Clockwork Looking Glass (Heart of Bronze Book 1)

by Michael Rigg

  Susanne nodded, a little confused. Her mind played back images of Teivel Hearse. He seemed to be a normal, tan, blue-eyed handsome man, but her image of him was beginning to crack. She now remembered pale skin, deeply veined, and red demonic eyes. Her hand moved to her mouth. She gasped slightly. "He is a ghoul."

  Thorne nodded. He relished watching her mind come back to her and silently wished he had the kind of power Hearse used to enslave her in the first place. Surely, with Atlantis, he soon would.

  "B-But ghouls are undercity dwellers, animals. Most of them were wiped out in—"

  "Apparently not." Thorne stepped close enough to rest his hands on her shoulders. This time she didn't flinch. "I need you, Susanne Norris. You and I are the only human beings at the top level of the company now. We need to fight him. Swear your allegiance to me—to humanity—and I'll see to it you are not only spared, but richly rewarded."

  Susanne let her own eyes drift up to her boss's and she nodded once, sharply. "Yes sir, I will."

  "Good."

  "What will you have me do?"

  As much as he wanted to say "me," he now had grander schemes hatching in his mind to thwart the building frustration. He now had a hypnotized automaton of his own, a human robotic servant to spy on that ghoul thing from the inside. Thorne drew a sharp breath and offered a tight smile. "Stick to it. Serve it, but report to me. I want to know everything it does, everything it plans. Don't sleep tonight. Go and report to it. Stay near it and give it anything it wants."

  He paced as his mind wound over the potential. He smiled, feeling better already. This plan might work. "I want you to spy on it, Miss Norris, track its every move. Follow it from a distance. Do not go to sleep tonight, is that clear?"

  She nodded as she followed his pace. "Yes, sir."

  "Keep on it. Keep close, then—as I assume it will sleep during the day, I want you to report back to me in the morning." She nodded again with more confidence. This was something she could do. "Yes, sir, Mr. Thorne." He stopped. Chewed his lip for a moment, then waved her away. "Okay, go now. Expect my call in the morning."

  Susanne nodded with a slight bow. "Yes, sir." Then she turned and moved to the door.

  "Oh, Susanne?"

  She stopped and obediently turned to him.

  "Use the corporate funds to buy yourself a bouquet of roses, red. A dozen. On the card, write, 'To a lovely lady' and sign my name." Susanne half-smiled at first, expecting it to be some kind of joke, but when she saw the look on his face she forced a full blinking smile and nodded. "Of course, Mr. Thorne. And thank you sir."

  "Oh, and see who is in the office downstairs and send her up—I don't care who it is."

  She nodded. "I believe Yevette is working tonight, sir."

  He waved her off. "Whatever. Send her up. I wish to have a letter recorded and you, my dear, are far too important for such tasks now."

  Susanne nodded again and turned toward the door. "I'll send her right up, Mr. Thorne."

  After the door closed, he said, "Good."

  That was late last night. He could barely sleep. But Yevette was the perfect nightcap for the evening and he drifted off with his arms wrapped around her cooling body, the sword of his manhood still deep within her, and slept the sleep of kings.

  After his shower, he dressed in a light gray suit and sky blue ascot. He selected a derby to match the suit and applied a fresh coat of wax to his mustache before turning to the corpse in the bed and kissing her on the forehead through the sheet that covered her. "Thanks again, sweet thing." He turned to the phone and picked it up. He tapped the cradle switch and listened for the buzz to connect him with the desk downstairs.

  "Thorne & Hearse, how may I help you?"

  Thorne smiled at the new girl's voice. "This is Mr. Thorne. Please connect me with the main office."

  "Yes, Mr. Thorne. Immediately."

  Moments later, and only after one ring, Susanne Norris answered. "Thorne & Hearse. How may I direct your call?"

  "Susanne, my dear," his voice smiled. "It's Bradford Thorne. How are you?"

  "I'm very good, sir. A bit tired, but nonetheless worse for wear as they say."

  "Good, good. Anything to report?"

  "Mr. Hearse was in the conference room with two people from the leatherworks all night, sir, and the seamstress." Thorne heard papers shuffling on the other end. "What was her name...?"

  "No names necessary, Miss Norris. What were they doing with Hearse?"

