The Perilous In-Between

by Cortney Pearson

  Her eyes sparked at him. “I thought you couldn’t,” she snapped.

  The girl looked like someone from a photo shoot with her teal corset cinched up, accentuating all the right parts of her, the white shirt below the corset puffing at the sleeves and revealing just a snippet of shoulder, the way her hair curled and framed her fierce eyes and knockout expression. A glower, really, but for what it was worth she might as well be America’s Next Top Model.

  And right now she hated him.

  He found it hard to breathe, remembering the picture Starkey had of her in that folder. Straight brown hair hung past her shoulders. A loose, yellow shirt with little pink flowers on it. A careworn expression on her young, beautiful face. He hadn’t been able to fathom what could make a girl look as sad as that.

  And then he’d read her file.

  Her eyes glimmered until she glanced down at the ground. He couldn’t handle seeing her sad like this now. He took her hand.

  “Tori, I want to help you,” he said. “But it’s complicated.” Starkey’s warning about accepting consequences played fresh in his mind.

  “Tell me,” she pleaded, her expression fading into vulnerability. “Whatever it is, I want to know.”

  He thumbed her cheek. Was it possible Starkey was wrong about the cognitive disconnect? He didn’t fully understand the Kreak, maybe he didn’t understand everything about memories either. Something was going on with Victoria, something Starkey couldn’t explain.

  If it were him, he’d want the truth.

  “I—”

  Victoria stopped him with a hand on his chest. “What is that?”

  Graham followed her startled gaze to the water behind him. Directly in the lake’s center, the water was frothing, burbling as surely as a geyser at Yellowstone National Park.

  And something was rising from it.

  Thirty-five

  “There’s one in the lake?” Victoria screeched, gripping her hair. “There’s one in the lake!”

  A smaller version of the Kreak rose from the lake’s geyser, trembling and moving with a strange lilt as though its joints had been recently pieced together and it wasn’t quite sure how to move.

  Graham blinked. It wasn’t possible. The Kreak lived in the ocean. Starkey said it—it had always lived in the ocean.

  “But Starkey said—” Graham cut off, unable to finish. His hands flew to his hair, and he rotated as if worried he’d fall over. Panic streaked through his thoughts, bringing transparency with it. “He said he wouldn’t use the Gateway—that it wouldn’t attack—”

  “What are you saying?”

  “What does he think he’s doing?”

  “What are you talking about?” she demanded, but Graham couldn’t answer. He could only stare at the thing rising out of the lake. Starkey knew what would happen—why did he do it?

  “Quickly!” Victoria cried, gripping his wrist.

  “What has he done?” Graham muttered.

  “Come on!” she cried, jerking him back toward her hangar.

  The ground shuddered beneath his feet, rumbling like a quake with the miniature monster’s movements. Graham charged toward Victoria’s plane when the siren’s harsh shriek pierced the air.

  Victoria ducked and covered her ears. The sun beat down, reflecting off the monster’s metal, stabbing slices of light into her eyes. Its claws plowed into the grass, scarring the beautiful landscape. Victoria was transfixed in horror as the thing buckled several times, holding still enough to grant her vision access to the group of hearts within its metal chest.

  It gnashed iron teeth—one of them jarring upward like a shiny tusk—and then released a small roar that Victoria barely heard over the siren’s continual wail.

  “Come on!” Graham yelled, stealing her attention back to him. He’d already lifted the door to her hangar and was up Elsie’s ladder, holding on to the open hatch while bending to offer a hand in her direction.

  Victoria tucked up her skirts and ran to him, climbing the ladder as quickly as she could. Shouting clamored behind her and she stole a quick glance over her shoulder. Bronwyn, Emma, Aline, and Orpha were all running to their hangars as well, Orpha tucking her auburn tendrils of hair into a quick bun atop her head.

