Quicksilver Soul

by Christine d'Abo

  He wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.

  Nicola braced her foot against the side of the horse and pulled back. “Let me go!”

  The beast lifted its head and steam exploded from its nostrils. With a thunderous step forward, the gears moved enough to free Nicola. “Yes!”

  Her yell and the horse’s movement was enough of a distraction to draw the attention of the attackers. They threw Emmet to the ground where he stayed unmoving.

  Shit. “Hello, boys. Wonderful city you have here.”

  The uninjured man pointed a grubby finger toward her. “Our boss wants te see you.”

  “Does he?” She nodded and took a step back. “Well I’m afraid my schedule is completely full at the moment. Your boss will need to make an appointment. Say, a week from Tuesday?”

  “Grab the bitch and let’s go.”

  Nicola’s back hit the side of the horse, blocking her escape. It snorted, sending another burst of steam before it turned to face her attackers. Both men stopped dead, their eyes locked onto the automaton. Sensing an opportunity, Nicola reached over and patted the horse on the neck. “As I mentioned, I’m really quite busy. Now, I’m going to get my friend and we will be on our way.”

  Nicola was nearly as surprised as the men when the horse stomped its hoof upon the cobblestones. The vibrations seeped into the souls of her feet and up her legs as the creature began to move toward the men. With a noise that sounded as though hell itself was upon them, the automaton charged their attackers. Emmet somehow rolled away out of the path of the retreating men and stumbled to his feet. She raced toward him and grabbed his hand, not bothering to check his injuries. There’d be time for that when they were safe. “I believe you said run.” Without further conversation, they raced into the small alley that jutted off from the far side of their current position. She moved with him as though they’d been doing so for years, in perfect unison that might have appeared choreographed to an onlooker. The space was narrow, as though the buildings had emerged out of the ground too close together and formed a symbiotic relationship. Emmet’s wide shoulders scraped as they struggled through, slowing their advancement.

  Nicola kept a constant watch behind them, expecting a pursuer to emerge from where they’d come to give chase.

  They emerged from the tight walkway, tumbling out into the blessedly wide alley. The confined space had no ill effect on her, but a quick glance at the pallor of Emmet’s face revealed he’d reached a breaking point. He stumbled a few steps before leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees. “Sorry. Need to catch my breath.”

  One moment he was leaning over catching his breath, and the next he’d collapsed to the ground. “Emmet!”

  Abandoning her gun on the ground beside him, she quickly went to work pulling open his cravat and the buttons around his throat. Dammit, he didn’t look that undone by his injuries, certainly shaken but nowhere near close to losing consciousness. It was then that her fingers brushed against something hard and long protruding from the side of his neck. She tugged it free with ease and brought it to eye level for inspection.

  A dart.

  Thomas.

  There was chuckling, and another brute materialized, as big and ugly as the previous three.

  “Well, good afternoon.” Tightening her hold on Emmet’s shoulder, she hoped to rouse him from his drugged stupor with a few shakes. She didn’t want to abandon him in the middle of the alley, but if one of them didn’t escape then no one would have a clue where they might be or who was responsible. When Emmet didn’t move, Nicola shifted slowly, preparing to bolt. “It seems you’ve rendered my companion unconscious. That’s extremely uncharitable of you.”

  Either the man was dim and didn’t understand a word of what she’d said or he was doing his best to intimidate her. Instead of rising to her verbal challenge, his gaze shifted behind her. Two of her pursuers emerged from the alley behind her, blocking all obvious signs of escape.

  “Think yer going somewhere, miss?” The man with the dart gun grinned at her.

  The tiny dart bit into her skin, sending a flash of pain through her body. She hadn’t seen the other man move, but she caught sight of a long tube in his hands before the darkness consumed her. Her last waking thought was of Emmet and how wonderfully warm he was beneath her body.

