Clockwork Looking Glass

by Michael Rigg

He nodded. “The one you can form by getting on your knees.”

  That was enough.

  Pandora thrust her crossed fingers between them and said, "No! Why don't you kneel, you slimy pervert!"

  Bradford Thorne jolted with the spell and did as he was told, dropping to his knees before Pandora. He looked up at her, his beady eyes stunned but held by her magics.

  "Tell me about the blockade you got goin' on in the Atlantic. And tell me what the ghoul's got to do with it."

  Thorne's jaw worked soundlessly for only a few syllables before he said, "I-It's to protect the Atlantis site, to keep the Confederates and Landrys away. We're—"

  "Landrys?"

  "They defaulted on the Atlantis contracts. Now it's mine."

  "Really?" Pandora smiled slyly. It was all starting to come together. The mark that bound Atlantis and Alice somehow formed a combination to attract anyone bloodthirsty for power. She had to get this to Bryce, and confront him about her mark... "Do you have the paperwork to this Atlantis thing?"

  Thorne nodded up at her.

  "Well then," she smiled. "I'll be taking them."

  The doors opened silently.

  Teivel Hearse stepped in, his eyes practically glowing like coals. "And I'll be taking that pretty little hand."

  ~~~~~~~

  After dinner, Bryce grudgingly went with his father to discuss matters, particularly matters concerning Alice and the distraction she was causing the entire family.

  Clayton and Lydia excused themselves separately before heading in different directions, Clayton toward the porch to smoke a cigar and Lady McFerran to the powder room. Savannah and mother helped the servants.

  Adeline took Alice by the hand as the servants came to clean up the dinner dishes. She led her to the back patio, a playful smile lighting up her face.

  Seven Orchards at night was even more beautiful than during the day. Electric lanterns and countless torches carrying the scent of Citronella formed a network of yellow stars throughout the garden, lining the path and illuminating the porch. Cricket song filled the air as a light summer breeze played through Adeline's hair. She tucked a loose strand behind her ear as she brought Alice to the edge of the porch and glanced at the house. "I have a secret," she beamed.

  "Secret?"

  Adeline nodded, biting her lower lip before pushing back a strand of Alice's long red hair behind her ear and giggling.

  "What's the secret?"

  Adeline wiggled her eyebrows and glanced around. She could hear the clanking of pots and dishes through the open kitchen windows, see the servants and mother moving back and forth. "Not here. Let's go to the gardens. Secrets are best told in secret places."

  Alice's nose wrinkled as she glanced toward the gardens, a timid glaze overcoming her eyes, but she nodded slightly.

  Taking her by the hand, Adeline led the way toward the large willow by the greenhouse. As they neared the glass enclosure, which glowed green from the mossy windows illuminated from within, Adeline had to tug harder on Alice's arm. "Come on, you'll love this!"

  "I think this is far enough, Addy." Adeline sighed, her giddiness almost uncontainable as she stopped and turned to face Alice. She bounced on her heels and wrinkled her nose mischievously. "Ooh, okay." She sucked air through her teeth as she drew a long breath.

  “Alice in Wanderland!”

  Adeline's head dropped as Savannah's voice carried over the gardens. "Oh, that little twerp is gonna ruin everything!" She grabbed Alice by the shoulders. "Wait here. Don't move."

  "But—"

  Adeline was already turning back toward the house. "I'll be right back! I'm just gonna chase the little scamp back to the house."

  "But I—"

  "Wait here, Alice! I swear, you'll love this!"

  Clayton Landry watched his sister run by, her shoes clipping on the cobblestone path, before he stepped out onto the path and strode purposefully toward the greenhouse. His eyes were dark and heavy, his mustache drawn down at the corners as he scowled.

  When he saw Alice standing near the willow, wringing her hands and glancing between the greenhouse and the main house, he smiled and ducked out of sight. He could almost feel her nervousness and knew what was going through her mind.

  Everything that Colonel Clayton Landry had worked for his entire life hinged on certain secrets being kept. He was content and happiest when the dark skeletons were held deep within the Landry closets. And now, on the eve of war, a war that could very well wipe out the Imperial North forever if what Lord Landry said was true, this... snipe... threatens to bring it all down like a house of cards. His affair with Lydia McFerran won him favor in future corporate holdings. She had already wired him thousands of dollars to help fund his own private air transportation company. Daddy definitely wouldn't like the idea of his first born splintering off from the family name to start his own corporation, or that—in Clayton's mind—Landry & McFerran, Inc. had a very different meaning. His seduction of the Lady McFerran had been a long time in the making, and now that the secret had been discovered by some Property....

  He looked around near his feet, kicking at the overgrowth of ferns near the path where he stood until he found what he wanted. He hefted the softball-sized stone and tested its weight before taking the path to his left, a wide arc that would bring him behind Alice. As he thought about cracking open her skull, his blood boiled in his veins. No one would miss her, and he knew the amnesia was only a ploy. Alice was as she appeared, a New York Property, a prostitute with designs on the Landry coffers. Clayton always thought his brother was dim, always hated him for garnering more favor with Daddy—why does he always get to go to the Hall of Thinking Machines?—but falling for the batting eyelashes of an Irisher whore.... Fool.

