The Girl and the Clockwork Cat (Entangled Teen)

by Nikki Mccormack

  The sound of two pairs of feet slapping on the wet street reached them.

  “A few Lits passed by here a short time ago,” she said, shifting her feet now with the urgent need to get out of sight. “That’s probably them.”

  He looked at the hand covering the deep cut and the blood seeping down into her shirt, then glanced over his shoulder at a door standing ajar behind stack of crates. He tugged off his rings, jacket, and the tie hanging loose around his neck. “Take these and the cat through that door. Keep quiet. Don’t get into anything. I’ll take care of this.”

  “Are you Lucian Folesworth?”

  He stared hard at her then, his hand shifting on the candelabra as if he considered using it as a weapon again. “Wait for me. I have questions for you.”

  The approaching Lits were getting close. Macak darted in through the door. She took a few unsteady steps to follow then stopped, turning back to Lucian. “You might wipe the blood off his knife or they’ll wonder whose it is.”

  He gave her a shrewd look and bent to the task. She slipped through the door, shutting it softly behind her seconds before the officers charged down the street. Leaning back against the cold metal, she closed her eyes, grimacing with the brutal sting of the wound. Her heart still hammered in her chest, the wound throbbing in time, and a few quiet tears ran down her cheeks. She sank to the floor, still trembling while Macak pressed his damp body against her leg, and listened to the voices outside.

  “What happened here?” a man’s voice demanded.

  Before Lucian could answer, another voice exclaimed, “It’s bloody Dobson!”

  Officer Wells. She recognized his voice. They must have taken him off the watch at JAHF after she and Ash escaped.

  “How’d this happen?” the other officer asked with the heavy tone of assumed authority.

  “I stayed late to do inventory in that warehouse there and I heard noise outside.” Lucian sounded every bit as shaken as she felt. “I brought the candelabra with me. I’m not a big chap as you can see and nights alone here make me nervous,” he explained. “This man attacked me. I reacted. I didn’t intend to harm anyone.”

  “Nice reflexes,” Wells commented. “We thought we heard a woman scream.”

  Lucian cleared his throat and chuckled, convincingly self-conscious. “Yes, I’m afraid that was me.”

  “You’re lucky, Sir,” the other office said. “We’ve been hunting this bludger for a while. He’s extremely dangerous. Almost a shame you didn’t kill him,” he added in a lower voice.

  Maeko nodded agreement.

  “Heavy blighter,” Wells muttered. He grunted and she could imagine the slim young officer trying to heft Hatchet-face’s unconscious weight.

  “Can I be of assistance?”

  Lucian’s voice was tentative, the voice of a man who wanted to be refused, but whose sense of propriety demanded that he make the offer. For all appearances, he seemed a good sort and she had to give him credit for his handling of Hatchet-face.

  “This one’s dangerous. We’ll take it from here. Good evening to you, Sir.”

  She didn’t stay to listen to them grunt and groan as they hauled Hatchet-face away. Instead, she rose unsteadily and moved out into the dark building. It appeared to be a storage building, with shelves of machine parts lining the walls and an overflow of crates and various items stacked in rows on the floor. It was nippy, at least for someone soaked to the bone, and smelled of grease and metal shavings. Beyond a tall row of crates, a flickering light beckoned.

  With her hand still pressed over the worst part of the cut, she shuffled toward the light. A table stood tucked in just around the edge of the row of crates. Behind the table sat a solitary chair and several blankets were laid neatly out in a makeshift bed on the floor in the shadows farther back.

  Does he actually make his bed every day or does he never sleep?

  The door opened and she heard someone enter. The footsteps were light and refined, not heavy or scuffing like those of men out working late on a miserable night. Confident that Lucian returned alone, she continued her perusal of the makeshift living area with Macak’s accompaniment. He sniffed around, looking as if he couldn’t quite figure out what she found interesting about it all.

