by Mia Strange
“We tried to plan ahead. In case we were successful. We knew Dru’s railcar would be vacant when we were in Seattle. It made sense to use it.”
I traced the horseshoe hammered on a beam above the tank. As usual, a whisper of magic tingled through my fingertips. I realized as I traced the iron once more, that this ward was by far weaker than the rest of ours had been. Leave it to Dru to skimp on her magic, so that we could have more.
“Annabel will sleep deeply for a few more days,” Eli whispered. “Dru placed rejuvenating spells in the water. Calming spells.” He smiled. “And my favorite, a sweet dream spell.”
My mind’s eye flashed on Annabel, alone, surrounded by broken magic, deadly Micas’ and living in filth and fear. She deserved sweet dreams. I put my hand on the glass. “Sleep well, Annabel Lee. Sleep well.”
“Dru did a fab job with that tank. Wow. Look at the colors in that coral. Wish I had paint in those hues. She can decorate for me anytime.” Jin pressed her nose to the glass. “And what the heck color is Annabel’s hair? I’ll tell ya what.”
I groaned. Here they come. Air quotes.
“’Out of this friggin’ world red, that’s what.”
Sometimes, I hate being right.
“Let’s head out,” Eli whispered. “We’ll let her sleep. She’s fine.”
“Yeah,” I said trailing my fingertips along the glass. “She is. She’s home.”
Welcome aboard one and all, to our little engine that could. The words of Darius floated around us, sarcastic and thick.
“Hey. Flame On. I’m pretty sure that line falls under plagiarism.” Jin snapped her gum.
Oh. And ‘flame on’ doesn’t?
Jin rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Hell Boy.”
Oh, that’s original. I know that one is taken. I even know the guy.
“Darius?” Eli warned. “Dial down the sarcasm. I said you could join us. I’m trying to show you some appreciation for running The Dark Horse fast and-”
“Let me guess,” said Jin. “Furious?”
Elijah Dark. Are you being run out of town? Yet again?
“I was going to say efficiently.” Eli sighed.
How about, “like a bat out of hell.” Now there’s a line I can get behind. And speaking of bats, where is Mr. Hale?
“Okay. You’re done, Darius.” Eli shut him off. The cabin was Demon free. He sighed and swung his booted feet down from the control counter. He shrugged. “Demons. What are you going to do?” He laughed. We all did.
We were huddled together in the engine room, drinking flavored espresso. Eli had even scored some whipped cream from a vendor from the north. This was our ‘hitting the road’ ritual.
But tonight, was different.
Pilot still floated along the rails somewhere ahead of us. The Dark Destiny needed to run out the helium before the balloon could be deflated and the airship clamped once more on its place on the train. And Pilot wouldn’t want to pass up a night flight. They were his favorites.
Traveler Hale was MIA. And Turk was somewhere in the railcars, still trying to wrangle Kong. Ever since The King Street Station, the monkey had refused Turk’s magic. Or should I say Turk’s magic had refused him. Either way, Kong was running this train right now.
The Bone Man and Zombie Phil had yet to arrive. Something about Phil missing his overalls.
Jin twirled my twin knives.
“You know those are mine, right?” I smiled at her.
“Yep. And I can’t tell you how much fun we had taking it off The Ignored just before he and his buddies took their little swim in Puget Sound.”
“And you were supposed to be in the stateroom. Locked in. Remember?” Eli lifted that famous dark eyebrow of his.
“What I remember? Is that you didn’t say for how long.” Jin smiled sweetly, twirled the knives once more and handed them to me.
Even though the blades felt good in my hands, my smile faltered. There had been so much bloodshed in such a short amount of time, somehow a net full of people being dropped into the gray, polluted waters of Puget Sound didn’t bring me the comfort I thought it would. Were they bad men? Yes. The worst. Was our world better off without them? Absolutely. Would I miss them? Oh hell no. Then what was it?
