by Devon Monk
PRAISE FOR THE AGE OF STEAM NOVELS
Tin Swift
“Action and romance combine with a deft precision that will keep readers turning pages—and anxiously awaiting the next volume.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Monk flawlessly blends fantasy, steampunk, and Western in this fantastic series.”
—SciFiChick.com
“An exhilarating adventure-thriller that grips the audience. . . . Fans will want to soar with the crew of the Swift as they struggle to survive the pact made by two evil essences.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
Dead Iron
“A must read.”
—New York Times bestselling author Keri Arthur
“The action is superb, the stakes are sky-high, and the passion runs wild. Who knew cowboys and gears could be this much fun? Devon Monk rocks—her unique setting and powerful characters aren’t to be missed!”
—New York Times bestselling author Ilona Andrews
“Beautifully written and brilliantly imagined, Devon Monk is at her best with Dead Iron.”
—New York Times bestselling author Rachel Vincent
“Fast-paced, tricksy, turning from one extreme to another, the reader will be drawn ever deeper into the ticking, dripping iron heart of this story.”
—Jay Lake, award-winning author of Green
“Powerful and action-packed, Monk’s pacing is hypnotic. . . . Keenly crafted characters and a deftly depicted landscape make this an absolute must read.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Monk’s entrance into steampunk is a tour de force.”
—Romantic Times (top pick)
“Monk has crafted a brilliant and gritty world rife with elements drawn from steampunk, blended with dark fantasy and a glint of glamour. She enmeshes readers in a fantasy adventure that keeps them on the edge of their seat, up all night unable to sleep until the fates of the main characters are determined.”
—Fresh Fiction
PRAISE FOR THE
ALLIE BECKSTROM NOVELS
Magic for a Price
“Breathtaking. . . . Monk is a storyteller extraordinaire.”
—RT Book Reviews
“The action comes to a blazing crescendo.”
—Gizmo’s Reviews
“Deserves to be savored . . . amazing and incredibly satisfying.”
—A Book Obsession
Magic Without Mercy
“Urban fantasy at its finest. . . . Every book is packed with action, adventure, humor, battles, romance, drama, and suspense.”
—Sacramento Book Review
“Fast-paced, action-packed, and jammed full of all manner of magical mayhem.”
—Monsters and Critics
Magic on the Line
“Dark and delicious. . . . Allie is one of urban fantasy’s most entertaining heroines.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Allie Beckstrom is one of the best urban fantasy heroines out there.”
—Fresh Fiction
“An action-packed series.”
—Night Owl Reviews
Magic on the Hunt
“An absolutely awesome series.”
—Night Owl Reviews
“Another nonstop adventure.”
—Romance Reviews Today
Magic at the Gate
“Allie’s adventures are gripping and engrossing, with an even, clever mix of humor, love, and brutality.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A spellbinding story that will keep readers on the edge of their seats.”
—Romance Reviews Today
Magic on the Storm
“The latest Allie Beckstrom urban fantasy is a terrific entry. . . . This is a strong tale.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
“First-rate urban fantasy entertainment.”
—Lurv a la Mode
Magic in the Shadows
“Snappy dialogue, a brisk pace, and plenty of magic keep the pages turning to the end. . . . This gritty, original urban fantasy packs a punch.”
—Monsters and Critics
“An intriguing read with fascinating characters and new magical elements introduced to the mix.”
—Darque Reviews
Magic in the Blood
“Tight, fast, and vividly drawn. . . . Fans of Patricia Briggs or Jim Butcher will want to check out this inventive new voice.”
—Monsters and Critics
“[A] highly creative series. . . . If you love action, magic, intrigue, good-versus-evil battles, and pure entertainment, you will not want to miss this series.”
—Manic Readers
“Imaginative, gritty, sometimes darkly humorous. . . . An un-put-downable book, Magic in the Blood is one fantastic read.”
—Romance Reviews Today
Magic to the Bone
“Brilliantly and tightly written . . . will surprise, amuse, amaze, and absorb readers.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Loved it. Fiendishly original and a stay-up-all-night read. We’re going to be hearing a lot more of Devon Monk.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Patricia Briggs
“Highly original and compulsively readable.”
—Jenna Black, author of Rogue Descendant
“Gritty setting, compelling, fully realized characters, and a frightening system of magic-with-a-price that left me awed. Devon Monk’s writing is addictive.”
