Demon in the Machine

by Lise MacTague

  One…two…and thrust. Isabella opened the throttle to its widest setting and rocketed off the ground in a cloud of vapor. The wind whistled past her exposed cheeks and howled through the ear holes in her helmet. She watched as the far-off roofline flew closer. Low buildings passed by far below her feet, then the street with its lonely streetlights that did much less to dispel the night than did the lenses in her goggles. She was going to make it. Unreasoning fear had apparently made her very precise in the timing of the jump. Taking off from a higher roof for the return trip had made all the difference.

  The roof tiles loomed closer and Isabella tried to engage her thrusters to take a little something off the landing. She throttled open the controls and… nothing. Either the rig needed time to recharge or she’d used the last of the tank. There was no time to check; all she could do was tuck into a ball and hope the landing wasn’t too hard.

  Isabella hit the roof and bounced once, the air whooshing out of her lungs. She rolled forward and slapped the palms of her hand onto the tiles to try to bleed off some momentum. Something hit the roof next to her. A shadow figure somersaulted twice and landed in a heap, fetching up against the base of a chimney. Another impact followed the first one, and Isabella was suddenly surrounded by falling shadows. She skidded to an awkward stop, one leg striking the edge of a chimney pot and sending it clattering to the edge of the roof and over. Pain shot up her leg from the shin, but Isabella barely noticed it. There was no time for niceties such as injuries. There was only time for escape.

  She shot to her feet and scrambled across the peak of the roof, then skidded down a short incline to the neighboring roofline.

  An object hit her back, and Isabella staggered to one side. Sharp points of pain bloomed across her shoulders.

  “Gotcha,” a raspy voice crowed in her ear. A small hand wrapped itself around the front of her neck. “Give it back!”

  One of the shadows was attached to her like a limpet. She grabbed the indistinct arm, and it dropped into focus. A little brick red figure clung to her. It bared sharp teeth at her in a closed-mouth hiss. A detached part of Isabella’s mind noted its double row of teeth and the pointed ears. Scars roped their way around the thing’s limbs. It flexed its fingers and black claws sprouted from the tips.

  “Give it!” the thing screamed in her ear. “Give it give it give it.”

  “To Hell with you,” Isabella shouted back. She yanked it off her, paying no heed when the points of pain became stripes of agony. She slammed it into the ground with strength she didn’t know she had. Its head burst like a ripe melon when it hit the slate tiles. It lay there twitching, a widening pool of black blood and stench pouring from it. Wrenching her mind away from the nausea that flooded her belly, she pushed on and over the edge onto the roof.

  Throttle at the ready, she jumped out over the street, hoping her rig had recharged enough to get her the short way to the line of roofs across the narrow side street. If it hadn’t, this was going to get even more painful. The rig caught and pushed her over the gap. She sobbed with relief. She was almost to where she’d told Briar to meet her.

  Isabella’s landing was much more controlled this time. She kept her feet beneath her but gasped in pain when her injured leg took the brunt of the force. She limped forward between two chimneys and used them to propel herself onward, unable to put all her weight on the offending leg. The two-foot wall between the end of this roof and the next shouldn’t have been much of an obstacle, but Isabella had to slow to navigate it.

  Flapping wings were all the warning she had, and she pulled herself over the wall and rolled. A little red thing flew past her in the darkness, shrieking a shrill curse into the night. It banked and sped back toward her, but Isabella was faster. She ran toward it as fast as she could, her shin flaring pain up into her hip with each step. It screamed at her as it closed, eyes glowing bright with delight. Isabella threw herself to one side, turning with the thing as it flew past her. She was able to grab one scrawny leg and, using her momentum to pull them both around, launched it into the side of a chimney not five feet away from them.

  This one’s head didn’t pop like the last one, but it slid down the chimney, its body blending in with the bricks, except for the trail of dark ichor it left behind.

  Panting, both from exertion and terror, Isabella pushed herself on. A few more feet to the edge of the roof, that was it. She ran, stumbling, pulling herself forward with her arms to keep from slowing enough that the winged horrors could catch her. She skidded to a stop at the edge of the roof and looked down.

  The street below was empty.

  What? No! Briar has to be there. Isabella scanned first one way up the street, then the other. There, less than half a block away was a carriage at the side of the road, sitting next to the street’s only lamp. Bless her!

  She ran the edge of the roofs, pain shoved momentarily to one side by sublime relief. Flapping wings reached her ears once again, but Isabella didn’t spare a look to see where the disgusting little things were. She hunched her head down, making it as small a target as possible. When she judged herself close enough, she jumped up on the roofline and dropped into empty space beneath her, her feet aimed right at the top of the carriage, and engaged the thrusters halfway down. They whooshed to life, then coughed and cut out. The canister was finally empty. Isabella dropped the last ten feet and careened into the carriage.

  * * *

  A thunderous crash shook the whole horseless. Briar grabbed the seat to keep from falling over. “What is going—?”

  “Get moving!” Isabella’s voice was like a whip. Briar had already thrown the lever that put the carriage in gear before she realized it.

