by Lynn Viehl
The morgue attendant muttered several more, vile words as he brought over a tray of instruments and thumped them down beside the body. “What do you think you’ll see?” he said as he picked up a metal depressor and wedged it in between the body’s snarling lips.
“That.” I nodded at the double rows of gleaming brass teeth.
“Blind me,” Dez breathed, peering at the Wolfman’s ghastly choppers. “I never seen the like of it.”
“Can you tilt his head back?” I asked, trying to look behind the top row of brass fangs.
“He’s too stiff now, but . . .” The attendant gnawed at his lip before he pushed the body to the edge of the table until the head hung over. “That should be enough to see something.”
I tilted my head to get a better angle. “There’s something attached to the roof of his mouth.” I reached for a pair of narrow tongs on the tray and used them to extract a flattened pocket of thin hide. When I placed it on the table, blood began to ooze from it.
“You were right.” Dredmore regarded the extraction. “But why blood?”
I set down the tongs. “I don’t know.” I saw the blood from the hide pocket creeping toward the dead Wolfman’s arm, where a wound made an ugly gash across the flesh. On impulse I picked up the pocket and emptied it onto the wound.
A few moments later the three of us stared at the arm, which now appeared whole.
“Blood that heals,” I murmured, prodding the corpse’s arm to be sure the wound had disappeared. “It can’t be spelled to do it. It wouldn’t work with me so close.”
“It can’t be mortal blood, Miss Kit,” Dez said, and jerked his chin at Dredmore. “I wager he knows what it is.”
“There are tales about the healing qualities of Aramanthan blood,” Dredmore said. “But the bodies of all the immortals perished in the grove.”
“We’ll have to assume that one escaped.” I regarded the arm. “Why would you attack women and then heal them with immortal blood?”
“To erase all evidence of the bite mark serves no purpose,” Dredmore said. “The women remember they have been attacked. Perhaps to addle them, or discredit them?”
“That can’t be all. He’s gone to too much trouble. All right, they grab them, they bite them, and then they assault them.” I studied the corpse for a moment before I took hold of the shroud and yanked it away from the lower half of the body. I expected to see the most private part of the Wolfman’s body, but that lay covered by more metal and gears.
“Another one with a brass hat,” Dez muttered, and when he saw my face he reddened. “The last two had the same mech in their laps. Bit ridiculous, if you ask me. No woman would let them . . . oh, bloody hell.”
I refrained from commenting and walked round the end of the table to examine it from the other side. That was when I spotted an odd bulge in the Wolfman’s jaw. “Lucien, come here.” When he did I pointed to the protuberance. “What is that lump?”
“A contusion.” He reached out and pressed his fingers over it. “No, it’s solid. It feels as if there is something lodged inside his cheek.”
“Could be one of them mech teeth got knocked askew,” Dez said, and came with a smaller pair of tongs. “Here, I’ll have it out.”
The attendant rooted about in the mouth until he latched on to something and extracted it. “Just a rock.”
“Don’t touch it,” I said when he reached to remove it from the tongs. “This one is my specialty.”
I took the stone, which was a vile blackish green with patches of yellow, and turned it over in my palm. I hadn’t held that many Aramanthan spirit stones, but I knew exactly what sort of power it contained—a sleeping monster, waiting to be placed inside a mortal body and awakened by a spell to take control of it.
Dez peered at it, and then took a step back. “That isn’t just a rock.”
I found a specimen box, in which I put the spirit stone before I placed it in my reticule. “Will you check the other body for the same, please?”
Dez moved to another table and examined the body. “Nothing in this one. Perhaps it fell out during the struggle.” He gave me a troubled glance. “Miss, are you all right?”
“Yes, and I think I know where it landed.” It took another moment for me to collect myself, and then I removed my jacket. “I’ll need you to do a bit of cutting now, Dez.”
“I can’t remove those teeth. You’ve already seen the clockworks in the chest,” he pointed out, frowning as I rolled up my sleeve. “Sweet Mary, miss. Why are you all bruised up like that?”
