The Girl and the Clockwork Cat (Entangled Teen)

by Nikki Mccormack

  Since the Literati had taken charge of local government operations, some street development and sewer maintenance was cut back in favor of cleaning criminals off the street, which mostly meant the homeless population because they were easier to apprehend than the truly dangerous ones. This effort resulted in the more able-bodied homeless seeking refuge with pirates, increasing the rebel numbers while neglected streets became rutted mires and sickness ran rampant through poor districts. At least this street wasn’t the sucking sludge she had to slog through in some of the slums and Macak, who’d grown weary of the satchel, padded along with an almost magical ability to find dry spots in the damp.

  Maeko trudged along the mid-morning street in a blur of exhaustion. With her new used clothes, she stood out less and local traffic, which had died down since the early morning rush, paid little attention to them. She returned the favor, distracted by the ache in her feet and the vast emptiness gnawing at her stomach, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since around noon the previous day. The need for sleep pressed ever more insistent, tugging heavy at her eyelids. How long had it been since she’d had a decent sleep?

  Her foot caught the edge of a rut and she stumbled. Someone caught her arm. She started, expecting an officer. When she looked up into Ash’s pale green eyes, she relaxed, though her pulse would take some time to slow down again.

  “You all right?”

  He’d been so obliging, following along and mimicking everything she did to get them through more heavily patrolled areas of the city, that she’d almost forgotten about him.

  “I’m fine.” She glanced at the hand still holding her arm and he flushed, snatching it away. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.” He took a small step out to one side. “You seem to be fading.”

  She shrugged off his awkward attention. “I haven’t had a good kip or much to eat in the last few days.”

  “I’m sure Mrs. Blackwood will let us stay for a while. We can rest and get some food there.”

  Rather than express her cynical view on the likelihood of that, she turned to the task of putting one foot in front of the other until they reached a part of the neighborhood where his strides loosened out and the tension in his shoulders began to release.

  “Are we getting close?”

  He nodded.

  “Splendid,” she muttered. “You lead. I’ll sleepwalk for a bit.”

  His grin was tentative, as if he thought she might be joking but wouldn’t be surprised to find her capable of snatching a brief kip while walking. He accepted the lead at her gesture, but took to casting frequent glances over his shoulder, perhaps to check if she had indeed fallen asleep or, more likely, to make sure she didn’t slip away.

  He didn’t trust her outright. That was something she couldn’t help liking about him, in addition to his eyes and his smile. Only a complete fool trusted so fast and she took comfort in knowing she wasn’t stuck with one of those. Fools made noise. Fools got you caught in bad situations. Fools trusted without thinking.

  He glanced over his shoulder again and caught her staring at him. He grimaced, his brows pinching together. “What now?”

  Had she said something aloud, perhaps something about fools? “What do you mean?”

  “You were looking at me like you wanted to skin me alive or something equally fun.”

  “Oh. Was I? I was thinking about someone else,” she evaded, her cheeks warming.

  “I’m glad to hear that. I might be more comfortable if you walked beside me for now.” He regarded her with wary scrutiny, and she almost smiled at that, but she didn’t want him reading anything into it.

  Don’t get him thinking you like him. That would be foolish, true or not. “If it’ll move things along.”

  Rather than make her speed up to join him, he slowed his pace until she started to pass him and then resumed normal speed. Chaff never would have been so polite, but Chaff trusted her to manage herself. She wasn’t sure if she should appreciate the consideration or take offense at it.

  She grinned. Dear Chaff. He would think she’d gone barmy if he knew what she was up to now, and she would be tempted to agree.

  “Why did you change your mind?”

  A sparkle of nerves greeted his question. “About what?”

  “I got the feeling you meant to ditch me back there in the city. Why’d you change your mind?”

  “I wasn’t going to ditch you. I just wanted to get clear of the Lits.”

  “Liar. I suppose it’s the money I promised you.”

  She didn’t argue. It wasn’t the only reason, but it was the only one he needed to know about. “You work?”

