Nameless: A Tale of Beauty and Madness Read Online Free PDF

her dry lips. Her own Potential was a barely-seen shimmer hanging an inch from her skin, like the air over scorching blacktop. Fear, or anger, or any high emotion could make it visible even before it settled. Everyone would see it, and know she was . . . afraid?
    Not of him
. She concentrated, fiercely, and hoped she could speak without mush for once. “S-s-sorry, N-Nico.”
He won’t bite me. He never has before, even when we were little.
    At least,
she
had been little. He hadn’t. Even the few years’ worth of age he had on her was different, because you matured early when you were Family.
    And she wasn’t.
    He blinked. The shudders vanished. His canines retracted with a slight familiar crackling sound. He coughed, dryly, and looked up at Lou. “’Nother drink.” Sandpaper in his tone. “And the first-aid kit. Mithrus, how’d that happen?”
    I was trying to get out of your way
. She shrugged. A silent sigh of relief filled the pool hall. If he was talking, he wasn’t about to go crazy. Well, craz
ier
.
    He straightened, slowly, bracing her, brushing her off. “You okay? Hurt anywhere other than this?” Trying to be gentle, but his hand shook just the slightest bit. Her blood dripped again, and he could smell it.
    They all could.
Like sharks
, Nico said.
It only takes a little.
    Her ribs ached from where he’d careened into her, and her shoulder had somehow bonked something and would be bruised. She shook her head, half her hair falling in her face, strings of jet-black, not curly like Red’s or sleek and behaving like Ellie’s. Lou banged the first-aid kit on the bar—there was a dent in the wood’s shiny polish.
    A man-sized dent.
    “Another drink, comin’ up,” Lou announced. “Billy, get your ass over here and help me clean this up. What the hell
was
that guy, anyway?”
    In New Haven, you could ask that question, but you probably wouldn’t get much of an answer. The man could have been a jack born with weird skin, or a fey fresh from the Waste where they had their own strange ways of traveling, or anything else. Who knew?
    Life and motion returned. They went back to their games, the Family members unfazed and the others maybe a little rattled. Moustache Man was nowhere to be seen, and after Cami’s hand was bandaged Nico found out the bastard had left with the cash sitting on the pool table. Gone while the getting was good.
    Which meant Nico was pissed off pretty much all afternoon, even though he made it up in no time, skinning double from table to table.
    Cami didn’t blame him. He fussed at her constantly, too, and she wished he wouldn’t. Because she kept thinking about the wooden man’s eyes, staring through her.
    His blue, blue eyes. Like hers.

FOUR
    I T WAS DUSK BY THE TIME N ICO SHOT THE I VRIELLE through the slowly opening iron gates, barely avoiding taking off his side mirror. The pavement, shiny black and freshly sealed every summer, rippling with almost-visible defenses, was a ribbon between torch-burning trees, their leaves on fire with fall. Cami stared at the bandage—so white, Nico had done a good job wrapping it up. Then he’d taken down three shots of whiskey and calf and played for money the remainder of the afternoon, getting more and more worked up.
    He locked the brakes, skidding to a stop, and Cami heaved an internal sigh. There was Mr. Stevens on the front steps, a thin stick in a dusty black suit, his slicked-down gray hair glinting a little as the sunset died.
    “Just in time.” Nico kept the engine idling, his foot on the brake. “And look who’s here to greet us. My, my.”
    Awkwardly, she grabbed at his shoulder with her bandaged hand. He checked, caught in the act of reaching for the door handle. His profile, with its proud nose and sullen mouth, didn’t change.
    “Nico.” It was a miracle, something came out right. “P-please.”
    “He’s gonna have my ass for taking you out.” His chin set.
    “I’ll—”
    “Yeah, you’ll work on him. I