the store. Time to make herself unnoticeable. As if that were possible.
She returned to her work, swiping a cloth over the filmy glass of a curio cabinet shoved against the back wall. A layer of grime coated the inside, but Granddad never opened it for a thorough washing out, and neither did Grey. As she rubbed the surface, she squinted to make out the shapes within. Movement flickered inside the case. She bent closer.
It must've been a shadow.
An odd quiet stretched through Haward's Mercantile. Heat shot through the fabric of Grey's blouse and her skin prickled. The newcomer had spotted her. Surely she didn't stand out so much this close to Four Points. All manner of people walked the streets of downtown Mercury City, and more new and exotic folks stepped off the train every morning.
“Your granddaughter, Olan?” The Chemist's voice wrapped around Grey, compelling her to face the man. Late afternoon shadows cloaked his featuresâall but the pale green flash of his teeth. The face beneath the top hat fixed on her.
“Grey, best to get on home.” Granddad moved to stand between her and the black-garbed man.
Maybe the man simply had business with Granddad. After all, Chemist Council equipment in various stages of repair lined one entire wall of the store. Some of the devices ticked, chimed, or emitted occasional puffs of smoke, though she was most anxious to be rid of the instruments that glowed green. But the stranger near the door ignored the machinery and stepped closer to Granddad.
The air zinged with currents that set Grey's teeth on edge.
Chemia.
And something more than the green magicâanimosity. She stiffened, her lower spine pressing into the waist-high cabinet behind her. Grey reached back and grasped the cold metal edge with both hands. Her feet wouldn't budge.
“Go on now.” Granddad glanced over his burly shoulder, the crease between his eyebrows the only mark of concern on his unlined face. “Curfew's coming.”
Grey pried her fingers from the curio case and ducked into the back room. Haimon hovered like a ghost a few steps from the cutout doorway. She stifled a squeak and shifted her gaze away from Haimon's scars. “Is he here for an orderâthe Chemist?”
Granddad's assistant shuffled to the doorway, moved the curtain, and peered into the front of the shop. “No, not Adante.”
“But Granddad's done nothing wrong. At least nothing
they
know of, right?” She searched the small room. The table and rug concealing the trapdoor were perfectly in place, though Haimon had no doubt crept up from the laboratory moments ago.
An instant too slowly, Haimon hid a wary expression. “All's well. You'd best get on home before the last boom.”
Grey peeked through the door one more time. Granddad stood in his shirtsleeves and leather apron, a giant amongst the rows of shelves and tables loaded with knick-knacks,
foodstuffs, appliances, and mining equipment. He didn't need protection from a sixteen-year-old girl no matter how her instincts screamed
stay
.
“Grey.”
She started and twisted to face Haimon.
He tilted his steely head toward the Chemist. “Adante's nothing your granddad and I can't handle. Now go.”
A blast echoed down the hills and carried through the city, rattling windows and displacing dust. End of the day shift. She had just over twenty minutes to get home before the deputies swept the streets for curfew breakers.
Grey grabbed her coat from the hook on the wall and struggled into the tight garment. As if the crimson wool didn't call enough attention to her statuesque frame, the fitted bodice emphasized the reason for the color requirement. Female. Untouchable. She fumbled the frog closures over her full chest and dashed out the back door.
Another blast sounded from the hills above Mercury City as Grey darted up the alley, slipped down a gravel path between storefronts, and emerged onto the Colfax Street walkway.
When her boots hit pavement she slowed her stride and checked her surroundings.
Two men five paces ahead on the sidewalk. A group of miners a ways behind. A draulie clanking up the middle of the street. The light from the hydraulic miner's headlamp glinted off his metal suit and the water cannon attached to one arm. Horses shied away from the draulie's heavy tread, and coach drivers and a lone motorist maneuvered out of his path.
Grey shivered as a bitter wind accompanied the next echo down from the mountains. With her arms clamped against her sides, she sped up and called in warning, “Excuse me.”
The men in front of her looked around then stepped away, cramming their hands into their coat pockets. Neither
met her eyes or gave any indication that her height and frame were unusual. She sighed her relief and rushed by. Outsiders. From the slums of New York maybe. Or Chicago. Crowded cities where immigrants and tenement dwellers believed the propaganda about the gleaming town in the West. Mercury City, Colorado, where property, provisions, medicine, even education for your children could be had in exchange for honest labor in a Chemist mine. They stepped off the train wanting to work and willing to keep Mercury's strange laws if it meant a chance for a different life. And that's what they got, all right.
By the time Grey reached the corner of Colfax Street and Reinbar Avenue, her breath puffed in quick clouds. She stopped and drew in a mouthful of air that burned as it reached her lungs. White steam shrouded the Foothills Quarter Station a few blocks to the north. A mass of dark figures emerged from the vapor, jostling each other in their hurry to get home. One by one they slowed until each miner became a distinct shape. And each one turned his head from side to side, checking alleys and side streets for deputies.
Grey turned south on Reinbar and walked quickly, the long hem of her coat flapping against her stocking-covered calves. Her knee pants didn't keep her legs warm, but at least they allowed for unencumbered movement. From the back she must look like a red column bobbing along the business district.
Another boom jarred her bones just as a miner passed on her right, giving her a wide berth. She snagged her pocket watch and pressed the catch. The fist-shaped cover sprang open, revealing ten minutes until curfew. She could cut five minutes off if she took the alley behind the ration dispensary, but that meant crossing the street ahead of a crowd of weary workers.
The train whistle made up her mind for her. The deputies would start their rounds only minutes after the last car pulled away from the station. She stepped off the curb, one eye on the returning miners and one on her destination across the street.
“Whoa.” The miner nearest her flung his arm to the side as if he could hold back the procession. Heads jerked up and murmurs traveled through the crowd.
“I'm sorry.” Grey met the marbled blue eyes set deep in a grime-covered face. Blue eyes? Nobody in Foothills Quarter had blue eyes, besides her family and her neighbor. “Whit?”
He frowned and flicked a glance the way she'd come. “Where's your granddad?”
A shout of “Oy! Let's move!” carried from the rear of the company.
“Held up at the shop,” Grey muttered. “Chemist.”
“So late?” Whit grimaced. With dirt lining the creases of his face, he looked much older than his eighteen years. He smoothed his expression. “Don't worry. Olan's more mountain than man. He'll be fine.”
Grey nodded and darted for the other side of the street amidst the grumbling of the shift workers. As soon as she reached the sidewalk, the throng moved on, their measured steps growing faster as dusk and the threat of deputies stalked behind them.
The sound of boots followed her toward the brick-lined alley connecting Reinbar to the Pewter Street hill and the outskirts of town. She folded her arms, shrinking as much as her stature would allow.
