A Clockwork Christmas

by Nina S. Gooden

  He never saw the second man raise his weapon. Gnarled hands slid around the hilt of a knife and raised moments before a soft pop hissed through the air. Electricity slammed into his arm and chest before Mac could complete his defensive yelp. James stepped out of the shadows as the body collapsed against the wall beside the door.

  “Don’t move.” He growled the words even as Mac put his hands up in the air in surrender.

  “No sir, I wasn’t plannin’ on it.”

  With a tilt of the gun, James ushered the shaking man into the corner while he checked the prone body. “He’s still alive, though not by much.”

  Mac’s eyes widened hugely as he watched James drag the man away from the door and into the opposite corner with one hand. “How did you manage to do that?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” came the biting response. James lifted himself up without removing the scope of his weapon from the grisly face. He checked the panel of clear glass before cursing under his breath. The girls were in there all right, but so were a number of guards. Each one of them hung on the far side of the room, chains keeping their arms raised above their heads. A pole kept their feet immobile against the ground.

  He shifted the settings of the gun, watching as the neon surface bled away into red instead of blue. A frown spread across his face.

  While the barrel was blue, the gun was set to momentarily render subjects unconscious. Unfortunately, the gadget worked mostly by electricity, which would make it unwise to use if the subjects were touching or close to a civilian. Though the effects usually only knocked individuals out, there was always the chance that it could stop their hearts. Either way, it was a painful method of neutralizing a target. The pain extended for days after takedown as the body worked to reroute the abusive stream of neurological energy.

  With the settings on red, though, the gun would tear through anything within a wide short radius. It would take out three or four targets at once, but it exhibited the same problems as the blue. There was no way for him to point the weapon toward his targets without the possibility of hitting the prisoners.

  He palmed his dagger for several moments before discarding it as well as several other gadgets for different reasons. There were too many targets, not enough time, and danger to the civilians. One by one, he ticked off his options quickly, plotting his chances of success carefully.

  Another bark of slapped skin hit his ears like a blow, but he gritted his teeth keeping his mind at the task at hand. He wouldn’t be of any use to the girls if he lost his head. A closer whimper followed the grip he took and he saw the grisly man shifting uncomfortably, clearly gauging his chances of making it to the door before James pumped him full of steam.

  When his shifting eyes snagged on malachite he let out a huff. “If I can help, let me. I didn’t sign up for this.” When it didn’t appear as if his words swayed the agent, he took an earnest step forward, palms outstretched. “Please. I have a nephew. He’s only nine. This ain't right. One of those girls is only a kid.”

  Quick calculation had James slowly lowering his gun. The barrel gave a disappointed hiss when he released the mechanism that had it returning to the metallic bronze it was without the glow. He waited several moments before pulling a small cube from the leather straps across his chest. It was no bigger than his thumb but he handed it to the man with great care.

  Mac turned it carefully, treating it with as much reverence as James had. “What’s it do?”

  If he could have helped it, James would have bit his tongue in half before handing one of his creations to another human being. Reluctance made his voice harder than it needed to be. “It’s a shield. Press and hold the arrow down for ten seconds. Afterward, set it on the ground with the arrow facing up and away from what you want protected.”

  The gangly man looked down at the cube with awe. “It’s going to get big enough to protect all them girls?”

  “It will, but you have to make sure to stand behind the arrow. A blast of steam will release as the gears turn. That blast will be hot enough to scald anyone close enough. It’s a nasty little defense mechanism.”

  Mac’s hands started shaking and James took a step closer to him, resting his palm against a thin shoulder. “You said you wanted to help them. This is how you can help. After you set the shield, the kidnappers will be distracted and in excruciating pain. I’ll come in for the takedown and everyone will be out before the shield collapses.”

  James stepped back into the shadows, waiting with tense shoulders while Mac stepped through the door.

  “Welcome back, Mac.” A smooth, cultured voice offered the cheerful salutation. “You’ve been gone so long, Kane and I have a bet going to see who gets to play bottom while you bugger each other.”

  Mac laughed stiffly and tucked his hands in the one pocket his clothing provided.

  Kane, a wiry man with scars decorating his ugly face laughed cruelly. A curved blade flashed in the air with a flick of his wrist. Blood coated the sharpened edged, dried and sticky, layers upon layers of grotesque crimson liquid.

  Mac flinched as a third and fourth man palmed the chest of a heavily bruised woman off to the side, while a third swallowed her cries behind a drooling mouth. James clenched his jaw from where he watched. Narrowed eyes tracked the saliva as it slid down her trembling chin. The liquid mixed with the tears that wound toward her chin. Fury burst in his chest and he grappled for his self control, clinging to his concern for Ginny.

  “We weren’t doin’ none of that, but he and Strong went off and haven’t come back. I think they might be swivvin’, truth be told.”

  Kane and one of the men who were groping the bruised woman moved off to the side to peer out of the window where James hid. Just as they pushed the door open, a click filled the space and they grunted, falling to the ground.

