The Clockwork Scarab s&h-1

by Colleen Gleason

  “Is this what their salons are normally like?” I found it difficult to pull my attention from the shirtless young men. No wonder the ladies wanted to be members. This was more exciting than going to the theater!

  “Smoking opium is dangerous and illegal, not to mention addicting,” she said in my ear, her breath hot against my false curls.

  “Not the opium! The young men. They are very . . . handsome.”

  “Don’t be a fool.” Miss Holmes elbowed me, and I grinned in the darkness before my moment of levity faded.

  I’d been joking, but it wasn’t a laughing matter. Two girls had been killed, one nearly murdered, and those crimes were somehow related to what was happening here and with the Ankh’s Inner Circle. I had a feeling smoking opium was the least of the dangers for these young women.

  We had to get beyond those double doors without being noticed.

  Just then, one of the serving men passed closer to us than any of them had yet. He was carrying a tray of goblets, but didn’t pause to offer any to the waiting ladies. Instead, he moved quickly through the room as if heading for a particular destination.

  His bare, sleek bicep caught my attention first. He wore a wide band, and I couldn’t tell if it was a leather cuff or a tattoo. But as he drew nearer, I happened to drag my attention up from his arm, over his shoulder to his bare throat. When I caught sight of his face, I couldn’t control a gasp.

  “What is it?” Miss Holmes hissed as Pix met my gaze.

  His eyes widened, and his stride faltered. How could he recognize me so easily? I was in disguise! But the hitch in his step indicated he hadn’t expected me any more than I’d expected him. Yet he gave no other indication as he passed by.

  “Ouch! Stop poking me,” I snapped at Miss Holmes. “I’ll tell you later.” And I slipped away.

  Taking another whiff from my vial, I followed Pix. He stopped to deliver a chalice to a young woman. She reached languidly to take the goblet, looking at him with a gaze that made me both ashamed for her wantonness and unaccountably hot at her expression. She beckoned to him to join her on the cushion as some of the other young men had done.

  If he dared sit down next to her . . . I kicked him in the heel as I walked past. At least he had some sense, for he straightened up to accompany me.

  At the first unoccupied cushion, I sank down in a pool of skirts and turned to glare up at him. Before I could ask what he was doing here, he crouched and grabbed my arm, demanding, “What in the devil are ye doing ’ere?” His expression was flat and angry, without the humor that usually lingered in his eyes.

  “I might ask you the same question.” My head was swimming, and I was getting warm. I needed another sniff from that vial. His uncovered torso was right there, exposed behind the open vest. He was sleek and taut and dark. . . . I fumbled for the smelling salts and brought the vial to my nose.

  “What are ye doin’ here, Evaline?” His fingers tightened, giving me a little shake. “I didn’ spec ye as a damned opium-eater, ye fool.”

  I wasn’t certain which startled me more: his use of my name or his accusation. “I’m not,” I said, yanking my arm away. “Lilly was a member of this society. They’re killing young women, and I’m trying to stop them. But you’re here, Pix,” I said. His eyes were sharp and clear, despite the heavy smoke. “And you—”

  “I got mates in ’ere,” he said. “M’ mate Jemmy’s been captured and forced to work for—”

  Suddenly, a shadow loomed over us. I looked up to see one of the guards standing there.

  “Problem here, miss?” he said, reaching for Pix as his eyes swept over me. “Who the devil are you?”

  Was he talking to me or to my companion? Before I had the chance to respond, Pix stood. I wasn’t surprised how easily he evaded the man’s grasp. He was slick that way.

  “No problem ’ere,” he said with an ingratiating smile, his hands spread innocently. Then before I could blink, his arm shifted close to his body, then jacked up in a strong, abrupt motion. The other man stiffened, his eyes widening, then slumped.

  Pix caught him and eased the guard to the floor next to me.

  “Good gad, is he dead?”

  “Doubt it,” Pix replied, slipping something long and slender into his pocket. “Ye need t’leave,” he said, taking my arm again.

  I bristled and pulled away. We were still crouched next to the hopefully-not-dead guard, and our faces were very close together. I could smell a hint of Pix’s minty scent mixed with wood smoke under the thick layer of opium.

