by Phil Foglio
“That must’ve been what was out in the woods.” She said. “What’ll we do?”
Krosp looked at Agatha like she’d lost her mind. “It’s coming this way! What we do is run!”
Agatha gripped her gun. “No! I’ve got to help!” So saying, she leapt over the edge of the ridge and skidded down the rocky slope toward the valley floor. While the incline wasn’t dangerously steep, she found that she was traveling faster than she had expected—and the weight of the gun she held in both hands made for some challenging problems in applied momentum.
When she reached the bottom, the wagon was hurtling towards her. Its canvas back had been charred by a close shot of the clank’s green fire, and smoke poured from the remaining covering. In the back of the wagon, Agatha saw Olga, huddled down low, gripping a strut.
The wagon slowed as the horses reached a rise in the road. The clank raised its intact claw up high, then swept it down hard. At the same time, Agatha raised her newly-built gun to her shoulder and fired.
The claw smashed onto the back of the wagon, causing it to collapse and sending the rear wheels spinning off to either side. The passengers flew from the damaged vehicle, flailing in midair. An explosion erupted from the back of the clank and its rearmost right leg blew free. The giant machine rocked wildly for a moment, found its balance, and then spotted the wagon’s driver on the ground. The man was groggily beginning to sit up when he turned to see the great clank looming over him. He screamed as it prepared to grab him with its rusty claw.
Agatha ran forward, trying to get between the man and the clank. If it followed the closest moving object, perhaps she could lure it away... but as she darted in front of the man, the clank took another step, and she was knocked to the ground. She looked up and realized that she had fallen directly beneath the device.
It was a terrifying moment. The great clank squealed above her and its heavy legs pounded the ground around her as it shifted its weight. Agatha swung her gun straight up and fired it directly into the clank’s undercarriage. The resulting blast took her breath away and she gasped as she scrambled to her feet.
The clank wobbled and staggered to the side. Agatha barely avoided one of the huge legs as she reached the man on the ground and hauled him to his feet. He stared up at the smoking device that lurched drunkenly above them.
“It’s still going!” he marveled.
Agatha yanked him out of the way of a falling bit of metal. “I hit the main engine.” She could hear the increasing distress of the mechanism. “It’s finished, it just doesn’t know it yet.”
Olga was still crumpled where the wreck of the wagon had thrown her. Agatha ran toward her with the man close behind. “You!” Agatha shouted as she ran. “Olga! Get up!” The crab clank, smoke pouring from its carapace, was slowly swiveling towards them. “Get up! Get—Ah!” The two runners jerked to a halt. As they came close they could see that Olga had landed head-first on a jagged patch of exposed rock. She was quite obviously dead. The man dropped to his knees. “Olga!” he moaned, “oh no!”
Suddenly a sound behind them made them turn. There was the clank, smoke and sparks now pouring from its joints, its gigantic metal claw descending towards them.
“LOOK OUT!” Agatha shouted. At the last second, she shoved the distraught man aside.
Agatha screamed as the claw closed, and the great lens flared. A green flash of energy lanced from the eye of the clank, igniting its captive’s skirt, hair and flesh in a ball of greasy flame. It dropped its victim and began to turn—
But the repeated firing of the clank’s heat weapon had been too much. The resilient, Spark-created energy source that had powered the damaged machine through its final rampage finally gave way, and the crab clank exploded. Flaming machine parts flew through the air, as the great metal legs slowly crashed to the ground like falling trees.
Krosp raced toward the wreckage, shouting for Agatha. At the same moment, a group from the circus wagons appeared, running up the road toward the man who was staring, horrified, at the charred figure at his feet.
CHAPTER 2
Hark to the laughter of a Spark—
All Good Folk be home by dark.
—Folk Rhyme
His memories of that day were, for the most part, blurred. So much time had passed since then—and so many, many things had happened in that time. Still, that day’s final scene would remain sharply etched in Klaus’ memory forever. It was a scene he had replayed a thousand times in his head—the last time he had ever seen her.
Where had he made his mistake?
