Talking had always sealed up the cracks that let fear and doubt in. He and Reed had volleyed quiet conversations through the frigid winter, through all the times when someone didn’t show up when they were supposed to and life had to carry on with a great big hole full of wondering what had happened.
They passed the dentist’s shop. She sat on the porch, waiting for someone to come by needing a tooth yanked out of their gums. A tool older than she was gleamed in her broad hands.
“We’re near Alden’s,” Nate said, realizing Reed had wisely led them on a wide, wandering path back to the hideout. “He can stitch up my head if it needs it.” Better Alden than asking the dentist to give it a go. She had kind eyes, but no one ever walked away from her store smiling.
Sparks made a face and snatched her bloody scarf out of Nate’s hand. She examined it with a frown. “What’s that sludge-puddle know about mending?”
“I’ve seen him do it.” Which wasn’t exactly the truth. But at least Alden had clean, sharp tools.
Alden had gotten chem-spooked and tried to pick up a broken glass with his bare hand. He’d stared at it, watching the blood run down his forearm. Nate had shouted at him for being foolish and sewn up his bloody flesh in thin rows. Once Alden had passed out and quit flinching, it hadn’t been much different than working with a delicate circuit board.
Reed took Nate by the chin to squint at his hairline. He sighed, his breath warm on Nate’s face. “You can’t do it with what you have?” he asked Sparks.
“Not unless you want him to look like a patchwork quilt.” She leaned in close and grimaced at Nate’s wound. “Might be an improvement.”
Nate shrugged Reed off and scowled at Sparks. “It’s up to me, you know.” He didn’t need a festering head wound further complicating his life.
“Yeah, I know.” Pain crossed Reed’s face. “I can’t stop you.”
“Can’t stop me from fixing my head up?” Frustration made Nate’s words ugly and sarcastic. Not everything was a secret. Not everything needed to be picked apart and unraveled. For once, he just needed help. Not Remedy. Not anything but a clean needle and strong thread. “Thanks.”
He stomped ahead of them, his coat spitting puffs of ash with every angry footstep. He didn’t have to turn back to know that he’d hurt Reed. Reed followed silently, close enough to catch him if he stumbled. Close enough to make Nate feel like a worm.
Near the shop, a column of black smoke from the wreck loomed over the skyline. People hovered in windows and doorways, watching it curl into dense clouds of smog.
“Is the city attacking us?” a child asked.
“They’re gonna burn us all away,” a creaking voice said.
It was Fran standing at the curb a block away from Alden’s. She wore a fine embroidered shawl and a string of black beads, like she was going to a party.
“Fran, you should come inside.” Nate reached for her hand, anxious to get her away from Reed and Sparks. There was no telling what she’d say.
Her eyes went wide. “Oh, you’re a scrappy bird. You don’t smell like death today.”
“Alden’s mom?” Reed asked in a whisper.
“Grandmother.” Nate gave her weathered hand a gentle tug.
Sparks went to her other side and offered her arm, and Fran took it with a happy, dry laugh. She put her head on Sparks’s shoulder.
As they reached the door, Nate let go of Fran’s hand. Sparks led her inside to the sound of tinkling bells. He leaned into Reed, suddenly very tired of worrying.
The truth tickled in his throat. It would be so easy to tell Reed what he was and let Reed decide his fate. Throw him out for hiding what he was. Sell him to the Breakers. Either way, he wouldn’t have to lie anymore.
“Isn’t there somewhere else you can get mended?” Reed asked, a gentle rumble at Nate’s ear.
Nate pressed his forehead to Reed’s chest. The space between them was a snarl of wire—the kind he could usually untangle without snapping a single strand. But he couldn’t tinker his way through this knot.
“Why does it matter?”
“He’s a chem pusher, Nate.” Reed cupped the back of Nate’s neck, grip light, like he thought the touch would hurt him. “That’s what matters. I don’t care if he gives his credits away to addled old women.”
Nate sighed. “It’s safe enough here. I like Fran. Alden’s not going to hurt me.”
“Not this time around?”
Nate couldn’t look up. He’d been a starving, sick mess when he’d gone to Reed, begging for a place to stay with nothing but a handful of tools to offer in return. Alden had fed on him for so long he hadn’t been sure of the day or even the month. He couldn’t let himself think about it, not now.
