A Clockwork Heart

by Liesel Schwarz

  Elle stood very still, biting the insides of her cheeks as she did her best to control the emotions that were storming through her. “No. I am not going to allow that. Lord Greychester is still a person, regardless of what you might think. And he is still my husband. He is not to leave this house so he can be poked and prodded by strangers.” Everyone seemed to be regarding her husband as if he were some oddity that needed to be gawped at like an animal in a zoo or a circus performer.

  She looked down at her hands. Her left ring finger felt numb and had turned a deathly white color, just above the metal band. When she moved her fingers her hand ached with a strange dullness.

  “My lady, there simply is no other way to establish whether we can remove the device. We have no option but to do more invasive investigations and those simply cannot be done except within the controlled environment of a hospital. He will be perfectly safe, I’m sure,” the doctor said

  “I said no!” Elle’s tone was a bit too loud and the doctor’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “I say,” he muttered “I am only trying to help, you know.”

  Elle took a deep breath. “Dr. Miller, I’m very sorry but it has been a most unhappy event. Whatever happened to my husband, it was metaphysical. There are strange forces at work here that have nothing to do with modern medicine. And I will not let Lord Greychester out of this house until I have more answers.”

  “Perhaps we might continue this discussion when you have rested a little,” the doctor said kindly. “Would you like me to give you a sedative?”

  “No thank you. My mind is quite firmly made up. I will not have you and your colleagues poking and prodding my husband like he is some freakish medical phenomenon. I will not.”

  “Of course, my lady. I meant no offense,” the doctor said.

  “Now, tell me about that mechanism in his chest.” Elle pointed at the opening in Marsh’s shirt that the doctor had been examining. It looked like someone had taken a large apple corer to the center of Marsh’s chest. And there, slightly to the left, exactly where his heart should be, an oblong brass mechanism had been inserted. It had a small glass dome and inside, Elle could see what looked like a mechanical heart. The cogs and gears of the device whirred and moved in simulation of a human heartbeat.

  The doctor rubbed his chin. “Well, yes. It is quite something, isn’t it? As far as I can tell, it looks as if his heart has been removed and replaced by this clockwork device. And without it, or his heart, in place there is no demonstrable way to keep him alive.”

  “And taking the machine out and putting his heart back? Is that possible?”

  Dr. Miller shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. See how the skin around the device has been cauterized.” He pointed at the puckered, graying skin adjacent to the device. “In my considered opinion, unless the heart has somehow been preserved, there would have been a definite deterioration of the heart tissue, making it impossible to be restored. I mean, we don’t even know where the heart is.”

  “But if they did preserve it, do you think you could put it back?” Elle said.

  “That sort of surgery is beyond my expertise. I could ask my colleagues who specialize in surgical procedures, but I suspect it’s most unlikely.”

  “And the undead-like state? Is that linked to the device?”

  “I would have thought so. But how much of the actual person remains is very hard to say. From the looks of things, not much.”

  “But he will remain alive as long as the device keeps ticking?”

  The doctor looked at Elle seriously. “In a manner of speaking. If you define his current state as not dead, then I suppose you could call whatever he is alive.”

  “He is alive in there, I can feel it,” Elle said, undeterred by the doctor’s pessimism.

  The doctor took her hand. “My lady, I’m afraid that your husband’s very survival depends on the faultless operation of that device. And I am very concerned about the fact that there is a keyhole in the center of it.”

  “Yes, I noticed that too,” the professor said, looking up from his toolbox. “If that heart works like any other clockwork device I know, then he will need winding. And that can only be done by whoever currently has the key.”

  Elle chewed her lip, which felt flaky and dry under her tongue. “How long do you think he has before time runs out?” she asked.

  The doctor sighed. “There is simply no way of knowing. What do you think, professor?”

  The professor scratched his head. “Judging by the size and dimensions of the heart, measured against standard clocks with winding mechanisms of that size, I would say about a week.”

  “So we have about a week to find the solution,” Elle said.

