Chronicles of Steele: Raven: The Complete Story

by Pauline Creeden

  The old woman nodded. “Your baron isn’t the only child I’ve come across with the ability of electromagnetic manipulation. I’ve harvested four hearts, but none as powerful as his.”

  The witch’s nonchalant talk gagged him. Or maybe it was combined with the dizziness of fighting the whispers. “And you used these machines to infiltrate the court?”

  Her smile cracked wider, revealing a blackened premolar. “It wasn’t difficult. Once your duke wanted to trade in his weak, pathetic limbs for the strength and power of mechanized brass, he sought out the best, most powerful alchemist he could find. Me, of course.”

  “But the duke wouldn’t allow the nobles…the citizens even to use your services.”

  “A ruse, of course. If he continued to deny his people access to my services and denounced me, they wouldn’t suspect that he was my most important client. He also did his best to thwart his enemies from using my services, but it didn’t matter. He had no idea that the one he held closest was the very one with a knife to his heart.” Her laughter rang hollow.

  Jack did his best to stand again but couldn’t lift himself from his hands and knees. He still couldn’t steady his arm enough to use his pistol.

  The whispers intensified. “Worthless you are. Weak.”

  He needed to do something, but he couldn’t. The voices were right. He was too weak. Although each crawling step bit into his palms and left a trail of blood behind, he crawled closer to Raven. He placed her head in his lap.

  “Oh, how touching.” The witch laughed. “Do say good-bye to the lady reaper. She’s been in the power of the spell too much over the past few weeks. She’s grown weaker to its grip. It won’t be long until she slips into its clutches completely.”

  Jack looked down into Raven’s pale, weak face. Her violet eyes had grown dull and lifeless. He put his fingers to her neck and her weak pulse barely registered against his fingertips. He tightened his jaw and prepared himself. He licked his lips, met Raven’s eyes and said, “You’re not worthless. You’re not weak. You’re the strongest, most incredible person I’ve ever met. Don’t believe the witch’s lies.” Then he pulled the plugs from his ears, and pressed them into hers.

  Raven blinked hard and gasped for breath. Each breath she took had been shallow because of the huge weight on her chest. When she looked down, she found Grant strewn across her body, his unblinking eyes staring at her. Was he dead? Blue light danced across his features. No. Not dead. The voices had receded to wisps. She could barely make out the words now with the corks in her ears.

  She pushed Grant gently from her body and sat up. Her joints moved slowly, as through water. She felt as though she’d been submerged, and her closed ears tended to solidify the feeling. She blinked several times trying to moisten her dry eyes and stood. Her body felt heavier than normal, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

  Across from her, the witch sneered. The old woman’s eyes narrowed and her lips moved.

  Raven smiled and said, “Pardon me? I can’t hear a word you’re saying.”

  The witch’s eyes grew wide and she took a fearful step back.

  Raven reached over her shoulder and pulled the red cord sword from the magnets, feeling them rather than hearing them snap. She leveled the blade with the witch’s chest and charged forward. The blue light around them diminished completely, and shadow filled the rooftop. She was still several paces from the witch’s last location as she pulled the green tinted night vision goggles over her head. She spotted the witch as the old crone reached a rope ladder.

  A flash of light of a metal tipped arrow rushed toward Raven and she leapt to her left, but the knife-like tip ripped through the flesh of her upper right arm. She winced and rolled over the gravel, leaping back to her feet. If it had not been for the earplugs she’d have heard it coming.

  As a reaper, she’d been trained to rely upon all of her senses more heavily than her sight, but now she realized that it had been a mistake to train in blindfolds but never earplugs. Across from her, the engineer stood between her and the witch. In the green of the night vision goggles, the man glowed ominously, as though he had steam rising from his skin. Unusual. The man also seemed to know exactly where Raven was even without the use of night vision goggles. Also peculiar.