The room itself was an intimate chamber set high in a corner tower of a castle in the mountains—somewhere in the tangle of little kingdoms that sprawled north of Mechanicsburg. The view over the surrounding town was breathtaking, a panoramic sweep that carried the eye out across the wide valley and all the way to the encircling, snow capped mountains. Although it was late, countless lights twinkled below, echoes of music and laughter floating through the tower’s leaded-glass windows.
The celebration had been going on all day. It would still, he was sure, be going strong when dawn came. The day before, the people of this town had been the terrified slaves of the Chatelaine of Red Glass, but that had all ended when Bill and Barry, the legendary Heterodyne Boys, accompanied by Klaus, Lucrezia Mongfish, and Zzxzm, the sentient magnet[9] accidentally crashed their airship into the ornamental fountain of Ruby Glass Castle. There, they discovered the hidden caverns beneath the town, and the terrible secrets they contained.
It was now forty-eight hours later. The Chatelaine’s army of luminescent fungus men had been destroyed, every hapless captive freed.
The Chatelaine’s death had been cause for rejoicing and celebration throughout the town, but it had cast a pall among the Heterodyne party. Bill and Barry always wanted to reform their enemies, not kill them. They would happily battle rampaging monsters with electrical grenade throwers or earthquake machines, but they were convinced that anyone, given a chance, could change their ways and work together to make Europa a better place. Whenever they failed, whenever a Spark was killed, they saw it as a personal failure. When the townspeople first realized they were free, the Heterodynes had silently tolerated the inevitable cheers and back-slapping; but when the music and beer had begun to flow, they had quietly slipped away. Klaus had tried to talk to them as they left, but Barry had pushed past him, growling: “I will accept that sometimes a villain has to die, but I’ll be damned if I’ll take free drinks for doing it.”
It had taken hours for the rest of the Heterodynes’ friends to escape the parties, and when they finally returned to the Castle, they had not been terribly surprised to find only a note waiting for them. Bill and Barry had gone on ahead, off to deal with a runaway knitting automaton in a neighboring town.
Klaus understood the Heterodynes’ feelings, but he had seen the spore-chambers. And smelled them. Lucrezia had lured the Chatelaine inside with her shadow puppets, and he had unhesitatingly thrown the lever on the great glass furnace. Some things were best cleansed by fire.
It had all been followed by a long day of listening to boring speeches, and aiding in the selection of a new town council. Finally, Klaus and Lucrezia were alone with each other. It was the first time in over a week, but Klaus felt like it had been months.
The room itself was only small by the rather grand standards of the rest of the castle. It was entirely dominated by a colossal curtained bed. Layer upon layer of sumptuous hangings in a riot of velvet, satin and brocade were drawn back by ropes of gleaming tasseled silk, showing off yet more layers of gorgeousness. Exquisitely inlaid rosewood cabinets lined the walls. These were oiled and polished to a luxurious glow, which reflected the warm light from the lamps, and made it seem to hang in the air like a luxuriant golden mist.
When Klaus had first entered the room, he had wandered around a bit, opening cabinets. Idly, at first, but with more and more astonishment at each reveal, until he had finally given up and poured himself a
calming drink from the magnificently stocked liquor cabinet. Apparently, the Chatelaine had truly been a connoisseur of decadent excess.
Lucrezia, of course, loved the place. She had watched his explorations with open amusement as she stood in front of one of the room’s many ornate mirrors, slowly letting down her hair. When he had retreated to the bed, she had laughed and turned to face him.
Ah, that was a memory he knew would remain forever. Lucrezia standing, looking at him, slowly stalking him, her face taking on that hungry look she only showed when they were alone. She was dressed in a velvet bustier and a sheer pair of harem trousers—the ones he had purchased for her as a joke last time he was in Morocco. The joke was on him now. The trousers provided a tantalizing glimpse of her legs and clung to the lovely swell of her hips. She raised one arm above her head and posed, leaning on one of the bed posts. Then, still holding the post, slowly bent forward, deliberately straining her overstuffed top. He knew how much she loved to tease him, but he didn’t mind. It was a game they had played together for a long time now, and the outcome was always a win for both.
