Crap. Ash continued to beat his wings. Gingerly pushing a cylinder aside, he carefully lifted another off the girl’s booted leg. He plucked her out without slicing off any limbs.
A sickening crack sounded overhead. Reacting on instinct, he tossed his wings higher, forming a canopy over them in case the ceiling came down on top of them both.
He braced himself to be crushed, but the ceiling above him stayed intact. Ash took a tentative peek out.
Fallen supports blocked the only exit. Damn it. He could force his way through, but the girl in his arms might be seriously injured in the process. He looked down, reassured to see her chest moving.
That wouldn’t be the case for long if he didn’t get them out of here. Scanning the floor beneath him, he picked a likely spot and jumped. Using the precarious support as a springboard, he leaped into the air with his burden tucked in his arms. He pushed the girl’s face against his chest and spread his wings to shield them as he burst through the damaged roof of the manor house.
Wood splintered, exploding outward with the force of the impact.
Fresh air rushed into the fiery attic behind him. The influx of oxygen fed the beast, stoking the flames until they roared.
Smoke obscured his vision, so he beat it away with his wings. When he could see again, he was over the dirt track that used to be the lawn around the house. It was covered with people. The fire brigade was there, as was Marcus and a few of his lieutenants.
Smoke-inhalation victims stretched out on the lawn. Some were moving. A few weren’t.
“Get some nurses down here,” he barked at the first man he saw.
“Is that little Clara?” the man asked, holding out his arms before suddenly drawing back.
Ash could see it happening—the transmutation from sympathy and concern to doubt and suspicion. It was always this way now. Everyone was a suspect.
He tucked the unconscious girl deeper into his embrace, like keeping her out of sight would shield her from getting branded as a Firehorse. “Never mind. Go get my aide Marcus and bring him to me.”
He turned his back, walking around the flaming wreckage, saluting the fire brigade along the way. The team was setting up their manual crank and pump tank, one of four in the city.
“The house is a loss,” he said. “Concentrate on keeping the fire from spreading to the neighboring buildings.”
At least the muck from the Seine was finally clean enough to put out the flames now. In the not-so-distant past, adding a bucket from the river would have been adding fuel to the fire. It was nowhere near potable, but at least the muddy swirl could be used as a fire suppressant.
The crowd parted as he carried his burden to the rear of the manor house. Kara was still there. She was directing the survivors, arranging them to help each other with the expertise and discipline of a general in the field.
It didn’t seem to matter that no one knew her. They automatically bowed to her innate authority. The woman could teach the archangel Michael a thing or two about leadership.
She turned and saw him. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was relief in her eyes, but his cynical side told him it wasn’t concern for him.
Kara rushed over to him, stopping him some distance from the nearest people. “Is she alive?”
“Yes,” he answered, glancing down. The child was starting to stir.
“I need to get her out of here.” Kara’s dark eyes were darting back and forth as if she expected the crowd to turn on them at any moment. “It’s not safe for her.”
He could taste her fear like tin on his tongue. “I know all survivors are suspect, but you don’t really think she’s a Firehorse, do you? She’s just a child.”
“She wouldn’t be the first, now would she?” Kara snapped, giving him a quick glare.
Ash’s head drew back. There was something in her eyes he didn’t understand. “I know it’s happened before. Believe me, I’ve tried to forget. But it’s rare for someone so young—”
“Theo was only a few years older than this,” she interrupted. “And if your theory is correct that talent is what gets you marked, then this girl has a giant bull’s-eye on her back.”
He glanced down at his burden. Clara seemed so small and young. Was there some earth-shaking discovery in this girl’s future?
“Isn’t she an apprentice seamstress? What has she done?”
Kara looked around again, apparently deciding the nearby smoke-inhalation victims were too close. She motioned for him to follow her to the edge of a scrubby brush line—the kind that should have been cleared as part of Bastille’s fire-prevention regimen.
Ash turned his back to the crowd, spreading his wings as if stretching them. The move effectively blocked them from view.
Kara checked behind them one more time before continuing. “Look, I got a quick rundown on this kid from the others. They said she was figuring out a way to recycle cloth—shredding the fibers, mashing them together, and pulling them into new threads. Except the brand-new cord to the machine sparked when she plugged it into a generator, and somehow the whole thing caught fire.”
He rocked on his heels. The way the fire started had curse written all over it, but it was the invention she was describing that caught his attention. “People wouldn’t have to wear their clothing until it was in rags. Just think of the acres of arable land we could open for crops that currently go to hemp and cotton. It’s the bare minimum right now, but what if—”
“What if, what if, what if?” Kara interrupted. “We’ve all heard that song before. We can’t stand here all day debating whether she’s a Firehorse. She needs to come with me now. Before she sets off an earthquake or a meteor falls on us where we stand. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he murmured, staring at her as the dots began to connect. She seemed so certain about this…
Merde. He leaned closer. “You can see them, can’t you? The Firehorses are marked in your eyes. That’s how you knew to get Didier and all the others.”
Something in her expression gave her away, even as she scoffed. “Of course I can see them. Everyone can see them. They’re not invisible.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You can see the taint of the curse on them, can’t you?”
