The Automaton's Wife (Society for Paranormals Book 2)

by Vered Ehsani

  “I wonder if there’ll be dancing,” I said. I shuddered to attempt it under the critical supervision of Mrs. Steward and the lethal footwear that threatened to spill me onto the ground.

  Mr. Timmons patted my hand that was resting on his forearm and said, “I think it unlikely, unless his Lordship has managed to import musicians. But at least there’s food.”

  It didn’t matter, for in that moment both food and dancing were swept from my mind as my gaze alighted on a radiant being who amazingly was observing me and very intently at that.

  The being was in the form of an elegantly attired young man with eyes as deep and warm as a pot of dark tea. I curtsied to Mr. Elkhart even as my heart performed its own dance. The more pragmatic and still functioning section of my brain reminded me that given the small number of people at the function, everyone would end up making eye contact with everyone else at some point in the evening. This was a mere coincidence, nothing more.

  That argument would have reined in my excitement had not the gentleman in question walked toward me with a purposeful gait.

  I curtsied. “Mr. Elkhart, a pleasure to see you again.”

  “Miss Knight,” Mr. Elkhart said in a voice that at that moment struck me as melodic as a rosebush full of nightingales. “I beg your pardon and indulgence. We didn’t have much of an opportunity to acquaint ourselves with each other’s story the last time we met. I hope to remedy that situation this very evening.”

  With these sentiments expressed, he clasped my proffered hand in his and bowed over it, his eyes never leaving my face.

  Not one to be easily impressed by civil manners and elegant speech (for both those are easily forged) nor by good posture and a pretty face (for both of those will pass with age), I nonetheless found my breathing rather fluttery and I had to constrain the urge to reach out and stroke back the lock of black hair that had fallen across his forehead.

  “It’s Mrs. Knight,” someone growled behind me: the forgotten Mr. Timmons.

  “I’m widowed,” I hastily added as I restrained myself from kicking Mr. Timmons in the shin.

  Mr. Elkhart glanced between Mr. Timmons and myself, his eyes wide and wondering.

  “It’s rather a lovely gathering, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Elkhart?” I asked, hoping to attract those deep eyes back to me. I smiled when my efforts bore fruit and I had his attention again.

  The investigator in me – the one meticulously trained under the gentle, dog-scented tutelage of Prof. Runal – questioned Mr. Elkhart’s interest in someone of my station and age. That same investigator wished to press for more details about his origins, for his name didn’t quite match the warm tone of his skin.

  The woman in me dismissed the investigator for the night.

  “Yes it is, Mrs. Knight,” he said with a charming smile. “Mrs. Knight, would you do me the great service of accompanying me to the refreshment tables? They’re located on the balcony, where there’s a delightful view I’m sure you’ll enjoy.”

  I nodded, trying to limit my smile, lest it seem indecently enthusiastic. I didn’t need to turn toward Mr. Timmons to know he was scowling at this interaction. That didn’t matter, any more than the astonishment of Mrs. Steward or the anticipated jealousy of Lilly once she found out. If anything, these reactions only added to the delight of the moment.

  “Aren’t you interested in seeking out Miss Steward’s company?” I inquired.

  Mr. Elkhart turned slightly to me, an eyebrow arching up his smooth forehead, and he shrugged his elegant shoulders. “You needn’t concern yourself with her.”

  I smiled at that. Lilly had overestimated both his interest and her appeal. How delicious.

  We chatted idly as Mr. Elkhart escorted me through the guests mingling on the long, stone balcony, the view and refreshments quite forgotten. His story intrigued me: born on the East African coast, he’d travelled the world with his father until school age, at which point he went to live with the Hardinge family.

  “Fascinating,” I murmured.

  “Indeed,” he said, “and all turned out well, thanks to that dear family.”

  “Marvellous,” I said, although I might have been referring to his soulful eyes as much as the happy outcome of his tale.

  So caught up was I that I was oblivious as we meandered from the balcony down a short flight of stone steps into an untamed garden that was trying desperately to appear English and struggling to do so. Near the base of the steps was a fire pit over which a goat was being roasted, much to the delight of a number of partygoers clustered around the flames.