  Raven came to the only conclusion available. He was an Ipswich automaton. And he was reloading his crossbow without looking. She whipped the sword behind her and snapped it to her back once more, withdrawing her crossbow. But before she could get it into position, the engineer’s arrow had been released. She launched herself to the ground to avoid the bolt when a large bang made it past her cork plugs. A gun report.

  The engineer whipped to the side, half of its head missing. Sparks flew from the hole, causing her to have momentary flash blindness before she removed the goggles. She swiped at her eyes, doing her best to relieve the dots which danced before them. A hand rested on her shoulder and she flinched away. But in the sparking firelight which emanated from what was once the engineer, she found the soft brown eyes of Captain Grant looming above her, a smile spread across his face. He pushed out a hand in her direction and she read his lips. “Come on.”

  She gripped his fingers and leapt to her feet. The engineer had begun to smolder and the light he created faded. She shook her head, and pulled him toward her to bring his lips closer to her ear. She asked. “How did you know where to fire without the aid of night vision goggles?”

  He shouted so that she could hear him through the cork. “His eyes shone in the dark when he turned his head. It gave me a precise target.”

  She nodded and relaxed her grip, but he kept his as they ran across the rooftop for the rope ladder the witch had ascended. The witch was out of sight so she released the corks from her ears. A scream from behind them was the first sound she heard. “Raven!”

  “Darius.” She pulled her hand from Grant’s fingers and spun on her heel. She dashed in the direction of the scream and pulled the night vision goggles over her eyes again. In the green tint of the goggles, she found Darius and Marietta running toward her—and mechanical men pouring from the roof hatch they’d just left.

  The chant would drive her mad. Over and over they played the recording of the duke’s final words, the sound of them scathing her ears like the scrape of a blacksmith’s file against a steel horseshoe.

  Raven pulled the sword with her free hand and aimed the crossbow at the face of the closest one. With a measured breath, she pulled the trigger and hit him directly in the eye. It sparked very little. She pulled the mechanism in the bow with one finger to load the next bolt automatically. The gears whirled too slowly. Another bang went off behind her, and the mechanical man behind the one she’d shot dropped in a blaze of sparks, blinding her again. She bit on a curse and yanked her goggles from her face.

  Spots danced before her eyes and she blinked hard to free herself from them. Darius caught her about the waist and swung himself behind her and Marietta joined him. Grant caught up and stood next to Raven, his pistol firing once more and taking down another of the mechanical men in a blaze of sparks and oil.

  At least this time she didn’t have her goggles on. Her vision cleared and she aimed for the head of another mechanical man and brought it down. She flipped the latch on her reloader, but the automatons were coming too fast. She replaced the crossbow on her back and prepared herself for the onslaught as a dozen ran toward her. She focused and assessed her ability to fight with Darius clinging to her but decided to do her best. If the Wood Witch got hold of Darius now…

  The first mechanical man met her with his sword, taking a wild swing in her direction. Grant fired once more at close range and pulled his knife from his belt to parry the blade aimed for his chest. Another gun report, farther away, put one of the mechanical men near the back in flames. Through the clashing steel, Raven heard a shout and recognized the faces of Monroe, Colton, and Rupert along with others of the guard she’d grown accustomed to. They joined the fray and their help drew a smile
to her lips.

  She redoubled her effort, but at the same time, retreated to take care not to put the young baron in danger. With each step backward, Darius followed her movements like a perfect dance partner. After chopping the hands from the mechanical man before her, she ran it through, sending sparks showering around them. If not for the gruesome situation, the showering of sparks would have been beautiful.

  Grant had commandeered a sword from one of the mechanical men and shouted commands for his soldiers to encircle the remaining mechanicals. Raven met eyes with Monroe and gestured for him to follow her. Marietta stayed behind, her hands wringing as she watched the guardsmen dispatch the remainder of the Ipswich machines.

  When Monroe caught up with her, she pointed toward the rope ladder. “The witch went this way. I’m going to pursue. Will you watch Darius?”

  She squeezed the young boy’s hand. The young baron met eyes with her, but he nodded and let her go.

