Steampunk Carnival (Steam World Book 1)

by Cassandra Leuthold

  “She seems to have her delicate little fingers in everybody’s pockets. Mr. O’Sullivan. Mr. Davies.”

  “Mr. Davies?”

  “You know the carriage driver. What else would Miss Romanova possibly want to speak to him about? I’ve checked his background. He’s a single man.”

  Magdalene turned her palms up in defeat. “I don’t know anything about that.”

  “What about the Mick?”

  “Who?” Magdalene could have kicked herself for playing dumb. She was letting Mr. Weis’ fast pace get to her.

  Mr. Weis pounced before Magdalene could recover. “The Mick. He runs the game stall fifty feet from this building. You know who he is. You’ve both been seen talking to him.”

  “Is that a crime?”

  “Nobody talks to him. Ever. Nobody’s heard him speak except to say ‘thank you’ to Mr. Warden for his salary. What business do you have with him?”

  Magdalene continued to offer her upturned palms in deflection.

  Katya’s forced and humored breathing carried their attention back to her. Beneath her lighthearted joking, she sounded exhausted. “Are we trying to marry him, too, Mr. Weis? My goodness, your imagination is better than mine.”

  Magdalene composed herself while Katya’s disbelief distracted Mr. Weis. “It was carnival business,” she assured him, her voice warm as if remembering. “Sometimes guests leave plates and mugs on the counters of the stalls. I was merely checking to see if I could pick any up.”

  “And Miss Romanova?”

  “She helps everybody. It’s what she gets paid for. I tell you, everyone thinks she’s so lazy, but when she does her job, people don’t like that, either. It’s suddenly suspicious.”

  Mr. Weis’ eyebrows tensed askance, but the fire in his eyes seemed to waver. “What do you have against Mr. Warden? Either of you?”

  Magdalene timed her response perfectly, trying to sound diplomatic and sincere. “What does anyone have against him? He works us hard, but that’s to be expected. He pays us fairly. We respect him, and we’re grateful for our jobs. We don’t have any major complaints against Mr. Warden.”

  Katya spoke up with new energy. “Did he tell you this was about Mags and me, Mr. Weis? Because it seems like Mr. Warden’s looking for an excuse to force us out of the carnival. He didn’t tell you I spurned him, did he?”

  Mr. Weis took so long to answer, Magdalene gave up on hearing one.

  “He wasn’t very pleased,” Katya added. “This was his suggestion, too, wasn’t it? Pitting us against each other? He knew I’d take the blows like a champ. Mags can’t stand to see me hurt. He knew she’d spill everything, and here we are. We’ve aired our dirty laundry in front of everyone. I hope you’re satisfied.”

  Mr. Weis looked hard at Katya and harder at Magdalene. Magdalene simply blinked at him, trying not to squirm and ruin everything.

  “You turned down Mr. Warden?” Mr. Weis threw the question at Katya, his eyes searching Magdalene.

  “Yes,” Katya piped up. “He hasn’t been happy about it, but I already stole Mr. O’Sullivan from Mags. What kind of girl would I be if I went around kissing everybody?”

  Mr. Weis shoved his hand down through the air. The two men in the other room let go of Katya’s arms. She draped forward, catching herself on her good arm. Her tortured limb hung uselessly beside her. Mr. Weis strode over to her and sank down on his haunches in front of her. He clenched his fingers around her chin and raised her face into view.

  “Breathe a word about this to anyone,” Mr. Weis warned her, “and we’ll break all of your limbs.”

  Katya nodded, her eyes showing crisp, clean fear.

  Mr. Weis stood up and walked back to Magdalene waiting on the other side of the doorway. He did not need to repeat himself.

  Magdalene nodded. “I understand.”

  Mr. Weis gestured for the men to follow him, and he marched them out of the building. The door clicked shut, and Katya let loose the longest string of Russian curse words Magdalene had ever heard.

  In seconds, Magdalene crouched at her side. “Are you all right? How’s your arm?”

