This Deadly Engine Read online

  When I reached the front door, I pounded on its bottom. The sound echoed in my ears.

  A blinding light filled my eyes just before darkness enveloped me.

  Chapter 2

  Quiet. Calm. Peace.

  Those three struck at once with such force that I woke with a gasp. Sitting up made the world spin and twist. When I reached to steady myself, hands took hold of my arm.

  A sweet voice followed. “Be careful, Alexander. You need to rest.”

  Who spoke? Aimee? Sheela? No…

  Then who—

  Rebecca Donnavan pushed me down onto a bed with a soft pillow. She smelled like morning dew on spring flowers. “You need to rest and recover.” She leaned over me to fluff the pillow. “Now, then, is that better?”

  I had last seen her when I loaded her in the carriage at Chen’s Dragon Theatre. Schaever included her on his list for replacement by an automaton. Had I not intervened and saved both her and her father, Schaever would have succeeded. Unfortunately, I had been unable to save her mum.

  Yet…had I seen Rebecca there? What if I had dreamt of such a time, of such a life? Was I still a canon suffering from a delusional, fever-induced dream? Was my life truly…

  A familiar ache along my right side, the ever-present scars, reminded me of the condition brought about by Aimee’s first bomb. I survived, only to foolishly fall in love with Sheela, a barmaid at Branagh’s Tavern who also served as a secret agent for elves living on the other side of the Gateway. She shot me when I offered to rescue her from the trappings of Schaever’s intrigues.

  The ache in my back reminded me of my latest gesture of kindness.

  Rebecca sat at the edge of the bed. “I am glad you received my letter.” She leaned close to better look into my eyes. “You are safe here.” Her tone dropped lower, quieter. “You are as safe as you have always made me. In the same way you have been my guardian angel, I will now be yours.” She tucked the blanket around my legs.

  The words struck deep, creating a swirl of comfort and of danger. The former, for I received the help I so desperately needed. The latter because I could not suffer love again.

  Most of all, I could not let her try to protect me. Too many wanted me dead. I would not let her stand between them and me. “Rebecca.”

  “Shhhh,” she said as she put a finger over my lips. “Don’t strain yourself. You should rest.” She sounded confident, as if taking care of me was her purpose in life.

  I tried to talk again, to tell her not to think she could protect me. Yet she kept her finger in place.

  I made a mistake in going to Saint James’. Those good people did not deserve the certainty of such danger. If the bloodhunters tracked me, Schaever would know where I hid. If they caught the scent of my blood on the front steps, there would be no doubt about my place of refuge. Schaever would stop at nothing until he tore down every brick, every stone, from the Cathedral. He would send the deadliest creations he could build.

  And the mechanical beasts I saw in his secret world frightened me.

  To stay meant death for everyone. I would not—

  Rebecca pressed me down. In my weakened state, my resistance failed. “Relax, Alexander. Nothing will bother you here. My father has taken all the necessary precautions.” She pressed a mug to my lips. “Here, drink this.”

  Thirst drove me to obey without pausing to either ask or wonder what she offered. The taste of lemon and honey soothed my throat and filled my entirety. Before I finished, my eyes closed again.

  When I woke the second time, my body felt much restored, though still not completely free of all the aches and pains.

  To the right, Rebecca read beside the table. A lone candle glowed next to her, bathing her in a soft light. Her natural smile lent gentleness to her features, though her cheeks appeared to have grown shallow. Wrinkles at the corners of her eyes spoke of unusual strain.

  She remained oblivious to my stare as her book kept her attention. The moment allowed me to watch her, to see her in a way I otherwise would not have had an opportunity. The moment revealed a quiet strength, but a great weariness. She wore the robes of a canon, and her brown hair had been cut short in the same fashion as a young man. The robes covered all traces of her curves. A layer of dirt and smudges on her face disguised her softer features. She had the appearance of recently finishing several hours of work in a garden or a dusty closet.

  When she realized I watched, she blushed. She also smiled in a way that actually stirred my heart. She hurried to my bedside and took my hand in hers.

