“He was bleeding.” I stumbled with her, unable to catch my breath.
“Shh, Charlotte,” Aunt Sadie pulled toward the home. “Keep walking.”
We neared the entrance to the vast home amid the murmurs of others. Passing through the tracer gun sensor, I forced myself to greet the armed attendant.
The Union Security Soldier, sharp in his charcoal-grey uniform, handed back my citizen papers without a word. An embroidered phoenix in silken black thread soared over his heart. More soldiers fanned out on the walk directing the onlookers away. They stalked the streets in small clusters, pushed past commuters, and confronted those who stopped to stare.
Whipping rotors stirred the air and vibrated through me. Security aero craft hovered overhead, the bulbous silhouettes of their blimps dark against the sky. Dirigible pilots trained powerful lamp beams down on the road, the lights sweeping to and fro. Above it all, behind the clouds, nearly touching the stars, the Tesla Dome’s protective grid glowed purple against the inky night.
“Come, dear,” Aunt Sadie urged, raising her gloved hand and snapping open her lady’s fan. The Battenberg lace obstructed my view of the commotion on the street. “Eyes ahead, Charlotte.”
“What was wrong with that man?” I gasped.
“Let it go, Charlotte,” Aunt Sadie murmured. “We don’t want to be seen as having caused any trouble. They said they have taken care of the situation. So be it.”
Her tight smile and stiff gait made me hold my tongue. Fevered screams reverberated down the dark road, but I kept walking, wiping my brow with my gloved hand. I remembered the man in the dark coat who’d watched from the walkway. I could not see him anywhere and I wondered. Did he know what that was? Had he tried to stop it?
2
I concentrated on slowing my heart as we entered the home of Lord and Lady Rothfair.
Meticulously restored after the quakes, it glinted with filigree designs done in precious metals, making the walls sparkle next to the dingy streets and citizens not allowed inside.
The annual Unity Ball signaled the start of the autumn holiday parties, and by the look of the crowd gathered, all of New Society’s most respected families were in attendance.
As I entered the awning-covered doors, I took a calming breath before arranging my face into a pleasant smile. Though I’d attended soirees here in the past, the vista upon entering never ceased to amaze me.
The Rothfairs embodied the height of fashion and propriety, and their home reflected this. A large chandelier with incandescents in the shape of candles glowed over an inlaid dance floor. Sweet scents drifted out of vents set in the ceiling, the artificial aroma of candle wax, a nostalgic nod to olden days. Above the fireplace, snaking out from under the marble mantel, brass music tubes pumped out a minuet for the couples to sway and talk to. More filament lights wavered in front of silver sconces casting water-like ripples along the ceiling and the blue curtains.
Mounted on the silk-covered walls, gilt frames held photographs depicting the triumphs of our new government after The Great Calamity. The first raising of our new government’s flag, a black phoenix, the symbol of our rise from near destruction, hovered above a map of our thirteen remaining city-states. Another showed our Governors, gathered to draft the Articles of The Peaceful Union, saving our country from the conflict and panic that reigned after the quakes. The last photograph made me pause.
Nikola Tesla stood at the scene of a massive construction. He held plans to the enormous steam works that powered the grid domes hovering over every capital city in the Union. From east to west, the Americas stood riddled with miles-deep chasms that burned perpetually with escaping fumes. Tesla’s filtering system was the only thing keeping us from choking to death on the poisonous gas. He’d saved us, and the photographer captured the moment perfectly. The glass faceplate of Tesla’s gas mask framed his intense gaze, his attention directed just off camera, as poison vapor swirled at his feet. Mighty Tesla, the brass plate read underneath the portrait.
I took in a shaking breath and continued on, determined to behave for Aunt Sadie’s sake.
We moved forward into the ballroom, and my aunt greeted her friends with the grace of a woman who had not just seen a hideous creature moments before. I longed to possess that strength of poise. Sadie Blackburn, my father’s spinster sister, was as childless as I was motherless; a tragedy and a comfort to us both.
