51
THE BISHOP
“I don’t get it,” Harley said as Logan drove through the rain-slicked roads of Edinburgh. “If we’re in such a hurry to find the Bishop, then why didn’t we just take a portal?”
“Too risky,” the Scotsman replied. “Your friend Aidan can track our signatures.”
“Smoke isn’t my friend.”
“Either way, portals are his territory. The sky is mine, so we flew.”
“Wouldn’t a phone call have been easier?” asked Natalia.
Logan sighed as he pulled the car into Mason’s Close. “You don’t call the Bishop. He monitors every airwave, every wire, and just about every thought. He knows what we need already. If he wanted to tell us, he’d have already told us.”
“So why bother coming in the first place?” she pressed.
“To give him another chance,” Logan replied tersely.
There were stories that the Bishop had once been human. Somewhere along the way, thanks to MERLIN Technology and dark sorcery, he’d managed to stretch his powers and his life across the centuries, at the expense of his humanity. He was now more monster than man, living in a shadowy world. The Bishop was like a spider, consuming when hungry and stealing body parts when his own limbs or organs began to wear out. He smelled bad. He looked even worse. Were it not for the fact that he seemed to know almost everything, even before it happened, he’d probably have been left alone to die. But knowledge is power. As long as the Bishop had it, kings and presidents would give him whatever he demanded in return for a secret or two. And it was no secret that the Bishop made them pay dearly.
“He won’t try to eat us, will he?” Natalia remembered Max’s warning.
Logan shook his head. “He doesn’t eat kids. Usually.” Logan smiled when Natalia squirmed. “Anyway, you aren’t coming in. Stay in the car and keep the doors locked—this place isn’t safe. The vehicle is protected by the best security technology in the world. So unless a troll turns up, you should be able to sit back and watch a movie while I do the talking.”
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Mason’s Close,” Logan replied. The words sounded like a curse as they left his mouth.
“I mean, is it hidden from civilians, like New Victoria? Or is it just a part of Edinburgh?” Natalia asked.
“It’s a cesspool filled with thieves and murderers, so mind yourself and keep your window rolled up,” Logan said.
“Why can’t you just give me a straight answer?”
Logan sighed. “No. The close is not hidden from civilians, but that doesn’t mean the degenerates who call it home are all from this world.”
“If we’re going to be stuck in the car watching television, why did you even bring us?” Harley wanted to know. “I can handle myself.”
“There’s no doubt about it,” Logan replied. “But you’re here as my insurance policy, so I expect you to follow orders and stay put.”
Harley crossed his arms in frustration as Logan parked the car next to a curb, opened the door, and disappeared into a nearby warehouse.
“What does that mean?” Natalia asked. “Insurance for what?”
Harley shook his head as he flipped on the television. “I don’t want to know.”
Natalia slid away from the door as a dark figure stumbled up to peer through the mirrored window as if he could see right through. He paused and then reached a shaky hand toward the door handle. There was a blue flash outside the car, and the figure staggered backward in confusion. He scratched his head, looking up and down the street as if he suddenly didn’t know where he was. Mumbling to himself, he wandered away.
Logan had been gone more than twenty minutes, and even though Natalia decided to take notes in her Book of Clues, Harley was starting to get into the movie. Then the car’s engine shut off, and the television died.
“That can’t be good,” Natalia said, as she looked out the window.
Harley slid over the front seat and tried to turn the backup generator on. It refused to come to life.
“The streetlights are out, too,” Natalia noted. “The whole grid must be down.”
“The only thing I can think of that could do that is an EMP.”
“A what?” Natalia asked.
“An Electromagnetic Pulse,” Harley explained. “The military uses it to shut down power prior to an attack. Anything with an electrical circuit is fried.”
Natalia glanced down at her digital watch and sighed. “You might be right. My watch stopped.”
