by Anne Renwick
Olivia snapped her jaw shut and pressed a hand to her mouth.
Ian swore. The last thing he needed was yet another complication.
“No worry,” Wei said, holding up her hands. “I not tell. But I come.”
“Come?” he asked.
“Come to England.”
“Why?” Olivia asked. “Why would you want to come with us?”
Wei crossed her arms. “Zheng is my uncle. I do not like.”
“She will be your responsibility,” he warned, “when they throw me in prison.”
“If,” Olivia objected. “Either way, I will see to her education.” She pulled her shoulders back and straightened her spine, daring him to object.
He admired that, her refusal to acquiesce to society’s expectations. There was much about her to admire, even if he did want to shake her until all her secrets rattled free.
“I am agent enough to know we need to develop an escape plan that does not rely upon coincidence and convenience. One we can implement at a moment’s notice should the count decide we are an impediment to be jettisoned.” She turned to Wei. “Did you speak with Elizabeth?”
Wei nodded. Excitement lit up her eyes again. “Germany, it not safe for you. I will help. I build three wings like this, only bigger.” She turned around, pointing over her shoulder. “For lady. For gentleman. For princess in tower. It will carry you far, far into the woods. Then, you run.”
Olivia placed a hand Wei’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Fly?” She’d nearly fainted when asked to exit the escape dirigible by rope. “Are you suggesting we fly from this room?”
“No,” Olivia said. “I believe she is suggesting we glide.”
“Are you both mad?” he bellowed. “Elizabeth may think the cells have strengthened her skeleton, but they’ve had less than forty-eight hours to alter the mineral content of her bone.”
Seven bones in each ankle. Nineteen bones in each foot. Any or all could break upon landing. If she tripped… A cold sweat broke out beneath his collar at the idea of strapping such gear onto his fragile sister’s back. He turned upon Olivia. She, on the other hand…. Well, he no longer knew what to worry about. She’d seemed genuinely terrified of heights when they’d leapt from the escape dirigible, but now she was willing to leap from this castle window with no safety harness, no rope, no assistance? No practice? Could she work up enough nerve to jump?
“How many times have you worn wings?” he challenged.
“About as many times as I have been imprisoned in a castle,” Olivia snapped. “But I’m willing to try. When it’s time to make our final exit, if we’re to have any hope of outrunning the count, his guardsmen or Zheng, we need an escape plan, a way for all three of us to exit quickly and travel well beyond the village.”
They glared at each other a long moment.
“We’ll discuss this later,” he stated.
“At length.” She offered him a false smile. “But we have much to accomplish tonight. Show her the vial.”
Ian pulled the toxin from his pocket. “These Chinese characters, can you read them?”
Wei took the vial and her eyes grew round. “Is poison called shen. Kill rats on airship. Medicine for blood disease. And British ladies use for making face white.”
It was all the confirmation he needed. “Gray arsenic. Rapidly oxidized to form arsenous oxide. A classic skin purifier and poison.” He snapped his fingers. “Warrick designed his cells to uptake both antimony and arsenic. If the patient consumes antimony, his bones harden. Then, at the first sign of osteoblastoma, a cure could be effected by forcing rapid bone growth and providing the cells with arsenic instead.”
“Causing the cells to accumulate the poison and self-destruct.” Olivia jumped to her feet. “We need to see what’s inside that mill. Now.”
There was a hiss, a whoosh. A sharp intake of air. Wei plucked a dart from her chest and stared at it in amazement before staggering backward. With a cry, Olivia rushed to her side, catching the girl as her wings clattered and tore against the stone wall.
“Brilliant deductions, all of them,” a familiar voice said behind them. “But we must prepare for departure. Please, gather your belongings.”
Ian didn’t need to turn. “Good evening, Countess.”
Olivia looked up, her face pale. “What have you done?”
“Distractions must be removed. She’ll be fine,” Katherine said. “Eventually.”
Olivia pulled Wei into her lap, and Ian knelt, pressing a hand to the girl’s chest. It still rose and fell, but slowly and shallowly. He’d used this weapon before, but never upon a child. Wei would survive, but at half the size of an adult, a second dart would kill her.