  She set the rings and tie on the table and crouched down. Pain shot through the wound, making her wince when she held a hand out to Macak. He trotted over to her, his articulated metal leg clicking on the hard floor, and pressed his head into the offered hand, purring enthusiastically.

  “Thanks for bringing help, mate.”

  The rain had cleaned his soft fur. Beneath all that dirt and grime, he had a striking black and white coat.

  “Handsome boy,” she murmured.

  The cat’s unrestrained adoration, rubbing his face into her palm repeatedly, brought a weak smile to her lips.

  “It looks as if we have a lot to discuss, such as how you came to be traveling with my cat.” Lucian stepped around them and set the candelabra down on the table.

  “You shouldn’t have let him run loose.” She turned to peer up at him, wincing when the motion sent sharp pain through the cut.

  The chastisement earned her a bemused smirk. “I lost him near a pub several nights ago. I’ve gone back every night to search for him.”

  She nodded to herself. A man who would go to such trouble for a cat couldn’t be all bad. Of course, this cat was probably worth a lot more than most cats. “If only you could talk, Macak,” she murmured. “What stories you must have.”

  “Unquestionably,” Lucian said.

  She drew away from the cat and tried to stand. Her balance failed and Lucian reached a hand out, catching her arm to keep her upright. She placed a hand on the table and nodded. He let go of her and took a few seconds to put his rings back on. When he came to the tie, he stared at it for several seconds and left it there. He did pull the jacket back on, fussily straightening the wrinkled front. After running a hand through his wet hair, as if that might improve something, he finally met her eyes again.

  “Before I delve into the mystery of the young lady who has entered my lair,” he said, sweeping his arm with a dramatic flourish to indicate their surroundings, “perhaps we should see to that wound.”

  He dug around in a corner and drew out a clean white shirt. When he gestured her closer she shook her head, already dreading the pain. He gave a stern look, stepping back into that unsolicited fatherly role and pointed at the floor in front of him. Reluctant, she stepped up to him and took her hand away from the wound. With a rather unconvincing scowl, he dipped the clean shirt in a cup on the table and dabbed at the wound through the split in her shirt. It burned.

  She twisted away. “What is that?”

  “Brandy.”

  “It burns!”

  “I’m afraid it’s that or the absinthe. I wasn’t planning to tend knife wounds tonight. Now stand still.”

  Clenching her teeth, she offered the shoulder again and gave a curt nod. He resumed his work, cleaning the area around the cut so he could see how bad it was. She took hold of the table with both hands and gripped tight, digging the little bit of fingernail she still had into the wood to keep from pulling away from his ministrations.

  “What were you planning to do, drink yourself into oblivion,” she asked, taking note of the several bottles upon the table.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but the thought had crossed my mind.” She wavered on her feet and he placed a stabilizing hand on her shoulder then pointed with his narrow nose to the bruise forming in the hollow of her throat below the shallow cuts there. “What happened there?”

  “Some friendly bloke tried to push a gun barrel through my neck.”

  He raised his brows, pausing in his cleaning. “Does that have anything to do with why you’re here?”

  She nodded.

  He began to dab at the wound again. “Perhaps we should back up a little and start with how you know who I am?”

  Pleased to have some distra
ction, she gave him a thorough account of how she had come upon Macak and lost him again. She told him about escaping JAHF with Hatchet-face, which earned her sharp scowl of disapproval. However, he did compliment her on her apparent resourcefulness, which earned him some grudging respect. When she got to the part about arriving at his flat in Airship Tower, her throat clenched and a staggering dread swept through her.

  Did he even know about his family?

  Maeko stared at Macak who sat on the chair industriously grooming himself. His tongue slipped down onto the metal of his false leg and he drew back. With his tongue still sticking out, he gave the metal appendage a disgusted look before resuming his bath.

  Lucian finished his doctoring, tying a bandage made of strips of the fine shirt, which he had disassembled with a small knife, pressing down tight around her shoulder to keep pressure on the deepest part of the cut. She relished the pain. It was easier to bear than the hollow misery swelling in her chest.