  Monroe shook his head. “But what about her spell?”

  Raven pulled the cork plugs from her jacket pocket. “I’ve got these.”

  He nodded and said, “Right then. Put them in now.”

  With a hard push of her thumb, she placed each plug in its proper place. The hemp rope ladder swayed as she pulled herself up the first few rungs. The motor on the zeppelin started and sent vibrations through the rope to her hands. The tether strained as the dirigible began pulling away. Raven scrambled up the ladder faster, her triceps burning from the exertion. Then the left side of the ladder gave way. The rope slipped through her fingers, burning her palms before she could stop her slide. She wrapped the rope once around her arm and her foot so she could stay still and shot a glance up.

  The light of zeppelin’s interior reflected on the knife's blade in the hand of the Wood Witch. And she hacked at the second rope on the ladder. Without hesitation, Raven reached behind her with her free hand and grabbed her crossbow. She aimed for the witch and released the trigger. The bolt went cleanly through the woman’s neck and continued through the cabin. It hit something within and an explosion rocked the dirigible.

  Blood dripped on Raven’s face from the witch above. The woman’s wrinkly fingers surrounded the hole in the center of her throat. The zeppelin lurched, and the woman fell through the hatch directly for Raven. The reaper yanked her arm and leg free of the rope and made a jump for the rooftop edge before the body hit her.

  Her chin smacked the lip of the roof, and the copper taste of blood filled her mouth. She dropped her crossbow and grasped the edge of the rooftop with her fingertips. Desperately, her feet sought purchase on the side of the building, but her hands slowly slipped. Three stories. She might survive, but not without broken bones. Her eyes filled with unbidden tears as her fingers lost hold.

  Hands grabbed her wrists, nearly pulling her shoulders out of joint. She blinked away her tears. Monroe held one side, Captain Grant the other.

  The wide, toothy grins on both of their faces shone through the greasy grime they were covered in from the mechanicals. Her heart felt lighter as they pulled her over the edge. Another explosion behind her sent the three of them to the floor of the roof and brightened the scene with the light of day. The other guardsmen rushed over to help them all to their feet. The eight of them peered at the smoldering heap of the zeppelin that had landed in the empty courtyard, burning the trees along the perimeter.

  In the light of the fire, Raven searched for the body of the Wood Witch and found her broken remains on the ground below, her arms and legs set at odd angles. A crimson stain covered much of the front of the woman’s grey smock.

  Another life to redeem.

  But still, relief flooded Raven, and in the sudden loss of adrenaline, she felt tired and sore. Darius rushed to her side and threw his arms about her waist. Tears filled her eyes again. It was over, truly over this time.

  The guardsmen, Marietta, and Monroe all peered over the edge with her at the witch. Grant set a hand on Raven’s shoulder, his smile wide. She read his lips. “I’d like to see her come back from that one.”

  Raven shook her head and withdrew the cork plugs. She couldn’t help the mild laugh that came to her lips. A metal scrape behind her jolted her out of her reverie. An automaton, more metal than human lunged toward Darius with a sword. She had no time. No time to pull a weapon or defend with the boy clinging to her side. She only had time to push Darius behind her and accept the blow herself. She winced in anticipation.

  Captain Grant leapt between them and knocked the sword to the side with the blade in his hand. But in the quick movement, his clumsy feet lost their footing on the gravel roof, and he fell to its surface. Raven pulled her blade from her back, but she wasn’t fast enough. The machine’s sword sunk into Grant’s stomach.

  With a scream, she beheaded the mechanical man in a shower of sparks and oil.

  She should have been faster. She should have saved Grant. This was her fault. And the whispering voice of her conscience reminded her that this would be another life she’d need to redeem.

  Nothing is over until it’s over.

  RAVEN WALKED IN a fog of depression. Hands and feet flurried around her. The guards rushed the body of Captain Grant down the steps and to the main building. Colton hurried off to find the doctor while Marietta did what she could to stop the bleeding.

