by Lucy Wild
Ardour
Lucy Wild
Copyright 2015 Lucy Wild
Published by Luna Swift Publishing
All characters portrayed are over the age of 18
In a steampunk world, there’s one thing everyone craves…ardour
Contents
Ardour
Also by the Same Author
Ardour
He came for me during the night. He always did. I went with him out of the window and down into the gutters of the city. I always felt nervous down there, even with Jared by my side. One wrong move and all the fuseguns in the world wouldn’t help me.
He guided the steamcrate past the lower floors, concentrating hard as the wind began to buffet us. I glanced in at the windows as we passed. All those people, all those lives. They were all safe in their rooms, oblivious to our passing. I wondered how this had happened. Why did he always call on me when they found one? Just because I’d seen the first victim didn’t make me an expert as I tried to tell him over and over again. They never listened.
We descended past the exhaust ports of the steamscraper, plunging through the thick white smoke and down into the gloom below. Another minute and we landed. I stepped off the steamcrate and looked around for any signs of immediate danger. It was a bitterly cold night which seemed to have worked in our favour, most of the cutpurses were sheltering in the gluebars, waiting for the temperatures to rise above freezing. They were in for a long wait.
I hate the feel of solid ground under my feet, it feels wrong somehow. I’d grown up with the gentle rocking and swaying of the steamscrapers around me and only a fool would set foot in the gutters after dark. What did that make me? “We better get moving,” Jared said, pulling the collar of his cloak up around his neck as he strode off between two crumbling buildings which creaked in the wind as we passed.
I followed him in silence, my fingers wrapped round the fusegun in my pocket. It only held one charge, I hadn’t been able to afford any more but I hoped it would at least be enough to scare off any of the cutpurses who might brave the darkness if they spotted two bits of scraper bait amongst them.
I wrapped my cloak around me as Jared turned left down an alleyway filled with rotten cabbage leaves and old newspapers. I glanced down at the remnants of one headline. KILLER STRIKES AGAIN. BOD-. The rest was torn away but I didn’t need it. I was there.
I hadn’t meant to come down to the gutter but I’d had no choice. My neighbour’s kid had got hold of the key to their steamcrate and had set off on a joyfloat. They were in a panic and had no idea what to do. I sent a mechapigeon to Jared asking him to meet me in the gutter but the mecha had sprung a leak and never reached him as I found out afterwards.
I’d waited in the gutter at the only working mooring station for miles, wondering when he’d arrive, fusegun held at arms length as I called out for the boy. It was no more than a couple of minutes before I was surrounded by nightowls, seeing a woman as an easy target. The fusegun was the only thing holding them at bay and they didn’t know I only had one charge left.
I heard a scream off to my left but that was nothing unusual in the gutter. Down here silence was more worrying than noise. I began to walk, wondering what the hell had happened to Jared. I was just passing a fleshery when I caught sight of the steamcrate, directly above my head and wobbling. It was the boy and he was clearly struggling to control it.
The nightowls looked up too and I realised it would be a race to see who got to him first. I lost. I ran after the steamcrate but they knew the shortcuts far better than a scraper dweller like me. I was soon panting for breath, not used to the thick air down here on the surface. I turned a corner and there the crate was, laid on its side between two towering brick buildings that looked like they might collapse at any moment. I could see a figure sprawled on the ground, rolling around in agony and I knew it was the boy. It didn’t occur to me to wonder where the nightowls had gone until it was too late. I slowed as I approached the figure but as I reached him I realised it wasn’t the boy. The pieces of the boy were spread across the cobbles. The figure getting slowly to its feet chilled my blood to the bone when I realised who it was, the one thing that could scare away the nightowls. It was one of them, an undergrounder here in the flesh with murder in his eyes.
Jared stopped walking and was pointing to the end of the street and I was brought out my memories of the last time I was here. Once again a body lay in a pool of blood. I knelt down to examine it as Jared held his lantern above me. In the flickering light I could tell this was no surface dweller. In fact I didn’t even need to search for papers. I knew who it was. I should, after all his face was plastered on the walls of every scraper and banknote.
“Who is it?” Jared asked, looking around for any sign of nightowls or cutpurses.
I got to my feet. “It’s the mayor.”
He almost dropped his lantern. “What? Are you serious?”
I nodded. “Have a look.”
He knelt down and held the lantern towards the glassy eyes of Edwin Gauge, founder of Gauge Industries and the richest man for countless leagues around. “What the hell was Gauge doing down here in the gutter?”
“That’s the question,” I replied just as a noise reached us from the building to my right. I glanced across in time to see the blue glow of a fusegun warming up from inside a broken window. The gun fired at the same time as I shoved Jared to one side, diving the other way just as the heated ray shot between us.
“Come on!” Jared shouted. “Before it recharges.”
He grabbed my arm but I shook him off, sinking to my knee and warming up my own weapon. I fired at the same time as the figure in the window but I was the better shot. I heard a scream and I knew I’d got lucky, he was still alive. A well aimed fusegun never left any remains but perhaps we’d get some answers from this one.
