The Mystery of Emerald Flame (Verity Fitzroy and the Ministry Seven Book 2)

by Pip Ballantine

  Reaching the kitchen, she found Henry holding Emma away from him with one of his hands on her forehead, while Potts swung from above the hearth by the chains used to keep the pot aloft over the flames. The automaton’s wheels spun and whirred uselessly, while his head bobbled from side to side like an alarmed bird.

  Sharp-eyed Verity noted that two of the screws on his chest plate were half-out, and Henry's belt of tools lay on the table. To complete this tableaux Jonathan and Jeremy were seated on the opposite side of the room, each munching on an apple, and watching the drama unfold with the enjoyment of children at a Punch and Judy show. They loved a good bit of argy-bargy and could sense it a mile away. Frowning at their obvious delight, Verity waded into the fray.

  “What’s going on?” she said, crossing her arms least she be tempted to take a swing at Henry.

  “He’s hurting Monkey Wrench!” Emma wailed, waving her arms fruitlessly and leaning into the arm restraining her.

  “No, I’m not,” Henry countered, but there was an alarming brightness to his eyes when he glanced back at Potts. “I just want to see that little green flame of his.”

  “He’s trying to kill me, Miss Fitzroy!” the automaton peeped as he swung about on the chains.

  “Were you spying on me when I opened him up, Henry?” Verity said, rounding on him.

  Distracted, Henry let go of Emma’s forehead, and slipping under his grasp, she kicked him in the knee so that he staggered back. Emma was very good with her feet. She dashed past him and with a grunt lifted Potts off the hooks and down onto the ground. Jonathan and Jeremy gave her a round of applause from their seats on the far side of the kitchen. They’d been spending far too much time at the West End lately.

  Henry’s face took on the aspect of a thundercloud, as he rubbed at his leg. “Maybe,” was his sullen reply.

  Up until that point Verity was on the verge of sharing the warning from Uncle Octavius with the group, but now she jammed her hand into the top of her pocket, least the slip of paper accidentally fall out. The Seven knew about him, since she’d been forced to explain to them why she needed them to fall in line with going to the Delancy Academy. However, they hadn’t seen him garrotte someone, and she hadn’t shared that information. She wasn’t sure she ever would.

  It was strange, but she didn’t want them to think people she called Uncle would do such a thing.

  Clambering to his feet, Henry admitted what he’d done. “I may have watched from the stairs, and I saw that bleedin’ light come pouring out. I just wanted to examine it more closely. What kind of power source is running that thing?”

  Potts clapped his three-fingered hands over his chest plate. “I am not some exhibit at the museum.” His half-spherical head bobbed up and down vertically as if he was trying to get taller somehow.

  Verity let out a long slow sigh. “I am sorry Potts, but I know Henry, he won’t rest until he has seen it himself.”

  A cascade of beeps told her how unhappy the automaton was, but he suffered himself to be put up on the kitchen table, and let Henry loosen the remaining screws—though he did turn his face to the wall.

  When the green light hit Emma and Henry’s faces their jaws dropped. Jonathan and Jeremy wriggled from their perches and raced over to peer in themselves.

  “Now you’ve all had a good look, please kindly close me up,” Potts snapped, and didn’t look at any of them until his screws were securely back on. His attitude was that of a city banker forced to disrobe, and Verity tried very hard not to smile even a bit.

  “Did you always know what was in there?” Henry said tapping the automaton on his chest.

  “No, no I did not, have you ever seen your insides pray tell?” he replied as his eyes got brighter.

  “He doesn’t mean it, Monkey Wrench,” Emma said, throwing her arm around the automaton’s shoulders. “He’s just Henry.”

  Potts made some vain gestures that might have been meant to brush her off, but the little girl was strong for her size. No matter how he shook she stayed put.

  “What is that flame thing?” Henry asked, fixing Verity with a stern look over the top of the tableaux.

  “I don’t know,” she insisted.

  He just glared harder. “I don’t believe you.”

  Ever since the Delancy Academy, he’d tried to worm more details out of her. Henry did not care for puzzles, and she suspected that to him, she was now one he was intent on cracking. In her pocket her hand clenched into a fist.