  “In theory, yes,” the doctor said. “But I am completely stumped. This type of medical procedure is beyond anything I have ever encountered and I honestly cannot guarantee that we will be able to put things to rights.”

  “Well then, gentlemen, it seems that I have one week to find the key to my husband’s heart,” Elle said. She folded her arms with grim determination. “We had best get on with it then.”

  CHAPTER 20

  “Such a tragedy. My poor Hugh,” Loisa mused as she sipped her tea. They were sitting by the fire in the small drawing room after dinner.

  Marsh was sleeping in the cot they had set up for him in the library next door. After the visit by the doctor, the professor had managed to modify the muzzle by fitting a release latch. They could at least now open and close it in order to feed him, if they were very careful.

  Marsh had, true to Loisas recommendations, consumed almost two pounds of raw liver once they had brought him under control. Elle was grateful that she did not have to witness him feeding because it was, by all accounts, a rather grim event.

  Mrs. Hinges had looked tired and drawn when Elle had found her in the kitchens earlier that evening. The strain of looking after a Nightwalker and a master who was hovering between the living and the dead was starting to show.

  And outside, the rain whooshed against the windowpanes with relentless monotony. A storm had rolled in during the late afternoon, complete with more thunder and lightning. It was truly the type of dark and stormy night so favored by writers of melodramatic prose.

  Elle looked up from the evening paper and set down the magnifying glass she had been using to examine one of the photographs on the page. The headline that had drawn her attention read: MYSTERIOUS TICKING MONSTERS SIGHTED IN HYDE PARK.

  “We found him near the docks, so let’s see if we can pick up a trail from there. Enough people have seen these Tickers to make it into the evening papers. Surely someone would have seen which direction they went.”

  “In this weather?” Loisa looked at the windows. “We’d be lucky not to lose ourselves out there, let alone find some unknown enemy.”

  Elle sighed. “Loisa, I can’t just sit here and do nothing. Every minute we sit here is a minute wasted.” She felt her breath catch in her chest. “At the very least, we need to find the key that winds up that thing in his chest. Surely they must go somewhere when the sun comes up? And I’m willing to bet that we will find the keys and the answers to this mystery there.”

  Loisa nodded slowly. “This seems to me to be the work of a necromancer.”

  “Conjuring of the dead.” Elle nodded gravely. “That seems logical, but how does this help us?”

  Loisa shrugged. “At least we have an idea of what we are searching for. But finding a necromancer’s lair is easier said than done. And even if we did find it, how would we go about approaching it? It’s not like we will be invited for tea and cakes upon our arrival, no?”

  “I don’t care,” Elle said. “I am not going to let him die, Loisa. I will not.”

  Loisa’s expression softened. “None of us want him to die. I know you love him, my darling. But we need to be clever about this. Taking on a necromancer is not something one attempts lightly. Personally, I don’t mind so much. I have less to lose than you do. Bu
t you might well end up as one of these ticking things. And that is not something we can afford, Madame Oracle.”

  Elle looked up at the ceiling in frustration. “And somehow we always end up back at the infernal business of being the Oracle. Some days I wish I could just tear down the barrier that separates the two realms and be done with it.”

  Loisa smiled. “And so would all the Shadow creatures, but we both know that this is not something that can be. Too much chaos. And you will have the blood on your hands of all those who will die. But while we are speaking of it, how fares the great divide?”

  Elle stared out the window into the darkness. “The barrier is fine. I have sensed a few odd wobbles lately, but nothing too serious.”

  “Odd wobbles?”

  “I don’t know. Like someone was prodding the barrier. Sometimes people or creatures attempt to cross and mostly the effect is the same as running headfirst into a large, very firmly set jelly pudding. Whoever tries it, simply bounces back. I feel the impact because I am the force that holds it all together. But these wobbles were different though. They felt a bit like someone was pushing into the folds—as I can do.”

  The two pretty pink spots on Loisa’s pale cheeks faded. “Do you think there is another oracle?”

