This Deadly Engine Read online

  “I call some of those disgusting creatures friends,” I said, adding my own self-righteous sniff.

  Lord Diggerty’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, well, we can see what type of character you are. It does not surprise me that you associate with them.”

  Bishop Donnavan turned a deeper red. “Robert Diggerty! I must insist that you show our honored guest some measure of respect. He risked much to save us. I refuse to stand here and let you insult him!”

  Diggerty peered at the Bishop. “I meant no offense. I merely made the point that all who live in this town associate with those creatures in the same way a farmer associates with his animals. It is part of the curse of this place.”

  The condescending tone and superior airs helped me to better understood why Schaever and his lady held such a low opinion of Lord Diggerty and his friends. What they had attempted to do was inexcusable. Their actions unleashed a monster.

  As Lord Diggerty turned from the speechless bishop, I asked, “Have you ever stopped to consider what might have been had you simply left Reginald and Elizabeth alone? At best, he marries the girl and returns home a content man. At worst, he marries her and is shunned by his family.”

  The man laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Let me assure you that Reginald Schaever had no intention of letting things remain peaceful.”

  I nodded as if he spoke wisely. “Yet you persisted in unleashing the monster.”

  “We attempted to kill the monster already unleashed!” His voice echoed in the sanctuary. “If you saw the play, which you must have to have rescued me from that madness, then you only saw one side of the story. And you saw a very simplistic version. The truth of the matter is far more complicated.” He looked to the ceiling as he spoke in a whisper. “Reginald Schaever made our lives a living hell.”

  “Sir!” Bishop Donnavan said.

  Lord Diggerty raised his brow. “You speak of hell in these walls, good bishop. You deliver sermons concerning the dangers of an eternity in the fires of Satan. Why should I not speak of it? You preach on the temptations of the devil, how he drags unsuspecting souls down with him. Well, I stand here and proclaim that the devil walks among us. And his name is Reginald Schaever.”

  I could not disagree. The devil had tempted Reckard, and he had turned against me for the promise of a machine’s love. Schaever had plunged Cavendish’s woman into an eternal hell in a tank filled with blue liquid.

  Lord Diggerty continued, “If you refuse to believe me, then look around. The man brings misery to us all…and in the same manner he made our lives a living hell that school year. Anyone who dared to be better than him received his due punishment. A well-behaved student? The teacher suddenly found anything and everything wrong with him. The most respectable of our peers returned home with a broken spirit after only a month. The more he tried to do well, the worse his punishments became.” The man took a deep breath. “I will not recount what he endured.

  “When someone dared to score better on math or grammar, they suddenly suffered bouts of forgetfulness when the next exam came around. My grades plunged from exceptional to satisfactory, much to my parents’ displeasure. They threatened to transfer me to a different school with more demanding social standards, meaning I would have no freedoms.

  “Academics aside, woe be it to anyone who happened to run faster in the races. One poor lad’s leg fractured in ten places in the middle of a race where he ran even with Reginald. The doctor claimed that a rare bone disorder had manifested at the wrong time.” He held his hands out. “Those were the subtle acts, the first, more innocent parts of his schemes. In the beginning, we were too trusting, too naïve, to recognize what he did. Over time, however, we noticed patterns. We saw how being near him put us in untold danger. As such, we took precautions. That, of course, only made him try harder to hurt us deeper.”

  True…I had only heard Elizabeth’s version of the story. And even she could not know everything Schaever did…could she?

  Lord Diggerty sat at the end of a row. The lines of worry that crossed his forehead made him appear at least ten years older. “Strange illnesses befell us. We lost control of bodily functions at the most embarrassing of times. We became ill on the day of an exam. Study times turned into planning sessions on how best to protect ourselves. We never allowed ourselves to be alone with the young man, and we tried to make sure a teacher was present when we were with him. We succeeded in countering him for a time. Yet he escalated the matter when he turned his attention to the ladies we courted. Those incidents revealed the depths of his madness, of his immoralities, and of his depravity.” He covered his face. His tone of superiority broke in favor of sadness. “I will not…describe what he did, how he embarrassed young ladies of social standing, and how he scandalized innocent girls. I will not speak of those matters in this hallowed building.”