  Victoria made her way into the cockpit, settling into her familiar seat and pressing the hatch closed with a button. She fired the machine to life and gradually idled forward. She didn’t dare take to the air. This miniature fiend wasn’t anywhere near as ominous as its triple-sized counterpart.

  “Where did the beast come from?” Victoria wondered aloud. And how did her uncle not know about it? If he’d known of a second beast, surely she and the other girls would have been briefed on it.

  She pulled out of her hangar, the other planes rumbling behind her. Citizens ran helter skelter, including a few Exodus Nauts in training corsets. One girl screamed, pressed against her hangar’s steel side as if paralyzed. The smaller Kreak was heading straight for her.

  “Felicity!” Victoria shrieked, utter helplessness waving over her. The addled monster opened it mouth as green fumes collected within its jaws. “Run! Why doesn’t she run?”

  Graham swore behind her. The miniature Kreak snatched the girl by the waist, practically snapping her in half before dropping her back to the ground from several feet up. Victoria screamed, horrified at the sight, and the beast reared around as if it heard her. For a moment, the whole valley hushed. A tingle snagged Victoria’s spine, churning her stomach.

  “Get in the air, Tori,” Graham said in a deathly low growl that pinned her to the back of her seat. “Here comes the big one.”

  “What?”

  She craned her neck for a visual. The Kreak charged faster from downtown than she’d ever seen it move. Trundling on uneven legs from the pieces that’d been chunked away after its past few attacks, it made speed, heading straight for its smaller counterpart.

  Heading straight for them.

  “Fly, Tori!” Graham cried, slapping the back of her seat. “Get this thing in the air!”

  Upon the Kreak’s approach, its counterpart lifted its head, letting out a faint call, to which the Kreak, three times its size, released a violent, thunderous response.

  A few other planes took to their respective landing pads and were airborne in moments. Victoria followed suit, triggering the thrust. They shot forward with such swiftness that her stomach gave a stronger lurch than usual.

  She searched her beloved sky, but though evidence of its destruction was rampant, the towering Kreak that had careened through was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where is it?” she cried, hands trembling around the joystick. She heard Graham moving frantically as well, just as desperate for a sign of the creature. There were no clustered buildings here in the countryside, nothing for the two monsters to hide behind. “How can they have just disappeared?”

  If only she had her headset. The other Nauts hovered as well, obviously having the same difficulty.

  “They didn’t disappear,” Graham said. “You’re not going to like this, but they’re headed toward your house.”

  “What?”

  Graham’s hand spidered her head, forcing her attention southward. Trees were smashed. A portion of the Aviatory’s outer wing had been chunked away. A hovercarriage that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time lay steaming on the ground before Silverton Manor’s tangled, wrought iron fence.

  Victoria could see the Range, standing dignified and monumental and far too exposed. The smaller beast ricketed in that direction, following its much larger predecessor.

  Her mother was there. Uncle Jarvis, Linny, and the other servants. Panic crept at the base of her skull, the threat of that white-cold memory, but she forced it away. This was no time to lose her head.

  “They’ll have no warning,” she said, angling the plane around to alter its course. The
siren was an alert for the Nauts only, until now. Ordinary citizens, especially those in the countryside, took no heed but to go indoors or strap on a gas mask should they wish to view the events. It was as Rosalind had said—the Kreak had never made it this far inland before.

  She gunned the acceleration, slamming them both back into their seats.

  Rolling their heads and moving their clunky limbs across the ground, the monsters passed another grand home. Graham was right, they were headed straight for Gingham Range.

  “Hurry,” Graham said from behind. “You can ward them off. Fly over and bar their way!”

  “I cannot without putting us directly in their path. If only we’d had time to attach our ropes!”

  “There!” Graham called. “To your left!”

  The other Nauts gathered around the brutes and began spewing their flames at the creatures. Fear fisted over Victoria’s heart. That was her home. If the monsters didn’t destroy it, the flames surely would.

  “We’ve got to draw them away somehow,” she said.

  “I don’t see how,” said Graham.