  He gave her a curious look.

  “Your hands are rough,” she explained.

  He flushed and rubbed at a callous on one thumb. “It’s from helping my dad work on the airships.”

  “That’s right.” That explained his rough hands and the upper body strength.

  He touched her arm to get her attention and stopped. “There’s the house.”

  The house he pointed at was a charming cream-colored residence on the opposite side of the street with two overflowing flower baskets providing a burst of cheery color on either side of the door. That wasn’t what seized her attention, however. A familiar coach drawn by two dirty white horses rattled down the street toward them. Another coach rolled past them heading in the opposite direction, hiding them from the detective’s coach long enough to duck out of sight.

  “Into the bushes. Quick!”

  Ash’s gaze tracked to the coach. He blanched, leapt over the low iron fence around the yard next to them, and crouched in the bushes along the front of the house. She followed, Macak on her heels, and tucked herself in next to Ash. He smelled pleasant, like clean wood shavings and home-cooked food, even after all the running they had done. Shifting a little closer to take advantage of the comfort of another warm body, she tucked a somewhat resistant Macak into the satchel and settled in to watch the coach.

  It pulled up in front of the cream-colored house. Em stepped out and strode up to the front door with her two henchmen shadowing her. Did the detective feel half as tired as she did? Had she taken time to sleep and eat? It seemed unlikely if she done enough investigating to locate Ash’s brother and get there ahead of them.

  Em rapped the door, the crack of boney knuckles on the wood carrying across the street. The door opened. Whoever answered remained inside, just out of view. After a few minutes of conversation too quiet for them to hear, the three entered the house. Ash leaned far forward now, poised as if he meant to go after them. She placed a hand on his arm and he sank back a little, but she could feel his muscles tremble under her fingers.

  Several tense minutes later, Em and the two men emerged with a young boy hobbling along between them. The stiff swing of his right leg suggested some manner of false appendage hidden under his trousers.

  “That’s Sam,” Ash hissed.

  “Get your hands off my son!”

  Ash sucked in a quick breath. Tension poured off him, rattling her nerves. The detective and her companions turned to face a familiar man walking down the pavement toward them. Garrett stopped a few houses away, keeping well out of range. Maeko could see him around the back of the coach. Sam started toward him, making it only a couple of halting steps before Em caught his shirt collar and drew him stumbling back.

  Ash began to move and Maeko grabbed his arm. Turning a fiery glare on her, he yanked his arm away and she pounced, grabbing hold with both hands this time when he started to leave the cover of the bushes. Stiff foliage scratched at her arms, but she held on, throwing herself back against his superior weight. When he glared at her again, a crazed fury lighting his eyes, she gave him her best pleading look. Chaff insisted that look could melt a glacier. In this case, it at least made Ash hesitate.

  “My dad doesn’t even know where I am. I have to let him know I’m all right.”

  “All evidence points at your dad’s guilt right now. If all three of you
get hauled in, you won’t be any help to him at all,” she whispered, willing him to see the sense in her words.

  He lowered his gaze, a tortured look twisting his face, sorrow and rage creating a storm in his pale eyes. Finally, he gave a sharp nod and crouched beside her. “You’re right. Free, we can try to find a way to prove his innocence.”

  We can what? Panic gripped her. “I didn’t mean…” She trailed off when Em’s voice rang out.

  “Captain Garrett, I presume.” The detective’s tone was acidic with false civility. “Why don’t you join us? We can all go for a little ride downtown together. Your other boy is already there.”

  “You can’t just take my sons.”

  She patted a pocket on her long coat. “According to this piece of paper in my pocket, I can arrest and detain any and all persons who might have information relating to this investigation.”

  “They’re only kids,” Garrett growled.

  “No. They’re your kids,” Em countered. “Now let’s go.”

  “I don’t think so.” Garrett backed up several steps. He glanced over one shoulder then honed in on Sam with a despairing look. He knew he couldn’t get to the boy and the knowledge tore at him.

