by Michael Rigg
"What?" Bryce reared back and jumped to his feet.
Lydia glanced between the two brothers in shock. She broke in with a nervous laugh. "No, Bryce. He was struck on the head. He's delirious. He—"
Bryce surged inside. The doubts immediately cracked. "Shut up and let him speak!"
Again, Lydia's jaw dropped, but she said nothing as her pallor grayed.
Clayton spoke up, straining as if against looming fatigue that threatened to put him out cold again. "Bryce—Your Alice. She has the mark of the Trinity."
Lydia's eyes grew wide as her jaw dropped open, stuck this time in an expression of utter shock. She looked down at Clayton, pulling her hands away from him as if discovering he was crawling with disease. Bryce took an unsteady step back.
"I attacked her," Clay continued. "I tore her dress... her back... Bryce, she bares the mark..."
Lydia gasped and pulled away from Clayton as he rolled to the side and struggled to get up.
Bryce reached for the chrome pistol. He held it at his side. "Clay... What are you saying?"
Lydia scrambled to her feet as Clayton righted himself and tugged at his rumpled vest. Bryce noticed his suspenders hanging loose at the sides of his unbuttoned trousers. His mind replayed what Clayton just said about Alice's dress being torn. Lydia stepped back, her eyes searching Bryce's as she glanced between him and his brother. She glanced down at the Derringer. She pressed her fingers to her lips.
Clayton said, "I-I'm sorry, Bryce. It's true."
Bryce cocked the pistol but kept it pointed at the ground.
Clayton glanced at the pistol and knew his brother had a right to exercise justice for the woman he had assaulted. His hands at his sides, Clayton drew a deep breath and presented his chest as a target. "It's true. I believed her to be a spy, a Property who was using you to get to Landry Holdings. I... I fought with her... tried to... kill her...." His lower lip quivered with the confession. "In the throes of my violent lust, I... I tried to... take her. I-I thought she really was only Property, but... It's when I saw the mark of the Trinity, that I—"
Bryce raised the pistol and pointed it at Clayton's heart. His eyes burning red, Bryce spat through gritted teeth, "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"No!" Lydia pulled Clayton's arm and stepped in front of him. "Bryce, don't!"
"Step aside, Lady McFerran."
"Bryce, listen to me," Lydia said, her palms out, her eyes pleading.
Bryce continued to hold the pistol aimed levelly at Clayton's heart. The bullet would have to pass through Lydia to its target, but that didn't matter. He knew about the mark of The Trinity. He knew the tales of lore about the forefathers of this country, of nearly every country of the world. His own father had dreamed of the Clockwork Carpenters—claimed they had led him to every artifact recovered by Landry Holdings, including Atlantis. And he knew of the legends that those marked by Carpenters were angels or demons sent to change the world.
And Alice, an agent of the Clockwork Carpenters, had certainly fulfilled that role. Her very appearance took him away from the contract signing that would peacefully place the secrets of Atlantis in Confederate control. Now they were in the hands of a powerful Yankee corporation. Was it all by design? Was it also by design that she distract him from his family obligations with her mystery, her beauty? Her tears, her expression of loss and fear, they were so real.
He still felt deceived by her, but not purposefully. If she were truly being used by the Carpenters, she's an innocent. She wouldn't know the true depth of what she was.
If any of this incredible story were true, Bryce had been used by powers far greater than anyone could imagine, and used to change history. For the better, or for the worse, he didn't know. He would have to find Alice to make that determination.
Lydia said, "Bryce, if what Clayton says is true than I too have a confession to make. I chased her out of here. I told her I would kill Clayton and pin his murder on her!"
"Why in blazes?" Bryce growled.
Her bodice expanded as she drew a determined breath. When next she spoke it was as a Lady of the South, her chin raised in defiance. "Because it is important that Atlantis be returned to your father, at all costs, Bryce Landry."
"Fate would seem to have other ideas about that. You can't turn against them. You can't fight their whims!"
Lydia nodded. "I didn't know she had the mark, but it makes no difference what superstitious tripe your family believes. That stranger, be she Property or demon, has kept us from what is rightfully ours. Bryce, there are no such things as Clockwork Carpenters!"