She hesitated. “Is that what you do?”
“No, not exactly.”
Kara ran her teeth over her lower lip. “So their souls aren’t black in your eyes?”
His heart ached. How damaged had she been by that lie? Ash shook his head emphatically. “No. I meant what I said before. The cursed aren’t evil.”
Her eyes were hard. “How do you know you have the right person? If it’s not some sort of divine finger pointing from on high, then what is it?”
It was a good question. “I can only identify a Firehorse in the later stages. I see the disturbances they cause, and I don’t mean the disasters. There are…vibrations.”
“From the cursed?”
“From every living thing. Animal, plants, fungi, people…Everything has a specific vibration, but all the variation falls within a specific range. It’s subtle and usually unimportant. A Firehorse’s pattern is disturbed. But the curse itself is usually enough of an indicator. Amducious’ gift doesn’t get an extra kick operating in the dark. It creates more havoc by acting in the open.”
“Yeah, I am more than familiar with the mob,” she muttered, but then looked down. “Hey, there sweetheart.”
He glanced at his burden. The girl was fully conscious now, her eyes wide as saucers as she cringed in his arms.
“Yes, you’ve been struck down by the curse,” Kara said in a matter-of-fact tone. “And no, you’re not going to die—not if you come with me.”
Terrified, the girl trembled in his arms. She glanced at his face before quickly looking away. “I-I’m not a F-f-fire…”
The poor thing couldn’t get the words out. “Shh. Don’t say it aloud,” he advised, glancing behind him. No others were close enough to hear th
em, but he didn’t trust anyone.
“I’ll meet you in a couple of days with some rations,” he said.
Kara waved that away. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll scavenge what we need.”
“And if you end up taking the former prisoners?” he asked, frustrated with her stubbornness. “You can’t feed them all.”
Kara didn’t even blink. “I said don’t worry about it. We’ll just scavenge farther.”
Merde. She couldn’t give an inch—an admirable trait if it hadn’t been so damn frustrating.
“Take her and go.” He set the girl on her feet. Kara held her arm out for the girl. They’d only gotten a few steps away before he stopped them.
“Oh, and Kara? The next time I see you, we are going to have a long talk about how you manage to grow food in the wasteland.”
It had been a shot in the dark, but her hesitation was all the answer he needed. Kara whirled around, flipping him off.
Next to her, Clara’s eyes widened into saucers. The young girl snapped her head to the sky as if she expected Kara to be struck down by lightning for her show of disrespect.
“Don’t worry, kid,” he called with a rueful sigh. “God’s not watching.”
18
Ash was bleeding all over the cloth sack. He swore, shifting the supply of ration bars to his other arm.
He hadn’t heard from Kara in a few days, and he was starting to get nervous.
After she had left with Clara, Ash decided to let the mansion ruins cool down before beginning the clean-up. Funerals for the dead took place as the embers died, including Clara’s. He’d told her coworkers she had succumbed to smoke inhalation after her rescue. Only her brother knew the truth. With luck, he’d be able to resurrect her soon.
Curious about the machine the girl had been building, Ash had salvaged the parts in the hope others could reconstruct it. He ended up slicing his hand open on one of the razor-sharp cylinders spared by the flames.
It could have been worse. His hand would heal. And at least he wouldn’t have to regrow any fingers. That would have taken forever.
No further disaster had struck the city, which meant Kara had been correct. Clara had been their Firehorse.
Kara needs to tell me how she does that. And how she grows food in the wasteland. But his miracle maker was like an absentee fairy godmother. No wishes would be granted until she was damn well good and ready.
Reminding himself Kara had almost as many responsibilities as he did, he crossed the catacomb entrance threshold, jogging inside a few hundred meters to deposit the sack. One of their scavengers would find it. Ash would deliver it himself, but he’d vowed to wait until Kara came to collect the prisoners. It would be better if she came to him. Then he might have some leverage to bargain with her.
Meanwhile, he had a city to run.
Ash spent the next few hours flying all over town. He loaded grain in the field onto carts and oversaw the delivery to the mill. Then he helped one of the schools repair their roof.
The perfunctory tasks didn’t bother him as much as they usually did. Having hope again did wonders for his attitude. Ash even caught himself whistling once or twice.
His last task of the day was actually his favorite—overseeing the night men. There were dozens of them. Night men carried the city’s waste out to the fields to act as fertilizer. It was meant to be a temporary fix to compensate for the lack of plumbing in town. Temporary had become an institution, though he was still hoping to remedy that.
When the axle on one of the waste carts broke, he held up the bed of the foul transport so they could fix it without having to dump the load.
“I don’t think anyone would believe me if I said the city’s warden visits in person every month, has for years,” one of the men told him.
“The night men and women provide an invaluable service, one the city needs,” Ash replied, clapping the man on the back. “It’s Samuel, right? How is the family?”
“Not bad, not bad. Better since Klein is out of office in this district. He was an ass.”
This was news. “I thought he was popular in these parts.”