“They had a chance you know.” Eli slid into the bench next to me. He squeezed my knee. “If they could swim, it’s possible.” His blue eyes looked serious, sincere. I could tell that he wanted to believe it himself.
“But not probable,” I added.
“Not probable,” he agreed. “But if there is one thing I know, in this world, anything is possible.”
“Like Emma?”
“Definitely like, Emma.” He took my hand and pulled me up from the bench. “Let’s get some night air. I have something to show you.”
He slid the door open and we stepped onto the back deck. Leaning against the iron sides, I closed my eyes, and enjoyed the vibrations of our train. I listened to the metal wheels race along the steel rails, felt the chug of the pistons. Opening my eyes, I watched as the huge plume of white steam streamed out from behind us, leaving a trail across the moon. It went on forever and ever.
Eli leaned next to me, his long blue-black hair blowing all around us. In the shadows, he looked mysterious, dangerous even. His eyes caught the moonlight and I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to.
He pulled a small piece of paper out of his back pocket. Saying nothing, he handed it to me. I carefully unfolded the fragile rice paper. My breath caught.
In the glow of the gas lamp, there was Emma’s freckled face staring up at me. With her impish smile and missing bottom tooth, she grinned at me from a pen and ink drawing as if it were yesterday. I held back hot, pressing tears. Sometimes, I felt I had cried a lifetime for her. For my family. Just like so many others had in our impossible world. My story was not unique.
But it was mine.
“Where?” I couldn’t find my voice for more words.
“The source, my source, is called The Talking Head of Brass.” I sought council after you were found in The Georgetown Morgue after the slipstream magic drew you in on stage.”
“The Talking Head of what?” I stood up straighter. “Something you made?”
He shook his head. “It’s something I own. Well, my family owned. And has for centuries. I haven’t shared it with anyone, not even you. It’s dangerous to know of its existence. Even more dangerous to know where it is. Some people consider it the 8th wonder of the world.”
“Okay,” I said warily. “I won’t ask where. But why tell me? And why tell me now?”
I wanted answers for you. About Emma. I wanted to be sure that Seattle was a closed book where she was concerned.”
“And did you?” My heart thumped in my chest. What did he learn? What?
“One never knows. Even for my ancestors the inner workings, that is the logic, if you will, of The Brass Head, was always a mystery. It continues to be.”
I stared at Emma’s face until a fat tear fell and a watermark formed on her little chin. I thumbed it off the paper. “How did this drawing come about? What do you think it means?”
“The Talking Head of Brass is exactly that. An automaton bust made of brass, cogs, gears. It can draw, and it drew this. I think, what it means is that she was never in Seattle.”
“What?”
“Look. He pointed to something in her hand. It was a tiny doll. Barely visible. The head, torso, and one arm poked out from her chunky fist. It was made from grasses and bits of moss tied together with colored yarn. It had button eyes, a tiny felt heart, a straight pin sprang from its head-
“A voodoo doll?” I whispered.
“I think so. Yes. I’ve seen them before. From the Bayou area–”
“Dru’s home. She’s there right now. These are her people.” My excitement rose.
“And we will get there. A stop first, then-”
My heart sank and disappointment shattered my sudden euphoria. Las Vegas. Now called, “Lost Vegas.”
Chapter Four. The City of Blood and Sin. The trip was set. Had been for almost a year. We were booked, and in that town, it hadn’t been easy. It had taken major negotiations and cost a fortune greasing palms.
Eli put his arms around me. Our foreheads touched. Our magic mingled. “Soon, Skye. Have patience with me. It’s also the next best stop for Annabel. The Fountains of Bellagio are said to have the purest waters left on this boiling planet.”
“The purest?” Visions of Anabel swimming in crystal clear waters made my heart squeeze. She deserved it. “How have The Fountains survived? And in a desert no less?”
“It’s because they are in the desert that they survive. Water is power. And power is money.”
