by Mia Strange
I watched the figure of Dr. Dark from the stern, hobbling along at a slow, arduous pace. The silhouette of his bent, stooped frame cast a gnarled, twisted shadow across the ground. I knew he was in complete transformation, which meant that each arthritic ache along with the painful inflamed joints that plagued the elderly, was only too real. There was a limp in his gait, and he stumbled more often than not. He really was in danger of falling, of breaking a hip, or worse. It wouldn’t take much on this chewed up, uneven ground to cause it.
I wanted to stay behind, to walk with him, to link my arm with his, to help. It was Eli after all. But we knew better. Without the camouflage of theater makeup, it was best I kept a distance from the recording camera eyes of The Gov rats.
I thought about the image of a tombstone drawn in a dead stranger’s blood. I was the hunted one. I had to remember that.
For now, I would put the image of that now destroyed tombstone that nearly lured me to my death, firmly out of my mind.
“Are you sure we should go on without you?” Pilot sat on the ground, leaning against the iron doors of The Madison. He didn’t look convinced. That made two of us.
I kicked at a rock and watched Phil circle the railcar once more. We had put him ‘on leash’ to walk the perimeter. Zombies kept The Gov rats at bay. No matter how good the tech, how talented the Tinker, there was something askew when it came to The Gov rats. They hated the rotting dead and steered clear. For the moment, we had privacy, out in the open, right in the middle of the afternoon, on an abandoned city street.
“I’m sure.” Dark stood in front of us holding the remnants of the crushed bat automaton in his hands. He’d been examining it for the last five minutes. This was the first time he looked up. “Excellent work,” he said absentmindedly. “It has Jacoby Cane written all over it. This is his, I’m sure.”
My heart skipped a beat. Jacoby Cane. The Gov’s Tinker. Or mad scientist. Or murderer. Whatever. “The same one The Raised mentioned?”
Dark nodded. “The same.”
On the night of my attack, Traveler, a gifted necromancer, had raised a dead man that we found in proximity to our railcars. Our fears were confirmed, ‘The Raised,’ as he was called was searching for the girl on the tombstone, too. But, not Emma after all. Me. It had been me all along. A nasty trick, a ploy, all to lure me out. And it had almost worked.
“I’m hearing Cane’s name more and more,” Pilot said. “Especially when I’m in the wind. He’s becoming a popular guy with a lot of the wrong people.”
“It’s a name worth remembering,” Dark said. “And a man worth remembering . . . to avoid.”
“No problem there,” I whispered.
“The sooner you reach The Neptune Theater and join the others, the sooner you will be safe.” Eli shifted his trace wire on his shoulder. “I’ll be there when the curtain goes up.” He let the bat slip through his fingers until all he was holding onto were mangled copper wires. He swung the ruined automaton back and forth as if it was his pocket watch.
“But, Eli-” I started.
The bat dropped to the pavement and was crushed violently under the heel of his boot. “There’s nothing here that would pull the device back to its launch. This is only an attack weapon. An impressive one at that. Overall, you three got lucky.”
I hid a smile. Eli had counted Phil, and I liked that.
Pilot looked visibly relieved. Calling the aether? His use of magic? Still a secret.
I crossed my arms. “Eli. I’m going with you.”
He shook his head. “Skye, you can’t help with this. I’ve retraced our steps, from the tombstone to the market. I know the route, I’ve mapped it.” He reached into his pocket and produced a single page of crazy lines, symbols, and doodles. No really. Doodles. I think he had tried to draw Dagger.
“Wait. You went back without me?” Disappointment and betrayal flooded my emotions. If he truly believed I could see the lines, could find the lines, why not take me? He looked up and met my eyes. I couldn’t hide my emotions. I didn’t even try.
“I had no choice,” he said. “We are up against a ticking clock. I’ve been dowsing since dawn. Our time in Seattle is about to run out. I’m sorry, Skye. I am. I owe you. Next time?” He smiled and I could see just a hint of his dimple hidden in the lines and wrinkles.
I looked away.
“Hey.” Eli reached over and touched my arm. Magic flared between us, and I felt the familiar caress of soft static and warm energy that was all our own. I felt him.
