Now was not the time for him to learn though.
“Your turn, Verity,” Henry said, tossing the shocker stone in one hand and shooting her a most curious look. He’d been there in the Delancy Academy, when her knack for mechanics turned into something larger. He’d heard Professor Vidmar tell her about the Sound. They never discussed it after, but he wondered—Verity saw that in his eyes.
Stepping up to the door, she disappeared into a world of sensation, that she could not have described to him anyway.
Through the lens of the Sight, the door was simply beautiful. The clockwork within in, shining and perfect. Each piece knew its place, so that it was a symphony of order in a world which Verity had decided long ago was nothing but chaos. Putting her hand to its face, she inhaled the odour of manufactured metal, and trembled at each shift of the movement under her skin.
She didn’t pull out her auto-lock for this—that would have almost been an insult. Instead she brought out the old-fashioned curve of the clock pick loop. The clankerton who made this was a master, and no plan old set of tools would be able to do the job. Instead as Verity put the arbour pick to the lock, she moved the gears with the Sound. Encouraging the clockwork to whisper its secrets to her.
The cogs would only work to open the door when the proper mates were introduced through a proper key. The sizing and mainspring no one could have guessed through simply massaging them with the picks. It was the Sound that moved them in the right order, and the loop she only needed to act as a barrier to the line of them moving.
The door made no loud clunk as it found its setting, that would have been dreadfully common. Instead it gave only a faint whir when it opened.
“Nice bit o’ work there,” Christopher whispered, even though his face reflected more envy than anything.
Henry said nothing, but that in itself spoke volumes. His dark and handsome face, twisted into an expression Verity couldn’t quite read. Even if they’d had all the time in the world though, she wouldn’t have questioned him.
The three of them slipped into darkness, and now the London particular became very unparticular. Instead of the yellow tinged fog, the one that rolled towards them was of a greenish hue. It didn’t sting the nostril like the one outside did either, instead there was a peculiar organic odour to it that was not unpleasant, almost like cut grass.
Beyond the door, with this new strange-hued fog curling around their feet, the three eldest of the Seven, stood in a long corridor, with many alcoves and doors off it. Each one could contain a villain or a bound-up Colin waiting for rescue.
Henry turned back and spoke through the door to the twins and Emma. “Assume the usual,” he whispered. Though Verity could not see their expressions, she knew what they would be—sullen. Still it was the usual practice of the orphans to split their numbers in case things turned pear-shaped. Many times, previously the younger members got their elders out of scrapes.
It also made Verity and Henry both feel better about bringing them into it. Not that they would tell the smaller children that.
Without speaking to each other, Verity, Henry and Christopher fanned out down the corridor, trying doors and peeking in. The first two she found were cupboards, full of items she might have found in the classes at the Academy.
Chemical supplies in one, vices, planes, and screws for engineering projects in another. Glancing across the space as Henry emerged from one on the other side, he shook his head. Each one needed to be checked though, and there were many doors. At least no one of them were locked, so that speeded up the process.
Mind you with a complicated and beautiful lock like the one on the front door, who would need anything less behind it, she thought to herself.
The fifth door Verity opened was at least interesting. It extended further back than any mere cupboard. This was a chamber, about fifteen feet wide, and lined with the most beautiful things.
Illuminated and gleaming by gaslight were line upon line of carefully sculpted and unique automatons. Her eye ran over them with a greedy eye. Some were not dissimilar to the new portoporters she’d seen at Paddington Station, while others were brass renditions of Greek gods as seen in the British Museum. Some were large and chunky, like security automatons, while others looked like they would be used for cleaning or service work.
Using the Sound, she could feel around on their insides, but since none of them were active all she got was a vague impression of the workings. They were very strange indeed; not totally made of the usual clockwork or steam. Buried within were aether crystals, the kind that the Ministry used for the trackers, but much larger. The sheer cost of using the fragile and rare components must be as much as this house —if not the whole of Bethnal Green—was worth.
Yet all stood around, silent and without a spark to bring them to life.
To her senses it was as if they were dead things, a beautiful butterfly stilled before it could fly from the cocoon. It was almost a crime.
She wandered between them for a moment, touching their cold metallic skins, and puzzling over this strangeness. The Sound spiralled her down into their complexities until she quite lost herself. Everything was beautiful and strange, but when she got jerked out of it, it was with a half-scream.
A thick hand clamped on her arm with the kind of strength only an automaton could bring to bear—and it immediately began to squeeze awfully tight.
Chapter Two
The Little Brass Man
For one very shocked moment, Verity Fitzroy stared into eyes flaring suddenly green. The automaton with the chiselled body of Adonis stared down at her, his hand wrapped firmly on her shoulder, close to her neck if he cared to try breaking it. If she were to scream, then the jig would certainly be up.
The automaton tilted its head, sculpted with the soft curls of an ancient Greek statue, and the jaw opened. Verity after her initial shock, felt something deeply disturbing from the automaton—something it should most definitely not have; an emotion. Sorrow, to be particular.
