Mechanical Angel

by Sara Shanning

  “He went to the highest bidder,” Copper said tearfully, her beautiful eyes haunted. She had curled into herself in the corner of the sofa. “It is how I died. A man won me and I lived only a few days before he broke me forever.”

  Alel slid down the cushions and gathered the girl in her arms. “I won’t let that happen,” she promised fiercely. “No matter what it takes, I will do everything in my power to get Euro back.”

  The whir of the door startled them. Alel barely held back a gasp, darting a look toward B33 and Dys, who had already taken their attention from their task. Creatures piled on top of the box-shaped contraption the two had been bent over, effectively hiding it.

  A robot she did not recognize entered, its cold silver eyes seeking Alel. “Sir Jax has requested your presence.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “I am to bring you, despite whatever struggle may ensue.”

  Alel glared at the inhuman adaptation. Her recent conversation with B33 reminded her the thing could be a thinking, feeling man beneath his metal form, but if he was doing Sir Jax’s bidding, she disliked him on principle.

  She gave Copper a gentle squeeze and released her. B33 rolled close and gave her the slightest of nods. Alel knew he would continue to work when she was gone.

  The robot said not a word as it led her to a room she had not been in before. There was a half-circle of overstuffed chairs along one wall and across from it, a stage, complete with gates, now open, to confine whatever was being displayed there.

  Fighting a rise of bile, Alel stopped. The robot took her arm, its grip hard and strong. She would fail if she tried to pull away.

  No one else was currently in the room. “Please, if you have your mind, don’t do this,” Alel pleaded with her captor as she was tugged toward the stage. “Do you have a conscience? Do you know this is not right?”

  “I am programmed to do as Sir Jax orders. Your pleas will not dissuade me.”

  She was pushed into the one chair placed at the center of the stage. There were bindings on the arms and legs. Horrified, she looked up, prepared to beg, but the robot was closing the gate. She would not be bound.

  Rising, she went to the bars, holding the eyes with her own. “Does your heart not beat? Tell me the truth. Do you have one?”

  “I am a machine. I have no heart.”

  “Let me out,” Alel ordered.

  “Sir Jax is my Master.”

  It left her. Alel pulled at the bars, knowing it was useless, but needing to feel like she had tried all she could. When the door opened again and Sir Jax came in she retreated to the back wall. He was followed by three men, one of whom was Sir Sion.

  The group took the chairs, their eyes studying her. Her anger only mounted under their scrutiny.

  “She is bruised,” one said. He had the eyes of the Gold bloodline and wore clothing to enhance the color.

  “She does not hold her tongue,” Sir Sion responded coldly.

  “Hmm, I do so enjoy taming them,” the last said with anticipation. His hair was dark and oiled back beneath his top hat. He wore all black, which struck her as odd.

  Sir Jax walked to the bars, his eye flat of affect. He clasped his hands behind his back as he observed her. “She is rare and priceless, but I am willing to consider offers. I have decided to seek another Relic to have as my own. One more pure and... unblemished.” The last word was frigid and mocking.

  He was trying to punish her. Alel lifted her chin. She walked slowly to the center of the stage, making a resolution to fell the man’s pride.

  “I am Relic, Sir Jax. If you think you can break me, you are mistaken. My bloodline is far stronger than your watery, blue-eyed line.”

  A story her mother had told her once came to mind. Of the man she had spun many a tale around. Passionate and intense, the man had called forth things from deep inside of him and brought them to light, swaying others to unite with him, until an army had been created. One who had fought an uprising and won.

  “You believe yourself to be most intelligent. Using your creations and land and wealth to control others and hold them in fear. You are blind, Sir Jax. Discontent, unsatisfied, and empty.”

  His temper was growing. The men behind him were watching the exchange curiously. Alel knew she had their attention. What she wanted was to make them view Sir Jax in a different light.

  “What would you be without your minion robots to spy on others? Would the townspeople revolt once they knew they were no longer watched and you were unguarded? How many men and women have you angered, tormented, blackmailed?”

