A tight knot swelled in Marley’s throat. “It does?”
She nodded.
He had best be certain the invention would work. The last thing he wanted to do was anger Lord Hargrieve or any of his relations.
A small brass bell rang three times, providing a very welcome distraction. “That should be the tea. Cook is most excellent about making sure there’s always something about for Thadeus and me no matter what time of day it is.”
He walked over to the wall and slid up the wooden door of the dumbwaiter. Inside the wooden contraption sat a silver tea service and three china plates on two trays, one heaped with sandwiches, one with scones, clotted cream, and strawberry jam, and another with sliced fruit and boiled eggs. He picked up the trays, balancing them two on each arm as he carried them over to his workbench.
The back of Sephie’s mouth began to ache and water, and her stomach took the opportunity to growl. She pressed her hand to her stomach to quiet it. She’d missed any chance of having something to eat when Frobisher had rudely shown up uninvited at their home that morning, as he did far too often.
He usually consumed everything from the tea tray, leaving her little besides the comfort of a cup of hot Earl Grey tea.
She picked up one of the sandwiches and bit in, enjoying the crisp, fresh taste of the cucumber and the green bite of the watercress, along with the sweetness of the soft butter. It was simple enough fare, but she was hungry and so it tasted as good as any of the fourteen-course meals her father had their staff serve on important occasions.
Marley poured her a cup of tea and added a generous helping of sugar. “I didn’t ask, but I hope you like your tea sweet. It’s how I take it.”
She offered him a grateful smile. “It’s perfect.” It could have been the weakest, most pathetic cup of tea in the realm and she would have thought it special, only because he’d poured it for her. It had been a very long time since a man had treated her as something other than a featherheaded female or—worse—a china doll to be wrapped in tissue and cosseted away in a drawer for fear of breaking it. Marley was attentive, yet believed in her strengths and reveled in her intellect. Sephie decided he was a most unusual man. Brilliant, but with a tender heart, and a fierceness when it came to protecting others.
He peered at her over the edge of his teacup, his great brown eyes the color of dark tea, but flecked with bits of gold that seemed to make them sparkle. Marley set the cup down. “That key you’re protecting,” he said, nodding at her, “what does it go to?”
Sephie lifted the dark metal key that hung about her neck and stared at it. The black iron was pitted and in truth it looked as old as it l Cs oan>Sikely was, but the metal was still warm from the heat of her own body. “Doesn’t look like much, does it? This little key unlocks a chest that holds a very special book.”
Marley snorted. “Your father sent you away from his home and risked his life battling demons to protect a book? Surely he has libraries full of them!”
“Yes, but the Book of Jezriel is one of a kind. It tells how the archangels and their followers came to be, and how some of them fell, becoming the most powerful dark forces in our world.”
“And am I correct in guessing that you are its keeper?”
Sephie smiled. “I knew you were astute.”
“Is that why Frobisher wishes to wed you so badly?”
She shrugged. “That, and he wants to be the next leader of the Legion. He hopes if he aligns himself with my father by marriage it’ll be more likely. But that’s up to the Legion leaders to decide, no matter how he manipulates the situation.”
Marley glowered into the dregs in his cup. Just by the stiff set of his shoulders and the way his great dark brows drew together in a frown, she knew he was agitated. He hadn’t even shown her his invention, which didn’t seem like him at all.
“You’re still worried about Thadeus, aren’t you?”
His gaze connected with hers. “This isn’t like him. Cook said he hasn’t been home since this afternoon. He left about an hour after I did.” He plucked the round watch from the small pocket in his vest and checked the time.
Sephie racked her brain. She didn’t know where Thadeus had gone or why, but it was clearly distressing Marley. Until they received the notice that things were safe from her father, she needed to stay here and keep Marley here as well. It was just safer for both of them.
“Perhaps he was working on the invention and needed something,” she said. “If we go and look it over you might see what happened.”
