Of Tinkers and Technomancers

by Katherine McIntyre

  Ellie and Theo Whitfield were the sort of gorgeous that made men stop and stare. Both had the same cinnamon skin and glossy black hair they left free and loose, unlike proper ladies. And ever since Theo had joined the workforce, the trousers and bowler cap she wore had caused gentlemen like his father to gossip worse than the church-bells.

  Silas ran a hand through his copper hair, the strands still matted on the sides from the straps of his goggles. He scuffed his boots on the uneven cobblestones while he walked past the empty apothecary’s, which had long since turned to cobwebs and shadows. In this stretch of the town, the scents of piss and gin hung heavy in the air, combining with the sickly-sweet odor emanating from some of the abandoned houses turned opium dens.

  Ahead, the tenements stretched out, brick buildings that had seen better years. Windows missing panels glared at him like gapped teeth, and the entrance lay open, the doors swinging with the breeze. No part of him wanted to return to his former home, but here he stood as the memories crashed down like a tidal wave.

  Silas wrinkled his nose as he entered, and his boots sank into the moldering carpet that stretched from one end of the corridor to the other. The wallpaper peeled, and the stench of old glue ripened in the thick air of the poorly ventilated place. He’d spent years in their one-room apartment tinkering on whatever floor space he could claim, collecting spare gears he found in the garbage and dissecting the crushed automatons he’d nicked from the dumpsters.

  The day his father had struck a lucky business deal, all of that had changed. Kylock Industries had emerged, and ever since then, his family had been doing everything possible to detach themselves from the gutter.

  Silas quickened his pace along the corridor, toward the third door, an apartment he remembered well. He lifted his knuckles to the door and knocked.

  The door creaked open, and Theo stepped into view, barring him from entry. Her glossy black hair hung down her back, and she wore a similar outfit to his. Her trousers highlighted the curve of her hips, and a button-up left open revealed a slice of cleavage. She pursed her lips, keeping her hand on the door even as he peeked past her. Based on the jut of her chin and the way she averted her gaze, he didn’t have to guess—she was embarrassed at the state of squalor. Not like she should be—I grew up here, too.

  “I’ll be back in a bit, Mother,” Theo called out, closing the door behind her and shutting the view from him.

  “Not planning on inviting me in for a cuppa?” he asked, a grin deepening on his face. Whenever she looked at him with her too-serious expression, he couldn’t help but tease. He’d ignited her temper a thousand and one times and had been a right ass in some of those instances, but he’d take sharp words over uninterest any day.

  “Like you’d be so lucky,” she said, heading down the corridor without a backward glance. Her hips swung back and forth while she sashayed with a natural grace down the hall. He lumbered after her, the squish of his boots into the disgusting carpet making his skin itch.

  “Are you sure you haven’t changed your mind?” Theo called as she reached the door. “This all would be a lot easier if you’d just hand me the parts, and I could get down to business. You know we’re not heading out for a picnic at the gardens. Don’t want to get those lilywhite hands dirty.”

  Silas stepped in front of her at the door and placed a hand on the handle. He raised the other one in front of her. “These? They’re covered in all manner of grime and callused to the blazes and back.” This close, she focused in on him with the intensity she delivered to everything, and he caught the tang of iron and sweet aroma of lilies. Her gaze lingered, trailing the length of him in a way that snared his interest.

  Theo dipped past him to push the door open, breaking any illusion she might look at him with something other than detestation.

  “Unless you’re skilled with a weapon, I’ve no use for those hands,” she said, taking the lead down the cobblestone streets of Islington. A couple of blokes loitering along the pavements lifted their knives and made several steps to approach—until they caught sight of Theo. The crew froze when she plucked the modified Derringer from the leather holster strapped around her waist.

  She blew the men a kiss before calling, “You’ll be dead before you take another step.”

  Silas ran a hand through his hair, unable to hide his admiration. Theo Whitfield owned these streets like she had back then, but he’d never admit how much he’d respected her all those years ago. Wouldn’t do. Kylock Industries had a future, and they never would.