  Day’s light was all compressed against the horizon while night took its place above us. As the garden relented to a wilder landscape, I hesitated to continue. We were hardly in a compromising situation, given our proximity to a cluster of guests who were fervently discussing the progress of the railway construction, yet I was acutely aware that a bit of shrubbery blocked Mr. Elkhart from view. One more step on my part, and I would join him. As I pondered the dilemma, the noisy silence of the savannah seemed to overpower the human voices from the party, smothering them in the shrill calls of hidden wildlife.

  “Perhaps we should make our way back,” I said, prudence and propriety finally catching hold of me. My hand twitched for my walking stick that I’d been compelled to leave at home.

  Mr. Elkhart smiled. Was it a trick of starlight that made the expression less radiant, more sinister? Had his eye-teeth been as long before?

  I swallowed hard. “Come, Mr. Elkhart, I insist we return before I’m bitten by those horrid mosquitos.”

  The smile widened. The teeth were definitely longer. I backed away, squinting. A strange energy surrounded him. There was something vamp-like in his energy, but he wasn’t a vampire, nor was he entirely human.

  What was he?

  “What do you see, Mrs. Knight?” he asked, his voice lower, thicker, struggling to stay human.

  “A lovely sunset, don’t you agree?” I said and turned to leave.

  Behind me, something snapped repeatedly. I knew the sound well enough: bones snapping as a shape shifter – as Mr. Elkhart – altered form.

  In response to the adrenalin that surged through me, the shimmering outline of a wolf formed by my side.

  “Away,” I hissed automatically at my wolf energy, and it vanished.

  Perhaps banishing the killer wolf wasn’t the best idea, I belatedly thought as a hand grabbed my arm, a hand that was no longer human. Clawed and scaly, it twisted me about effortlessly and pulled me behind the bush.

  “Mr. Elkhart, this,” I squeaked out, my voice a quivering mess. “This is… really quite… inappropriate.”

  Or rather, I remember trying to say that. My attention was fixed on the man-sized, bat beast snarling at me, its wings unfolding behind it, a perfect specimen of a Popobawa.

  “Oh… my…” And I did what any sensible lady without her walking stick or bow and arrows would do: I kicked the beast in the sensitive region and ran.

  Truth told, ‘ran’ might not adequately describe my action. With the jangly, high-heeled party shoes Lilly had given me, it was rather hard to walk, never mind run. And the complicated straps and laces that bound the shoes to my feet couldn’t be easily disentangled even while sitting down; attempting to do so while in the midst of an escape attempt was futile. But I did manage to dodge behind some shrubbery while the winged demon hissed and coughed; unfortunately my efforts removed me further from the party and any witnesses to my predicament.

  Sadly, his pain threshold was tolerably high and he flung himself after me with great enthusiasm, if rage can ever be enthusiastic. I scurried away, preparing to shout for help, when I fell to the ground, all the breath literally squashed out of me. That does tend to happen when one has a man-sized bat sitting on one’s back.

  Only when the beast rose up in flight could I breathe again; unfortunately, I too was rising off the ground. The next sound was my scream.

  Paying no heed to my comfort, Mr. Elkhart flapped
his mighty wings and, with me swooped up in his oversized clawed feet, he ascended with such rapidity that my scream was stuffed back down my throat from the force of the air.

  I heard someone shout below me. It sounded much like an angry Mr. Timmons but I didn’t dare peer around to verify this. My view was thus fixed on the stars and Mr. Elkhart’s snout full of white daggers.

  We didn’t fly for long before the wings – each longer than I am tall – tilted and we began to descend over a dense forest. The trees thinned out against a steep hill strewn with mossy boulders wrapped in thick vines. We swept into the gaping mouth of a cave, lit with two storm lanterns, where I was deposited with little care onto the rough floor.

  I sat in a windblown heap, too stunned to move. I contemplated what had shocked me more: Mr. Elkhart’s transformation or my embarrassing screaming. At least I hadn’t fainted, as tempting as it had been, and I consoled myself with this.

