The Iron Fin

by Anne Renwick

  Almost.

  Her uncle had refused to reveal the full treatment for the caeruleus amoeba. Though his infected leg wound was forcibly submerged in cold saline water and subjected to deep debridement, the organism continued to spread, engulfing his lower leg and creeping proximally up his thigh. Treatment options were under debate when Mr. Black arrived and ordered a swift and conclusive amputation, followed by immediate dirigible evacuation. The former navy commodore was delivered directly to a secure underground cell where he would recover. Or not.

  Though Mr. Black’s frown carved deep lines about his mouth when he caught sight of his brother’s knee, Alec refused to accompany him on the dirigible, insisting he would remain with his BURR team while they piloted the captured megalodon submersible back to Glasgow. All Finn‌—‌patients and family‌—‌elected to reboard the submersible for a return trip rather than set foot in a dirigible’s gondola. Including Aron, who insisted he would not survive a dirigible ride in his current condition.

  Isa worried for him. Not only had he lost a lot of blood, the octopus’s attempt to wrench free had done some serious tissue damage. Alec too was in agony, his lips white with pain. By the time they reached Glasgow, the drug he’d injected had long since lost its effectiveness. Their care had taken immediate priority upon docking on the River Clyde.

  She’d left the organization and care of the Finn in the hands of Avra, who had proven to be a remarkable young woman. “Go,” Avra had said, waving her off. “I’m quite capable of arranging for their transport back to the islands.”

  Shrugging away the guilt that tried to wrap itself about her shoulders, she’d followed a grim Dr. Morgan who‌—‌after a long-suffering sigh‌—‌took Alec into surgery immediately. “Before you do any more damage to the bone vasculature. At this point, you’ll be lucky to keep your leg.”

  Worry churned a hole in her stomach as she paced outside the operating room for hours. From time to time, a nurse or an orderly would zip in and out of the surgical suite‌—‌muttering about nerve blocks and bolts and gears‌—‌while Dr. Morgan rebuilt Alec’s knee.

  At last, success was declared, and Alec was wheeled into a recovery room.

  “He managed to snap a bolt, slip three gears and rupture two lubricant sacs,” Dr. Morgan announced. “I had to resect another inch of femur.” He fixed Isa with a stare. “Perhaps he’ll listen to you? Try to convince him that he ought to leave the BURR team before he loses a leg.”

  Sage advice. But who was she to order Alec about? Time and again she’d been told to abandon her dreams of medical school, yet she persisted. The BURR team meant everything to him, and he knew the risks of returning to active duty.

  Time passed and, as yet, neither she nor Alec had broached the topic of marriage. Nor had she caught sight of his grandmother’s pearl ring. Though their torrid affair had certainly continued apace. Her cheeks heated. Not that Alec had neglected to court her. They’d spent hours talking, speaking about anything and everything. Save their futures‌—‌separate or together.

  He’d sent flowers, escorted her on long walks quayside, visited with her mother‌—‌where flattery won him every regard‌—‌and spent time with the rest of her extended family along with many other members of the small Finn Glasgow community. Much heated debate surrounded the marriages of Mrs. Drummond, also known as Lady Roideach. Scottish law decreed her actions bigamous, but not all Finn people agreed. Regardless, Maren sat inside a cell, awaiting trial for her misdeeds. Mr. and Mrs. Carr had custody of Thomas and their granddaughter, with Nina and Jona’s supervision.

  For her own part, Isa had braved Alec’s mother’s disdain and accepted a grudgingly offered invitation to tea. Mrs. McCullough‌—‌her back stiff with disapproval‌—‌had offered a few comments about the weather. Conversation had been difficult until Cait introduced the topic of pharmacobotany.

