The Wind City (23 page)

He looked
abashed
, of all things, and it was only then that Saint realised he’d been staring and yeah, that could maybe be taken the wrong way. He snapped his mouth shut and held out his fist. “My friend,” he said casually. “I do believe you just made physics cool.”

Steff’s whole face lit up. He bumped his fist.

“… Ah,” he said, hesitantly. “Saint.”

“Yeah, bud?” Saint said, lying back down. The grass was crispy-brown, sort of springy, and the sun shone down too brightly, and at this corner of the school grounds no one would bother them for a while.

“Could you make something else part of your image, maybe?”

“Hm?”

“I mean, you’ve got the coat –” (Not the one he had
now
, of course. His current one was much better.) “– and a certain … reputation, or whatever, and I know you’re ‘sticking it to the man’, but could you maybe… not smoke?”

Saint sat up straight. “What,” he said indignantly.

“Just a suggestion,” Steff murmured.

“It’s been months now and this is the first sign you’ve given that it bothers you! Sorry, but you’re a little too tardy to attend the Guilt Trip Party. The balloons have all deflated. There is not a shred of cake remaining. The train? It has
departed
the station. It departed the station early, in fact! Inconvenienced a lot of commuters. The schedules were –”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Steff said. “I’m not objecting, exactly. It’s your life and your body and your choice to make.” He met Saint’s eyes squarely. “But there is an entire world of endless possibility, a whole constantly unfolding universe. So many wonders to see every day, and I’d like it if you were alive with me for every minute of it.”

Saint stared at him for a minute.

“… Hey, you know what’d be hilarious,” he said, looking away. “If I managed to start a fad of pretend-smoking those candy cigarettes, you know those? Now
that
would be some quality crowd manipulation. Get half the school chomping away at Space Man Candy Sticks like they’re ten-year-olds. Man, yeah. I am liking this plan.”

“I like this plan too,” Steff said quietly, and Saint busied himself in grinding out his cigarette, because apparently he had a habit to get rid of.

Fortunately it wasn’t too terribly long after that that he was introduced to Buffy and the wonders of a certain snarky bleached-blond vampire; shortly after that his sadly depleted image became strengthened by the addition of copious amounts of peroxide and a fantastically irritating endearment.
Bite me, pet
, he’d drawl – even with a horrible English accent the first few weeks, he shuddered looking back – and he’d crunch on a candy cigarette and grin disconcertingly, and then he’d go bother Steff, and his image of inexplicably stylish weirdness was upheld and he smoked not at all.

Or, well. He smoked less often. It was a hard habit to kick, apparently, and it helped so much with stress, sometimes, because when people were yelling he could just light up – but in any case. Less.

At least where Steff could see.

“Saint,” Noah was saying now. “
Saint
,” and Saint blinked and sat up.

He rubbed the heel of his palm sharply across his eyes.“Ugh. Sorry. I am really not awake today.”

“You’ve been doing very well,” Noah said. Saint blinked again. Noah smiled at him, and it was probably the remnants of Saint’s tiredness that made Noah’s smile seem all soft and fond.

“Uh,” Saint said uncertainly.

Noah stood up. “I didn’t mean to discomfort you. Just – I’m glad you’re alive.”

Saint stifled one last yawn and made himself stand up, as well. “I wish you were alive too,” he said.

Noah went out of focus for a moment, and then came back. He looked stunned. “I… ”

“If only so I could punch you in the face when you’re being a dick,” Saint added, because Noah looked a lot more overwhelmed than that statement really warranted.

Noah said, “You don’t even know who I was.
I
don’t… even know who I was, half the time. Saint, there’s barely anything left of me and I can’t, I, sometimes I change without even knowing about it and I don’t
remember
–”

His voice was going all frantic and pleading, so Saint held up a hand to forestall him.