  “Looks like I won’t need to go the usual route of back slanging it to avoid danger. You’ll just strut up and show your fists,” he called, quickening his pace to catch up. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t handle himself. He kept at least five knives on his person as well as a clockwork grenade, even carrying some of the one-note aether-bombs for more extreme situations.

  “We need a spot out of public view so I can perform this trace,” Theo said, her chin held aloft while she focused on a strip of old houses farther along that had since been abandoned.

  Silas hooked his thumbs in his trouser pockets and took the lead, figuring she’d want to camp in one of those nightmare shacks. As much as he’d prefer to return to working on his latest project, he needed to track down the prototype clockwork maid. He’d delivered a whole lot of bravado when Theo had been bartering. Truth be told, he’d used one of their diamond cores in the model, even though the regular ones would be running on quartz. The core alone was worth more than the price of the whole automaton, which Ellie Whitfield couldn’t have known when she’d stolen it.

  And if he didn’t find the core, his father would have yet another reason to tighten the reins on his freedom. Any hope of making enough to break away from the family business would be dashed, and he’d end up forever in debt to Kylock Industries.

  “You know how to show a bloke a good time,” he said as they entered the nearest storefront through a door that almost fell off when they opened it. “Have any other haunts you frequent, or is this one special?”

  Theo cast him the side-eye, her hand drifting perilously close to her pistol. “If you’re not going to help, then at least spare me the sound of your prattle.”

  He smirked, weaving past a few broken floorboards to what appeared to have once been a living room in a residential home. Stale light filtered in through the broken windows, but shadows swathed the rest of the place. Based on the rectangular marks on the wooden floor, furniture had once been here, but thieves would’ve gotten to this residence the moment it was abandoned. Apart from the quiet rustle of their footsteps, no other sounds followed—not the groans of the addicts, the murmurs of squatters or any other signs someone inhabited this place.

  Theo stepped farther into the central room of the home, stopping in the middle, where only dust remained. “Hand over the scrap. Let’s find this clockwork maid of yours,” she said, gesturing him forward with the abruptness of a flicked whip.

  Silas let the rucksack slip from his shoulder to drop to the floor. He crouched before rifling for the pieces of copper he’d tucked away. By the time he handed the scrap over, she had dragged a map out. The paper crinkled when she spread it along the dusty floor, sending motes tumbling around. He had to admit, as much as he ragged on her for shoddy performance, he’d never seen her practice her technomancy up close. With the jobs they’d crossed paths on, he had delivered the product and left her to her devices. However, with her skill, she’d developed quite the reputation amongst the tinker community.

  Theo crouched in front of the map of London, directing her intense focus to the intricate markings. In one hand, she clutched the copper squares of the clockwork maid, ones with his tinker’s mark on them. She pressed her other fingers to the map in front of her and closed her eyes. The conductor ring around her finger began to glow, the metals gleaming as if they were molten in a forge. Wisps gathered in the air from weighted condensation as a result of the magic she summoned, and he could almost taste th
e oily residue.

  Some technomancers were big powerhouses, tossing their abilities around with the finesse of a wrecking ball. Theo employed a different approach, the elegance and economy to her movements holding him spellbound.

  Her fingertips skated across the surface of the map as if compelled. She didn’t just wave a pendulum over the surface and point to a spot. No, her magic directed her fingers down one street, then another, following a quite specific path and pattern throughout London. The conductor ring began to whirr around her finger, pushing the power through it while she channeled those abilities into scrying the missing machine. Gusts of steam roiled around the room as by-product.

  Her eyes remained closed while her fingertips raced across the paper, traveling a predetermined trail. Those mauve lips pressed in concentration, while her long dark lashes were on full display against her cinnamon skin. The absolute surrender on her face when she channeled her inherent magic was the sort of beautiful he’d never be able to get off his mind. Silas should’ve left her to do this on her own. He knew better than to spend time around Theo—her very presence messed with his head.