  Going to the bars, Alel curled her hands around them and put her face within inches of Sir Jax’s. “Would they turn on you?” she said, low for effect, but just quietly enough she knew all of them would hear her.

  “I’ll give you my shares of the Black Streets,” the man claiming he enjoyed the taming said.

  Sir Sion snorted, but his eyes did not sway from her and Alel saw fear lurking. Of her. She smiled at him, a slow, menacing smile meant to make him wonder what powers she held.

  “I’ll give you an arm or a leg for her, if that’s what you want. Anything. She is fascinating and quite terrifying,” the last man said. “What a thing to possess! Can you imagine! She is unlike anything in my collection. Sir Jax, make me like her.”

  Chapter 20

  The Power of Relic

  Sir Jax blinked several times, drawing in a long breath.

  Alel deliberately looked down her nose at him with a smirk.

  It was highly possible she would pay for her words and actions later, but she had accomplished what she wanted. It was obvious from the men’s statements and the look in Sir Sion’s eyes that she had garnered fear. Sir Jax had done nothing. She had been in control. Even if it was only for awhile.

  Proving she could take it for even a small bit would plant a seed. She could hope the men would take what they had witnessed and talk about it and give life to the flame of rumor.

  “She is not for sale today.” Sir Jax’s voice was reserved. “There are many others waiting eagerly for their chance.”

  “Outside of the Cabal?” The question was full of outrage at the concept.

  Alel was not about to miss another chance. She trailed her hand over the bars, letting the soft thunk draw their attention. “Do you see how easily he betrays you? For the chance of obtaining something more? No loyalty. No care for what he possesses.” She reached up to twirl a strand of hair. Their eyes were drawn like flies to butter.

  “He doesn’t need your credit, or your ores, or your mines. Sir Jax doesn’t need you at all.”

  “Stop.” Alel did not take her attention from the men, despite the curious tremor in Sir Jax’s voice.

  An idea, at once terrifying and risky came to her. She leaned as close to the bars as she could. “What if I chose? A Relic, declaring for all to hear who is worthy of me.” She stretched out an arm through the bars, stroked her finger down the velvet sleeve of the man who had offered an appendage. “Think of how everyone would look at you if I chose you. You would be revered. Favored. More powerful than any other to have gained the attention of a Relic.”

  She watched the idea flare in the man’s eyes. Greed. A quick glance around showed the same in the others eyes. They wanted what she was proposing.

  Alel raised her fingers to the man’s jaw, a soft touch, enough to make his mouth drop open. His topaz eyes were wide. “I’ll, of course, need to learn who will protect me.”

  From the corner of her eye, she could see Sir Jax shaking his head, looking very troubled.

  “I’ll give you anything you want,” the man with the golden eyes said with conviction.

  The man all in black gave his cohort a sharp look, moving forward to claim her attention. “If we truly must earn your choice, you cannot be swayed by empty promises. Give us obtainable tasks. Affection is fleeting. Trust is earned.”

  Alel arched a brow and pulled her arm back in, relaxing her body and folding her hands
in front of her. “Sir Sion struck me. Sir Jax holds me prisoner.”

  It was a test. One she did not mean to flesh out. If the men left and her plan did not work, it was possible Sir Jax would kill her. Or the children. Alel saw no other option but to feed the bright fear in his eyes as he edged away at her words, moving toward the door.

  Sir Sion did not follow. His scowl was fierce, his shoulders were tense and he gripped his cane like he intended to use it on her.

  The man in black shifted. His movements were quick, sure and practiced. A flash of silver metal caught the sun before it was plunged deep into Sir Sion’s belly. Alel held herself still, utilizing every ounce of her will to tamp down the shock and horror. She had not expected murder.

  A handkerchief was taken from a pocket of the black suit as Sir Sion crumbled to his knees, his eyes wide and fixed on her. A trickle of blood trailed out of his mouth. Alel could not tear her eyes from the slow red trickle staining his skin as it flowed. A horrible smear against her favorite color.

