The man holstered his gun and turned the sleigh around, clucking loudly at the creature pulling it until it broke into an awkward gallop.
“Boy oh boy,” the man muttered to himself. “Wait until they see who I’ve got here.” He let out a surprisingly high-pitched cackle for such a big, gruff type. I stayed quiet not so much because he scared me, but because I was finally sheltered from the wind, which was a relief.
The ride was bumpy, at least from where I lay on the floor. The ice looked smooth, but we jittered and bounced, and the thing pulling us panted in a harsh rhythm in sync with my heartbeat.
When we slowed, I chanced a look up. We had passed through a carved archway, and doors slid shut behind us—doors of ice that blurred the outside world but didn’t cause it to disappear entirely. If I hadn’t been being held at gunpoint, I would have been thrilled by the engineering skill it took to carve an entire room and working mechanical doors from a glacier.
“Get up,” the man ordered, and I did as he said. The cold wasn’t so paralyzing indoors, but it still sliced straight through my coat. I wrapped my arms around myself protectively to keep the bulge of the satchel hidden as he shoved me down from the sleigh.
“Goggles and hood off,” the man ordered, and snatched them off my head before I could comply on my own. I chewed on my lip and waited for his reaction, my stomach knotted with apprehension.
He looked at me and then snorted behind his own mask. “You know, for all the flap about you back in the world, you’re still just a kid.”
“And you’re not a gentleman,” I responded. “What of it?”
He raised his free hand and pointed a scolding finger at me. “Destroyer of the Engine or not, Gateminder heir or just Grayson’s bastard—you don’t get to speak to me like that, and I’ll put you in your place next time you do.”
I bristled at the mention of my father. The destroyer label was going to stick to me—I accepted that now—but my family was off-limits.
“Now, now, Bruce,” someone said before I could slap the man across the face. The voice was full and resplendent, as if it should have been echoing from a pulpit somewhere. “That’s no way to talk to the favorite child of the Gateminder.”
I turned to look, curious about my rescuer. The man who’d spoken wore a white padded coat trimmed in fur, like the first man’s, but suit pants protruded from beneath, along with shoes shined to a high gloss. Not clothes for the outside, and not the clothes of someone low on the totem pole. His hood was down, and I took in a full head of white hair gleaming under the violet-tinged light that still danced through the ice walls all around us. “Well, well,” he said. “Aoife Grayson, in the flesh.” He frowned at me. “Do you know who I am?”
I recognized the blunt nose, not nearly as attractive on a man, and the snapping eyes. I tried to sound as if I knew what I was talking about, as if my being here having this conversation were normal. “You’re Valentina Crosley’s father.”
“Ah, very perceptive,” he said. “I see you’ve met my dear daughter. Tell me, how is she faring on her own, with your … father?”
I pretended not to notice that he evidently would much rather have used another word in place of father and put a smile I wholly didn’t feel on my face. “She’s well. They both are.”
He held out his hand, and his smile was also false. So we were going to be achingly polite rather than confrontational. That suited me just fine—I wanted the Brotherhood to like me. “My name is Harold Crosley, and I hope that you and I will get along very well indeed, Miss Grayson. It’s such a relief to have you among the fold.”
I didn’t take his hand. It was crucial that I choose the right response, if I was going to make the Brotherhood trust me. Or trust me for long enough that I could find the nightmare clock and figure out how to use it, at any rate. “Really?” I said. “A relief? A happy occasion? Do you think I’m stupid, Mr. Crosley?” I took a breath and kept going, even though I was quaking with the fear that they wouldn’t let me finish my performance and the big jerk with the gun would just shoot me for insolence. “You know what I did in Lovecraft,” I told Crosley. “You should want to throw me in a deep, dark hole and never let me see daylight again. Not only did I destroy the Engine and break the Gates in the Iron Land, I weakened all the others. Plus, I’m Archie Grayson’s daughter. The Archie Grayson who stole your darling daughter Valentina away.” I folded my arms across my chest in an imitation of Dean’s posture, hoping I looked tough. “And yet you’re happy to see me at your doorstep? Why is that, Mr. Crosley?”