  ~~~~~~~

  Adeline shooed Savannah into the house and turned to run back to the garden when her mother called out to her.

  "Yes, Mother?"

  "Come here, dear, I need you in the kitchen."

  Adeline grunted as she glanced out to the starlit garden, then back to the house, the garden—

  "Adeline!"

  Sighing, she hurried into the house. "Coming, Mother!"

  ~~~~~~~

  Clayton moved slowly, cocking back his arm, anticipating the blow as he inched toward Alice.

  She hadn't heard him, hadn't sensed him, hadn't felt the warm air move around him. She toyed with her hair, loosening it from its bun and letting it fall over her shoulders as she glanced repeatedly between the greenhouse and the main house. As he stepped even closer, he began to realize what she was up to, why she and Adel sneaked off here to the greenhouse. She was going to tell Adel about what she spied. Adel, the family telegraph. His timing was perfect.

  He paused within striking distance as Alice reached up to fix her hair into a loose ponytail. Then, as soon as she lowered her arms, He swung the rock at her head.

  Alice's head snapped to the side and she stumbled forward. She fell to her knees and raised her hand to her head before staggering back up, knocking over a garden bench before struggling to her feet and turning.

  Clayton closed the gap and raised the stone for a finishing blow. Alice's wide eyes fell on him and he knew she was going to scream. He swung hard to silence her, but was caught off guard. Because, instead of screaming, the redhead set her jaw and ducked the blow. She charged into him head first and gut-punched him.

  Clayton dropped the stone as he blew out the contents of his lungs with a loud "Oof!"

  Alice righted herself, her hands cocked in some martial arts attack posture. Clayton narrowed his eyes at her and saw that she was struggling to remain conscious, She kept blinking and wincing as she tried to focus on him in the dimly lit garden.

  He prepared himself for another at
tack as she spun, intending to throw her heel into his soft belly. But her movements were too slow. She couldn't hold her momentum, didn't have the strength to charge her muscles and the kick—stopped by the long skirt Adeline dressed her in—only sent her spinning into his arms.

  Clayton reared back and swung as she tumbled forward, catching her on the jaw and sending her sprawling to the cobblestones.

  "Bitch," he swore under his breath.

  The pitched battle only lasted a few seconds, but Clayton stood over Alice's unconscious form breathing heavily as though he'd just gone three rounds with a heavyweight. He looked around for the stone, but didn't see it. He'd have to move quickly to dispose of her.

  Holding off on the killing blow until he got her out of the open, Clayton crouched and rolled Alice onto her back. He rested a hand on her chest and felt the rise and fall, felt the thudding heart beneath, then he cupped one of her breasts and gave it a hard squeeze to make sure she was fully unconscious. He stood and took her by the ankles.

  Glancing over his shoulder to set his path toward the greenhouse, he dragged the unconscious Property backwards until he found the door. Alice continued breathing but made no sound as her dress rode up underneath her, exposing her long legs, and smudged stockings where she skinned her knees on the fall.

  Once inside, Clayton dropped her legs and rushed to the greenhouse door. He looked outside, holding his breath for a moment to make sure no one approached, then he turned back to his victim. "How dare you set prey upon this family, upon me!" he growled at her. He glanced around for a weapon to finish her off, letting his eyes skip over garden shears, clippers, pikes, and iron trowels. His anger and blood lust were reaching an apex, but he still held his senses enough to know spattered blood would lead to questions. He had to find something blunt. Then he would dump her in the forest behind the gardens and dispose of her corpse later.

