Enchanter's Embrace

by A R DeClerck

  Enchanter’s

  Embrace

  A Magical Steampunk Adventure

  AR DeClerck

  Published by AR DeClerck

  2016 Text Copyright © 2016 AR DeClerck

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Copyright © 2016 AR DeClerck

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Mr. Icarus Kane, Warden Alchemist of London

  The End of an Era

  A Mission of Utmost Importance

  Alabaster Acres

  Summer Ridge

  Vineyards and Romani

  Upon the Stair

  A Deathless Death

  The Mysterious Ninth Room

  The Door to Hell

  Consumed

  The Caroling of the Bells

  Sleigh Bells Ring

  What Lies Beneath

  All That Came Before

  Epilogue

  Sign up for AR DeClerck's Mailing List

  About the Author

  Mr. Icarus Kane, Warden Alchemist of London

  &

  Ms. Cora Mae Jenkins, Wizardess of London

  Cordially Invite You to Attend

  The Exchange of Vows

  5th September 1870

  Tower of London, London

  With Special Attendance by

  Her Majesty, The Queen Victoria

  The End of an Era

  “Will it ever be the same?”

  Archimedes smiled at the woman by his elbow. She stared across the ocean at the small dot of the ship sailing toward Scotland.

  “It’s only a honeymoon. They’ll be back.”

  “But will it be the same?” She turned to him and stepped into his waiting arms. Her heavy skirts brushed his legs as the fog settled over them. It was autumn in London, the breath of winter breathing down their necks in the icy wind that whipped across the docks. “They’re married now. That changes things.”

  “They were always married,” he assured her. “It’s only official now. For six long years I watched the two of them spar in a merry dance of do or don’t, and now that it’s over they will realize that it was always going to end this way.”

  She was quiet and he held her, her fingers tapping along to the ticking of his clockwork.

  “I have something for you,” he told her, breaking the silence by pulling a small box from his pocket. “A token of my admiration.”

  “Archie, you don’t have to buy me gifts.” Still, she reached for the box eagerly, gasping when he pulled back the lid to reveal the black and white cameo. “Oh, Archie! It’s so elegant.”

  He removed the necklace from the box and tied the black velvet ribbon around her slender neck. If he let his fingers linger a moment too long on the soft silk of her neck she never complained. Her fingers touched the cameo gently.

  “I want to give this to you as a token of my intention to court you properly.” He bent and pressed his lips to her cheek. “I will ask your father for permission, of course.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He laughed as her cheeks darkened with a blush. They had survived the claws of death together twice, coming together after so much terror and turmoil, and still she questioned his devotion. “Yes, dear Lucia. I am certain.”

  “The Apothecary House requires me to attend the Grand Adept, and in the absence of Icarus and Cora that means you’re in charge.” She tangled her fingers with his. She was not a delicate woman, he had learned that the hard way, but she was soft and every inch of her skin was like satin against his fingertips. After years of living with a woman like Cora Jenkins, he was well acquainted with strong women, but Lucia stirred every protective instinct in his body. More than that, he had to admit. She stirred every part of his body and filled his heart with a heavy warmth. “I’m to stay by your side as your personal Apothecary.”

  “How precipitous,” he mused, his fingers dancing in the long locks of heavy black hair at her shoulders. “Considering I had no intention of letting you get very far, that is.”

  “Indeed?” She let her own fingers glide over the mechanical workings of his clockwork hand, and he held very still so that she would not nick her skin on the sharp edges of his copper fingers. “Tell me something, Archimedes?”

  “Anything.”

  “Would you like to kiss me?”

  There was nothing he would have liked better, but as he bent his head to lay his lips across hers, he was interrupted by a sudden scuffle from the shadows. He sighed.

  “Come out now, or suffer the consequences,” he warned.

  Three thin, dirty men shuffled from the alley, slinking as they walked, their eyes bright from their soot-smudged faces.

  “Gentlemen. How may we help you?”

  “Give us yer coin and you’ll not be harmed,” the tallest of the three demanded. Archimedes noticed he carried a short wooden mallet, and the other two were likewise armed.

  “I assure you, you may have all I carry.” He reached into his pocket and produced his wallet, tossing it to the man. “Now leave us be.”

  “Nah, nah,” the heaviest ruffian said, leering at Lucia in a way that made a red haze cross Archie’s eyes. “We’ll take the ladybird’s pretty necktie first.”

  There was agony in Lucia’s gaze as she reached for the ribbon that held the cameo. Archie stopped her with a shake of his head. “Take the money and go.”

  “We’ll take the jewel, boyo.”

  Archimedes was a man prone to slow-burning anger. Rarely did he let his temper get the best of him; a hard-won attribute gained through years of brawls and bashings. “Leave,” he warned, stepping in front of Lucia.

  “Well then, we’ll just bash yer skull and take the lady and her jewels. She’s a right pretty bird, she is.”

  Perhaps, Archimedes thought in the moments before he lost all control of his senses, there were better ways to handle the men other than violence. Nevertheless, when one of them lunged toward Lucia, all common sense washed away by the red tide of rage that consumed him. He grabbed the closest man by the throat, his copper fingers closing around the man’s windpipe as he lifted the ruffian off the ground.