“I was bitten by the second Wolfman.” I pulled a stool over to the table, sat down, and stretched out my arm. “Get a clean blade if you would, and something to bandage it after.”
Dez recoiled. “I’m not cutting on you. I’d never hurt a woman, and you’ve had enough harm done to you.”
“No, Charmian.” Dredmore loomed over me. “I won’t allow it.”
I grabbed his hand and placed it over the spot where I’d been bitten, where the hard lump of an Aramanthan spirit stone now lay beneath my healed skin. “Either Dez takes it out, or I do.”
Dredmore’s mouth thinned. “I will summon a surgeon—”
“—who will never believe our explanation and refuse to operate.” I shifted my gaze to the attendant’s pale face. “I am immune to magic round me, not inside me. If the spirit is released from the stone while it’s in my arm, it will possess me. It has to come out, now.”
“Miss, I can’t. I can’t risk it. I’ve never operated on a living person.” He swallowed. “ ’Sides that, I don’t have nothing I can use to knock you out. The pain will be too much, you’ll move, and then—”
“I won’t. Lucien will help.” I glanced up at Dredmore. “He will hold me fast.”
His arm came round me, and he pressed my face against his chest for a moment before he released me. To Dez, he said, “Do you have what you’ll need to clean and stitch up the wound?”
He nodded. “Carbolic and boiled thread. Miss Kit, you really can’t move. Not an inch. And screaming won’t be good, not while I’m at it. I’ll lose me nerve.”
“I won’t make a peep,” I promised.
Once Dez assembled the necessary items, Dredmore took hold of my wrist and elbow. “Look at me,” he said, and when I did he smiled. “You may call me as many names as you wish, as long as you keep watching my face.”
“That shouldn’t be difficult.” I felt the cold edge of the blade. “You have a handsome—” I caught my breath as Dez began the work. “Countenance.” White-hot pain made me drag in my breath. “When you’re not . . . glowering.”
“I must endeavor to seek more satisfaction.” As he felt me tremble he shifted the hand on my wrist, lacing his fingers through mine. “I have some suggestions as to how you might bring me to that happy state.”
“Naturally you would. You’re a scoundrel and a womanizer,” I said through my teeth. “Far too wealthy and powerful. A rake incapable of reform. Lucien—”
“I know, love. Nearly there.” His eyes stayed on mine as he said to Dez, “Do you have it?”
“Yes.” Something bounced onto metal, and a cloth covered my blazing flesh. “A few stitches now, Miss Kit.”
I felt the stab of the needle and let out my breath before I dropped my head against Lucien’s chest. “Nothing fancy, Dez, please.”
The pain eased, but I didn’t look at my arm until he had finished. The size of the wound astonished me. “Hardly a scratch, when it felt like you were cutting me from palm to pit.” My gaze shifted to the stone he’d removed, an unimpressive dark azure pebble. “I wonder who you were,” I said to the rock. No doubt the spirit of some hateful immortal warmonger like Zarath, or perhaps someone even worse.
“We’ll not pursue it,” Dredmore told me.
Dez bandaged me and gave me instructions to snip and pull out the suture threads once the wound had fully closed. “Until it does, keep it clean and wrapped.”
“We’ll have to go fo
r a drive by the bay later,” I told Dredmore once I added the blue pebble to the box in my reticule. “At least this explains why Lykaon wants the bite wounds to heal immediately—to keep the stones in place.”
“So that they might later possess the victims.” Dredmore had never looked more disgusted. “That heartless bastard.”
“I don’t believe the women are the intended hosts. Lady Bestly wasn’t possessed, and neither were Felicity or Janice.” I tightened my grip on the reticule. “I think their unborn children are.”
Dredmore gave me a bleak look. “They’re all with child?”
“I shall have to check with Rina and see the other victims, but yes, I think they must be.” I turned to Dez. “Thank you for your help.”
“If that’s what you’re calling it.” He went to a stool and sat down, resting his face in his hands. “I’ve got to find another job.”