Jared was through the window before me and I climbed after him in time to see him holding the wannabe assassin by the collar. “Talk to us,” he said, his voice calm and unemotional, controlling his anger as best he could.
“Oh curse you both,” the man said, blood seeping from the wound in his side, his innards beginning to spill out. “Why couldn’t you keep your noses out?”
“Who are you?” I asked, the flickering lantern light illuminating a wan face with a single remaining eye. It was not unusual for gutter dwellers to lose eyes or fingers. The work when it could be found in the mills did not forgive mistakes.
He laughed, his chest heaving as he spat out blood. “You should have stayed at home,” he wheezed. “So should I.”
“Why did you try to kill us?”
“Ardour.” He said nothing more, his eyes glazing over as Jared lay him back down. “Now what?” he asked, turning to me.
“Did you hear what he said?”
“Yes I heard,” Jared snapped. “But what do we do about the mayor?”
“We can’t let anyone know he’s dead. It’d cause chaos.”
“True. But-”
“Go bring the steamcrate. We’ll take the body to mine and then I think we should go for a night on the tiles.”
He raised his eyebrows at me. “Ardour?”
I nodded, watching as he clambered out of the window, leaving me alone with my victim. I prised the fusegun from his fingers. Three charges left. I replaced his fusegun with my own before reaching into his blazer to see if there was anything in there that might help me. It contained an entrance stub for Ardour, two shilling coins that were encrusted with dirt and a steamcrate spanner. The spanner meant something but at the time I couldn’t work out what that might be. By the time I’d pocketed the items and climbed back out into the street Jared was back with the steamcrate.
I took the mayor’s shoulders and Jared grabbed his feet and somehow we got him inside. The crate staggered into the air, not used to the weight of three people at once. Jared fought with the controls as we headed up through the clouds and back to the scraper. He moored it outside my window and we looked around to see if anyone was passing. I was glad of the cold and the dark as it kept us hidden whilst we got the mayor’s body inside.
“Have you got any blankets?” Jared asked.
“Over there,” I pointed as I went to the basin to wash the blood from my hands.
Once the mayor was hidden from sight we climbed back onto the steamcrate and set off for Ardour.
It wasn’t just a music hall. Ardour was the one spot in the whole skyisland system where you could get hold of liquid ardour, hence its name. The distilled product of plants only found in the dankest sections of the gutter, it was a nightmare to produce and out of the reach of the pockets of most citizens. Everyone knew about it but few could afford it. I’d only been inside the place once back when I was working full time for the scraper council but I’d not been willing to try ardour while I was there, knowing only too well the stories of its effects.
Jared set the steamcrate down amongst dozens of others on the doorstep and we joined the eager queue. “What’s the plan?” I asked as we slowly shuffled forwards.
“I’ll talk to the attendants. You see if you can find anyone who knew our trigger happy friend down there. Meet by the bar at midnight.”
I glanced at my pocket watch. 11.30. We reached the door when the minute hand pointed at quarter to. That gave me fifteen minutes, would that be long enough?
The brute of a doorman towered over the two of us as he sneered at the cheap cut of our cloaks. “Been here before?” he grunted.
I held out the stub I’d taken earlier and he took it from me, his eyebrows rising for a brief second. “In you go. They’re waiting for you backstage.”
I opened my mouth but Jared poked me before I could ruin things by asking too many questions and then we were in.
The change in temperature was shocking. It was bakingly hot in there and the noise was deafening. We were in the foyer and there were people everywhere. I couldn’t see a single drop of the distinct pink fluid in any of the glasses on display. Jared moved away leaving me alone. I looked around me and then made a decision, heading towards the auditorium. I was almost there when a hand descended on my shoulder. I turned to see a beautiful woman smiling at me, her eyes icy cold. “Come this way madam,” she said, her grip tightening on my arm. I glanced around for Jared but he was nowhere to be seen.
The woman led me through the throng to an unmarked door, winding the keyhole until it sprung back and the door opened.
She pushed me through before pulling it shut behind me, leaving me alone in a gaslit corridor. I rattled the handle but it was already locked. Having no choice but to walk forwards, I made my way along a maze of corridors that gradually descended until I at least reached an open door.
I stepped inside to find a group of people sat around a long low table. The man in the centre stood up and I was taken by the cut of his dinner suit, an outfit that looked like it cost more than I earned in a year.
“Is it done?” he asked, looking expectantly at me.
“It is,” I replied, holding my trembling hands behind my back.
“Excellent. Won’t you join us for a snifter to celebrate business as usual once more?”
He pointed at an empty chair and I sat perched on the edge, wondering what the hell was going on here. A crystal decanter was produced, filled to the brim with Ardour. A glass was poured out for me before the others received the same. “To the death of a tyrant,” the man said, holding his glass in the air.
“The mayor,” the others said in unison before downing their drinks. I looked down at my glass, trying to decide whether or not to drink, wondering what might happen if I did.