After my mother passed, when I reached the age of New Society, my father relied heavily on Sadie’s connections to arrange the proper introductions and gain invitations to the right parties. Rocked by the near destruction of our way of life, New Society clung even tighter to the old traditions despite the waves of science underpinning our existence.
I understood that this treacherous and tangled road to a proper husband was my expected journey. So dutifully, I nodded when I should and smiled when I was expected to, ever grateful for the generosity of my attentive aunt. Yet, as I looked out over the sea of people’s faces who turned their attention to our arrival, I could not help but feel increasingly lost.
Not even when I attended Sunday service did I feel grounded. Church seemed the same as any other gathering; with more concern over what to wear and where to sit than anything else. A familiar hollow settled in my heart, and it squeezed the sorrow I held there.
There must be more. As in the stories of Jericho and Gideon. Does that kind of purpose and passion truly exist? Underneath all the surface beauty and smiles, is there anything of substance? Is there anything at all that really matters?
My thoughts returned to my father, the one sure and steady truth in my life. His lack of aether missives set my nerves tingling. It was not like him to be gone without word. Fingers finding the gears of my opera glasses, I clicked them back and forth, troubled.
Aunt Sadie’s disapproving tsk brought me back from my musing. She tapped my hands with her closed fan and raised a single brow at the dark smear on my otherwise pristine satin glove. “A lady’s hands should not be marred with the grease of springs and sprockets, Charlotte.”
“Sorry, Aunt Sadie.” I veered away from her, passing a table set with a vast array of sweets and savories. But when I slowed long enough to spy the red gelatin mold, usually my favorite, the color reminded me of the ragged and bloody face of that creature, and the resulting tumble of my stomach quelled my appetite. Still feeling brittle, unable to calm my nerves, I gave up on food. I positioned myself next to a bamboo chair and welcomed the cover offered by a large-leafed plant set in a gilded pot. It afforded me a view of the room without drawing too much attention. With the ball so crowded, no one would take note of my absence, least of all Aunt Sadie, who was gossiping with her friends.
A few minutes later, not nearly enough time, her exasperated look forced me from my hiding space and I agreed to dance with Cornelius Rothfair. He entertained me with charming anecdotes from his gap year spent visiting the other city-states. His blonde hair and bright eyes did make him handsome, and he really was both delightful and gracious. His attention, though unexpected, certainly seemed to make my peers and family happy.
I did the best I could to feel whatever it was I was supposed to feel when he gazed at me. I even found it easier to censor my answers before speaking. If I simply repeated the last word he said in the form of a question, Cornelius kept up his end of the conversation without pause.
Our time together required very little interaction on my part, and I told myself that it was quite calming. I pushed the incident with the bloody man from my mind, determined to be pleasant this evening for Aunt Sadie’s sake. It was a few moments before I realized that Cornelius was still talking.
“And the Dakota Dome is quite dangerous to visit. It has aftershocks rather frequently. I was there for the monument dedication at Black Hills and, during one particularly savage jolt, the punch sloshed right out of my glass. You know they even have an old cavitation engine on display?”
“Really?” Small hairs stood up on my neck. “It�
��s not still operable is it?”
“No, silly.” He patted my hand. “And I was miles from the volcanic chains. They’re barely active as it is.”
“But they could erupt again. I’ve heard the chain runs deeper and farther than we know.”
“That is propaganda put out by the Europeans,” he sniffed. “Our scientists say it is impossible. It’s been a decade.”
I’d upset him and wasn’t quite sure how I’d accomplished that. I stared at my hands, fussing with the wrinkles in my gloves. Pleasantries. Stick to pleasantries. “So you enjoyed your travels, then? Did you meet any interesting people?”
“I did. Of course I did.” He raised his glass at a passing friend before continuing. “I dined on several occasions with the Governor of Minnesota.”
“You ventured that far north?” Now I was interested. I’d never even left New York’s dome, let alone hop-scotched across territories still riddled with rubble. “What is it like?”
“Well, cold and desolate, some might say, but quite beautiful in its own way.” His gaze took on a far-off look. “You will have to see for yourself.”
