“Aww,” Thomas groaned as he regained consciousness. He sat up and spit blood and mucus out onto the now slick floor. “I’m sorry, but you should never have seen this.”
Sampson grabbed the whiskey bottle from the table and poured a glass. When he handed it to him, Thomas grabbed it with his normal arm, gulped it down, and thrust it back at Sampson.
“More, please,” he gasped. “Where’s Jonathan? I need to speak to him.”
Samuel squatted down next to him. “He’s in DC for the night. Now, don’t you think you should tell us what the hell is going on?” he demanded.
Thomas shook his head. “No. It’s safer that you don’t know any more than you do.”
The house manager poured another glass and handed it to the injured man. “I think we are past that, Mr. Rochester.”
“Aye, laddie. Mr. Sampson has the right of it.” Andrew worked to remove the blood, dirt, and swatches of fabric that were wedged into Thomas’s flesh, picking debris out of the gears and the chest plates though he was careful not to touch the loose cables.
Thomas leaned against the chair and sighed. “Tillenghast must have found out I was planning to leave the country and hired thugs to bring me back. Fortunately, they were not well informed about my capabilities.”
“Ah, that explains the money in the Liberty Row bank.” Samuel stood up and loomed over the hurt man, frowning. “You could have told us and not made up a story about gambling debts.”
Thomas arched an eyebrow at him, wincing at the effort. “There was no reason to have any of you involved.”
“Well, it’s too late for that.” Samuel grabbed a nearby chair and sat down.
Thomas set the glass down on the floor. “There’s no going back once you know.”
Samuel clasped his hands together. “We can’t protect ourselves if we don’t know the truth.”
Thomas nodded. The words came out haltingly at first, then sped up as if the desire to talk outweighed his fear. “I liked working for Tillenghast. He gave me everything he promised. My own department to design and create the new era of flight. I had total control and little interference from any of the family. Even Hal and I got along. As outliers, we were natural partners in crime, so to speak. We had a good time.” Thomas sipped his whiskey again. “There were rumors about what House Tillenghast had done before and during the House Wars. Horrible, vile things, all in the name of their House and the Great States of America. I never believed any of them. Like most, I thought it was propaganda. Stories to terrorize their enemies. Until we demolished an old building to build a hanger.” Thomas shuddered as if the memory were still fresh. “The men called me over when they found their first set of human remains. Then another and another. It had to be an old cemetery they’d forgotten to mark, but when I looked at the bones and decaying bodies, I saw they weren’t quite right.”
Samuel frowned. “What do you mean?”
Thomas flinched as if remembering a bad memory. “They were altered. Holes in their chests where their hearts should have been. Remnants of mechanical devices grafted into bones. Missing limbs. Mostly men, but maybe a few women as well.”
Andrew took all of this in without comment while Sampson turned pale.
“Mr. Rochester, there must be a logical explanation for what you saw.” Sampson scowled. “I have a hard time believing a Great House would use its employees in such a manner.”
The memory of what the Great Houses were capable of drove the darkness Samuel tried to contain to the surface, squeezing his heart. He realized he was holding his breath and forced himself to relax. He shoved the hate and pain out of his mind until it felt like an echo of a memory. There were more important things to deal with right now than his own failings. “You are very fortunate to have worked for Jonathan all these years, Sampson. Most Houses are not as forgiving, old man.”
Thomas nodded. “We boxed up what the men had found to show to the operations manager, assuming he’d give us a reasonable explanation. But when we arrived at the site the next day, the boxes were gone and where the men had dug, a new foundation had been poured. The manager who had approved of demolishing the building disappeared, and the men who worked on it changed from a normal crew to a bunch of nervous and paranoid workers. Everyone was looking over their shoulders, including myself. I thought it was my imagination.” Thomas sighed. “Then there was the accident. I was told later that a spark ignited one of the hydrogen cells due to arcing and faulty insulation.”
“Oh, hell,” Samuel spat out. “They tried to kill you and failed.”