  The sounds of bones snapping and cracking reminded me of my more pressing predicament. I twisted about, not trusting my legs enough to stand, especially with Lilly’s ridiculous party shoes still strapped to my feet. I cursed my defenceless position, as I felt near naked without my walking stick.

  At least I should have stuffed my cinnamon pouch down the front of my dress, I berated myself, although I doubted even that marvellous spice would’ve had much affect on the Popobawa.

  I resolved there and then never to be without some weapon, even if I was going to a New Year’s ball that required fancy dress wear. This resolution assumed I survived the night, of course.

  But first things first. “You’re not naked,” I observed.

  Mr. Elkhart brushed at his coat, perhaps sweeping off a few stray bat hairs. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mrs. Knight, but my mother taught me enough magic for me to remain respectable at all times.”

  “Respectable?” I snorted at that. “Hardly. You’ve put me in a most indelicate and highly compromised position, for what will people say when they realise we’re both missing? Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” If I couldn’t fight, I decided I could at least display some bravado.

  “I was hoping to ask you that very question,” he said, his voice gentle and warm, but there was a steeliness to his eyes that the flickering light of the lanterns didn’t soften.

  “What are you on about?” I asked.

  “Please, let’s not play these games,” he said with a sigh, as if he was the one inconvenienced by the situation. “I have no wish to resort to nastiness. Did Prof. Runal send you here, Mrs. Knight? And for what purpose?”

  I narrowed my eyes. I could see his energy field clearly in the dimly lit cave. It glowed with an animal’s essence that I could now recognise as bat-like, but without my glasses I couldn’t read any deeper.

  “How do you know…?” I began.

  “I’m well acquainted with Prof. Runal and the Society for Paranormals & Curious Animals,” Mr. Elkhart said while slowly approaching me, but there was no threat in his movements. He sat on a rocky outcrop nearby. “My father was particularly concerned for our safety, and with good reason, considering Mandate #4.”

  My eyes widened. “You know what it is?”

  He smiled pleasantly but there was a weariness in his eyes. He reminded me a bit of Gideon. Perhaps that’s why I’d been caught so easily. “I gather you don’t. They keep that one well hidden from all but a few select members. My father is one such being, and he paid for that knowledge, along with my mother.”

  Despite my precarious situation, I was intrigued. “So what is it?”

  Mr. Elkhart shook his head. “Let us focus on the matter at hand.”

  I waved a hand as a moth fluttered into my face, and decided there was nothing to be gained by refusing to answer. “I’m here because the Stewards were forced to come due to economic considerations created by a series of poorly selected investments gone awry. Prof. Runal had nothing to do with it.”

  “Or so you think,” Mr. Elkhart said softly.

  “So I know,” I retorted, wondering if the bat man was delusional. Handsome, but delusional. A delusional kidnapper didn’t bode well for me, regardless of his charm and gentile looks. After all, how could Prof. Runal have possibly arranged the investment failures and, more importantly, why?

  No, it was mere delusion.

  Mr. Elkhart seemed as unconcerned by my doubts as by his decision to fly away with me. “Whatever the case, you’re here and I’m sure Prof. Runal has reason for it, or has found a use for you that fits in with their plans.”

  “Of course he’s created opportunity from disaster,” I said, determined to defend my mentor’s good name. “There’s no crime in that.”

  “Which brings us to the precise point,” Mr. Elkhart said, leaning his elbows on his knees as he studied me. “What work has he asked you to carry out, so far from Society headquarters?”

  I shrugged. “I’m to report on my observations of the community here. Our knowledge of African paranormals is scanty at best and he hopes I might amend that.”

  He stared intently at me, his countenance an odd composition of gentle nobility and keen alertness. After a moment of study, his posture relaxed somewhat. “Whatever his game, you do seem innocent of malicious intent.”

  “So I hope that means I’m free to go,” I said, smiling although it felt a bit stretched across my face. “Or are you planning on feeding me to the local fauna?”