  “There. That should do it for now.” He considered his handiwork and nodded to himself. “You were just getting to my…”

  He trailed off and she looked up to find him staring at her. Only then did she notice that tears streamed down her cheeks. She stared back at him. How was she supposed to tell him his wife and child were dead? This shouldn’t be her responsibility.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  When she shook her head, his brow furrowed. Then, all at once, the color drained from his face, making the circles under his eyes stand out even darker. Macak scurried out of the way when he sank onto the chair.

  “My wife? My daughter?”

  She could see in his eyes that he already suspected the truth. Still, she shook her head, trying to deny it for him, the tightness in her throat painful enough now to rival the knife wound.

  Is it harder to lose everything when you start with so much?

  “Please. You must tell me.”

  Her legs felt weak. She moved back to sit on a crate and stared hard at the one burning candle. With a sick feeling in her gut, she told him about the dead woman and little girl she had seen lying in the room. He made her describe them in detail, needing to verify every feature of the two bodies.

  “I never thought he would hurt them.” His voice cracked.

  He put his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands, his fingers clenching in his hair. She watched uncomfortably as his shoulders started to shake and small sounds of misery emerged from behind his hands.

  Listening to his sobs made her tears dry up. Something, perhaps some flicker of her mother’s empathy that had snuck into her when she wasn’t being diligent, made her get up and place a hand on his shoulder. One of his hands clutched at hers, holding it tight while he cried. The contact felt awkward and somehow wonderful at the same time, as if someone actually needed her. She stood there, letting him take what comfort he could from the contact for as long as he wanted it.

  When he finally let go and wiped at his eyes, she crouched down next to the table and looked up at him.

  “You know your partner did this, don’t you?”

  He nodded, his face a sunken, pale mask of despair. He laid one hand on the table and she took it in hers, a gesture that earned her his full attention.

  “There is more I need to tell you then, and a lot of lives hang on what we do next.” She assumed at this point that she would be a part of whatever happened next. Over her head or not, she was inescapably wrapped up in this now.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “This Detective Emeraude, she said Thaddeus hired her?” Lucian, his eyes rimmed in red and his sharp nose an unflattering shade of pink, had collected himself enough to listen to the rest of her story, stopping her several times to clarify details.

  “Yes. If Thaddeus is your brother, that is,” Maeko replied, stroking the warm comforting ball of cat curled up and purring on her lap. He joined her when she sat down on the crate and his reassuring presence helped her recount a more accurate run of events to Lucian than she had given anyone else. It was only fair to give him all of the facts, since he already lost so much, and his next actions would help decide the outcome of the convoluted mess.

  “A woman detective,” he muttered to himself. “How out of character. Thaddeus never had much respect for professional women. I suppose he didn’t get my telegram if he hired someone to find me.” His eyes lit upon her and he shrugged. “It seems I owe you some explanation. I came here to hide from Joel. As you probably know, he is my business partner in Clockwork Enterprises.”

  Her stomach clenched and a lump formed in her throat. It was easy to forget who he was in this setting, but this man could sell his smile for more money than she would see in her lifetime. His inventions included numerous remarkable gadgets designed to do everything from mixing ingredients in a kitchen to feeding massive forges in the some of the big foundries. He was the man behind the Clockwork Enterprises brand she saw everywhere.

  More importantly, helping this man could be the key to finally having enough money to free her mother.

  On the less positive side, his company had backed the Literati, helping them face off against and crush the last rising Luddite movement. From there, with the support of many such wealthy benefactors, the Lits had gained enough political and social momentum to win control of the city government, absorbing the City of London Police into their own team of law enforcement officers and pushing out the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Police Service. Supporting Lits didn’t make him a friend, but perhaps this turn of events might make him an ally.