“Shhh,” he said. “Hey. I know who you are
now
, and that’s what matters, right? Don’t let your past get to you. Right now you’re helping me save the world!” He flung out his arms. “And that’s
amazing
, all right? I mean, well, not the entire world, if we’re being accurate, maybe not all of New Zealand even, but by my count we’ve
directly
saved at least ten people from dire threat and who knows how many people the other monsters would’ve killed or tortured or worse if we hadn’t stopped them? Seriously.” He leaned forward, intent. “There are people alive in the world that wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you and me, pet, and that’s not nothing.”

Noah looked uncomfortable. Which – was way more endearing than Saint was willing to admit, Noah getting all squirmy and embarrassed just from this praise. “I… suppose that’s true.”

Saint hmmed at him thoughtfully. “Whatever your grand atua-killing plan is, we can’t do it yet, right?”

Noah sighed. “No. I can go scouting, at least; I should’ve done that days ago. I’ll try to find out where they hide – maybe identify their leader, if they have one. There has to be something. Atua are very much a product of their surroundings, and for these sorry displaced wretches to even be able to survive here they must’ve clung to somewhere or something.”

“Yeah yeah,” Saint said, “scouting, sure, but that can wait. I’m gonna get something to eat. And you can… watch me eat, I guess.”

Noah looked pleased. “Good! Good. Are you going to your friend for help?” he said, rather inexplicably. Saint must’ve looked confused, because Noah added, “The one who you texted a lot, before.”

Saint snorted. “Oh god no. I tried that. No.” He grinned, perkily. There was caffeine and fire mingling in his bloodstream, and he was the weird kid who did whatever he wanted to. “But I have a better idea.”

“Yeah?”

Saint flung out one arm. “
Showering!
” he declared.

Noah raised an eyebrow. “All… right then.”

“And then,” Saint said, happily, “victimless crime.”

Noah grinned. “I knew you’d think of something.”

The taniwha girl seemed willing to listen to her now, and Hinewai wanted to do this right. She took her to the hill that they called Mount Victoria nowadays, and they stood there, stood on the stony back of an ancient taniwha with the wind whipping around them. The sky was clouded over, the city a beautiful prospect all greyed over and dulled.

Hinewai said, “Long ago there were two taniwha called Ngake and Whātaitai, and they were trapped in a lake. Ngake grew restless, and charged at the wall of their prison, and broke through it, and swam into open sea; Whātaitai, left lonely, decided too late to follow him, but was stranded on the breach by the tides, and eventually turned to stone. Taniwha are both guardians and monstrous – What are you
doing
?”

Tony was standing at the railing, staring at the view. “Dang, you can see the whole city from here.”

“Here he lies all deep stone dreaming, where once his tortured soul fled screaming,” Hinewai said mysteriously, waiting for questions. Tony would of course be curious about the taniwha who had by tradition protected this place, as that was her duty now.

“Okay,” Tony said. “Oh, man – informational plaques!”

Hinewai sighed. “I am telling you because it is a story most people here know, and because it is about family. That is the theme of my own tale.”

Tony paused and looked at her, properly, finally. “Family… ” she said. “Okay, sorry, yeah. I’m listening.”

Tony was quite stupid, generally – wait, that was probably one of those remarks that was ‘offensive’, and she’d learned that she had to be careful to avoid those, even in her thoughts. She would be helpless in this world without her human-guide. Tony was ignorant about many things, but she
understood
the city. Things would go easier if she understood Hinewai as well.

“My name is Hinewai,” Hinewai said, because stories started with names, “woman of light rains.”

“Yupyup, you’ve said,” Tony said, looking at her expectantly. “That’s why it’s all drizzly when you’re around?” She flung out her hand at the cloudy sky.

“That’s beside the point. I am Hinewai, daughter of the sky. Have you ever heard of me?”

Tony grinned at her ferociously. “Not until you took over my mind, nope.”