“But why would anybody use an EMP here?” Harley mused. Yet even as he did, he saw the door to the nearby building explode outward. Logan jumped through, hitting the ground in a roll. His leather jacket was smoking. His face was dark with soot, and his fists were bleeding at the knuckles. With a grunt, Logan leaped over the hood of the car and slid across the hood before jumping inside. He pushed the keys into the ignition and turned.
“It’s dead,” Natalia warned. “Harley thinks we’ve been EMPed.”
The engine engaged immediately, but it didn’t sound right. Then Logan put it in gear and slammed his foot on the gas. The tires squealed as they raced the alley. The dashboard dials had changed. No longer reading miles per hour or how much gas was in the tank, the display was measuring spectral joules. Logan had switched the car from conventional power to MERLIN Tech!
“Seat belts on!” Logan ordered. “We’ve got company. That EMP was mine, but it won’t keep them down for long.”
“Keep who down?” Natalia shouted over the roar of the engine.
“The clockworks,” Logan responded.
As the words left his mouth, the biggest clockwork they’d ever seen blasted its way through the building Logan had left. The brick structure collapsed in a storm of dust and stone. The machine was even bigger than the Grimbots. It was constructed of brass and iron, and a cloud of steam poured out from its engines. The clockwork had a tiny head that was perched on top of a chest that looked like an oversized potbelly stove. It tore down telephone poles and tossed Dumpsters with its four arms, as it raced after their car.
“What about the Bishop?” Harley asked.
“Gone,” Logan replied. “Kidnapped. Or dead. That thing and a few of its friends were waiting for us.”
“Where are the other machines?”
“Out of commission.”
“What is it?” Natalia wanted to know.
“Class Six Nemesis Clockwork,” Logan replied, swinging to the side as a Dumpster crashed down to the left of the car.
“How do you know it’s a Class Six?”
“If it had been anything less,” Logan replied, as he slid around a corner, “the EMP would have finished it off.”
The Nemesis rounded the same corner, picking up an abandoned pickup truck along the way and hurling it at their car. Logan hit the brakes and the truck flew harmlessly overhead.
“We won’t last in this maze,” the Scotsman muttered, as he hit the accelerator and turned down another alley.
The Nemesis smashed through the corner of a building, but the steel and bricks didn’t slow it down. Natalia gasped. Logan was barreling toward a dead end. At the last minute he hit the brakes. “Everybody out!” he ordered as a cloud of smoke rose from the tires.
Logan pushed the Griffins into a nearby building before racing back to the car and extracting a suitcase from the trunk. Popping it open, he pulled out what Harley recognized as one of Monti’s Plasma Launchers. Logan loaded a glowing-blue canister into its breach and knelt on one knee. Shouldering the Plasma Launcher, he flipped down the targeting reticle and took aim at the approaching Nemesis.
He squeezed the trigger, and the missile shot out of the barrel in a blaze of blue fire, striking the Nemesis in the chest. It reeled backward from the impact, but there was no explosion. As Harley looked on, he could see a slimy gel splattered across the machine, which had frozen mid-stride. There was a creaking sound, like a windmill teetering in the wind, and then it crashed to th
e ground.
“Back inside!” Logan shouted. “Class Six clockworks have a nasty habit of getting back up.”
Sure enough, the three of them watched as the motor inside the Nemesis started to rev up. Then the lights behind its eyes flickered on. It was repairing itself.
“We don’t have long. Just stay close, and whatever you do, keep running.”
With that, Logan burst into the building, and the Griffins followed close behind. Moments later, the machine was fully operational. It plunged into the building, chasing its targets like a wrecking ball with feet.
52
OBADIAH STRANGE
Max couldn’t believe that such an immense structure could have been built in the middle of nowhere. It looked like a cross between a Tibetan temple and a Victorian mansion. High walls led to even higher gables. There were towering turrets with stained glass, balconies of polished iron, and so many lit windows that it almost seemed like a constellation of stars looking back at them.
The three travelers approached the frosty stairs that led to the front door.