  “What do you know about the Ankh?” I had to say something to keep from getting lost in his intense gaze.

  “I know nuthin’ but ’at there’s blokes been disappearin’. She’s been takin’ ’em, an’ I finally tracked ’em down—”

  We looked up at the same moment to see my partner standing over us, glowering in the drassy light. “Miss Stoker, what the devil are you doing?”

  I yanked her down next to us, then glanced at the other guard. He seemed oblivious to all our activity. Relieved, I turned to Miss Holmes. “I’m certain you have a plan.” I saw no need to hide my displeasure. Why couldn’t she just make things up as she went? It always worked for me.

  “Of course I have a plan. We have to get through those doors there.” She pointed to the double doors that led to the Inner Circle. “And we need a distraction. Who are you?” she added.

  “Ne’er min’ ’at,” Pix said, but without his usual charm. “I—”

  The double doors opened abruptly, and a bright light spilled into the dim, smoky chamber. A gentleman stood in the entrance, outlined by the light as if he were an image in some holy icon. He was dressed in a long, dark coat, white shirt and shirtwaist, and trousers. He was hatless, with short blond hair gleaming in the light. He had a full, neat beard and mustache of the same color.

  He didn’t look anything like the Ankh we’d seen only a week ago. But as soon as he spoke, he confirmed his identity.

  “Welcome, my darlings,” said the leader of the Society of Sekhmet. “I trust you all are enjoying your evening?”

  A low murmur rumbled through the chamber. Many of the young women were fully reclined, sleeping or otherwise unconscious. An uncomfortable prickle slid over my skin. Something was very wrong. But what? I sniffed from my vial again.

  The Ankh laughed in a genteel, husky manner. “Very well, then, please carry on with your pleasure. I shall have need of only two of you tonight to join the Inner Circle. Who shall be the fortunate ones?”

  He stepped into the chamber, using a walking stick for emphasis, and was followed by the two identical women who’d been at his side during the last meeting. My partner’s interest tensed through her body as we watched the trio walk through the lumps of cushions, stopping at one not far from ours.

  “You,” intoned the Ankh, gesturing with the walking stick. “You are worthy.”

  One of the servants bent and assisted a young woman to her feet. Rather than seeming apprehensive, the girl curtseyed unsteadily.

  My companion hissed something under her breath, and the Ankh turned suddenly, looking in our direction. And then, as if pulled by an invisible string, he began to move toward us. One servant led the woman he’d already chosen toward the open doors while the second one accompanied her master.

  I tensed as the Ankh came closer. I could leap up and attack. Easy to knock him to the ground and take on the servant at the same time. I glanced at Miss Holmes. She shook her head in a short, sharp movement. No.

  What the blooming fish was wrong with her? This was our chance! I gave her a violent glare, tensing and ready to spring. My breathing steadied. I curled my fingers around the small pistol in my pocket as the Ankh came closer.

  Then Pix’s fingers closed around my arm. “Nay, luv,” he breathed in my ear. “Look.”

  Him too? Bristling, I turned . . . then I saw what caught his attention. The two large men who’d tried to capture us at the last Society of Sekhmet meeting stood just beyond
the doorway. One of them held a shiny, evil-looking firearm.

  Drat and blast! Even I couldn’t compete with a bullet. I settled back onto the cushion, trying to look unobtrusive. As he drew nearer, my pulse sped up again. Could there be a way? If he came close enough? Energy sang in my veins. I knew what to do. I could do this . . .

  I cast a quick glance at Miss Holmes. She seemed hypnotized by the commanding person.

  When the Ankh did the unthinkable, pausing next to us, I closed my fingers surreptitiously around the pocketed pistol again. Trying not to look directly at him, I readied myself. One . . . two . . . thr—

  “You,” said the Ankh. “Come with me.”

  Miss Stoker

  Miss Stoker Is Taken Off Guard

  I wasn’t about to let Miss Holmes be dragged off into whatever danger lurked behind those doors. I began to rise.

  But she met my eyes, giving me a mute plea to wait. I stilled, even though every part of my vampire-hunting body wanted to do otherwise.