  Amos took hold of Sam, moving the boy out of the way, and Em flipped her coat back, reaching for the pistol.

  “Go now.” Ash hissed under his breath. “Run.”

  Garrett took a few more steps back.

  Ash leaned forward again.

  Tension built to a painful pressure in Maeko’s chest.

  I should let him go. She glanced at Ash. His hands clenched to fists by his sides, the muscles in his jaw tightened and there was a shine of desperation in his eyes.

  “Stay here. Be ready to run,” Maeko whispered.

  She handed him the satchel then pulled a small knife out of a pocket sewn into her shoe and slipped out of the bushes. When she glanced back to make sure he wasn’t following, Ash was staring at her as if she were deranged, his mouth open as though he meant to say something but couldn’t find the words.

  Perhaps I have gone barmy.

  Amos, Reuben, and the coachman were watching the developing drama between Em and Garrett. Em had the pistol out now, aimed at Garrett. Maeko slunk across the street toward the carriage, thankful for the lack of traffic. Sam lurched forward, grabbing for Em’s arm and Amos pulled him further away.

  “Last chance,” Em warned.

  The click of the pistol cocking was loud, like the tick of a clock when time is running out.

  Maeko’s skin prickled in anticipation of a gunshot. She scurried over to the front of the coach. The horses shifted restlessly in their traces, reacting to the tension in the air. What would they do if a gun fired? Her gaze dropped to their iron-shod hooves and her throat tightened. She crept up between them. One horse snorted, his nostrils flaring and the whites of his eyes showing. She closed her eyes for a second, breathing in the smells of salty sweat and hay.

  Please don’t panic.

  Somehow, the idea of being crushed to pulp under the muddy hooves of frightened horses ranked right up with being stuck under an ashbin on her list of ways she didn’t want to die. The blasted beasts were unpredictable as best she could tell and frightfully strong.

  Using the sharp little blade, she hacked at their harnesses, cutting them free of the coach. The leather was old and cracking, easy to cut. Fear of being seen made prickles run up and down her spine. She worked as fast as she dared, a cool sweat breaking out on her scalp and her heart drumming in her ears.

  She set the center pole down and glanced up at the coachman as she stepped over it. He still watched the drama. The nearest horse’s tail swept out, catching her with a stinging lash across the face. Her toe caught the pole, knocking it toward one horse and the animal bunched, ready to bolt. She held her breath. When they didn’t move she stepped clear and slunk back toward the hiding place. A gunshot blasted out. Her heart jumped and she dove in beside a low brick wall, spinning around to watch.

  The horses tensed, their heads jerking up. One rose in a half rear, but they didn’t run.

  The shot took Garrett in the upper leg and he reeled back with the impact. He spun and started a clumsy, uneven sprint toward the nearest cross street.

  “Get him,” Em shouted.

  Rueben started after Garrett. Sam fought to get away now with desperate ferocity considering his size and handicap. Em turned to help Amos with him, catching one flailing fist before it could club Amos in the nose.

  Snarling to herself, Maeko yanked off a shoe and threw it, striking the near horse in the hip. The animal reared again and lunged free of the coach. The other horse followed. In that at least, horses were predictable. If one moved, the other would try to follow. Without the carriage holding them back, they bolted, their shod hooves splashing up sprays of mud as they sprinted down the street.

  Reuben spun around at the coachman’s cry of alarm forgetting his quarry. Em held fast to Sam’s left arm, her head snapping around toward the sound. Her face brightened to an almost luminescent red. Then her gaze tracked to the discarded shoe lying where the horses should have been standing hitched and scanned across the street.

  It was time to move.

  Maeko leapt up from her hiding place and began to run, lamenting her shoe. Damp grit-coated pavement ground against the foot through her threadbare sock. Ash leapt over the fence when she sprinted past and fell in beside her. She could hear Em yelling for someone to get the horses, to go after them, to hold onto Sam, to go after Garrett. In the end, all the detective could manage was a final hoarse cry of frustration.