“Why are you here?” he countered with a smile. It wasn’t the false smile he’d shown before—this one told me he’d been proven right about something he’d suspected. “If we’re so bound to do you wrong and you’re such a villain,” Crosley continued, “I’d have to conclude you’re only here because you want something from us, and that you’re going to try to use deceit to get it. I’d hate to think such a thing of a Grayson, young lady. Even if Archie and I are no longer civil.”
“You have something my father doesn’t,” I said. For once, I could tell lying wasn’t going to get me anywhere. Crosley was a lot more accomplished at it than I was.
“And what’s that?” His mouth twitched with amusement. He must have loved having somebody from my family need something from him.
“I need to look at the Iron Codex,” I said. My father’s journals had told me a little when I’d read them back in Massachusetts, but not everything. Not much of actual use. Short of being knocked unconscious, I didn’t even know how to reach the dream room, with its dark figure. I had no idea how to manipulate the clock should I make it there. I needed the Codex.
“That’s interesting,” Crosley said. “You need my Codex and I need somebody with a Weird, which we’re fully aware that your brother does not possess.”
Valentina’s hushed and frantic conversation came back to me. Now it made sense. Mr. Crosley wanted my Weird, and she hadn’t wanted to give me up. “Then you’ll let me look at it?”
“Maybe.” Crosley shrugged. “If your Weird can help us as much as I think it can.”
He didn’t trust me, that was obvious. “I don’t know how much my Weird can help anyone,” I murmured. “You’ve seen what it can do.”
“You’ll come to understand, Aoife,” Crosley said quietly, “we don’t revile you for what happened. We know how the Fae can be, and that it wasn’t your fault, the incident with the Gates. We’re glad you came to us.” He put a hand on my shoulder, snaking me into his grasp. “What say before we continue this conversation we get you warmed up somewhere a little more comfortable. Are you hungry?”
“Famished,” I said truthfully. Relief coursed through me. I was in.
Crosley smiled even wider when I assented. It was a sweet trap of a smile this time, the kind designed to entice little girls who wanted to show they were clever.
“I’m glad you found your way home, Aoife. It’s good work we do here, and the Gateminder and future Gateminders like you are needed for every bit of it. We’re glad to have you.”
“I’m so very glad to be here,” I replied, and let him lead me through the doors.
* * *
Beyond the doors lay a great hall, at least thirty feet from floor to ceiling. Icicles dangled from the roof. “Is this whole place made of ice?” I asked in wonder. I couldn’t conceive of such a feat.
“It is. And never more than thirty-two degrees,” Crosley said proudly. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of that outfit and into something that’ll keep you warm.” He marched straight through the hall, ignoring the stares of the other occupants. There were a fair number of people in the room. Reading tables lined the gleaming ice walls, along with workbenches, and there was even a depression in the ice where a pair of mechanics bent over the innards of a clockwork jitney.
“Why do you use those sleighs if you have mechanicals?” I asked. I figured the more inane questions I asked of him, the less suspicious he would be of any ulte
rior motives I might have.
“Engines seize up in low temperatures,” Crosley said. “That critter that pulled you in here with the sleigh—it’s a yetikin—bred for the cold.”
“I see,” I said, and forced a ladylike smile. I couldn’t care less about what pulled the Brotherhood’s sleighs, but Crosley seemed content to chatter while we walked, and as long as I acted like a simpering schoolgirl, nothing I said would give him a second’s pause.
“This way, my dear,” he said, and ushered me into what looked like a men’s clubroom: all dark furniture, distinguished suits and jackets on the occupants, and air full of their cigar smoke and heavy, hushed conversation. A carved bar took up the back portion, a bartender in a natty white jacket and scarf hard at work.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Crosley asked, sitting me in one of the engulfing armchairs. I sank so deep that I wouldn’t easily get out again, especially in my bulky cold-weather clothes.