  “Forget about my arm.” Katya met Magdalene’s gaze with blazing eyes. “Remember how you said to wait for a strange night to confront Mr. Warden?” Katya spat at his name, splattering the floorboards with more blood-tinged saliva. “It doesn’t get any worse than this.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Katya picked herself up off the floor, wincing at every minute movement of her left arm. She held it against her side with her right hand, unable to control it below the shoulder. She eyed the dust and dirt clinging to her dress, wishing she had the strength to brush it off. It could have kept her mind off the stinging in her face, although she could not ignore the closing of her eye. “I won’t protect Mr. Warden anymore.”

  “What do we do?” Magdalene asked.

  “Tell Brady to get the journal out. We’re going to confront Mr. Warden with it.”

  “Where?”

  “The Warden wheel, if he can manage it. It’s the tallest point in the carnival. His voice should carry very well.”

  “There’s still a lot of noise to take care of.”

  “I’ll find the water boys. They can carry a message to all the ride operators to shut down for a while.” Katya twisted her mouth wryly. “Mr. Warden’s orders, of course.”

  “What about your face?” Magdalene raised her hand to touch Katya but lowered it again. “Someone should send for a doctor. You should lie down until he gets here.”

  “Never. I’ll sit when the police drag Mr. Warden away in handcuffs.” Katya glanced around for her hat. The once-lovely accessory sat squished in the corner. She picked it up and blew dust off the crinkled crown, as if that were all it needed. “How’s my hair?”

  “Awful, but not as bad as your eye.”

  “I’ll heal, Mags.” Katya studied her friend with a newfound respect. “Nice lying, by the way. I hoped you had it in you.”

  Magdalene started for the other room. “I think we both gave a stellar performance. If we make it out of this with all our limbs intact, we should make a new career on the stage.”

  Katya followed Magdalene to the front door. “Wouldn’t that make Lizzie crazy? She’d go to the theater to get away from us, and there we’d be, right smack in front of her.”

  Magdalene opened the door, and they stepped out into the sparse grass. “Good luck,” Magdalene said.

  “I don’t need it. Send it to Mr. Warden.”

  Magdalene walked away toward Brady’s game stall, and Katya looked around her for the boys who carried the water buckets. A pair of them hobbled away along the side of the Beast, too far away for her to call to them. A few other boys ambled toward her, swinging their buckets with ease. Katya waved them toward her. They stared and squinted at her, her face bruised and her crushed hat in her hand. She tossed it aside like the irreparable thing that it was.

  “Boys,” she said, raising serious eyebrows. “I need you to do a favor for me. Mr. Warden wants you to leave your buckets here and deliver a message for him. Will you tell all the ride operators to stop their rides until further notice?”

  The boys bobbed their heads up and down.

  “I’ll take care of the Warden wheel, but you must tell all the other operators.”

  The boys abandoned their buckets and jogged off through the crowd. Katya opened the door to the storage room and snatched up the buckets. She stowed them away out of sight and closed the door.

  Katya tried to spot Magdalene and Brady through the crowd, but she could not. She fought her way across the current of guests to the game stall. Magdalene was not there, but Brady was. He turned his customers away, apologizing that rats had gotten into the prizes and eaten holes in them.

  Brady swore under his breath when he saw Katya’s face. “Those bastards.”

  “What’s going on? Where’s Mags?”

  “She got Mr. O’Sullivan to lure Warden out of his office. He’ll ge
t him over to the wheel, and I’ll approach him with the journal. Is this noise going to stop soon?”

  “Yes.” Katya realized she had forgotten about the band. She looked for more boys or even the charwoman, but she could not spot anyone who worked at the carnival. She stopped a young couple walking past with their children. Katya crouched down to eye level with the kids. “Would you like to do me a favor and help out the carnival?”

  The kids nodded politely, almost eagerly.

  “Would you please tell the band leader that the band can leave early tonight? Mr. Warden said they could all go home right away and get a good night’s rest.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the children chimed.

  Katya smiled at the parents, who eyed her face with concern. She waved to encourage them on their way.

  Brady leaned closer to Katya. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Katya said, regaining her right hand’s support of her useless left arm. Her satisfaction eased her grimace. “I’ll be better when Mr. Warden’s name is painted over on the carnival signs.”

  “It won’t be much longer.” Brady rubbed his hands together.

