Agatha H. and the Airship City (11 page)

Gil ignored this interplay, as he was struck motionless by the thoughts triggered by the logic of the Jägermonster’s words. With a quick shake of his head, he dismissed the idea. His father had said—

“Hey, hyu gun carry dat gurl all day?”

With a start Gil realized that he was clutching the unconscious girl tightly in his arms. He looked up into the leering face of Günther. Awkwardly he handed her over and, lost in his thoughts, failed to notice the excessive care with which the old soldier placed her in the wagon and covered her up with Moloch’s coat. “Ve’s ready to go, sir,” he announced.

Gil looked up. “Pick one of you to wait here for the owners and the crews to collect the clanks.” He glanced over at the steaming ruin. “We might still be able to learn
something
. When the owners get here, have them lock the place up and bring them to me. Assure them we’ll pay for any damages.”

After the inevitable game of sock-paper-scissors, the Jäger who had allowed himself to be socked slouched against the doorway rubbing his nose as the wagon began to roll out.

Gil suddenly yelled, “Stop!” The Jägers looked at him in surprise as he scrambled aboard the wagon and bent over the two unconscious figures. Gently he lifted Agatha’s hands and examined them closely. Though she had scrubbed them, there were still ample amounts of grease and oil under her fingernails and embedded within the lines of her palms.

A similar inspection of Moloch’s hands revealed grime, yes, but no evidence that the owner had recently worked with heavy machinery.

Thoughtfully, Gil climbed back out of the wagon. After a moment he indicated that it was to move on without him. Günther protested, “Hyu poppa vould skeen us alife! Und I dun meen dat in a goot vay.”

“What would he do if he found out you’d assigned him guards after he told you
not
to?” The two appraised each other. Gil waved his hand. “I’m just going to walk a bit behind. You can keep an eye on me.” Günther nodded reluctantly and the wagon started off.

As they pulled ahead of Gil, Günther whispered fiercely to the others, “Dun mention
notting
about dis mawnink. Not de fonny schmells, not the clenk schtarting op,
notting!
Dis iz schtoff for de generals.”

The others looked surprised. “Hokay.” they agreed. Günther nodded in satisfaction and looked at the young man following the wagon, a look of concentration on his features. The young master was going to be trouble enough.

CHAPTER 4

Hide the women! Hide the beer!

The Baron’s great big thing is here!

It’s huge and fat and long and round

And you can see it from the ground.

It flies way high up in the air

He rides it here, he rides it there.

And every mad boy lives in fear

That Klaus will stick it in his ear.

—Popular tavern song

Agatha blinked and stretched. Her mouth tasted metallic. She opened her eyes fully and stared at the ceiling, something was different. The light—

Suddenly a hand roughly clasped itself over her mouth. Her eyes jerked around and saw that the hand belonged to the soldier who had appeared in her father’s shop. A sudden surge of memories, as well as the current situation made her twist and flail about.

Moloch dropped forward, pinning her arms to the bed. “Quiet!” he hissed.
“Quiet!
I’m not gonna hurt you unless I
gotta—
but I
will
if you act
stupid!”
With this he tightened his grip upon Agatha’s face. Having little choice, she froze, and then sagged. Her eyes stared at Moloch like those of a frightened animal. The hand relaxed slightly. He continued. “Now I’m gonna take my hand away. I’m giving you
one
chance.
Don’t Blow It.”

After a second, he released her face. Agatha licked her lips, but said nothing. Moloch relaxed slightly, but still pinned her arms. Agatha noted that he had been cleaned up, his beard trimmed, and an attempt had been made on his hair, but it was the sort of hair that defeated anything but an all out tonsorial assault.

He was dressed in a large sturdy labcoat, which Agatha realized she had seen on Wulfenbach staffers that had visited the late Dr. Beetle’s lab.

When she still did nothing, Moloch continued. “Good. Now
listen
. We’ve been taken prisoner by Baron Wulfenbach.”

Agatha frowned. “Why?”

Encouraged by this response, Moloch sat back, allowing Agatha to sit up on the bed and rub her arms. “Because of that clank I’m supposed to have built back in Beetleburg.”

“You
built that clank?”

Moloch snorted. “Of course not! But the Baron
thinks
I did, and I’m not going to tell
Baron Wulfenbach
that
he
made a mistake. So I’m his madboy until I can make a break for it.”

Agatha saw the wisdom in this, but—”What does he want you to do?”

Moloch looked up at her with grim humor in his eyes. “He wants me to build him some more clanks. He wants to see what I can do in a
real
lab with
proper
materials.”

Agatha cocked an eyebrow and her mouth twitched upwards. “Ho. You
do
have a problem.”

Moloch observed the smirk and he leaned forward in satisfaction.
“We
have a problem, sweetheart. He
also
thinks you’re my little assistant.”

“What!”
There was no way Agatha wanted to get involved in anything like this. She leapt up and threw open the door. “Forget it! You can just get out and—”

It was a soft “woo!” from the outer room that brought her up short. Turning her head, she saw that the door opened out into a large common room. Easily two dozen people, mostly children, along with a sprinkling of young adults, were casually gathered around several long tables which were set for a meal. All eyes were riveted upon Agatha. A sudden cool breeze dragged her eyes downward to reveal to her that she was dressed in naught but her underclothes. With a squeak she slammed the door closed and, blushing furiously, turned upon a grinning Moloch.

Grabbing a blanket off of the bed she fumbled with it awkwardly. “Do… do those people know you’re in here alone with me in my
underwear?”

Moloch made soothing motions with his hands. “Don’t worry about your reputation.”