  “Archie!” Lucia’s wand was at the ready, and a quick blast of her magic sent the heavier of the men sprawling into the mud.

  “Wizards!” the taller man spat, swinging at Archie with the mallet. “Bloody damn wizards.”

  “Oh no you don’t!” Lucia zapped the tall man with her wand, sending the mallet flying. “You have no idea how much wizards sacrifice to keep you safe! How dare you threaten us?”

  The man growled and lunged for her, shoving her backward into the mud. He raised his hand as if to strike her, and Archie was reminded of another time he had seen her sprawled in the mud, her blood a pool of thick black around her. He dropped the now-unconscious man in his grip and in two strides he was on the last of the robbers.

  “No, Archie!” Only Lucia’s plea kept him from snapping the man’s neck with his bare hands. She stood and reached for his arm. “Let him go.”

  “He was going to hurt you.” />
  “If you kill him it only proves what they say about us. Let him go and send him home with the money.”

  The man’s eyes bulged. “You...you’re gonna...let me...go?” he gurgled. “With...with...the money?”

  “Yes.” Lucia brushed off her skirts and sighed at the mess. She glared at Archie as he continued to hold the man tightly. “I said let him go, Archimedes.”

  “M.. Merriweather?” the robber gasped, his already wide eyes growing wider in terror. “G..G.. Grand Adept?”

  “That’s right, you scoundrel.” Lucia patted Archie’s hand and he slowly released the man. “He could kill you with a thought, but he won’t.”

  “He...he...won’t?”

  “No, he will not hurt you.” Lucia was trying hard to smother a smile, Archie noticed, the fires of his rage banked a little by the slight curve of her lips. “You can take the money and go back to your homes. See the local Apothecary for treatment of your wounds. Tell the others you see that wizards are here to protect you, not to hurt you. If you attack them you do so at your own peril.”

  The man nodded, stumbling to his friends who were slowly coming around. He picked up Archie’s wallet and held it close as the three of them disappeared again into the shadows.

  “That was dangerous,” Archie said, the tension finally bleeding out of his body. He cupped her face gently. “Are you hurt?”

  “No more than my pride and my dress.” She leaned up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You can’t kill everything that threatens me, Archie. It’s not who you are.”

  “If you were hurt I would tear the person who hurt you in two,” he vowed, pressing his forehead to hers.

  “And it would destroy you.” She tucked her wand away with a twitch of her lips. “Besides, I’m perfectly capable of defending myself.”

  He grinned. He knew she was. She was well trained and as courageous as any man. Still, the thought of her hurt made his blood boil. It was an unfortunate side effect of love, he was learning. All his sensible thinking went south when she was threatened, no matter how confident he was in her abilities to defend herself.

  “It’s getting dangerous to be a wizard in this city,” he muttered. He picked up his hat and frowned at the mud splattered over it. “With Icarus gone it will only get worse.”

  “That’s up to the Grand Coven to fix,” she reminded him, taking his arm. “There must be a treaty between science and magic. All we can do is keep the peace until it is signed.”

  He looked at the rising sun. “Care to break fast with me at the VansMueller?” he asked. “I am sure Cora has a dress you can borrow.”

  “That sounds lovely,” she said as they headed across town toward his home. “I am looking forward to a quiet few months while Ic and Cora are away.”

  He nodded. The duties of the Grand Adept had fallen to him, but Lucan Orrin was making sure that London was well patrolled by Grand Coven wizards, so he anticipated little in the way of danger for the next few months. He glanced down at Lucia and smiled. With his friends away and his duty roster cleared he would have plenty of time to court her as lavishly as she deserved.

  A Mission of Utmost Importance

  He ran with all the quickness he could muster. His long legs ate up the cobbled sidewalk, his breath huffing from his chest as he endeavored to make it to the Tower ahead of the rioting crowd. He could hear their cries behind him; almost feel the heat from their torches as they followed close. He dared look over his shoulder once, and could not count the number of angry men, women and children running after him. He sighed in relief as the Tower came into sight at last, standing tall against the backdrop of the London skyline.

  He skidded to a stop in front of the gate, trying to catch his breath.

  “Sir Merriweather!” The guard came running, his hat askew and his blunderbuss leaning. He took in the situation in a moment, throwing open the gate and allowing Archimedes to pass before clanging it closed just ahead of the first angry rioters. “Are you well, sir?”

  Archimedes straightened his stark black jacket and white cravat, wiping away the sweat with his pocket-handkerchief. He sighed at the state of his freshly polished boots, now scuffed from the run. “I am none the worse for wear, as it were.” He handed his hat to the guard, pushing back his hair. “Though I’m dreadfully late.”

  “Yes, I believe the Grand Master was recently bellowing...” The guard’s face went red and he cleared his throat. “I mean, he was looking for you a moment ago.”

  Archimedes took his tall stovepipe hat from the guard and plopped it on his head. “No worries, Mr. George. I understand better than most how decorous Lucan Orrin is not. Tea with the Queen is no simple affair.”

