A Clockwork Heart

by Liesel Schwarz

  “Don’t you see?” Mrs. Hinges said.

  “Not really,” Loisa shook her head.

  “The young man set out to find a cure for his lady. Because if she were well, there would be no objection to them marrying. He went out of a night and never came home. Just like our dear Lord Greychester.”

  “Are you sure?” Elle said.

  “As sure as I stand here. Disappeared into thin air along with his father’s valet. Set the whole house on its head.”

  Elle sat back in her seat and thought it over for a little while.

  “Mrs. Hinges, thank you for taking the trouble, but you really will catch your death if you go running about like that,” the professor said. He looked most concerned.

  “Oh, don’t be silly, professor. I am made from sturdy stuff.”

  That set off a debate between the professor and Mrs. Hinges, which had been raging even longer than the one he had been having with Elle. Amid the discussion, Elle and Loisa escaped from the drawing room and went upstairs to ready themselves for the resumption of their search. It was still early, but it being February, the sun had gone down and it was pitch dark outside. Perfect conditions for Nightwalkers.

  “Look at you!” Elle said when her friend joined her a few minutes later. Loisa was dressed from head to toe in black. She wore a pair of fitted black leather trousers—the type favored by the cowboys of the Wild West—knee-high boots, and a wool jumper over a fine lacy blouse.

  “I absolutely ruined my favorite dress last night with all that mud so I thought I would take a leaf from your book, my dearest,” Loisa said as she pulled on a black leather coat that fell to just below her knees. “Do you like it?”

  “I think it’s fantastic,” Elle said. “So much more practical than skirts. But where on earth did you get all these clothes?”

  “Ah, well, some of these things I brought with me.” She gestured at her leather coat, which did indeed look very Transylvanian. “And I sent someone out to the dressmaker I retain here. She is used to strange requests,” Loisa gave her a little suggestive smile and donned a finely fitted top hat with a delicate lace veil onto her curls to complete the ensemble.

  Elle held up her hands. “Fair enough. And maybe tonight, we won’t be stalked because we are women.”

  Loisa laughed. “I think we should go and visit Jasper, just to see the look on his face. I think his society might positively die if they found out who you are,” she said with a wicked gleam in her eye.

  Caruthers coughed discreetly. “Your cab has arrived, ma’am.”

  And so, suitably wrapped up against the biting cold, Elle and Loisa set off into the darkness.

  The steam cab stopped just outside the arches of Leadenhall Market. “This is as far as I go, ladies,” said the driver. “There are too many strange things that go bump in the night these days and a man can’t be too careful. No offence, madam,” he said nodding toward Loisa.

  “That’s fine, but please wait for us here. There will be an extra fare in it for you if you do,” Elle said.

  “Will do,” said the cabby, although Elle was not so sure he would be a man of his word.

  Elle and Loisa started walking toward Aldgate. Even though it was still early, the streets were eerily quiet. The only noise and light they saw spilled from the pubs that squatted along the street.

  “We had better head for the water. That’s my guess,” Elle said as they walked down Fenchurch Street. Around them, church bells tolled ominously in the mist.

  “There is something ill in the air. I can taste it,” Loisa said.

  “I feel it too, it’s making my skin crawl,” Elle said. She had the eerie feeling that they were not alone.

  “Let’s go east, toward the Tower,” Elle whispered. They walked on, boots echoing against the damp cobbles.

  It was Loisa who heard them first. She stopped and put her hand onto Elle’s arm, turning her head just a fraction to catch the faint sound of ticking, like a watch buried deep within a pocket.

  “This way,” Elle whispered. Without making a sound, the two women stepped into the shadow of a doorway.

  The sound of ticking increased, now accompanied by a soft scuffling and scraping. Elle held her breath as she watched the small cluster of undead lope past them. None of them looked right or left. Instead, they seemed utterly intent on reaching whatever destination they were seeking.

  “Phew! That was close,” a man spoke from the other side of the alleyway.

  “Who’s there?” Loisa leaned forward and peered into the shadows.