Agatha drew herself up. “I most certainly
will
. I have
never—”

Moloch cut her off. “They
already
think we’re lovers.” The blanket dropped from Agatha’s hands as she swayed in shock. Moloch took the opportunity to survey her critically. “You’re not really my type…” he sighed. “But I guess I’ll just have to fake it.”

“Why should I let
anyone
think—”

“Because
I
didn’t build that clank!” Moloch leaned in and whispered triumphantly, “Your
father
did, didn’t he?”

Agatha rocked back. “My father?”

Moloch nodded. “That was his shop, wasn’t it? Before I woke you up I saw the wheels he’d taken off the tractor, and when you told it to put me down, it
did
it. It followed your orders.” He paused for a second as an idea hit him: “Did
you
build it?”

Automatically Agatha answered honestly, “No, but, Adam—”

“No buts. Unless you want me to inform the Baron where he can get a
real
madboy to take my place… ?”

Agatha looked into his face. “You
wouldn’t.”

“I
will
. Unless we got a deal.”

Agatha stared at him with loathing in her face, but could see no way out. It explained so much. Adam and Lilith had been scared to death of encountering the Baron. Everyone knew that Klaus collected Sparks, when he wasn’t defeating them. The longer she gave them to get away from Beetleburg… “Yes.”

Moloch closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Good.” At that moment Agatha realized how tightly he’d been keeping his fear in check. She felt a flash of sympathy for him. There were numerous stories of innocent people who had come to the attention of those with the Spark. None of them ended well.

Moloch continued, “So, the way the Baron figures it, I’m your boyfriend and I built you that clank because you were mad about the Baron killing this Dr. Beetle guy. You see any loose ends?”

Agatha slipped her glasses on. “Hm. Yes. You had a friend.” The reaction this statement got astonished her.

Moloch wheeled furiously and looked as if he would strike her, but with great effort he held himself in check. “My
brother,”
he said menacingly. “And we don’t have to worry about him,
you
saw to
that!”

Agatha found herself pressing up against the wall as Moloch advanced towards her. As he talked, he fished around in his pocket. “And if you’ve got any hopes about
me
going the same way, you can just
forget
it.” Triumphantly he pulled forth Agatha’s battered locket. “It’s been
deactivated!”

“My locket!” Agatha reached for the locket, only to have it snatched away and stuffed back inside Moloch’s coat. “Give it back, you thief!”

Moloch smiled coldly. “Oh no, sister, that’s my
ace
. You’ll get it back when I leave here
safely.”

“What do you
mean,
it’s been—”

Moloch interrupted her. “Omar was my
brother,
but he
did
steal from you and hit you. I’ll admit that. You help me get outta here and we’re square. Mess with me and I’ll have company at the Waxworks, I
promise
you.” He turned towards the door. “I gotta get going. I’m not even supposed to be here, so…” He thought for a second with his hand on the door handle. He glanced at Agatha and a mischievous smile came to his face. He opened the door and spoke loudly. “Okay, that’s enough kissing for
now,
doll. I’m glad you’re okay, but give me a chance to rest up and we’ll celebrate properly
later!”

With eel-like swiftness he was out of the room and had the door shut before Agatha could reach him. Furious, she yanked open the door and almost collided with a tall reserved-looking man who had obviously been just about to knock. A raised eyebrow was his only comment as to her attire. Quickly she scooted back behind the door and peeked out.

“Miss Agatha Clay?” he enquired with an upper-class British accent. Agatha nodded.

“Good morning. My name is Ardsley Wooster. I have the honor of being Master Gilgamesh Wulfenbach’s man. Now that you are awake, he requests your presence in his laboratory immediately.”

Agatha looked at him with trepidation. “Gilgamesh Wulfenbach? Wants to see me?”

“Yes, Miss. Immediately.”

Agatha looked back into the room and then down at her outfit. “I’m not going out like this. I’m not… not dressed.”

Wooster smiled. “Of course not, Miss. There should be a package containing clothing and toilet articles from your home on the dresser. I shall wait until you are ready.”

Agatha glanced at the dresser. There was nothing there. She quickly surveyed the room. It was about six meters square, and contained two beds, separated by a nightstand, two tall armoires and two dressers. The side she had awoken in was bare, but the other had obvious signs of an occupant. Portraits of aristocratic-looking people and an impressive castle adorned one wall. A rack of fencing foils were hung with a display of awards. An ornate family crest was displayed over the bed, which was covered with a sumptuous quilt. The other dresser was covered with a tasteful array of books and knickknacks.

She turned back towards Wooster. “There’s no package there. I don’t see it anywhere.”

A mild look of consternation flitted across Ardsley’s face. “If I may, Miss?”

Agatha pulled back the door and hid behind it as the man stepped into the room. He quickly scanned the room, stepped around the bed, and opened the armoire. Empty. He bent down and looked under the beds. Nothing. With obvious reluctance he opened the other armoire. It was neatly stacked with clothing and other items, but nothing that could be called a package, and he closed the door without disturbing anything within.

“My apologies, Miss Clay, it appears that your clothing has been… temporarily misplaced. If you will excuse me.” With that he backed out, closing the door as he went.

Less then a minute later there was a soft knock and a redheaded girl poked her head in. She spoke with a faint Irish accent. “Hello. I’m Sleipnir O’Hara. Mr. Wooster here says that you be needing some clothes.”

She stepped into the room. She was wearing a mechanic’s work suit, with a toolbelt around her waist; kneepads, wristbands and a pair of goggles pulled up onto her head completed her outfit. She had an embroidered Chinese robe over her arm. “Your Mr. Wooster reckons that we’re about the same size, so you can borrow something of mine.”