by White, Gwynn
“No!” Grayson cried, staring at the construct with something close to horror. Did he fear Solon would capture Lock again?
Lock’s wings drooped and he lowered his head, taking Grayson’s word as a reprimand or perhaps a command.
Mr. Owens grabbed the lever and pulled.
Briar shoved herself to her feet. “Lock, do it!”
Solon spun to face her and she glimpsed his surprise.
She was aware that Eli had stepped out behind her, metal pole in hand, but her attention was focused on the liquid metal now pouring from the upended ladle.
She expected Lock to sever Grayson’s bonds, freeing him to roll off the platform. Instead, Lock spread his legs on Grayson’s chest and dug in his claws.
Grayson cried out. Had the metal reached him? Certainly, a stick from Lock’s delicate claws wouldn’t elicit such a response.
Eli shouted, raising his pole, and ran at Solon.
Looking unimpressed, Solon lifted his silver hand, and the pole Eli held suddenly twisted in his hands like a large metal snake. Eli stumbled to a stop as the pole curled around his upper body, pinning his arms to his sides.
Another gesture from Solon, and a heavy chain dropped from the crane above them, its metal hook catching the bent pole that now encircled Eli’s upper body and lifting him off the ground.
Briar gasped as he was hoisted a good ten feet into the air, but another cry from Grayson pulled her attention back to him. The liquid metal had filled one end of the mold and rolled toward him, the heavy flow spilling over the sides of the mold into the vat below.
“Lock, free him!” she shouted. Why did the little dragon hesitate?
In a shimmer of silver and reflected orange, Lock began to morph into…
Briar frowned as he puddled on Grayson’s chest, mimicking the molten iron. Except Lock became liquid silver, flowing across Grayson’s skin, coating his chest, then his shoulders and down his legs. Was he just forming a barrier to protect him? Why hadn’t Lock cut Grayson free?
An oddly metallic roar sounded directly behind her.
Briar jumped and spun to face whatever it was. She thought perhaps a piece of machinery had kicked on. Instead, a shape stepped out of the shadows.
A roar had been an accurate description for the sound it made, because she found herself staring at a metal lion.
Having been around Lock, she immediately recognized it as a construct. It was a mechanical marvel with its sculptured silver body plates and mane of small, overlapping triangles. It moved with the smooth powerful stride of the actual animal, making it seem more like a living being rather than a machine. Yet there was something crude and unrefined about it. She couldn’t define what, but it wasn’t in the same class as Lock.
“Leave her be, Solon,” Grayson said, his voice oddly deeper and more…metallic.
Briar turned, keeping the lion in sight as she glanced over at Grayson. Her mouth dropped open.
He now stood beside the mold vat where he’d been tied, most of his body covered in what appeared to be silver armor. Lock?
The armor completely covered his torso and shoulders, a large part of his upper arms and the back of his forearms, most of his thighs, and the front of his shins. The brilliant silver metal was molded perfectly to his body, defining each muscle in an eye-catching display. Oddly, there wasn’t a single strap to hold the armor in place. It was almost as if it was his actual skin.
“She isn’t part of this,” Grayson added, turning to face Solon. The strange quality of his voice she attributed to the helmet he wore. It wasn’t as fitted as the rest of his armor. A slitted visor covered his face. From the crest of his helmet, down his neck, and along his spine was a series of plates shaped like slender dorsal fins. They reminded her of Lock’s raised scales on the same part of his body, though Grayson’s looked sharper.
“Not part of this?” Solon demanded. “She just commanded your construct. Actually, she overrode a command from you.”
“I gave him to her.”
“Him?” Solon frowned, glancing from her to Grayson. “What game are you playing, Drake?”
“Don’t call me that.” Grayson’s strange voice was low and dangerous.
“The process has already begun.”
With something like a roar, Grayson sprang at him, startling Briar with the suddenness of the move.
“To me!” Solon shouted.