“Are we interrupting?” The Bone Man walked along the narrow platform, leading to the engine cab. He’d bribed Phil with a chicken foot dangling from an old fishing pole that hung over his thin shoulder. It worked. Phil followed with a literal bounce in his shuffle.
“Not at all,” Eli said pulling away from me. “Fresh Espresso, hot and waiting.” He motioned to the cab. “And a butterscotch for Phil.”
“Do you have those little Styrofoam cups? Phil eats ‘em like popcorn.”
“Sure. He deserves a treat. Come on.”
“Think I’ll stay,” I said. “Maybe call it a night.”
Eli paused. He reached out and tugged at my hair. “Sleep well, Skye St. John. You’re safe here on the rails.” He leaned in and whispered. “And with me.” His lips brushed my cheek. The tingle of the kiss lingered there, the magic, his magic, stayed for a good long while.
If anyone understood me, it was him. Tough girl, Skye St. John, needed some time alone. To cry.
I stood on top of my railcar and watched him float across the moon. Just a tiny speck that grew larger and larger, until at last, he landed. Walking along the top of the railcars, moving through the engine steam, he emerged, silent as a ghost.
Traveler Hale was back.
Back home.
I felt a smile tug at my lips. I couldn’t say I was glad to see him. I couldn’t say I wasn’t. The feeling just- was. The pull between us was tangible. Like something hanging in the air that you could reach out and grab. It wasn’t electric. There were no sparks or fireworks or tingles. I thought of Eli. I couldn’t say what it was. But it was there. And as real as the full moon I gazed up at.
“You’ve been crying, Lovely,” he said as he approached.
I shrugged. “Not for a while. Not for long.” Curious, I asked, “You could tell?”
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“I’m over it. Don’t want to talk about it.” I reached up and touched the drawing of Em that I folded and placed under my thermal, right next to my heart.
“Espresso?” He pointed to the engine cab.
“Lots.”
“Hazelnut?
“And chocolate.”
“Darius?”
“In time out.” That garnished me a smile.
He nodded and started to walk past me. He almost made it. Almost. He reached out and touched my arm, and gently turned me toward him. “About tonight.”
I held my breath and waited. I didn’t know what he was going to say. I didn’t know if right now, I was up to hearing it.
“Elijah was not too far off. I do enjoy the blood. Some–types, for lack of a better word, more than others.”
“Like preferring what? Italian?” He frowned. I smiled. “That’s a joke, Traveler.”
“Oh. Yes. I see the humor now.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t work so hard at it.”
“I also need blood to survive. To live.”
“So I’ve read.” I was suddenly chilled.
“You’ve read?”
“Yep. Jin has a comic book. Dracula, undead.”
He thought for a moment. “Another joke?”
I smiled. “Now you’re getting it.”
“I only tell you this because our next stop is a dangerous one.”
“Aren’t they all?”
“Yes. True enough. But more so for you. And–” he paused again.
“And?” Okay. I was getting nervous.
“And it’s because you carry my blood.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“I think that when I hung in silver, that was reminder enough.”
I sucked in my breath. “True,” I breathed out. “True.”
“This city, this City of Blood and Sin. The one they call ‘Lost’ Vegas.”
“It was called Las Vegas,” I corrected him. I liked the real name better.
“Ah yes. Site History. Las Vegas.”
“Go on.” I didn’t know if I wanted him to, but knowing was better, right?
“There are more of my kind there.”
“What? How many?” My heartbeat increased. “Does Eli know?”
“He knows what I do. There are more, but true numbers are hard to come by.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because the blood you carry will make you a target. An irresistible one to some.”
“How can you know such a thing?” I rubbed my arms. Forget chilly. Now I was freezing.
“Because,” he lowered his voice. His eyes flashing amber. “that is how you, are to me. How you have always been.”
“Like Italian?” I whispered. My joke wasn’t funny anymore.
“Like Italian.”
