“Now what is this favor you asked about?” Wilkins asked when their business was complete.
Robert gestured at Stephen. “First, introductions. The man across from me is a good friend and one of World City’s best bounty hunters, Stephen Grey.”
Stephen nodded in Wilkins’ direction.
“Stephen Grey, eh? I’ve heard of you. Even over here we get the Herald once in a while.”
Robert went on. “The lady next to Grey is Miss Bloodmayne.”
Kat waited for Wilkins to respond, but apparently he did not recognize her surname or didn’t see a reason to mention it. Her body relaxed and she let out a deep breath through her nose.
“Miss Bloodmayne.” Wilkins tipped his head toward her.
“Miss Bloodmayne is a client of Stephen’s. They are searching for a doctor. Recently I discovered this doctor is stationed over here with the military. We were hoping you could help them further their search.”
“What is the doctor’s name?” Wilkins asked.
“Dr. Latimer.”
Wilkins sat back and pulled at the bottom of his beard. “Latimer, you say. You mean Dr. Joshua Latimer?”
Robert glanced at Stephen before responding. Stephen gave him a short nod. “Yes, that is the man.”
Kat leaned forward, a fluttery, empty feeling in her stomach.
“Yes, I know him, or I know about him. I’ve never met the man myself. Heard he’s done miracles with our soldiers on the front lines. Saved many men from death. Why are you looking for him?” Wilkins eyed Stephen.
Stephen folded his hands across the table. “It’s personal, but I assure you, Dr. Latimer has committed no crime. My client is looking for information and believes Dr. Latimer can help her attain it.”
Wilkins’ mouth opened, then shut. He looked at Kat. “I see,” he said a moment later. “And this information required you travel to Austrium? During a war?”
Kat straightened. “Yes, I’m afraid so. I need to see Dr. Latimer and talk to him myself.”
Wilkins rubbed his eyebrow and sighed. “Well, the doctor’s whereabouts are no secret, and since you travel with Captain Grim, whom I trust, I see no reason not to tell you. However, you will not be able to reach him at this time.”
“Why not?” Kat asked before she could stop herself.
Wilkins frowned. “Because Dr. Latimer is stationed at Purvue, on the front lines.”
“Oh.” Kat sat back, the lightness inside her middle shrinking into a cold, hard ball.
“However, if he returns, he would most likely head to our main base at Ironguard, where the majority of our forces are. Perhaps we can help you get there.”
It wasn’t what she wanted, but it was better than not finding Dr. Latimer at all. “Yes, that would be nice.”
“It will be a couple hours before we are ready for departure. I will send one of my men to fetch both of you when we are ready to leave.”
Kat nodded, swallowing the lump inside her throat.
Stephen stood and held out his hand to Wilkins. “Thank you for your help.”
Wilkins nodded and shook. “Now I must go. Make sure you’re ready.”
As the others stood, Wilkins licked his fingers and pinched out the candle flame, then turned and headed for the outside.
Stephen and Robert walked a short distance away and spoke in low tones
Kat remained at the table, now dim with the candlelight snuffed out, and brought a shaky hand to her forehead. Now that they were finally here, the idea of finding Dr. Latimer seemed daunting. How could they possibly talk to him if he was at the front lines? And could he really cure her?
She stared at her hands, hands that had flamed up days ago when the Lancelot was falling through the storm clouds. Hands that could crush a man’s throat without even touching him. Just a mere pinch and—
Kat closed her eyes and clenched her fists. “God,” she whispered, once again finding herself drawn toward the unfamiliar being. “You’ve brought us this far, farther than I thought we would ever come. Please continue to help us. Please”—she swallowed—“please help me.”
Chapter
16
Kat rode in the middle seat of the motorwagon. The vehicle reminded her of the steam-powered phaetons back home, only this one had an extended, covered bed where the crates full of medical supplies were stacked. Two more motorwagons followed behind.