  “What the hell?” The cultured man stepped forward with the others close behind him. Weapons were drawn and hackles were raised as they moved toward the group, ignoring the women who were swaying with the motion of the traincar.

  Out of the corner of his eye, James watched Mac move backward while the others were distracted. He fumbled around in his pocket when one of the groping men turned his attention back to him.

  “Hey, what’s going on here? You do something to them?”

  The other men turned as one, grumbling their agreement. Bullets of sweat immediately sprung up over Mac’s face and he pulled the cube out of his pocket, even as James readied his next attack.

  “How could I have done anything? I’ve been over here the whole time.” His voice trembled with guilt and fear and James knew the others weren’t buying it.

  They exchanged glances and eyed the slumped over bodies on the ground before glancing toward the door where he sat in wait. “We ought to make him go out first.”

  “’ellz yeah. If there be some kind of trap out there, he’s the only one who coulda set it.”

  “The others didn’t come back. I bet he did something to them.”

  “He’s stronger than he looks. He carried the fat pert in here all on his own.”

  James knew the moment Mac decided it was a lost cause. He shifted from side to side, tossing the door discreet looks, but there was no way the kidnapper could pierce the darkness. When the girl with the bruises mewled pitiably behind him, he took a fortifying breath even as one of the men took a step closer to him.

  The cube hit the ground without a sound and Mac nudged it with his foot to ensure it was pointing the right way.

  The grind of gears rotating crashed into the small space like an explosion. Metal unfolded and stretched outward as the cube sliced into slivers of reflective sheets. The hiss of steam was low at first but built up as the shield grew in size. Pretty soon, the pressure was barely contained behind the working brass and copper parts.

  James surged backward, even as Mac tried to make it to the door. The others stood gawking at the pretty piece of machinery, but James threw open the barrier. “Get over here, Mac!”
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br />   The old man caught the surprised expression of the bruised girl only seconds before the blast hit him and the other kidnappers like a tidal wave. Wet, sticky heat boiled his back, wisps of agony painting over his skin. He opened his mouth to cry out, only to have the steam scald his lungs.

  James caught him around the waist before he could hit the ground. He dragged him to the safety of the doorway, watching with sharp eyes as the other men screamed and writhed in pain. When none of them tried to escape, James pressed his hand to the back of Mac’s neck and pushed lightly so that the pain suddenly stopped. The pressure point numbed his body and he slipped into unconsciousness.

  James took one look around the room and frowned again. “My calculations were off.” He said to himself. “Too much steam.” He carefully moved Mac out of the way, positioning him in a place away from the light stream of smoke that still seeped out of the shield.

  Blistered bodies went still before him and he checked to see how many of them were unconscious and how many had taken their last breath. Shaking his head, he lifted each of them and moved them out of the little room. He didn’t want the girls to see the bloodied corpses of their attackers after their already traumatic experience.

  He separated the dead and wounded in silence, but he kept Mac apart from all of them. He didn’t want the man caught in the clean-up. After checking everything in the room once more, he left the door cracked to ensure circulation of the wet air. His clothing was sticking to his body but he shook out his hair, careful to check his weapons.

  Releasing the catch on the shield, he sent it tumbling back into the cube. He was panting slightly, his hands shaking as he waited for the barrier to fold properly. The steam hissed as it moved into the places it hadn't reached before and as it dispersed, he let out a pleased little sigh.

  The women were all unchained. A little girl with red hair in pigtails stood directly in front of him, her bright eyes shining with mischief. “You took your time, didn’t you, Papa James?”

  He ignored the questions swimming in his head and nodded guiltily. “I’m sorry, baby girl.”

  She nodded, forgiving him instantly. “That’s all right. I’m not hurt, but some of these ladies are.”

  James went down on one knee, pressing the little girl to his chest. His heart swelled until it felt as if it would burst when her tiny arms wrapped around his neck. It was a feeling he recognized, the exact way he felt when he was close to Olyve. He loved her.

  A choked little scream hit his ears moments before gravity turned against him. James gasped when the girl pulled back and away from him, just enough to let him hit the ground without hurting her. Dizzying weight anchored him to the ground painfully and he turned his head just enough to see that the women were also pinned down.

  The girl smiled down at him, untouched and unaffected. He reached out to her and she opened her mouth. All he could hear, though, was Olyve’s voice in his head. He answered her in kind, screaming her name without using his vocal cords.

  Olyve!

  Chapter Nine

  The weight slipped into her bones making her very flesh reach toward the ground. Another cry rose up, deep and masculine. James’s voice cut through the cotton pressed against her eardrums.

  Olyve!

  Her body fought her for every inch she gained. She managed to roll onto her back but then the crushing force drove the breath from her battered lungs. Blood streamed from her nose and still she moved closer to her cousin.

  Fenne and his group were lying flat against the rocking floor, whimpering while they promised not to move.

  Andrew continued to draw on his own power, ignoring her efforts. It cost her, but she managed to lift her head while she crawled, watching his hands. When he brought them down, they blazed with the familiar purple she usually ran from. The aching certainty that she only had a few moments to act slammed into her.