  Bishop Donnavan sat next to him. “We can discuss these matters in private if you wish. Perhaps you have carried this burden too long.”

  Lord Diggerty laughed again, but with a hint of madness. Rebecca shifted closer to me. “You are mistaken if you believe I carry this burden alone. All of us carry it.” He pointed to each of us. “So long as we allow the devil to live among us, we are all guilty. So long as we do nothing, we are guilty.” He sucked in a quick breath. “But no more! I knew he suspected me. He made at least two attempts to kidnap my daughter in the last ten years. I fear he has the means to succeed and bring her here so I will surrender myself like the others.” He stood, and a shadow passed through his eyes. “However I will not sit and wait for him to act. I will bring the full fury of the Empire upon him and upon this town. The days of magic will come to an end. And soon.”

  The Bishop placed a hand on Diggerty's arm. “Please. Do not let Duke Schaever’s madness consume you. Surely—”

  Lord Diggery shrugged off the Bishop. “We’ve all been consumed. We simply failed to realize how much.” He nodded at me. “Thank you for saving me. You have given me the opportunity to remember the evil of Reginald Schaever. With that memory comes the determination to finish what I tried to do all those years ago in Cambridge.” He stomped down the aisle and towards the north cloister.

  We all watched him go until one of the others, a heavy-set man with a sizeable hook to his nose, said, “I believe I will retire to my room.” He stepped in front of me. “I owe you a thank you for saving me.”

  He didn’t, actually. I only meant to save the Bishop and his family.

  “Yet, you did better,” the canon said. “So accept the gratitude.”

  A woman with red curls to her shoulders and freckles on her cheeks took my hand and kissed it. “I owe you thanks, too.” She smiled at Rebecca. “You are blessed to have such a guardian angel.”

  A man with pock-marked cheeks took my bandaged hand. “You, sir, are a gift from above. I owe you my life, and my thanks is the least I can offer in return. Lord Diggerty is correct in saying we are past time in doing something about the evil we face.” He continued shaking my hand. “There is a game of life and death still to play. And I, for one, am glad you are on our side in this.” He stopped shaking my hand so he could wipe his eyes.

  Was I on the man’s side? Or anyone’s side?

  A glance at the mark on my hand answered that question. Of course, I belonged to a side whether or not I liked it. And whether or not I agreed with what that side did or planned.

  Next, a stout man with streaks of gray through thick, black hair clapped me on the back. “Good show, sir! Good show. It takes a real man to stand against Schaever.” He nodded as if agreeing with himself. “You, sir, must have struck a real blow against him if he has grown desperate enough to do what he is doing to reach you.”

  An older woman with jowls resembling a bulldog kissed me on the cheek. “My husband means thank you for saving us. Pay no attention to Robert. He has always been too blunt for his own good. Clashed with Reginald Schaever the moment they met. Nothing good ever would or ever will happen between them.”


  Two more ladies followed, and both kissed my cheek as well. Not knowing what else to do, I thanked them for their kindness. They all nodded as if they approved of my presence, then left together.

  Bishop Donnavan approached last. He smiled in his usual, comforting way. “Thank yous that are well deserved, Alexander, even if I daresay they were merely recipients of your saving Rebecca and myself? Still, it was a providential matter, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Providential to put you in even greater danger?” I asked.

  He tilted his head in consideration of my words. “Or providential that you were driven to the one place where you could help. Besides, the only ones who know what happened at Chen’s Theatre now reside in this building. Duke Schaever will not risk letting us go free. You, sir, are a convenient excuse for him to escalate his attacks. You provide a good story of why he drags people out of this holy place.” He looked to his daughter, who seemed attached to my side. “Rebecca, I would like to speak with Alexander alone.”