  "I have no idea, sir, and he wouldn't let me in the conference room, not even to get him coffee—"

  Thorne said flatly, "Ghouls don't drink coffee."

  "Yessir, but when they left—all of them together at about 3:30 this morning—the woman, Miss Brass was her name...."

  "Yes?"

  "The woman was dressed in a white gown with silver and white bows at the shoulders. Her long black hair was loose down her back and she had something on her hands."

  "Her hands?"

  "Yes, sir. They were thick, like laced leather gloves of some kind. Heavy, almost like baseball mitts."

  Thorne scratched his chin. He imagined the scene and pretty much figured out what it was. For whatever reason, Hearse had dressed up the woman and shackled her hands in leather, perhaps to keep her from casting magics in her own defense. But then she left with him. "Curious."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And the woman's demeanor? The one trussed up in leather and lace?"

  There was a long pause before Susanne said, "She appeared in a daze, sir, beaten, as if in a trance or spell of some kind."

  "Where did they go?"

  "The workers returned to their homes I'd imagine, sir. I followed Mr. Hearse and Miss Brass."

  "Good. Where did they retire to?"

  "The subway, sir. I followed them as close as I dare. Once Hearse and the woman went down an abandoned train tunnel, into the dark, I couldn't follow them anymore."

  Thorne nodded on his end of the line. "You did well, Susanne. Now, listen to me carefully. Take down these notes." He waited for her to ready a pencil and paper.

  "Yes, sir."

  "I want you to rent an apartment near that subway so you can keep an eye on him. Make sure that's done today. Decorate it however you'd like. It's yours."

  "Thank you, Mr. Thorne, I—"

  "I am speaking, Susanne."

  "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

  "Once you have the apartment, get your rest. Sleep. Once night comes, you'll need to be up and following him and this 'Miss Brass' closely. You'll need a car. I don't trust the taxi service in this God forsaken city. Buy yourself an aerocoupe. You know how to fly one, don't you?"

  "No, sir. I've used public transportation in the city since I was—"

  "Fine. Hire yourself a driver. Pay him handsomely for his service and tell him you work directly with me. Threaten his silence if you must. All of this is constructed so that you can keep tabs on our Mr. Hearse. Is this understood?"

  "Yes, Mr. Thorne, sir."

  "Good. Oh, and Susanne?" Thorne turned and gazed at Yevette's body under the sheets of his bed.

  "Yes, Mr. Thorne?"

  "There is a body in my penthouse. I'd like it removed and placed in a freezer."

  A long silence.

  "Miss Norris!"

  "Yes, sir... A body, sir? Freezer?"

  "Yes. I intend to offer it as a breakfast gift to our Mr. Hearse, so make sure you use only company people to perform this task."

  "...Yes, sir. I understand."

  "Have a delightful day, Miss Norris. Rest well."

  "Yes, sir. I—"

  He terminated the call.

  Across the cityscape, high above the Center of Trade, Susanne Norris slowly hung up the phone. When she'd sent Yevette Chelox up to take a letter with Mr. Thorne, she had no idea she'd be sending the woman to her death. But how could she not? She knew what Thorne was. He was a monster no worse than the ghoul—though probably far worse in most respects. Susanne scowled and cursed herself for
being so stupid, but then again there was really nothing she could do to fight Thorne. The man was far too powerful.

  Not that she'd want to fight him. In less than 12 hours, she'd been elevated to the role of personal corporate assistant to a boss, she had her own apartment, aerocar, flowers, servants... and she would definitely take advantage of her new role and set herself up nicely. She smiled as she stood up from the desk and retrieved her wrap and handbag. If Thorne was going to murder girls and feed them to the ghoul, so be it. That had nothing to do with her. She was innocent. She was just an employee.

