A Clockwork Heart

by Liesel Schwarz

  “Is someone there?” Jasper turned his face to one side as if he was listening for something. “We ask that the spirit who has come forward, please make itself known to us,” he murmured.

  “We ask this,” the others murmured.

  There was a brief, breathless moment where it felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. All the candles went out and they were plunged into darkness.

  More than one of the ladies present let out a little cry of surprise.

  “Maintain the circle please,” Jasper warned. Elle felt her fingers go numb as the woman next to her gripped her hand with fervor.

  Elle sighed. Please spirits of the oracle, not now. I really don’t want to have to explain myself to these good people, she prayed silently.

  “I am getting a name!” Jasper said in the dark. “Vivienne!”

  Elle sat up straight. Vivienne was the name of her late mother. Her mother had been the Oracle before her, but she had died when Elle had been very young.

  “Vivienne. Thank you for joining us,” the others murmured.

  “She says that her daughter is here. Is there a daughter of a Vivienne present?” Jasper asked.

  “Yes,” Elle mumbled, hoping that no one would recognize her voice in the dark.

  “What would you like to say to your daughter, Vivienne?” Jasper asked. “Use me as your vessel to communicate. You are in a circle of safety here.”

  Suddenly, Jasper’s voice changed. It became higher, more feminine. The voice sounded high and strained, as if the speaker were in distress and fighting to make herself heard. “My darling, I don’t have a lot of time. The others don’t know I am here and I cannot fight the banishment placed upon us for very long,” the voice said.

  Elle felt a lump rise in her throat. These words were touching that painful part of her childhood she did not readily share with others.

  “I want you to know that I am terribly proud of you. And I am so very sorry that I cannot be there to guide you. This path of ours is not the easy path, but the rewards will be infinite.” Jasper’s voice echoed in the darkness.

  “What do we need to do to find him, Vivienne?” Loisa said.

  Elle poked her friend with the toe of her boot to try and shut her up.

  “Look for the Lady in White. She has the answers. He can be saved …” Jasper’s voice trailed off.

  “Where is she?” Loisa said.

  “She is near water. Always near water. Follow the storms. And beware of the shadows. Don’t go into the garden alone at night.”

  “But where is the garden,” Loisa said again, but the ghost ignored her.

  “Eleanor, you need us. You must unbanish us. Please!”

  “Mother!” Elle blurted out, but the voice was gone.

  The others in the room started muttering and shifting around. Clearly this was a momentous event for them, but Elle had had enough. She let go of Loisa’s hand and the hand of the woman next to her and went over to the wall. With deft fingers she felt around in the dark until she found a box of matches. She struck one and set it to the wick of one of the candles. The room suddenly filled with flickering candlelight, obliterating the séance.

  Jasper blinked. “The spirit has left,” he muttered.

  “Perhaps it was for the best,” Elle said.

  The others stared at Elle in amazement “But why did you come to this meeting if you did not want to communicate with the dead?” one man asked. Elle did not answer. The last thing she wanted to do right now was to confront the memories of her mother in front of all these strangers. And yet, the aching longing she had lived with for all her life felt somehow less. Her own mother—the one who was Oracle before her—had taken the trouble to reach out to her across the void.

  “Jasper, may we have a word? In private please,” Elle said.

  Jasper turned to his fellow society members. “Ladies and gentlemen, the spirit who spoke was most powerful and I fear that she has taken it out of me somewhat. Shall we adjourn until next week when we can compare notes and thoughts on this evening’s meeting?”

  Others murmured in agreement. “Drinks upstairs in ten minutes,” one of the men suggested.

  “Very well, then. Till next week. I am looking forward to reading everyone’s findings on what has been a most exceptional meeting.” He spread his arms and herded everyone out of the cellar with a little more speed than courtesy.

  “Well then, ladies. How may I be of assistance?” he said to Elle and Loisa once everyone else had left the cellar. “Better come with me to the back where we can speak in a little more privacy.”

  He gestured to an old velvet curtain that separated a part of the cellar from the rest. Behind the curtain was what looked like an office and a storeroom. There was a table overflowing with all manner of books and scrolls. And on the shelves behind it, boxes of candles and other divination paraphernalia sat where they had been shoved in a somewhat haphazard fashion. Mr. Sidgwick was clearly not a meticulous man.

  “This is where our little club keeps the things we need for our rituals. Sorry for the mess, we don’t normally allow people back here,” Jasper said apologetically. He lifted his robes from his shoulders and bundled them up.

  Elle looked at one of the open books on the table. It was a book on alchemical runes and formulae. She shuddered and looked away from the concentric circles. Alchemy was her least favorite subject.

  Jasper ran his hand over the patch at the back of his head that was already balding. “Our society is not devoted to just one discipline. We are scientists and we use this place to study all forms of the occult,” he explained with a touch of pride. “We also engage is all manner of occult practices. Fortune telling, communicating with the dead, mesmerism. In fact, I am currently posturing the theory that the channeling of power comes via an independent source. A cornerstone, if you may, and I am working on a way to access that power. Just think of how wonderful we could make the world if we could harness both halves of the divide. Just think of all we could achieve if we had access to infinite energy.”