  She chewed her lip, determination hardening in her throat. She angled around, taking to the back of her manor house seeing the pattern created by the hedge maze. This was the first time she’d flown over her home and paid attention to it. How she’d taken the place for granted. And now she was going to lose it. And her mother—where was her mother?

  She faced the Nauts, their flames orange bursts in the vacant blue sky, and began shooting her own flames at the creatures. The Kreak bowed low to its miniature before it wheeled around, using the force of its motion to whack at two of the planes and send them spinning. Victoria’s heart was in her throat as she watched the two planes struggle to right themselves and return to the fray. The smaller monster rose on its haunches and began clawing at the Range’s brick.

  “That fiend,” she said, changing gears to hang lower and meet it head on.

  Too late, she realized she should have kept her height. The larger of the two brutes lifted a massive, clockwork arm and swung at the east wing of her home.

  “No!” Blood slammed in her ears. Brick flew, and dust and ashes joined the disarray. The beast rose on its haunches and let out a disturbing cry like metal being pried away from its structure. It landed itself into the middle of the manor, sinking its claws into the shingles and tearing bits of the roof off like sprinkles on a cake. The smaller Kreak hobbled forward, its movements a rickety gait, and trampled the gardens she’d loved so.

  “Graham,” she said, able to do nothing but stare at the destruction. Mama. Uncle Jarvis. The larger beast tore its way through, swiping its metal talons, gashing straight into exposed rooms. It knocked beds, chairs, books and tea things off the unprotected edges as if they were nothing more than useless trinkets.

  Her palms sweated, but anger surged through her. She gripped the joystick like a weapon. Her home. Her beautiful home.

  “Those ruddy, good-for-nothing—”

  “Burn the monsters!” Graham shouted from behind.

  The fuel gauges remained at the ready. She gritted her teeth and jarred Elsie forward. Four planes spewed flames at the large brute dancing in the center of the destruction it created. The Kreak cowered under the force, retreating back toward the town. The planes followed, driving it toward the ocean.

  Victoria aimed at the smaller monster and slammed her finger on the trigger. Flames ignited from her hovercraft. Its clockwork eyes rolled and clicked, and it gazed directly at her, though she wasn’t sure it could see properly through rust and clacking ridges of metal.

  “Die,” she muttered. “Die, you terror!”

  Servants scrambled below, running from the monster, still adorned in their black serving attire. She was pleased to see their gas masks in place. Her eyes searched among them for signs of her mother, but no elegant lady in a fine dress of any kind could be seen.

  The cold, icy memory ballooned in her mind without warning, wiping her vision. She was in a room, hugging her knees to her chest. She was alone—she was sitting all alone—

  Her tongue swelled, making speech impossible. And though she urged her limbs to move, though she mentally fought, kicked, raged against the imposing thought, it nearly consumed her.

  “Tori!” Graham shouted, shaking her shoulders from behind. “Snap out of it. Wake up, Tori!”

  The ground was coming far too fast. They were going to crash.

  “Victoria!” Graham yelled.

  She yanked the joystick, pulling out just in time. She panted, disoriented, terrified, and relieved all at once. “I’m sorry,” she told him. “It’s happening more and more. I’m so sorry.”

  “Now’s not the time for apologies,” Graham snapped.

  She blinked at the remaining Nauts, Bronwyn, Emma, Aline, and Orpha each sending a powerful burst of her own flame at the beast. With a shriek, Victoria maneuvered lower and shot massive bouts of flame toward the tiny clockwork beast. It tumbled to the ground, crippled. The thing roared feebly before lowering its head in surrender, moving back toward the lake.

  “Victoria,” Graham said softly. “Do you guys have any kind of fire department here?”

  “What?” she said, barely able to register his question.

  The small Kreak had retreated, but her flames had not. They traveled on, catching onto the debris and invading the caverns that a day before had been walls of brick.

  “No,” she said under her breath.