“I always pay my debts.”
I shook my head and turned back to face him. “I can help. I can–”
“Why would you go with him?” Pilot cut me off. He stood up slowly, still wincing from his fall. “Only Dark can see the lines.”
I opened my mouth to argue, and then? I promptly shut it.
Once again, the tiny seashells, sea stars, and sand dollars reappeared, twisting, floating…leading. The Ley line flared right in front of me. I was hit with the smell of suntan oil, cold beer, and limes. I heard the whirl of a blender and the tune of a Jimmy Buffett song. I laughed out loud. It would seem that our mermaid? Was a party girl.
Phil took that moment to shuffle by. The zombie stopped, cocked his head at the Ley line only he and I could see, reached out, and batted at something. An oyster shell bounced off his hand and fell at Dr. Dark’s feet.
I so wish I had a photo of Eli’s expression. A smile tugged at my lips. I crumpled up his map and handed it to Phil, who promptly ate it. I crossed my arms, and adopting some of that ‘urban girl’ attitude of Jin’s, I cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Hey, Dark. Who needs doodles when you have me?” I bent, using a big sweeping movement that mimicked his signature bow.
“I’ll collect on that debt. Right now.”
6
Late afternoon sunlight found its way through the filthy glass blocks above to cast Elijah Dark in streaks of bronze and gold. For now, we were tucked away, hidden from view, in The Seattle Underground. The Ley line had literally taken my hand, wrapped it in soft steam magic that felt like the fur of a kitten, and walked us both right in.
Fingers of light played against Eli’s skin. I watched from the shadows as he struggled to pull a plain black, long-sleeved tee over a perfect set of abs. I caught a glimpse of his lean muscular back, as he turned to stow his elegant duster in his pack.
The transformation was complete.
Young Eli was back.
My Eli was back.
And this was so much more than an alchemist’s trick. This was the magic of a Dark alchemist, a bloodline steeped in alchemy, legend, and lore.
I could see part of his tattoo, an intricate, inked chain that wrapped around his torso again and again. The chain detoured, crawling up his back, mapping his spine. It snaked over his shoulder and fed down to his ribs, where it connected with an impossibly ornate pocket watch that matched his real one.
There was only one difference between this watch and his. The tattooed clock counted down seconds, minutes, days, months, and years. Counted down the time we had left, before the boiling core of our world, overloaded with steam and magic and the rotting dead, was no more.
Quite simply, it was a doomsday clock.
Tattooed on his skin years before, and infused with Dark family magic, the clock told us that time was short. Eli had reset it once. A process that almost killed him. He assured us it couldn’t be done again.
I could clearly read the clock, we had just over a year.
How I hoped the prediction was wrong. But in all the history, oral and written about the Alchemy of the Dark family, the alchemists had never had it wrong.
Not once.
Not ever.
Eli caught my eye, gave a slight nod and continued to stow his clothes. Gone was the brocade vest, the pinstriped trousers, the pristine white shirt. Little cufflinks of gold were dropped into a small pull string pouch, his expensive bowler, carefully packed in a circular hatbox.
In their place,
Eli wore black jeans that hung low on his slender hips. The denim legs tapered to fit him perfectly and the fabric hugged him like a second skin. I think Jin called them Skinny Jeans. I didn’t know what they were, I was pretty much fashion-challenged. Why else would I be wearing an inside out, hoodie? But I couldn’t deny it. As Jin would say, air quotes and all, “holy shitola.” Elijah Dark looked mighty fine.
A thin, distressed leather belt with rivets of silver circled his waist not once, but twice. I knew instantly there was more to that belt than met the eye.
His raven black hair hung loosely about his shoulders. His intelligent blue eyes scoured every detail of our surroundings. The wicked boots he wore were made for covering rugged terrain. But I had seen the same pair of boots stomp bodies and smash ribs.
Elijah Dark in or out of costume was always prepared. I knew he hid a blade in each boot, I only hoped we weren’t heading anywhere we would have to use one.
