Curio (11 page)
The maid stood before her holding a cloth, two bottles, and a brush, ready to transform Grey into something the porcies found beautiful. She obeyed Nettie's gentle command to stand in the center of a thick circular rug before a gilded mirror so large it took up three-quarters of the wall space.
For a moment, Grey searched for signs of illness in her familiar reflection. She was pale, but some color remained in her cheeks. At least Fantine and Nettie had kept her well-hydrated. The other two women appeared in the mirror, standing on either side of her. Grey's eyes widened.
Nettie's head came only to Grey's shoulder. Even with her neat appearance and well-painted face, the tock faded, growing plain and shrunken in contrast to Fantine's splendor. The porcie stood an inch or two taller than Grey. Without her beaded high heels, Fantine would match Grey in height. Though by no means flawless, Grey's skin was smooth like Fantine's. Her hair bright and plentiful, unlike Nettie's twig-colored bun beneath her cap. Grey did indeed look more like a porcie than a tock.
She continued to gape at the mirror as Nettie and Fantine set to work. The tock brought a chair and prodded Grey to sit before applying her brush in efficient strokes. Fantine moved in and out of the mirror's boundaries, pausing to hold dresses close to Grey's face and debate their suitability with Nettie.
After what felt like hours, Grey's backside was stiff and her hair unrecognizable. She rubbed at her palm as Nettie pinned the last curl into a cluster on the back of her head.
“That's the hair all done.” Nettie bustled over to the vanity, depositing the tools she'd used for Grey's elaborate
hairstyle and retrieving a circular tray that she loaded with small pots, tubes, brushes, and applicators.
Grey sighed and dug her thumbnail into the pad of her left hand. She winced and flipped her hand over. A drop of blood welled from one of her scratches. Closer inspection revealed a thin, milky film covering each shallow cut. Glue.
A quick gasp on her right made Grey jump. She looked up to see Fantine hovering near and clenched her hand, but a moment too late. The porcie snatched her wrist. Grey stiffened at the woman's touch. But instead of the cold, glassy pressure she'd expected, Fantine's fingers were satiny smooth and warm. She pried Grey's fist open, examining the smear of blood.
Fantine dropped to her knees, still gripping Grey's wrist. Her glittering eyes hardened. “Such a beautiful color.”
Grey went cold. She shrank from the porcie's nearness.
Fantine raised Grey's hand closer to her own face. “Such strange cracks.” She pressed the tip of one butterfly-soft finger to the bleeding scrape on Grey's palm. “How does your jitter pump turn the water red?”
“I, um, I don't know.” Grey suppressed a shudder as the porcie dropped her injured hand and lifted her own blood-smeared finger up for examination.
Fantine's eyes narrowed onto the red tip of her finger. “So pretty,” she murmured. Her mouth opened. Fantine's finger hovered over her rosy lips for a second, and then darted, quick as a hummingbird, into her mouth.
Grey froze as the porcie's eyes closed then opened and focused on Grey's face. Nettie stood in Grey's peripheral vision, suspended in her task, her face stamped with horror.
But the porcie rose from her kneeling position, smoothing her bodice and setting her skirts right before starting for the wardrobe. “I think we'd best add gloves to tonight's ensemble, Nettie.”
Grey gulped a breath of air and lowered her gaze to her palm. The decadent room and the two strange creatures within it faded, and Grey stood once again before the unused curio cabinet in her grandfather's darkened shop. Haimon held her wrist much like Fantine had, showing Grey her own blood as though it were the answer to some question he knew and she didn't. Then he'd pressed her hand to the lock and everything changed.
The pink room crystallized in Grey's vision once again. Fantine and Nettie continued with their project of dressing Grey as though nothing had happened. But Grey replayed Haimon's actions and heard his urgent command. “Blood is the way in and the key out. Find him. Find him and bring him back.”
Find who? She glanced at Fantine and caught the shimmer of the woman's eyes like the sparkle of light on sequins.