  Heads bent together in the parlor, they’d sipped tea and discussed journal articles detailing recent discoveries of bioactive substances extracted from unusual plants found growing in the Amazonian rainforest, ones that scientists now struggled to fabricate in laboratories. One substance in particular held much promise. Added to the mix of substances already present in Finn anesthesia, it might completely eliminate the risk of induced dive reflex during surgical procedures. Alas, the compound was experimental and beyond her reach. Much, it seemed, like medical school.

  And marriage.

  Though it appeared Alec had finally reached a decision concerning his career. Yesterday, a skeet pigeon had landed on her windowsill, pecking at a pane of glass. She’d unfurled a message from him.

  You are cordially invited to attend a promotion ceremony. Tomorrow, I become Major McCullough. I’ll send a carriage for you at three o’clock in the afternoon. It’s a formal event. Still, please say you’ll come.

  Hence her formal attire.

  At exactly three o’clock, a familiar carriage drawn by clockwork horses stopped before her townhome. But it was Mr. Black, not Alec, who knocked at her door. She tried hard to suppress her disappointment.

  “I requested a few moments alone with you, Mrs. McQuiston,” he said, once they were settled and underway. He reached inside his coat and drew forth an envelope. “The Queen sends her regards.”

  With trembling fingers, she opened it. Drew forth the thick, heavy paper within. And read its contents. Mouth agape, she looked up. “You, Mr. Black, are a miracle worker.”

  “So it’s been said.” He grinned. “But I find myself compelled to mention that it was Alec who ensured your medical school application was brought to the attention of the Queen. Furthermore, because it was held against you in the past, my brother asked me to make it clear that the offer of enrollment stands, regardless of your marital state.”

  She nodded, her chest tight. This was a moment she’d rather hoped to share with Alec, not his brother. “Thank you.”

  Mr. Black sighed. “Don’t look so crestfallen, Mrs. McQuiston. I am but the squire, performing a few last official tasks so that your knight might present a final token of his regard.”

  Her eyebrows drew together and she peppered him with many questions, but Mr. Black refused to elaborate. Not even‌—‌after weaving their way through the busy streets of Glasgow‌—‌when the carriage stopped before a small building near the Glaister Institute. A single guard snapped to attention, and a fevered memory of passing through its door once before swam to the surface.

  Could this be an entrée to the famed Glaister Institute? A tremor of excitement ran through her. Dare she hope she was to be granted access? They descended a spiral staircase, arriving at a broad iron door. A red light glowed steadily in an odd box affixed to the multi-toothed and geared lock.

  “If you’ll place your finger there.” Mr. Black indicated a touch sensor.

  Heart pounding, she complied. A cool gel oozed out, as if the lock tasted her fingertip. There was a faint buzz of electricity, the light blinked green and the lock popped open.

  “First door on your left.”

  “Will you be at your brother’s ceremony?” she asked, beginning to wonder if she herself would be in attendance. All too easy to be lost and forgotten in a dusty corridor such as this.

  He laughed. “Not a chance. The Royal Navy would prefer to forget I exist. No worries,” he said when she frowned. “I prefer it that way. Alec and I have already toasted to his success.”

  With a clang, the door closed behind her. Turning about in amazement, she took in the narrow hall and the high ceilings where various conduits ran in all directions, some emitting steam, some dripping with condensation. Throughout the network of pipes and wires, spiders had spun cobwebs. This was not a heavily trafficked area.

  “I did make an effort to dust our laboratory.” Alec stood in a doorway, grinning. He was dressed in all his military splendor. Quite a different image than the one he’d first presented all those weeks ago out on the island.

  “Our laboratory?” She lifted an eyebrow,
walking closer. Drawing a fingertip across one of the many medals pinned to his chest. “Is this a tryst? Or has something unusual and unexplained turned up on a distant beach?”

  Grabbing her about the waist, Alec spun her around into an…‌ airshaft? “All of the above, though I’ve been told selkies are nothing but myth.” He kicked the door shut behind them and stared down at her. “I’ve an inclination to share my underground lair, if you’ll have me.”

  “Have you?” She bit her lip, fighting a smile. “In exactly what manner?”

