The Gray House

“I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone here.”

“And I wasn’t expecting anyone to drag himself all the way up here to have an epileptic fit.”

There’s enough poison in her words to make each and every one of them deadly.

“I also didn’t know we were such good enemies” is all I can say.

To put at least some distance between us, I walk back to the hatch and assess the situation below. I’m not surprised to find Noble there, confidently heaving himself up the fire escape. Noble is a very persistent guy, far from the touchy and unstable image he likes to project sometimes.

Tabaqui wheels back and forth at the bottom of the ladder, looking up intently. The blue wall bears the bloody trail of my attempt. As I look at it I can feel my back burning and itching again, and I also get another feeling, telling me to step away from the edge. When in dangerous places, one shouldn’t be standing with one’s back to people who look at one in a certain way. I make a half turn. Chimera’s smirk tells me that she’s well aware what made me do that.

“Hey!” Tabaqui shouts. “There you are! I thought you’d fainted up there! Where’ve you been?”

I nod at him.

Noble’s patterned shirt makes him look like a butterfly when seen from up here. A very purposeful and stubborn butterfly, shorn of its wings by some nasty person. He’s successfully navigated the spot where I stumbled because of the first nail and is making nice progress, but even looking at his admirable turn of speed I am still uneasy. I step away from the hatch, as if my not looking is going to make his endeavor less dangerous.

“What’s your deal?” Chimera asks. “What are you doing here?”

“What about you?”

No answer.

High cheekbones, narrow eyes, hair dyed emerald green. A living doll. She’s got a plaster collar around her neck, green eye shadow extends all the way to her temples, lips are the same bright red as the dress, and there’s so much powder that it completely conceals her eyebrows. I recall that as she walks something is always clanking under her clothes and her gait is somewhat stilted, making the image of a broken toy even more apt.

“We had a bet. Who could climb up faster.”

There’s only disdain in her fixed gaze.

“You’re both idiots.”

I happen to agree. That’s exactly the case. I go back to the hatch despite my firm resolution, only a minute ago, not to do that.

Noble is closer than I thought he’d be, but his tempo has slowed markedly and he pauses on each step, recuperating. I feel slightly sick and go to stand as far away from the hatch as I can to prevent myself from peeking in accidentally, counting the seconds in my head. About half a dozen rungs left. I slow down the count. Chimera in the meantime sullenly goes through colorful epithets that are equally applicable to both Noble and me, and can’t seem to choose one and go with that. Apparently none of them fully reflects her opinion.

A short while later, Noble drags himself through the hatch and stretches out near the edge, breathing heavily. Chimera’s voice strengthens. Without paying her any attention and even before he gets his breath back, Noble starts turning out his backpack.

“Self-absorbed morons! Infantile halfwits! Brain-dead steeplejacks!”

Noble lines up a bottle of medical alcohol, cotton wool, a pack of surgical tape, and a flask of water on the floor. Now I understand where he’s disappeared to. He went to fetch the first-aid kit, and then lugged it up here on his back.

“Macho offspring of a middle finger! Snobs with heads up your asses!”

Noble treats the holes on my back. Chimera slowly winds down, and finally the attic is bathed in blessed silence. Goldenhead looks around, puzzled, as if he’s just realized that it was much more noisy up here until now.

“Hello, Chimera,” he says. “Why did you stop all of a sudden?”

Chimera freezes, mouth agape. Not for long.

“God, I’m excited,” she hisses. “I have been benevolently noticed! And by whom! Why, it’s Noble, the most beautiful of the House males!”

“Now that’s an exaggeration, sister,” Noble says, bestowing a smile upon her. “It’s not entirely correct. I mean, of course I’m far from being ugly, but the most beautiful, that’s a bit much. Makes me uneasy listening to that, however close to the truth it might be.”

Chimera gasps for air.

Only someone closely acquainted with Noble can discern, appreciate, and enjoy all the nuances of this game, him playing a vainglorious dreamboat. The alcohol stings like seven hells, Chimera’s fury is flooding the cramped space, splashing through the hatch down to Jackal, and I’m still giggling—because Noble is deadly in this role of Prince Charming, deadly and also completely insufferable.

He casts a condescending look about and says, “It would appear that you’re hiding here to be alone with yourself. Such a familiar feeling.”

“Oh, really,” Chimera snarls. “Who would have thought that you of all people would be familiar with it? And now that we have all admired your perspicacity, get the hell out of here. Leave me alone with myself!”