  Smiling, Susanne Norris left the offices of Thorne & Hearse. She had some apartment shopping to do.

  ~~~~~~~

  Wilco locked the stick on the Canary so he could press the wireless earpiece in his cap closer to his ear as he yelled above the roar of the biplane's engine and the whipping wind. "I said Pandora has been taken prisoner by a ghoul—the same ghoul she and I traced from Philly."

  Hundreds of miles away, high above Louisiana, Lucien Howard handed the headset to the man next to him. "You'd better take this, Bryce."

  Bryce took the headset and pulled it over his ears. "Wilco? Wilco, what is it?"

  "Pandy. The ghoul took her!"

  "What ghoul?"

  Wilco explained everything that he'd received from Pandora's few-seconds of mental communication. He told Bryce how he'd retrieved the map to Atlantis from Thorne's desk after they infiltrated the office and conference room. He told him about the pool of dried blood that he figured was Nigel Wolfe, and he told them about the marks Pandora had seen on Alice's back and how they matched the map key to Atlantis.

  Then Bryce told Wilco about the incident in the greenhouse, about how Lydia McFerran was a Lady of Grace and that his own brother had tried to rape and murder Alice before Lydia chased her off.

  "We have to find them both," Wilco shouted against the wind in the cockpit. "And quickly."

  "I know, I know," Bryce called back. "Lucien and I have already covered most of the area around Seven Orchards. Wherever Alice is, she must be dug in, hiding, or God forbid, fallen into dire straits. She can't have gone far on foot, but there's no sign of her."

  Wilco, hearing the strain in his old friend's voice, called back, "I'm on my way, Captain. I'm veering toward Louisiana now. I'll make some calls, tap the network, get more eyes out there."

  On his end, Bryce nodded. Then he shook his head. "Make the calls, but then get back to New Yorke and get Pandora back."

  "I can't. She warned me away, Bryce. This ghoul is powerful. I can't get her back."

  After a long pause, Bryce said, "We'll get her back, my friend. We'll find a way."

  Wilco ended the call. He steered the Canary toward the closest air fuel station, hunkered down in the cockpit, and blinked away the mist in his eyes. He wished he could think of a way to get his daughter back, to save her life as she had saved his, but he knew deep in his heart there was nothing he could do against such a powerful ghoul. The pain in his gut roiled, eating up his resolve. All he could do was press on. He charged up the radio to make some calls.

  ~~~~~~~

  Bryce handed the headset back to Lucien who hung it on the wireless hook.

  The butler said, "Well?"

  "Thorne & Wolfe is no more. Apparently, an articulate ghoul has killed off half the equation."

  "Which half?" Lucien asked without blinking.

  "Nigel."

  "Blast," the butler grumbled, "Why couldn't he take the smart one?"

  "This is no laughin' matter, Lucien. The specter has Pandora—and Atlantis."

  Bryce sat back and folded his arms. He considered the passing countryside below as he thought about Alice, then Pandora. If what Wilco said was true, there was no way they could fight them, unless there really was a mystical power to Alice that they had yet to discover. Her mysterious and timely appearance, the way she'd handled Perik Grubbs, the mark of the Trinity on her back. He wasn't sure what or how, but Alice was the key to all of this. She may even be the key to Pandora's rescue.

  "Where to, Bryce?"

  Bryce shrugged and loosely pointed to their left. "Let's try another circle of the north end of the city." He reached for the headset. "I'll call Clayton and see if Adel has had any luck on Sergeant."

  Lucien huffed as Bryce pulled the headset over his ears and adjusted the microphone.

  "What?"

  Lucien wrinkled his nose. His spectacles bobbed under his goggles. "I don't see how you can even talk to the man after what he'd done to Alice."

  Bryce's eyes chilled as he glared at Lucien. The chord in his neck throbbed. "He's my brother first, Lucien, but I am not finished with him, nor Lydia McFerran, nor this family. And I thought you had suspicions about Alice yourself. Why the turn? Why the concern?"

  “I did,” the valet paused and looked out over the skyscape, “But I admit that what I thought may not very well be true in light of these new revelations. And it's assault, Bryce! Brother or no, he assaulted a woman! Very ungentlemanly!”

  “I know.”

  Lucien opened his mouth to say something else, but Bryce leaned forward and patched in the connection back to Seven Orchards. The Englishman decided to let the matter drop. It was, after all, a family matter, and one his lord would have to solve on his own. Besides, it wasn't the first time Lucien was vexed by Bryce's actions.

  As the aerocar banked over the north side of Shreveport, Lucien worked the controls to slow them and bring them lower to the ground. He scanned the roads and alleys, fields and pumping stations for any sign of the missing girl.