  “There,” she said, breaking the quiet hush that had settled in the broken room. Her pointer finger rested on a spot in Camden Town. “The clockwork maid should be at that location.”

  Silas leaned forward with a stylus and marked the spot off on her map. “And what might your sister be doing in the next town over? The lurkers she hangs around stay close to the Islington borders.”

  Theo’s serious expression flickered for a moment as vulnerability flashed in the depths of her chocolate eyes. “I don’t know. The past couple years when she’s run with them, she only ever did jobs around Islington. Gangs get very territorial.”

  The change of pace didn’t bode well for Ellie or his clockwork maid, but Silas had long learned to school his features. He flashed her a smile. “Scared of a little trot across town, Theo? I can understand if the stroll might be too harrowing for a lady like yourself.”

  She shot him an acidic glare, the worry stealing away from her features to be replaced by her usual irritation. Good. He’d rather distract her for the time being.

  “If anyone might have difficulty trekking about town, it’d be you in your fashionable shoes, Silas,” Theo shot back. “Did you have to break the backs of five servants to afford those things?”

  “Your jealousy is duly noted,” he said, rising to his feet and brushing off his trousers at the knees. He leaned forward and extended a hand. “Now let’s get a move on with hunting down our quarry.”

  She accepted his hand even though she eyed it as if he’d coated himself in poison. Not like he blamed her—he’d been an ass around her for as long as he could remember. Silas had become so talented at hiding his feelings he often forgot where his true loyalties lay. Her smooth hand fit against his so well and the brush of their skin made his mind wander to inappropriate places.

  Theo led the way out through the door, the floorboards creaking with their footsteps while she folded the map to return to her pocket. Despite the worry for her sister shining clear in her eyes, she walked with conviction in every step. While he had his own concerns about retrieving the clockwork maid, they paled in comparison to Theo’s love for her sister, Ellie. The two girls had supported their sickly mother ever since their father had abandoned them. While Theo had gone the respectable route and Ellie had chosen to go bug hunting, every penny went to taking care of their mother.

  Theo would never accept his help. She viewed him as a traitor to their streets for getting the blazes out when the chance arrived. Yet he longed to take some of the burden off her shoulders—to aid the woman who carried her family’s troubles with a strength he couldn’t help but admire.

  Silas hooked his thumbs in his trouser pockets and followed her out of the dilapidated storefront and back to the streets of Islington. The trek to Camden Town might not be a formidable one, but it promised trouble either way. Because the longer he spent in her company, the more his mask cracked.

  Chapter Three

  Autocarts whirred by as Theo stepped onto one of the more bustling streets of Islington, while Silas kept a whisper away. This close to her, his presence rattled her brain more than she liked. Apart from the way they’d fought—sometimes together and sometimes against each other as teens, ever since he’d joined the gentry—their interactions hadn’t lasted more than moments. This was the longest time they’d spent in each other’s company since those days.

  She found it hard to ignore the uncomfortable feelings that emerged or the delicious smell of him, all earth and amber. Her hand twitched with the desire to run her fingers through his rust-red hair.

  Annoyance swept through like a summer storm. She would work with him until she found her sister, then, to bleach these noxious thoughts from her brain, she’d have to avoid him for the next century.

  At the moment, though, she welcomed even this distraction in the face of the dizzying fear that gripped her every time she thought of Ellie. Her sister had gotten in over her head, despite all the warnings Theo had given her to stay away from those lurkers. Already, the late afternoon haze had descended, the summer heat amplifying the piss and shit on the streets and the muck gumming the cobblestones.

  As much as she’d expected a constant stream of complaints from Silas, he soldiered on in silence. They wove their way past the thundering autocarts, all rattling wheels, burnished bronze exteriors, a complex system of gears and steam attached under the hood, and engines that propelled them forward. She’d fixed plenty for a couple of farthings in her day.