Hinewai brightened. That was an
actual
smile, not like most of Tony’s stupid human grins. Real grins had more
teeth
in them, more sharpness, more threat. It was so very idiotic to grin like humans did, all happy and helpless. Almost as bad as
laughing
, which was another thing the girl did far too often, but this, this was a proper grin, baring teeth as a threat. She was learning. “Yes, few people have,” she said. “But you’ll have heard of my sister, Hinepūkohurangi.”

“I’m sorry I snapped at you –”

Hinewai blinked. “Why?” she said.

Tony sighed. “Never mind. Hinepūkowhatsherface.” She frowned. “I think Rangi
did
tell me that one. Woman of mists or something, right?”

“Yes,” said Hinewai, through gritted teeth. “Everyone has heard of her. She gets a whole
story
, after all. She got to fall in love with a mortal – you know how these stories are: an atua woman. A mortal man. She stays with him at night, but he cannot ever look at her in the light of day or she will have to leave him forever. The normal bargain.”

“Normal,” Tony echoed.

“Yes!” said Hinewai, pleased. Explaining her purpose shouldn’t have been any easier than the rest of their misunderstandings, but it was. They were connecting, perhaps! Becoming
human friends
. This was very nearly communication. “In any case. My sister got to have a mortal lover, and to get her heart broken; he betrayed her, naturally – they always do. And her tale has been told for many hundreds of years. And her lover later was turned into a rainbow so that he could be with her, and that story has been told for hundreds of years as well. Immortalised by the speaking of words, tales told of you for centuries – all atua are long of life but that’s the only way to be
immortal
, and she never even had to try!”

“Hin,” Tony said, “you’re killing that plaque. Calm down.”

Hinewai looked down. She’d dug her fingers into the stupid human thing so hard that the plastic coating it had shattered. She pulled her hand back, horrified with herself.

“Don’t freak out, I mean, vandalism is the
least
terrible thing you’ve done,” Tony said, and then added, “Sorry,” and then, “hey, calm down.” Hinewai was striding from side to side, working out her restlessness that way instead.

“It’s an atrocious habit,” Hinewai snarled. Destroying things was perfectly fine, but fidgeting without meaning to was not: it showed lack of control, and she was always controlled, always. She had that at least.

“What? Whai did that.”

“The ponaturi boy? He was insane, then. Broken by trying to be in this world. It doesn’t show most of the time, but there are ways to tell.” She nodded to herself. “Sometimes people seem sane but there is brokenness underneath. It is good he died, most likely; he would’ve killed you one day, unless you’d known to stay clear from any nets he made.” She paced on.

There was silence for a second. It was pleasant. Hinewai had always liked the sound of the rain. Perhaps Tony was enjoying the rain as well? Hinewai hoped so. She made it rain a little harder and looked at Tony expectantly.

Tony was staring at her with an expression that Hinewai didn’t understand. “You’re talking about someone I liked quite a lot,” Tony said, slow and careful. “Who died.”

Hinewai nodded. “Yes. He was insane.”

Tony abruptly started walking, away from the lookout, down the steps to the road. Hinewai stared after her, confused.

Perhaps she had been very fond of that plaque? Or her ugly jacket, perhaps the rain had ruined it. Yes, that was it – humans did have a tendency to get attached to useless things. Hinewai would buy her a new one.

Hinewai sat on the railing and looked out at the city. Tony came back eventually.

“Okay,” Tony said. “And you had better be
really
helpful when it comes to fighting Māui, just so you know.”

Hinewai raised an eyebrow, which was a human expression that she had grown fond of, as it was a lot more useful than most of them; it conveyed superiority, arrogance. She liked it. “I am strong and clever and skilled, and there is little I am afraid of aside from the things you know,” she said, and listed them: “Fire and full sunlight and the foul stink of cooked food, and not having a story, and not having you. Those last are more unpleasant to contemplate. I can brave even fire if it means I make my mark. So of course I’ll be of use. I’ll be invaluable.” She tossed her head, then frowned. “Is something amiss? You’re blushing.”