Curio by Evangeline Denmark Read Free Book Online Page B

twitched into a half smile. “Grey.”
    A beast snarled in Grey’s gut. She flattened a palm over her stomach where her skin tightened and itched. The mark writhed along with this new creature—this new Grey. Morality codes and Chemist law slipped away and nothing remained but her, Whit, and the pain.
    She pressed her chest into the side of the mattress, dropped her forehead onto the sheet next to his bloody upper arm, and let her tears fall.

    The fabric under Grey’s cheek was wet, but her eyes were puffy and dry. She slumped to the floor and grasped Whit’s hand in hers. He made a noise—a high, choking gasp in the back of his throat—but his eyes didn’t open.
    Fraternization.
    Indecent conduct.
    The Chemists could all rot.
    She’d see them flayed and helpless.
    She’d see them withered like Josephine. Stunted like the old miners.
    She’d see . . . A hazy ring outlined her vision, cinching inward. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the pounding in her head swallowed everything else, pushing her toward unconsciousness. A sound at the door jolted her back. Grey pulled her hand from Whit’s and clasped her arms around her drawn-up knees as Mother and Josephine entered.
    Josephine held the ration bottle close to her chest as though someone might snatch it at any second. She glanced at Grey then hurried to her son. “Is he awake?”
    Mother scrutinized Grey like she was some hybrid vegetable from the greenhouses. No doubt she searched for signs of illness.
    Grey’s presence here was proof. She was fine—hungry, yes—but not moaning and shaking while yesterday’s dinner spewed from her body. She must take after Father and Granddad.
    â€œDamnation.” Josephine scrubbed at the sheet near Whit’s face. A small purple stain bloomed on the bedclothes. “You need to take this, son,” she pleaded.
    Whit mumbled into the mattress. “Whose?”
    Grey got to her knees once again and put her face close to Whit’s. “It’s mine.”
    His gaze sharpened. “No.” He winced but repeated, “No.”
    â€œLook at me, Whit. I’m well. I skipped my ration this morning, and I’m right here in front of you. Not sick.” Grey eyed the potion bottle in Josephine’s hand. “You need this. It’s my fault they did this to you. Now let me help.”
    He held her gaze as if willing himself to concentrate through the pain. His eyes blurred as he struggled to stay conscious.
    Grey locked her arms against her sides and packed her overwhelming need to hold him and to avenge his suffering into one word. “Please.”
    His attention broke, lids fluttering to reveal white beneath the dark fringe of his lashes.
    Josephine ducked closer, edging Grey away from the bed. “Help me, Maire. I can’t get it into him like this.”
    Mother slipped to the other side of the bed, and Grey stood.
    â€œGrey, go into the parlor.” Mother’s quiet command hung in the room.
    Grey opened her mouth but words stalled on her tongue.
    Mother’s small hands reached over Whit’s body to grasp his arm and bandaged side. He cried out at her touch.
    â€œGo, Grey,” Mother said.
    Grey backed toward the door. Whit screamed and she fled.

    The Bryacres’ parlor shrank around Grey until she was a giant in a land of faded miniatures.
    Chemist greed will bleed this city dry , Granddad had said. Bleed it dry.
    Beneath her red coat, Grey’s chest heaved.
    The bloody lines on Whit’s back filled her vision. Bleed us dry.
    Red pressed in all around her. She dropped into a chair and closed her eyes but couldn’t escape the color of blood. A trace of stone-like strength curled outward from her midsection, but dizziness won out. Grey touched her forehead to her knees.
    A hand on her shoulder brought her upright.
    Mother gazed down at her, worry dragging at her thin mouth.
    Grey straightened in her seat