  With each passing minute, hope faded.

  CHAPTER 27, “Phantom of the Clouds”

  "I said pick one." Captain Elias Vernon aimed his pistol down at Kevin, then swung it to Maggie, then back again.

  Wiley kept his gun leveled at me even with my hands raised above my head. The British boy, Leslie, sat down at the edge of the open bomb bay hatch and wrestled with the enormous soup can gun, trying to load a can of corn into the breach.

  I had no idea how many more pirates were on the ship, but part of me didn't seem to care. Elements of my mind, my distant memory, were starting to come back to me. I still didn't know who I was, but I knew what I could do. I just needed to buy time, to close the space between Vernon and myself, to work into a position where I could gain the upper hand. I looked around, pretending to dart my eyes nervously though I was actually sizing up the hangar-sized room. My eyes traced coils of rope, levers, chains and pulleys. I had an idea, but I'd still have to close the gap.

  Slowly, I stepped out from around the crates so I presented a complete target to Wiley. He sneered under the brim of Kevin's top hat as he aimed the pistol at my forehead. I somehow knew that was good, that it decreased his chance of actually hitting me if he fired. In a flinching reaction, he'd more than likely fire high, the pistol—as heavy as I knew it was judging by the roar it made when Vernon fired—would buck hard in Wiley's scrawny arm. I, naturally, would move low. So, there was a good chance he'd miss me.

  I took a few steps closer and Vernon cocked his pistol. "That's close enough, Red. Yer really trying my patience." Then he smiled. "Me an' my boys got places to be and fish to catch, so who... will it be?"

  I looked down at Kevin and Maggie. Neither of them looked at me as I appeared to ponder the decision as to which one of them would die. Instead, Kevin looked up the barrel of Vernon's gun from where they huddled on the floor. He held his wife tight as Maggie cried into his shoulder. Kevin stared up red-eyed, jaw set in anguish and humiliation toward the pirate captain.

  "All right," I nodded. "Then I choose me."

  Wiley laughed. His pistol wavered. Elias Vernon laughed too, though he kept his pistol on Kevin and Maggie. Vernon said, "Oh, how noble." He bit his lower lip and sucked air through his teeth as his eyes took me in lecherously, looked me up and down as if my clothes were invisible. "You're a lovely piece o' work, ain't ya?"

  "I like to think so, but you ask
ed me to choose, Sir, and I choose to sacrifice myself and give you the doctor and nurse." I swallowed hard for effect and glanced to Wiley. "You know they'll be more useful to your crew than I would." I risked another two steps closer, slowly, my hands held higher in the air.

  Wiley responded by aiming lower, for my chest. Damn.

  Surprisingly, Vernon didn't tell me to stop or step back, but he did swing his pistol toward me. "All right, you want to be the one? Fine." He glanced to Maggie. "One piece o' tight cat is just as good as another, so don't matter much to me if it's you or the kitten here. Besides, I admit to bein' a bit turned on by her little pussycat whiskers," he said, touching the corner of his mouth with the barrel of the gun to indicate the tattoo Maggie wore.

  He lowered his pistol, then turned and took a few steps toward me.

  A countdown started in the back of my mind.

  Vernon stopped only a few feet away and closed the distance with his pistol arm as he raised it to point it between my eyes. "Goodbye, Red."

  Maggie screamed, then everything fell into slow motion.

  I kicked up with my left knee to give my body the leverage it would need to spring my right leg straight up and out. My foot punched sharply against the underside of Vernon's wrist, the impact opening his fingers and sending the large chrome weapon sailing through the air. With one of his arms up and the other one dangling uselessly, I followed-through quickly with a left hook to his jaw and a solid open-palm punch to his sternum. Elias Vernon was big, probably used to fights, and built as sturdy as a brick blockhouse. The fact he barely budged with my hits proved that, but the adage that claims bigger things fall harder was foremost in my mind.

  Judging by the rust on the pulley lever near the open hatch, I was counting on it.

  Vernon's gun clattered to the deck near Kevin. The traveling medicine man quickly squirmed out of his wife's grasp and dove toward it. At the same time, Wiley renewed his aim toward me, making his arm rigid and tensing his finger on the trigger, but he pulled his arm back when Vernon moved between us, blocking the shot.