A Clockwork Christmas

by Nina S. Gooden

  Sliding the last of her buttons home, she turned to face him. “Do you have a better idea, then? I’m open to suggestions, my lord, but as of right now, I’m our only way to get even close. Andrew had to have kept the Orb on his person for several days. He would have needed to take it to the place he planned to use it in order to extract my power from it.”

  “How do you know he’s already done that?”

  Olyve held out her hand. After making sure she still had her gloves on, he handed her the swirling sphere. If reluctance were syrup, he would have been a sticky man, drowning in a puddle of sugary mess.

  She laughed, holding up the artifact. “Show me what you hold.”

  The blue surface shuddered and parted like a sky filled with thick clouds. Olyve held it up so that he could peer into its murky depths. There, just under the shimmering top was a miniature portrait. It looked just like Andrew Whittock, suspended in the air.

  Just as quickly as it appeared, the image dispersed, leaving nothing by blue once again. “It doesn’t tell us what the power is, but it does tell us who supplied it.”

  The scowl replaced itself. “Why would it do that? What does it gain from telling you the who and not the what?”

  Olyve shrugged, tucking the Orb into her own pocket this time. She didn’t miss his displeasure but she chose to ignore it. “I don’t know. They’re each different, and the stories on them vary, but the Orb was created with the sole purpose of bringing us together.”

  “Your family?”

  “Yes. Historically speaking, we’ve always had to be close. Guarding our secret and our weakest and most fragile members is a big part of being a Blackwell.”

  He sighed, running his hands through his hair again. “Good to know, I suppose.”

  “It is, indeed. Now. Do you agree to help me here, then?”

  “How do you know you won’t be hurt again, Olyve? Can you swear to me that this won’t be just like before?”

  “I swear it, James.” She moved back to his side, brushing her fingertips against his jaw. “I have you now. You are a lifeline that won’t let me go. There’s no danger in touching the Orb, but even if there was, I know I would still be able to come back from it, just for you.”

  He pressed his cheek to her palm and sighed again. After a painful moment, he nodded. “All right, then. Let’s do this.”

  She smiled up at him, never having doubted that he would allow her this chance to help. They had to work together here and he knew it. She only hoped that she would be able to give him what he wanted. Peeling off her gloves this time was like stripping naked. She tugged the leather down slowly, knowing her fingertips were glowing before she revealed them.

  Blue. The color that symbolized her family had linked with her.

  She reached for the Orb with her gloved hand and took a fortifying breath. James pressed his shoulder to hers, preparing to leap to her aid if she needed it. “You be safe, then.”

  She pressed her skin to the artifact and held the air in her lungs still. This wasn’t like her previous visions where she hurtled into a room where invisible forces flung information at her from all directions. It wasn’t even like the bullet where she found herself forced into the consciousness of something that should have none. The Orb suddenly blazed bright and changed to a curious yellow hue.

  Her lungs burned from holding her breath but she continued to do so as her spirit was dragged under an invisible current. Water washed over every inch of her skin, sightless and weightless but still very much there. Finally, she submerged completely and while the sense of floating continued, she knew without a doubt that she would be able to breathe if she so wished. She took a deep breath, letting liquid fill her lungs painlessly.

  Hello, daughter of Auberon.

  She shuddered as the voice echoed in her head, pushing away her own thoughts and replacing them with a clear, unmistakable voice. She opened her mouth to respond but found the effort wasted. The entity speaking to her didn’t need the comfort of her words. It knew exactly what she wanted.

  We see. It is deeply troubling when one of our own refuses to use the gifts given.

  Olyve saw images of Andrew when he was younger. A white light swirled around his head, bright and giving, offering to illuminate his entire face. Half of his expression lay hidden behind shadow. When Andrew turned away from the light, he stepped deeper into the shade. The light began to twist in on itself, slowly turning as dark as the shadow.

  You will have to remove his energy from the Orb, as he is no longer one of us. He has Fallen, dear Olyve.

  She shuddered under the weight of their words. She didn’t understand them, but there was no questioning their meaning. Andrew was lost to them, his actions tarnishing his soul beyond repair. She silently agreed to do as she was asked, pulling his power away from the Artifact. Her own took its place, resting once again in the flowing depths.

  Ahh, thank you child. We are pleased. Know that our cousin is now in a moving place. You must stop him…

  Olyve wanted to ask questions but the images were already flooding her mind. She instantly knew where she needed to go, knew what to do. A deep sense of confidence touched her face and spread through her body.

  Good then, child. Use your wings.

  There was a heavy burden that wrapped around her, gravity pushing its way back into her world. She coughed violently and in the little room beside James, spit out mouthfuls of crystal clear water.

  “Olyve!” James slammed his open palm against her back but she pushed him off easily.

  “I’m fine.” Another hacking cough bruised her chest. “I know where we have to go.”

  Another second passed as she absorbed the enormity of what had just happened. The orb crackled cheerfully before fading back to its usual blue.

  “Are you certain?”

  She continued to stare at the artifact, her brows drawn together in confusion. “Use my wings?”

  “Wings? Did you say something about wings?” James touched her face lightly and for some reason her eyes drew back to the stains of oil she’d meant to ask him about.