  “Yes, Father.” Before she stepped away, she kissed my cheek. “And that is another thank you.”

  Under different circumstances, I would have gladly accepted a kiss from a beautiful lady. Yet…I would need to let her know my feelings again, would have to insist on them, sooner rather than later.

  I had no interest in love.

  Bishop Donnavan said, “Please, follow me.” He moved towards his study on the ground floor of the north cloister.

  The last time we met in the room, I had announced my intentions to leave the service of the Church. Though the Bishop tried to convince me otherwise, I had refused to listen. I knew what he wanted to say this time, too. And my resolved remained unchanged.

  The canon said, “Doing so could repeat your mistake. Perhaps you should heed his advice.”

  It will only lead to trouble.

  We took the hallway from the south transept. Before we entered the first room on the left, I said, “I am sorry I couldn’t save your wife at Chen’s Theatre. I had to make a choice. I had so little time.”

  The man turned to me. “While I would have told you to take her instead of me, I cannot condemn your choice or your actions. You did what you thought best.” He sighed. “And I will do what I must to save my dear Katherine. What bothers me is that I have no idea as to how to proceed in that regard.” He opened the door and motioned me inside.

  The Bishop’s study appeared every bit as exquisite and magnificent as the sanctuary. A wooden desk, red velvet upholstered chairs, a silver tea set, a wall of books and manuscripts, and a pair of golden lampstands on either side of the room all stood in the same places they had been when last I saw them.

  Bishop Donnavan motioned for me to sit before he took the teapot and poured us both a cup. “Alexander, do you remember the night you saved my daughter from the two rogues?” When I nodded, he continued as he offered the cup, “A Guardsman who appeared most strange escorted her home. Dealing with people as long as I have, and understanding the fallen nature of mankind, I believe I can read someone with accuracy. I can read the language of their body and their eyes and their words. But that night, I could not read the Guardsman other than to know the depths of a terrible nightmare had creature the creature. It said nothing as it handed Rebecca over to her mum and me, then walked off with a slight stagger.”

  “And its eyes?” I asked, recalling the chill that reached to the bones the first time the marble eyes of the automaton fell upon me.

  The Bishop nodded slowly as he walked to his chair. “You already know what it was.” He paused. “For the first time in my considerable years I faced unnatural life. The non-humans were one matter where life was concerned, but the creatures built by Duke Schaever are another matter entirely. They are an abomination to all creation.” He held a hand up before I interrupted. “I made my own inquiries into the matter, for my concern has always been for the well-being of the good people of Campden. I had to know if the creatures presented a threat.”

  I ignored his request to remain silent. “The night of the play confirmed your suspicions.” What shock must the man have felt to know…to learn…the extent of Schaever’s schemes. How deep did it strike him?

  Bishop Donnavan sipped his tea and let my statement hang in the air. He placed the cup on the desk with a shaking hand. “Actually, long before the play, I learned much concerning our town’s benefactor. I learned the nature of his betrothed, of the abomination of her mechanical nature. I learned how Duke Schaever had already killed several people involved with the explosion that claimed her life. I learned secrets the man hoped to keep quiet. Thus, when he requested that I perform his marriage ceremony, I refused.” He looked at me with eyes filled with pain. “My answer has caused my family to be threatened. He is determined to be married here and insists that I play my part.”

  “I put you in more danger.”

  “On the contrary, your arrival here has shown me that my actions are correct. You provide a much needed reassurance.” I responded to the contrary, but he waved my words away. “Did you know that the more I discovered about Duke Schaever, the more I found a tortured soul in need of salvation?”

  How could anyone feel sympathy for such a man as Reginald Schaever? Yet…Bishop Donnavan always saw something good in every person. Even me. Which explained why I had such difficulty looking him in the eyes.

  As if he read my thoughts he said, “Alexander, I will not deny my concern for you. Why do you live a life of crime? Why do you choose to pursue ends that leave you in the state we found you at the front doors? Hunted by creatures wanting to rip you apart? Hunted by men who desire the riches offered by a mad man? Wanted by a man who stops at nothing, not even death, to get what he wants?” He paused again. “Is this the life you desire?”