  “But isn’t that inordinately dangerous? You could throw the whole world into anarchy if you get it wrong.” Elle gave Loisa an anguished look. She was not about to tell Jasper that she was the way that all that power could be accessed. “Knowledge of such things usually comes at a price, Jasper. The question is whether you are prepared to pay that price,” Elle added.

  Loisa laughed. “Nonsense. I think Jasper proved without a doubt that he is most fearless in the face of adversity.”

  Jasper blushed. “It was nothing. I am very pleased to have been able to get so close to the creatures. But tell me, how is the one that you caught?”

  “He is fine. Resting at home,” Elle said.

  “You should bring it to a meeting. I am sure all our members would love to see it up close.”

  Elle felt Loisa grip her elbow, warning her not to say anything.

  “Jasper, we were wondering if you could help us with a little with our experiments?” Loisa said tactfully.

  “Of course. All you need do is ask.”

  “Do you have anything in your collection of works on the subject of necromancy?”

  Jasper thought for a moment before his face lit up. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that sooner? It makes perfect sense.”

  “But necromancers are so very rare. I thought they had all been exterminated,” Loisa said.

  “Ah, even you don’t know everything, my dear immortal lady,” Jasper said. “My studies have suggested that necromancy is simply a technique. Any of the magically adept can turn to the dark arts of the dead. It’s just a case of learning how.”

  “So a witch or a warlock or anyone with the Shadow in their blood could be a necromancer?” Elle asked. “Do they learn their craft like the alchemists do?”

  Jasper nodded. “Little is known about them, I would have thought some sort of apprenticeship would be the way.”

  “If I were a necromancer, where would I hide if I ca
me to London?” Elle wondered.

  Jasper let out a puff of air as he contemplated the question. “Impossible to say. I suppose it depends on the necromancer. If they draw their power from the elements, then water would go to water. Fire to fire and so on. Specific Shadow creatures have different predilections for certain environments. Or so the theory goes.” He fussed around the table and pulled out an illustrated chart. It was filled with Cabbalic symbols. “See here. Mermaids and kelpies like water. Nightwalkers cannot abide daylight, so they favor the night. The various fairies favor whatever plant or stone they were born of. But there are myriad sources of power. The sea, lightning, volcanoes. They could be anywhere.”

  “Lightning,” Elle said. She looked at Loisa.

  “Actually, I have a book about necromancy. My cousin Aleister briefly explored the darker reaches of power a few years ago when he was at Oxford. He let me borrow some of his books, but I forgot to return them. He is in Paris at the moment, so I’m sure he won’t mind if you took a look.”

  “That would be extremely helpful,” Elle said.

  “Very well.” Jasper”s face lit up at the prospect. “Why don’t you come round to me tomorrow evening? I shall arrange for some tea and a cold supper and we can discuss the matter in more detail. You have the address?”

  “Yes, I will be able to find your rooms again,” Loisa said.

  Jasper smiled. “Splendid. I am entirely at your service,” he beamed.

  “Thank you, Jasper. We will call shortly after sunset,” Elle said.

  As they turned to go, Jasper called to Loisa. “Um, Baroness, may I have a word in private,” he said.

  “I’ll see you at the car,” Elle said as she carefully stepped round the Delphic circle.

  The Stanley was thankfully untouched when Elle returned to it. She waited outside the motor until Loisa returned. “What on earth was that all about?” she asked her friend.

  Loisa shrugged. “Jasper has asked if I would consider turning him to the nightside.”

  Elle shuddered. “Really. Why would someone deliberately want that?”

  “The power. The allure of immortality. Who can say? I suspect that he has been so helpful because he was looking for an opportunity to ask me.”

  “And what will you do?” Elle asked.

  Loisa shrugged. “He is far too young for the burdens that those of us who walk the night must bear. I told him that we should be friends for a few years yet. And if he still wishes to make the transition, then I shall help him.”

  “Fair enough. Let’s see what he comes up with tomorrow night,” Elle said.

  “My thoughts exactly. It takes a long time before one can truly know the depths of someone’s character. Turning to the nightside is not a decision made lightly.”

  Elle sighed as she got into the motor and started up the engine. “Loisa, I’m cold and tired. Perhaps she should go home for tonight.”

  Loisa did not make any move to get into the car.

  “Well, come on, then,” Elle said. “The weather is not getting any better.”

  “You go home and get some rest. I am going to take my leave from you for a little while. Making the journey here was extremely taxing. I have spent far more time in daylight than I should have.”

  “Oh Loisa, you should have said something!” Elle said.

  The Nightwalker shook her head. “Your excellent dinners have sustained me, but I need a little bit more to build up my strength. So I think I will take a short walk through the West End before I return home.”

  “Are you sure? I could wait for you,” Elle said.

  Loisa gave her a wicked smile. “My dear, you forget that I am a very old, very strong Nightwalker. I am quite accustomed to looking after myself. It is the people of London you should be worried about.”

  Elle frowned. “Surely, you are not going to grab the first poor fool you find in the street are you?”