  As she stood, Miss Holmes’s expression changed into a slack, uninteresting, drugged one . . . like that of the other young women surrounding us.

  It was difficult, but I forced myself to also appear drowsy and incoherent. The best course of action was to remain unnoticed and not to look at the Ankh directly. I didn’t want to be recognized. But what had drawn him to Miss Holmes?

  Then, as if he read my mind, the Ankh’s stare settled heavily on me for a long moment. Every one of my muscles tensed and was ready. My fingers still gripped the pistol, and it was all I could do to keep from bolting up and brandishing it. It was Pix’s presence and his unusual caution that kept me from doing so. From the corner of my downcast eyes, I saw Miss Holmes’s skirts drag over the floor as she followed the Ankh’s servant.

  Would I ever see her again?

  The Ankh turned and walked back toward the open double doors, nodding to the two large men standing there. I sneaked a whiff from my vial.

  As soon as the doors closed behind the Ankh, I lunged to my feet. I reached the hidden side door before I realized Pix had followed me. “Wot do ye think you’re doin’?”

  “I’m going after her.” I meant to go back into the hallway through which Miss Holmes had brought me, hoping there was another door into the room beyond. “I don’t know what the Ankh is planning, but it can’t be good. We’ve got to stop it.”

  “I can’t let ye—”

  I shook off his grip once again. “You can’t stop me. I’m a vampire rozzer, remember?”

  “Aye,” he said, his eyes dark and serious. They looked like deep wells of ink. “That ye are. Every bit o’ ye.”

  Pix moved toward me, his gaze holding mine. I felt the solid wall pressing against my spine and shoulders. My pulse leapt as he eased closer. I could hardly breathe as heat rushed over me and my knees threatened to buckle. Then his mouth covered mine, soft and firm and warm, sending a shock of pleasure jolting through my body.

  His hands, those long-fingered thief’s hands, slipped around my jaw, curving to cup the back of my neck as he kissed me. It was a sleek, gentle sweep of lips over lips . . . and it turned into a tender nibble at the corner of my mouth.

  Then all at once, he released me and stepped back. My whole body was hot and trembly. My knees shook, and I could do nothing but stare at him for a moment, my lips moist and throbbing, my heart thundering like a runaway horse.

  “Aye,” he said, his voice deep. “Every bit o’ ye, Evaline Stoker.”

  I swallowed and tried to find my voice. “How—how dare you.” He was a thief and a criminal, and he was here in the middle of an opium den. Not at all the type of man who should be kissing a young woman like me.

  Not at all the type of man a young woman like me should be allowing to kiss her.

  Instead of being put off by my outrage, he grinned crookedly and stepped back. “I’ll take care o’ that one,” he said, gesturing to the original guard, who still stood at the other end of the chamber. The one I’d forgotten about in the last few moments, when Pix had had the audacity to push me up against the wall and kiss me.

  He’d kissed me.

  I reached up to touch my lips, then froze. But he’d already started off and, thank the blooming fish, didn’t see. I needed another sniff from the vial. Head clearer, I slipped the tiny tube into my pocket and let myself through the door back into the hidden side hallway.

  In here, the air was cooler and clearer. The last bit of my mottleness faded. I had to find out what was happening with the Inner Circle, but more importantly, I had to drag Miss Holmes out of there before she got herself in trouble. There were times when one couldn’t plan for things. I didn’t know what Pix was doing here, but he seemed perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

  First he kisses my hand, then he kisses me? Who did he think he was?

  Right. Forget about him. I had a job to do. I focused on that.

  I was correct: the side corridor ran parallel all along the chamber where the Ankh had taken Mina. But drat! The hallway was no longer unoccupied.

  The woman and I stared at each other in the same frozen moment, but I recovered more quickly. By the time she opened her mouth to scream, I was flying through the air toward her.

  We tumbled to the ground. The unexpected force knocked the breath out of her so that she didn’t have the chance to cry out. I shoved her facedown on the ground, my knee pressing between her shoulder blades to hold her immobile. She was unable to draw a deep breath even to speak. I was just about to use the leather trim on my bonnet to tie her wrists together when I had an idea.