“A cup of tea would be lovely, please,” I said. “Thank you so much.” I didn’t like being backed into a corner, in this chair, unable to gauge what was happening around me, but I forced myself to stay calm. Crosley wasn’t going to try to cut my throat, at least not yet. He didn’t know I was really after the nightmare clock.
“Well, now that I can get a proper look at you, you’re quite lovely,” Crosley said. “You remind me of Valentina, before her unfortunate decision to leave her place in society and take up a … front-line position in the Brotherhood, doing things unsuitable for a well-bred young woman like her.” The way he said it, lips pursing, left no doubt how he felt about his daughter’s allegiances. Apparently I, not being of the same breed of rich jerk, was exempt from such disapproval.
He excused himself to the bar and claimed a silver tea service with two cups and saucers. I watched him until somebody flopped into the chair opposite me. “Hey. You made it.”
I nearly choked when I recognized the face. “Casey? You’re alive!”
“You act like you’re surprised,” she said. “Takes more than a few ghouls to keep me down. Also, you trust people way too easy when you’re getting what you want. Your old man’s right—you need to learn if you’re gonna live to be seventeen.”
Rage flamed in me, and for a moment I forgot that I was supposed to be acting harmless. “You … you … backstabber,” I spat. “You’re not a street kid! You’re not even from Lovecraft!”
Casey wagged her hand. “I was born there,” she said. “I’ve been working for the Brotherhood for a long time, keeping tabs on the Rustworks and anyone who might be useful to the cause.”
“The Brotherhood was spying on me?” I was flabbergasted. I expected this sort of thing from the Proctors, but not from people who knew the truth about the world. “For how long?” I asked. Another, darker possibility was creeping through my mind like a hungry ghoul—if Casey had been following me, had she seen what happened in Innsmouth? Was I about to be thrown under the train before I’d even had a chance to find the nightmare clock?
“Until I lost you in Old Town you took off from the Crosley house for Innsmouth,” Casey said. “Lost you. Too many damn ghouls running around.”
My breathing started again, fast and full of relief. Casey hadn’t seen me with Draven. She hadn’t dipped below the first layer of my reason for coming to the Bone Sepulchre.
“So, this place is pretty crazy, right?” Casey said. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re bugging out.”
Glad of any topic except her following me around for stone knew how long, I nodded. “More than pretty crazy,” I said. “It’s beautiful.”
Casey sat forward in excitement, eyes lighting up as she talked. “We pull aether right out of the air. There’s a device in the tower that they say was designed by Tesla himself. You don’t need to refine it; you can pull a full charge and disperse it into a feed just like normal. That’s why it’s purple, not blue. No refining chemicals.”
That explained the “aurora borealis” I’d seen. Not light. Aether. The energy of the cosmos ripped directly from the air. A machine like that, especially one built by Tesla, would normally be something I’d be eager to see, but not now. Now, I was fishing. “Seems kind of boring around here,” I said. “No lanternreels, no books that I can see.”
“Oh, you’re wrong. There’s a giant library,” Casey said. “I know you’re a bookworm.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Exactly how long have you been watching me?”
“Me personally? Only since you rabbited from the Academy,” Casey said. “Before that, I couldn’t say if Mr. Grayson or someone else had an agent watching you.” She sat back in the chair and regarded me. “Nobody else can do what you do, Aoife. You’re important to a lot of people for that reason, and a lot of things that aren’t people at all. But I’m glad you chose us and not the Proctors.”
“Of course I did,” I said, shrugging as if there were no question at all. “I believe in what you’re doing. Draven and the Proctors are vile.” True. I knew it was always best to put a little truth in your untruths. It made you believable.
“Ah, Miss Casey,” said Crosley, returning with the tea. “So good of you to take Miss Grayson under your wing.” He grinned at me. “Casey is a very capable girl, much like yourself. She can show you to your room, order you some supper, and explain to you the kinds of tests we’ll be running.”
I paused, the teacup halfway to my lips. “Tests?” I said, pulling back from Crosley warily. Nothing that started with “running a few tests” ever ended well, in my experience.