  Why would any man desire such a life? Yet what say do we genuinely have? “It is the life I deserve, Bishop. It is the life I have been given.”

  “You might feel as such, but you can embrace a different life. You can reclaim that which you once knew. All you need do is return to the Church.”

  Now I did meet his eyes. “My presence would taint the Church. My life would stain her purity.”

  The man raised a single brow. “Only ones without sin deserve to belong to her? You know the foolishness of such a statement. The Church is comprised of sinners: liars, hypocrites, thieves, deceivers, manipulators, adulterers, murderers. I could go on, but you understand. What better place for the anguished soul to find rest than in the salvation offered here?”

  The canon said, “The Bishop is a wise man. Listen to him. Heed his words.”

  “No,” I said to both of them. “There is no forgiveness for the crimes I have committed. Why would the Church welcome me when my life has become the consequences of my actions?”

  What I wanted to ask, but did not, was, “Why am I cursed to live such a life? What had I done to deserve such punishment?”

  The Bishop said, “Forgiveness is always offered. You only have to humble yourself and recognize who you are and what you need. We do not always understand the workings of providence, Son. We simply need to respect that God works to His ends, to the good of His people.” He regarded me with a curious look. “Do you believe luck brought you into my daughter’s path so many times over the last year? Or perhaps the Lord’s hand guided you even if you refuse to admit such a fact?”

  The canon said, “He is correct. You were granted the right powers at the right time. Accept this opportunity to correct the biggest wrong in your life. Do what you should have done all those years ago.”

  I told the Bishop, “I am glad to have been able to help. It is the least I owe you and your family.”

  He held a hand up. “You owe us nothing, Alexander.” He paused to take another sip of tea. When he spoke again, he asked the question I dreaded most of all. “What are your intentions in regards to Rebecca?”

  I would not admit how much I had thought of her, or of how many times I had thought about the uncloth
ed doppelganger from Schaever’s monstrous lab. “She is a lovely girl. She always has been. Do I regret not taking our courtship seriously while in your employ? I would lie if I said I did not. Yet I have wondered and pondered many different scenarios for my life since I left here.” Weariness settled over me. Perhaps it indicated I still recovered from my wounds. Or the state of my life pressed heavily on my shoulders. Or both. “I have been given cause to do so as I fled Guardsmen, broke into homes, argued for my life, and regretted so many decisions that I would go mad if I paused to consider their totality.” Why I admitted such, I could not say with certainty, but I did feel better. I had no one else to whom I could lay bare the state of my soul.

  He nodded slowly. “You could not call yourself a man if you never considered certain paths and regret certain choices you made in your life. We all ponder such matters.” He sipped his tea again. “The measure of age, the fullness of wisdom, is how one handles such regrets. Does he lose himself in misery? Does he strive to make today better than yesterday? Does he acknowledge that life is the summation of his choices and that he must deal with the consequences, good and bad? Does he recognize sovereignty and the decrees of the Lord for himself and for all people?” He took a deep breath. “Sometimes wisdom is a man realizing when life presents him a second chance.” The way he spoke, the underlying tone, made my heart beat fast.

  But I could not…I would not… Why did he believe I deserved such forgiveness?

  The Bishop continued, “Saving a lady from death or an enduring, life-long humiliation changes her heart in a powerful way. You witnessed such an occurrence when you rescued your first wife from the assassin. Imagine how much the heart transforms when you save a lady twice? What feelings, what bonds, what hopes result from such acts of bravery? And not merely with her, but also with those charged with overseeing her well-being?” He leaned over his desk. “Alexander, you are a better man than you want to admit. You have been hurt, you have made mistakes, and you have fallen as far and as hard as anyone in the history of this world. Even the great Nebuchadnezzar was brought low but found redemption. You have an opportunity here. To make the case even stronger, you have the favor of a lady to whom I have a particular fondness.”