  High-pitched squeals and screeches filled the air. Briar was all too familiar with the sounds. Her blood ran cold with remembered pinches and scratches as leering faces tormented her younger self.

  The carriage was moving, slowly at first, then faster as she pressed the accelerator. Small imp bodies landed on the carriage and on top of Isabella, tearing at her and trying to pull her free. If enough of them got their hooks in her, they’d be able to cart her away. Briar wasn’t a little girl any more; she would not allow that to happen.

  Briar steered the carriage back and forth, shedding imp bodies even as more rained down out of the sky. The carriage picked up still more speed as she pushed the accelerator all the way down to the floor. Johnson had cautioned her against going too fast—he’d said the vehicle was top-heavy—but she saw no other choice, not until they opened up some space between the carriage and the flock of imps.

  They were almost at the next street. Briar pulled sharply at the wheel, sending them into a skid around the corner. The carriage groaned in protest, yawing over to roll on two wheels for an interminable moment before the suddenly airborne wheels crashed back to the street. Wood splintered where imps sank their claws into the wooden roof and sides to keep from being thrown free. Only a few were able to keep their grip. The rest tumbled from the vehicle to lie twitching on the stone cobbles. Some staggered to their feet, but most stayed down.

  Briar knew that their only advantage right now was that the imps were much weaker here than in the infernal realm. They’d still be able to overwhelm Briar or Isabella if they mobbed together, but the longer they could stay out of their clutches, the weaker the little demons would become. The carriage was lighter now, and it leapt forward and out from under the cloud of imps, exactly as Briar had hoped.

  “Can you drive?” she shouted over her shoulder at Isabella.

  “Give me one more…” Isabella grunted with effort and another imp shot screeching from the top of the carriage. “Second.” Another shriek was silenced by a loud thud. “Or two.” She crawled forward until she was right behind Briar. “I’m ready.”

  Briar scooted to one side of the narrow seat so Isabella could join her. The seat hadn’t been built to be shared. She pulled her skirts as far over as she could to make room for Isabella, while still steering as best she
was able. Her foot slipped off the accelerator and the carriage slowed immediately. A communal squeal of triumph went up from the imps flocking after them. Isabella levered herself around and slid into the scant room Briar had made for her. She grabbed the wheel and the carriage shuddered to the left, heading toward a darkened storefront before Isabella yanked it to the other side and pointed them back down the street. At least they weren’t on a major thoroughfare. There were no other carriages to bedevil them, and all any late-night pedestrians would see was an erratically driven carriage. It was unlikely they’d be able to perceive the imps, not unless they had demon blood of their own. They had to keep away from the pavement, though, or they’d chance striking someone out about their business, which would slow them down significantly. These areas of London never truly slept, not like those areas whose inhabitants were better off. Isabella would keep the carriage from running anyone over, Briar had to trust as much.

  Her hands no longer occupied, Briar pressed the accelerator back down as far as she could. The carriage surged forward as if stung by a bee. The imps shrieked in disappointment.

  “I’ve got it,” Isabella said. She nudged Briar’s foot off the pedal, freeing her up completely. “Now what?”

  “Drive us somewhere safe! I’ll take care of the imps.” She turned around and levered open the window between the driver’s seat and the cab. It was small, running along the base of the driver’s narrow bench. It had been designed so the passengers could direct the driver. No one had made it to allow passage back into the cab, but she judged that she would fit, if barely.

  “All right.” Isabella’s voice was steady, though Briar could see red stains on the undyed canvas of her jacket. There would be time enough to deal with wounds later. Right now Briar had to ensure they survived long enough to do so. The window opened and she squeezed her head into the cab, followed by her shoulders and arms. She pushed on either side of the window and muscled her ribs through the opening, though it was a near thing. She strained to get her hips past the window’s threshold, but she was stuck, her legs kicking most indecorously through the window. Damn these skirts! The volume of material that made up her bustle would not pass through the small window. She struggled mightily to pass through, but didn’t move so much as an inch.

  Her dilemma was rudely solved when Isabella put her hand upon Briar’s posterior and shoved her through the opening. Briar squeaked in outrage at the treatment of her bottom and again when she tumbled into the cab in a flurry of skirts and limbs.

  There was no time to dwell upon the indignity. The clatter of carriage wheels over the uneven cobbles of London streets couldn’t completely mask the thumps of imp bodies hitting the carriage, nor the scratching as they sank their claws into the top and sides and pulled themselves toward the unprotected driver at the front.

  Briar ripped off one glove with her teeth, then sank her teeth into the tips of her ring and middle fingers. Blood welled up immediately, driven by the frenzied beating of her heart. She drew a rough circle on the ceiling of the carriage and started with the key-rune. The circle and character burst into crimson flame, as did each character she drew in rapid succession afterward. The fear and anger coursing through her lent extra potency to the runes. The inside of the cab was lit up by them.

  When she finished, the cab’s exterior lit up as well. A sphere of flame bloomed out from the drawing on the ceiling, pushing away the imps clinging to the carriage and flinging them into the dark. The cloud above them parted, its occupants shrieking in rage where the sphere burned them. A handful of imps burst into flames and plummeted to the ground like struggling meteorites.