Marley’s mouth flattened into a line of resolute displeasure. “I suppose you are right. No use fretting like a mother hen, is there?”
He wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood, straightening his vest. He waited for her to rise. “The machine is this way.” She followed a step behind him, eager to see the electrical machine that could pull current from the air. She’d heard only snatches of the conversation between her father and Frobisher. If Marley was truly as brilliant as they both believed, this machine might be altered into an electrical cannon, capable of being flown in the skies to destroy their enemies with a focused beam like a lightning bolt.
A scraping noise of a door opening at the far end of the laboratory and heavy footfalls on the wooden stairs leading down from the house upstairs stopped Marley in his tracks. “Thad? Where the devil have you been, old chap?”
He stepped toward his cousin, but Sephie gripped him hard on the arm and held him back.
“It’s all right. It’s just Thadeus.”
“No, it’s not.” Her face was white and drawn, her lips pressed together in a thin, tight line, and her body stiff. “Look at his eyes,” she whispered.
As Thadeus emerged from the shadows of the stairwell, Marley could see his eyes were not the familiar brown he’d known but a dark, golden yellow. The raw, prickly sensation of something unnatural that one felt walking through a graveyard at night coiled and twisted in Marley’s belly like a ball of worms. Sephie’s reaction and his own intuition told him whatever h Cim a gad happened to Thadeus wasn’t normal.
“He’s been possessed by a demon. We need to leave. Now.” Her tone was hushed but urgent.
“Where are you going, Marley?” Thad’s voice echoed as if more than one person spoke with his vocal cords at the same time.
“I have to see our guest home.”
“Rude of you not to introduce us.” He tilted his head to the side, a gruesome smile stretching his mouth. “But then, we don’t need much of an introduction, do we, my dear?”
Sephie shuddered, and her hand grew instantly clammy against Marley’s skin. She tugged harder on him. “Now, Marley.”
Marley didn’t stop to think. He went with his instincts.
He dashed for the outside exit, pulling her with him. He hoped if they approached Binky, he’d obey the order to kill anything coming into the lab, but allow them to go out unharmed.
Sephie screamed, and Marley felt the both of them yanked viciously backward. “I want that key!” Thadeus hissed.
She scrabbled with her clothing, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a vial of clear liquid. With one smooth movement of her thumb, she popped the rubber stopper out and tossed the liquid at Thadeus. He let go, howling in protest and clawing at his face as chunks of flesh turned first into a bloody pulp and then charred.
Marley spied Binky clanking and whirring in their direction. Rather than take a chance he’d be inclined to mash them flat, Marley doubled back toward the lab, past his writhing cousin, Sephie in tow behind him.
“Where the blazes are you going? The exit is that way!”
“Yes, and the airship is this way.”
He pulled down a huge lever in the wall, and the large seam in the center of the smaller room off to the side of the main laboratory began to widen, opening to the night sky. “Help me get the tarps off!”
Together they pulled at the heavy canvas sheeting that covered his machine, which had a gondola the size of a phaeton.
Part aeronautic carriage, part dirigible, part energy manipulation machine, it was their best chance to get up and away from whatever it was that had taken over Thadeus and seemed to be relentless in pursuing Sephie and the key she wore.
“Get in!”
She scrambled over the wicker edge of the gondola in a flurry of petticoats and rolled into the basket beneath the balloon. Marley climbed in and fired up the propellers. Using electromagnetic energy to heat the water for the steam boilers ensured the water heated almost instantly, providing ready access to steam.
Thadeus came limping toward them. Bile rose bitter and acidic in the back of Marley’s throat to see the damage his cousin had suffered. Out of habit and curiosity he leaned toward him, but Sephie grabbed Marley’s arm, jerking him away as she said urgently, “He’s trapped in his own body right now. The demon controls him. He’ll kill you with his bare hands and not be able to stop himself. Don’t think for a moment the demon will allow him pity or remorse. It’s here to do a job: kill us and take the key.”
