“Nate, hold this one like this.” I sat up and tilted the blueprint off kilter. “Does it look familiar to you?”
He squinted at the blueprint and scowled. “Looks like that chamber in Geiger’s lab beneath Sterling’s factory in Limehouse.”
I chewed my lip. Geiger had been filling batteries with the very magic that bound Nate and his dog into one body and cursed him to be his own form by day and his dog by night before we managed to alter the magic within him with the second leywell on Molten Cay. Geiger had poured the magic from the batteries into his machine, some sort of chamber he then stepped into before the fire broke out. He should have died in the conflagration. I still remember his screams, high and thin, as the fire closed in. The terrible, echoing sound still gave me nightmares. Worse still was when we found he had not died, but was instead seeking admittance to the Explorer’s Society via his knowledge of ancient lore. Lore, magic, engineering, and now monsters conjured by flesh and blood and smoke. I shuddered. “What do you think he’s up to?”
“Damned if I know,” Nate muttered. “Geiger promised Cassatt more power and distance on less fuel, so Cassatt could save on coal. It would save him thousands on fuel costs.”
“That is why Cassatt agreed to work with him. He said as much.”
Nate scowled at another page. “What I can’t figure out is, what else is going on? Why is Geiger working with Cassatt? There’s something here about expansion and eminent domain. Geiger’s engines are designed to work best across long distances, not when there are short distances between stops. It’s an endurance engine. Cassatt authorized him to utilize their licensed eminent domain over their proposed routes, but they are having trouble moving beyond St. Louis.”
I poked my head outside the heavy curtain, but none of our carmates had returned to their sleeping sections. We were truly alone. I took both his hands in mine. “Nate, there is something you need to know.”
I considered telling him about the ruby but we had more pressing things to worry about at the moment and we could lose our privacy. “Geiger has a new ally. A monster. I’ve never seen anything like it, a dead thing conjured by dead men. He wants to make a slave of it. He’s mad if he thinks he can bend it to his will.” I took the plans, “I can’t figure out what this has to do with his monster but whatever he wants, it cannot be anything good.”
My husband wrapped his arm around me. I leaned against him and told him, all of it, all the details I could recall.
Nate finally nodded. “Geiger started working for Cassatt and Cassatt found a place he can’t pass. Those two things are connected. I’d bet our best horse. We’re going to find answers at the end of the line, maybe even Geiger himself.”
“That’s where we are headed.” I said, “Did they have this problem before or after Geiger made a promise to that monster?”
Nate set the papers back into the file. “Exactly.”
Chapter Seven
ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI WAS the end of the line for the Pennsylvania Railroad.
I had never realized how long travel by land actually took. I now had new appreciation for two things: the first was knowledge of how large America was and just how vital the railroads were to opening this land to travelers and moving goods from one coast to the other. The second, and perhaps the more surprising, was a grudging appreciation for air travel. In the Aura we would have crossed from Philadelphia to St. Louis in less than a day and it would not have included a truly fascinating study in the stubbornness of the spirit of American men intent on making money as we witnessed upon crossing a river they dubbed “the Mighty Mississippi.”
Due to their penchant for overstating things, I was certain this would be a river like our Thames, where ferrymen and porters fought over the best rates but secretly bonded together to keep prices in a range where every traveler would pay about the same. It was the way gentlemen did business, after all, very civilized and proper. It did little to help the common man other than to make sure graft and price gouging were kept manageable, because if one ferryman became too greedy the others would severely undercut him. It kept the prices in check.
For once, the American practice of overstating was groundless. If anything, the Mighty Mississippi was an understatement. Though I could see clearly to the other side, I had no desire to try to swim it; it had to be well over a thousand meters across.
“What is that?” Nate pointed at one of the two bridges standing like sentinels crossing the largest river I had ever seen.