  She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the soiled patches. “Your clothes smell like black powder. What were you doing while I was asleep?”

  * * * *

  Olyve would have screamed if she could. Unfortunately, the pressure of the air as she flew through it like a bird strapped with a rocket kept filling her nose every time she opened her mouth too wide.

  “We’re almost there,” James called. His voice seemed to come from miles away, even though he was clutching her trembling body to his chest. “Don’t look down!”

  She wanted to tell him she had no intention of doing something so foolish, but she decided that smart-mouthing him probably wasn’t the best option at the moment. She clung harder when they hit a pocket of turbulence, her body trembling as much from the wind shear as from the absolute terror filling her bones.

  When James had stuck to her mentioning of “wings,” she’d thought he had assumed she’d lost it. There was a frighteningly interested expression on his face that she now realized should have made her turn tail and run. Instead, she had promised to trust him, proving she was just as mad as he.

  It turned out he was good at thinking ahead. He had suspected that they would have to move quickly at some point during their mission and had put together a “harmless little gadget”, as he put it. He failed to mention that gadget was a pair of metal blades that he strapped to his glider and declared “wings.”

  He’d demonstrated their success a number of times, coming out with an equal number of bruises. The ragtag contraption moved through the air much like an airship, only without the control. Hot air kept it aloft while James used founts of steam to push it in different directions.

  In the end, it was the fact that they had no other choice that convinced her to get on the flying deathtrap, but she hadn’t been happy about it. The first time they had taken off, her jacket ripped from her body, jerking her arms back pa
infully. She now wore his, breathing deeply of his scent in an effort to keep from passing out. Her arms wrapped around his waist and she felt the excitement that slammed through his form.

  The thing moved with an insane speed, flirting with clouds and freezing while the wings shuddered. She was sure that any moment now they’d fall off and she’d come crashing to the ground.

  “There it is! It’s a good thing you were given a vision; we would have never found it on our own.”

  Olyve risked a glance downward and instantly regretted it. A train unlike anything she’d seen before was moving at a much slower pace than them. She didn’t see any railings but didn’t have time to wonder why. It was only as long as three cars and just as thick. In all actuality, it looked like a steam powered warehouse crossing a field of white snow.

  “I’m going to take us down!” That was all the warning Olyve got before her stomach was in her throat. The wings folded in on them, gears spinning as they seemed to break in half then tuck slowly against the craft.

  Despite her faith in James, she closed her eyes and then refused to open them until her feet touched the solid porch of the caboose. She almost tipped over the railing in her relief but James steadied her carefully.

  Swallowing she got her bearing, and closed her eyes for a few short moments. “The Orb tells me that Andrew is in this cart, the one closest to the back. The girls are in the front, though. I’m worried about him getting to them before I can stop him.”

  After a second of trying to come up with a different plan, he cursed. “We’ll have to split up, then. That’s the only way.”

  She nodded, putting on her brave smile. “You save the girls, James. That’s what you came to do anyway.”

  He cursed again, a vicious swear that she was sure was anatomically impossible. “Don’t do anything crazy, my sprite. If you don’t think you can handle this…”

  “I can, James. Have faith. We can’t all be super agents but remember that I have something you don’t.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A plan.”

  He grunted, kissing her roughly before turning away. “Just stay safe.” He leapt off the side of the car, clearing the railing with ease. She didn’t check to see what gadget he was going to pull out of his hat this time.

  The door leading into the carriage swung open without a lock to hinder it. Why would it be? Andrew sat lounging on a long chaise, a glass of amber liquid swirling in his hand.

  His partners in crime stood off to the side, shaking with fear. Each of them stared at her with wide, hopeful eyes as if she’d come to save them. She dismissed them easily, putting their sorry faces out of her mind.

  She focused on her target. Andrew looked like what he was: a villain celebrating his imminent victory. She stepped into the small space, taking in the decadent materials and cloths draped over luxuriously exposed brass.

  He threw his drink down, ignoring the glass as it shattered beneath his feet, but didn’t bother to get up. “How the hell did you manage to get away from Reeves, you clever little thing?”

  Olyve ignored his question, “Cousin. Please, I’m begging you. Give this up. Whatever is making you unhappy can be resolved.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. The cruel, twisted sound grated on her nerves and caused her to wince. The men huddled in the corner let out a unanimous sound of discomfort.

  “Why would I bother to do that? I was going to spare you, leave you with the Earl and let you live. Now you can watch while I tear your father apart.”

  Olyve knew her plea wouldn’t work. She’d seen into his heart when she’d touched the Orb and there was nothing left to save within him. She began to inch forward, even as the crushing weight hit her body. Just as before in the garden, gravity dragged her down to the ground, trying to pin her beneath her own body weight.

  She stumbled in her efforts to get close, one knee connecting with the lush carpet. Her heartbeat slowed considerably and she struggled to drag air into her lungs.

  “You should have stayed with him, Olyve. I wouldn’t have had to hurt you.”