  The fire’s orange tongues ate their way onto the carpets, eating table legs and lapping up decorative woodworking that must have taken years to craft. It licked bit by bit, spreading like a disease through her home until orange and smoke permeated the air.

  Thirty-six

  It was a miracle she was able to land, Graham thought, holding Victoria as she cried against his chest. Her sobs multiplied, and she trembled against him, her tears wetting his shoulder. He rubbed her back while an overwhelming helplessness coursed through him.

  Elsie and the other planes speckled across the destroyed landscape like large, landed bugs. The metal creatures had left scraping marks all along the roads. They upheaved grass and plowed through gravel. The town that had once been as picturesque as a painting was now in tatters.

  Graham stared at the sleeping lake. The small Kreak had fled, dragging its injured body back into the water. The lake looked like it always had. Still and silent, as though nothing had happened.

  The urge to investigate stitched through him, pricking at his fingers and urging him to let go of Victoria and dive in. He wanted to see where the metal beast was hiding. But he cradled her while she cried. She needed him. There would be time for all of that later.

  Gingham Range was a heaping mess. Flames had scoured through the whole thing before the simple fire carriage had made it over there. Blazes had lined every window and crawled into the air from every point of the house like a bad, orange hairstyle.

  Victoria’s mother, Jarvis, and the servants who’d made it out clustered near the wreckage, some still holding their gas masks as though the alien-looking contraptions could somehow help them now. Mrs. Digby—Graham wondered who she really was, was she really Victoria’s mother?—huddled in a blanket, sniffling and occasionally wiping her nose with that same blanket. Beside her, Jarvis stood and stared with blank eyes, and beyond them, the Merek guy Victoria was supposed to marry glared openly at Graham.

  Graham couldn’t think about him now. Only one person was on his mind. Starkey. Starkey had done this. The old man knew what would happen. He told Graham he wouldn’t use the Charge for a while.

  He’d lied.

  “Why would there be a second one?” Victoria’s voice was muffled against his chest. “We can scarcely handle the first.”

  He rubbed her back, his thoughts stampeding every which way. The other Nauts wandered around their parked plane
s, examining wreckage. And from the look of them, they were bickering.

  A hovercarriage puttered noisily up the once-immaculate drive. The driver was visible through the front, bubble-shaped window, slowing the hovney to a stop. It teetered and hovered several feet above the gravel. The driver dismounted and scurried to open the passenger door and lower its ladder.

  A broad man in a yellow waistcoat—no suit coat, Graham noticed—and that scarf-cravat thing hopped out, followed by Rosalind Baxter. Her black hair was tied back, and the pink corset and billowing green skirt were a good look for her. She opened a frilly umbrella and squinted toward Victoria still wrapped in Graham’s arms. Rosalind’s eyes weren’t bandaged anymore, but from the distant stare she held, he wasn’t sure how much she could actually see. She gave him a wilted, sympathetic smile and headed toward him.

  Graham bent to whisper in Victoria’s ear. Or her hair, at least. “Your friend is here,” he said.

  Victoria sniffed and pulled away. Red rimmed her eyes, and she hurried to wipe her cheeks. “Goodness, your shirt!” she said.

  He swiped a hand at the wet spot. “Something to remember you by,” he said stupidly. She smiled before turning to pull the other girl into a hug.

  Graham took in the scene a final time. Enid Digby was still wrapped in a blanket, now talking to several of the Nauts. The house was a ruin, burned beyond repair, and the more Graham saw, the angrier he felt. Rosalind had her arm draped around Victoria’s shoulders and was leading her to where her father stood near their hovercarriage. Graham treaded off, not bothering to say goodbye.

  Thirty-seven

  “Why’d you do it, Starkey? You knew the Kreak would attack if you used the Charge. You never should have—”

  “Come on now, Graham. You don’t think I did that?” Starkey sat in a wide library stocked to the limit with books. He lowered the book he’d been reading. Great Expectations. What a joke. Were great expectations what Starkey had when he’d started this whole mess?