  Katya laid her hand on Brady’s arm. “Don’t be nervous, Mr. Kelly.” She glanced at a few customers who stopped by the counter. “The game isn’t running right now. I’m sorry.”

  They drifted on, and Katya peered desperately through the crowd for a sign of Maddox or Mr. Warden. “He doesn’t have a limb to stand on, not with the evidence you’ve got.”

  The Beast sputtered into silence behind the game stall. Katya’s lips perked up at the lack of rattling and roaring.

  Magdalene rushed up to her side. “Mr. Warden’s out now. Mr. O’Sullivan has him by the wheel. He’s going to get Mr. Warden to ride it.”

  Brady grabbed the journal from a box under the counter and strode around it. “He’ll ride it, all right.”

  Brady headed straight for the Warden wheel. Katya and Magdalene followed at a distance, hoping to stay out of Mr. Warden’s sight until he was in no position to come after them. The band finished its song, and for once, another march did not follow. An eerie emptiness crept through the carnival as rides shut down. Katya glanced over her shoulder. Several people were stealing prizes from the game stall, but that was the least of the carnival’s problems.

  Katya and Magdalene reached the edge of the crowd and stopped. Brady strode up to the ride operators, who were arguing with Maddox and Mr. Warden. Brady pulled a small handgun from under his jacket and aimed it at Mr. Warden’s stomach.

  In the increasing silence, over the murmur of the crowd, Katya could hear Brady’s commands. “Leave the people in their seats. They’ll want to hear every word of this. Warden, back up toward the wheel.”

  Katya’s heart skipped a beat to see the great William Warden herded toward the giant wheel like an animal. The operator had already stopped it, and Brady backed Mr. Warden all the way up onto the loading platform. Instead of clearing the bottom-hanging seat of its guests, Brady lingered with Mr. Warden in front of it. When Brady stepped back, Mr. Warden remained leaned against it.

  Brady waved the operator toward the controls with his gun. “Start it up. Stop him at the top.”

  The operator pushed a lever, and as the wheel slowly began to shift in its circle, it lifted Mr. Warden with it. He kicked his feet at the air, then suddenly stopped, his face white and pinched.

  Maddox bolted out of the fenced area, half watching Mr. Warden’s rise into the night and half searching the staring crowd. Katya raised her hand in a low wave, not proud to show him her swelling face. Maddox ran to her, grabbing her upper arms in his hands.

  Katya sucked in a breath at the shooting pains numbing her left arm. “My elbow hurts, but I’m all right.”

  “I’ll kill him,” Maddox swore. “Tell me who did this.”

  “The man who ordered it is twenty feet in the air. He might fall to his death before you can get to him.”

  Maddox glanced up at Mr. Warden, riding higher and higher along the wheel’s path. “Have you asked for a doctor?”

  Magdalene shook her head. “She won’t take the time. She wants to see this through first.”

  Katya watched Mr. Warden reach the full height of the wheel. It shuddered to a halt. Mr. Warden twitched every once in a while, no doubt uncomfortable hanging there by his clothes. He always stopped himself from moving too much to tear them.

  “I’ll kill him,” Maddox repeated, squeezing himself into the crowd next to Katya. He slipped his arm carefully around her.

  Katya winced as he brushed against her throbbing forearm.

  The band leader stormed through the crowd, emerging into the wide berth around the wheel’s waist-high fence. “Where’s Mr. Warden?” he demanded. “Some kids said we had the rest of the night off.”

  Half the crowd pointed skyward to Mr. Warden dangling from the wheel.

  Brady stepped back to the gate leading to the ride, partway between Mr. Warden and the anxious crowd. He kept the gun in one hand and raised the journal in the other. “Do you know what this is, Warden?” he shouted, a wild, excited look in his eyes.

  Mr. Warden tugged his shoulders against whatever held him. When it made his body swing to and fro, he stiffened his limbs against the momentum. “I don’t know,” he called down. “It’s hard to see it from up here.”

  “It’s a journal you threw away several months ago after you started getting death threats.”

  Gasps and whispers ran through the crowd. Katya nestled closer to Maddox to keep his reassuring presence beside her.

