by Lexi Ostrow
“Then, we can begin.” Determination washed over the pain that had been there moments prior.
“Yes, then we begin ushering in the winds of change.”
Chapter Four
Every part of Raven’s being ached – a dull throb that felt as if it began at the tips of her hair and tracked a path through her until it reached the tip of her big toe. While the minor twinge passed through her whole being, the sharp stab of pain in her neck was unmistakable.
You almost perished. Raven bit her lower lip. No, you were nearly murdered.
Tears sprung to her eyes, lining them with a thin layer of wetness that slipped effortlessly down her cheeks. She’d lost too many to the scourge upon the city, and it was time to find their end by any means necessary.
“I won’t let you have died in vain.” The whispered oath was not to her family, but to the guards who’d risked themselves on her behalf.
“That is a tall order.”
A warm, amused voice sounded behind her. Whipping her body to face the person who’d entered, she winced as the pain in her body drew a silent scream of agony and a clenching of teeth. She hadn’t recognized Christopher’s voice – but it was he who just inside the doorway to the chamber, a concerned look etched in his brow.
“I intend to keep it with my final breath.”
“Yes, well, according to my uncle, your dying breath could have been anytime throughout the night if your body did not accept the blood transfusion.” He stepped a few meters closer, barely leaving enough space for propriety. “I, for one, am quite happy with the results.”
A rush of heat washed over her. Christopher Abbott was a handsome gentleman, and it appeared he had a way with words as well. His golden hair was cut just short of fashion’s standards, and it suited him. His piercing eyes were somewhat a mixture of colors – near hazel, but still favoring blue more than the brownish hue of his uncle’s gaze. He was tall, but not far taller than her five and four stature and height had always been appealing to her. There was something about a man towering over her that made her shiver in delight. His physique had intrigued her as well, his muscles seeming all but to burst from the confines of his waistcoat.
His clothing was fine, not the shabby lab shirt and trousers he’d worn when she last saw him. His elegance showed by way of his clothing, yet his power showed in his hands. They were large and scarred. His hands did work rather than delegation. Christopher Abbott undoubtedly led by example, as did she.
There was no doubt, Christopher Abbott was without a wife by his choosing.
Raven had seen a photo or two of him, and yet, they’d depicted a man of smaller stature and slightly older. Which means photographs are not everything as the man before you is very much as close to perfection as you’ve ever witnessed.
She’d dreamt about him – and not in the business way, but in the family way. They’d been doing nothing inappropriate, but a ring had been seated upon both their hands, and their fingers rested upon a table entwined together.
Do not make him a knight. ‘Tis not the days of old. He saved you, but any reasonable person would have done so.
Still, there was something in the way his eyes landed upon hers that made her feel . . . wanted. She’d anticipated being turned away upon entering the guild. Perhaps it had been the attack on her life that made him so willing to work together, even in secret. She’d heard rumors of his stubborn streak, and the man before her had yet to appear stubborn, unlike his uncle, who had prattled on most of the eve, telling her what she could and could not do with her injuries.
No, the man before her was as regal as she had believed he would be and far too attractive to be unwed in an age where procreation meant humanity’s survival.
“Why do you take such stock in my health?” She felt herself nearing a blush under the way he stared at her.
“If you perished, it would mean waiting until a new leader was elected to begin working with your guild again. We lose the city little by little each day. There is not time to recreate the guise of the truce we established before I left you.”
The sense of disappointment that settled over her was entirely unnecessary. “Very sound logic, Mr. Abbott.” She anticipated him informing her she could call him Christopher, but he did no such thing. Very formal. “Would it be possible to send a communication to my assistant? I should like him to be aware of the impending situation, as he is likely beside himself with worry.”
“A message has been sent – not via courier, but through the electric wires my guild, and the aristocracy share.” Christopher shook his head. “My apologies, I am certain you have such lines to your residence.”
She did not, but she would not correct him. Her father had been adamant only to use what was essential from their rivals. Speedier communication across long distances had not been of great import to him, and she had not taken the time to have them installed since his death.
“So, he is aware I am well?”
“Quite. I also took it upon myself to inform him of the deaths of your traveling party, and that your mission was successful as we will spend a few short days collaborating to see if we can create something of use to the cause before deciding on the terms of a truce.”
Raven bristled at his forwardness. She should be thrilled he had the makings of a true leader and took matters into his own hands. However, only annoyance blossomed. “That was not necessary. I would have liked to communicate with him personally.”
Christopher shrugged. “I did not know if you would wake this eve. It was imperative he – and your guild – knew what became of you. I will not apologize for overstepping my bounds, but now that I know of your distaste for my leadership, I will not do so again.”
Raven was suddenly a little girl being scolded by her father or elder brother for not being up for a task – any task. Clearing her throat, she rubbed her hand over the stitched wound on her neck. “I apologize. It has been some months since any person, aside from my dutiful assistant, has taken my interests into account.” That was when she realized he said wake this eve. “Is it not morning?”