  There was a slight movement as Jasper Sidgwick stepped out of the shadows.

  “Mr. Sidgwick!” Elle said. “You nearly gave us a heart attack.”

  “Good evening, ladies. I knew you would find them. And what a sight they were!” He strolled up to them, beaming from ear to ear. “There are a few of us dotted about the area, searching, but none of us have ever managed to get so close. Did you hear that ticking?”

  Elle and Loisa stared at Mr. Sidgwick.

  “I am so glad I bumped into you,” He bowed politely. “Perhaps now you might honor me with the particulars of your names?”

  “Eleanor Marsh. How do you do.” Elle took Mr. Sidgwick’s hand and shook it firmly. “This is my dear friend, the Baroness Loisa Belododia. She is visiting from the Continent.”

  “Delighted to meet you. But please, call me Jasper.” He took Loisa’s hand and bowed over it most gallantly as the Nightwalker looked on in bemusement.

  “So, what do we do next? Those tickers seemed quite determined to go that way,” Elle said.

  “Well, I’m not sure to be honest,” Jasper said. “We normally only wait for them to pass. Observe statistics like numbers and group size, male or female and such things, and then go back to compare and compile the collected information. It’s more of an observation than a participation really.”

  “We need to get closer,” Elle said.

  “Oh, do say I can come with you?” Jasper said.

  “This could be extremely dangerous,” Elle warned.

  “Well, then you need a gentleman to escort you,” he said.

  Loisa rolled her eyes. “We are wasting time,” she said in a low voice.

  “Very well, but stay back and don’t get in the way,” Elle said to Jasper.

  They walked eastward through the eerie lanes, past the Tower of London and the entrance of the newly completed Tower Bridge, which straddled the Thames. The spark lights on the crossbeams of the bridge made the structure glow eerily in the night fog.

  “This is St. Katharine’s Dock,” Jasper whispered. Elle could hear the slight tinge of fear in his voice.

  Around them, the sad wood-fronted houses of the docklands slum huddled close to one another. A gust of wind rose up and swept though the gaps and chinks in the houses, damp and bitterly cold. It made the loose planks and sheets of corrugated iron rattle mournfully. The only warmth in this place was the flickering light of the spark lamps which the city had installed a few years before in an attempt to make the area safer. They now merely stood as a flickering silent testament to the failure of that endeavor.

  “Not the most agreeable of areas, I’ll grant you that,” Loisa murmured as she sidestepped a pile of soggy horse muck.

  In the distance they could hear water sloshing against the wharf and the mournful ting … ting … ting sound of rigging against boat masts. And below it all, just barely within the reach of normal human hearing, Elle felt the stoic rhythm of the ticking, like a pulse beating too hard for comfort.

  “They are close.” Elle felt a sudden surge of energy from her wedding band. It coursed through her and made her left hand tingle. Even here in the Realm of Light they were bound. “Over there,” she said pointing into the dark distance.

  Carefully they crept up to the edge of the little square that framed the docks.

  “Gosh, I’ve never been this close,” Jasper whispered when the sounds of grunts and shuffles over the sound of the ticking be
came audible.

  The fog parted slightly and they stared in amazement.

  Before them, huddled in a tight group under the light of a spark lamp, were about forty undead. Men and women with their clothes hanging grotesquely off their emaciated frames. They stood with their heads and arms at haphazard angles, like resting marionettes waiting for their puppeteer.

  And each one had a brass mask that covered the bottom half of their faces, clamped and tightly bolted over the jaw, as if to prevent them from biting and tearing at things. The muzzles were intended, it seemed, in much the same way as one would muzzle a vicious dog.

  But it was their eyes that were the worst: milky white and devoid of the iris, they stared blankly ahead of them even as they moved and stumbled about.

  To the side of the group of undead was a tall man. Like the others he was without a hat or coat. He stood perfectly still in the midst of the shuffling. His slightly-too-long dark hair hung in greasy streaks over his pale face. And when Elle spotted him, her heart lurched in her chest.

