Raven withdrew her sword from defensive position and returned it to the magnets on her back. She darted back to the bedside and knelt. She pulled the young baron’s hand into hers. “Darius. Are you okay?”
The boy had a pale but calm pallor. He shook his head, but his wide eyes watched the door and grew as the captain stepped in.
In perfect diplomatic fashion, the captain lowered his posture and knelt beside the baron’s bedside as well. “It’s all right Darius. I’m not here to hurt you. I promise.”
“But my father said—”
“Let’s not worry about what he said. We’ve got more pressing matters right now. Like getting you better. Do you feel well?”
Darius nodded, but his hands still clutched the bed sheet. His eyes remained wide, and for a moment, Raven feared he might have another episode.
Lingering in his knelt position beside Darius’s bed, Captain Grant turned toward Marietta. “I need to know everything you know about the automaton prototypes from Ipswich. What can you tell me about them?”
Marietta pulled her robe tight over her chest again and chewed on her bottom lip. She met eyes with the captain, but they were unfocused and distant looking. “Most of the prototypes I’ve seen in and around Ipswich are nearly unrecognizable as mechanical. They look perfectly human but their mannerisms usually give them away. They cannot read or interpret body language like an astute human being can. Instead they tend to be oblivious.”
Grant nodded. “I’ve noticed as much. What of their fuel source? What are their strengths, weaknesses?”
Outside a murmur grew into a crescendo, drawing Raven to the window. Chanting. Several voices all at once saying the same thing. Raven’s breath hitched. Outside the window, the courtyard was filled with dozens of new recruits, led by the butler and other members of the house staff. In one unified voice, they replayed the duke’s message. “Kill him. Kill Darius now.”
Things are never hopeless. Do not stop trying until death gathers one home.
JACK’S GRIP ON the curtain pulled it from one of the brass rungs by which it hung. He whipped it closed and gestured for Marietta and Raven to do the same. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. “I can’t believe it. All thirty new recruits were mechanical men?”
His feet felt stuck in tar, and his boots grew heavy from it. His legs felt suddenly tired. Where could they go? What could they do?
Raven met eyes with him for a brief moment, and then she was moving. She rushed to Darius’s bedside. “How do you feel? Can you walk?”
The boy nodded. The color he’d gained from the return of his good health was now lost.
Raven’s gaze darted toward Marietta. “Dress behind the screen as quickly as you can. We need to move.”
“We’re surrounded.” Jack’s voice croaked as he assessed the situation through the crack in the curtain. The recruits to the front had begun dispersing to the sides of the building. It wouldn’t be long before the court was completely encircled.
Raven shook her head, and her determined eyes focused on his. “There is always a means of escape. Always.”
Marietta returned from behind the screen wearing an outfit grossly similar to the female reaper’s. It caused them all to do a double take, and young Darius gasped. The only difference was in the color. Instead of black, it was a deep, dark burgundy, and the cropped jacket was gold instead of purple. Marietta had even taken her red hair and pushed it into a bun similar to Raven’s. She gestured to herself with a flourish. “Black is much too plain for a woman like me. What do you think?”
Raven rolled her eyes and focused again on the young baron. “Darius. Think hard. Is there a way out that would not include the main doors? Don’t these sorts of buildings have tunnels or hidden passages?”
The child shook his head. “There are none. I’ve been searching for them my whole life and never found one. Solomon told me that he’d looked too and never discovered one either.”
Raven winced.
Jack had expected as much. The first duke had been in constant fear of his life. Although he’d had a fortified room installed with steel walls and fireproof doors which were impossible to penetrate, he’d feared a secret passage would have given an enemy the chance to enter in as undetected as someone leaving. Further, the first duke didn’t trust anyone—not even his architect—to keep secrets.
“No secret passages. Wonderful. Perhaps we can make escape through the cellar? Maybe the cellar door won’t be as easily guarded?”
Jack shook his head. “The cellar door exits almost immediately next to the west wing’s service entrance. Considering the number of servants standing outside among the automatons, I’d be surprised if they didn’t have the exit thoroughly covered.”
Raven had begun to pace. Her feline movements made her look like a caged panther. Her eyes were stormy and wild as she continued to rack her brain. Jack hated to see her this way. “They are not looking for me. Perhaps I can hurry out myself and bring back reinforcements?”
She moved the curtain back an inch to look outside again. “I don’t believe we have the time. We need to move quickly.”
Marietta yawned and leapt onto the bed, her bag in hand. “Why not go to the roof?”
Everyone stared at her. Then it hit Jack. “Of course. There must be at least three zeppelins tethered there. We can make our escape to one of them.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Raven’s mouth. She nodded. “Let’s go.”