Thomas grimaced as Andrew bandaged his wounds. “I woke up to the smiling face of a woman I’d never seen before nor was ever introduced to, but I believe . . .” He lifted the metal arm a few inches off the ground before letting it drop down with a loud thump. “That I have her to thank for this.”
“That must have cost a pretty penny,” Andrew remarked.
Samuel pursed his lips. “You’re an investment now. And Tillenghast likes to keep tabs on his investments. So he made Hal your watchdog.”
“Maybe yes, maybe no,” Thomas replied. “I asked Tillenghast if I could accompany Hal on this trip. I told him I’d keep Hal out of trouble. But yes, Hal may have suspected I was going to run and betrayed me.” Thomas used his metal arm to prop himself up as he struggled to stand. “I can’t stay here.”
“No, you can’t. But I’m not sure there’s any place you can hide from him forever.” Samuel shifted on the chair. “You’d be running for the rest of your life.”
“Why don’t the lad do what most of the Irish and the Negroes do?” Andrew asked.
All three men stopped and stared at the Irishman.
“We be hiding in plain sight.” Andrew chuckled. “No one takes notice of us unless we make it a point to be noticed. Or we be in a place we don’t belong.”
“So he should go to Liberty Row?”
Andrew shrugged. “Or somewhere like it. Change your name, clothes, and start acting like everyone else. No one will care about you unless you get in their way. But I’m afraid your days of wearing fancy clothes are over, laddie.”
“Have you done any other work?” Samuel asked. “What can that arm do?”
Thomas lifted his mechanical arm about a foot of the ground. The gears whined as the remaining cables jerked it up, then he slammed it into the floor, crumbling the wood beneath it.
Stunned, Andrew, Sampson, and Samuel stared at him and the floor.
Sampson recovered first. “May I suggest boxing, sir.”
The remark got a chuckle from everyone.
Samuel smiled grimly. Laughter always drove his personal demons farther out of his mind. “Let’s put you into one of the servant’s quarters for the night. Sampson?”
Sampson took Thomas by his good arm, but Andrew stepped in. “Just point me in the right direction. And we’ll get to work getting some clothes on you.”
Thomas closed his eyes and sighed as they exited.
Samuel watched as the men hobbled out. He motioned for the house manager to follow him.
“Sir?”
“We need to contact Jonathan as soon as possible. Can you or his secretary find him?”
“I’ll get a hold of Mr. Evans then telephone and send a courier.”
“And please inform the staff that Thomas left when Hal did.”
“Understood, Mr. Hunter. I will pack up his things.”
“Be sure to burn his clothes and all his possessions. Thomas Rochester no longer exists. I’ll take care of creating a new identity for him.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Damn it!” Samuel realized he had forgotten something very important. “I was supposed to join Elizabeth for dinner.”
“I’m sure she’s asleep, sir. There’s no need to worry.”
Samuel clapped him on the shoulder. “Of course. Thank you. Sampson. Now, let’s get to work.”
***
Elizabeth floated in the psychic abyss, unafraid and relaxed. The
region’s complete lack of light or substance no longer frightened her but gave her a sense of peace and freedom. She did not want to leave. Not long after she had those thoughts, she chided herself for wallowing in this safe place when she knew Rachel needed her help. She concentrated on the image of the trinity knot, and its reflection appeared far off in the distance. It faded in and out of view as if a fine mist passed over it. She willed herself forward, finding she had arrived in what one might consider a blink of an eye even in a place where time might not exist. She reached her hand out to touch the knot only to have a brick wall construct itself in front of her. Startled, she yanked her hand back.
This could only mean one thing: Rachel did not want to be contacted.
Her mentor was trying to protect her, but her life and all those who had been kidnapped depended on Elizabeth finding out where they were. It was time for everyone to stop shielding her and for her to embrace her abilities to their fullest.