  “You do look ravishing.” Grinning, he pulled her close. “But business first. Despite the trauma of earlier weeks, the ingenuity of the science behind the biomech octopus, the megalodon draws me. Interrogation of your uncle, Lady Roideach and Miss Russel has produced an Icelandic name‌—‌albeit an alias‌—‌of the evil genius who succeeded in fusing mechanical components with living organisms. The Queen’s agents are already at work tracking down this scientist. Meanwhile, I wish to study the techniques used to create these biomech creatures, to be involved in any decisions as to the wisdom of applying them.” He paused. “And there is the issue of my mechanical knee. Though I don’t wish to leave my BURR team, I can no longer actively participate in their missions.”

  She nodded, waiting.

  “A joint position both in the Glaister Institute and with my team has been arranged. I may occasionally deploy, but my involvement will be limited to oversight only. Leaving me more time for a wife and, eventually, a family.”

  “Children?” Worry tinged her voice.

  “In a few years. When we’re ready. As suits both our careers.” The corner of his mouth hitched up. “We’ll have plenty of time to work‌—‌and play‌—‌in this laboratory. Together. I’ve arranged for you to have full access to the resources of the Glaister Institute. If you wish to explore the possibilities of newly discovered pharmacobotanicals, we’ll fill out the paperwork‌—‌maybe lean a bit on my brother‌—‌until you have your way.”

  Isa tugged off a lace glove and pressed her palm to his freshly shaven face, enjoying the rare sensation. She grinned. “Have my way…‌”

  With a laugh, Alec lowered himself onto his good knee and tugged a familiar ring from his pocket. “I love you, Isa, and I don’t want to wait any longer. I’ve given you about as much time to reach a decision as I can bear. Please. Attend my promotion ceremony as my fiancée. Say you’ll marry me.”

  Emotions hit her like a tidal wave, strongest among them was love. Marriage wasn’t a risk she’d wanted to take again. Until she’d met Alec. With him at her side, she no longer felt hollow, empty of all but her goals. He offered her everything she’d ever wanted and more. Time to stop doubting herself and her feelings.

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’ll marry you…‌ according to the Finn tradition while standing barefoot on the sand.”

  He slid the ring onto her finger and stood. “Please tell me there’s no tradition of an extended engagement among the Finn?” He caught her by the waist as he stepped closer. Then closer still, backing her up until her rear bumped into a sturdy‌—‌if old‌—‌wooden desk that stood against the wall.

  Did they have time for investigating the thoughts that fueled the bright gleam in Alec’s eyes?

  “None.” She swallowed, dropping her gaze to the cravat tied so expertly about his neck. “It’s only a matter of gathering family and enlisting an elder to perform the ceremony.”

  “Excellent.” He caught her lips in long, tender kiss. “Now that our future is arranged, perhaps we might explore the benefits of matrimony? I am cleared for desk work.” He lifted her, depositing her on its surface and delving into the froth of ruffles about her ankles without waiting for her answer. He nipped at her earlobe. “And today’s ceremony isn’t for another hour.”

  She pushed half-heartedly at his beribboned chest as he spread her knees apart. “I spent half the morning primping. These are my only pair of silk stockings.”

  “Oh?” His fingers brushed upward over the surface of her thinly-clad legs until they found the bare skin of her thighs. He nuzzled at her neck, whispering into her ear, “And still you managed to overlook a certain undergarment. Am I meant to think that an accident?”

  Hooking her legs about his, she drew him close. “No.”

  “I promise not to ruffle a single feather.” Love shown is his eyes and echoed in her heart. “Trust me?”

  “I do.” With that she gave herself over to the sheer pleasure of his touch, and the outside world vanished, leaving only the love and heat that sparked to life whenever they were together.