I strained my eyes. As far as I could tell the bridge was a finely erected sculpture of sweeping arches of iron with large abutments sinking into the Mississippi River. It looked to be intact, though we were too far away to have a proper look. They were nearly twins, one in use, the other waiting for a turn.
“That?” The man across from us in the Club Car laughed so hard he had to wipe his eyes. “That was the great Eads Bridge.”
“Was?” Nate gave him a sideways look. “Whatever is wrong with it?”
“Nothing is wrong with it, per se.” He snorted and had to wipe his eyes. “It is a beauty to be sure, but it was not planned with the consent of the railway owners.”
“They didn’t approve?” I looked at the bridge again.
“Who knows, Mr. Eads and the Illinois and St. Louis Bridge Company didn’t ask them.” He had to stop he was laughing too hard. “You s-see nothing happens out here without the railroads. Eads offended them. And now they won’t use it.”
Nate failed to see the humor in it. “That beautiful bridge and they won’t use it?”
“It sits unused because he offended them. The banks that financed it went under and nearly everyone involved with the project lost everything. Don’t you people have a system of prickly lords and honor and all that?”
Nate had to concede his point. “I suppose so, but I would have expected some arrangement would have been made.”
“They did come to an arrangement: the railroad built a new bridge and made the people play by their rules! Oh, come now, don’t you Brits have a sense of humor?” The man gave Nate a hard clap on the shoulder.
“We do when something is funny,” Nate said dryly.
I excused myself to stand and watch the bridge as it faded from view. Having an expensive bridge sit without being used all because of an insult was ghastly. Americans were mostly new money. Knowing England’s history, the British were probably once that way, and I suppose some of the upper class were, still. And I should not bemoan new money, because Nate and I were as new money as one could get. Nearly as new as those making their fortunes in railway investments, even newer than some. But how did they forget who they were so easily?
The man might have found the fate of Ead’s bridge humorous, but it was more telling of the power the railroads wielded over the land and people. To build a bridge over a river as wide and powerful as the Mississippi was a great feat of engineering. The railroads knew this, and refusing to use Ead’s bridge because of an offense showed the prickly nature of the railroad owners. Like the lords of England, they would only respect men of strength. Or men they could use. Which was Geiger? Which were we?
We followed the press of passengers leaving the train through a tunnel made of glass and tile. The domed glass above us was lit with great windows, and even though I knew it was late, it was as bright as the afternoon.
There were two staircases, one led up to the street and darkness. The other led to heavy wooden doors and the HeadHouse, a luxurious hotel attached to the train station. Nate and I took the less crowded path, where a great wind met us between the rail station and the HeadHouse. The tile transitioned to wood floor and music wafted to my ears. Crossing the threshold had brought us to another place entirely.
“Good evening, sir. Check-in desk is ahead,” the doorman said.
We were in a grand foyer lit with new electric lighting. A wonder of wrought iron had been sculpted into a grand, swirling chandelier lit with hundreds of bulbs, tiny stars twinkling away above the s
weeping curves of the immense edifice. The room itself was a sea of glass and crystal, with glass and steel walls overlooking the train platforms but, if you looked carefully, you could see each pane of glass was two panes thick, one set before the other. This must have been horribly complicated, not to mention expensive to create, but the roaring rumble of the trains faded to a mere growl beneath the band that filled the ballroom with sweet, waltz-heavy music.
It was hard not to stare. No matter how often I saw electric lighting, I never got tired of it. It was one modern convenience we would never see in our country estate. London was rapidly joining the modern age, but there was no way to run electrics to our home.
The man behind the desk looked up from his reservation journal. “Welcome to the HeadHouse, the height of comfort of St. Louis Union Station.” He wore a fine suit, and his short blond hair was carefully combed and slicked back. He was quite the handsome man. His brilliant blue eyes were lined from smiling, and a warm, healthy tan kissed his skin from working outside. In America, it was a sign of manliness to be tan from hearty work, but back home it was a sign one was too poor to hire others for labor. Or, in the case of my Nate, the mark of an adventurer.