  Loisa turned to look, and uttered a small shocked cry.

  They had found Marsh.

  CHAPTER 18

  “If you go round the other side to distract them, I can move in and see if I can grab him,” Elle whispered.

  One or two of the undead grunted and moved at the sound of their whispers.

  “That’s one idea,” said Loisa.

  “Well, do you have a better one?”

  Loisa shrugged. “I suppose not.”

  “And take Jasper with you. If we lose one another, then let’s agree to meet where the cab is waiting in Leadenhall.”

  “Be careful,” Loisa whispered. “Jasper, come,” she said before she slipped away into the dark with the grace that only a Nightwalker could muster.

  Elle counted the long seconds as she waited for them to execute their distraction. While she waited, she kept her eyes firmly trained on Marsh. He had not moved since she had first spotted him in the crowd.

  Above them, the skies opened up and a fine spray of freezing cold sleet started falling. The drops of ice stung the skin and soaked into clothes with its merciless cold.

  Elle said a silent prayer to whoever might be listening and held her breath. Surely Loisa would have come up with something by now?

  In the distance, a loud crash and the sound of glass breaking broke the silence. A flame flickered in the dark and Jasper stepped forward, banging loudly on a piece of corrugated iron roofing, which he held before him like the shield of some Medieval Templar.

  “Oi! Here! Come and get me you ticking bastards!” He shouted and banged on the metal.

  Elle smiled with surprise. She did not think gentle Jasper would be capable of using such peppery language.

  The undead turned, transfixed by the noise and light. The collective rhythm of their ticking became faster and slowly the group started shuffling toward Jasper. Elle had no doubt that Loisa was lurking somewhere in the shadows, ready to pounce.

  Then she spotted her chance. In the shuffle, Marsh had fallen to the back of the group. Elle sprinted up to him as fast as she could and grabbed the back of his coat. She spun him round and looked into his blank eyes.

  “We need to leave this place. I need to take you home,” she said to him.

  He did not respond. There was not even the slightest flicker of recognition in his eyes. Gently she tugged his arm for him to follow her, but he did not move.

  “Oh, what have they done to you?” she whispered, close to despair.

  She dragged at his arm, but all he did was lean into the movement as if he had suddenly become rooted to the spot.

  Elle closed her eyes in frustration. The other creatures had moved off about ten paces now and all it would take was for one to look back at her for Loisa and Jasper to be in serious trouble. They may be muzzled, but they were still capable of carrying her off to wherever it was that they went. And that was not a place she wanted to be.

  “Damn it, Marsh, move!” she hissed.

  He turned his face toward her and a slight crinkle in his brow made it look like he was trying to understand, but it was like trying to move a fully grown oak tree.

  “Stop!” A man shouted off in the distance.

  Elle felt her heart sink as two burly men stepped into the light of one of the street lamps.

  “Oh bugger,” Elle swore. The undead were not alone. Instead, they were accompanied by four or five large guards.

  “Stop where you are or I’ll shoot,” the man said again. Elle caught sight of a large and dangerous-looking shotgun, which one of the men raised and pointed at her.

  “And stop that racket!” Another man said. He started walking toward Jasper, but Loisa leapt out and grabbed him by the throat. In seconds, her Nightwalker grip had him out stone cold. Despite her delicate appearance, Loisa was very old and very strong.

  Jasper’s shouting and banging was becoming more frantic as the undead advanced upon him. It wouldn’t be long before he would have to abandon his post.

  She heard the sickening sound of metal upon metal as the guard cocked the shotgun.

  “Jasper, run!” she shouted as the first shot rang out, but missed.

  The sound had made the undead turn and stumble in the direction of the gunfire. Elle pulled out her Colt and briefly considered returning fire, but she would be shooting in the general direction of Jasper and Loisa, which was not good. No, escape and evade was the sensible way forward here and she was suddenly deeply grateful for the rain and fog. In sheer desperation, Elle reached into the barrier and felt for the filament that bound her to Marsh. She stood, left hand up to her elbows in the Shadow Realm, and pulled with all her might.