Pilot had stayed outside with Zombie Phil just long enough to keep The Gov rats away. We had entered the underground in secrecy. It was only then that Pilot packed up Phil and set sail for The Neptune Theater. The Dark Destiny was just too big to hide. Nothing gave away a location faster than a beautiful dirigible bobbing in the sky. Especially one with a zombie sitting in the premier seat.
Still. It killed Pilot to leave us, of that I was sure.
There was danger brewing around the Academy tonight, and Dark was all about speed. The quicker he got back, the safer we would all be.
I on the other hand? Got to stay. It came down to who could read the Ley line the fastest. And just guess who won?
I was still smiling.
Hoisting the spool of wire over his shoulder and tucking his chainmail gloves in his belt, Eli knelt and picked up two custom-designed crossbows. Plucked from The Dark arsenal railcar, and equipped with laser sights, the bows were greased lightning and deadly accurate.
I was hoping we wouldn’t have to use them. We were searching for a mermaid. Come on. How bad could it get?
Still, we were about to travel in The Seattle Underground. And that? In today’s world, was damn dangerous. Let’s just say it’s not the tourist attraction it once was. You know. The kind of place where people drank at Doc Maynard’s pub and bought souvenir t-shirts that said, ‘I WENT DOWN’ in Seattle. And then, they stumbled happily on home. Alive.
I knew from our Historical Site class, that in the late 1800s, after a fire swept through Seattle, destroying block after city block, a plan was formulated. The streets would be graded, the area elevated. Seattle was rebuilt with bricks and stone and mortar and blood. And this? The Seattle Underground? No more than a forgotten memory, home to rats, the occasional Ignored, and ghosts.
Yes. Ghosts.
But unless they called in their cousins the Shades, I wasn’t too worried. These poor souls had been here a long, long, time. Somehow, I didn’t think Eli and I would bother them much.
One had been lurking close, and peeking at us through a door frame. I waved. The spirit, ducked away, leaving a foggy film behind him.
Eli tossed the first crossbow to me and hung the second on his back. “Ghost?”
I slung mine over my shoulder. “Yep. For an old guy, he’s kinda cute.”
“Wish I could help them,” he shook his head.
“Save the world first. Then we’ll come back for ‘em.”
Eli smiled at that. “Deal.”
Looking around the dank walls, listening to the echo of condensation go drip, drip, drip, I was reminded of The Georgetown Morgue. After my knife attack, I’d taken refuge in the very scary, very haunted morgue. I had curled up on a cement slab and prepared to die. But thankfully, The Bone Man and Phil had not let that happen. Although when the Shades that haunted the place, followed us out, it was game on. And we almost lost.
I shivered outwardly. My heartbeat went into overdrive. Here I was, tiptoeing around another scary place. Suddenly, I couldn’t quite remember why I wanted to come so badly. Damn it. Sometimes? I was such a coward.
“Cold?” Eli asked.
“Naw. More like terrified. Think I have posttraumatic Shade syndrome.”
He smiled. “No Shades. Promise. The Gov did a sweep down here not too long ago. We should be safe enough.”
“You mean a sweep and slaughter of everything in its path?” I said with disgust.
Eli sighed. “Most likely. Ready?”
“Yep. Ready.” How could I not be? I was with Eli Dark. The guy I would follow anywhere. I sucked it up. “My Cowardly Lion moment is over.”
“You’re anything but.” His dimple danced to the surface.
I pushed past him. “Let me, I can see-”
“Seashells appearing out of thin air, the Ley line found in minutes instead of hours?”
I blushed. It was a rare day when an Academy member one-upped the Fantastical Dr. Dark. “Well, yeah.”
“It’s damn impressive, I’ve got to tell you.”
“Thanks. It means a lot.”
“I’m only sorry I didn’t take the time to listen before.”
“Well, in fairness, you’ve been busy. You know, saving my life.”
He walked across the dusty wooden planks, dropped his spool of wire on the floor, and pulled me into his arms. Eli touched his forehead to mine. My breath caught.
This was unexpected.
But I sure as hell wasn’t complaining. I loved the closeness. Loved the soft, murmur of magic that flowed between us.