  “I doubt it. The Council of Warlocks would have found her by now. Trust me: nothing would make them happier than to find someone else to fill that position.” Elle gave a cynical laugh “I would have been swiftly relieved of my duties by now if there was someone else.”

  “Perhaps someone who would be capable of assuming the powers of the Oracle?”

  Elle shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. But I very much doubt it.”

  “True. I know of nothing written that suggests that other creatures of Shadow or Light for that matter could break the barrier. But still.”

  Elle sat forward. “Do you think a necromancer could?”

  Loisa shrugged. “I am not a scholar. My knowledge is very limited, but I don’t see how.”

  “Perhaps we might go and see someone who could help,” Elle said. “Do you know any occult scholars who might know?”

  Loisa sat back and thought for a while. “We could try one of the sectarians, but they have their spies and I’m not so sure that we want the Council of Warlocks to know about Hugh. Who knows what they might do if they found out.”

  Elle shivered. As usual Loisa had hit the nail squarely on the head. Marsh was her only protection against the nefarious plans the Council had for her. These included, among other things, a scheme to lock her up in a cave while they drained power through her until she died. If they knew Marsh was indisposed, or dead for that matter, they might decide to take action. And that would be a very bad thing indeed.

  “You are right, Loisa. That is a bad idea.”

  “Hold on a moment.” Loisa gave her a sly smile. “What about our new friend, Jasper Sidgwick?”

  “Do you think we can trust him?” Elle felt her excitement grow.

  Loisa shrugged. “I don’t know. But he is a hopelessly ineffectual occultist with a magnificent collection of books. I had the pleasure of listening to him recount the catalogue all the way from Leadenhall to his house yesterday.”

  “And you think he might have something?”

  “Undoubtedly. And yet he seems to know nothing of the Council. It is quite extraordinary that someone so educated could be so ignorant.” She sat forward, suddenly enthusiastic. “Perhaps we should pay him a call. He did after all invite us to one of his meetings.”

  “I think that is exactly what we should do,” Elle said. She stood up and straightened her skirts. “I think, my dear Baroness, that we should go and change into our night visiting clothes. Immediately.”

  Half an hour later, the Stanley, steam powered automobile that was Lord Greychester’s pride and joy, trundled off, buffeted by the strong wing and icy rain. Elle drove and Loisa navigated. This was perhaps not the most efficient system, given that the Nightwalker did not know London all that well, but she was an even worse driver so it was the best they could do. At least Loisa could see in the dark and so they managed all right. The trees waved and shuddered in the wind as they made their way through Green Park and down the Mall.

  “Good thing we have the car,” Elle said over the noise of the engine and the storm. “Horses would have been impossible on a night like this.”

  “I think you are right,” Loisa said, as she held onto her top hat to stop it from blowing off. They were both wearing goggles to keep the wind and rain out of their eyes.

  “The tavern is below the Savoy Hotel. I have stayed at the Savoy on countless occasions and I never thought to look in on it. Just to the left,” Loisa said.

  Elle turned the steering and they trundled down the Strand toward the hotel. Apart from the odd hurrying straggler, the streets were empty. It was strange to see the streets of London so quiet and deserted.

  “See if you can find somewhere close by for us to park,” Elle said. Finding parking in the West End was always a veritable nightmare, even at this time of night.

  Fortunately, Loisa spotted a folly of plane trees near the Embankment gardens. Elle cast a wary eye over the Stanley as she pulled up underneath them. Curse Marsh for his vanity. The white paintwork and chromed rivets gleamed even in this bad light. Could the man not have chosen a black automobile like every other normal person? Elle hoped against hope that the motor would not be too conspicuous and that it would be safe and unharmed when they got back.

  “The pub. It’s this way.” Loisa dragged Elle by the arm up the little hill behind the Savoy Hotel. They stopped outside a door with a heavy brass knocker that looked like the head of a wolf under the flickering streetlights.

  “This must be it.” Loisa lifted the knocker and banged on the door six times.