  Macak licked her hand with his rough tongue, reminding her to keep petting him. She obliged. “I don’t understand how someone like you ends up hiding in a warehouse. Why did Mr. Jacard turn on you? Was it the weapons deal?”

  He gave her an appraising look. “You know more than I would expect for someone in your position.”

  She shrugged. Let him think her clever and worldly. He would be less inclined to try to deceive her that way.

  “Sometimes all status earns you is more powerful enemies.” He leaned back in his chair and stared at the candle. “A few months ago, a man came to my office and offered to buy my company. When I refused, he became enraged. He threatened to have me put down for my insolence and assured me that he had the means to make it happen. I had him removed from the facility, but I was shaken by his conviction, so I told Joel about the incident. Joel expressed concern, worrying over what would become of my family and the company if something were to happen to me. He convinced me to have a will written up leaving him the company in the event of my untimely death, with a regular support stipend provided to my wife and daughter.”

  Tears came to Lucian’s eyes and he closed them. For a few minutes, he rubbed at his temples and she could see his jaw working as he struggled not to break down. She stroked Macak and waited. When he had his emotions in check, he continued.

  “I didn’t realize what a fool I was until I saw the man who offered to buy the company staggering drunk outside of a pub as my coach passed by one night. He wore common clothes, not the fine attire he’d worn to our meeting, and appeared quite shocked to see me. When I pressed him, he admitted that he had been paid handsomely by Joel to threaten me as part of some elaborate joke.

  “I didn’t want to believe it. Joel and I have been friends as long as I can remember. I couldn’t let it go, though. With a careful bit of eavesdropping and investigation, I discovered not a joke, but an elaborate plot by him to arrange an accident in the factory. He wanted it done quickly so he could resurrect the Literati weapons contract I vetoed and, to balance that with a show of the company’s compassionate side, he would unveil and take credit for another invention I’d been working on.”

  “The clockwork leg?”

  He smiled at the cat. “Yes, the clockwork prosthesis. I was devastated and, frankly, terrified. I didn’t know what to do or who to trust, so I took my weapons sketches, the blueprints for the leg, and Macak, and snuck away one night, intendi
ng to hide out until I found out who I could trust and prove what Joel was planning. I never thought…” His voice cracked and he swallowed. “Joel always fancied my wife. They got on famously and he coddled little Elizabeth as if she were his own daughter. I never thought he would hurt them, especially if Anna knew nothing of my whereabouts. I would have brought them with me if I had even suspected.”

  While Lucian battled another wave of emotion, she focused on Macak, pondering a heart shaped patch of black fur on the back of one white leg. She closed her eyes, just for a moment, and fell asleep.

  Macak made a squeak of protest when Lucian ejected him from her lap and prodded Maeko to her feet. She barely woke as he guided her to the blankets at the back of the room.

  “You won’t be able to move your neck soon if I let you sleep there,” he said.

  She muttered a few weak protests and he used steady pressure on her good shoulder to drive her down to the bedroll. She fell asleep again almost before he finished throwing a blanket over her.

  When he woke her later, pain nagged at her and deep weariness tried to hold her down in the welcome embrace of much needed sleep. Lucian propped her up in the chair and handed her a cup. She took it, groggily raising it to her lips, and choked when licorice flavored fire burned down the back of her throat. She coughed. Spears of pain shot through her wound. It felt hot and swollen under the bandage.

  “Sorry about that.” He snatched the cup and set it down. “I thought it might help you wake up.”

  “Trying to kill a person does tend to make them more alert,” she rasped, her throat still on fire.

  “Merely a swallow of absinthe. I’m certain you won’t die from it.” He held a white shirt out to her, no longer wearing one beneath his frock coat. “Here. You can’t go running around the city covered in blood. This will be much too big, but it is clean.” He frowned at the garment. “Well, cleaner and more intact than yours.”

  “It’s nicer than most of the togs I’ve worn,” she answered, but didn’t move to accept it. “I’m not leaving. I need your help.”