“Strange is the lord of this house, and under his roof, my ability to protect you will be diminished,” the gargoyle warned. “Do not speak unless spoken to.”
The gargoyle pulled a tasseled cord, and a great gong rang out. A few moments later, the door swung open, revealing a large creature with orange skin who was dressed in servant’s attire. It might have been a man, apart from the cloven hooves and horse-like head. The creature’s eye sockets were filled with a warm yellow glow that flickered whenever he blinked, and Max thought he could hear a whirring sound.
“I am the servant of his Holiness, the Magnificent and Singular Obadiah Strange. My master is waiting for you in the parlor.”
The three travelers were ushered down a long hallway, over thick rugs and parquet flooring, past a gallery of artwork, and finally into the parlor. Leather couches were set to face one another, and a writing desk sat in the corner with an open book and quill at hand. There were several bookshelves that lined the outer walls, and tall windows with honeycombed leaded glass that peeked out from the balcony above. The room had no lights other than the roaring fireplace that consumed nearly a third of the back wall. In front of it stood a dark figure with his back to the newcomers. He was bald and broad-shouldered, and he was wearing green silk robes.
“Throckmorton, a colleague of Baron Lundgren,” announced the servant, who then backed out of the parlor, leaving them alone with the master of the house.
“Baron Lundgren?” spoke a smooth but commanding voice. “Is that the name he uses these days? Ah, well, times change. Which, of course, brings us to the point of your visit.”
Strange turned to his guests and said nothing for several long moments. He had a bronze face and a dark beard peppered with grey, and his eyes were hidden behind large spectacles.
“Von Strife is back,” the gargoyle finally announced.
“Is he?” Obadiah responded. “Well, it was bound to happen, wasn’t it? The Templar should have killed him when they had a chance. The man is a lunatic.”
“Some say the same of you,” Throckmorton replied.
“Do they, now?” Obadiah paused thoughtfully with a wry smile. “Curious. I suppose it’s a matter of taste. Still, what do these two children have to do with Von Strife? Are you hoping I’ll babysit them while you deal with Otto?” Strange paused as his eyes came to rest on Ernie. His expression changed to concern. “This is a changeling!”
Ernie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling rather naked. He hadn’t realized his condition had been so obvious.
The gargoyle nodded. “The other is the current Guardian of the Codex.”
“Now, there’s a bit of news I didn’t expect,” Obadiah said, raising an eyebrow as his gaze shifted to Max. “I don’t suppose you’ve brought the precious Codex with you?”
Max turned to Throckmorton for direction, but the gargoyle didn’t answer.
“I didn’t ask the talking rock; I asked you,” Strange said, his eyes never leaving Max. “So tell me, do you have it?”
“Yes, sir. It’s right here,” Max replied, raising his hand to show Strange the ring.
Strange started to reach for the Codex, but he stopped when Max recoiled. “That certainly is a powerful weapon for someone so young. How is it that you ended up with it?”
“I found it in my grandma’s attic.”
Obadiah laughed deeply. “Next you’ll tell me that you found the Brimstone Key under the cushions of a sofa.”
“You know about the Brimstone Key?” Ernie asked.
Throckmorton reached into his jacket and pulled our Lord Saxon’s diary before setting it on a table near Strange. “The Brimstone Key is precisely why we’ve come,” the gargoyle said.
Obadiah’s spectacles seemed to flicker for a moment as he regarded the book, but he didn’t touch it.
Throckmorton continued. “As you know, Obadiah, Lord Saxon knew where the key was placed, and he put the coordinates in this diary.”
“And you can’t read it,” Strange offered curtly.
“But you can?”
“Perhaps,” Strange returned enigmatically. “Though I’m curious, what would you do with the key if you found it?”
“Destroy it,” the gargoyle said flatly.
Strange seemed amused at the notion. “I’m not sure you’ve thought this through. The Brimstone Key can’t be destroyed.”