“How did you obtain this weapon?” he asked, knowing full well Black had been the last to possess this TTX pistol.
“That man, the one who attended the balloon crash, he followed you here. He dared approach my children.” Katherine narrowed her eyes and aimed the purloined weapon at his chest. “You betrayed me, Ian.” Her voice grew colder. “Even now my husband and Zheng hunt for me. Time to depart. If you cooperate, I will allow Lady Elizabeth to accompany us.”
Hands in the air, Ian rose. He also shifted closer to the washstand. “No. Not yet. I need to investigate the mill and Warrick’s cure.”
“Warrick is dead.” She waved at the desk. “You have his notes. It is enough.”
He held firm. “First I visit the mill.”
“A tiresome refrain.” Katherine sighed heavily. “No. I will not risk losing you. You will hide elsewhere in the castle until it is time for our extraction.” The countess turned her attention to Olivia. “Step away from the child. We must leave now. Come without resistance, and I will let the girl live. Gather your belongings, the device and whatever you require to ensure it functions.”
With the faintest of movements, the slightest tip of his head, he informed Olivia of his plans.
Olivia answered with an equally imperceptible nod. She snapped her fingers twice and whistled. Making a faint humming sound, her hedgehog trundled out from beneath the bed. A long, thin rod extended from his nose. Her mechanical hedgehog was more than a simple toy. At the very least, it was a distraction.
“What is this?” Katherine stepped backward. “Order it to stop.”
“But I require his contents to program the osforare apparatus,” Olivia objected, gently lowering Wei’s head to the floor.
Ian reached for the porcelain ewer, wrapping his hand about the pitcher’s handle.
“Watson, engage,” Olivia ordered.
The metal beast scampered toward Katherine. She leapt backward. It missed.
Ian didn’t. He brought the ceramic pitcher down upon the side of her head, against her temple, and she slumped. The TTX pistol clattered to the ground. He kicked it aside. “Olivia, help me tie her ankles and wrists.”
“Pistons and steam,” she muttered. “Electrocuting her would have been immensely satisfying, but perhaps we might still have that chance—for I’ve a better option than tearing strips from her petticoats. Watson, come.”
Whirring with satisfaction, her zoetomatic waddled across the floor to bump against her leather-laced ankle. She scooped it from the floor, running a hand over the surface of its spines, then tapped out a code on the zoetomatic’s spines and the curved, interlocking sections of its back retracted to reveal a hollow interior.
“Think of him as a mobile reticule.” She reached inside to extract an axon thrall band and its master cuff, ones he’d last seen fastened about his sister’s wrists. He gaped as she tossed back the hem of Katherine’s skirt and locked a band about her ankle. She clamped the master band about the leg of the bed, locked it, then activated it with a twist of her fingers. “We hide her underneath.” She tore a strip from the countess’ petticoat. “A gag as well, in case she decides to yell, though she’s rather made enemies of everyone inside the castle.”
“I’ll add sleight of hand and enemy immobilization t
o your growing list of skills. Might I find you’ve any other useful items inside Watson?” Did he dare hope for a weapon or two?
“A rather… advanced lock pick,” she answered. “A device to call upon should we encounter a particularly difficult lock, such as the firkin cincture bolt.”
He lifted his eyebrows, about to press further when Katherine moaned. Instead, he placed the osforare apparatus case onto the desk. Setting aside the device, he began to disassemble the container, revealing hidden compartments that concealed tubes, powder packets, glass vials, needles. And a steel syringe.
“Cogs and gears,” Olivia said. “I never thought…”
“To look beyond the first layer?” A satisfied smile tugged at his lips. “Neither did the count’s guardsmen. They were far too concerned about the blades I carried, about the acousticotransmitters you planted.” He stuffed most of the items into his pockets, then picked up a vial and the syringe.
“What is that?”
“This is crinlozyme.” He tapped the glass and metal tube, squirting out a small amount of the drug to eliminate bubbles. “A second layer of imprisonment. The drug will immobilize her for up to twenty-four hours, unless the antidote is applied.”
Katherine’s eyes flew open.