“I’ll always save you. Always be there for you.”
“Even tonight?”
“Absolutely tonight. And every night after.” And from now on,” he said. “I’ll listen. I’ll always listen.”
“Do you have a plan B? In case A…
His expression darkened, and those exquisite blue eyes of his became deadly serious. He lifted his head from mine, and the delicious magic we shared faded.
“And a plan C, D, E. F… get it, Skye? I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Okay.”
“You believe me?
“Always.” I took a deep breath. “And Traveler?”
“I, that is we–Traveler, me–we have one plan. One. And no matter what, we stick to it.”
“I can help,” I whispered.
“No, Skye, you can’t. Not in this. I won’t let you become a murderer. This is my fight. My family’s. Now. Are you ready to find a mermaid? You’re better now, right?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Healed? Well? Whole?”
“Yeah. Perfect. I’m perfect.”
Eli nodded. “I think so too. Most of the time.” He winked. He gathered me in his arms.
For an instant, I thought of Traveler Hale. Wondered if he too would get through this night. Then I shoved him out of my mind. I would not ruin this moment by thinking about him. Or vampires. Or magic in my blood. Or that fucking Darius. And why did he just pop up? WTF? I don’t know, Skye. Miss me? Darius whispered through my mind. I mentally kicked him to the curb, as I think they used to say.
Okay. This had to stop. Because I was pretty much ruining this moment all by myself.
Eli pulled me in. We were so close I felt the drum of my heart match his, beat for beat. The flow of magic between us was constant now, like a spring melt, trickling down from the mountains. Cool, refreshing, energizing. Exotic. Exciting. Sensual.
Something pulled low in my belly and I wanted to press into him, to feel that beautiful, lean, muscular body melt into mine.
“You feel it?” I whispered. “What happens between us?” I wrapped my arms around his neck, mentally swearing at the crossbow that was, pardon the language, but was just fucking in my way. Damn it. I was having a moment here. Why did I have to be armed?
Shoving the bow aside, I pressed my cheek to his, suddenly too shy to meet his eyes. Wait. What was my problem? I was not shy. I was outspoken, inappropriate. But when it came to Elijah Dark? I was…insecure.
“I’ve always felt it,” he said. “The magic
. Our magic.”
“Always?”
“Always. From the first time I held you. Back when you were just a kid and I broke you out of Gov Care.”
I closed my eyes against the memories that were too hard to revisit. All that mattered was that I was here, in this moment, gathered in Elijah’s arms.
I looked up and licked my lips nervously. “What do you think it means?”
“I think it means . . . we’re connected. Always have been. And you know what else?”
I could hardly think. There was a ‘what else?’ I was still trying to come to grasp with the fact that I may belong to someone. That I may belong to this someone. That we may belong to each other.
I hadn’t felt this way, hadn’t thought this way, since before I lost my family, lost Emma, all those years ago.
Eli pulled back, and tilting my chin in his hand, looked into my eyes.
“What?” I whispered. “What else?”
“You’re not that kid anymore.”
He pulled me into him, close, firm, demanding. “Happy Birthday, Skye St. John.” Happy Birthday,” he whispered, “Jessie Anderson. I’ve waited an eternity to do this.”
He kissed me. My eyes filled with tears, hearing my true name spoken out loud for the first time in more than five years. Tears fell as Elijah Dark, the guy I had longed for while I lay dying on that cold slab of concrete, the guy I had wanted for so long, kissed me.
It was all I was hoping for.
And so much more.
The kiss started out tentative, sweet even. The magic between us flared. Our kiss deepened until we both became near frantic with want and need.
I wanted to throw down the crossbow. Yank off my Doc Martins. Pull off my clothes.
I wanted to be naked.
I wanted him to be naked.
And yeah, I knew that timing was everything, and the time was not now. We were in The Seattle Underground. In a bad place where bad things could happen. But-
But then?
Something did.
A series of grunts, growls, and the snapping of something metal echoed throughout the Underground.
Well shit. Just damn my negative thinking all to hell. I had to get ahold of one of those “Think Positive” books. I really did.