  The knife was cleaned and tucked away. Dark blue eyes sought hers. “Sir Sion shall never harm you again. Let this be the first show of my willingness to earn your approval. My name is Sir Vyeck. Do not forget it.”

  He looked toward the door. Sir Jax was gone.

  Knowing any sign of hesitation or disgust would be a mistake, Alel forced herself to nod graciously. “My gratitude at your attempt to keep me safe, Sir Vyeck.”

  Alel looked at the other man. “And your name?”

  “Sir Lesin.” He began to move in a flurry, pulling at the gate holding her. “There must be a key,” he muttered.

  “You’ll need the robot who answers to Sir Jax. He locked me up. Be careful,” she warned. “Under Sir Jax’s command, neither of you may leave the grounds alive. He has an army of machines at his disposal.”

  “The man is a coward,” Sir Vyeck snapped. “He has fled. And we are not without our own power.”

  Sir Lesin left the room, leaving Alel alone with a man she thought possibly more violent than Sir Sion. Menace simmered below his demeanor. She wondered if he carried a flask in one of his inner pockets. Well dressed as he was, he would still fit in perfectly on the black streets.

  “I found this one,” Sir Lesin said, following B33 into the room. Alel held back a sigh of relief.

  B33 had the gate open in less than a minute and offered his hand. Gratefully, Alel squeezed the hard metal, knowing B33 couldn’t feel it, but needing the comfort his trustworthy presence gave.

  “Gentlemen, I shall prepare my requests on the morrow. It has been an exhausting day. If you will allow me to retire?”

  “You are not concerned about Sir Jax?” Sir Lesin inquired.

  “I saw Sir Jax leave with bags in his carriage only minutes ago,” B33 reported. “He seemed in a very big hurry.”

  “He wouldn’t dare try anything,” Sir Vyeck straightened his coat and hat. “The man knows the Cabal will band together and seek him out once word of what has transpired spreads. He has fled to preserve his life. It was what I would have done.”

  Alel accompanied the men to the door, allowing them to bend over her hand as they bid her good-bye. The moment both of the carriages had started down the road, she turned to B33.

  “We must reprogram as many machines as we can. Can it be done?”

  “I will get help. There are many other creations such as myself who know Sir Jax is wicked and you are good. Go to the children. They are frightened.”

  Later, Alel lay awake on the sofa in the sitting area of the children’s room. B33 had thought her safer there and had placed guards at the door. Sir Vyeck would return and demand her requirements. She could not give the man a reason to claim her. A plan had formed by the time she allowed herself to close her eyes and seek sleep.

  She only hoped it was the right choice.

  Chapter 21

  Terms of Victory

  The necklace hung around her neck, the smooth metal warm in the sun.

  B33 had worked throughout the night and accomplished much. Dys worked with him now, ensuring none of Sir Jax’s creations would bring harm to anyone.

  Sir Jax had failed in his arrogance to put a safeguard on any of his inventions to keep others out. B33 had reported it was easy, but time-consuming to reprogram each working machine. Dys had announced with a satisfied grin that he had added to the programming to ensure loyalty remained with Alel.

  There was still the matter of Sir Sion’s body to be dealt with, and B33 had been vague about Sir Jax’s in-progress experiment, citing he needed more time to investigate.

  Alel now stood at the finished birdcage, complete with mechanical creatures happily flying about and alighted in the trees. It was impossible to know how many birds Sir Jax had scattered about the town. Nor had B33 been sure if Sir Jax was a landowner anywhere else. His reach was no doubt far and Alel did not discount the possibility he had friends willing to take him in, or seek revenge.

  They had sent out their own birds to search for Euro. She had done all she knew how to do.

  Soon, Sir Vyeck would arrive, demanding her conditions for the chance to own her. Alel thought she was ready.

  Sir Vyeck wore all black again. The textures and style of his clothing were different, as was his top hat and cane, but he bore the same simmering violence in his eyes as he bowed over her hand and accepted the tea she offered.