Would
these creatures help her, even if they could?
N
ettie's hand snagged Grey's arm, tugging it loose from the clenched position Grey had adopted as she followed Fantine down a long, opulent gallery. She shot Nettie a “help me” look, but the tock nodded toward Fantine's rigid back, arranged her own mechanical body into a similar posture, and with a glare indicated Grey should do the same.
Sweat slicked Grey's palms, but she sucked in her stomach, left uncovered by the gray satin bodice of her gown, and took another wobbly step over the thick rug. Once Fantine discovered the delicate blue whorls circling Grey's belly button, she declared them “Beauty's Best” and redesigned a gown to display the “decoration.”
The porcie had winked as she arranged the gray silk in a simple wrap style ending just beneath Grey's ribcage. “The perfect color for you, am I right?”
She couldn't deny the metallic shade suited her skin tone far better than Mercury's required crimson, but it took all her patience to submit to the beauty routine when somewhere her father faced death and her grandfather might already be lost.
Beneath the close-fitting skirt, Grey's knees locked. She forced herself to take a breath. Fantine's head jerked at
the ragged sound, and Grey froze, her high heel sinking in the heavy pile of the carpet. She teetered, her ankle dipping toward the floor. Nettie shoved herself beneath Grey's arm and arrested her fall. Something white darted to Grey's cheeks, dabbed, and disappeared.
“No leaking,” Nettie whispered, pocketing the cloth.
“May we proceed?” Fantine's musical voice carried an edge.
“My heel caught on the carpet.”
Fantine smirked. “Good thing you didn't fall. You can't afford any more cracks, can you, my dear?” She lifted one long leg and twisted her foot, admiring her own beaded blue satin heel. She placed it carefully back on the floor and her hand glided up to cover her throat. “One risk worth taking, am I right?”
Grey didn't offer her thoughts on the subject of outlandish footwear. She busied herself with lifting her skirt and disengaging her shoe from the thickly woven burgundy rug. When they moved on, she resumed her role as the exotic porcie rescued from misfortune on the streets of Curio City.
Grey held her head up, ignoring the brush of the dress against her thighs and the tickle of air over skin she'd never exposed before. She'd do whatever it took to get back home. And if meeting this ridiculous Lord Blueboy got her a step closer to helping her father, then she'd smile for the pretty little thing and play the part until she figured out how to escape.
Fantine led them into another gallery, even finer than the one they'd left. Lush portraits of landscapes brimming with flowers and fruit trees almost hid the cream-and-gold papered walls. One painting in the corner behind a small circular table caught Grey's eye. She frowned at the squat vase and flowers in the picture. Hadn't Nettie brought an
exact replica to her room? The maid's eyes surveyed the painting as well.
Nettie whisked over to the corner, reached up and plunged her hands into the artwork. Grey muffled a gasp as the painted scene rippled around the maid's hands. Nettie pulled the vase and flowers from the portrait, but even as she placed the arrangement in the center of the elegant table, a reproduction appeared in the picture.
The tock met Grey's gaze, opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. Her brown eyes held the sparkle of their shared secret. Grey clamped her own lips and swiveled back to her porcie hostess. An explanation of the miraculous painting would have to wait.
Fantine walked to a waist-high railing that opened the upper portion of the house to a view of the grand foyer below. Grey followed, sliding her hand along the smooth surface of the wood rail just as Fantine did. But the porcelain woman's fingers clenched the handrail despite her casual movements. Once again, her white hand darted to her high collar, tugging the fabric as if ensuring it covered her neck.
Below them, a fountain dominated the entrance hall. Instead of elegant marble statues like those surrounding the Chemist tower, a gleaming apparatus crowned this water feature. A metallic version of a giant inverted snail shell funneled water up from a shallow pool and into a graceful arc that curved back over the sculpture. A sizzle whispered amidst the tumble of the rushing water, and steam rose from the wide basin. The humid air pasted Grey's curls to her neck.