“It will not kill you,” he spoke to the countess. “But as I mentioned, we must visit the mill. We’ll save questions for later.”
If he intended to make a serious offer for Olivia’s hand, he’d need to do more than return her safely to the duke. He needed to make amends, such as providing the location of Kadskoye, the secret Russian biotechnology facility.
“Nyet. You will learn nothing,” she spat.
“I will learn everything.” He grabbed the hem of her sleeve, tearing it upward to her elbow. He wrapped the strip of petticoat about her arm and felt for a vein, then slid the needle in and pushed the plunger home.
“You won’t get away with this,” Katherine slurred. Her eyelids drooped.
“Won’t I?” He wrenched the ring of keys from her belt and handed it to Olivia. “Not that I doubt your abilities, but these will speed us on our way.”
While Olivia pried free the end of the bed, Ian stuffed a wad of silk into Katherine’s mouth, securing it with a strip of petticoat. Just in case. Nearly a year had passed since he’d last replenished his supplies, and he couldn’t be certain of the drug’s potency.
He searched her body, relieving her of a variety of many razor-sharp and useful blades. A scrap of paper fell to the ground. A note. Scrawled in Cyrillic. “Olivia,” he called. “Do you read, as well as speak, Russian?”
“Of course. Why?”
He handed her the note.
She translated. “Vorontsky en route. Eliminate test subject. Secure scientist, additional guest and materials. Prepare for flyby boarding at The Roost.”
So much for her promise of including Elizabeth.
“Flyby?” Olivia asked.
“Typically, it involves boarding a dirigible by rope. The reverse of our entry into this castle, except the dirigible does not stop. The opportunity to board is a finite window, dependent upon the speed of the airship and the length of rope available.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “Or perhaps she means to leave by pteryform?”
“It would redefine the term ‘flyby’.”
“And when she’s not there?”
“They keep going,” he said. “Depending upon the value they place upon her, upon this biotechnology, agents may or may not be sent to look for her.”
“Screws and shafts,” she grumbled, as they grabbed the unconscious countess beneath her arms and dragged her to the foot of the great bed, prying off the end panel to shove and push Katherine into decades of accumulated dust and grime. “This is one of the most satisfying moments of the entire mission.”
“Oh?” Ian pressed the panel back into place. “I rather enjoyed spending time atop the mattress.”
Olivia’s face burst into flame.
“Time for a trip to town.” They would revisit the subject of marriage later. “Can you carry the osforare apparatus?” He eyeballed her large reticule. “The situation here appears to be deteriorating, and there is the faintest chance we might be unable to return.” In which case he wanted the device with him.
“The seams might rip.” She grabbed a thick woolen stocking and began to wrap the apparatus. “But if it keeps you from a charge of treason…”
Treason was the least of his worries now. If the duke learned Ian had deflowered his daughter, he’d be drawn and quartered.
He grabbed the TTX pistol—two darts remained—and eased the door open. Two guards lay unconscious upon the ground, TTX darts protruding from their thighs. It seemed Katherine had also taken possession of Black’s small arsenal of pufferfish poison, clearing a path for her escape.
But perhaps not theirs.
Shoving Wei’s torn wings from her shoulders, he scooped her up and handed Olivia the girl’s sack. “The hall is empty but…”
Ruffled reticule hanging from her elbow, Olivia crouched beside him. The hedgehog had curled itself into a metal ball. “Watch.”
She rolled Watson down the hallway. Three yards out, he sprang to his feet, spines at the ready. The creature scurried nimbly to the turn of the hall, whistled twice, then scampered onward. “All clear,” she whispered and stepped into the corridor.
He shifted Wei’s weight to his shoulder and followed. Surprising, the allies one sometimes made. A child. A mechanical toy. A woman who was not-quite-a-spy.
One who had inserted herself into his life, filling a gaping hole he’d not known existed.
Chapter Thirty
THE CASTLE HALLS were littered with the guardsmen Katherine had incapacitated, and they had almost reached the kitchens when Watson returned to bump against Olivia’s ankle. She glanced down in time to see him blink twice before curling into a ball and retracting his spines.