For two days the caravan had bumped along the dirt roads that weaved through the hills of Austrium. Heat waves shimmered along the horizon as summer took hold of the country, turning what were once green fields into hills of gold. Tall oak trees dotted the landscape and lined the road, shading the motorwagons as they drove beneath.
Kat wiped her forehead, thankful for the Austrium-style clothing Captain Grim had provided for her. The calf-high skirt and loose blouse beneath the leather corset allowed the occasional breeze to cool her skin. For a moment, she wondered what Marianne would think of her attire. Marianne would probably laugh and want to try on the outfit herself, proclaiming it scandalous at the same time.
A sad smile crept across her face and her heart ached for her one-time friend. Could things ever be the same between them if Kat found the cure for this thing inside her? Or would Marianne always remember that night at the gala?
The wagon hit a bump and tossed her toward the seat ahead.
Stephen’s arm shot out and caught her midsection. “Careful there.”
Kat sat back and adjusted her skirt.
The motorwagon rumbled for a minute before Stephen turned to her and asked, “How are you doing today?” His voice was low enough so the driver could not hear him.
Kat glanced at him. Did he mean in general, or was he asking specifically about what she had shared days ago, about dying inside?
“Nothing has changed,” she said quietly. The area was still numb around her heart, but thankfully it had not expanded.
The road felt like they were driving over a washboard. Her teeth clacked with each bump and her backside grew sore.
Stephen leaned over again once the road smoothed. “Have you thought about what you’ll do after this is all over?”
Kat placed a hand on the side of the wagon and watched the golden hills roll by. She had searched for a cure—and for Dr. Latimer—for so long, it had been some time since she’d thought about any life past that. Other women at the Tower had talked about their futures—to apprentice for the Tower, to work at the hospitals and perhaps even assist in the surgery theater, or to teach at secondary schools—and some had even secretly talked about marrying and raising a family.
But it had been a long time since Kat had let her mind—or her heart—go there. She tapped the metal railing. “I don’t know. I enjoy teaching, Maybe I could find a job as a teacher or even a professor. I’m also interested in the medical field. A nursing school opened up just outside World City a couple months ago.”
“What about a family?”
Kat jerked her head toward Stephen. Was he saying something? Her heart beat faster at the thought. She had no real experience with family herself. Her mother had died during childbirth and her father was barely home during her childhood. But she had read stories about families, about love, romance, and a lifelong bond. Sure, they had been penny novels, but still . . .
What would a life be like with Steph—
The field next to them exploded in a cloud of dirt and grass. The boom echoed between the trees and hills.
Stephen grabbed her and pulled her against his chest, shielding her. Another explosion sounded to their right.
Kat craned her neck to the side. “What’s going on?”
Stephen shook his head, his face tight.
“Move it, move it!” their driver yelled. The motorwagon whined and jumped forward.
Kat pulled back and glanced outside the wagon, Stephen’s arm still around her shoulder. More explosions popped up across fields.
“What’s happening?” Stephen yelled toward the driver betwee
n blasts.
“Not sure,” the driver shouted over his shoulder. “We are a little ways from the base. It must be under attack, and we’re just a target of opportunity. Although I don’t know how Austrium forces could penetrate this far onto our side.”
The motorwagon roared as it flew down the dirt road. More explosions detonated all around them.
Kat looked back. The other two motorwagons were racing behind them, but as she watched, something small and metallic fell from the sky, hitting the last one.
Boom!
The motorwagon jumped into the air, then split into a dozen pieces, disappearing into a billow of smoke and licks of fire.
Kat turned away, her heart inside her throat. Time seemed to slow, and her mind continued to reconstruct the wagon blowing up, the look on the driver’s face right before the explosion, over and over again, until her middle hurt. All it would take was one of those strange objects dropping on them and—
She shook her head, sucking in air. No, she couldn’t go there. She pried open one eye. High above the wagon tiny brass objects zipped across the bright blue sky like dragonflies. One flew near their motorwagon on Stephen’s side and dropped a circular object—small and metallic, the size of a child’s ball—a couple feet from the window.