  Mr. Elkhart tipped his head to the side, a bemused expression brightening his face. “It had crossed my mind.”

  “Charming,” I said. “What is it about the men here?”

  He chuckled. “You have that effect on us.”

  “So it seems,” I said, my smile more sincere. “Kam thought it a clever idea to serve me up to his lion nieces as dinner.”

  “He would,” Mr. Elkhart said with a knowing glint in his eyes. “He’s very protective of his family.”

  “Yes, that he is,” I agreed, wondering how the two men could know each other. “Although I’m eternally grateful he didn’t feed me to them. Talking about family, you aren’t really this tanned naturally, are you?”

  Mr. Elkhart started at that and then chuckled. “My mother was from the Swahili community at the Coast. That’s where my parents met.”

  He paused, a sorrowful expression briefly alighting on his face. “Of course such a union would’ve been inconceivable in England, so the Hardinge family and I simply allow people to assume whatever they need to in order to accept me. I would frequently travel, and Lord Hardinge would quietly pay a gossip columnist to let it be known I had gone to Spain or some other sunny location.”

  “Well, people will believe the most incredible things in order to maintain their view of reality,” I said. “So shall we return to our party?”

  Mr. Elkhart rose, his gaze on me. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Knight, I truly am, but I shall be returning alone.”

  I jumped to my feet, my concern about wobbly knees and unstable foot attire forgotten. “But you said I was free to go.”

  “I didn’t actually say that,” he replied, “but you are free if you wish.” He waved to the dark forest crouched far below the edge of the cave.

  “Which means I’m trapped here,” I said, folding my arms across my chest from anger and a growing realisation of the cold night that awaited me.

  “For a few days,” he agreed, and he sighed as if he regretted the situation as much as I did. “I wouldn’t attempt to wander off if I were you. Even if you managed to climb down without breaking your neck, there are creatures in there as scary as I am, perhaps even more so.”

  He glanced away, his shoulders slumped. “I do apologise, but I don’t have many options open to me.” He straightened up and gestured to a corner of the cave. “I’ve left ample provisions for you over there, to ensure a somewhat comfortable stay.”

  “And then?” I didn’t bother imploring him not to abandon me, for I knew I would be humiliating myself without hope of a positive outcome.
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  “And then a ship departs for England.” He walked to the cave opening and stood on the edge of the platform, staring down. “I will ensure you are on it.”

  “But why?” I was pleased there was no undertone of begging, pleading or panic in my voice.

  “My guardian brought us back here to escape the reach of the Society, a reach that separated my parents and forced my father into permanent exile.” He glanced back at me, his expression resolute. “We’ll not tolerate their presence over here, not after all the sacrifices that have been made. As innocent as you are of the Society’s scheming, you still represent a potential risk to us. Kam didn’t have the heart to rid us of that risk, but I do.”

  With that, he flung himself off the edge. A breath later, a large bat soared up over the trees and was gone, leaving me very much alone in my rocky prison.

  Chapter 14

  As there was no point stumbling around or off the cave’s edge (which I was sure to do, despite my unnaturally sharp night vision), I inspected Mr. Elkhart’s hospitality: food packages, a vat of water and a sleeping roll with blankets. I certainly was in no danger of overly suffering, apart from the lack of bathing facilities.

  I didn’t see the point in staying up through the night, fuming at my captor or fearing what might enter the cave. So I made myself as comfortable as is possible in a cold, damp, mountainside hole and allowed sleep to provide me some relief from reality.

  It’s been my experience that life usually looks much better under the light of day than in the bleakness of night. Sadly, that wasn’t the case for me, for one glance outside the cave the next morning revealed how perfect a prison it was.

  There were two ways out (assuming one couldn’t sprout wings, which alas I couldn’t): down the steep, rocky side of the hill, and this would be akin to climbing down a cliff face; or along a diagonal ridge that hugged the steep slope in either direction, connecting the hilltop with the forest floor. The ridge could be considered a narrow path, if one was a mountain goat.

  “A pox on that bat man,” I said as I pondered my next move.