  “Yes, well, the gentlemen are gathering in the solarium on the lower level if you’d care to take a left at the stairs. Brandy and cigars to be served while the ladies are dressing for tea.” The guard winced as the angry protesters surged against the gates. “I’ll have Captain Levisque fly over the courtyard to disperse the crowd.”

  “I appreciate your work, Mr. George.” Archimedes grinned as the guard’s flush went deeper.

  “These people don’t know how much the wizards do to keep this city safe. They cry against paying for magic, but our lives would be much, much worse without you.”

  Archimedes clapped the young guard on the shoulder as the shadow of the dirigible appeared over them. “It appears the Captain is already aware of the situation. Good day, Mr. George.”

  The guard nodded as Archimedes entered the Tower. He looked back to see the young guard standing staunchly against the crowd, his blunderbuss now straight as an arrow. The unfortunate thing, Archimedes thought to himself as he headed for the solarium, was that so many of London’s poor would never understand young Mr. George’s perspective regarding magic. They were too angry, too lost in their certainty, to see the danger as clearly as the Tower guard.

  “At last! My man has arrived.” Lucan Orrin pushed a snifter of brandy into his hand. He frowned.

  “You’ve been running.”

  “How did you know?” Archimedes was not surprised by his friend’s astute observation. The man was blessed with the power of ten wizards.

  “Your clockwork is fast.” Lucan lifted a corner of his mouth in a grin. “Chasing the woman who gave you this kiss?” He wiped at the lip stain that must have smeared on Archimedes’ cheek.

  “A true gentleman does not kiss and tell,” Archimedes said sternly. He grinned as he greeted the other men in the room. “Captain.”

  Corrigan Levisque was the leader of Her Majesty’s Royal Air Corps and the best-damned dirigible captain Archimedes had ever met. The man could coax his ship to fetch and roll over if he wanted. He nodded his head, his long thin body encased in a dark suit. It was odd to see him out of his leathers and with his shaggy brown hair loose rather than covered with his brown skullcap and big flyer’s goggles.

  “Nice to see you again, Merriweather.” The Captain pushed his glasses up onto his nose as he nodded in greeting. “Nickerson dispersed the mob outside the gates, I hope.”

  Archie sipped his brandy with a shrug.

  “I’ll be damned if that still doesn’t yank my corn cob!” The heavyset man with thinning hair and a wide smile gulped his brandy and eyed the gleam of Archimedes’ copper hand. “My Cora Mae was ever aligning herself with the oddest companions.”

  “How are you, Mr. Jenkins?” Cora’s father was everything Archimedes had come to expect from Americans. Despite his loud, brash behavior, he had already proven himself a very well educated man. His smile was wide, but his eyes took in everything and never missed a single moment of the goings-on around him.

  “Well, Mr. Merriweather. Quite well.” Jenkins nodded his head and puffed his cigar. “I couldn’t have hoped for a better match for my beautiful daughter.”

  Though their relationship had always been a little strained with Icarus as Cora’s tutor, Jenkins had seemed to warm instantly to the idea of Cora marrying Icarus,
going so far as to offer them his blessing and a portion of his land in Virginia.

  “It will be less exciting with them gone away to honeymoon.” Bastion Tinsley was the only other man who had seen the carnage at Longmoore, and he carried the shadow of it in his faded blue eyes. He was a quiet man, but as loyal as they came. Without him, Archimedes figured, neither he nor Icarus would be alive to see this day.

  “I think we can all use the quiet,” Archimedes argued and the men laughed at the idea. Life in London was never quiet.

  “Excuse me, Grand Master. Grand Adept.”

  All eyes turned to the door, where poor Mr. George stood with an envelope in his hand, color high on his cheeks.

  “Yes, Mr. George?” Orrin put down his drink and his smoke, crossing to the young guard. The thing about Lucan was that he was so disarmingly normal that he could talk to anyone and they never feared him. Which they should, Archimedes knew. The man had a reputation for unrestrained violence when necessary.

  “A young man is at the gate Grand Master. He’s from Desmond House and he asked that I give this to Mr. Merriweather.”

  “Desmond House?” They only knew one young wizard from Desmond. “Who is it, George?”

  “A young man by the name of Trimble, sir. Grayson Trimble, he says.”

  “Give me the letter.” Lucan reached for the envelope. He tore it open and read it quickly before handing it to Archimedes. “Bring Grayson to me, George. Quickly.”

  The young guard bustled off and Archimedes scanned the missive. “What the devil is this?”

  “Trimble was the young man with you at Longmoore, was he not?” Jenkins asked.

  “The same,” Archimedes confirmed. “He became a bit of a friend to Cora while Icarus was ill, and it seems he needs our assistance.”

  “Something of great importance I expect,” Jenkins said with a raised eyebrow.

  Archimedes poured over the letter again.

  Dearest Grayson,

  You must come. Something is terribly wrong with Mr. Wicket. He does not speak; he lashes out and is awful to the servants. I fear he will try to hurt someone, or himself. I have summoned the doctor and he says that Mr. Wicket is perfectly healthy. Something is amiss at Summer Ridge and I need your help. Please. I do not know whom else to ask. I fear Mr. Wicket may be under the spell of a dark wizard. Please come.