Her eyes welled up and a sob choked her throat. She’d never experienced this effect when using the Sound, which was always clinical and precise.
The automaton worked its jaws several times, as if trying to find words, but only the slightest of squeaks came out.
“What’s the matter?” Verity whispered as foolish as that was.
A sight ping echoed from behind the chest plate of the mechanication, and she gasped as she experienced the aether crystal within shatter. The green light emanating from its eyes died away, and the grasp on her arm loosened as the automaton’s head sagged.
“Verity?” Henry pitched his voice low as he peered from behind the door. His eyes widened when he spotted the rows of assorted automatons.
“Come on,” she said, bustling out of the room and guiding him away with a push of his shoulder before he too got lost in the splendour of the mechanications. “We have to find Colin.”
Christopher appeared out of another cupboard. “Full of jars,” he said wrinkling his nose, “smelt really off, but I don’t know what it was.”
That was the last door before the end of the corridor. More of that green hued mist rolled out when Henry eased the door out. Verity wasn’t happy about it, but he took the lead.
This final corridor was stranger still. Gaslight bounced off the brass-lined walls, and it wasn’t just the walls, the arched ceiling above also had the same treatment. Why anyone would do that, she couldn’t think. It would have been pretty if it hadn’t also made the floor under their feet slippery and loud.
Something made a soft and insistent noise off to her right, but she was certain the boys didn't hear it. The Sound once again called to her. In this corridor too was a cupboard, but smaller than the others. It would only take a moment to investigate, so she darted to one side.
This was small—really only a broom cupboard—and inside were more brass parts for automatons. Arms and legs were jumbled together, some showing signs of having been wrenched apart or crushed, but
there was more.
Leaning against the wall was one in full working order.
The automaton stood about four feet tall and could in no way be called menacing. Its rugby ball shaped head was painted yellow and rested atop a chunky, spherical little body with struts and an axle running through it, even though it had two arms and two legs which stuck out like a clumsy toddler’s. The effect was to make the automaton look like it’d had one too many goose dinners. Its large silver eyes took up most of its head, and the effect was one that Verity could only describe as adorable. If it’d been made as a toy, it would have certainly been the must have item on upper crust children’s Christmas list. After seeing all the fine sculpted pieces from the other room, this one was almost comical.
Still, this must be what triggered the Sound in her head. Bending down Verity saw a small gleaming button adhered to the front of the automaton’s chest. It definitely wasn’t part of the original design; in fact, the clockwork tick of it was suppressed by a slight hum. Not knowing what it was, but still not liking it much, Verity pulled it off and stamped in it with her heel, like it was a wasp. The Sound didn’t care for it, and neither did see.
The automaton’s eyes, lit up green, and it tilted its head up to look at Verity. “Where is the monster?” it asked, it’s voice high-pitched and crackling.
“What monster?” she asked, bending down slightly. “We haven’t found any monster…”
“Good god, there are more of you! Hurry we don’t have much time.” The automaton’s legs retracted into its body, and its body descended from the frame, so the body was more of a wheel. Verity admired the ingenuity of it, even as the automaton grabbed hold of her hand and spun itself madly towards the door. She ran to keep up with the thing as it burst out into the corridor and rolled at high speed towards where Henry and Christopher ventured. Since they’d been making every effort to stay silent, Verity and the automaton soon caught up with them.
She got a glimpse of Henry’s shocked face as they barrelled past, forcing the boys to race to keep up with her. The automaton said nothing else, but the crackling heat she experienced over her skin she interpreted as rage.
The brass-lined corridor opened into a room she shouldn’t have been surprised to see, but one that clenched her stomach. Through clouds of green steam, Colin became visible, his blond hair flying as he struggled with a massively taller figure which was trying to push him back onto a chair… a chair that had straps on it.
London crawled with mad scientists, people who wanted to advance the sciences, but didn’t want to bother with all the pesky problems of morality and decency. Pretty much always it was the poor and small that they chose for their experiments, so this wasn’t the first time the Ministry Seven had run into one—nor even the fourth time.
The automaton at her side let go of her arm but continued rolling at top speed towards the struggling figures. It didn’t have any obvious weaponry, but it went on regardless.
“Stop that person,” Verity screamed, grabbing hold of the shocker from her belt and hurling it towards the concealed figure wrestling with Colin. Behind her, Christopher yelled fit to burst his lungs, and Henry joined in with a cry that might have been last heard on the field of Agincourt.
The figure dropped Colin, who scrambled to get out of the way. His attacker slipped back into the clouds, as Verity’s shocker struck the awful chair and sent sparks dancing.
“Monster! Beast!” the automaton screamed from somewhere within the smoke. It was not being put off.
“Colin! Over here!” Christopher’s shout produced results in a moment, as the younger boy scrambled out from the heaving fogs towards them.
He looked no worse for wear and hurried over to Henry’s side. “Gimme a shocker,” he demanded without even drawing breath, but holding out his hand. For an eight-year old he had a keen sense of justice… and revenge.