  Chapter Six

  Keegan sat on his cot, back pressed against the wall, and stared at the couple in the cell across from him. Mr. Edison hadn’t said a word about bringing others to work for him, though it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise. The project was large and would take far less time if Keegan wasn’t the only one with his hands dirty. Still, he couldn’t help but be annoyed.

  The man was an archivist, Keegan could tell from his clothing. What Mr. Edison wanted with a zombie was beyond him. They were horrible people, worse than the clockwerker guild, if half the stories he’d heard were to be believed. Then there’d been that Jack the Ripper a few months back. Even Glyn had been scared, not that he said as much, but Keegan could tell. Word was that the killer had been one of them zombies gone mad. He wasn’t sure that was the truth, but in his experience the rumors that the Underlings unearthed were more often true than not.

  It was the woman that had Keegan more than a little curious. He’d caught sight of something on her jacket before the men had thrown her on the floor, something he thought looked like the stag’s head that rest above all the iron walks. If it was, that meant she was with the Company. Keegan had never actually met anyone from there, though like every citizen of New London, he reaped the benefits of their technology. He didn’t have an opportunity to look at the symbol again before they stripped her of the greatcoat.

  Why would Mr. Edison want someone from the Company? It didn’t make sense if he was trying to keep his invention a secret.

  “Keegan, my boy. Come out please.”

  His stomach growled and his fingers shook as he slowly pushed his way off the cot. Sleep had been getting harder and harder to come by, though he still took the rest breaks Mr. Edison insisted upon. There was no point in arguing with his employer, something Keegan had learned early on. In the past two weeks of his new life, he discovered that being in proper employment with a proper boss wasn’t that much different than being an Underling, forced to do what Glyn wanted, when he wanted it. At least the food was better.

  The light was bright as he shuffled out into the hallway, forcing him to shade his eyes. “Yes, Mr. Edison?”

  His boss stood in the entrance of the work area. With a crook of his finger, he beckoned him in. “There’s something I want to show you.”

  Keegan’s heartbeat picked up. Oh, he loved it when Mr. Edison had things to show him. They were normally interesting gadgets, things that he’d get to tinker with until Mr. Edison was pleased with the progress and spirited them away. Still, those few hours when he’d be permitted to caress the metal gears, adjust the springs and cogs with a mental push, were some of the best time he’d ever spent.

  Creeping forward, Keegan followed where Mr. Edison had disappeared. What he wasn’t expecting to see as he entered the room was that the floor had been covered with various bits and bobs, metal casings, springs and cogs. Some of the items he recognized from previous sessions, things he’d already put his mark upon. Others were new, still rusty and damaged, with their potential still hidden beneath the surface.

  “Wow.” His whisper filled the quiet of the workroom. “What’s all this, Mr. Edison?”

  “This, my boy, is going to be your project. The most important of tasks that I require you to undertake. I had intended to do the work myself, but you’ve more than proven your abilities.” There was something odd in his voice, something Keegan couldn’t put a name to. “For the next couple weeks, building this machine will be your one and only priority.”

  If this had been Glyn telling Keegan what to do, restricting his movements to the Underlings’ home, he would have rebelled. Sure, he didn’t mind following orders, but he hat
ed being held back, trapped in one place with nowhere to go. Funny, he hadn’t felt that way even once since he’d been brought to the warehouse.

  Instead of protesting, Keegan stepped past Mr. Edison, and began to inspect the objects. “What do ye want me to make, sir? I can see lots of things I could do with this stuff.”

  Normally his boss would make a smart comment, something that would make Keegan smile or think. When nothing came, Keegan tore his attention from the casing and looked up at the older man. “Sir?”

  It was odd, but Keegan hadn’t noticed how old Mr. Edison was. Not ancient like some of them highbrow gents walking around with their white hair and beards, looking near dead in their black suits, but older than Keegan had first assumed. More than that, he was sad.

  That was an odd thing.

  “This is a special project.” Mr. Edison narrowed his gaze and cleared his throat. “A special project for a special boy. I need you to make me an automaton.”