“We would like to rent a room,” Nate announced.
“We have several available,” the man said. “There are private rooms with a shared bath or there are suites. Those have private toilets and fireplaces rather than being heated by steam.
“A suite, please.”
“Very good, sir,” he said. “The suites are seventy dollars per month. That includes your meals, of course.”
“Of course,” Nate said, agreeably.
I flinched inside. It was still less expensive than being home and attending social gatherings where it was proper to provide gifts to the hosts. On the other hand, it was good to have a place to store our possessions while we attempted to figure out exactly what was keeping the railroad from expanding westward.
“You will be billed when you check out. Here is your key. Your beds will be turned down at nine in the evening and fires laid in your hearth.” He rang for a bellhop to take our bags to our room.
There was just enough time to unpack and dress for dinner.
The suite was decorated with cream wallpaper dotted with small, red roses with a dark purple stripe and an orange and green run in a sailor’s bird motif. Would wonders not cease in this hotel? They had the luxury of hot and cold taps in the private bath that also contained a washing tub large enough for me to sit in for a proper bath. There was also a private toilet and a mirror and sink for our exclusive use.
Despite my earlier distaste for red meat, I found my appetite kindling at the sight of dinner. I resolved to force the awful vision away and enjoy myself.
Our meal was a fine affair. A crystal vase set with flowers sat in the center of the table and our plates had napkins ironed and folded into triangles, then laid flat in the center of our plates like tiny envelopes. Each had several pieces of warm bread tucked within for us to nibble while we waited for dinner to be served.
Our first course was a fine chowder made of fish and sweet corn, followed by a sliced bison roast garnished with potatoes and asparagus. I was quite pleased with the dish. But if I liked it, then Nate was in love with it. He had three helpings and was nearly unable to have more than a bite of dessert, a rhubarb apple tart, decorated with a dusting of finely sifted sugar that made it look like it was covered in snow.
But as wonderful as the meal was, we were not on holiday. We needed to find Geiger as soon as possible. We needed to separate him from his monster and find a way to return the demon to wherever it had come from.
Geiger was cunning, and it was only luck that had helped us defeat him, before. Now, we needed intentional, even ruthless, planning. We returned to our room.
The maid had already been in, so the bed was turned down and a fire laid. Our room was warm and cheery.
Nate sat in the plush chaise, consumed by the thought of a faceless demon. I poured him a drink and squeezed in beside him with the file. Perhaps we could make more headway on the strange machine. Instead, the ruby in my pocket jammed painfully into his thigh and he squirmed away. He demanded to know what was in my pocket.
I surrendered it, my secret treasure that I had kept hidden for nearly a year. I should not have kept it from him. But, now it was too late and there was no worse time. I took a deep breath. He would never understand. I tipped the ruby, the size of a small bird’s egg and warm from my body, into his waiting palm.
“What is this?”
I did my best to sound innocent. “What is what?”
“This. What is this?” He was pale now. “Is this the ruby from China?”
I nodded. “Now, Nate, don’t be cross—”
“Don’t be cross.” Nate let out a strange sound I had never heard before, something between choking on dry bread and an airy chuckle. “Is this the ruby from the center of the key from China?”
Every word was measured and slow. For one moment, he was a stranger. I reached out to him, but he batted my hand away. “We told the Explorer’s Society we could not find the dragon, that the arrow of Hou Yi was a myth, a fairy tale.”
“It’s just a trinket,” I stammered.
“No, Vivian!” He slammed his glass down, raining the untouched bourbon and shattered glass across the gaudy carpet. “The tiny jade dragon, the coins in my study—those are trinkets. The Explorer’s Society would be within their rights to shun us for this. They could use this as proof we are lying about the arrow, and the dragon, and Prince Qixiang. All of it!”
“Nate, I’m sorry.”