Something in Lydia McFerran changed. Bryce saw it and so did Clayton who looked at her curiously over her shoulder as he touched the lump on the back of his head. Her voice had become more steady, deeper.
Clayton whispered, "Lydia? No... I have seen the symbol."
"Lower the weapon, Bryce," she said calmly, ignoring Clayton.
Bryce winced as he tried to make sense of all of this. The pistol had slowly lowered as they spoke. He raised it again. "Whether you knew she had the mark or not, Lydia, why did you do this? You had to know at the time that chasing Alice off wouldn't bring back Atlantis."
"It might've," she said, taking a step toward him, toward the pistol. "I had to take that chance, the chance that I could use Clayton and leverage your father to take Atlantis back from the North, to correct your mistakes, Captain."
Clayton glanced at Bryce, a foggy glint in his eyes that communicated that this was all news to him.
Lydia took another step toward Bryce and spoke evenly, her voice bold and pronounced with all traces of Southern Belle gone. "Whether I married you or Clayton it made no difference. I used money to buy your father. I used my body to buy Clayton, and potentially you. One way or the other it was important I gain control of Landry Holdings."
"What?" Bryce now turned the pistol on Lydia's heart. Clayton merely looked on, dumbfounded.
"I was acting on a higher authority, Captain Landry. It meant greater wealth, greater power, for you and your whole family. Now lower your goddamned weapon."
Clayton and Bryce's eyes strained as their faces blushed. Bryce raised the barrel to her throat as she took another step toward him. "Whose authority, damn you?"
Lydia stopped. With no trace of emotion in her voice, she said plainly, "The Council of The Thinking Machines and Silas W. Kennedy, President of the Confederacy... my husband."
Bryce quickly lowered the weapon to his side and took a step back. Clayton staggered back against the potting bench, his saucered eyes locked on the President's First Lady.
She removed the broach from her neck and opened her dress so she could pull out a necklace. From the end of the necklace hung a Celtic cross framed by a pyramid. A single ruby glinted from an eye at the top of the pyramid. Clayton and Bryce recognized the symbol immediately. There was no need for her to say it, but she did.
"I am a Lady of Grace."
~~~~~~~
The cold fingers wrapped around Pandora's wrist and effortlessly lifted her up and over the rail. Then the hand released her and clasped her by the hand.
"My dear lady, you could catch your death of cold out there," Hearse smiled as he grabbed her other hand as well and turned her so her back was to the building. He laced his fingers between hers on both hands so she couldn't cross her fingers and cast magic. Then he walked her backwards, through the broken glass scattered on the promenade and into the conference room.
Pandora looked down and away. She had heard that Ghouls can overpower you with their eyes. She tried clenching her fists, to dig her nails into the backs of his hands, but he was too strong, and too resilient, for her to break free.
Once inside the room, Hearse called over Pandora's shoulder, "Bradford, be a good lad and fetch a maintenance crew to repair this window. I'd hate for the morning sun to ruin the perfect gloom of this place when it rises."
Pandora tried to turn, to look over her shoulder toward Thorne, but the ghoul kep
t her back toward him. She also didn't hear him move to do the ghoul's bidding.
"Bradford," Hearse snapped, "Never mind the girl. I will make her pay for what she did to you. Now, go and do as I command."
Pandora heard a weak, "Yes, Mr. Hearse... Um, Teivel," over her shoulder. A few moments later the doors closed and she was alone with the ghoul.
"Look at me, my dear," he said.
She kept her face down and turned away. He tried blowing into her ear but she only whipped her head around to avoid having to look up at him. He continued to blow at her face as one might to annoy a dog.
"Oh, come now, my dear. You know I cannot release your hand to raise your chin. Won't you look at me?"
"Go to hell, you bastard!"
Hearse laughed and made a tisking sound with his tongue. "Such language for such a lovely young lady... Young at heart, I'd say... Not really as old as she smells, hm?"
"Let me go!"
"In time, in time."
"I have nothing to say to you!"
"Not yet, but you will, my lovely." Hearse eased her back to the conference table and pressed his body against hers. "Hop up," he grinned. He pressed still harder.
To avoid the pain exploding in the small of her back, Pandora did as she was commanded and hopped up to sit on the conference table.