She tore her gaze from the spectacle in time to see Fantine halt a good six feet from the wide staircase connecting the gallery to the foyer. Grey tottered toward the flight of stairs, her heels clicking on the polished wood floor.
Fantine stopped her. “No, no, dear. Only tocks and lower porcies use the stairs.”
Grey glanced around the room for Nettie. The maid had disappeared, but Grey hadn't seen her take the stairs. A tock in a plain suit now stood by a panel in the far wall.
Fantine waved a delicate hand in Grey's direction. “We'll take the lift. Over here.”
The tock shifted the panel in the wall aside to reveal a tall metal gate, which he opened as Fantine approached. Tendrils of steam seeped from the floor around the base of the cage.
Fantine relied on the tock for assistance as she stepped inside the enclosure, but Grey declined when the servant offered his hand. Dodging a ribbon of steam, she tested the elevator floor with one foot and then the other. The surface beneath her felt solid enough. She ducked all the way in and trailed her fingers over the padded blue satin interior walls.
“Lovely, aren't they?” Fantine rested against the decadent inner panel as the tock closed the gate. “BenedictâLord Blueboyâloves blue, as you might imagine. The north wing is mine to decorate, but most of the house, as you'll see, reflects his tastes.” She smoothed the shiny sapphire fabric of her gown and winked at Grey. “As do I.”
Grey looked away from the lurid spark in Fantine's eye and folded her arms over her naked midsection. When the porcie woman pressed a button, the elevator lurched into action. Grey whimpered as the motion rearranged her internal organs.
“Now don't be nervous, dear. Benedict is proud and exacting, yes, but he's taken an interest in you. He feels sorry for you.” Fantine handed Grey a pair of long white gloves. “Wear these and none of your cracks will be visible. You've no reason to be ashamed.”
Cover the scratches on her hands but leave her mark visible to everyone? Grey pulled the gloves on and almost wished for her stiff school uniform with its line of buttons from throat to waist.
The ride down was a chugging, jerky experience. Fantine braced herself in the corner with each shoulder pressed into the soft elevator lining. She clenched the handrail affixed to the wall.
Grey grasped the bar for balance but otherwise stood tall. Her limbs were weak and her head light, but she wasn't afraid of breaking like Fantine. Not here in this bizarre land of extravagant beauty or at home under the grip of the Chemists. What more could they take from her? The rock-like sensation flickered behind her belly button, and Grey dropped her hand from the railing.
The elevator jolted to a stop, but Grey kept her footing in the center of the padded cage, standing with head high and shoulders back as though she owned the mansion. Fantine stepped away from the wall, her eyes narrow and gleaming. The outer panel slid away and another tock opened the metal gate, but before Grey could move, Fantine snagged her arm, detaining her in the lavish cell. “You're a bit careless with yourself, aren't you, Miss Grey? I know there are some in our city who find risk-taking admirable, even attractive.” Her voice hardened. “I assure you Lord Blueboy is not one of them. He scorns the Valor Society.” The porcie's gaze whisked over Grey. “If you're here to make some kind of point, to flout the Designer with your recklessness, Benedict will see you punished.”
Valor Society? Recklessness? All this because she hadn't clung to the rail on their ride down? Grey lowered her lids in case her boldness showed in her eyes. “I did not intend to flout anything, I assure you.”
Her hostess ignored the protest and advanced. “You do not want to anger Benedict. Don't think that he won't send a porcie to Lower. He's done it before.” She shuddered and a bit of her delicate persona returned. “All those exposed pipes and machines. The mindless tocks. You'd be cracked in half before the day was out.”
Grey's chin tilted up, but she bit back her response. Whatever Fantine meant by “Lower,” it didn't sound like a place that would get her closer to home. And until she knew more about Curio City and its inhabitants, she couldn't afford to reveal too much about who and what she really was.