“Kat!”
Stephen shoved her down onto the seat, covering her body with his as a loud boom went off. Ringing filled her ears as the wagon tilted to the side. Stephen’s full weight pressed down on her until she could hardly breathe.
The wagon jerked upright with a shudder and smoke filled the air.
Kat coughed and stared up at the canvas ceiling, her ears still ringing. Stephen’s head rested just below her chin. “Stephen?” She pushed against his shoulders, but he didn’t move. Something sticky trickled across her fingers. She drew her hand back. Blood. “Stephen!”
A scarlet trail trickled down the side of his neck and dripped onto her blouse.
The motorwagon rumbled beneath her as the driver started up the engine and the wagon lurched forward again.
“Stephen!” Kat shook his shoulders. Had he been hit by the blast? Where was the blood coming from?
She could hardly breathe under the weight of his body, his blood slowly dripping across her neck and chest. She sucked in another breath. “Stephen,” she said in a choked whisper. “Don’t be dead. Please.”
The sky flew by outside the window as she struggled out from beneath him. Panting, she leaned against the back of the seat with Stephen’s head across her lap. The blood was coming from somewhere behind his head.
Kat squeezed her eyes shut. God, please help us! He was up there, right? Maybe he didn’t care about monsters like her, but Stephen was a good man. “Don’t let him die, please, God. He’s all I have left. If he dies, who will help me?”
Stephen groaned.
“Stephen?” Kat opened her eyes and coughed against the smoke.
Stephen placed a hand on the seat and pushed himself up. “Where am I—ugh!” He covered his face with his hand and his body trembled.
Kat pushed herself up farther, part of her skirt still trapped beneath his leg. “We’re in Austrium, in a motorwagon.”
His hand never left his face. “I don’t feel well.” The motorwagon turned a sharp corner, sending them both flying. Kat slid across the seat and hit the door. Stephen slammed into her a moment later. He let out another groan.
“You both all right back there?” the driver asked.
“No!” Kat helped Stephen back up. His eyes were wide and a sheen of sweat covered his forehead. “My companion is injured!”
“Don’t panic. We’re almost to the base.”
Kat glanced up. Sure enough, nestled between two hills ahead were thousands of canvas tents. Smoke and fire dotted the camp. Seconds later, tiny metallic globes fell across the camp, followed by multiple booms and smoke.
The driver let out a curse and swerved out of the path of one of the metallic globes as it hit the dirt road ahead of them.
Boom!
Dirt, grass, and rocks flew into the air. Kat ducked down and covered her face. I hate this. I hate this place. I hate these things!
A hand brushed her head. Kat looked between her fingers. Stephen stroked her hair, his eyes slightly out of focus, like he’d had one too many drinks.
The wagon rumbled toward the outskirts of the base as a strange, motorized grinding noise filled the air. The sound grew louder and louder, punctuated by sharp, shrieking whistles every few seconds. From beyond the base’s perimeter, brass machines the size of small carriages walked out on two frog-like legs. A small window encased the front of each where the driver sat. Steam rose from the pipe that ran up the backsides of the machines.
The machines’ cannon-like arms rose and another set of high-pitched whistles filled the air as projectiles erupted from the end of the arms. Like arrows, the tiny missiles wove through the air and hit the brass contraptions zipping across the sky.
One of the flying contraptions fell near the road as the wagon sped through the opening to the base. Kat caught a glimpse of the machine—a brass dragonfly-like device with a metal globe clutched beneath its abdomen. One of the men from the checkpoint ran out and retrieved the contraption.
Once inside the perimeter, the driver of their motorwagon pulled back on a lever and the wagon swerved to a stop beyond the first row of tents. The other wagon rolled up next to them, and Wilkins hopped out of it before the driver turned off the engine.