Jack led them through the hallway, rushing ahead, but staying on high alert. The lush red carpet in the hall absorbed their hurried steps but also made it difficult to hear anyone else’s approach. They darted toward the west wing’s servant staircase since the main stairs were open to the main entrance. He opened the door and listened for any movement up or down the case. When certain the coast was clear, he motioned for the group to hurry up the metal stairs.
They bypassed the third floor exit and continued up to the roof. Jack hung back in the rear, his hand ready on the butt of his pistol as they reached the top. What if the engineer in charge of the docking station was one of them? Could he trust that any human in the duke’s employ was not a mechanical man?
Raven pushed open the trapdoor and pulled herself up the last rung of the case, motioning for them to wait while she checked the roof. The ragged breathing of the threesome filled the space and echoed through the narrow stairwell. A flash of blue light overhead surprised them all, and they caught their breath.
It had become steady with a low hum Jack knew all too well. The panicked look on Darius's face as he backed from the trapdoor told Jack his conclusion had to be correct. His whispered voice sounded overloud in the quiet staircase. “The Wood Witch? But she was dead.”
Marietta’s eyes were wide and frightened. She counted on her fingers a moment, looking in the distance, and then leaned toward Jack and whispered, “Where have you lot kept her? You hadn’t buried her yet in the churchyard?”
Jack shook his head. “No. The alchemic surveyor kept the body in his cooler. He needed to run tests.”
“Resurrection weed. It has to have been. That old trickster.” Marietta pounded her fist on her thigh. “I didn’t see any, but she must have taken it sometime while we were in the shelter. It makes her appear dead for three days. She knew we wouldn’t bury her at the bewitched mountain. She knew we’d bring her body here. That old witch had no worries about being buried alive! If we’d gotten her into the ground before it wore off…”
“But it’s been nearly six days since we were on that mountain. No one has reported her as anything but dead.”
Marietta nodded, her eyes twinkling. “And who’s to say that the alchemic surveyor isn’t now under the witch’s control?”
Jack gulped and darted for the trapdoor. “Raven…”
The redhead set a hand on his chest gently and shook her head. “Wait.”
She fished through her bag and pulled out a strip of cork wood. With quick tug of her knife, she cut two sma
ll plugs. “Place these in your ears. It will not squelch the witch’s power, but the spell works on your auditory nerves, so this will dull it. Your willpower will be what determines if you’re able to move or not from there.”
He nodded and stuck the cork plugs in his ears. They were a little small, but the whistling sound had dulled considerably. He gestured toward Darius who sat on the step, eyes wide and fingers in his ears. “Take care of him?”
Marietta nodded and withdrew a small bottle marked chamomile. “Don’t worry. I’ll do that.”
Jack drew a deep breath and threw himself over the lip of the hatch. His joints felt the immediate effects of the blue light. They stiffened, as though rusted and in need of oil. His movements slowed but didn’t cease completely. Raven lay on the ground, her eyes unblinking and unfocused.
Then the whispers came around the edges of his cork plugs. “Failure. Reject. Worthless. Your father left because of you. Your mother never loved you.”
He shook his head and concentrated. It didn’t matter what his birth father and mother were like. His aunt and her husband had been better parents to him than he could have asked for. They loved him unconditionally and completely. He pictured their loving, proud faces and withdrew his gun from his holster. His fingers betrayed him, and the pistol slipped from his flaccid grip.
He winced and clenched his teeth as the weapon skidded away from him. The air had become heavy like water, difficult for his arms and legs to move through. He stumbled a step toward it, but his left foot refused to budge and he fell to his knees. The stony rooftop dug into his palms with sharp points, forcing a cry from his lips. His palms bled.
Keeping his thoughts positive while a voice whispered in his ears his failures and fears was harder than he’d realized. His joints felt as though they needed grease. He crawled to his pistol, but hardly had the strength to lift the weapon. With his other thumb, he shoved the corks farther into his ears and took a deep breath. It helped.
Raven remained immobilized in the gravel upon the rooftop. Silver zeppelins overhead blotted the evening sky. Only the blue light penetrated the dark shadows. The witch stood with arms raised, the veins on her body pulsing and glowing. She’d aged more. Behind her sat the engineer at the controls to the blimps overhead. In the blue light, the pale skin of the engineer became clear, and the metal beneath glowed green.
“Another mechanical man?” Jack asked.
The Wood Witch smiled and focused on him. “Why, yes. Cracking contraptions are they not? My own invention, in fact.”
Although her voice was muted, he could follow her words and read her lips. Jack pulled himself to his knees and rocked back so that he sat on his heels. “Your invention?”
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 finger tips. 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 h
ead, 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…
Creeden, Pauline - [Chronicles of Steele - Raven] - Episode 4 Page 4
