Strong Mystery: Murder, Mystery and Magic Books 1-3 (Steampunk Magica)

by Raven Bond

  “It is all my fault,” she whispered gloomily.

  “What? How do you see that,” Owen turned his attention from scanning the nearby rooftops to the young woman beside him.

  “If my blessing as you call it, had not gotten away from me, we might be eating dessert at Jimmy’s restaurant, and making peace with him,” she snarled.

  “Do not fancy yourself,” Owen said dryly. “First of all, Jimmy was trying his best to provoke a fight. Do you honestly think that that oaf Huang would do anything without Jimmy’s say so? Second, did it really feel to you that you lost control?”

  “Well,” she said hesitantly, “that was what was confusing. It did not feel as if I had lost control.”

  ‘Exactly,” Owen said. “Keep in mind that you were not the only fire caller at that table”

  They had reached the old factory that served as home to the gang safely. The look outs waved Mike and the others inside. As they reached the threshold Mary grabbed Owen’s arm.

  “Then I am not at fault? That is such a relief, thank you!”

  Owen places his hand over Mary’s in a gesture of reassurance, whatever he was going to say however was interrupted by Mike stopping dead in front of them.

  “Who the hell are you?” Mike demanded. Owen peered around his shoulder to see who he was talking to. He saw Jinhao in her black adept clothes, sword scabbards hung over the back of the western style chairs at the mess table. Across from her sat Mei. Both of them were bending their elbows with drinking bowls, and appeared to have become fast friends.

  “Oh, hello Jinhao,” Owen said calmly.

  Chapter 15

  “Well, now I can see why I haven’t heard from you. Mary is indeed a fine figure of a woman. Hardly seems like your sort, but that is as may be.” Jinhao looked at Owen with an arched eyebrow. After Mike had been appeased about Jinhao’s appearance, the two had stolen to off to Owen’s room to talk.

  “It is not like that at all,” retorted a flustered Owen. “I am Mary’s teacher.” Jinhao smiled at that.

  “Oh, I am certain that you are a most excellent teacher,” Jinhao said blandly.

  “Now see here Jinhao,” Owen proclaimed, “It is no laughing matter! Mary is an untrained fire caller, and therefore a danger to herself and others.” Owen rapped his cane on the factory floor. “Besides, there is the very real danger that there will be a gang war that Mikes’ lot will lose on the morrow. That means that your little drinking friend there, as well as everyone in this building will be either dead or in the grip of a sadist named ‘Jimmy the Horse’. Not to mention that I seem to have picked up a European Sorcerer assassin and his brute of a giant pet.” Owen told her of Findley and the encounter at the dock with Mr. Victor and Mr. Percy.

  “Ah yes, I believe that I have met the gentleman although not his pet as you call him.” Jinhao said.

  “What,” Owen exclaimed. “How did that come about?” Jinhao relayed all that had befallen her since she went looking for Owen.

  “He seems to believe that you are dead, but still seems to be looking for your body,” Jinhao concluded. Owen nodded thoughtfully at that.

  “Yes,” he muttered around a frown. “He is probably looking to take my head back as proof of his success. Very traditional and very expensive. The custom started as a way to be sure that the target could not be re-animated against the hirer you know. That indicates very deep pockets indeed. Now, who among the old peerage could I have pissed off that much I wonder?”

  “Wait,” Jinhao said curiously. “You mean that among your people even after you kill an enemy, that enemy may still attack you on behalf of another enemy who uses Sorcery?”

  “Necromancy actually. It requires someone who has mastered the element of Spirit. They then have to be willing to subvert that element. It usually ends badly for the operator with them using up their own life force. Ironic really when most Necromancers are searching for eternal life in the body,” Owen explained. “That is why there are so few Necromancers left. We rather frown on that sort of thing in Britain nowadays. Our run in with Renton, shows how few and far between they have become. His activities were not even recognized as such. Still, the custom persists.”

  “I do not like your people at all sometimes,” Jinhao said.

  “Neither do I,” Owen replied. He looked at Jinhao with a pained look on his face. “Speaking of which, why do these urchins insist on using the most prosaic English names that they can find, rather than what I am certain are perfectly fine Han names?”