Klein had taken his cue from Mazarin, doing a lot of bragging about his accomplishments, shaking hands, greasing palms. Whatever it took to make it look like he was doing a great job without actually lifting a finger.
Samuel scoffed. “He wasn’t popular with me. Not with a lot of people. Totally spit on the night men just because we haul people’s shit away.”
The man cackled, showing some missing teeth. “Good rule of thumb, you can’t judge a leader by how he treats the other nobs. You have to look at how they treat the dirt,” he said, spreading his arms wide.
Ash huffed. Now he remembered why this was his favorite task. Samuel and his ilk were such a refreshing change from having to deal with politicians. “Maybe you should think about running to take Klein’s place.”
Samuel’s peal of laughter could be heard across three blocks. The other night men ahead of them on the track to the fields turned around, but kept going with their laden carts when Ash waved them on.
He was warming to the idea. Samuel would make a much better councilman than Klein had ever been. “Think about it. Night men know the city and its people. They even have a good idea of whose eating and what houses aren’t getting their fair share,” he said, nodding at the loaded car. “And personally speaking, an intelligent night man on the council would be preferable than the last lot.”
Ash wasn’t exaggerating. He’d feel cleaner after shaking Samuel’s hand than Mazarin’s.
“I thought there would be no more council,” Samuel said, wrinkling his bulbous nose as they walked along.
Ash shrugged. “I haven’t decided. Maybe temporary appointments or a lottery would be better. But no one serves indefinitely anymore. That was a big mistake.”
Samuel tilted his head as if thinking it over. “Temporary sounds good. Not sure about a lottery. Definitely not sure about me being a councilman. That’s a right stupid idea.”
“I disagree,” Ash echoed, deciding then and there Samuel should be one of the men taking one of those short-term appointments. “Although I’m starting to think the people I want to serve are the least likely to volunteer. Still, why don’t you come see me in Belleville and we can talk more about it?”
Samuel laughed again, but agreed when pressed.
Ash could tell the man didn’t take the offer seriously, but he would eventually. I’ll have Marcus talk him into it, he decided. His aide was much better at that sort of thing than he was.
He returned to his apartments in Belleville just before dawn.
Someone is here. Ash could feel the small disturbance in the air caused by someone breathing. It wasn’t Marcus. His aide was asleep downstairs. Ash could always tell because the vibrations of the man’s snoring traveled up the stairs.
Had a council member hired an assassin? He wouldn’t put it past them. He drew his weapon from its scabbard and stalked into his bedroom, ready to strike—only to be hit by a shoe. Judging from the impact, it was one of his boots.
“Ow. What the hell?” he asked, throwing the offending article aside.
“Where have you been?” Kara hissed. “I’ve been all over this rotten town.”
Ash brightened. “Searching for me?”
Kara threw her arms up in the air, looking as if she wanted to throw something else at him. “No, you ass! I’ve been looking for Theo. You need to help me find him.”
“What’s he doing inside the city?” Ash rubbed his nose. She’d managed to catch him with the heel of his boot. “Of all your band, Theo seemed the most at ease in the wasteland. Why would he come here?”
Kara started pacing. “It has to do with the girl from the fire, Clara. When she first arrived, she was shell-shocked and kept coughing from all the smoke. I left her with Madeleine so she could be examined. I thought it was safe to lead a scavenger team. I didn’t think she was going to be any trouble!”
“And was she?” Kara’s concern was infectious and a bit confusing. Clara was such a little thing. What could she have possibly done? Had he handed over some sort of spy or typhoid Mary to Kara’s band?
Kara held up a hand. “It wasn’t intentional.”
“What happened?”
“I didn’t know Theo knew Claire’s family. She has a brother named George. He and Theo were childhood friends. Claire was going on and on about George getting killed because of her. Theo got all worked up, and came here looking for him. Now I can’t find him.”
She broke off, wringing her hands. “I can’t believe he did this. He knows it’s forbidden—”
Ash patted her back. “He’ll be fine. We’ll find him.”
She waved a hand in front of his face. “Hello! Did you forget Theo’s a Firehorse?”
“But you found a way to neutralize the curse.”
She kicked him. “It’s temporary, you dolt!”
“What?”
Kara released a shaky breath. “I mean, what you think is a cure is not a cure. It’s more like a band-aid.”
“But it stops,” he said, his stomach twisting with nausea angels weren’t supposed to feel. The hope that had been fueling him the last few days was taking a hit.
“If it didn’t, the wasteland would be nothing more than a crater right now. Theo, Madeleine, and little Clara are alive because of you,” he added.
Kara fisted her hands. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, as if praying for patience. “It’s a hack, one that doesn’t work in the city as well as it does in the wasteland. Sooner or later, the curse will reassert itself, and Theo won’t be able to hold it off for long. He doesn’t—he has to be with me.”
Ash could feel his blood pumping faster. Frustration warred with anger. “We are going to find Theo, and then you are going to tell me everything. I need to know how the hell this works.”
She hesitated, jaw tight. “Yes, after we find Theo.”
“Let’s go. We’ll start in Place Léon-Blum. It’s where Clara lived.”
“I tried there already.”
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