• • •
Dredmore directed Connell to take us to a remote hillside spot beside the bay, where I took great pleasure in emptying the box of spirit stones over the cliff and watching them plummet into the dark, cold water.
“Have a lovely nap for the rest of eternity.” For good measure I tossed the empty box and my reticule after them. “So how do we tell these women that they are carrying immortal children? ‘Sorry you were attacked, you’re going to have a baby, and it’s likely to take over the world’?”
“The unborn are not yet suitable for possession.” Dredmore took hold of my hand. “In order to take over a body, the spirit stone must be first awakened by a spell. Only then can the Aramanthan be freed to enter and seize control of the mind.”
“That spell may have been cast already,” I pointed out.
“Even if Lykaon has released the spirits, these children sired by the Wolfmen have only just been conceived,” Dredmore said. “It will be several weeks before they develop enough to be overtaken.”
“All the victims will have to be checked,” I said as we walked back to the carri. “I have a list of their names and addresses at the office. I’ll call on them and see how many have been used as vessels.”
Inside the carri, Dredmore instructed Connell to take us to my office building before he said, “If Lykaon spelled the Aramanthan spirits to bond with the unborn, then it may not be possible to safely extract the stones from the women.”
“Dez had no problem with mine . . . because the spell wouldn’t work on me.” I thumped my good fist against the seat. “Damn. If we can’t get the stones out of them—”
“—then it must be the unborn,” Dredmore finished for me.
Sometimes the secrets I knew gratified me; other times they only made me feel wretched. “There are herbalists in the city who know how to put a discreet end to unwanted pregnancies. Rina’s gels will likely do that, but Lady Bestly.” I shook my head. “She’s waited her entire life to have a child, and her future hangs in the balance. She’ll never agree to it.”
“I will go to Eugenia and make her aware that the conception was forced upon her for reasons other than providing an heir,” Dredmore said. “That may persuade her to make the difficult choice. We cannot permit Lykaon to breed a new army of immortals.”
“He can’t sire them without the Wolfmen, so they must be stopped, too.” As the carri halted in front of my building I adjusted my sling. “I will likely be some time calling on the victims, but I will save Rina’s gels for last. Can you meet me at the Eagle’s Nest by four?”
“I will, but we will not long be there. Until this is finished you are spending your nights at Morehaven.” Before I could tell him what I thought of that he pressed a finger to my lips. “I will hire a lady’s maid to attend to you and play chaperone. As it is, your arm will be unusable for at least a week.”
“I suppose I should accept, seeing as I have a new wardrobe there. But I can manage without a maid.” As Connell opened the door to help me down, I glanced back at Dredmore. “If I’m to stay at Morehaven, I’ll want a turning bolt lock on the door.”
He inclined his head. “I’ll have one installed tonight.”
As Dredmore drove off I turned to see Docket hurrying out to meet me. Grease made black streaks on his grizzled face, and all of what little hair he possessed appeared to be standing on end. “Morning, Doc.”
“Kit, I’ve been watching for you for hours.” He surveyed me. “Heavens, what did you do to your arm?”
“Banged it up a bit.” Explaining the rest would have to keep. “So why were you watching? Have the other tenants voted to have me evicted?”
“If they have, they didn’t get my ballot.” He took hold of my good arm. “Come down to the workshop. I need you for the final adjustments. It’s looking very tidy, I must say. I’ll have to tighten down most of the clamps—I loosened them when I donned it for the first trial—but all the levers are aligned and the gears lubed up proper.”
He rattled on as he brought me down to the Dungeon and led me over to his wall rack, and only then I understood.
“You finished the harness.” I tried to smile. “How fabulous it looks.”
Docket beamed. “Right proud of it, I am. Beats everything the militia’s got, that’s for sure. Oh, let’s have this sling off before I fit you.”
“My arm is really sore, mate,” I said. “Perhaps I could try it out when I’m feeling more the thing.”
“That’s the beauty of the levers. They’re so sensitive you’ll have only to twitch a muscle for them to respond.” He untied the sling and patted my shoulder. “No worries, love. Once you have it on you’ll fancy it like mad.”