  Pain filled Raven’s chest, and she felt like she did when her father had been killed. Helpless. Useless. Frozen. Monroe was speaking to her, but all she could hear was the ringing in her ears—it was like she still had the earplugs in. She let the old man guide her down the steps after them all.

  They pushed Grant into a room and Gregory said something to her on his way in, but she didn’t hear him either. She pushed her back against the wall and sunk to the floor. She set her head on her knees and released the tears.

  “Raven.” It was Gregory’s voice again, and he shook her shoulder. “Raven. I need your help.”

  She blinked hard and looked up at the doctor. Not her doctor. And her heart didn’t break at the thought this time. It had already suffered so much pain that it couldn’t possibly suffer more, could it?

  “Raven.” Gregory smiled, and she felt nothing. “I need your blood. I just checked the Captain’s blood type, and he has the same as yours. I don’t have the stock of your blood here for a transfusion. I’ll need to take it directly from you.”

  She blinked hard, and the fog lightened around her. Hope. She nodded and leapt to her feet. She thrust her arm toward Gregory and said, “Take it. Take it all if it will save him.”

  He frowned but nodded and pulled her into the room with Captain Grant.

  Jack opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was Raven. She stood by the window of the bedroom, a hand clutched on the burgundy curtain. Droplets of rain clung to the glass, and the light bathed her in a silver glow. He’d never seen her so disheveled. Her hair stuck out in odd directions, and red rimmed her eyes. Had she been crying?

  His voice failed him when he parted his cracked lips to say her name. Instead, he just breathed a little heavier past his dry mouth. But it was enough for her. She unclenched the curtain and turned toward him, rushing to the side of his bed. The woman had hearing like none Jack could ever imagine.

  “Grant,” she called out and flung herself to her knees beside him. Her violet eyes were wide circles, pools of swirling liquid. Somehow it made her more stunning. Everything about her was beautiful.

  He tried to speak again, but couldn’t get past the dryness in his throat. He attempted to sit up, but the pain in his abdomen caused a grunt to escape his lips.

  Panic filled Raven’s face. “No, Grant, please. Just sit still. You’ve been injured and Gregory had to perform surgery.”

  Jack settled back down again and made a hand gesture to ask for a drink.

  Raven nodded and leapt to her feet. “I’ll get some water. And let Gregory know that you’re awake.”

  He grabbed her wrist and shook his head.

  Her
eyes narrowed in confusion. “You don’t want water?”

  He shook his head more aggressively.

  “…so you do want water, but you don’t want anyone to know you’re awake?”

  He nodded.

  Confusion twisted her eyebrows, but she nodded.

  He released her wrist and watched her head out the door. Why is it that he didn’t want anyone to know just yet? This was a rare moment that he’d had with Raven just now. If everyone knew that he was awake, then it would kill his chance to be with her alone. Even if it was just for a moment.

  After a short wait, Raven returned with a pitcher. She poured him a glass and set it on the nightstand. “I’ll need to help you sit up a bit to drink it. Gregory attached an intravenous needle to your arm to keep you from dehydration while you recovered from surgery.” She pointed to the tubing attached to his arm.

  He frowned. He’d never seen this sort of contraption before. Regardless, thirst still clawed at the back of his throat.

  Raven pulled two pillows from the trunk at the foot of the bed and approached him. “Don’t try to help me while I raise you up. Keep your stomach muscles relaxed, understood?”

  He nodded.

  She smiled, and his heart fluttered. Although he’d seen her offer this smile to Darius many times, it had been the first time she’d offered it to him. Her features were soft, making her look younger and more innocent. When she leaned toward him and helped him forward, he wouldn’t have been able to tighten his abdomen if he’d tried. His insides rebelled against his every command and became like gelatin. She smelled like leather and gear oil, but underneath it all was a feminine scent that couldn’t be masked by the masculine odors. It wasn’t created by flowers or powder, but Jack just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. She handled him skillfully but delicately and then propped the two pillows under him to help him sit reclined.