  The rough texture of cloth kept me from feeling the smoothness of her skin. When I held my arm up, I found my hands wrapped all the way to the wrists.

  She touched my forearm. “You burned your hands on the steps. And there was a cut across your right hand. I wrapped them to keep them clean and dry and free from infection.” She touched my shoulder. “I put bandages on your back, too. The wound was so deep that it required several stitches. Healing will take some time.” Her smile turned sad. “We have medicine to help ease the pain, but Father refuses to allow an elixir near you.” She leaned close and whispered, “He doesn’t know that I infuse elixirs into my healing balms. They help speed the healing by weeks. I make sure the amount is not enough to form a quick addiction.”

  I pushed her away. “You should not help me. You should not have taken me in. I need to go.”

  The young lady’s eyes narrowed. “This is the first place you should have come, Alexander. This is the only place in Campden where you are safe. I told you as much in my letter.” Despite her words, her tone carried a hint of worry.

  What did she not want to admit?

  “You did, but I will not endanger you.” When I tried to sit, she held me down. This time, though, my strength allowed me to resist. “I am leaving.”

  “Stay, Alexander. You are not well enough to flee from Duke Schaever’s men. If you try, you will die before you reach the end of the lane. His people watch this place at all times.” She tried to push me back again. “And more so since you arrived.”

  I put a bandaged hand on her shoulder. “Rebecca, you must understand…”

  Someone knocked.

  “Yes?” Rebecca asked as she stood.

  A young man wearing the robes of a canon opened the door. His face appeared pale, as if he had seen a ghost. Or worse. “They have returned. Your father wanted me to let you know.”

  A tremor moved through my beautiful protector. “Pardon me, Alexander.”

  “What’s wrong? Who is here?”

  Sheela? Lady Elizabeth? Schaever? Frengarn? Did I truly want to know? Enemies surrounded me on all sides. What threats would they use to coerce me into surrendering?

  Rebecca paused within the doorway. Dread filled her voice. “I shall return momentarily.” The additional strain and worry on her face spoke far more than her words. She closed the door.

  The best way to learn what bothered her did not involve lying in bed and waiting. Yet I still felt weary, as if I had labored on the docks every day for a week.

  But I will not stay.

  I took a deep breath, then moved off the bed and to the door. Based on the furnishings in the room, I suspected where they placed me. The hallway confirmed my thoughts.

  I stood on the second floor of the north cloister, outside one of the guest rooms. Here, thick, luxurious rugs covered the floors. Paintings of Bible scenes adorned the walls. Crystal light fixtures hung from the ceiling. In short, only the most distinguished of guests were granted access to the area. And that made me wonder why they allowed someone such as myself to sully the beds.

  “Because they owe you that much,” the canon’s voice said. “Because they care for you that much.”

  Perhaps they cared too much. I deserved nothing more than a bed of straw on a cold, stone floor.

  As I descended the steps, voices echoed within the sanctuary. Someone said, “I have no choice. I’m telling you!” After a muffled reply, he continued, “It’s just l
ike the others. He knows. And he controls.”

  I moved down a hallway I had walked so often in a life so different from my current state that it seemed more like a dream. My bare feet touched the cold wood, stained a deep mahogany. White walls reflected the lights. When I reached the door at the end, I paused.

  On the other side awaited the magnificent sanctuary. I took a deep breath, opened the door, then entered the south transept.

  Between me and the dais with the pulpit and the lectern sat rows of red velvet-padded pews. To the left, within the nave, stretched row upon row of more pews. A series of four arches spaced equally apart drew the eyes to the ornate chandeliers and mahogany-stained ceiling some seventy feet above.

  Stained glass windows, two between each arch on both sides, reached from floor to ceiling. Each depicted one of the apostles, from Paul to Peter to Thomas.

  I did not belong in such a place, surrounded by such stark reminders of my own fall, my own misery. However, the crowd at the door of the north transept drew me forward. Bishop Donnavan and Rebecca stood among them. Several others I recognized, though I could not quite recall where we had crossed paths.

  One, a thin man with a hunch to his back said, “I have no choice. How many times must I say that?”