  In that moment, Verity was certain all hell was about to break loose, when Colin burst into the kitchen, his cap in his hand and his face bright red under his blonde hair. “We got a visitor!”

  Usually that would have meant scrambling to secure the house and possibly pull out armaments, but the smile on his face gave them pause.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Henry demanded grabbing hold of the younger boy.

  “Agent Thorne is coming up the street with a visitor for us.”

  Verity’s heart sank. She worried it was his partner, that Eliza D Braun woman, who poised as a teacher at the academy. She got far too much enjoyment in blowing things up on the cricket pitch, and Verity was never been fond of loud noises and dangerous chemicals. Also she didn’t care for the way Harrison looked at her.

  “Is it a woman?” she asked, fearing the answer.

  Colin grinned wider. “Nah, more like a girl, bright red-hair sticking out all ways. Thorne said for you to meet him in the park.”

  Barely had the words leapt from his lips than a smile spread on Verity's lips. Grabbing hold of Potts’ little arms, she dragged him back down onto the floor. “Sorry Emma, going to have to borrow Monkey Wrench here. The rest of you, stay put. I have a friend come to visit.”

  Before any of them could argue, she pulled the little automaton out of the kitchen and towards the secret entrance.

  “I won’t be tugged,” Potts exclaimed, but he didn’t have much choice in the matter. She might not be able to effect his inner workings, but the release mechanism on his wheel assembly was right there. When it dropped into place she could pull him along as fast as her legs went.

  “My visitor is Miss Julia McTighe,” she explained somewhat breathlessly.

  “Oh good Lord, not one from that mad Scottish clan.” Potts’ head swivelled around, but she was already pushing him up inside the tree towards the trap door. His wheel spun uselessly.

  Most everyone in the Empire heard of the McTighes. Julia’s uncle Hamish, often referred to simply as Mad McTighe, was one of the Empire’s most famous, and infamous inventors. His creations had changed lives; some for good, some for rather ill.

  “She’s very nice,” Verity said with a slight huff as she worked the door open and pushed the automaton through, “and you are going to be polite, or I’ll unscrew your legs.” It was an empty threat, since Emma would give her endless grief about that, but it shut the little brass man up for a moment.

  With a slight pop, the trap door opened, and Potts bounced out into the park. He immediately turned about and tried to wheel himself back in, but Verity blocked the way. She slammed the door shut and nudged him out onto the path.

  Harrison was seated on the park bench with a very familiar red-head next to him. Verity pushing the automaton in front of her, went to meet them with a broad smile on her lips.

  “Julia,” she called out.

  The other girl leapt to her feet and raced towards her like a Scottish hurricane. When she collided with Verity, she almost knocked her down. She might be a little shorter, but she always seemed to carry her own force with her.

  “Och, Verity, it’s grand to see you—” The words stopped in her throat, when her eyes lit on Potts, and before she said anymore, she swung at the little automaton with her carpet bag. The impact of her luggage with the spherical body sent him careening across the grass like he was a croquet ball.

  “Run!” Julia screamed, grabbing hold of Verity’s arm with her hand, while shoving her hand into the bag.
It was all so unexpected that the Verity didn’t have time to interject anything, before the Scottish girl pulled a long, gleaming pistol from that very same bag, and pointed it at Potts.

  “Stand back,” she howled like she was at the battle of Culloden. “I’ll save you.”

  The pistols chamber grew blue and began to spew trails of steam from the side. Something very loud was about to happen. The residents of Onslow Square were about the be very disturbed.

  Chapter Six

  Taking Pot Shots

  It was only when both Verity and Harrison grabbed hold of Julia that Potts was saved from being turned into scrap metal. The Scottish girl’s eyes were wide, and her hair somehow seemed to have puffed up along with her rage.

  “He’s a killer!” she howled, even as Harrison disarmed her and slipped the pistol into his pocket. The agent did have some very firm ideas on children having firearms, hence why Verity invented the shocker stone.