  “Because they sound exotic and fashionable,” She shrugged with indifference. “They appear to be names of power and strength.” She looked at him. “Surely you are not comparing the fashions of Han street thugs to raising the dead.”

  “I am simply pointing out that every people have distasteful customs,” Owen replied wryly. He frowned. “No, it appears that this Victor shall have to give up the name of his employer, which means that we shall have to capture him alive.”

  “Difficult when he wants to behead you,” Jinhao observed.

  “Yes, there is that,” Owen allowed. “But it cannot be helped. If I kill him first, then his employer simply sends another assassin. One that I might not catch in time.”

  “Let me help,” Jinhao said.

  “You already have,” Owen replied. “Truly Jinhao, I wish that you would go be safe somewhere. A sorcerous assassin can be a very deadly thing. ”

  “I knew it!” The Adept accused. “You are hiding out here out of some noble but misbegotten sense that I need protecting!”

  “Well, not as such you know,” Owen protested. “I honestly thought that you would still be dealing with that business with your sister. It is just that you are no Sorcerer. I am sure that the old life-debt thing that you keep quoting does not apply to hired Magian-killers”

  “Owen,” Jinhao looked at him with great patience. “It does apply. When will you recognize that we are stronger together than apart?” Seeing the beginnings of protest on his face she pressed on. “When we looked into the case of the missing fishermen, who killed the beast?”

  “You did,” Owen said.

  “And when we were investigating the case of the curious clockworks man who found the key?” Jinhao asked.

  “You did,” Owen answered lamely.

  “Speaking of Renton, who killed him when his re-animated monsters were attacking us?”

  “You again,” Owen said with a sigh. “See here Jinhao, you have made your point. No need to belabor it.” Owen looked down at the ground for a long time. Finally, he raised his head, grinning at her ruefully. “Besides I really did miss you, you know.”

  “And I you,” she said softly. “But no more toughing it out alone, do you hear?”

  “Right,” Owen agreed with something of his usual cheer. “I should have known that turning that Demon that was trying to kill you was a mistake,” he quipped, referring to their first meeting at an inn outside of Hong Kong.

  “I did know that it was a mistake,” Jinhao said with a bland face. “I decided to let you rescue me anyway.” She held out her hand. “I believe that one usually shakes hands when agreeing on a partnership.”

  “Quite,” Owen responded cheerily. “To us!” He took her hand in his own. Jinhao nodded firmly as she squeezed it back.

  “Now that that is done,” she said shortly. “What is our next move to catch this Victor?” Owen shook his head.

  “We have to first save the gang from this oncoming war,” he asserted.

  “Why?’ Jinhao asked bluntly. “They nursed you back to health with their own advantage in mind. Why help them?”

  “Because if we do not,” Owen said seriously, “All of them will either be slaughtered or pressed into prostitute cribs.”

  “Why not simply kill this Jimmy the Horse, and be done with them then?”

  “Have I mentioned that I have missed you?” Owen smiled at her. “Your approach is delightfully direct and refreshing. I am afraid that in this instance though, i
t will not serve. Another gang will come along when we are not about. If we can get these two groups to work together they should be able to hold off any other group that wishes to cause them trouble. Besides,” he said forcefully, “it is not right that these women have no prospects of bettering themselves simply because they were tossed aside at birth.”

  “Why Owen,” Jinhao remarked. “You may become a reformer after all!”

  “Hush, evil wench!” Owen replied sternly. “I am in danger of no such thing,” He looked up at the ceiling while stroking his chin with free hand. He looked back down at Jinhao. “I simply hate to see waste. Besides it is an interesting problem for the mind to get the two sides to come together in peace.”

  “Oh, I see,” Jinhao said evenly. “It is purely an intellectual exercise then.”

  “Quite,” Owen said. “I am glad you understand.”

  Jinhao refrained speaking more on the subject. She couldn’t help but reflect though that her Grandfather would never have shown such concern for a group of non-caste women outlaws.