  “Oh.” Yes, he could see that now. There were enough bits and pieces here to build something beautiful, sleek, and powerful. “You want me to make a person?”

  “I do. A woman, to be more precise.”

  Keegan had heard rumblings about men who’d go to the darker parts of New London seeking out the comforts of local whores. With all that nasty Ripper business, them women had been complaining about lack of business. He didn’t figure Mr. Edison for the type of man who’d want to be with a whore, but being with an automaton was… strange.

  “You want a metal girl?” Keegan picked up a spindle, mentally calculating how long it would take to rewind the metal spring. “I can find ya a nice girl if that’s what yer lookin’ for, sir. Glyn has a bunch that he lets some of the older Underlings use when they have an itch they need scratched.”

  Keegan didn’t register Mr. Edison moving, until his hands were around his neck, squeezing tightly. His head swam as he struggled to draw breath. The words his boss spoke grew more difficult to understand the tighter he squeezed.

  “Don’t you dare talk about it that way. I’m not going to fuck it, nor some whore. I can have any woman I want in my bed. You are to build her and she’s going to be perfect. Do you understand me? Perfect!”

  “Yes… sir.” Keegan lost the ability to speak for a moment before he was sent crashing to the floor. His head began to pound even as he sucked in a lungful of air, and the tremors he’d been able to suppress racked his body.

  Mr. Edison stood over him, his hands balled at his side, his gaze unwavering. “I have no doubt you’ll do what I ask. You’re a smart boy and a hard worker.”

  Keegan didn’t normally get scared, even when situations looked bad for him. He’d always been able to find a way through using his wits. But as Keegan looked up into Mr. Edison’s eyes, his stomach turned and, for the first time since the first few hours when he’d been brought here, fear gripped at him. He’d seen that look before, on the faces of men out on the streets. Those weren’t the sorts Keegan associated with, the type as likely to stab you in the back as they were to pay you for your troubles. He needed to be careful.

  “I’ll make her perfect, sir.” Keegan slowly pulled his legs under him so he could crawl toward the nearest casing. “I can picture her in my head. This piece here, it’s wide and smooth. I can make this into her back.”

  He scrambled over to another piece. “Here. This one doesn’t look like much, but I can use this for her hand. Her fingers will be nice and long. Pretty.”

  When something glinted in the corner of his eye, Keegan recognized it and scrambled for it. “Now I know why this one spoke to me as it did. This is going to be her heart.”

  “Yes.” Mr. Edison’s hands relaxed. “I knew it the moment you showed it to me.”

  “It’s special, sir. I could see how everything connected the moment I laid eyes on it.” He grinned as the tension eased from the room. “I can do this for you, Mr. Edison. She’ll be perfect for you.”

  The darkness that had held Mr. Edison in its grip eased. He smiled and in a flash was back to the kindly man Keegan had grown to like. “Of course she will. You’re a bright lad, which is why I hired you in the first place. You’ve the best apprentice I’ve ever had.”

  An apprentice? He’d never been one of those before. “Thank you, sir, Mr. Edison.”

  “I forgot to ask if you’d rested. I want to make sure your mind is fresh before you begin working in earnest.”

  He hadn’t. But with his body and mind buzzing from the tension, there was little chance of him sleeping at this point. “I’m good. Maybe a bit hungry.”

  “I’ll have one of the lads put some food on a tray for you. They have their hands full at the moment, so it will take time.”

  “S’okay.” He widened his eyes just so, knowing the impact it would have. “I’d take some more sweets if ya had ’em, Mr. Edison, sir.”

  That elicited a chuckle from his employer. “I’m fresh out, but I’ll make sure to get more soon. In the meantime, see what you can manage for now.”

  Keegan knew he shouldn’t ask, that it was a part of Mr. Edison’s business that the less he knew of the better it would be for him in the long run. But if Keegan had one fault, it was his curiosity and his inability to put a cork on it. “Who are dem people in the cell? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “I do mind.” He turned his back to Keegan and continued toward the door. “For now, consider them nothing more than pests to be dealt with.”