  Epilogue

  BAREFOOT UPON THE SAND, her skirts whipping about her knees, Cait stood as a witness to her brother’s marriage, one of which she heartily approved. Not only was Isa beautiful, she was brilliant and unconventional and…‌ other. Unlike her, Isa was completely at home in her own skin. Cait had learned much about the Finn world these past weeks and, though this world wasn’t truly hers, the fact that such a people existed? That gave her hope.

  Her gaze drifted over the water. Too long she’d wondered about her own unusual origins. It was long past time she set about finding‌—‌demanding‌—‌answers.

  The couple stood in the surf as it surged, swirling and frothing about their ankles, staring into each other’s eyes, as if someone had slipped a love potion into their afternoon tea. An old woman‌—‌the Finn elder‌—‌cleared her throat and began the ceremony by joining the bride and groom’s hands together. She spoke in a strange, old language, one that was apparently rarely spoken, even among the Finn.

  “Beneath the moon, where the land meets the sea,” Nina spoke softly beside her, translating for her benefit, “we join together a daughter of the seal and,” the elder paused, adjusting for her brother’s Scottish heritage, “her chosen one.”

  Nicely done.

  A small girl stepped forward, lifting a crown that looked to be woven of dried seaweed and wildflowers. The woman placed it upon the bride’s head, chanting more words about the duality of a life lived both on land and in the sea.

  The bride’s mother looked proud, even if Cait’s mother looked somewhat pained. After all, years of matchmaking, of throwing Perfect Patsy in Alec’s path, had failed.

  Alec’s BURR team members were all present and in their element. Informal, wet and wind-swept suited them. Her brother Quinn had proved unreachable, but Logan was here. Barefoot and in his shirtsleeves, she was reminded of the boy he’d been when his gypsy mother had first dropped him off on their doorstep. Wild and carefree. A side of himself he’d long ago stuffed into a suit and tied off with a starched cravat.

  He caught her glance and frowned, shaking his head. But he’d promised. She’d done all he asked and more. Tipping her face upward, she let the wind whip the long, dark locks of her unbound hair about her face and smiled. She’d already accepted a position at Lister Laboratories in London where‌—‌despite her brothers‌—‌she would find adventure.

  ~~~~~

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  The Iron Fin

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  THE TIN ROSE

  A promise. A poison. A race to save a love balanced on the edge.

  On the night they were to elope, a spurned lover returned. A gift, she claimed. But the clockwork contraption unwound a poisonous bloom, sending Lady Emily and Luca, her gypsy lov
e, on a desperate race to reach the cure.

  Next up: the opening chapters of The Golden Spider

  The Golden Spider

  The Elemental Web Chronicles‌—‌Book One

  Anne Renwick

  Chapter One

  London, Fall 1884

  THE HONOR OF WORKING for the Queen as a spy was overrated.

  Crouched behind a burned-out steam carriage, Sebastian Talbot, the 5th Earl of Thornton, tapped on the acousticocept wrapped about his ear. The device should have worked up to a half-mile distance. He squinted through the gloom of the riverside fog. Hell, he could still see their agent. He just couldn’t hear him.

  “No signal,” he hissed to the man beside him. Would they ever manage to make this damn device work in the field?

  His partner, Mr. Black, frowned. “Same.”

  “Repairs.” Thornton pointed across the field of rusting scrap metal before them to a derelict water boiler just large enough to conceal both men in the dark of night. “There.” After years of working side by side, the two men could almost read each other’s minds.

  Black nodded and they ran forward, tracing a winding path through piles of discarded machinery in an attempt to melt into the odd shadows the metal cast. Their agent was no more than fifty feet away, but Thornton still couldn’t hear the conversation between Agent Smith and his informant. He threw Black a questioning look, but the man shook his head. Nothing.

  Thornton bit back a curse. They couldn’t approach Smith without blowing his cover.

  Black ripped the acousticocept from his ear and twisted its dials in vain trying to increase reception. The light continued to blink red. Either the agent’s artificial ear had failed or there was some fresh blunder with the receiver.