“Someone’s approaching,” she hissed, scooping him up and shoving him into her reticule.
“I’ve only two darts left,” Ian warned. “Be prepared to run.” Drawing his pistol, he whipped about the corner and dropped the patrolling pair of guardsmen.
One managed a strangled cry for help. “Hilfe!” Help!
German echoed down the hallway as she leapt over the prone bodies of the two guardsmen to follow Ian into the kitchens. Heart pounding, she ran into the room, past Steam Matilda kneading a lump of dark brown bread upon a scarred wooden table, and darted through the door to the courtyard.
Ian pulled her to his side and closed the kitchen door while clutching a sharp knife, courtesy of the countess’ personal weaponry. Olivia prayed hand-to-hand combat wouldn’t be necessary.
The wall at her back was bone-chillingly cold, and the glacial wind scoured her face and clawed at her skirts. At some point, the sun must have shone, for the snow upon the courtyard’s cobblestones had melted, leaving behind frozen puddles and icy mud.
The drawstring of her reticule bit into the skin of her forearm. Watson, the osforare apparatus and all the punch cards and tools made the bag unwieldy and impractical. Next time, she would design a purse with a shoulder strap. Next time? She’d gone mad.
There was a shout of alarm, but the door stayed shut. Perhaps the guardsmen were too preoccupied—or sick—to follow the trail of fallen men and reach the rather obvious conclusion. Either way, lingering was a bad idea. Soon logic would return and compel the guardsmen to search the courtyard.
Wei stirred against Ian’s shoulder. “Down,” she said, struggling in Ian’s arms. “My bag. Need the… sticks.”
He slid the knife back into its sheath and lowered the girl onto unsteady feet. “Take a moment. Find your feet. That was a dosage meant for a grown man.”
Wei’s answering smile was dazzling. “I tough to kill.”
The girl hopped back and forth, from one foot to the other, testing her legs. Satisfied, she reached into her sack and pulled out two long, paper tubes pai
nted red. Sharp sticks protruded from their ends. All had long… fuses?
“Rockets?” Despite the danger, Ian grinned like a Cheshire cat.
“Yes! Distraction.” Wei pulled another item from her sack. “And matches! Come, we move fast.”
Hugging the shadows, Ian and Wei set off down the stone stairs, stopping to peek around corners. Careful of her footing, Olivia followed, listening as they discussed the best strategy for employing the rocket.
Ian lifted a fist into the air.
They froze. Olivia held her breath, doing her best to become one with the shadows as a patrol of guardsmen passed not three feet from where they stood.
Several heartbeats later, Ian lowered his arm and pointed.
Wei nodded, and he jammed the end of a sharp stick into the hard-packed ground, pointing the tip of the rocket away from the castle gates. Wei lifted a match.
Looking over his shoulder at Olivia, he whispered, “Be ready to run.”
She tightened her hands on her reticule.
With a flash of igniting phosphorus and sulfur, Wei lit the fuse.
He and Wei scuttled backward, away from the rocket, grinning at each other with childish enthusiasm, giving her a fleeting vision of what it might be like to marry such a man. To raise a family. Anything but dull. Her heart ached, yearning for a love that could no longer be denied.
A whoosh and the rocket was gone. A trail of smoke led into the air, but try as she might, Olivia could not follow the rocket’s path.
There was a loud bang, and thousands upon thousands of lights flashed, forming a bright starburst in the still-dark sky. Guardsmen yelled and ran for the ramparts, gathering behind the castle walls, crouching, conferring. For not a single one possessed a pistol. A few brave souls peeked above the wall, searching for the as-yet unseen enemy.
Ian grabbed her hand and tugged her forward. In the commotion, no one noticed the three of them running for the castle gates.
Not one sentry stood before the gate. The count’s guardsmen were strong, perhaps, but not disciplined or well-trained. She slammed into the rough, wooden gate, her reticule knocking against the wood, and ran her palms over its surface, searching in the dark for the cool steel of the lock. Though her heart pounded, the lock—large and old—presented no challenge. The pick caught, and the lock fell open with a soft thunk. She nodded to Wei.