“Pardon?”
“I am all but assured a post with the Union Security Bureau. I’ll have my pick of posts in two years’ time; the city dome of my choosing.”
“Of your choosing?” I queried, smiling.
“Or that of my bride’s,” he said and held my gaze.
“Oh...” I smoothed my skirts avoiding his eyes. A ripple of uneasiness tore through me as I struggled with what to say. Thankfully, someone called his name, and he looked away. I sucked in a shaking breath.
My father wished me to marry well. He and Aunt Sadie worked so hard for me to have opportunities. If I didn’t become a wife soon, all of my father’s wealth and property would pass to his distant cousin upon his death. I would remain forever dependent upon their generosity, much like my aunt. So when Cornelius moved again for permission to call, I politely accepted despite mixed feelings.
“Will you still join me tomorrow for tea?” I offered.
“I can’t wait.” Cornelius favored me with an eager smile. “Perhaps even a stroll, if that is not too forward of me?”
I nodded, making sure to smile. “Sounds lovely.”
“I have something for you,” he said and reached into his waist-coat pocket. He opened his gloved palm. A pin, the kind worn on the lapel, shone in the incandescents. It was a beautiful abstract rendering of a phoenix done in gold and black enamel. “To a sure and strong future.”
I stood stone still as he affixed it to the lace cuff of my sleeve. To my right, Aunt Sadie beamed as she tried to pretend she was not watching us.
Cornelius looked down at me, his gaze intense.
I realized I should say something. “I’m honored to wear it.” I wished desperately that I meant it, for his sake as well as mine. He deserved to be loved with passion. Cornelius was everything that a beau ought to be. His family was both well connected within The Peaceful Union and wealthy. I swayed a bit on my feet, the room closing in.
“Are you feeling well?” Cornelius offered his gloved hand. “Would you like some punch?”
“Yes, please,” I said, letting him lead me to a nearby chair. I forced a smile. “It’s only the heat, I’m sure.”
“I’ll just be a moment,” he said, lifting my hand to his lips, and dutifully went to find the punch.
As soon as he turned his back, however, the need to escape overcame my sense of propriety, and I hurried back to the plant-shaded corner. A coil of guilt wound in my stomach. Proper and gracious Cornelius…why didn’t the thought of becoming his wife render me ecstatic? Surely my own preservation should engender some positive emotion. I scowled, frustrated. Did I really want to traipse through the jungle or gallop across the Sahara sands? Those were the imaginings of a childhood spent listening to my father’s adventures. Dreams better left behind.
Jumping at a cacophonous crash nearby, I turned, taking in the shattered goblets at Cornelius’s feet.
A server girl stood before him mortified, the dark blue work dress highlighting the pale look of fear on her young face. The tendrils of her strawberry-blonde hair trembled at her temples. I knew her.
Conversations fell away, all eyes turning to the mess in the center of the room.
“I saw you looking for it,” Cornelius barked. Bending forward, he ripped a wadded up piece of paper from her hand. Unraveling the note, he read it with pursed lips. “It’s a message from one of them!”
“No sir,” she stammered. “I only thought it rubbish and meant to toss—”
“You’re lying,” Cornelius lunged, only to be stopped at the last moment by his father’s hand at his shoulder.
“What is this about, Cornelius?” Lord Rothfair asked in his low tone. Tall, his light hair barely graying at the temples, his gaze narrowed at her. His perfectly waxed mustache twitched as he waited.
“She reached under the table for this,” Cornelius handed his father the note. “It’s from those…those traitors.”
The exchanged glance between father and son chilled me as their stance shifted.
“Sir…” she licked her lips, hands trembling as she looked to me.
I stepped back, my head shaking minutely.
Face falling, she turned to them. “Please believe me. I know nothing of this.”
“Sedition,” Cornelius hissed. “Traitors against the Union. She must be—”
Lord Rothfair stopped him with a look. He grabbed her by the smock lifting her to her toes. “I have given your family the benefit of rumors, but this…” He shook the paper in her face. His voice took on a cold, even tone. “Clean this up and return to your quarters until you are summoned.” He kicked a long shard with a polished shoe. “Now!”