  “I trust your night was calm?”

  Alel had determined she would portray a front of confidence and superiority in front of this man. She cocked her head at his question, regarding him coldly. “I am well protected. Sir Jax’s... creatures... are loyal to me.”

  As if on cue, B33 rolled in. “Miss Alel, I have completed the task you assigned me. May I be of further assistance?”

  “As I wish there to be no confusion as to my terms, I would like you to stay, B33. Record this conversation in case there is a need to reference it later.”

  “Ah, you do not trust me?”

  “Should I?” Alel demanded with disdain. She sipped at her tea. “I am not so feeble of mind to assume things of your character,” she added matter-of-factly.

  She set her mug down and chose a seat across from the man. “Sir Vyeck, do not be mistaken, these terms will be given to anyone I choose to share them with. Let us begin. Sir Jax took something from me; a boy, Euro? Perhaps you were present with the rest of the Cabal?”

  Surprise flickered in his eyes. He hadn’t been expecting her knowledge. Pleased, Alel arched an eyebrow impatiently.

  “I was,” he acknowledged.

  “I want him back, safe and unharmed. This is my first demand. He was placed under my care and then taken from it. I do not take my duties lightly. If your word is not kept, what worth is there in speaking further at all?”

  Sir Vyeck indicated acquiescence. “What else?”

  “Without the first, there can be no others.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You mean to make this a race. If those are your terms, whoever returns the boy to you should be declared the winner immediately.”

  “On the contrary, I have just told you the mechanical creatures here answer to me. They will be watching.” She leaned forward. “The one who puts the boy back into my care will have an advantage, yes, but are you not trying to gain the same thing by any means necessary? You cannot fault me when you yourself play the same games.”

  A76 came in through the door. “A carriage approaches, Miss Alel. Shall I ask your caller to return at a later time?”

  “No. You may show them in.”

  Sir Vyeck stood. “It seems I must get started then. Time is of the essence.”

  Alel walked with the man to the door, stepping outside with him. She held back her reaction when she saw her new visitor was Sir Javon. He did not look happy. His strong features struck her, making it difficult to look away from the set of his jaw and the vividness of his eyes, made more so by the storm of emotion.

  At her side, Sir Vyeck tensed. “What is he doin
g here?”

  “I imagine the same as you,” Sir Javon snapped. “I had already declared my intent to Sir Jax, and here you are, placing yourself in a position to steal her from me.”

  “I’m surprised you’re interested at all, Sir Javon. I have never known you to show an interest in any woman.”

  “She is not any woman, now is she? She is Relic.”

  “So you have proved yourself the same as the rest of us. Descending like a vulture on prey? Your tastes apparently are finer than I realized.”

  “High standards demand perfection.”

  Sir Vyeck laughed, a hollow sound mingled with mockery and appreciation. “I have learned more about you in these moments than I have in years.” The man bowed low before Sir Javon, sweeping his hat just above the ground in a grand gesture. His nod toward her new arrival was respectful as he bid her good day and gained the driver’s seat in his carriage.

  “Are you mad, Alel?” Sir Javon questioned the moment the door closed behind them. “These men are dangerous! I despise their games and I have yet again broken one of my own personal rules; depicting myself as heartless as they. What is it about you that tempts me to lower my moral criterion for you?”

  His words inspired both guilt and pleasure. Her schemes as she had fallen asleep had been infested with the man. She had attempted clumsily to pray again, pleading for her heart to at least be in the right place, even if her actions made her hate herself.

  It was for Euro and the other children she built her intentions.

  He reached out, his fingers warm and a whisper over her cheek. “Why is your cheek bruised?”

  Wanting the minutes it took to make tea to calm the effect he played on her emotions, Alel put space between them, taking her time mixing herbs and steeping them in hot water. B33 remained, quiet at the end of the table.

  A metal bluebird soared into the room, rotating once before finding her shoulder.