  The Scottish girl batted at his hands, even as he restrained her.

  “Julia…Julia!” Verity called, worried that her friend was going to hurt herself. “It’s alright. I’ve checked him out.”

  Potts spun in place a few times, so perhaps some of his gyroscopes were knocked loose in the struggle. He also gained a small dent in his side that Verity chose not to point out in this moment.

  “Mad Scots!” he replied, his eyes flashing bright. “What an uncalled-for attack! Like Wallace on the bridge.”

  That was entirely the wrong thing to say.

  Harrison needed to pick Julia off her feet to prevent her flying at the little brass man again.

  “Take a breath, Miss McTighe,” he said as her wild red curls threatened to blind him. “Pray tell, what is the matter? This little fellow is entirely harmless.”

  Taking a long ragged, gasp, Julia pushed her hair out of her eyes, before levelling an accusatory finger at Potts. “That is one of the automatons that attacked my uncle last week.”

  Potts head bobbed up and down. “I think I would remember a trip to the wilds of Scotland. I can assure you, young lady I was firmly here in London during that time period.”

  Regaining some of her composure, Julia straightened her grey coat and nodded to Harrison. “You can put me down now, if ya please.”

  The agent glanced at Verity, who nodded, but nonetheless stood between her friend and the automaton, just in case.

  “Are you saying, that a machination like this one attacked Lord McTighe?” she asked. In the line of automatons there had been none like Potts, but that didn’t mean there weren’t others somewhere.

  When Julia nodded, Harrison shook his head. "And why was the Ministry not informed? Your uncle is under our protection after all."

  Julia pursed her lips. "He didn't want to bother you since there was no evidence." She fixed the agent with a hard look. "Ya keen that some in the Ministry think my uncle is a wee bit touched?"

  Verity managed not to raise her eyebrows or roll her eyes. Instead she said evenly, "So what happened?"

  "A wee brass man like that one there, found his way into my uncle's study. When he interrupted what he was doing, the little devil attacked him." Julia crossed her arms. "Naturally we defended our castle, but the thing got rather… incinerated along the way. All we had to show for it was a burn on the carpet."

  "Plenty of those in Castle McTighe," Harrison mentioned, and was immediately given a red-hot look that might have turned him into soot on the rug.

  "I can hardly be held accountable for every automaton's actions," Potts said, rolling up to nestle against Verity's trousers.

  "Not just any brass thingemewidget—one that looked exactly like you!" Julia pointed at him with her finger.

  Potts head began bobbing up and down in an agitated rhythm that resembled that of an agitated duck. “Hold on… did you say McTighe? Oh. My. Giddy. Aunt. You’re one of that lot!”

  Verity sensed the situation was unravelling faster than she liked. She didn’t want to be caught in a border war with an enraged Scot and an outraged English automaton. That was how empires got toppled.

  Ignoring Potts’ outburst, she tried to draw the conversation back to the point at hand. “Are you sure the automaton looked like Potts here?”

  Julia blew a stray curl off her face. "I could show you if it hadn't gone and blown itself up in a cloud of green fire."

  "Green fire?" Verity stomach clenched. Too many coincidences were piling up. She didn't want to talk in front of Thorne, so she cleared her throat. "That's an interesting story, Julia. Perhaps Agent Thorne should be the one looking into it, since I can account for where Potts was last week. It's probably the design de jour is all."

  Harrison looked at her with his head tilted, but she simply smiled at him. "Isn't that what you get paid for, Agent Thorne?" she asked sweetly.

  He blew through his moustaches and tilted his bowler back slightly off her face. "Hamish McTighe is a vital Imperial asset," he muttered under his breath.

  "Then thank you for bringing my friend, we're going to go and have tea," Verity said. "The Ministry calls and all..."

  "I suppose it does." He stared at her for a moment but then turned to go. After all the McTighe dynasty was important to Queen Victoria; she had a rather soft spot for the mad inventor.

  He had only got two steps before Julia called him back though. "My weapon if you please." She held out her hand while the other rested on her hip. For a fifteen-year-old she managed to seem like a schoolmarm. "You dinnae have a reason to keep it," she added, "and it's part of the McTighe experimental collection."