  Everyone focused on what happened outside to the point that not a one of them noticed my quiet approach. I stopped several rows away.

  “This is your last chance,” a man called from outside. “Either give yourself up now or I will kill this boy.”

  The canon’s voice said, “Do not merely stand and watch.”

  Bishop Donnavan took the hunched-back man by the arm. “Are you certain you want to go through with this? Duke Schaever is a trickster.” He glared at the door. “I refuse to believe he would stoop so low as to kill an innocent child.”

  Tears filled the other man’s eyes. “We are talking about the same people who tried to kidnap us. And Duke Schaever hates me.” He shook his head. “The fact that he found my grandson and brought him here so quickly tells me the threats are real. I cannot take the chance.” He pointed to the door. “Besides, the Duke would not do the actual killing. I have little doubt a magical creature cares nothing about a human life.”

  I touched Rebecca’s arm. As she turned I whispered, “What is this about?”

  She grabbed my arm and hurried me to the side. She whispered, “You are not supposed to be here! You need your rest, and you should remain out of sight.”

  “Prepare the child,” the voice outside said. A boy’s plea for help immediately followed.

  “Go back to your room, Alexander. Go—”

  “I refuse to allow it,” the hunched-back man said as he pushed by Bishop Donnavan. He threw the doors open. “Take me! Release the child.”

  The scene in the lane made my blood run cold at the same time the heat of anger arose.

  A party of orcs led by Guardsmen – Schaever’s toadies – and a pair of bloodhunters waited in the lane. An orc stood in front with an axe resting on the back of a boy’s head, ready to deliver a severing chop. Two other orcs stretched the poor lad’s arms to either side. Tears ran down his cheeks.

  While the sight of it all disturbed me, the figure standing behind them all made me suck in a quick breath.

  Reckard. My old friend.

  I had left him lying on the floor of Chen’s Theatre with a broken leg. The same scowl, the same eyes of loathing, that I saw then, I saw again.

  Rebecca squealed. She hid behind a pew and pulled me with her. She covered her mouth. “We mustn’t be seen!”

  “What is going on?” I whispered.

  Rebecca shifted to hide herself better. She appeared undecided as to whether to speak.

  I took her hands in mine. “Rebecca…” And why, exactly, did she dress as a canon?

  “You should not be here.”

  “We’ve covered that, yes. Yet here I am. And out there is a boy who needs help.” What I would have done for a power such as thick skin or the ability to fly. Anything that would help the situation. “So tell me what this is about.”

  My belly clenched when she answered. “It concerns you, Alexander.” She squeezed my hands. “Those men and those monsters know you are here. They keep demanding that my father turn you over to them. He denies their accusations. But they are determined to have you at any price. They threaten the families of those you saved at Chen’s Dragon Theatre the night of that terrible, horrible play.”

  Of course! I had seen the man who exchanged himself for the boy at Chen’s. He was one of Schaever’s victims in the carriage that Cavendish drove to safety. And that meant…

  Rebecca must have read the understanding on my face, for she nodded. “They are giving themselves up. One-by-one. Duke Schaever is getting what he wanted all along. First, he took Mum. Now…” She motioned to her clothing. “Now I’m forced to play this charade because Father has let word spread I travelled to York. He is arranging a means to send me out of town and out of Duke Schaever’s reach.” Uncertainty lingered in her voice.

  The canon said, “She refuses to go because you are here.”

  It was correct, and so I asked, “When are you leaving?”

  She shook her head, and the short crop of hair bounced. “I will not leave. I… Father needs me.”

  I took her face in my hands and made her look me in the eyes. “Rebecca Donnavan, your father is doing what is best. Let him.” When she tried to pull away, I held firmer. “Do not remain on account of me, either. I did not rescue you only to have you taken away.”

  She broke my grip. “I am a woman, not a child. I will make my own decisions.” She glared at me in defiance. “What I have decided to do is stay. Here. Where I am needed.”