  “Yes, Mr. Edison.”

  Glyn used to say the same thing about boys who caused the Underlings trouble. Their bodies would turn up days later, barely recognizable. If Mr. Edison was even half as vindictive as Glyn, Keegan would find himself alone again soon enough.

  * * *

  Emmet was conscious long before he was able to open his eyes. While he knew something was wrong, that something bad had certainly befallen him, his brain wouldn’t share the information. So rather than twist and turn, he lay still and tried to remember. It was then that he heard the voices, shouting in the distance chased by the clanging of metal. That wasn’t a typical sound from the Archives, not in the least. Which would make sense given he’d left there earlier, went on a trip with—

  “Miss Tesla?” His voice was rough, the words hurting as they were formed in his throat. Emmet licked his lips, trying to force some moisture back into his mouth. He’d been with her when something had happened. The memories were as hazy as a summer morning in New London.

  He should move, see what predicament he’d landed himself into and if he had any hope of getting out of it unscathed. With effort he opened his eyes and found himself facing a stone wall. So he was inside… someplace. His next attempt was to move his hands, which were surprisingly free from restraints. Whoever had placed him here either was not worried about his escape or had other contingencies in place for such an eventuality. Emmet would need to be cautious.

  Wiggling his fingers brought the circulation racing back, and before long, his arms were inflicted with the sensation of pins and needles. God, he hated that. It was the incentive he needed to struggle into a sitting position, giving him the vantage point he needed to see where he’d landed.

  A cell. The bars on the door appeared to be old and not a part of the original design of the place. The welded hinges were sloppily done, as though the craftsman was either in a hurry or under duress. If luck was on his side, that would mean there was a weakness to the hinge, something he’d be able to manipulate to his favor. Emmet filed that point away as something to explore at a later time. Not until he knew where he was and who’d put him here.

  A soft moan from the cot beside him jarred his sluggish brain. Emmet forced his body to move, crawling the short distance across the cold stone floor to the edge of the wooden frame.

  “Miss Tesla?” His fingers brushed warm linen and flesh as he reached up. Thank God she was still alive.

  Pulling himself up onto his knees, Emmet carefully rolled her onto her back. Her short hai
r slipped off her face to land on the thin blanket beneath her. This was the first time in their acquaintance that he’d seen her this still, this passive. Her lush lips had parted, revealing the barest hint of white teeth and pink tongue. Her long lashes lay at rest against her lids, hiding her bright blue eyes from his sight.

  This wasn’t right, seeing her this way. Nicola was the living embodiment of an energy ball. The air practically sparked around her as she moved, laughing and working with an enthusiasm he’d rarely seen in another. Even when she was in repose, she was rarely still. He’d watched her sitting at a desk, pouring over notes or reading, while her hands or feet were moving, tapping.

  Emmet hesitated for a moment before brushing a stray hair from her face. She was so warm; the scent of woman, oil, and lilac he was still surprised she smelled of was still fresh on her person. For the first time in years, since long before Piper had given her heart to Samuel and left the Archives, Emmet wanted. He wanted this woman, wanted to feel her lips beneath him, her naked flesh as he slid between her legs, hear her moans in his ear as he brought them both to that blissful state of pleasure. It would be so easy to lean down and kiss her until she woke, to take some of that energy and lust for life Nicola possessed for himself.

  He wanted, but knew he could never have. Not in any permanent way, which made it less than appealing.

  Pulling back, he gave her a gentle shake. “Miss Tesla?”

  She licked her lips and a soft moan escaped her. Whatever had been done to him clearly had struck her as well. She was no doubt going through the same painful stages of awakening as he had. Leaning in, he ignored his body’s reaction to being so close to her, and whispered into her ear.

  “Miss Tesla, we are safe for the moment. We appear to be in a cell, but unharmed. I know you can hear me, even if you can’t speak yet. Relax and let your body do what it must. I’ll see if I can determine where we are and if we can escape.”