  She plunged onto the sidewalks with a quick pace, even though Camden Town lay a hefty distance away. The towering tenements and churches cast shadows, standing like sentinels over the rest of the area, their pointed arches and spires visible from afar. While plenty of buskers bustled around the open-market stands, wielding ham and bread like weapons in their defense against starvation, most of the crowd rushed along, not bothering to slow down and soak in their surroundings. No one wanted to soak in a place like Islington.

  “Do you still frequent the Bell Tavern?” Silas asked, keeping pace with her. “I haven’t seen those green awnings in some time.”

  Bitterness leapt to her tongue, a barb about what he’d left behind, but they had a long walk ahead of them and the normal haughtiness didn’t weigh down his tone. Theo sucked a deep breath, drawing in the musty air of the city.

  “I’ll grab a pint there every now and again, but the adventure’s dimmed from the years when we’d steal bottles of absinthe from the back of the house.” She offered a half-smile, the best she could manage with the way anxiety rode her veins. Back when Silas had run the streets with their crew, they’d been kids surviving knife fights, opium addicts and the hell this city offered.

  “My father was furious any time he caught word of the troubles we got into.” Silas fidgeted with his cufflinks, even while he kept his focus on the road ahead. “He had more informants than London has rats, so whenever I got into mischief, I usually ended up caught and punished in some shape or form.”

  Theo pursed her lips. “I didn’t know. My father had vanished by the time I hit my teenage years, but even when we had him around, I don’t think he was attentive enough to give a half-damn.”

  “Opposite sides of the same gobshite coin,” Silas murmured, refusing to meet her gaze. She didn’t often glimpse this side of him, a rare departure from the arrogant tinker she interacted with professionally. When he didn’t have a sneer on his face and barbed words on his tongue, the man could be quite handsome, arresting even.

  People bustled around them along the cobbled streets, and shifty glances turned in their direction even though they’d reached the fringes of Islington. Theo didn’t miss the looks. She lifted her Derringer and ran her thumb across the handle, stepping a pace closer to Silas.

  “You don’t have to posture—I see them too,” Silas said, revealing the dagger in his hand. “I might have left I
slington proper, but I haven’t forgotten.”

  In the distance, the streets curved and the crowds lessened while she followed the path to Camden Town. Most folks clustered around the town centers, and along this stretch were empty lots of beaten dirt or paltry grass between the infrequent storefronts or manors.

  Theo crossed her arms, striding in front of him, past shops in increasingly better repair than her side of town. “Well, it doesn’t help that you’re all trussed up like a dandy with those expensive shoes and cufflinks that your rumpled clothes won’t hide. It’s like painting a mark onto your forehead.”

  She couldn’t help but peek down every alley they passed. If her sister had gotten herself into trouble along the way, there might still be hints remaining. The shadows fell over them as she dipped down the first one to cut to a parallel street. Even with the decrease of chatter, the noxious smells rising from every curve in the cobblestones intensified.

  “Not like I don’t appreciate the fantastic things the trousers do for your legs, but appearance opens many more doors than you’d think. Make an enemy of the world and the world will do little to serve you.” A smirk lingered on Silas’ lips, and the heated way he scanned over her made her temperature rise.

  Trouble was, like always, she couldn’t tell if the surge was attraction, wanting to wring his stupid neck, or both. “And what does the world want of me? Simpering lady? Delicate flower I’ll never be? These streets forged me, and you’ll never be able to present live steel as a lily.” The irritation washed over her, flushing away the lingering fear that crawled through her veins. Based on the deliberate timing of his words, she wondered for a brief moment if he’d intended that all along.

  The streets grew narrower in this part of town, and trash overflowed in the alleys, out of the main view. She followed the maze of alleys past the main stretches, watching for marks on the cobblestones and scuffs along the walls. Always, always searching for blood or, worse, a body. Her fear multiplied the grotesque images in her brain of the poor blokes she’d seen splattered in an alley back home or dead on the floor in the middle of the tenement. Except instead of those drowned rats, her sister might be lying there.