  Clayton grew breathless, anxious. He knew time was against him. He repeatedly glanced down to Alice's form, his eyes lingering on the soft line of her neck, then down to the muscular curves of her exposed legs and Adel's stockings that glowed in the green-lit dim of the glass house. He found himself wondering if she had lured Bryce into bed, if that's how she got here, if that's how she poisoned his mind against him.

  Clayton chewed his lower lip, momentarily forgetting the blunt weapon he sought and crouched to lift Alice off the dirty floor. He turned her around and dumped her body, face first, over the low narrow potting bench, draping her like a giant rag doll.

  "I'll show you what Property is good for," he growled through gritted teeth. Pulling off his jacket and vest, he stepped up behind her, pressing himself against her rump to hold her steady, he used his legs to spread hers, then he unhooked his suspenders.

  Alice started to wake. She groaned, a low, weak sound.

  Clayton dug his clawed fingers into the back of her dress and ripped it open, tearing it down the middle. Then he hooked his fingers on the back of the bunched skirt and started to wrestle it up and over her hips. Clayton hooked his fingers around the skirt of the dress and tore it across her waist. Then he tugged it down over her backside, pulling her underthings with it.

  Then the heat in his head, his heart and hands, his anger and ferocity all drained, replaced by the ice of terror. There on Alice's skin, above the gentle swell of her rear on the left side....

  The mark of the Holy Trinity.

  The clang echoed in the greenhouse as the shovel whacked against the back of Clayton's head. His body tumbled to the side.

  Alice groaned louder and tried to push herself up and off the potting bench. Small but strong hands gripped her arms and lifted her to her feet, then wrestled her clothes into place. "Easy now. Easy. You're all right." Alice turned, blinking, dazed. She gasped when she saw Clayton splayed out on the stone floor of the greenhouse and backed away. She bumped into someone who took her by the arms and repeated. "You're all right. I got him before he could do anything."

  She turned to come face to face with Lydia McFerran. Her jaw fell open, but the Lady quickly silenced her with a gesture. "Listen to me," Lydia pleaded, her eyes wide and filled with understanding and compassion Alice didn't think was possible coming from someone who, until now, had been so calculatingly cold and selfish. Alice's eyes widened but remained unfocused as she reached around herself, attempting to wrestle Adeline's torn dress back into place. Her head felt like hot mush. Lydia shook her gently.

  "Alice... Alice, listen to me."

  Alice blinked again, her vision clearing more as she squirmed and pulled free of Lydia's grasp. "No... You....Him...."

  "Alice," Lydia repeated, more forcefully. Then she bent over and lifted her dress to expose something strapped to her right calf. The Derringer was small and glinted silver-white in the gloom of the greenhouse as Lydia pulled it from its tiny holster and pointed it at her.

  Alice raised her hands and backed away, almost tripping over Clayton as she moved toward the door.

  Then Lydia pointed the gun down to Clayton's face. "Go."

  Alice stopped and lowered her hands. She looked at him questioningly.

  Lydia repeated. "Go!"

  "What are you—?"

  Lydia raised her chin defiantly. "I saved you from a fate worse than death, then death itself, now you'll do as I say. Go. Go, and get as far away from this house as you can."

  "B-But Bryce—"

  Lydia cocked the tiny pistol and stepped up to Clayton's unconscious form. She crouched over him and pushed the tiny twin barrels of the Derringer between his teeth. "I shant repeat myself, young Alice, and know that I am pinning this on you."

  So much for compassionate understanding. Alice's eyes widened as she backed against the greenhouse door. "On me? But he—"

  "Find your way north. Go as far away from here as you can and do not look back!"

  "Lydia—"

  "GO!"

  Alice scrambled for the door knob with one hand as she reached pleadingly toward Lydia with the other. "I'm g-going, but don't— I—"