  “Well I suppose that we should see about getting some sleep then,” she said, attempting to be practical. Discovering that Owen was alive and well brought a lightness to her heart that she would never admit to the Englishman. She could barely admit it to herself. She glanced over at the blankets crumpled in a pile on the hard floor. “I see that they provide only the finest of sleeping accommodations,” she remarked.

  “It is a bit rough,” Owen allowed. “I could say that you get used to it, but that would not be true.” He moved towards the door. “I will see about getting some more blankets, shall I?”

  “This shall work quite nicely for me I think.” Jinhao placed her sword harness against the pillar. She began rearranging the blankets to her satisfaction. She looked up at him, “Do you really intend for us to stay with these people and avert their petty dispute?”

  “Yes,” Owen replied seriously. “I do. With their aid after that, we may perhaps come up with a plan to capture friend Victor.”

  Jinhao settled herself against the pillar with a blanket for a pillow between it and her. She smiled at him. “Well then I wish you luck in finding more blankets!”

  Owen looked back at her crossly and went out the door. He returned shortly with two of the girls carrying large bundles of blankets and pillows. Owen thanked them both and began arranging the additional blankets to his own satisfaction. Then he then laid down, placing his cane within easy reach. Owen settled a pillow against his own pillar and smiled. With a wave of his hand the oil lamp that had been providing them with illumination went out.

  “It seems that they managed to find some pillows as well,” he observed innocently in the darkness.

  “They look nice,” Jinhao allowed from her nest of blankets.

  “Of course, I would never dream of disturbing your no-doubt comfortable arrangement,” He vowed to her.

  “Oh, of course,” Jinhao replied. “I shall simply lie here and dream of feather beds.” After a pause, Owen spoke again.

  “Jinhao,” He said softly.

  “Yes?” She responded. One word came back to her from the darkness.

  “Catch.”

  She brought up one arm and caught a pillow that came towards her. She placed it between her head and the pillar. She smiled into the friendly dark.

  “Jinhao,” Owens voice came from the darkness.

  “Good night, Owen,” she said sleepily. Best to stop him before he becomes uncomfortably sentimental, she thought.

  “Ah, good night, Jinhao,” came the reply.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jinhao came awake quickly when the door was kicked in. Rolling off to the right of the pillar that served as her pillow, she was up on one knee with her throwing spikes at the ready before the splinters of the door hit the floor. Fortunately for their intruder Owen was also quick. He used his trick of heating an opponent’s weapon to disarm a raging Mike. Jinhao held her hand.

  “Mike,” Owen exclaimed. “What the Horned One are you about?” He stood there cane in one hand.

  “Where is she,” Mike snarled, “What have you done with Mary?” He was bent over holding his gun hand in agony, an air pistol at his feet.

  “Mary?” Owen echoed. “What makes you think I have done anything with Mary?”

  “She is not in her room,” Mike came upright glaring at Owen. “If you have seduced her, you will pay for it, Quizi Sorcerer or no!”

  “I have done no such thing,” Owen protested. He reached for his trousers, cane still held on Mike like a gun. “She should know better than to go out walking or some such nonsense. We must find her!”

  At that moment, little Mei who stood as the leader of the look outs appeared in the doorway. “Mike,” she said to him grimly. “A messenger from Jimmy the Hand has come. You will want to speak with him.”

  “Put him in the mess room,” Mike ordered. “Mary is missing and we must find her.”

  “It’s about Mary that he has come,” Mei said unhappily. “You will wish to see him,” she repeated.

  “What?” Mike said. “What can he know about Mary?”

  “He claims that Jimmy the Horse is holding Mary for killing someone named Huang,”

  Chapter 16

  Jimmy the Horse had clearly pulled out all the stops to greet his gang rival. The street approach to the restaurant where they had met the night before was lined with very visibly armed and angry members of Jimmy’s gang. Owen doubted that there was much intention on Jimmy’s part to let them leave alive after the meeting. Not that they had much choice about agreeing to it. The messenger had been quite clear that Jimmy intended to kill Mary out of hand in retribution for killing the young man Huang if they didn’t attend.