"Good girl." He gave up trying to match the movements of her head to catch her eyes and simply said in a soothing voice, "Let me make proper introductions, hmm? I am Teivel Hearse, president of the Thorne & Hearse Corporation."
Keeping her eyes averted, Pandora snarled, "What'sa damn ghoul want with an Imperial company?"
Ignoring the question, Hearse chuckled, "I've told you my name... What's yours? Your real name, I mean? Or do I have to break all these pretty little fingers?"
She continued to squirm, to thrash her head from side to side, avoiding his eyes and not saying a thing.
"No?"
Catching her in mid head-turn, Hearse head-butted her hard above the forehead. Pandora immediately slackened in his grasp and slumped back, collapsing on the conference table as he knocked her out cold.
The King of Ghouls released her hands and lifted his knee to the table, then he hopped up and crawled onto the table, on top of her. He threw his leg over and straddled her at the waist, lowering his full weight to her body and studied her slack face. "You're a beautiful young woman, witch." He lowered his cold lips to her neck and kissed her gently, then breathed into her ear, "I've smelled you before, haven't I?"
He reached up and parted her lips with his fingers, reached into her mouth and pulled open her jaw. He sniffed her open mouth as if testing the expiration date on a bottle of milk. "Hmm. No? Yes? I think so, my dear. Philadelphia, I believe. You and Mr. Grubbs were hunting something, no? Some one?" He sniffed again before taking his fingers out of her mouth and lowering his lips to hers. Hearse kissed her deeply.
The doors opened and Bradford Thorne stepped in. The door rattled closed behind him.
Hearse looked up and smiled as if he hadn't just been kissing an unconscious woman. "You notified maintenance, Bradford?"
Thorne glanced between the woman and his new partner. He nodded slightly.
"Good." Hearse licked his lips before giving Pandora a gentle kiss on the nose, then he climbed off of her and off the table. "Now... There is something I need fabricated. I imagine our corporation—or at least your private holdings therein—have access to a leatherworks and a seamstress?"
Thorne's gaze traveled back to Pandora. He wondered if she was dead, if Hearse would eat her like he did Wolfe. He couldn't bear the thought. Thorne clutched his stomach as he felt himself start to wretch. He nodded again without saying anything, tried to push the gross thoughts from his mind.
"Splendid. Be a good man and fetch them here." Hearse turned and stepped up to the tall golden chairs and took a seat on Thorne's throne. "Be quick about it."
"Yes, Mr. Hearse."
"Oh, and prepare to mobilize some agents. I expect some intelligence within the hour and we'll need to go hunting for someone."
"Hunting?"
Hearse waved his hand as if shooing away a bothersome servant.
After Thorne departed, Teivel Hearse sat back on the throne. He crossed his legs at the knee and rested his arms on the wide arms of the throne. He drummed his fingers and bounced his leg as he stared at the unconscious witch.
He hummed Here Comes the Bride.
CHAPTER 25, “Mystic Lady”
I sat near the back of the flying covered wagon that swayed on the cross-currents of the winds just below the clouds, daydreaming out across the rolling green below dotted with farmhouses and odd factories that looked like spaghetti bowls of pipes and tubes. I thought about Bryce and Addy, their smiles and kindness. I thought about Lucien. I thought about Pandora and Wilco. I really wished things hadn't turned out the way they did. When I thought about Clayton's attack on me and the look on Lydia McFerran's face, I frowned and my eyelids grew heavy.
My hand moved to my chest, then my neck, to find the locket Bryce had given me, so I could hold on to memories of his kindness before —
Then I completely snapped out of my daydream. My hand moved over my neck. No chain. No locket. I drew a cold breath and looked back at the cot where I had been sleeping, the odd "Wocmend" machine above the pillow. Then my eyes traveled to Maggie sitting at the bench. She was looking at me oddly, with knowing eyes. Her own eyes glanced down to the hand at my neck. "Whassa matter, love? Whatcha lookin' far?"
I blinked and looked back outside. My heart sank as I looked out over the land receding behind us and wondered where I had lost the necklace. It was probably on the railroad tracks back in Shreveport where I'd fallen, lost forever... just like Bryce.