Marley stiffened his resolve and his upper lip and removed the anchor rope holding the craft down as the balloon swelled upward. It grew until it was ten times larger than the gondola and lifted them out of the open hatch into the night air.
He had to carefully adjust the direction of the propellers to keep the balloon from snagging on the wrought iron edging and ragged bits of slate th Cs ooutat fashioned the roofline of Bostwick House.
While Thadeus cursed and jumped, scrabbling for a hold on them, Marley noted the dark shadows shifting through and filling the gardens. They weren’t ordinary shadows, of that he was sure.
Sephie peered over the edge. “More demons,” she muttered. “It looks as though your laboratory isn’t as safe as we thought.”
“Clearly.” He peered sharply at her. “What will become of my family?”
“The Legion will be here shortly and help them. I’m sure that the minute Father dispatched the demons at our home he sent word for us to be followed and protected.”
They rose still higher, the gas streetlights of London barely visible through the pervasive coal-smoke haze that perpetually hung in the air. Fog rolled in off the Thames, and as they climbed still higher, they lost sight of the city altogether.
A strong breeze whipped along the gondola, and the steady whop, whop, whop of the wooden propellers created a soothing noise that made their daring escape seem that much more surreal.
Sephie wrapped her delicate hands over the wooden rails of the wicker gondola, looking down on a world that seemed much more peaceful, more serene than it should. The shroud of dark, smoky air beneath them gave way to clearer skies over the country as they headed north.
The warmth of Marley standing behind her kept the shivers at bay. Their escape had been by his ingenuity and her knowledge of Hunter lore. The countryside spread out beneath them, making her very aware just how lucky she was to be with the one man in all of England who could outsmart the Darkin without any Legion training. They would be a fine pair, once she convinced her father to let her marry Marley—if he proposed.
He placed a hand on either side of the rail, holding her in the circle of his arms. “Are you certain you aren’t hurt?” he asked softly, dipping his head to speak softly beside her ear.
“Nothing but a few scratches.”
“That’s good. I couldn’t bear if anything happened to you.” She turned to face him, putting their mouths within inches of each other. Her lips tingled at the memory of what kissing him was like. The moonlight, unfiltered by fog and soot-laden air, cast his strong features in stark relief.
Sephie had never had a man give her his full attention in this way, as if she were the sun and the planets all revolved around her. It was quite a heady thing. “Have you come to care for me that quickly?”
“More than you know.” His gaze dropped for a second. He shoved his right hand in the small upper breast pocket of his vest and pulled out a bit of white tissue paper. The edge of it fluttered in the breeze. “I meant to give this to you this afternoon at your father’s house. I asked his permission to court you.”
He carefully peeled back the folded layers of tissue, exposing a simple gold oval locket on an elegant chain. “I wasn’t positive how your father would take my request, especially after learning he entertained Frobisher’s suit for your hand.”
“But I don’t want Frobisher,” she interrupted. “You know that.”
“I do. But the question remains if your father will see me as a suitable match for you after all this. I think it’ll rest on the success of the electric cannon.”
Sephie huffed. “I don’t think it will matter. He hasn’t a choice now, has he? We’re together. Alone. Unchaperoned. After we spend a night together traveling to North Clinr. Humberland, I hardly think he can in all good conscience reject a proposal, no matter how your experiment goes.”
Marley’s sculpted lips spread into a genuine smile, the kind a boy gives when his dearest Christmas wish has been fulfilled. “I know this isn’t a ring, but I thought you might wish to choose that for yourself.”
Sephie lifted the locket from the paper. The golden oval wobbled back and forth in the breeze. “Marley Turlock, are you making me an offer of marriage?”
“I certainly am. I know I’ll never meet another woman who has your combination of kind heart and inquisitive mind. You are truly one of a kind, and I love you and want you to be my wife.”