  She was one of the twin females—either Bastet or Amunet—who’d led Mina and the other girl away. I decided I would take her place. Pleased with my plan, I tore a piece of my petticoat away and tied it over her mouth, then bound her ankles together.

  Then I pulled her long, black, shapeless shift up and off and tied her wrists together behind her back. This left her clothed in a plain white chemise and her underthings. She might be a little chilled, but it wasn’t completely improper.

  It would normally be impossible to undress myself, with all the lacings and buttons that marched up the back of my clothing, as well as the ungainly petticoats. But since I was wearing a costume borrowed from the theater, it was made to be donned and removed more quickly and easily than a normal gown. Why didn’t they make all gowns so simple to wear?

  For the finishing touch, I placed my hat, with the red curls attached, on my captive’s head. With my dark hair still pinned in place, anyone would mistake me for her from a distance for a few moments. I tucked my pistol, knife, stake, and other tools into the handy pockets of the tunic.

  I was just about to enter the room where Miss Holmes was when I saw a shadow at the other end of the passage. Pix was back, and he looked satisfied. I took that as an indication that he’d “taken care of” the guard.

  “No’ bad,” he said, gesturing to my prisoner and taking in the sight of me dressed as her.

  I was still furious with him for taking liberties, so I glared. “What are you doing here?”

  “Ye can’t go in there alone,” he said, pointing to the chamber.

  “I certainly can. And you—if you want to do something useful, you can get all those young women out of here. I’m sure you’ll find at least one of them grateful enough to allow you to kiss her.”

  He flashed a grin, then sobered. “Ye can’t go in there alone.”

  “If you know who I am, then you know I’m made for this, Pix,” I told him. “This is what I have to do. I’m not helpless. I’m stronger and more capable than any other man or woman—even you. But those young women back in there? They are helpless. They need help. I don’t.”

  He looked at me for a long moment. Then he gave a short nod. His lips were a flat line. “A’right. I’ll take ’em an’ Jemmy an’ the other boys out o’ ’ere.”

  “What are all those young men doing here, anyway?”

  Pix’s eyes grew dark. “She—
’e—whoever ’tis—lured ’em in t’work fer ’em. F’the Society. But ’twas a bait and switch, an’ half o’ ’em are opium-eaters now and canna leave. I come t’find Jemmy and bring ’im ’ome.”

  “That’s what you were doing at the museum that night, weren’t you? Trying to find him? They were there, weren’t they? The Society and the Ankh.”

  “I ’ear things, luv. I ’ear lots o’ things on th’ streets and in th’ stews. Not all of ’em are good. No’ all of ’em ’re true. But sometimes . . .” He shrugged.

  “I must go. Thank you, Pix,” I said, surprised how much I meant it. I couldn’t help watching as he slipped off back down the passage. Then I opened the door to the Inner Circle.

  No one in the room seemed to notice when I crept inside. I looked around, mentally marking exits, potential weapons, and traps. Unlike the other chamber, this one was well lit. The Arabian thieves’ den decor was nonexistent. The walls were beige, and electric sconces lined the space. Part of the roof was open to the night sky, as if it had been folded back like the pleats in a fan. Above, floating like eerie dark clouds, was a trio of sky-anchors. And beyond them, high in the heavens, was a sprinkling of stars and moonlit gray clouds.

  Beneath that opening in the roof was a small dais with four wide steps leading to it on each side. A white table stood at the front, and arranged on it was a long, golden scepter, whose knob was the head of a lion, and an object that looked like a long golden loop with three bars running through it. The sistrum of Sekhmet? Next to the altar was the large statue of Sekhmet we’d seen at the previous gathering. Had Mr. Eckhert really traveled back in time using that thing?

  The Ankh stood on the stage. In front of him was a large, ancient book on a small podium, its pages held open by a set of metal fingers. To one side was another table containing several items: a gleaming golden bracelet and a crown; candles suspended in intricate brass and bronze holders contained flames that danced in the night breeze; and golden bowls, cups, flasks, and other utensils. Standing behind the table was a device that resembled a crude skeleton made from metal: it had spindly legs and even spindlier arms. Wires protruded from its body.