“There may be other options,” Throckmorton returned. “Yet without your assistance, there are none.”
“Lord Saxon was not a simple man,” Obadiah replied, as he paced near the fire. “If he wanted something kept a secret, then a secret it would remain. You’re free to leave the diary with me, though. If I find time, I may look it over.”
“How do we know you’ll give it back to us?” asked Max.
Obadiah’s face opened in a wide smile, revealing a mouthful of wooden teeth. “My dear boy. You don’t. But I’m the only hope you have left.”
53
A DRAGON RETURNS
“Get down!” Logan shouted as the railing of a falling staircase shot through the air where Natalia’s head had been only a split second before. The three had been moving from shop to shop, and apartment to apartment. The clockwork was relentless.
The Griffins followed Logan over the roofline of a tenement before leaping over a skylight. They took cover behind a nest of chimneys. Logan signaled for them to stay quiet. He scanned the skies for his support team.
“Wait,” Harley whispered. “I think it stopped moving…”
Logan signaled for everyone to stay still. He peered over the ledge where the street was choked with debris.
“It doesn’t seem like the type of machine that would give up,” noted Natalia.
Logan nodded. “Whoever built that thing definitely thought of a few upgrades since the last time I faced a Class Six. It’s running on more than simple gears, that’s for sure.”
“Do you think it was Von Strife?” Harley prompted.
“If it was…” Logan began, and then he heard a familiar pinging sound just beneath his feet. It was followed by a humming roar of an engine whirring to life. Then the roof collapsed under their feet and the whirling of a thousand gears came to life. The clockwork’s four hands ripped apart the building as it sliced through the falling debris.
Harley saw a black helicopter hovering overhead. There was a rippling sound, as if the sky were being pushed aside. Then there was a flash from the gun deck. The clockwork shrieked as it was wrenched apart by an unseen force. All that was left was a pile of gears, armor, and twitching fingers. The machine was being eaten away by a strange red liquid.
“Is that a Templar helicopter?” asked Harley.
“No,” Logan said gruffly.
The helicopter landed on the roof. Natalia’s mouth fell open as a slim female dressed in black stepped through the door. Her black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, with a silver lock hanging in th
e front.
“I thought you could use some help,” Athena yelled over the roar of the blades.
Logan offered a curt nod. Then Athena saw Natalia, and their eyes locked. Natalia was afraid that if she spoke, Athena would disappear.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” Athena called out. “Someday, I’ll explain.”
Natalia was angry, sad, and relieved all at the same time. She had once thought of Athena as an older sister, but sisters didn’t betray one another.
“Two more Nemesis Six models are on their way,” Athena said. “You have five minutes, tops.”
Logan nodded.
“I’ll move to intercept, but I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to stop them.” Then her eyes returned to Natalia. “Will you wish me luck?”
Natalia’s voice caught in her throat.
Athena nodded sadly, and then disappeared back into the craft. It rose above the buildings before vanishing over the skyline.
54
HOPELESS
Back at Iron Bridge, everything was in a state of chaos. The students were terrified—especially the changelings. Each feared he or she might be next to disappear in a flash of black smoke. There had been discussions to suspend school indefinitely, but in the end, Cain decided that it was better to keep the students close so he could better protect them. Besides, Iron Bridge was as safe a place as any given the increased security measures—including the influx of gargoyle sentries standing guard on the rooftops.
Three days after their return, Max and Ernie were summoned to the Baron’s office. When he arrived, Cain was sitting at his desk across from Obadiah Strange. No longer in his green robes, Strange was dressed in a charcoal suit, with a top hat resting on his knee.
“I believe the two of you have met,” the Baron opened.
Max nodded as Strange reached into his trouser pocket to pull out a pipe and a bag of scented tobacco. Immediately the room smelled of peppermints, and as Strange lit his pipe, Max couldn’t help but think of Iver.
Grey Griffins: The Clockwork Chronicles #1: The Brimstone Key Page 19