I didn’t fancy another trip to hospital. “Can you shut it off at once if something goes wrong?”
“No, but you can.” He pointed to a bracket with a brass button at the end of one appendage brace. “Press that and all the motors shut off. Press it again and they’ll kick back on. Now stand in front of it here and we’ll fit the clamps to you.”
Docket hustled me into place and began strapping me into the harness. I tried a few more protests but he kept assuring me I’d be perfectly safe.
“I’ve been trying to decide on a name for it,” he said as he adjusted the clamps round my limbs. “What do you think of Auto Armor or Battle Brace or perhaps The War Wager?”
“Names have never been your strong suit, mate.” As I said that I chuckled. “Well, there you are. What about the strong suit?”
He repeated it and grinned. “Perfect.” He released the harness from the wall rack and backed away. “Now, press the button, and take a few steps.”
I didn’t want to move in the awkward, heavy rig, but nothing else would satisfy him but a real test of it. “If I fall forward you’ll catch me, right?”
“Won’t need to,” Docket said. “Go on, then.”
I tapped the button and felt the humming vibration of the motors whirring up to full speed. My best option seemed to be shuffling forward one step and immediately declaring Doc’s contraption a resounding success. If that didn’t work, pleading a call of nature would have to do.
“Here I go.” As I gingerly inched my right foot forward, the flat lever heads pressing against the side of my skirts shifted and my leg lifted and came back down in a neat step. I could feel the other levers on my other leg, abdomen, and arms responding as well, and when I took a second step the harness moved my arms with a slight jerk.
“Oy,” Docket called, now across the room, and threw something at me. “Catch.”
I brought up my arms to deflect the can hurtling toward my face, and the harness opened my hands to catch it. My eyes widened as the jointed braces over my fingers contracted, crushing the can as if it were fashioned of paper.
“You see? You’ll not be bashed by anything thrown at you.” Docket hurried back to me and spread his arms. “Now pick me up.”
I looked at the can. “I’ve no wish to crumple you, mate.”
“You won’t. I’ve installed weight scales to kick in the safety inhibitors, and keep your gripping powe
r at hold torque for anything over thirty pounds.” He pointed to a spot on the chest plate. “You can override them by pressing that red switch there.”
I tucked in my chin to see the switch. “Did you test this function, too?”
He gave an eager nod. “Mr. Gremley was kind enough to volunteer. I scooped him up as if he weighed no more than a feather.”
Slowly I reached out to Docket, putting my hands on his waist. “Please, God, don’t let fail whatever it is that keeps me from smashing his ribs.”
The strong suit made a faint whining sound as I moved my arms up, and suddenly Docket was dangling above my head. I stared up at him, unwilling to believe it had been so simple. “I can’t feel your weight at all.”
“The counterweights inside redistribute it,” he said. “It’s why it feels so heavy when it’s switched off. You can lift at least three or four men at once if you like.”
I put Docket back down and examined the harness once more. “It really does work.” I took a few more steps, growing accustomed to the slight jerks as the harness moved with me. “Can I hit something?”
“That’s the best part.” He gestured for me to follow him over to a tall stack of his crated parts. “All you have to do is make a fist and point it at what you want to punch.”
“Not all that.” I eyed the heavy wood slats and the motors sitting inside. “I’ll break my only good hand.”
“Then use the hurt one,” he suggested. “You’ll not feel a thing.”
I lifted my hurt arm and aimed my fist at the crate. The harness sent my arm flying forward and my fist landed with what felt to me like a bare nudge. Wood cracked, metal groaned, and the crate flew twenty feet into the back wall, where it smashed apart.
I barely felt a twinge from my wound, and turned my hand over to see bits of the crate fall from the braces. Beneath them my hand didn’t have a mark on it. “Sweet Mary.”
“The shock compressors take all the force of the blow for you,” Docket said, pointing out the tiny geared joints over my fingers. “I’ve put these on the maximum setting, so you’ll not want to punch a regular chap—you could knock his head off. But if you tussle with one of them beasts, it should match his strength blow for blow.”