He chuckled, a lightness entering his features she found rather charming. “Your confusion is understandable. Forgive my amusement, and I find humor in the strangest of things these days.” He closed the remaining distance between them and took her hand in his for a moment, before remembering himself and letting go. “I found you shortly after the sun rose. You’ve slept the day away, but we are unable to leave at the current moment in time. Night has fallen once more, and I have no intention of a dangerous ride home.”
“You remained here? Waiting on me?” Once again, the desire to have him compliment her took over. Raven was not often one to be dazzled by a comely man, but she certainly was by this one.
“There was a guest of my guild attacked, and near death, I saw it fit to remain should your condition worsen.”
“Thank you,” the words slipped out barely above a whisper, and her cheeks flamed hot with embarrassment leaving her to hope they did not burn red for him to notice. Not since she’d first entertained a man during a courtship ritual had she ever experienced such humility.
“I assure you, it was a pleasure to know I’ve kept you alive.” He flushed and cleared his throat. “By way of my Uncle Martin, of course.”
Raven smiled. She wouldn’t swear by it, but it appeared Lord Abbott was as flummoxed by her as she was by him. “Are you able to show me the guild?” She was curious about him, but about the guild even more.
“That would not be wise.”
She recognized the voice from earlier as Martin Abbott, but hadn’t realized how striking a resemblance the two men shared with one another. The likeliness was so incredible they could have been father and son.
“Uncle, if we are doing what she requested, she might need to see the guild.”
The older man tsked. “I have little concern over guild secrets, my boy. She should not be up on her feet yet.” He turned to her, stethoscope around his neck.
“You gave us all quite a fright. It would be best if you simply remained in this room. Be – Christopher has rooms aplenty at his home near the palace should you wish to stay someplace . . . more in line with your status once I feel you’ve recuperated fully.”
The idea of spending time in Christopher’s home should have appalled her for a variety of reasons. Yet, here you sit, wondering if you’d be able to sneak a peek at him underneath all those clothes if you were to be in his home.
The blush crept up her cheeks once again. Christopher Abbott was handsome, powerful, and brilliant if he were going to be the skilled person working with her to contribute to the war against the disease. There were a handful of reasons she should fantasize about such a man rescuing her – rescuing the world even. And one compelling reason you should not. He is an Electrician.
“Lady Nightingale, are you well? There is a flush of color to your complexion that was not present moments ago.” Martin pushed the stethoscope to her chest and frowned. “And your heartbeat is erratic but strong.”
Lie. “I fear the events of last eve have stayed with me. One moment I am in control of my thoughts, and the next, they belong to something far more dangerous than I should dabble with.” Not a full lie. The thought of laying with any man the way you are doing is the behavior of a harlot, even if you do know a man’s body.
Christopher’s hand covered hers once more, and the warmth of it flowed through her. His touch was familiar, kind even. Her gaze shifted to where their hands rested together, but this time, Christopher did not move his hand. Raven’s heart scrambled to beat in her chest. She was coming undone by the simplest of actions.
“I give you my wor, you are safe within these walls, and anytime we need transport. I am not much of a soldier or a fighter, but we around those that are.”
Interesting. He doesn’t mind belittling himself and admitting where he is weak. “Thank you, Lord Abbott. I feel safe from the vampires with your hospitality. I do feel venturing to a home to work – away from prying eyes while we speak at least – would be suited for our cause.”
If he found her logic absent, he did not speak of it. “Very well. I will arrange for a carriage to take us home when the sun rises – we will draw less attention if we are pulled by horse than gallivanting around in a guild transit.”
His intellect was relatively . . . attractive. Christopher Abbott was often portrayed as a man’s man, but never as a man of science. She found herself rather intrigued to learn what the rumors were of her and her lifestyle.
Finally, she slipped her hand out from under his, feeling the rush of cold air with a strange sadness. A rumble in her stomach distracted her away from her sudden and rather dangerous attraction to the head of the Electric Guild.
“Martin Abbott, might I partake in a meal? I will eat it here if necessary to avoid detection by your guild workers.”
A smile lit the older man’s face. “You have your appetite then. Yes, I will bring it to you myself.”
“Uncle, there is no need. You have worked around the clock. Please, rest yourself. I will bring Lady Nightingale her meal.”
“Are you always so generous? Or are you perhaps hoping to make a solid impression on me in hopes to ensure the truce comes to pass?”
“Lady Nightingale, may I remind you, you sought me out.”
Chuckling, she couldn’t help but notice the way he turned away from her ever so slightly as he spoke. Precisely what people did when they were caught in lies. Christopher Abbott might not feel a foolish attraction to her like she did to him, but he wanted the guilds to work together. That much was obvious.
“Yes, well, I assure you, had you journeyed to my guild, I would not cease my day-to-day operations no matter what your conditions were.” Which might be a bit of falsehood given how I’m swooning over you.
It was he who laughed. “Very well, it has been an agenda item to realign with your guild for some time. I welcome the ability to do so, and if I am not being too forward, I am intrigued by the possibility of spending time with a woman who is intelligent, a leader, and exceedingly beautiful.”