The lion that had been watching her spun and leapt across the space that separated it from Solon. It was on him in two bounds. At the last moment, just before impact, it morphed like Lock had a moment ago. It became a liquid, flowing over Solon’s body. The process was much quicker, and in the blink of an eye, Solon was covered in similar silver armor—except his covered his entire body.
The lion’s mane was part of the armor, flowing down from the helmet to Solon’s shoulders. Otherwise, Solon’s helmet was contoured to his face, leaving his mouth and chin uncovered.
Grayson collided with Solon in the next instant, their armor hitting with the clank of metal on metal. The impact knocked them apart, but Grayson came right back, throwing a punch at Solon’s exposed chin.
In a move so fast it was a blur, Solon caught Grayson’s fist in his armored hand.
Briar flinched at the sound of Grayson’s unprotected hand smashing into Solon’s gauntlet.
“Don’t be a fool,” Solon said. His voice had a similar tone to Grayson’s, though nothing covered his mouth.
Solon closed his hand around Grayson’s fist, iron claws emerging from the ends of his metal encased fingers. The gauntlet was identical to the hand that was already made of metal.
“She’s an innocent.” Grayson sounded like he was speaking through clenched teeth. “If she is ferra, she doesn’t know it.”
Briar frowned. Ferra?
Solon looked over at her, and she noticed that the whites no longer showed in his eyes. Either they had darkened to the same gray of his irises or the iris now stretched from lid to lid. His eyes looked like those of an animal.
A chill crawled up her spine. He looked so alien, yet there was still something human about the way he studied her.
She took a step back.
“Leave her be!” Eli shouted down at them, wiggling on the hook that held him like a large fish.
Solon didn’t even glance at him.
“She’s mine, Leon,” Grayson said.
Any other situation, and she’d have a few words to say to that. But in this case, she knew Grayson was trying to draw away Solon’s attention.
“Yours?” Solon smiled, his dark eyes returning to Grayson. “Then prove it. Fight me for her.”
He released Grayson’s fist with a shove, and Grayson stumbled back several steps before regaining his balance.
“Mr. Owens,” Solon continued. “Please hold the prize while I give the young dragon a lesson.”
Owens laughed and started toward her.
She turned to run and took two strides before he caught her by her braid.
She cried out at the pain of being jerked to a stop by her hair. She reached back and gripped the braid close to her scalp in an effort to relieve the pain.
“Do something, Grayson,” Eli shouted down at them, surprising Briar with the request. She wouldn’t have thought Eli would ask Grayson for anything.
Grayson didn’t acknowledge him, his attention on Mr. Owens. “Get your hands off her, you soulless vermin, or next time, I’ll remove your head instead of your heart.”
Briar blinked her watering eyes. Grayson’s visor covered his features, but there was something in his cold tone that chilled her as deeply as Solon’s gaze. What had Solon done to him? He seemed changed.
“That’ll do,” Solon cut in. “My toy will hold yours until this is decided.”
“Listen, metal ass,” she spoke up. “I’m no one’s toy. Got it?”
Solon studied her a moment before turning to Grayson. “She lacks the manners, but she certainly has the ferra condescension down.”
“
Did you take a ferromancer for a lover, girl?” Mr. Owens whispered, close to her ear.
“What? No.” Why would he think—
“As hot as he is for you, I think you lie. Not that I blame him.” He reached around from behind and gave her breast a hard squeeze.
Briar cried out as much from surprise as pain.
“I warned you.” Grayson held out a hand to his side, then flicked his fingers.
Briar didn’t understand the meaning of his gesture. Suddenly, a slender metal pole was streaking toward them. It missed her by a fraction of an inch and slammed into Owens’s chest. The force lifted him from his feet, and the pole rammed into the side of the building, hitting hard enough to drive it into a thick wooden support timber. The impaled Mr. Owens dangled a good foot off the ground.
“Briar, run,” Grayson said.
She just stared at him, her mouth too dry to speak and her muscles unresponsive.