  A small peephole opened and someone on the other side studied them.

  “The wolf howls not only when the moon is full,” Loisa drawled. “Jasper told me the password last night,” she explained.

  The peephole closed and Elle heard the bolts slide open.

  A man dressed in shirtsleeves let them in. His gaze flickered over Elle’s leather coat and jodhpurs for a moment, but he said nothing. Elle shook the water off her sleeves and took off her aviator cap and goggles. They had done a remarkable job in keeping her hair dry.

  “State your business,” the man grunted.

  Surreptitiously, Elle clenched her elbow to her side. Her revolver was sitting safely in its corset holster, ready for action.

  “Is Jasper Sidgwick here this evening?” Loisa inquired.

  The doorman huffed. “Downstairs. You’ll find him in the cellar. You’re late.”

  “Thank you.” Loisa gave him one of her alluring smiles, but it seemed to have no effect on the doorman. He did, however, shuffle aside to let them pass.

  They climbed a set of narrow stairs that led down to what Elle assumed to be the cellar. Above her, she noted the heavy black beams that made up the floor the pub above them. The sound of punters talking over the noise of the piano sifted down through the boards.

  “Sounds like a jolly establishment,” Elle said.

  They reached a set of black doors, ornately decorated with all kinds of esoteric symbols. Inside was the low hum of voices singing a solemn hymn. The sound of the occultists’ voices was out of tune with the jolly celebrations that were going on upstairs.

  Loisa lifted the latch and pushed it open. “Jasper! Are you here?” she called out in her deep musical voice. “Just play along and for heaven’s sake, don’t do anything magical that might give us away,” she whispered to Elle as they entered the cellar.

  Elle gave her a sardonic smile. Attending an occultist meeting was just about the last thing she wanted to do, but if needs must then they certainly must.

  CHAPTER 21

  The singing stopped rather abruptly when they entered the cellar. Elle and Loisa turned to face a congregation of about eight people all sitting on benches in a
circle.

  Jasper was standing in the middle of the room dressed in rather fetching velvet robes of emerald green. His jovial round face lit up when he saw them. “Ladies! Welcome to our humble society,” he beamed.

  There was a murmur of agreement from the others in the room. The inside of the cellar was lit by a multitude of candles wedged into every crevice and sconce. Large stalactites of wax hung from the walls and candelabras. The cellar looked like it hailed from the days before spark had replaced coal, the fine dust had stained the walls pitch black. Even Elle had to admit that it was the perfect place to hold occult meetings.

  “Jasper! Thank you for inviting us,” Loisa cooed.

  “Sorry we’re late. Terrible weather,” Elle said in an attempt to be polite. She stepped forward and immediately hesitated, balancing her weight on the toes. The tips of her boots were on the edge of a Delphic circle, inlaid entirely in a black and white pattern. She grabbed Loisa’s arm and looked at the floor.

  “Careful,” Loisa murmured as she steered Elle around the edge with her supernatural strength.

  “This is certainly a surprise. You are most welcome,” Jasper said. “Do sit down. We have just started.” He gestured for them to sit on the benches.

  He resumed his position in the center of the room and the singing resumed.

  Elle rolled her eyes as she mumbled along in tune to the music, hoping against hope that this would be over quickly, for she could feel time ticking away for Marsh with every beat of her heart.

  “All right then, everyone. If you could please join hands, we will begin with our séance,” Jasper said.

  Elle and Loisa joined hands with the other eight people in the room.

  “We call on the spirits of the departed to cross the divide between living and dead,” Jasper said, rather dramatically.

  “We call on the spirits,” the others murmured.

  Elle bit her lip. She had her very own set of ghosts who spoke to her on regular occasions. And judging by their recent persistent silence, she was sure they were none too pleased with her imposing a ban on them at the moment. Elle just hoped they wouldn’t do something embarrassing or too revealing, but judging by the potency of the séance she was witnessing, Jasper would be lucky if he managed to conjured up the spirit of a dead mouse, let alone a former oracle.