  She spit a mouthful of blood to the floor, smiling grimly. There was no way James wasn’t going to yell at her for the extent of her damage. She forced herself to come up to her knees, swallowing against the pain. “Andrew.”

  She had to call him twice for the energy funnel to separate enough for him to hear her. His blonde head jerked toward her voice and she took the span of a heartbeat to mourn her beloved cousin.

  His voice sparked with power when he spoke, deep and vibrating. “You wish to continue begging?”

  “No.” She forced her heavy limbs to obey her, dragging the bullet from the depths of James’s coat pocket. “I wish to show you that every power, even yours, has a good and bad.” She gritted her teeth. “You gave up on the positive you could have done in order to do harm. My power…the power you have coursing through your fingertips, is no different.”

  It was a simple motion but it cost her so much effort it might as well have been a trek across London. She tossed him the bullet, knowing he would catch it by reflex.

  At first he simply stared down at the little bit of metal.

  Olyve knew the moment the vision came crashing into his body. His eyes glowed with the color she knew hers must cast. He groaned and the heat in the air vanished in an instant. The weight released her and she gasped, feeling so light she expected to float away. Instead she stood, moving gingerly to her cousin’s side. Blood had already blossomed at his chest, a froth of it appearing at his lips.

  “I’m sorry, Andrew…” She whispered the words, even as the light dimmed in his eyes. He couldn’t hear her anymore but for whatever else he was, she’d loved him for all of her life. She mourned the lost potential. Cried for who he had been.

  She was closing his eyes when James shouldered his way through the carriage door. A hundred narrow gashes bled shallowly on his body but he grinned, shuffling the bundle in his arms carefully. A little face filled with freckles peeked out from against his chest and Olyve felt her own heart immediately warm.

  “You did it.”

  He nodded, pressing a kiss against the small forehead. “So did you.”

  He took a step, preparing to cross the space that separated them, but paused when a shadowy apparition began to gather in the middle of the small room. Olyve felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up on ends and groaned softly.

  The figure slowly solidified, revealing a tall man with wide shoulders and a dark grin. The shock of his jet black hair only emphasized the neon blue of his electric eyes. He inhaled, the entire room seeming to tilt toward him as he breathed deep. Long moments passed while the air settled around the man who exuded power.

  Olyve folded her arms across her chest, waiting for her father to speak. “You’re a little late, you know.”

  Warham Blackwell, Auberon, Airship Pirate, and father rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “What did you do to your hair, my girl? It’s so short.”

  She took a menacing step forward and he backed up, putting his hands out in surrender. “I knew you could handle yourself. Cole was worried, but I never doubted.”

  “I could have been seriously hurt!”

  The giant of a man had the gall to laugh, turning away from her as if he hadn’t just appeared out of thin air.

  When his eyes landed on the man his daughter had chosen, he couldn’t help the growl that vibrated through the air. “You planning on making my daughter your wife, kid?”

  James took a moment to decide if he should be offended or not. Always one to make wise choices, he decided to let the offense slide, nodding calmly. “If she’ll have me.”

  Warham laughed, “Then welcome to the family, Prometheus.”

  He didn’t wait for the surprise to leave the younger man’s face. He turned to the heaps of wasted breath huddled in the corner, practically pissing themselves. “I’m proud of what you’ve done here, Lyv, even if you butchered your crowning glory to do it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe these gentlemen need to learn a few lessons.”

  “Father, don’t–”

  She may as well not have spoken. The man vanished, taking the three men as well a
s his nephew’s body with him.

  James cleared his throat. “He’s pretty scary, you know.”

  Olyve hung her head for a moment before nodding. “Don’t worry, he won’t kill them. They’ll turn up in a couple of months, out of their mind with fear. Literally.”

  “I’m not sure that’s much better.”

  She winced, ducking her head in another one of her rare shows of shyness. “You didn’t have to tell him yes. He wouldn’t have forced you to marry me.”

  James laughed, jostling the girl in his arms. “I’ve already told you, sprite of mine. I want to marry you, just for you. For your courage, your sass, and even that smart mouth. I love you, so I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Tears burned in the blue depths of her eyes. “I love you too, James. More than you can ever know.”

  He grinned. “We’ll see about that. For now, though, we have a dozen scared and confused women who very much want to get home.”

  Olyve nodded, pushing her sleeves up. “Let’s get to work, then. Do you know how to stop this monstrosity?”

  “Not a clue.”

  Olyve groaned. “Isn’t that just lovely?”

  She grinned when he winked at her. “Olyve? You asked me a while ago, what I wanted for Christmas. Right now, I think I’ve spent my whole life, just wanting you.”

  The End

  About the Author:

  Nina S. Gooden has been in love with the written word since her first well-spent allowance on A Light In The Attic. She spends most of the time she’s not drowning in characters and plot ideas watching anime and playing video games (she’s a Holy Paladin/Chloromancer Mage in disguise). Her biggest influences are mythology and psychology, though she’s been known to dabble in the obscure. Currently, she lives in dusty Las Vegas with her long-term boyfriend and evil genius kitty.