They all looked at me, suspicion growing on their faces until I finally tipped the glass towards my mouth. It tasted like an intensely sweet honey as it ran down my throat. Within seconds my body began to heat up and I no longer felt suspicion towards those sat around me. Instead the more I looked at them, the more desirable they became.
“To business,” the man said. “This is the sum we discussed I believe.” He passed me a sheaf of banknotes, all marked with the visage of the mayor. I pocketed it in silence, staring at his hand as I did so, wishing it was plunging into my pussy at that very moment. I blinked, fighting away the effects of the ardour. It was becoming increasingly difficult to focus on anything but sex.
“Now we should go and watch the show. Why don’t you join Esmerelda in her box?”
A woman to my left stood up and I was bowled over by how beautiful she looked. She held out her hand and took mine, sending shivers through me as we walked from the room, along a corridor and onto a set of autostairs which propelled us into separate boxes that overlooked the stage.
The woman took the seat on the left and beckoned for me to take the one beside her. “I know who you are,” she whispered to me. “That wasn’t ardour you drank.”
“What?” I hissed, more confused than ever.
“I need you to listen to me. When I say so, come with me. Do not ask questions. Do not dawdle.”
I found it hard to believe the ardour wasn’t having this effect on me. I hardly heard her words, I was focussing on how soft her lips appeared. The longer I sat here, the more I was attracted to her. She looked stunning, her waist held in by her corset, her features enhanced by the darkest of makeup, her hair in exquisite curls. If not the ardour then what was causing such lust to build up within me?
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“They told you. Esmerelda.”
“Oh yes. Sorry.”
“And I know you. You’re the one that found the last body. You were in the papers. How he did not recognise you I do not know but that counts in your favour I suppose. We might both leave here alive.”
I glanced at my pocketwatch. Midnight. Jared would be waiting for me but there was no way of getting a message to him from here. I could only hope he would wait for me.
The curtain lifted as the gaslights lowered until there was only a single limelight pointed at the stage. Out stepped two women wearing the most salacious outfits I’d ever seen. They wore black pantaloons that were little more than knickers, frilled and covered in sparkling jewels. Their chests were bare except for carved jet circles which had been positioned over their nipples. The band in the pit struck up and the women began to dance, moving slowly to the wings and each returning holding a tall glass of ardour. As the crowd cheered they linked arms and poured the drinks down each other’s throats.
Almost immediately they fell on each other, the crowd going wild at the sight before them. I had known that Ardour had become more debauched in recent times but this show shocked me to my core. As I stared in silence the blonde woman tore the clothes from the redhead. I caught sight of the first naked woman I’d ever seen apart from when I’d observed myself in the mirror. She looked distinctly different to me. Her breasts were far larger, the jet nipple covers flung to one side to reveal hardened flesh that was dark brown and sent shudders of excitement through my body. Her knickers were ripped off and tossed into the crowd as she was flung onto her back.
The blonde woman knelt between her legs and began an action I can only describe as being like that of a mechcat licking oilcream. “Oh my,” I inadvertently blurted out.
I almost screamed as I felt a hand upon my knee before remembering I was not alone in the box. I had been so distracted by the show I had forgotten about Esmerelda but she had not forgotten about me. Her hand remained on my knee as she leaned towards me in the darkness and whispered in my ear. “What do you think of the performance?”
“Is this what ardour does to people?” I whispered back.
“Ardour is a myth. It’s just a syrup of cherries mixed with junipers.”
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br /> “What? But why are they doing such things if there is not the influence of ardour involved?”
“People sometimes need an excuse to relax their inhibitions. I personally need nothing other than the love of a good woman. Are you a good woman?”
I shook my head, thinking of how many times I’d fired my fusegun in the last year. “No, no I am not.”
“Well I sometimes like bad women too.” Her hand slid up from my knee along my leg towards my tightly crossed thighs.
“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to push her hand away.
“Do you truly wish me to stop? Merely say the word and I will leave you alone forever more.”
I thought for a moment and then my hand folded onto the top of hers, our fingers entwining. I could not look at her, my shame at my own desires being too overwhelming. Instead I stared at the stage where a gentleman had joined the women. I realised it was the man who’d handed me the money in my pocket, assuming me to be the one who’d killed the mayor. His penis was sticking out from his trousers which looked both obscene and amusing as his outfit was otherwise undisturbed.
The two women were both naked by now and they knelt on all fours facing away from the audience so their peachy round bottoms and just a hint of pussy was visible to the roaring crowd. The man took his erection in his hand and knelt behind the blonde woman, looking back over his shoulder and winking to the crowd, saying something but I could not hear the words over the screams that echoed round the auditorium.
“Quickly,” Esmerelda said, getting to her feet. “While he is occupied. Come!”
“But…”I began, taking a final glance at the stage as the man slid himself into the woman. I felt tingles deep inside me at the sight but I saw no more as Esmerelda took me by the hand and led me back to the autostairs. We descended at speed and she crammed a piece of parchment into my hands before ushering me back into the foyer. “Will I see you again?” I asked as she turned away. “I must see you again.”