  From the expression on his face Harrison definitely did not want to return it, but finally he pulled it out of his pocket and gave it back into her possession. McTighe's were sometimes more dangerous than the creations they made after all.

  "No shooting at automatons unless necessary," he admonished her. "Have a fine tea and chit chat. It's what young ladies love I believe." Then he tipped his hat and briskly strode out of the garden.

  Julia stared after him for a moment before turning her attention to Potts once more. "You're absolutely sure about this wee thing then?”

  "Do you mind, I am right here," the automaton protested.

  "Absolutely." Verity tugged her over to sit on the nearest park bench. After looking around she ascertained that they were in fact alone.

  She gave her another quick hug. "Thank you so much for coming, Julia. I didn't know who else to ask."

  Resting her weapon on her lap, the Scottish girl adjusted her hat. "You said something about aether, and after what happened to my uncle, I knew I had to get on the first hypersteam south."

  "Your uncle? I didn't know that he worked with aether."

  She leaned forward. "Oh, he doesn't usually... but the automaton that attacked him... well as I said, it exploded with green fire. The kind of bright green only produced by aether."

  "I can assure you it was not me," Potts said with a strangled beep, as he clapped his hands over his chest cavity. He must guess what was coming.

  Verity would have revealed that then and there, but Julia's pistol was still in her hand, and she didn't want to lose the one clue that might lead to Uncle Octavius. She needed to work up to that particular revelation.

  “Did he build it himself, this automaton?” she asked instead.

  Julia shook her head. “He gets sent all sorts of dohickies from admirers, and this was one that just turned up. He has no idea who sent it, just that it was labelled ‘for your consideration.’”

  “So your uncle just opens mysterious packages then?” Potts broke in, his little brass hands fluttering about. “That seems rather reckless of him.”

  “He’s Hamish McTighe,” she shot back, her ginger eyebrows drawing together in a hard line. “It’s what he does.”

  The automaton let out a jet of steam that Verity hoped was his way of producing a huff, and not something else. “Mad McTighe? I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  Verity let out a soft sigh. “J
ulia, concentrate on the issue. Potts, please remain calm or you might just blow a boiler.” Sliding her hand over Julia's gloved one, she held it tight. “So it could have come from anyone?”

  The other girl nodded. “My uncle dunnae keep very good records I’m afraid.”

  That wasn’t surprising, but with a stern look Verity was able to cut Potts off before he said that. “So,” she said before the silence could be filled by more outrage, “in all your reading have you ever heard of a green flame, maybe a green aetherial flame?"

  Underneath her freckles the Scottish girl grew very pale, quite an achievement in a red-head. "You... you've seen one of those?"

  Verity nodded, but for once her friend was not forthcoming with words. At least her hand did not go to the trigger of her weapon, but the expression on her face was troubled. Staring towards the street, she took in a long breath.

  "Where?" she finally asked, her voice trembling slightly.

  Verity pointed to Potts chest cavity. She didn't want to reveal it here where anyone from the street could see the blaze of green light.

  "Don't shoot," Potts squeaked, his only defence since his was trapped in the walled garden with both young women.

  Verity's Scottish friend did not fly into a rage. Instead she rubbed at her forehead. "That makes no sense at all."

  Verity squeezed her hand, to remind her she wasn't alone. "What do you know?"

  Julia opened her mouth, and just at that moment the gate to the private garden squeaked open. Verity glanced up; she hadn't heard anyone turn the lock in the key, but the clockwork slipped aside as if she herself asked it to. She knew most of the inhabitants of the square by sight, it was just good sense to. However, the man entering the garden was a stranger to her. Maybe a guest of one of the houses.

  It was only the jumping metallic squirrel in the oak tree overhead that alerted her to something very wrong. It gave her a moment to spot the sudden gesture towards the inside of his coat.

  Grabbing hold of Julia, she jerked her off the bench. They fell in a pile to one side of the garden bed in a tangle, just as the bullet pinged off the wood where they'd been seating.