Her stomach flipped and a giddy, fizzing sensation spread out to every cell. This was what joy and freedom felt like. Pure, undarkened, unbridled. She smiled, reaching up on tiptoe to brush her lips against his.
He pulled back slightly. “Is that a yes?”
She kissed him harder. “Of course that’s a yes, no matter what befalls us. Will you put the necklace on me?”
Marley unlatched the chain and slipped the locket around her neck. “I thought we might put a picture of you and me in it to keep the pictures of us close to your heart.”
Sephie smiled warmly at him, her fingers slipping over the locket. “You just remember you’re mine while you’re at those fancy royal balls and bestowed with honors, once you test that invention of yours and become world famous, and we have all these amazing adventures together. I’m one in a million, Sir Turlock, and I loved you even when you were just a mere inventor.”
“How could I ever forget? I doubt you’ll let me,” he teased in return.
“You’re right. I never will.” This time Marley cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her soundly.
Sephie could barely breathe. She didn’t want to. She wanted this moment to last. But when he finally broke the connection between them she gazed up in the warm chocolate eyes of the man she lo
ved. “What was that for?”
He gently took a curl of her hair and smoothed it between his fingers, adoration in his gaze. “Because, Lady Persephone Hargrieve, I’ll never get enough of you.”
Keep reading for more of Marley Turlock and his inventions,
as he helps the Jackson brothers fight the Darkin in
The Hunter,
the first book of the Legend Chronicles,
available in paperback and as an eBook.
They’re the Chosen—Winchester, Remington, and Colt—brothers trained to hunt down supernatural beings using the latest steam-powered gadgetry. It’s a hard legacy to shoulder, and it’s about to get a lot more dangerous . . .
A DEVIL OF A JOB
Colt Jackson has gotten his name on many a wanted poster with success in the family business: hunting supernaturals across the frontier. Lately, though, there’s a sulfur stink in the wind, and the Darkin population is exploding. A rift in the worlds is appearing. To close it, Colt will have to do the unthinkable and work with a demon to pass arcane boundaries Flinr.the wno human alone can cross.
Except when he summons his demon, he doesn’t get some horned monstrosity: he gets a curvy redheaded succubus named Lilly, who’s willing to make a bargain
to become human again. He also gets Lilly’s secret expertise in the machinations on the dark side of the rift. And her charm and cleverness help to get them out of what his silver-loaded pistol and mechanical horse can’t. Of course, when all hell breaks loose, he might have to sacrifice his soul. But what’s adventure without a little risk?
The adventure continues in The Slayer,
out now,
and concludes in The Chosen,
in stores in March 2013!
In the Beginning
Near Springfield, Missouri, 1873
“Aren’t you Cy Jackson’s boy?”
Colt looked up at the stranger through the ragged edge of his thick, dark hair. The afternoon sun that had all but baked him alive now slung low in the sky, making it difficult for him to see more than a backlit outline of the man through the dusty haze.
“Yeah.” Left behind by his pa and two older brothers to chop wood while they went hunting, Colt had spent his energy for the day. His faded red shirt, gritty and damp with sweat, stuck to his lean body. He straightened, keeping a firm hold on the smooth hardwood handle of his axe just in case he needed it. He might be only fourteen, but he knew how to protect himself and what was theirs. The hair on the back of his neck rose in warning. Strangers didn’t just “drop in.” The homestead was thirty miles out of town and not on the road to anywhere.
It took only a second, just a mere blink, for the stranger to launch off his horse and clamp his cold, pale hands around Colt’s throat. He’d never seen anything move so fast in all his life. Hard fingers lifted Colt off the ground so that his feet swung awkwardly from his long limbs. The pressure caused sparks to pop in Colt’s vision. Choking and gagging, he dropped the axe from his nerveless fingers as he clawed at the icy hands squeezing off his air.
The Inventor (The Legend Chronicles) Page 6