—New York Times bestselling author Rachel Vincent
BOOKS BY DEVON MONK
The Broken Magic Series
Hell Bent
Stone Cold
The Allie Beckstrom Series
Magic to the Bone
Magic in the Blood
Magic in the Shadows
Magic on the Storm
Magic at the Gate
Magic on the Hunt
Magic on the Line
Magic Without Mercy
Magic for a Price
The Age of Steam
Dead Iron
Tin Swift
Cold Copper
ROC
Published by the Penguin Group
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New York, New York 10014
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penguin.com
A Penguin Random House Company
First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC
Copyright © Devon Monk, 2014
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
ISBN 978-0-698-14022-6
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
Contents
Praise
for the Age Of Steam Novels
Books by DEVON MONK
Title page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2: HOUSE ORANGE
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11: HOUSE ORANGE
Chapter 12
Chapter 13: HOUSE ORANGE
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19: HOUSE ORANGE
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30: HOUSE ORANGE
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
About the Author
Excerpt from INFINITY BELL
For my family
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you, Anne Sowards, editor extraordinaire, for making all of my books better and this one particularly shiny. Thank you also to my agent, Miriam Kriss, for believing in me every step of the way. Deepest thanks to the many wonderful, skillful people inside of Penguin who have gone above and beyond to support and create this book. My heartfelt gratitude also goes out to the amazing artist Eric Williams, who brought Matilda and her world to such vivid life.
To my crazy, dedicated, and lovely first readers, Dean Woods and Dejsha Knight—thank you both for all that you do on such tight deadlines. I couldn’t do this without you. A huge thank-you to my terrific family, one and all. Your support and encouragement mean the world to me. To my husband, Russ, and sons, Kameron and Konner, you are the very best part of my life—thank you for taking this journey with me. I love you.
Finally, my dear readers, thank you for coming along with me into this new world and letting me share Matilda’s adventures with you. See you on the other side.
1
They named the comet Mercury Star. Not for how brightly it burned, but for the star-shaped hole it punched into the land, and the rich, strange mix of minerals it left behind.—1603
—from the journal of L.U.C.
The way I saw it, a girl needed three things to start a day right: a hot cup of tea, a sturdy pair of boots, and for the feral beast to die the first time she stabbed it in the brain.
“You missed, Matilda,” Neds called out from where he was leaning in the cover of trees several yards off.
“No,” I said, “I didn’t. This one doesn’t have a brain to hit. Kind of like a certain farmhand I know.” I pulled the knife out of the crocboar’s skull and sank it into the thrashing creature’s eye before dodging out of the way again.
It lunged at me, three-foot tusks and long snout lined with crocodile teeth slashing a little too close for comfort. Crocboars weren’t smart, but they had the teeth, claws, and tough skin to make up for any intelligence they lacked.
“Now you made it mad,” Neds said.
“Not helpful.” I jumped out of the way and pulled my other knife.
“I’ve got the tranq gun right here,” he said. “And a clear shot.”
“No. Wait. I want the meat clean.”
Keeping property out here in the scrub meant occasionally trapping and taking down feral beasts before they damaged crops or the domesticated animals. Crocboars weren’t good eating, since they were too filled up on the nano that laced the soil of this land. But they made terrific dragon chow.
The beast thrashed some more, ran out of steam, folded down on its knees, and fell over dead.
Just like that.
“Can’t get over how quick those things fall,” Right Ned said.
“Who are you calling brainless, by the way?” Left Ned grumbled.
I shook the slime off my gloves—crocboars excreted oil—and glanced at Neds.
Most people stared, eyes wide and mouths open, when they first meet Neds. There was good reason for it. Neds had two heads but only the one body, which was never the most normal sort of thing.
Both of him had sandy blond hair cut short and soft blue eyes that gave him an innocent shine, when most times he was anything but. He was clean-cut good-looking, a few inches taller than me, tanned and hard muscled from farm work; something you could tell even though he wore a dark green T-shirt and baggy denim overalls.
He’d left the touring circus and was looking for a job when he saw the ad I’d taken out at the local feed store. I wanted a farmhand to help with the land and the stitched beasts my father, Dr. Case, had left in my keeping.
Especially since my brother, Quinten, hadn’t been home in more than three years, something that worried me terribly.