“Relax!” Crosley boomed genially. “We just want to see what your Weird can do, and how much we can still teach you. We must use the Gates for good instead of as instruments of disaster going forward, and to do that we have to see where your talent lies.”
His hand landed on my shoulder, and the weight pushed me deeper still into the armchair. “Does that sound all right to you, my dear?”
That sounded just the opposite of all right. “I’ll prove to you I have my Weird,” I said. “But I don’t relish being poked at like a laboratory rat.”
Crosley folded his fingers together in a motion I recognized from when my professors were trying to make a pop quiz appealing. “Terrible what happened to your mother, Aoife. Just terrible. And young Conrad showed symptoms as well before he removed himself from the Iron Land. We know that if you stay away from iron, out of cities and such, the onset is slower, and comes not at all in Thorn, but if you stay in the Iron Land, you’ll inevitably go mad, and I think it’s a crime that Archie would never allow me to help him with his children’s … unique bloodline. I’m confident that with time, we can find a way to help you. So you won’t have to risk iron madness every time you go into a city.”
That all sounded, to put it mildly, just a bit too good to be true. “How do I know you won’t just chain me up and force me to use my Weird to do whatever you want with machines and the Gates?”
Crosley laughed. It was deep and wet, from the lungs of a man, I realized, who was gravely ill. His face turned crimson, with amusement or lack of air, I couldn’t tell. “Aoife, if we wanted to imprison you, wouldn’t doing so immediately after you’d arrived have made more sense than offering you a conversation and a nice cup of tea?”
I set the teacup back down and looked him in the eye. “There are all different kinds of prisons, Mr. Crosley.”
“Smart girl. So there are,” he said, “but this is not a prison, it’s a promise. You let me run my tests and cooperate, and I will not only give you access to the Codex, I will find a solution to your iron madness. A permanent one. You won’t have to end up like poor lost Nerissa.”
I twitched at my mother’s name crossing his lips. He didn’t know anything about us, spies or not. Nerissa had done the best she could. In our small apartment, before she was committed, we’d at least been free.
I didn’t let any of that come across to Crosley, and he spread his hands. “I ask again—does this sound equitable to you, young Miss
Grayson?”
I looked into his eyes and found the same falseness there I knew I was showing in my own. “Sounds fantastic,” I said dryly, but Crosley didn’t pick up on my sarcasm, just grinned again and left me in the care of Casey.
She sat with me while I drank my tea, chattering about the great cause of the Brotherhood of Iron, Tesla and his prototype Gate, and how she’d personally seen two Fae! In the flesh! “They were creepy,” she said, and shuddered. “Had hollow spaces where their eyes should be, and fangs.”
I didn’t bother telling her that she’d most likely seen something that had crawled from the Mists rather than full-blooded Fae. Besides, perfect faces with gleaming beauty and dead, unblinking eyes weren’t really any less terrifying.
After I finished my tea, she guided me to a guest room, where a cot piled high with furs and lit by the same eerie purple aether lamps greeted me. The Brotherhood, for all their status as fugitives, had means far beyond even the Proctors. Clean clothes waited for me, thick woolen socks and silk pajamas that trapped the heat next to my skin, and I burrowed under the blankets, some of the hides nearly as thick as carpets.
It was pure luck, burrowed as I was, that I heard the door lock from the outside. I’d probably been meant to fall asleep, warm and dry and full of soporific tea, lulled into a false sense of security by Casey and her uncomplicated nature.
That jibed a bit with what Archie had told me. I didn’t think his view of the Brotherhood of Iron was entirely fair, but I also knew my father wasn’t stupid. If he’d broken with the Brotherhood, there was a good reason. At the very least, I was the daughter of the man who’d stolen Harold Crosley’s own daughter, and I’d broken the Gates besides. Nobody, no matter their nature, was that forgiving.
And now I was locked in, and even if I wasn’t, they’d taken away my cold-weather gear. If I went back onto the ice dressed as I was, I’d be dead inside of ten minutes.
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