All of the Ministry children stood alert, arms held back, ready to throw, as screams and automaton beeps sounded in the mist. It was impossible to see anything, and they really wanted to find something to hit.
The echo of footsteps racing towards them from the direction they had come, made Verity momentarily glance over her shoulder. Seeing Agent Harrison Thorne pounding towards them, his Ministry issue experimental pistol already from its holster made her heart race faster than it was already. If anyone was exactly how she imagined a dashing hero to look, it was Thorne.
It pleased her a great deal when he raced up to her, not Henry. "Got the chap cornered then?" he asked, his eyes scanning the fog for a target.
"Yes," she reported, "we extracted Colin from whatever it was, but we seem to have picked up a friendly automaton that's attacking whoever is in there. Must have better sensors than we do."
"Right then, let's see if we can flush the blighter out." Harrison kept his pistol aimed at the fog, but called out, "This is the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences. We have you surrounded, so be a sensible chap, and give yourself up. We don't want to have to hurt you."
All grew very silent in the fog, and for a moment Verity had hopes that the villain might simply walk out and lay down his weapons.
Instead, the automaton exploded out of the mist as if shot from a cannon. Its bright green eyes were even brighter, as it rolled towards them waving its hands.
"Run!" it bellowed, with some kind of extraordinary power that no human could match. "The building is going to explode!"
Indeed, the green fog thickened and bunched, so the wreaths of mist looked like a boxer's fist curling up ready to punch. The figure within did not follow the automaton, but Verity could sense a power growing deep within the mist, a clicking and a clacking that grew faster and faster.
"It's right," she yelled, as the automaton barrelled past the children and the agent towards the exit. "Leg it!"
Luckily a life on the streets made all those present quick on their feet. Henry, Verity, Christopher, Colin and Thorn bolted back the way they had come, with a rumble springing to life under their feet. The whole house now sprang to life around them, and she was almost deafened by the clank of something massive turning and spinning behind them.
She thought of the Pharaoh's great machine, the one she'd seen depicted on the walls of the tomb beneath the Academy. Even running for her life, Uncle Octavius intruded. She hoped that these were not her last thoughts, since he was in them. That would have been very bothersome.
Breaking out of the long, brass lined corridor, and into the one with all the doors, they followed the automaton as it bounced past the massive clockwork door and into the basement. Jonathan, Jeremy and Emma were by the small windows, watching out as they had been taught, but when Henry barked out "Move!" they didn't pause for a moment.
Taking up the rear as Verity was, she saw the automaton struggling to get up the stairs. It deployed its legs, but it did not move nearly as fast as when it was a spinning ball. The idea of such a wonder being destroyed did not sit well with Verity.
Scooping it up, she bundled it up the stairs. The automaton was no light weight, but it didn't struggle, so holding it with both hands in front of her she ran on.
The house was now thundering and bucking underneath them, green smoke pouring through the cracks in the floorboards and walls. Choking them with that smell Verity only just thought of as pleasant.
Children and agents scrambled out of the building, just as it released an almighty boom, shooting mist and flame out into the yellow Particular. It shook the ground and broke windows all around—but lasted only a moment. Then with a loud sucking sound, the flames and gouts of steam were sucked back whence they came, yanking the building down into the gaping pit that was all that remained of the basement.
The children standing on the street stood huddled together for a moment. Shock could barely describe what Verity experienced there.
Already doors in the surrounding buildings banged open as terrified and angry residents poured out onto the street. The Seven allowed themselves a moment to recover, but
it was Verity that regained her composure first.
"Emma, gimme your sack?"
The chestnut-haired girl tried to feign ignorance of what she meant, but when she dosed her with a glare, the girl fished under her skirt and pulled out a rolled-up sack. Emma was always prepared, and if they came across some valuables on their adventures, the first to pilfer what she could lay hands on.
Quickly Verity bundled the automaton into it and hefted it over her shoulder.
"What are you doing?" the mechanication demanded, sounding deeply offended by this treatment.
"Silence," she hissed back, "you're not going anywhere until we get some answers."
The crowds of residents crowded around the front of the house, shouting, pointing, and generally getting upset with what just happened on their street. Women were in the process of tucking their aprons up, which meant things were about to get ugly.
"Reconvene at the house," Thorne muttered. "I will need a full report for my superior." With that, he shoved his hands into his pockets, and strolled away from the children like nothing happened.
It was indeed best to get away from the scene before fingers were pointed. The children broke up into small groups to make their own exit. Seven children together was just a little too many, and in this kind of situation would attract interest. Henry sauntered off with Jeremy, since Jonathan had already slipped off. That was their modus operandi.
Verity jerked her head at Colin and Liam, who followed her, which left Christopher and Emma to make like brother and sister in the crowd.
"Where are you taking me?" the automaton bleeped from inside the sack, and she gave it a hard wrap.
"Silence until we get there," she said. "Or I'll put that disruptor button back on you."
The Mystery of Emerald Flame (Verity Fitzroy and the Ministry Seven Book 2) Page 2