He allowed himself to run his eyes over her appreciatively, and was so caught up in what he saw that what she was saying didn’t register for almost half a minute. When it did, it jolted Klaus out of his reverie cold.
“You what?”
Lucrezia smiled and exaggeratedly rolled her eyes before turning away. She gently swayed her hips as she selected a dusty cut glass ewer and slowly poured something cherry red into a small crystal goblet.
“There’s no need to shout, darling,” she sighed in that breathy tone of hers that always sent shivers down his spine. She turned about and posed again, with the drink in her hand. “I’m going to marry Bill Heterodyne. He asked me yesterday... finally.”
She raised the glass to her lips, but paused as Klaus interrupted.
That had been very well played.
“Lucrezia, are you out of your mind?”
She laughed delightedly and with a single, graceful move, moved onto the bed before him. Her hand slid delicately along his jaw. “Oh, you’re so sweet,” she said. She then sharply slapped him, and began to breathe a bit faster. “I knew you’d take it hard.” She bit her lower lip and looked into his eyes.
She had amazing eyes. Green, deep and oh, so dangerous. “But I’m going to do it. I’m going to renounce my father’s work and join up with the ‘Good Guys.’”
Before Klaus could reply, she’d spun about and leaned back against his broad chest. This afforded him both the fragrance of her hair, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and carbolic acid, and a magnificent view of her cleavage. That was so like her. Lucrezia would never play only a deuce when she had a death ray as well.
Klaus closed his eyes. This didn’t really help. “Oh, and I don’t count?”
She shrugged against him. “Oh, Klaus. You may work with them—but you have far too much of a dark side of your own.”
Klaus tried to analyze this. Thinking was always so... difficult with this woman around. “Oh?” he squeezed her shoulders gently. “So do you.”
She laughed delightedly, spun about again and was kneeling in his lap, one hand gently tousling the back of his head. “Oh, I certainly do! But that’s what you like about me, isn’t it?”
His eyes flicked down momentarily. They both smiled. “One of the things,” he conceded. His arms tightened around her.
She made a small movement with the hand holding the goblet. He loosened his grasp. She daintily placed the drink—
the still untouched drink—
on the bedside table, and then suddenly, she was on the other side of the mattress, just out of his reach, coyly looking at him over one exquisite shoulder. The light was perfect.
Had she planned that?
“Now Bill knows that I’m bad, but he thinks I can change.”
Klaus snorted. “He’s wrong. They think that about everybody. I know you too well. You’ll soon be bored out of your mind, and you’ll try something.” He had a sudden moment of realization. “In fact, this is probably all one of your schemes right now, isn’t it?”
That had thrown her. Klaus knew he had been one of the very few people who could do that, which probably explained everything. Had it been too late, even then?
She looked at him seriously, no doubt for the only time that entire day.
“No, Klaus. This isn’t a game. I am determined to change. I do love him. It should be enough.” A brief look of frustration flickered across her face. “Besides, they always win. There must be something to their philosophy.”
There. Then. That was when he should have gotten out of bed. Commandeered a coach, or an airship, or anything. Left town and gone back home. Locked himself in and got to work in his long-neglected laboratory on something... anything that didn’t involve tearing across the countryside with bombastic heroes and their barking mad enemies and their enemies’ beautiful daughters... instead, he’d been weak, fool that he was. Instead, he had simply leaned forward and fixed her with a stern look.
“This isn’t about philosophy,” he growled. It came out louder than he had intended. “Bill is my friend. I won’t let you—”
She looked up at him and smiled. “Is that how you plan to change my mind?” she whispered, “By shouting at me?”
And then her mouth was under his lips, her body locked in his arms, and he in hers...
Much later, the lights of the village below still gleamed in the darkness as they collapsed for the final time. Klaus lay back, breathing deeply, the sweat drying from his skin. Lucrezia opened her eyes and languidly rolled atop him. Klaus’s eyes opened wide in disbelief, but she merely began to gently tease her fingertips along the great scars that covered his chest.
Klaus relaxed and sighed in contentment, then reached out and snagged the goblet that Lucrezia had oh-so-casually placed next to him. He gratefully drank it down. The liquor was sweet and crisp, with an unfamiliar tang.