Her body had no real form here yet Elizabeth could sense it. Rachel had taught her she should always imagine having a body in this limbo so her mind had something to center on. Elizabeth pulled back her arm and thrust it forward with the palm open, imagining she was pushing the wall down. It wavered, but otherwise the effort had no effect. She tried again using both arms. This time she blasted a few chinks out of the wall, but it remained standing. Frustrated, Elizabeth realized couldn’t do this alone.
She needed the emissary.
There was a shift in the fluidity of the spirit passageway as though the air had been sucked out then shoved back in the space of an instant. She whirled around to see the image of a man outlined with stars, his body a miasma of emerald green and mauve. The sight made her head hurt, but she was so enthralled she didn’t consider what it might mean.
“You came!”
The emissary pointed toward the wall.
“Yes. I’m trying to get to Rachel. She needs our help.”
He stepped closer to her and offered his arm. The act sent a thrill through her she had never experienced before. Without hesitation she took it.
She couldn’t feel it, but the miasma flowed like a snake over and around her forearm and hand. As they stood in front of the wall, the emissary raised his arm and pointed at the only thing between them and Rachel. A surge of power ran through her. Out of the palm of her hand, a blinding white light flowed, melting the wall as if it were thick, molten honey. The emissary withdrew his spectral form from hers and gestured for her to go forward to where the trinity knot glistened like it was brand new.
Elizabeth wavered, savoring the remnants of the power that still lingered in her psyche. If one could breathe in the abyss, it would have stopped her heart.
The emissary motioned again, but with greater urgency.
“Thank you.”
Elizabeth faced the trinity knot. “Rachel! I’m coming!” In her mind’s eye, she imagined herself merging with the image and pushing through it to reach the Irish woman’s mind. As she exited the abyss into what she hoped was Rachel’s psyche, Elizabeth felt a sharp pain and a tug in her neck, like she had been pinched by a brooch. She reached back to feel if something was there but was distracted by the force of her entry into Rachel’s mind.
The medium and the other victims were screaming.
With her eyes still covered, Elizabeth could tell that Rachel had been forced to her feet and was being whipped by an unknown assailant.
“Shut the hell up! You’re nothing but trouble. The whole lot of you!”
She recognized the voice of the man who had shrouded Rachel’s eyes when she was last there. The medium dropped to her knees in anguish. For Elizabeth, it felt like every lash was on her own body.
“There be your proper place.” The man put his foot on her back and shoved her to the ground.
“I won’t cause any more trouble. I promise,” Rachel pleaded.
He leaned forward, his onion breath wafting over her. “No, ye won’t. Not after he’s done with you.” The man grabbed her arm, yanked her up, and threw her on the bed. He tied her up again, making sure the ropes dug into her flesh. “Now stop messing with their heads and quiet them down, or I’ll start cutting off bits.”
The other victims turned eerily silent. Elizabeth could hear them shuffle off. Their cots creaked as they lay down.
He kicked Rachel’s cot then marched off in a huff. Elizabeth waited so long for Rachel to say something, she feared the medium did not know she was there. She was wrong.
“You stupid girl. You shouldn’t have come back,” Rachel whispered. “I still don’t know where we be at, but I think it be on the South Side. Must be a warehouse on the wharf.”
Elizabeth heard a door open then close.
“They be moving us soon. Don’t know where, but the other one—the medium. He’s powerful. Stay away from him. He controls the lot of us. Including me.”
Rachel took deeps breaths through the rank cloth that covered her face, then froze. “Wait. There be someone with you.” Elizabeth felt the medium twist at her bindings. “Oh, no. Get it away.” Her voice rose in a panic. “Elizabeth! Get it away!” she yelled.
The door opened again. “Stop yer hollering or I’ll beat you again.”
“I’ll take care of it,” the voice of the younger, educated man echoed across the room.
Terrified that he might confront her again, Elizabeth fled Rachel’s mind. As she did, an ethereal presence swept past her. It did not touch her, but skimmed through her mind and into Rachel’s. Something about it was familiar and comforting, yet she could have sworn she heard Rachel cry out like a wounded animal.