“Now, now,” Solon chided. “This isn’t over.” He made a gesture very similar to Grayson’s.
She flinched and looked around for a pole flying her way. Then she heard a rattle on the floor near her feet. A coil of chain had unwound and now slithered toward her.
The sight finally broke her paralysis, and she turned to take Grayson’s advice. Suddenly, the chain shot out and wrapped around her ankle. As it crossed over itself, the links fused, forming a permanent loop.
“Now where were we?” Solon asked, paying no heed to Mr. Owens’s struggles.
“Here,” Grayson answered. He held out his hand, palm toward Solon and curled his fingers.
Solon gasped, and with a frantic flick of the wrist, sent an iron bar from a nearby pile flying at Grayson.
Grayson stopped whatever he was doing and raised both hands. The bar seemed to slow, but it still smashed into him with enough force to send him flying.
“Do you remember nothing I taught you?” Solon asked as Grayson climbed slowly to his feet. “You cannot stand against a ferromancer of the final casting, Drake. And you certainly can’t reduct a soul.”
“Then why were you afraid?” Grayson had regained his feet.
“Because dragons are as unpredictable as they are rare.”
Briar’s heart pounded a hollow beat in her ears as she watched the two men face off once more. Men, no. Ferromancers. She had been right all along. Mr. Martel, Grayson, was a ferromancer.
“I won’t be your rallying figure, Leon, whatever comes of this. And certainly not if you’re going to use an innocent against me.” Grayson waved a hand in her direction, though he continued walking toward Solon.
“So if I let her go, you’ll embrace your true nature and join us?”
Grayson stopped in front of him, but didn’t immediately respond.
“Hey,” Briar spoke into the silence, and both men turned their heads to look at her. “I don’t understand a fraction of what you just said, but I won’t be anyone’s bargaining chip. Do we understand each other?”
“You know,” Solon said to Grayson, “the first thing I’d recast is that tongue.”
Without warning, Grayson lunged forward and pressed his hand to the center of Solon’s chest. The armor rippled, the wave radiating from around Grayson’s hand.
Solon cried out and threw both arms wide.
A clang came from the ceiling and Briar looked up. The beam of an overhead crane came loose at one end and swung downward—fortunately, not the crane Eli hung from.
“Grayson!” she shouted.
He released Solon, who staggered away, and turned to face this new threat. He got an arm up, but whatever his ability, he didn’t get a chance to use it.
The beam hit him square in the chest and sent him flying. Briar flinched at the crunch of impact—then she saw where he would land.
“No!” she screamed, hearing Solon echo her.
Grayson landed in the vat of molten iron, sending a splash of the glowing liquid into the air. It settled with a thick plop an instant later.
If he had tried to scream, it never escaped his throat.
17
Briar pressed both hands to her mouth, trying to hold in the whimper that wanted to escape. Grayson had lied to her, about a lot of things. Perhaps he’d had a good reason. Whatever he was, he certainly didn’t deserve to die like that.
She noticed another sound and realized that Solon was cursing, his armored hands curled at his sides.
Abruptly, he stopped and smacked a hand to his chest. The armor split along the center of his chest as if it were a shirt being opened. The metal rolled back over his shoulders, around his ribs, and up his arms and legs, disappearing behind him. An instant later, a silver sphere dropped to the ground behind him, then morphed into the lion.
Solon gave his waistcoat a tug, then straightened his coat. Finally, he turned to face her.
Briar wanted to shrink back into the shadows under the force of that angry stare, but she stood her ground.
A clank sounded overhead: Eli, still trying to get free.
“What did you do to him?” Solon demanded.
“Me? You’re the one who launched him into—” Her voice cut out so she waved a hand at the vat that was now Grayson’s tomb. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to cry or scream.
“You bent him to your will ferra witch.”
“I met him five days ago, and about half that time he spent tied to the stable wall.”
Solon frowned. “Why?”