  Lydia McFerran screamed. She drew a deep breath and cried out loud enough to rattle every pane in the greenhouse.

  As Alice sprinted to the iron gate at the back of the garden, and the night-shrouded forest beyond, two gunshots snapped in the enclosure behind her. Tears burned her eyes and poured down her cheeks. "No... No..."

  A scream followed the shots, then Lydia McFerran yelling, "Help! Help! She's killed Clayton!"

  CHAPTER 23, “Tarnished Wings”

  I remembered running. Running and crying.

  My head pounded, my body ached. I ran with my hands clutched to my chest trying to hold Addy's dress together as I felt the cool late-summer night chill my bare back. The sound of the gunshots that killed Clayton Landry echoed in my mind with the twisted memory of Lydia McFerran saying she was going to pin his murder on me, then telling me to run. Then her screams.

  Tears burned my face as the cool but humid night pushed down on me, tried to trip me and put me to sleep. But I knew whatever Clayton had done to knock me out would result in a concussion. If I stopped to rest now and closed my eyes, I'd probably be dead.

  All I could think about was Addy and Bryce and Mother Landry. They were the only lifelines I had in this twisted reality and I needed them now more than ever. But I couldn't circle back to the house. Even if the things Addy said were true about Bryce and Lydia, I couldn't trust it. I knew, even as my head throbbed like a thickening gunmetal cloud filling with rain, that Lydia would win over Jefferson Landry and the man would kill me on the spot. Lydia would hold me down while he put the bullets in my brain to match the ones she'd given Clayton. And Bryce and Mother Landry and—oh dear, poor little Savannah—would all be too shocked, crushed and ruined by the sudden murder of their brother
and son to do anything but let Jefferson exact his vengeance. Lydia has been a part of their family. I'm an alien from another time and place. They wouldn't believe me. Not ever.

  I cried and groaned and whimpered. I covered my face and screamed into my hands. I staggered from side to side in the darkened forest, moving, constantly moving, tripping over branches and stumps, scratching my arms and face and legs in thick brush and brambles as I grew more and more dizzy. I tried to calm myself, to take deep long breaths of oxygen, to blink hard and shake my throbbing head.

  I knew in my heart that I'd never see Bryce, or Addy or the Landrys, ever again. And I had to wonder if I really cared deep in my soul. I started to have feelings here, feelings for Bryce if only on the surface, but I had to force them from my mind, concentrate on getting far away, then try to find out who I really was and how I got here.

  I don't know how far I managed to get before I simply couldn't move any more. My legs became rubber. The long pleated dress had snagged and torn so much it hung on me like a mini skirt made of tatters. The sleeves were torn from the dress and all that was left of the bodice was a ragged cloth that I held against my breasts. My hair hung loose and damp around my head. My right ear rang so loud I could barely hear and I had to work hard to blink my right eye. I grew dizzy, then nauseous. I threw up as I staggered through some high grass. I wasn't a doctor but I knew Clayton's blow had hurt me badly.

  Still, I trudged on. I followed the river well past where Bryce and I rode Sergeant. I cried, longing for the memory, wishing I had never seen Clayton and Lydia in the greenhouse, wishing Bryce had never taken me to his home.

  Bryce.

  I never looked back. High overhead, I saw a glowing light streak by. I imagined it was a SkyTrain, the way it trailed sparks high up in the atmosphere. I had seen a few other high-flying blimps, and the odd bi-plane, but nothing on the ground, not even when I found some railroad tracks stretching north and south.

  Though I was more than half naked, bruised and bleeding—The side of my head was numb and wet to the touch—I turned north along the tracks and headed toward the distant city lights of Shreveport.