A glint in the corner of my eye pulled me around and I saw it. It dangled from Maggie's fingers as she came and sat down beside me. The smile on her face was warm but somehow lost. "I'm so sorry, love. I took it ta hold on to it for ya. I was gonna give it back, I swear."
She held the swinging bronze heart toward me and offered a more apologetic smile. "It was wrong o' me to hold onto it like tha'. I would never steal from an angel, love, I hope ya know."
I reached out and took the necklace by the chain and smiled back weakly, not sure I believed her, but not that it mattered. After all, I'm not the angel she and Kevin believe me to be. "Thank you."
Her eyes turned down. "I'm sorry, Alice. I ain't no fingersmith."
I opened the clasp and reached the two ends of the chain around my neck. Maggie leaned over to help me clasp it. "I'm just glad it wasn't lost," I said as I looked down and turned the dented locket over and over in my fingers.
Maggie sat back and watched me for a bit before asking, "Was it sometin' meanin'ful to ya? I mean... Ya look at it like it's got a lot of feelin' behind it."
I nodded slightly and tried not to cry. I didn't realize how much I'd miss having Bryce nearby. It stung knowing how Lydia threatened me. Still, I had new friends now and would make the most of it. I turned to Maggie and offered an understanding grin. "It was given to me by the man who rescued me in New York. He found me and..." I drifted a bit and had to remember to guard what I said. I didn't want to be caught in a lie with Kevin and Maggie. They'd been so kind even if their kindness was misplaced thinking I was some kind of divine womb-blesser. I said, "He found me and gave me something to eat. I don't remember much else."
She nodded, not seeing a need to pry, and reached out to rub my shoulder. "Now I'm really glad I didna keep 'er. She's really got a meanin' for ya, Alice."
Kevin's voice shouted back from the front of the wagon. "Maggs, my dear, we've got company!"
Maggie quickly turned and made her way forward, grabbing her pilot's cap and goggles as she made her way to the front of the flying wagon. I carefully stood, using the racks and rails of the wagon as hand-holds as I followed her forward. I leaned in and peered between them as Maggie took the seat next to her husband. "What is it?" I asked.<
br />
Kevin pointed above us to the left. I could make out the silhouette of an airship like a bloated gray sausage descending out of the clouds. It seemed to be lowering and angling toward us, turning to match our speed and direction. A series of running lights flickered along the compartments below it and a red banner with a blue field of stars flew from a pole jutting out from the bridge area of the ship. I recognized the flag. "It's Confederate?"
Kevin nodded. "Whoever she is, she's coming around to squat on us."
"What's that mean?"
Maggie looked back at me as she pulled her goggles over her eyes and adjusted the arm-lenses to magnify her pupils. "She's probably a patrol ship or sometin'. We're gettin' close to the country border and will be sure to pick up a patrol ship 'ere an' there."
"Is that bad?" I looked to Kevin.
He looked over his shoulder at me. His eyes were dark below the brim of his top hat and behind his goggles. "I don't carry contraband, Alice." He smirked, "Except maybe you."
I looked between them, my eyes widening slightly as I thought back on Lydia's threat. Could she have put the word out so quickly? Would I be arrested, or shot on sight? I glanced back at the cot I had called home since last night. There were boxes and bins under it. There was no room for me to hide aboard the wagon. I'd have to face it. "Look," I said, reaching out to rest a hand on Maggie's elbow. "I won't have you two getting in trouble because of me. If it's the authorities, I'll surrender myself, tell them I forced you to take me to Philadelphia."
Kevin grinned. "Nah, nah, Alice. Half truths are no better than full lies." He looked to his wife and smiled. "We'll tell them everything."
Maggie looked back at me. "True's right, love. We're in it together."
I leaned a little more between them and looked up as the airship finished swinging around to match our direction. As it came parallel with us and descended closer, I was able to make out shapes moving to and fro within the angled windows of the adjoining compartments below the blimp itself. Unlike some of the airships I'd seen, this one looked to have a long chain of cabins under its balloon, almost like windowed train cars. At the front-most part of the ship I saw a wider cabin with taller windows. The bridge, I assumed. Toward the rear was another large cabin with no windows. Pipes, tubes and struts angled out from this section to the enormous fan-like engines that propelled it.