  The most pressing issue handled, Briar turned her attention to the floor. She knelt in the center of it and prepared a different circle. When she completed this one, they would be invisible to the demonic forces arrayed against them. These imps were too small and weak to be anything more than a front line response to Isabella’s intrusion. Something else would come after them, something strong enough to survive the ravages of the human realm. That couldn’t be allowed to happen.

  She completed the inscription, but not without needing to reopen the small wounds on her fingertips. She worried at them again with her teeth, then activated the key-rune.

  The gabble of imp voices above them grew confused, then less distinct. She risked sticking her head out the window and was relieved to see them dispersing. To them, the carriage and its occupants had simply disappeared between one breath and the next. They searched in a desultory manner before streaming back toward the factory, first one by one, then the remaining clump.

  Briar leaned back against the seat and willed her racing heart to slow down. It would be a while before the recalcitrant organ would listen to her.

  “Are we in the clear?” Isabella’s voice floated through the open window.

  “For the moment.”

  “What were those things? I’ve never seen their like before.”

  “Those were imps, the vermin of the infernal plane.”

  Isabella’s head briefly appeared in the driver’s window. Her eyes were wide with shock before she straightened up to watch the road. “Demons? I was attacked by demons?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Briar tried to put some apology into her tone, but she was unused to the sentiment. She should have known there was more going on in the factory when the imp-ridden man had appeared at their door. This was a bigger operation than she’d anticipated. When did she go to the earl or worse yet her mother? Best to wait until she had all the relevant information. “Were you able to get it?”

  “Of course I was.” Briar could hear Isabella’s relief in her smile. “They didn’t come after me because they disapproved of my outfit.”

  “Good.” At least something had gone right that night. She relaxed against the leather seat. The grimoire was the answer to everything.

  Chapter Sixteen

  They were back on familiar ground, but that didn’t stop Isabella from jumping at every noise. The only people out at this hour were delivery people. She looked steadfastly forward as they thundered over the cobbled streets. They must present quite the picture. If she stopped to acknowledge any of the onlookers, it would be only a matter of time before one of them sent for a constable. At least there shouldn’t be any stories of Spring-Heeled Jack stealing a horseless and sending it careening through the streets. Once those things had cleared out, she’d removed her helmet and done her best to tuck her long hair into the collar of her coat. The blanket Briar had brought for warmth disguised her jump suit well enough once she was wrapped up in it.

  It had been some time since the imps accosted them. The top of the carriage looked like it had been through a storm of knives; the sides hadn’t fared much better. She’d heard little from Briar since Isabella had shoved her through the window. That push was likely going to come back to haunt her. Isabella couldn’t imagine Briar would put up with such handling.

  By the time her home came into view down the long street, Isabella was ready to sob with relief. The brick townhouse was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Tension eased minutely from her shoulders. She was able to lower them from their hunched position up around her ears, though they still ached. She pulled around back and into the carriage house. Once the carriage was no longer in gear, she leaned back to speak through the window.

  “Hold fast a little longer. I’m going to move us into the workshop.” She didn’t wait for Briar’s response but jumped down from the driver’s seat.

  Her right leg gave out and she tumbled to the hard floor. With all the excitement, she had completely forgotten about her injuries. When she rediscovered the injury to her leg, the cuts and punctures along her back and sides decided to make themselves known as well. She gritted her teeth and pushed herself back to her feet, but a groan escaped her nonetheless.

  Briar said nothing in response to her distress, and Isabella wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Should she be relieved at not having to pretend the pain was
nothing or annoyed that Briar couldn’t be brought to show some concern about her condition? Her pain was certainly Briar’s fault, at least partially. She never should have agreed to go into the factory, not with the complete lack of preparation she’d had.

  Well, if Briar wasn’t going to say anything, then neither was she. Isabella limped over to the wall and threw a large switch. Almost immediately, machinery spun to life under the floor. Cogs meshed together to bring the carriage down to the lower level. Isabella had to move quickly to get back to the carriage before the jump down was more than she could make on her bad leg. She undid the jump rig that suddenly weighed two hundred pounds and threatened to pull her over. She placed it carefully on the platform. Her gloves, helmet, and goggles joined it. Isabella leaned against the carriage door and watched as they made their slow way down to the workshop.

  All was quiet and dark down there, for which Isabella was just as glad. Explaining to her father what they’d been up to wasn’t something she wanted to contemplate. Mostly, she wanted to be out of the suit and into some clothes that had no extra perforations and that didn’t smell of blood.

  They came to a stop, but not before Isabella squeezed shut her eyes against her rising dizziness. After too much deliberation, she thought it best to sit on the ground before she toppled over.

  “Is it safe to come out?” Briar asked.

  Isabella nodded, then licked her lips before replying. “Yes.” She shifted to one side.

  The door opened and closed beside her, then Briar’s cool hand rested on her cheek.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “Yes.” Thank you for noticing finally.

  “Where’s the grimoire?”

  That’s what you’re worried about? Isabella said nothing, but Briar pulled back her hand as if she’d been scalded.