“Goodnight, Lovely. Sleep well.”
“Goodnight? Just like that, goodnight?”
“Yes. Just like that. This has been an unbelievably long day.”
“Well, you missed most of it.”
It was his turn to roll his eyes. “It has been an impossible night.”
“Impossible how?” I wanted to know. The mark on my inner thigh started to throb.
“Skye, this is a conversation best left for clearer heads-”
“Are you saying I’m not thinking straight?”
“No, Lovely. I’m saying, I’m not.”
I crossed my arms. “Explain.”
He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I know you feel it. Here.” He reached out, and with his long slender fingers, Traveler traced upward, along the inside of my thigh. His fingertips stopped on the area that throbbed. The pain subsided, and that awareness, that pull, started to flare once more. And suddenly, I remembered. I remembered it all.
I backed away as the heat of embarrassment climbed into my cold cheeks. “Stay away from me, Traveler. I don’t know what has happened, what you have done, but I don’t want it.”
He sighed. “I’m aware. Just know that’s how your life was saved tonight. The only way it could be saved. And hopefully, that will be enough. For now. For tonight.”
He began to walk away.
“What is it?” I whispered. “Please, tell me.”
He stopped and met my eyes. “It’s a mark, Skye. My mark. It will help keep you safe. And if you wish to keep me safe, wish me to keep on living, do me a favor.”
I crossed my arms. “Which is?”
“Don’t tell, Eli.”
He turned and walked away. And when Traveler walks away, the conversation is definitely over.
“Wait–”
I was talking to his back. A chilling mist moved in, and he was gone.
I turned as the mist and fog swirled around me, and there, in the moonlight, following the train–was my steam magic, full and thick, beautiful and wondrous.
Magic. In the steam. And now? Magic in the blood.
The full scent of fresh pine trees that lined the rails embraced me. A fine mist of saltwater stung my eyes. I wondered if the mist was searching for Annabel.
I sank down on the cold iron.
Holding my knees to my chin, I watched the steam magic until the sun came up. Until the enigma that was Traveler Hale was tucked away for the day. And then, I started to watch my life unfold…
I watched the Dublin twins show up to take their positions on top of Traveler’s railcar to wait for
the return of the night.
I watched The Bone Man’s tobacco smoke rise to meet the morning.
I watched Kong scamper around a railcar, and heard Turk thundering after him.
I watched the sky for Pilot’s return.
I watched the wolves run along the train.
But mostly, I waited.
Waited for the aroma of Eli’s signature pancakes to drift up for an invite I knew I didn’t need.
As I walked along the tops of the cars, hopping from one to another, something I had done a thousand times, I took in all the sights and sounds and smells of another journey underway. Another destination to be found. There would be Ley lines and Magic and yes, danger. But in the world of our Academy, wasn’t there always?
As the day arrived to push back the darkness, I knew.
I knew there would be time. Time for answers from Traveler Hale. Time for Emma. And time for me. But mostly, I wanted time for a blessed sleep. A sleep that would bring me dreams of Dr. Elijah Dark. Dreams… of My Eli.
This Author’s Journey
First, a huge thank you so very much for reading my book,
Vampire in Silver.
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Honest reviews of my books help other readers to find my stories. If you enjoyed this book, and have a minute, consider hopping on Amazon and leaving a review. (It can be as short as you like.) Reviews are very much appreciated and play a big part in spreading the word about The Traveling Troupe Academy of Dr. Dark. I thank you very much in advance.
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And most importantly? Again, thank you for taking the time to read my books, and helping this author’s journey…
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All the very best,
Mia
Please look for Book 3 in the Traveling Troupe Academy of Dr. Dark, available for pre-order soon.
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Here’s a fun hint… A Mermaids Tale…
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And in case you missed where it all started, Book 1…
GIRL ON A TOMBSTONE, THE TRAVELING TROUPE ACADEMY OF DR. DARK