Elizabeth opened her eyes to find herself back in her bedroom. The pain in her hand snapped her out of the trance. She held it up to see that the trinity knot she held had burned her palm and left an imprint. Elizabeth jumped out of bed, knowing she would have to bandage it before Samuel came up. Fearing that Rachel might have been seriously injured, she decided that this time she was going to tell him everything.
When she got to the landing, Elizabeth saw the lights had been turned down for the evening. There was no movement, so she assumed the servants had gone to bed. She hurried down the stairs to see if Samuel was still in the library. Not finding him there, she headed toward the kitchen. Three flights of stairs later, the only thing she found were a few wet kitchen towels.
Alone and exhausted, Elizabeth climbed up the stairs to her room. Samuel must have gotten a lead on the case or else her father needed him for something. There was no other reason he would leave without telling her.
By the time she got back to her room, Elizabeth staggered through the door and shut it behind her. As she walked past her vanity mirror on her way to bed, she thought she saw a pinpoint of emerald green-and-mauve miasma swirling deep within her eyes. Elizabeth stopped and stared at the mirror, but saw nothing unusual.
“My eyes are playing tricks on me now,” she said out loud, as she lurched over to her bed and fell into it, falling asleep almost instantly.
19
Jonathan stood on the train platform with his four guardsmen the next morning. By the time the committee meeting had concluded last night, the last train with a Great House car attached had already left. Not willing to risk his safety or his guardsmen, he’d decided to stay the night at his DC apartment. He had informed Mr. Evans, who would call Sampson.
A wooden awning covered the entire platform, and benches were placed equidistance apart from each other flush against the station. Cast-iron hexagonal lampposts stood guard at the edges to light the area during the evening hours. Jonathan sat in a roped-off section set aside for Great House passengers. There was a separate class for Middle District and foreign tourists, but they never shared the same car with the families of the Great Houses. Associates were allowed to ride with family members if invited, but even they were relegated and often more comfortable riding with others of their class.
All the Great House train cars were equipped with reinforced iron walls
and had guns mounted on the top and were checked at odd intervals for explosives and any tampering with the brakes or other vital mechanical parts. Jonathan liked the separate cars because they were quiet and allowed him to get work done. They also made him wary as they were a big fat target even though they were armed and guarded by his own House and the federal government. It was the latter that worried him.
As he watched the crowd milling about, Jonathan thought about Mekonnen and the other passengers on the airship that had gone down. It occurred to him that whoever had done that would not lose any sleep over destroying an entire train to kill him. But was Tillenghast behind this or was there a new player?
The blast of a steam engine approaching distracted him from his thoughts long enough to check his watch. The train was right on time.
The engine pulled past him and stopped at the platform. Several federal agents inspected it alongside his own security team. They were all very thorough and professional, but it felt wrong. Maybe he was getting paranoid, but perhaps not.
He heard yelling in the distance. A telegraph agent ran at him full tilt.
“Mr. Weldsmore! Mr. Weldsmore!” he yelled.
Jonathan panicked for a moment, thinking something had happened to Elizabeth.
The agent handed the telegram to him. He ripped it open to find a message from Mr. Evans. It read, “Mrs. Owen burnt your breakfast and is unable to cook more. You’ll have to eat elsewhere.”
Working to maintain a nonchalance he didn’t feel, Jonathan folded the paper up and placed it in his pocket. “Sawyer,” he spoke to the nearest guardsmen.
“Sir.”
“Get a car. We’re heading over to the Du Pont’s residence.”
The man jogged off to do as ordered without question.
His nerves and muscles tightened to a fever pitch, Jonathan nodded at a few passersby as he exited the holding area and headed toward where the better taxis were lined up. He would have had one of his own cars here, but hadn’t bothered since it was supposed to be such a short trip. Now he regretted that decision. Indeed, regret might be an understatement. His life might depend on it.
Boston Metaphysical Society Page 20