Lucrezia watched him with heavy-lidded satisfaction, then a wistful smile spread across her face. “Oh Klaus,” she whispered. “I will miss you. But I’m afraid I simply can’t have you around complicating things.” She ran her fingertip along his shoulder. “If only by being such a temptation.” She sighed and snuggled against him. “I’m afraid you really will have to go,” she said in a small, sad voice.
Klaus had smiled. “Hah!” he chuckled, “Anghowr d’jer thirg yg—”
He paused. That statement hadn’t come out as he’d expected. He’d stared at the empty goblet in his hand. The goblet Lucrezia had filled hours ago. The goblet she hadn’t drunk from. The goblet she’d—
“My dring,” he enunciated as clearly as he could. “Hyu pzind by dring.”
Her face swam into focus. She must’ve crawled right up to stare directly into his face—watching him with a charming scientific interest. “Not poison, silly,” he heard her chiding him from a thousand kilometers away, “I’m one of the Good Guys now, remember?” She leaned in and chastely kissed his nose. “Goodbye, darling.”
He reached for her as everything collapsed into blackness...
No, this was pointless indulgence. He had years ago realized that his grave mistake had not been made that night in the castle in the mountains. No, it had been made long before that, made when he had first known what Lucrezia was, and yet allowed himself to fall into a delicious, dangerous romance, instead of running for the hills as any sensible person would have done. Well, Sparks were not known for being sensible, but Klaus had liked to think he was above all that...
Baron Klaus Wulfenbach made an exasperated noise as he resurfaced from the memories that had held him captive. He shifted his weight trying to sit up, then grit his teeth in pain. At the foot of the bed, Doctor Merrliwee, a trim, serious-faced woman, glanced up from the machine she was adjusting and made a quick, no-nonsense gesture before returning her attention to her instruments.
The doctor’s assistant bustled over and adjusted Klaus’ pillows. “
Please try not to move too much while the doctor is working, Herr Baron.” Klaus ignored her and glared at the golden locket in his hand, the beautiful face of Lucrezia smiling back at him from the frame. Set facing her, in the other half of the locket, was a matching miniature of Bill Heterodyne—his old friend—so young—smiling happily. The painter had captured their likenesses with breathtaking skill.
Lucrezia had married Bill, as she said she would, and by all reports, been happy, for a time. He had been glad to hear that. But... what had happened to them? Where were they? Lucrezia had done such a good job of putting Klaus out of the way... it had taken him years to return home. And when he had...
He was no closer to knowing now than when he had fought his way home to find Europa in ruins. And now, after all this time, there was a girl. Lucrezia and Bill’s daughter. Raised by Bill and Barry’s old constructs, Punch and Judy, no less. And for some reason kept hidden away—a secret—apparently from him. Why? Hadn’t he traveled with them? Fought by their sides through all kinds of adventures? Weren’t they his old friends?
Klaus turned the locket over in his hand, and examined the back. It was a strange little device—and now that it was broken open—obviously much more than just a simple piece of jewelry. It had been taken from the soldier captured along with the Heterodyne girl back in Beetleburg, but it was obviously not the soldier’s property. It even had the girl’s name and address on the back. When questioned, the soldier, whose name was Moloch Von Zinzer, confessed to having first stolen the locket, then broken it by throwing it against a wall in a fit of rage. It was large and sturdy, the front decorated with the famous stylized trilobite of the Heterodynes. That, in itself, was not unusual. Throughout Europa, it was common for anyone with any kind of affiliation—to one of the Great Houses, old noble families, Universities, guilds or fraternal orders—to wear a sigil proclaiming their connection. A large pin at the throat was the most usual place for this little bit of heraldry. There were no official regulations about who was allowed to wear what—as long as one was willing to risk embarrassing misunderstandings, or even the possible wrath of legitimate members of the group in question—one could wear what one liked. The trilobite of the Heterodynes was worn everywhere, and simply marked the wearer as one of the vast group of people who loved stories of the Heterodyne Boys and their adventures. And yet... Klaus thought... for this girl—this new Spark who had slipped through his fingers, it had been the real thing—but how could he have known?