  Loisa threw her head back and laughed. “What do you think I am? No, I know of a lovely little crypt not far from here where people go to make … donations. It’s all perfectly legal.”

  “At least let me send someone to collect you when you are finished.”

  Loisa tutted. “Don’t worry about me. I will see you tomorrow.” And with those words, she whooshed off into the night.

  CHAPTER 22

  Clothilde threw her hands in the air and howled in frustration. “What do you mean he got away?” she stormed.

  Emilian hung his head. “The minders lost him on one of their training walks, mistress.”

  “And who told you to let him out? I thought I made it clear that the tall one was special. He was to stay within these walls at all times.” Dark clouds roiled in the sky above Battersea and great purple flashes of lightning crackled between the high towers of the monastery as her temper raged.

  “I’m sorry, mistress, but the monks opened the cages for the minders last night. I didn’t see that they let him out until he was gone.”

  “And whose responsibility is it to supervise these stupid little men?”

  Emilian bowed. “Mine, mistress,” he said.

  “So it is your fault and more so for trying to blame your underlings. That’s very poor, Emilian. I am deeply disappointed in you.”

  “I am sorry, mistress.” He kept his eyes trained on the ground as he spoke, but even now he exuded an air of subversive arrogance that she found deeply annoying. As if she could not see through his feigned subservience.

  “Did they even see where he went?” she seethed.

  “He was with the group that went out hunting for recruits near the Tower Bridge docks. The minders say they were ambushed. People waiting in the shadows as if they were expected. There was a woman and a Nightwalker. I’m not sure if I believe them, but Vargo says that the women stole him and ran off.”

  “How is that possible?” she said. “Do you honestly think I am that stupid? All my walkers are spellbound. They cannot be separated from the herd unless I will it.”

  “I know, mistress. Vargo must have made a mistake.”

  “Well, go and find out what really happened!” she shouted.

  “Yes, mistress.” Emilian tipped his hat and made to leave, seemingly grateful for the opportunity to escape.

  “And Emilian,” she said as he reached the door. “I want him back undamaged. Whatever it takes. Don’t make me regret saving that little sister of yours.”

  Emilian turned and glared at Clothilde. His dark eyes blazed with anger. “You leave my sister alone,” he said through gritted teeth. “We may work for you and call you mistress, but know this, La Dame Blanche, we are no one’s slaves.”

  “Enough of this insolence, you miserable little cockroach!” Clothilde screeched. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned the power of the storm above her and flung Emilian from her chambers into the hallway. He landed on the hard floor with a satisfying thump. As a final touch, she made the door slam behind him for effect.

  She turned and stalked to the large bank of windows behind her. From this room she could see London as it sprawled out before her, shrouded in the purple storm clouds that followed her everywhere she went.

  She sighed and rubbed her forehead. That Emilian had given her such a headache. Sometimes the temptation to turn the insolent man and his sister to dust was almost too much to resist. But she needed them for the moment. As a trueborn son of the travelling people, he was immune to her powers and charms and it was most necessary that she had someone she could rely on, but whom she did not affect.

  Clothilde glared out into the driving rain. Her beautiful warlock was gone. And it was all due to the utter incompetence of the electromancers in her charge. It was yet again time to meter out some much needed discipline.

  One of the electromancers knocked softly on the door.

  “What is it?” she snapped.

  “It’s time for the feeding, mistress,” he whispered. “You said to call when it was time.”

  “I’ll be there in a moment.”


  The little monk bowed his head and retreated.

  “You!” She pointed at the monk.

  The little man froze.

  “Tell me … who was the monk in charge of letting our soldiers out of their cages last night?”

  “I–I”m not sure, ma’am,” he muttered.

  “Well, can you find out?” she said, her voice suddenly silky with menace.

  “I surely can, ma’am.”

  “Well then, do so. And bring him to me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Clothilde donned her white robes and strode along the gallery to the control room where she could conduct tonight’s feeding. As she passed them by, electromancers bowed and retreated into the shadows and long narrow passageways that made up the galleries.

  The monastery was built in a large rectangle with a chimney on each point. Each chimney reached high up into the sky and was designed to collect the lightning the electromancers needed to make spark. In the middle of the complex was a cavernous glass-covered courtyard, which the electromancers called the spark turbine hall. It was in this hall that the electromancers channeled the static electricity that they fed into the turbines, where it was mixed with the magic they drew from the Shadow. Once combined, the bright blue spark was fed into massive holding tanks. Some was pumped into glass cylinders and tanks to be sent off to power airships and all manner of steam-powered machines. The rest was piped along the network into the city where it was used for light, heating and the grinding machines that made the city run.

  Clothilde gave a small smile of satisfaction as she climbed the square staircase that led up to the control room. Despite her misgivings, the Consortium could not have chosen a better place to set up a factory. Here she had all she needed to bring their plans to fruition.

  But the monastery was so large that it was almost impossible to police on one’s own. Especially since she was surrounded by such weakness and incompetence. However, she had to admit that the little men worked hard once motivated, and apart from a few newspaper headlines proclaiming shortages, they did manage to produce enough spark to stop anyone from noticing what was really going on under their very noses. And she liked that.