“I was going to prove that the railroad had hired a ferromancer. I was trying to save the canals.” Her voice rose and sounded a bit hysterical to her own ears. She took a breath and tried to regain control. “What’s a ferra?”
“Not what, who.”
“All right. Who?” She lifted her brows, waiting for him to answer.
He sighed. “They are the female half of my race. More descriptively, a pack of smothering, self-righteous shrews.”
Ferromancers were their own race? And there were females?
Solon captured her wrist in the grip of his iron hand.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
A flick of the fingers of his other hand, and the chain fell away from her ankles.
“You commanded a construct,” he said.
“So?”
Solon just smiled.
“She’s got a great ass, master,” Owens said from his place on the wall.
“Shut your mouth, scum,” Eli shouted at him.
“The big man has a point,” Solon said. “Don’t be crude, Mr. Owens. Besides, I can observe these things for myself.”
“Sorry, master. A little help?” Owens gestured at the pole through his chest.
With a sigh and another finger flick, the iron pole came free from the wall and Owens dropped to the ground. He pulled the pole from his chest, then examined the slightly bloody hole in his clothes.
Solon turned away, attempting to pull her with him.
Briar dug in her heels. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Perhaps you don’t realize, but you really have no choice.”
“Why take me?”
He stopped and faced her, leaning in so that his eyes—human once more—were on level with her own. “Because you just cost me the opportunity of a lifetime.”
“Grayson,” she whispered.
“He had a talent that only comes along once in a millennium. He had the potential to change the world.”
And he hadn’t wanted to, she realized, remembering all his talk about being free. Free to make his own choices. And she had unwittingly taken that from him, yet he’d died trying to free her.
A tear slipped down her cheek, and her hand drifted to her pocket for comfort. Her pocket was empty. “Oh, Lock,” she whispered. Coming here, she’d damned him, too.
Solon glared at her, then turned, pulling her after him with an iron grip she couldn’t defeat. Eli renewed his struggles overhead.
“At least let Eli go,” she said, stumbling along after Solon. Even if Eli m
anaged to get himself off that hook, he would likely break a leg falling that far.
A reverberating crack echoed around the room. If she couldn’t still see Eli above them, she would have believed her fears had come true.
Solon stopped. A frown creased his brow, and the iron lion beside him growled softly.
Another crack, this one louder than the last, was followed by a heavy thump.
Solon spun toward the sound, pulling her with him.
She was trying to locate the source of the sound when the concrete vat exploded.
Solon released her to throw an arm up, smacking away a large chunk of concrete that had flown their way. Fortunately, she had been standing a little behind him, but she still dropped to her haunches, throwing her arms over her head.
It sounded as if someone had upended a wheelbarrow of rocks on the concrete floor as the broken chunks of the vat settled.
“Jesus,” Owens whispered.
“Holy hell,” Eli muttered.
Solon started to laugh.
Briar lifted her head and abruptly fell on her butt. Lock’s name rose to her lips until she realized that what she saw was much bigger than Lock.
He knelt in the remains of the vat, his head bowed. Horns just like Lock’s sprouted from his head, and the raised plates along his spine were tipped in gold. Taking an audible breath, he rose to his feet, a man.
“Grayson,” she whispered.
He lifted his head to display a helmet more like Solon’s with the open lower face and sculptured lines.
She pulled in a breath as his eyes met hers. His eyes were the same blue-gray they’d always been, but like Solon, the whites were no longer visible. An animal’s eyes.
“To me,” Solon muttered.
His lion tensed to spring.
Grayson lifted a hand, now encased in a bright silver gauntlet. “I wouldn’t.”
He curled his fingers, and the lion made a soft whine.
“Very well.” Solon raised his hands, palms out.
Grayson didn’t lower his arm. “I’m going to let you live, Leon, but test me again and you won’t like the results.”
Solon fisted his iron hand, pressed it to his heart, then bowed at the waist. When he straightened, he was smiling. With a nod, he turned and walked away, his lion pacing beside him.