  Owen cast a covert glance up to the rooftop line. Jinhao was still unknown to Jimmy, and was their ace in the hole so to speak. He chided himself silently for looking up. If he could see her, she wouldn’t be Jinhao. Owen refocused on the restaurant entrance, the double red doors flanked by scowling sword-wielding youths. Wordlessly they pulled open the doors just far enough to allow Mike and Owen to slip inside. The other members of Mikes gang that had followed them were barred from entering, their grumbles silenced by a single sharp word from Mike. The women stood fingering their makeshift maces and butchers knives with bloody intent but otherwise remained quiet.

  As Owens eyes adjusted first to the gloom of the reception area, he quickly grabbed Mike by the elbow.

  “Show no reaction,” Owen breathed into the gang leaders’ ear. “Stay right here and do not move.”

  The gloom was suddenly pierced by the ignition of twin torches. The sudden light showed Jimmy wearing a Western suit of dark red, air pistol holstered at his waist. Behind him was Mary, tied to a pillar with ropes, a crude gag about her mouth.

  “So,” Jimmy snarled, “You had the guts to come after all.” He gestured behind him. “I guess that your pet assassin must mean something to you after all. I thought that you would refuse after the way you sent a woman to do your killing for you.”

  “I do not know what you are talking about,” Mike said levelly. “Mary is no killer, nor did I send her here. Last I knew we were going to meet today to discuss peace.”

  “Peace, eh?” Jimmy grunted. “Then why send your fire doxy here to kill me? I’m sure that Huang must have caught her creeping in here, which must have led to her frying him.”

  “Nonsense,” Owen rapped out. “That is as likely as my being able to sprout wings and fly!” One of Jimmy’s henchmen pulled a pistol, swaggering towards Owen while waving the gun in his face.

  “Shut your trap old man,” he growled. “That innocent act does not make it here!”

  “Jo, wait,” Jimmy ordered. He looked at Owen. “Go on.”

  “I believe that we should hear from Mary what happened.” Owen nodded at the bound woman.

  “Ain’t nothing she can tell,” Jo snapped. “We all heard Huang screaming for his life in the banquet room. By the time we made it d
ownstairs, he was dead. Burnt live. She was standing over him.” Mary struggled with her bounds, trying to speak. Owen appealed to Jimmy.

  “If you really want justice for Huang,” he said. “You should allow Mary to speak.” Jimmy frowned at this. Finally he nodded.

  “All right,” he said. “Jo did the right thing though so as that she couldn’t use her voice to bewitch anyone. Boys, be ready to shoot either her or the Britisher.”

  Owen grimaced at Jimmy’s rank superstition. Despite it being the 1800’s People still thought that somehow using one’s voice was important in using Magia that gave someone control over another, a superstition that was not true. Still, folk legend dies hard. Owen approached Mary carefully and slowly as the boys had drawn pistols from somewhere, all of them pointed at Mary, Mike or himself.

  Freed from the crude gag, which was nothing more than a piece of cloth shoved in her mouth, Mary whimpered, trying to speak around a dry mouth. Owen carefully patted her face, speaking in soothing tones as he might to a distressed dove.

  “There Mary,” he intoned, “It shall be alright. Mike and I are here.” Raising his voice, he spoke to the room in general. “May we have a glass of water here please?” At Jimmy the Horse’s nod, one of the boy put up his weapon and fetched some water in a wooden bowl. Mike seized it and muscled Owen aside to press it to her lips. After gulping thirstily for a few moments, she shook her head to indicate that she’d had enough. Owen pushed back against Mike so that Mary was looking at him again.

  “Better?” Mary nodded wordlessly. “Good. Now can you tell us what happened?” She nodded again and wet her lips to speak.

  “I am so, so sorry Mike, Owen. I know that I shouldn’t have but when the note came I couldn’t say no to it!”

  “Shh,” Mike hushed, “there is no need for apologies.”

  “What Mike says is true Mary,” Owen said gently, but in a voice that said he would not be turned away from his course. “Start at the beginning and tell us everything in order. Leave nothing out, no matter how insignificant it may seem. Can you do that?” The bound woman nodded once and began speaking.