  “You kept those death threats from the public,” Brady went on. “Why?”

  “There was no need to worry anyone,” Mr. Warden insisted. “As you can all see, I’m healthy and very much alive.”

  A few people applauded, but most people stood motionless, staring and inhaling raspy breaths.

  “That’s not why,” Brady challenged, holding the journal higher. “You knew that someone from your past would be looking for you. Why else would you try to get rid of this?”

  Mr. Warden kicked a shiny, black shoe. His body swayed out from the wheel, and he promptly straightened his leg back under him. “Let me down. We can discuss this in my office.”

  Brady shook his head. “Oh, no. I’ve dreamed of this moment for three long years. Do you have any idea what you took from me, from the ghosts of my dead family? Do you have any idea who I am?”

  Mr. Warden sneered. “You’re a man without a job tomorrow.”

  Brady tore the hat from his head with a few fingers spared from holding the journal. His other hand pointed his gun at the ground. “Does my name mean anything to you? Brady Kelly?”

  “No,” Mr. Warden retorted.

  “Would you tell me, then, why a man who got rich off a creation such as this carnival would try to destroy the original notes for it?”

  Mr. Warden pumped his arms as if he could snatch the journal from where the wheel held him. His body rocked from side to side. The unsteadiness widened his eyes, and he reached for the support structure above him, but his fingers could not grasp it.

  “Because you stole it,” Brady roared. “You stole this from me. Now you remember me, don’t you?”

  “You’re drunk,” Mr. Warden countered. “Get me down from here.”

  The first camera leaned out from the crowd and clicked. Katya could see several cameras emerging in the front row of onlookers. The whites of Mr. Warden’s eyes grew even larger.

  “Tell us, Warden,” Brady beckoned, waving the journal over his head. “Tell us how you broke into my room at that cheap little boarding house and stole this from me. It’s a journal, yes, but it’s my ideas. It’s my carnival.”

  Mr. Warden cracked a smile. “Your carnival? Why don’t you tell us how you broke into my office and stole that from me?”

  Katya burst forward into the empty space between the crowd and the fence. “That’s a lie!” Her voice echoed off the metal beams, startling Katya for a momen
t. Its stretched, strained quality made her calm herself before she shouted again, taking care to strengthen her voice. “I found that journal in the garbage. Mr. Kelly knows everything about this carnival, more than Mr. Warden ever could, aside from the money.”

  Katya looked up at Mr. Warden, her fury making her puffy eye smart and her nose burn. Mr. Warden looked so small from the ground, like a miniature or a caricature of himself. She could hardly find him menacing or sympathetic now. “Say what you want, Mr. Warden. The handwriting in that journal is not yours, except a few places where you made changes. There isn’t a thing in this carnival that wasn’t already in that journal. It’s not even laid out the same, so if this is your journal, where’s the drawing for that?”

  Mr. Warden jerked his shoulders, his gloved hands tightening into white fists. His jaw clenched, tightening against forming his thoughts into words.

  “Go ahead,” Katya challenged him. “Have your so-called security beat me again. The press is watching. Your precious crowds are watching.” Katya swept her arm through the air to show them to him.

  “Miss,” someone called.

  Katya turned toward the unfamiliar voice, furious to see one of the photographers motioning to her. She resented Mr. Warden for making her get her picture taken with her face all battered and bruised. She faced the eager cameras nonetheless, holding her injured arm motionless against her side. Gritting her teeth, Katya tilted her chin up for the lights to catch her swelling eye and the blood she was sure still stained her upper lip. The photographers fought for the best angles and positions, jostling bystanders out of their way.

  Mr. Warden called down from his great height, confident and appealing. “You believe her word over mine?”

  Katya craned her neck to look over her shoulder at Mr. Warden. She could not believe he had thrown her away so easily. One denied moment, and he had handed her over to Mr. Weis and his henchmen. At the same time, she would have done the same to him. “Why shouldn’t they?” she shouted up at Mr. Warden. “I might be nobody, but I’m more honest than you are.”

  “Let me down, Katya,” Mr. Warden crooned, softening his approach. “I can still save your job.”