“Anyone hurt?” he yelled over the shrill whistles. He came up to Kat’s wagon and looked in. Stephen sat against the back of the seat, his eyes closed, his face pale.
“One of the passengers was hit by shrapnel.” Their driver got out and opened the door on Stephen’s side as another bipedal transport walked by, its cannon arms raised and ready to fire.
“And you, Miss Bloodmayne?”
Kat shook her head in a daze, distracted by the loud noise, the brass war machines lumbering by, and Stephen. She placed a hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “No, I’m fine, but Stephen—”
“Will be taken directly to the medics.”
Her shoulders sagged and she glanced back at Wilkins. “Thank you, Sergeant.”
A few more blasts and whistles went off, but they were fewer in number and no longer in the base. The driver helped Stephen out of the wagon. Stephen wobbled as he placed his feet on the ground.
Kat held her skirt back and scrambled out behind them, her stomach knotted like a tangled ball of yarn.
Smoke billowed between the canvas tents. Shouts went up unseen. Soldiers in olive green uniforms scurried here and there, making the base look like a prodded ants’ nest.
Wilkins approached their driver, and the two men assisted Stephen down the main dirt path. Kat quickly followed. From behind, she saw matted blood and hair around a large gash at the base of Stephen’s head, and splotches of blood and torn fabric indicated multiple small lacerations across his shoulders and back.
She held a hand to her mouth. “Oh, God, please help him,” she whispered.
A moment later, Stephen hunched over and heaved. The contents of his stomach came up and landed on the hardened dirt.
“We’ll send someone to clean that up,” Wilkins said, helping Stephen back up. “Right now we need to get him to a doctor.”
Kat bypassed the mess and nodded, her throat so tight she couldn’t talk even if she wanted to. She knew very little about head injuries, and had no idea how grave Stephen’s was.
After a couple minutes, they approached a set of tents designated with a white star in the middle of a blue circle. At the end of the row stood the main tent with the medical symbol and a number one above the entrance. The men took Stephen there.
The interior of the tent was one cavernous room filled with four long rows of cots—a hundred at least—over half of which were occupied by injured men. The scent of blood and smoke filled the area.
Kat covered her nose and followed Wilkins and the driv
er as they lowered Stephen onto the nearest available cot. Women and men dressed in light blue uniforms with white aprons rushed between the rows. A couple women marked strips of cloth and tied them to the cots. Others bandaged up wounds or administered spoonfuls of what looked like laudanum.
In the back of the tent, tables were set up. A robust woman dressed in blue and two men dressed in white lab coats were talking and pointing around the tent.
“I’m sorry, miss, but we need to get back to the convoy.”
Kat turned back and nodded to Wilkins. “Thank you for bringing us here.”
“My pleasure. I will let Commander Powell know you are here. Usually civilians are required to check in, but with Mr. Grey injured, I’m sure he’ll understand why I brought you both here instead. I can assure you Dr. Emmett and Matron Foskey will do all they can to help Mr. Grey. Until then . . .” Wilkins tipped his head and he and the driver left.
Kat stood there, her arms wrapped around her middle. Muffled moans and cries drifted around the tent. The man in the cot next to her began to cough up blood. Two soldiers entered with another man, his uniform singed and smelling of burnt flesh. They placed him in the cot across from her. Two nurses rushed down the row, one toward the man coughing, the other toward the burned man.
Kat collapsed at the end of Stephen’s cot and held her face in her hands. Her head felt light, like her conscious self was drifting away from her body. All she had to do was let go, and she would no longer hear or smell or see the pain around her. She could drift along in the weightlessness of her mind—
She clenched one hand and looked up. No. I need to stay here, for Stephen.
She straightened and turned toward Stephen. His eyes were closed, his face still pale. She moved along the edge of the cot until she was sitting at his side, then reached over and took his hand and held it between her own. “I’m here, Stephen,” she whispered. “Just hold on. Help is on the way.”
Chapter
17
“Help is on the way.”
Awakened Page 10