Most people had been scared off by one thing or another in that ad: the hard work, the beasts, or me—a single women holding down her own chunk of land far enough from a city we weren’t even covered by House Green, nor were we on the power grid. Neds never complained about any of that. He’d been a fixture on the farm for two years.
“Bring the net over,” I said. “We have some dragging to do.”
It didn’t take us long to throw the net over the beast and tug it tight so the rough hide caught in the rope fiber. That was the easy part. Dragging was the hard part.
I walked over for my rifle, picked it up, and took one last look at the trees and dry summer underbrush around us. Nothing else moved; nothing reared for attack. So that was good.
“Who gets this one?” Right Ned asked, tossing me a rope. “Pony or the leapers?”
“Lizard. I think it’s about ready to molt. It should be nice and hungry.”
“Just tell me we don’t have to boil down scales today and I’m happy,” Right Ned said.
I took a length of rope and slung it over my shoulder, and Neds did the same.
“No boiling.” We put shoulders to it and dragged the half ton of dead and stink behind us. “But we could have a little fun and scrape a few scales free while it’s eating.”
“Never have seen the fun in that,” Left Ned complained, like he always complained. “But if it pays extra . . .”
“It doesn’t. Same pay as every day: food, roof, honest work. And the pleasure of my conversational company.”
“Speaking of which,” Left Ned said. “Isn’t it about time we converse about a raise?”
“When we clear a profit, you’ll get your share,” I said.
Right Ned slid me a smile, and I grinned back. Left Ned and I had had that conversation daily since they’d wandered up the lane and shook on the terms and job. My answer had never changed, but it didn’t stop him from asking.
Lizard wasn’t hard to spot since it was approximately the size of a barn and was napping behind the electric fence. It was harmless as long as you didn’t move fast around it, didn’t look it straight in the eye, and didn’t poke it.
“Always meant to ask,” Right Ned said. “Where’d the lizard come from? Did your Dad make it too?”
“Yep. Stitched it up piece by piece.” We stopped dragging, and Neds and I bent to the task of pulling the net free of the beast.
“What’s it all made of?” Right Ned asked.
“Iguana, if you’d believe it,” I said. “Of course, bits of other things too—crocodile, kimono. No boars.”
“And how do you explain the wings?”
“No idea. Mom said Dad had a whimsical side to his stitchery. Said if he was going to make living creatures, he may as well make them beautiful.”
I threw the last of the net off the crocboar a
nd straightened.
The lizard stirred at the commotion and shifted its big shovel-shaped head in our direction.
“You stand on back with the tranquilizer,” I said, handing Neds my rifle. “I’ll heave this into the corral. Plug it twice if it gets twitchy. Takes a lot to put it down. Are we gold?”
“We’re gold,” Right Ned said. He stepped back and set my gun down while he pulled his tranq gun.
“You know no one says that anymore,” Left Ned said. “Gold isn’t what it used to be.”
“Gold is just the same as ever,” I said. “People aren’t what they used to be.”
I hefted the front half of the dragon kibble up off the ground, dragged it a little closer to the fence. It was heavy, but I was an uncommonly strong girl. My brother had made sure of that when he’d stitched me together.
“Did you ever ask your father why he stitched a dragon?” Right Ned asked.
“Lizard.”
“Four legs, four wings, reptile the size of a house.” He raised the tranq gun at Lizard who opened its yellow slitted eyes and then raised its head and rose onto its feet. “Dragon.”
“All right, dragon. Who knows? Mom said it was during his scatty years, shaking off his time after he left House White. Maybe just to see if it could be done.”
“So your dad gets a pink slip from House Medical and stitches together a dragon?” Right Ned shook his head, admiration in that smile. “Wish I’d met him. He aimed high.”
“I don’t mind high, but I wish he’d aimed smaller.” I heaved the first half of the crocboar over the metal wires. “Then maybe Lizard would go catatonic every couple of months like most stitched creatures of a certain size.”
I heaved the other half of the lizard’s breakfast over the fence. It landed with a squishy thump.
“And maybe Lizard wouldn’t be such a big, smart, pain in the hole to deal with.” I stepped away from the fence, but did not turn my back. Lizard was cobra-fast when it caught sight of something it wanted to eat.
“Do you think it could survive on its own, if it were set free?” Right Ned’s voice muffled just a bit from holding the gun ready to fire if the fences failed.
“I suppose. Well, maybe not in city. It’s never been on dead soil. Large things unstitch there, don’t they? Not enough mutant nano to keep them going?”