  How I responded could, possibly, convince her to leave. So I spoke with a harsh and hurtful tone. “Go, Rebecca. Saving you does not mean I love you. I don’t love anyone.” Which was almost true. I didn’t want to love anyone. Love only ended with me burned and broken. Or shot and bleeding. My poor heart had been beaten and crushed and shattered too many times to hope for a mending.

  Aimee was gone. Despite the ache, I had put Sheela behind me as well. I would leave Campden and start a new life elsewhere.

  Yet I needed a way out of my current prison.

  Despite my brutal honesty, the young lady took my hands again. What she said next almost made me groan in despair. “We belong together, Alexander. I know that. I understand. You will come to see that as well. If not now, then in time.”

  “Rebecca—”

  “Shhhh!” She pressed her warm, soft finger on my lips. Again. “I will hear no more talk of my leaving. I belong at your side and with my father.”

  The doors slammed shut. Silence filled the sanctuary.

  Rebecca and I peered over the pew.

  The group remained in place, each person staring at the doors. Bishop Donnavan sighed. Finally, a woman to the right whispered, “How do they know which of us remain?”

  “The bloodhunters,” I said as I emerged from the hiding place. “They can track any scent.” When several gave me blank expressions, I added, “The dog-like spider creatures. They are every bit as dangerous as they appear.”

  “Where did they come from?” an older man with a bald head and dark circles under his eyes asked. Despite his sleepless appearance, he carried an air of authority. To add to the effect, he wore a pressed shirt, black trousers, and a black coat. He peered down his nose at the rest of those in the room. “From that cursed Gateway?”

  “Yes,” I said as Rebecca moved beside me. When I stepped forward to separate us, she followed.

  “That abomination should have been dismantled and destroyed years ago.” He stared down the aisle. He took a deep breath to calm himself. “I will not stand idly by and watch Reginald Schaever get away with kidnapping, lying, manipulating, and destroying lives. He has never accepted his proper station in life, but there is always time to learn.”

  Before I stopped myself I asked, “By k
illing the woman he loves?”

  The man paused. “She is not as dead as we were led to believe, is she? Sat and watched kidnapping on the grandest of scales possible, did she not? And all the while, she threw her version of what happened in our faces. She teased and taunted us.”

  I recognized him as one of the audience members who kept glancing at several others during Lady Elizabeth’s play about her courtship by Duke Schaever. She wrote it to show the cruelty of the students and townspeople. She meant for it to serve as her means of revenge for the steam engine explosion that essentially killed her.

  I had read Elizabeth’s journal entry detailing which character represented a person. Yet remembering what it said…

  “The jackal,” the canon said. “Lord Robert Diggerty.”

  I said the name aloud and the man nodded. “I am he, sir. And whom do I find myself addressing?”

  “This,” Bishop Donnavan said with no little pride, “is Alexander Asherton. The man responsible for saving you from whatever fate Duke Schaever planned.”

  “Automaton replacement,” I said, to which several others gasped. “He will replace you with a machine, then send it out to act as you would. Except the automaton will be under his complete control.”

  Lord Diggerty said, “Poppycock. No one is capable of doing such an abominable deed.”

  “Yes,” Rebecca said, “he can. I have witnessed it.” She slipped her arm around mine. “Alexander was with me both times.”

  Diggerty shook his head. “The fantasies of a magic addict and a foolish girl. Both of you should have your heads examined.”

  Bishop Donnavan’s face turned red. “My daughter is neither foolish nor a simpleton. What would you call me if I said that I had seen such monstrosities, too? A fool? A grief-sickened old man?” He put his hands on his hips. “Then speak, for I have seen the monsters with my own eyes.” He paused as if conflicted about what to say next. Finally, with a tinge of anger, he added, “And must I remind you that Alexander saved you?”

  Lord Diggery gave the Bishop a self-righteous sniff. “Did he save me? Or any of us? Or did he simply delay the inevitable?” He looked me up and down. “You, sir, are a victim of the decay that magic has inflicted upon this town. You are a casualty in a war that should have ended long ago. I promise that when I return to London, Reginald Schaever, and those disgusting creatures will no longer enjoy free reign in our world.”