  Fighting his compulsion hurt. She pushed herself up in enough time to see her cousin raise his hands. The air crackled with his power and he pulled on the growing energy to feed his sick desires. The sound of screaming grew muffled, not only by distance but by the cotton wool that seemed to wrap around Olyve.

  * * * *

  James slid the heavy bulk of his body against the moving monstrosity. The wind that kicked up around him blew as greedy hands trying to dislodge him from his perch. Slush and disturbed dust mixed into a grainy mud that whipped over his skin and tore at his clothing.

  Still, he hung there for several precious moments, waiting as Olyve vanished into the dark depths of the back carriage. The heavy door shut and he closed his eyes, sending a quick prayer out for her safe return. It wasn’t something he did often, his job had given him cause to see some of the most horrific scenes, and he’d found that praying didn’t change the outcome with any kind of certainty. He figured, though, that the brave little minx could use all of the help she could get. Just the thought of her getting hurt… James gave his head a violent shake. There was no time to think about that now.

  His muscles screamed when it was time to move. Taking deep breaths, he braced his weight before tugging down the shields on the goggles holding his heavy-with-soot hair back from his face. The surface of the transport was smooth metal, warmed by movement. James flinched when the fast moving conveyance hit a trench, knocking the back wheels off the ground. There would be no way he could drag himself across the surface without a little help holding steady.

  The rotating metal hubcaps ate up the ground with powerful rotations, slicing through anything unlucky enough to come in contact with it. He calculated quickly, turning himself over by sheer strength so that he would be horizontal against the surface. Even with the threat of cutting himself into human shavings, he couldn’t hold his body against the force of the wind in a vertical position. Not without ending up splattered on the ground behind them.

  He shifted carefully, reaching into the pouches fluttering at his waist until he found a rectangular block wrapped in shimmering foil. The strain of keeping his body steady almost ripped his arm out of the socket but he held on, dragging his teeth across the foil and letting it fly off with the current. Through several moments of gut wrenching effort, he managed to pry the rectangle apart with his mouth and fingers. Applying the metal clips to the ends of his leather gloves took even longer but thanks to practiced patience, he managed to get the tips placed properly.

  A second adjustment and he was pressing a button the back of his pants. The magnet hummed in his bones, making his teeth chatter painfully. The movement he felt the clips adhere to the warehouse he would have cried out with pleasure, if not for the severity of the situation.

  Ignoring the pain of the constant assault on his body, James dragged himself forward. Between the last and middle cart he had to jump a gap, secured by a railing. Momentary deactivation of the magnets had his adrenaline slamming through his system. When the guard appeared, he moved on instinct, catching the burly man around the neck seconds before he drew his pistol.

  He jerked the man up off his feet, holding him through the violent struggle for air. His already battered muscles burned with the effort, and the gasping, hissing noise that the man made echoed in his head. It only took a few minutes for the struggles to lessen and finally stop altogether. James slid the unconscious body against the railing without a whisper and checked his pulse. It was rapid but strong.

  James removed the magnets and stuffed them into a second rectangular box. Crouching low to the ground he adjusted to the move and sway of the vehicle before continuing through the opening the guard had revealed.

  Darkness swallowed him up before pinpricks of light allowed his eyes to adjust. The car wasn’t as big on the inside as it looked on the outside. The furnishings in this room were boxes of clothing and numerous bundles of
paper money. There were several piles of extravagant jars, filled with powders and crystals. James ignored them, moving with purpose toward the front of the warehouse. The Crown would doubtlessly be interested in the illegal paraphernalia here, but to him it was all useless. His mission revolved around human goods.

  “The bloke said we’d be compensated beautifully. All yous gotta do it be patient, Mac.”

  A dusty voice had James drawing to a stop. Two men with hungry eyes stood before the door to the next carriage, dripping with no uncertain amount of desperation. The one called Mac slammed his hand against the barrier.

  “It don’ matter what he’s promising us. Can’t be worth what he’s doing to them girls and you know it. We gotta do something.”

  James moved out of sight, hiding his larger frame behind a group of red crates marked “Spain.” He removed the gun that sat on his hip and activated it, the soft hiss of steam releasing into the air muffled by the crunch of the wheels beneath them. The barrel blazed with brilliant blue light before softening and he knew the steam and metal compressed into tiny willing shells.

  “Now don’t go talking crazy. A noble like that will be getting away with anything he wants, whether we’re here to help or not. Might as well get something out of the deal.”

  Mac swallowed hesitantly, a sheen of sweat coating his gaunt face. His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he continued to peer through the glass panel. “It ain't right.”

  “There’s lots that ain’t right in the world. You gotta let it go.” From where James watched, he could see the agitation building in the small shoulders of the second man. He fidgeted unhappily, as he tried to convince his companion to go along with the plan. “‘Sides, we’re already in on it. Do you think the hangman will forgive us after we’ve been helping him snatch the perts this long?”

  Mac never took his eyes off of whatever was behind those windows. He shook his mangy hair from his eyes and shuddered. “It don’t matter. We gotta help them, they’re only girls.”

  The concern in his voice hitched when the crack of a slap rang in the air. With a whoosh of breath, he reached for the handle in the door, preparing to rush in and stop whatever was taking place.