  Marsh moved. He stumbled a few paces and grunted.

  She took his hand and held it in hers. To her astonishment, she felt the tingle of the bond trickle down her arm, over her wrist and into him.

  “Now walk,” she said as she pulled him toward her.

  Marsh grunted and moved a few more steps before faltering.

  Another shot rang out and the spark light above them went out in a spray of broken glass.

  Elle tugged at Marsh again, willing him to break with whatever was keeping him rooted to the ground. He shuffled forward again.

  “Good. Now a few paces more, my darling,” she said, trying to not let her desperation show.

  The other guard suddenly cried out in surprise and Elle prayed that it was Loisa that was behind it.

  Marsh stumbled a few more paces toward her.

  “That’s right, keep going,” she coaxed.

  “Round them up, I’ll go after the girl,” a third man said.

  She could hear footsteps in the dark and the sound of shuffling as they rounded up the other undead charges. Whoever survived Loisa’s attack would be upon her within a matter of seconds.

  Just then, Loisa leapt out of the dark, hissing like a very large, very dangerous cat. The guard cried out in surprise as Loisa pounced upon him.

  Elle had no time to lose. She took a deep breath and dragged at Marsh with all her strength. “Move! Damn you, Marsh. Move!” she said between gritted teeth.

  He grunted and suddenly Elle felt a surge of energy. It crashed over them, enveloping them like a tidal wave. For a few moments, they stood in the space between the realms of Shadow and Light. The light contorted and wisps of gray and black moved all around them like light under water. Marsh threw back his head and groaned as if he was in terrible pain and gave a few shuffling steps in her direction before stumbling after her. With all her strength, Elle dragged Marsh into a timber-covered alleyway.

  The shotgun rang out again and she heard Loisa squeal in pain. She heard the sickening sound of flesh and bone hitting cobbles. “Please let Loisa and Jasper be safe,” she prayed.

  “After them! They went that way.” She heard one of the men shout.

  “Walk, just a few steps,” she said to Marsh who was still dutifully holding her hand. He made a small shuffling motion, obe
ying her command.

  “Yes, my darling, that’s right, one step at a time,” she said.

  Above her thunder rumbled and clouds dark as soot boiled in the sky. Elle shuddered again as she felt the wave of energy ripple through the air, every bit as foreign and horrible as it had been in the Shadow Realm. Who—or what—had chased her the day before was now most definitely on its way here too.

  She took another few steps and this time it was easier for Marsh to follow. Elle tucked herself under Marsh’s armpit and held his arm over her chest. Her touch seemed to galvanize him into moving more and he leaned against her as they shuffled on ahead.

  Elle did her best to ignore the cold edge of the muzzle that covered his jaw was pressing in her hair. She had lost her hat somewhere back in the dark, but that did not matter right now. Together she and Marsh walked a little further until they were outside the docks.

  By this stage, Elle was panting with stress and exertion. Hot-slick sweat coursed down her body, wetting her clothes from the inside and chilling her even further. But she could not stop, because the only way for them now was forward.

  Gently, she nudged Marsh along until they were standing in a mucky side street lined with more clapboard houses.

  “All right, big husband, we’ve managed to give those oafs the slip for the moment. Now let’s see if we can get you home,” she said in a tone that was as jovial and optimistic as she could manage. To her relief, he started moving after her in a gentle shuffle. And so they set off thought the narrow alleys that led away from the docks.

  Behind her, she could hear the sound of footsteps, but Elle did not need to look back to know that they were being followed.

  The Tower of London loomed up in the dark to her left. Its battlements looked like the broken teeth in the jaw of some ugly beast. She briefly considered the possibility of hiding inside in order to escape the guards and the undead on her heels, but the doors would be locked at this time of night. She had no option but to run.

  Marsh grunted and failed his free arm in acknowledgment of their pursuers.

  “Hush now. Don’t look,” she said to him.

  He dropped his arm and shuffled along obediently.