  Another win for the street rat.

  What mattered most now was getting away. It would be nice, however, if Ash with Macak and Garrett also benefited from the loss of her shoe. Sam was a hopeless cause for now. Even his father and brother had to realize that.

  She ran through the neighborhood until her foot stung with every step and she was stumbling with fatigue, then she jumped a low wall around the front of a quiet tan house and slumped to the ground there. Several seconds later, Ash landed beside her, bumping her shoulder with his heel as he came over. She was too tired to complain. Macak, however, vocalized displeasure from within the satchel when Ash tossed it back to her. She let the cat out to quiet him then glanced at her companion.

  His face fell, sinking into utter misery, and he slumped back against the cool stone wall, drawing his knees to his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, running his hands into his hair and clenching them into fists. The muscles in his jaw jumped when he ground his teeth. He didn’t say a word or make any sound beyond his labored breathing from the run, but the silence made his pain more potent.

  It was strange to watch this intense display of emotion, the same way it was awkward to watch someone cry, but it also sparked fierce jealousy. A hunger really, for the kind of relationship he had with his father and brother. She didn’t think anyone felt that strongly about her. Chaff might miss her if she disappeared forever, though she didn’t imagine he’d lose that much sleep over it. After all, Chaff advised that you shouldn’t get too fond of a mate on the streets because you never knew when they’d get nicked or end up holding up a stone. She tried to follow that advice. It was easy, except when it came to Chaff.

  You’re a rat. No one cares about rats.

  She would never have what Ash had. Her family was forever broken. She couldn’t watch that happen to his.

  “Did the…” Ash’s voice caught and he swallowed hard a few times before trying again. “I couldn’t see past the coach. Did she shoot him?”

  Maeko took a few deep breaths, as much to slow her breathing as to take control of her emotions before answering. “She hit him in the leg.”

  He grimaced. “Did he get away?”

  Why did he think she had the answers to everything? “I didn’t see. I was too busy running.”

  Ash clenched his teeth, his breath hitching while he struggled to maintain composure.

  She
made her tone gentle. “If he did, he probably won’t get far.”

  Ash stood and climbed out from behind the wall to stalk back into the street. She followed, scuffing along behind and trying to ignore the growling of her stomach. Perhaps that hadn’t been the right thing to say. The truth rarely was.

  “Where are they going to take Sam? JAHF?”

  She forced a brief jog to catch up, limping on her sore foot. Macak trotted along with them, looking much too calm for the situation. “No. That’s just where they take us at night. At this hour they’ll take him straight to a stray house.”

  He spun and she staggered back a few steps, startled by the rage that darkened his features. “A what?”

  Macak leapt up onto her shoulders and stared at Ash. “One of the Literati orphanages. They keep orphans and street rats there until they decide which workhouse or reform facility is best for them. They won’t hurt him.”

  “He’ll be terrified. I can’t leave him. He’s my responsibility. How do we find him?”

  This was getting too dangerous, but they did have a deal and he needed the help. She dug at the dirt with the toe of her remaining shoe. “I know someone who could help, but,” she gave him the pleading look again, since it had worked well enough last time, “I can’t keep up this way. If you want my help, you have to let me get some food and sleep.”

  His arm swept up so fast that she flinched and Macak dug in to keep his balance. Tiny pinpricks on her shoulders.

  Ash pointed back the way they had come. “My dad is out there somewhere shot in the leg and my brother is in that tramp’s custody and you want to stop for food!”

  “Yes, please. And sleep. You want my help or not?”

  His eyes narrowed and she felt her temper rising up through the weariness, ready to fight him or desert him if he didn’t give. Then he looked down. She followed his gaze and saw that her hands were shaking. She drew them to her chest and clenched them together to still them. His gaze dropped further, to her shoeless foot, and he deflated. He held his hands out in front of him then, staring at his palms as if they might hold the answers.