“I’ll just run and get some work gloves—”
“It is my concern that you will most certainly run.” Lord Rothfair’s face went slack with ire. “You’ll gather the pieces this instant and return to quarters, or I will have you escorted outside the dome immediately. We’ll see how you fare without the generosity of the Union you seem to loathe so much.”
“Sir, please, no!” She trembled, her eyes widening. She crawled on her knees, scooping at the jagged pieces with her bare hands. She slipped in the punch, gashing her hand. Smears of blood marred the crystal as tears streamed down her face. She used the hem of her dress to mop up the spilled wine, utter humiliation on her features.
Lord Rothfair turned from the girl, motioning for Cornelius to follow. They strolled away toward a group of men.
All around me, guests cast disgusted glances at the worker, tittering and shaking their heads.
A slow sickness pulled at my stomach.
She scooped the last pieces of glass into her apron, crying as she skulked away.
Another worker appeared with a fresh tray of goblets as if the first had never existed.
Rothfair motioned for the server and took a glass of champagne. Holding it aloft, the room silenced, all eyes on him. “To The Peaceful Union,” he said.
“A sure and strong future,” the crowd answered with raised glasses.
Uttered so often, the words left my lips even as my gaze went to the blood smeared on the polished floor.
From his father’s side, Cornelius caught my eye, his chin tilting upwards, full of pride.
I should have helped her, but how? What if she really was a traitor? How would I look then? Hands sweaty, I stepped in the direction she had gone only to stop at the look of desperation on Aunt Sadie’s face.
“No, Charlotte,” she mouthed. “Please.”
I turned, frustrated. Pursing my lips, hands balled at my sides, I held my tongue. I walked in a circle unsure of what to do, finally leaning against the far wall, panting away the guilt knotting my stomach. With a furtive glance at Aunt Sadie, currently engaged with her friends, I reached for the silken fan at my wrist making sure Lord Rothfair and Cornelius did not notice. I snapped my wrist, flicking it
open, and I used my thumb to depress a small lever near the end of the handle. A minute barb pushed up from the end of the fan, nearly invisible to the casual observer. I gaped, surprised that my device worked as I’d imagined while drawing the plans in my father’s lab. I only brought it tonight to see if my addition could pass unnoticed by Aunt Sadie. Never did I imagine an occasion in which I would really use it.
I eyed the passing group of people still muttering amongst themselves and spotted Cornelius’s friend, Jasper, near the buffet. I aimed, releasing the dart as I passed him. His hand slapped to his neck, lurching as he reacted to the sting and toppling the silver punch bowl as he grappled for balance. It spilled along the polished floor causing others to slip and slide as they hurried to help him.
“Oh, no. No, no, no.” I froze, shocked at how terribly things had escalated. I meant him only to yelp, as if stung by an insect, to call attention away from me.
As guests near him struggled to help, I rushed behind the melee, down a narrow corridor, and back through the butler’s pantry to the kitchen. I had only tinkered with the fan for fun, but to see it serve a purpose made me long to tell my father.
Obsessed with small measures of defense since surviving the quakes, I knew he thought me odd, yet in his kindness he supported my inventing. Bringing me books and tools only earned him earfuls from his sister, my Aunt Sadie, but I knew he would be happy to hear how my latest idea worked. Even after poor Jasper’s tumble.
All triumph over my clever deeds fled when I saw the trail of blood leading to the serving girl in the corner of the kitchen. I’d let this happen. Behind me, Cornelius’s voice sounded irritated as he asked after me. I couldn’t get caught back here. He couldn’t think I was stepping out of line. Not after what happened with the soldier outside.
But she looked over at me with red puffy eyes.
I pushed the worry back and went to her.
3
Moira sat on a wooden crate in the corner of the bustling kitchen. Another serving girl kneeled before her and tried frantically to stem the bleeding of the gash in her hand.
The Tremblers Page 2