His voice cracked. He grabbed a towel from the washstand and wrapped it around his fist. The shattered glass had gashed his palm. “We keep secrets from so many people, Viv, why are you keeping them from me?” The awful strain of the journey, so far, had taken its toll. He sat on the edge of the chaise, his hand bleeding into his lap.
“Because you died there,” I said.
“What?”
I burst into tears, because saying it had made it true. He died there. It was truth, or what would have been truth if Xihuan-Lung had been raised. It was another horrible turn of the wheel. That damnable Wheel of Fortune. It was the only Tarot symbol that consumed all of me. I was bound to it as if I were a parody of the Vitruvian Man —a Vitruvian Vivian—stretched to the wheel as it moved me through my life. Except, all our turns had been awful turns of fate lately: no baby, my father falling ill and dying, our tenants on the verge of starvation as their crops rotted in the field from too much rain. I chose to take the ruby, but I did it to save us from a worse fate. My vision had been unclear, but it had been truthful and even a glimpse of it was enough. I would have died to prevent it. “Y-you died there.”
He had to think I was mad. I reached for the ruby, I just wanted to hold it. If it was safe in my hand, then it was not in the key and Xihuan-Lung could not be raised. I would have to settle with it being in Nate’s hand for now. He would not give it to me, of that I was certain. The coals in the hearth were nearly the same color, and it soothed me. I turned to them instead.
“We found Xihuan-Lung—all of us, you and me, Lum and Barrett and Charlotte and Mr. Quinn—and they pulled the arrow out of her bones. Hou Yi’s enchanted arrow keeps her dead. She is dead but not forever dead. If the arrow is removed, she comes back. We were in her body looking at her and she started to come back, like rotting away but in reverse. And she is so evil, so broken; Hou Yi killed her because he had to. She was hunting us; Xihuan-Lung killed all of us. And you turned into your canithrope form to protect me, but she burned you, Nate, and you were dying. There was nothing I could do.
“So, I had the key and when Prince Qixiang’s soldiers caught up with us I shattered it and I kept the ruby. Not to sell it. Never to sell it. But it is a part of the key to the valley where Xihuan-Lung’s bones lie. If no one can assemble them, no one can get to her and pull out the arrow and you are safe.”
He
snatched my hands. “Vivian!”
My face and hands were hot, uncomfortably so. I had nearly reached into the fire where the coals were glowing merrily. I blinked hard. It was beautiful in a way, like fire and blood and life all in one. I had no doubt that was the reason the monks chose the ruby to be the center of the key to the resting place of Xihuan-Lung and the arrow of Hou Yi. She had been there, a creature masquerading as a human woman. I took the dragon’s tooth from her. I should have told Nate all of it before now.
Nate pulled me away from the fire and into his lap. I gratefully set my forehead against his. His skin was cool under my fire warmed skin. “Just answer me this.” Nate set the ruby into my hand. It fit perfectly into my palm. I squeezed it until my fingers throbbed. “Is it the only piece I don’t know about?”
“No,” I said quietly, “MeiLin followed me to Xihuan-Lung’s resting place. When I was breaking Xihuan-Lung apart and moving the bones just in case we failed, I took one bone of her neck to the river.”
Nate nodded, the soul of patience once again.
“MeiLin was kneeling by the dragon’s head. At first, I didn’t know what she took but in my—” I paused, unsure to call it a vision or a dream or a nightmare.
“She took something?” Nate pressed.
I blinked at him. When Xihuan-Lung came alive, MeiLin promised Xihuan-Lung she could burn the world, she only wanted one thing—now we know she wanted the fox pelt YaMing had stolen given back to her. But, MeiLin promised to destroy the arrow only after she got what she wanted. If Xihuan-Lung did not do what she wanted, then MeiLin promised she would put Hou Yi’s arrow back into her and she would be dead for all eternity.
“She took one of Xihuan-Lung’s teeth, probably to force the dragon to help her get her fox skin back. I made MeiLin give it to me in exchange for the final piece of her skin.”
The Rail Specter Page 6