Her mouth opened to respond in some fashion, but no words came out. Christopher was charming, and if she didn’t know better, might have been toying with her.
“I’ll see to that meal now.” His grin was unmistakable as he gestured toward the goose-feather pillow. “Why not lay back again? Your color is quite brighter than when I saved you, but I should think a meal and more rest would ensure you are well enough by morning.”
“Well enough, yes.” The sputtered words barely made it out of her mouth. She was too busy trying to figure him out. One moment, he was charming, and the next, pure business.
With a nod, Christopher Abbott turned and left as if the entire flirtatious encounter had not occurred, or was less important than getting her nourishment.
“That’s because it was all in your head. You find him something of a catch, and so you wish him to think the same of you. Focus, Raven. Save your guild, save your city, save the world. Leave matters of men for the damsels in distress.”
***
Raven felt the final vestiges of sleep slipping away as faint beeping sound replaced the emptiness of sleep. She had not noticed the chirps during her previous bouts of consciousness. The incessant beeping was quiet enough, but the repetition of sound was a like nail being pounded into her skull.
Well, let’s suppose your reaction means you are well enough to leave. Looking down at the needle in her arm, she noticed the long tubing no longer ran red with blood but was a clear liquid.
“Ahh, Lady Nightingale, so glad to see you have woken. Your timing is impeccable, really.” Martin Abbott stood mere meters from her, gazing at a chart. “I’ve only just walked in. My apologies if the door drew you from your recuperative slumber.”
Rubbing her head, she forced out the beeping sound. “I am uncertain. May I inquire as to what is occurring?” Lifting the tubing for reference, she gently let go of it, surprised to find a tape keeping it in place at her elbow now.
“You are receiving supplements—a vitamin concoction of sorts. Medicine Men utilize them as wonder potions. What this truly does is supply your body with components it lost due to injury – such as rapid blood loss.” Stepping over, he placed his hand just at the back of the needle and gave a slight pull. “No need for it at present. That is why I entered.”
Rubbing her inner elbow from the sting, Raven noticed it bled just a hair. “Am I well then?” Shouldn’t the pain have ceased, even a fraction?
His smile was genuine, and for a moment, she felt as if he could have easily been her uncle – had she ever had one.
“You have the proper level of blood in your system. Your wound has been stitched, and your vitals appear well. However, you are not healed, not even our marvels can seal up a grievous wound overnight.”
Nodding, she wondered just how long it would take and assumed his lack of information meant there was no certainty. “Are there any words of wisdom you have for me?”
Martin chuckled. “Yes, avoid traveling after the sun has set, my dear.”
She wasn’t positive if there was enough blood in her body to allow her to flush, but she was certain she was. “Aside from that.”
“Be cautious with movement. Wash with warm water twice daily, but do not scrub vigorously. Beyond those morsels, you are cleared and could return to your guild. Your youth certainly aided you in healing at a rapid pace. Your stitches will need to remain for a fortnight. Any physician may remove them.” His smile was warm, and his feelings toward her recovery were apparent.
Smiling, she pushed upright and swung her legs over the table, grateful for the breeches. “May I venture to find your nephew?”
The color drained from his face momentarily, and she wondered if some tragedy had befallen Christopher in such a short amount of time.
“Is he well?” Concern laced her words, and she hoped his uncle didn’t read too deeply into it.
“Oh, ve
ry. I apologize if I seemed startled.” Walking away, he dropped the needle and tubing into the trash receptacle and walked over to the table on the far side of the chambers. “Master Abbott, your guest is ready to see you.”
“Do you . . . do you have a communications system inside the guild?”
Martin turned back to her, revealing he’d pushed down on a small, black switch. “Yes, actually, the same as in the Steam Guild. Before the separation, our guilds shared much of their inventions.”
A pang of guilt slipped over her. Martin was of age to remember the past, he might know of what occurred. “Sir, are you aware of the great betrayal that fell upon our guilds?”
Martin cast his eyes downward, hands dipping into his pockets, and did not look back up as he spoke. “I know it is not something spoken of any longer, nor is it of any consequence if you and my nephew might seal a truce.”
The rushed speech was preciously what she needed to hear. Like her father and brothers, the Electric Guild members safeguarded the secret as well. She had never heard it, her family having been murdered, and the board was kept in the dark as well. Martin Abbott may be the last living soul to know of it, the age of the Electric Guild members pending, of course.
“Yes, I should hope we are able to come to an understanding. I was unaware he tinkered as I did. It is not oft leaders dabble in their inventions.”
Martin’s swallow was visible. “Yes, he is unique in that, as are you.”
“Lady Nightingale, ‘tis a pleasure to see you are well.” Christopher tugged the door closed behind him and flashed a charming grin in her direction. “I had hoped you wouldn’t wake until morning, but I believe our cook can whip up a delightful dish, and I can show you around the guild.”
Seeing his guild was far more desirable than a meal, as the mere suggestion sent her stomach rolling. “If I am permitted to skip a meal, I do not find it . . . appealing.”
