A Clockwork Heart (26 page)

“Is anyone we know not here tonight?” Elle asked Loisa.

“We had better go and see how your father is faring,” Loisa said. “Hopefully that breaking glass has killed the witch once and for all.”

“Let's hope we are so lucky,” Elle said. She looked back at the wreckage and bit her lip. About half a dozen Suffragettes were sifting through the rubble, looking for the other pilot.

“There is nothing you can do for him now,” Loisa said, who could see better in the dark.

“As always, you are the voice of reason, Loisa,” Elle said, feeling suddenly and utterly exhausted. “Let's go and collect Hugh. I want to go home.”

CHAPTER 35

Patrice stood in the shadows under a tree on the opposite bank of the Thames. He watched the dirigibles plunge to the ground and shook his head. What a debacle.

He bunched his fists at his sides. Once again the Oracle had ruined his plans beyond the point of redemption.

There was one consolation though. At least this time, he could blame it on
La
Dame
Blanche
when it came to reporting to the Consortium
.
The Consortium, Patrice chuckled. These men, the captains of industry; rulers of the world's stock markets—how utterly foolish of them to place such an important project in the hands of a mere woman.

But it mattered not, because for once, he, Patrice Chevalier or Sir Patrice Abercrombie as he was also known, had come up trumps.

He closed his eyes and felt the surge of dark magic flow through him. The energy that flowed through him was more powerful than anything he had ever imagined. No wonder Marsh had always been so smug.

He chuckled lightly, but this time the wound in his chest did not hurt. He had sent a little bit of his own magic to the area and he seemed to be healed up entirely. This filled him with much excitement, for he was one of the few people in this world who knew the true secrets of the Council of Warlocks. For years they have been nothing but an impotent group of posers, pretending that the power they had once yielded still existed. They were nothing but a bunch of stage magicians putting on a show.

But all that was about to change.

A smart black car rumbled up the road and came to a halt before him.

“Evenin' sir,” the driver said.

“Ah, Mr. Chunk. I am so very pleased you found me.”

“Not at all sir. Always a pleasure to be of assistance,” Mr. Chunk said. He hopped out from behind the driver's seat and opened the door for Patrice.

Patrice settled into the back seat with a sigh.

“Where to sir?” Mr. Chunk said.

“Hmm. King's Cross station. I think I might go up north to have a look at my factories there while I'm here.”

“Very well, sir,” Mr. Chunk said as he took his place behind the wheel.

Patrice sat forward. “Actually, we might stop off at Madame Colette's first. It's on the way to the station, is it not?”

“It most certainly is, sir,” Mr. Chunk gave a small chuckle of amusement.

“Yes, I suddenly find myself in possession of a raging appetite. And they do serve a splendid plate of roast beef there too,” Patrice mused. It was true. He did suddenly feel better than he had in a very long time. He sat back and lit one of the little black cigars he loved so much. He felt the smoke fill his lungs and he breathed out with deep a sense of satisfaction as the current state of affairs dawned upon him.

Hugh Marsh had been turned into one of Clothilde's undead creatures. It was unlikely he would survive. And that meant that Eleanor was alone. The Oracle was alone and unprotected. Stubborn and immature, she was ripe for the plucking.

A slow smile spread across Patrice's face. Just think of what he would be able to achieve if he could use her to channel and amplify his newfound power. The thought sent shivers of pleasurable anticipation through him.

But he would have to plan it carefully. Nothing could go wrong and so he would take his time before making the next move.

“Mr Chunk. I have changed my mind. Could you please see if you can book an air ticket for me while I am at Colette's?”

“Council of Warlocks, sir?”

“Yes, I need to go to Venice without delay.”

“Very well sir. First class?”

“If you can,” said Patrice. “But speed is more important than comfort in these circumstances. Is that understood?”

“Understood sir,” Mr. Chunk said as he negotiated the London traffic.

Patrice sat back and watched London rush past him from the seat of his luxury motor. It had stopped raining and the whole city was shimmering and icy-wet under the bright light of the moon. The sight of it was extraordinarily pretty after the fog and ice.

Yes, things did indeed go very well for him this time. And now it was time to seize the day.

CHAPTER 36

The monastery felt eerily empty after the deafening crash of the dirigibles outside. The gaping hole in the glass roof caused freezing cold air to fill the building. Elle shivered as they crept along to the narrow corridors.

“Stay close,” Loisa whispered. “I still don't trust this place.”

“Neither do I,” Elle said.

Outside thunder rumbled ominously. Elle and Loisa looked at one another. “I suppose she is not dead after all,” Elle said as they reached the laboratory.

“Dr. Miller, Papa? Are you in there?” Elle called.

“Down here,” the faint answer came.

Elle rushed down the stairs and into the laboratory. “How are things going?” Elle said. Her voice echoed through the room, loudly.

“Shh!” the professor said. “We are at a very delicate stage of the procedure.”

Marsh was laid out on a long operating table before her. His handsome face was as pale and still as a wax death mask. The only sign of life in him were the rubber and brass tubes protruding from his chest. The tubes were connected to the large machine that groaned and belched air into him at regular intervals.

Elle bit her lip at the awfulness of the scene before her. Seeing him like that was almost too much to bear.

“Right, doctor, are you ready?” the professor said, seemingly unfazed by the bizarre situation they found themselves in.

“Wait!” Elle interrupted. “Are you sure you have the correct heart?”

The professor sighed. “Yes, my dear. It was the one marked with the corresponding number marked on his arm. The one that woman picked out. Now let us get on with it. We really don't have a lot of time.”

“Doctor, on the count of three,” the professor instructed, resuming the procedure.

Dr. Miller pulled back his shirtsleeves and reached into the glass jar before him. Carefully, he wrapped his hands around the heart suspended within the illuminated blue liquid. It was an act, so strangely intimate, that it made Elle gasp.

“Better look away now,” Loisa said

“No, I need to see,” Elle said, bracing herself”

“One … two … three!” The professor flipped up the connector switch and a series of valves started moving vigorously inside the professor's device, which he had installed onto the side of the table.

“Extracting the clockwork now!” In one swift move, the professor lifted the clockwork heart out. The little device whirred and spat globules of dark blood all over the white aprons the professor and the doctor were wearing.

Marsh jerked violently, but remained restrained by the fabric bindings that held him to the table.

“Now, doctor. When you are ready,” the professor said.

Dr. Miller nodded and lifted the heart from the liquid. Every so gently, she eased it back into Marsh.

“Insertion complete,” he said lifting his hands out the way.

“Reattachment sequence commencing.” The professor flicked another switch and the machine started humming. Soon the smell of burning flesh filled the air as the probes cauterized and sealed up tissue and muscle.

“Apply probes,” the doctor said.

A little squiggle of smoke rose up as they sent a little current of spark through Marsh.

“Now the rest of this is up to you, Hugh. Will your heart to start beating,” the professor murmured.

Everyone stood very still as they watched for the needle of the beat measurement gauge to move.

Elle was too frightened to breathe. And then, in the space it took for a miracle to occur, the needle lifted.

 … thump-thump … thump-thump.

Marsh's heart had started beating with the slow steady rhythm that promised that all would be well.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Elle gasped. She wanted to jump up and scream, but she forced herself to stay calm. She glanced over to Loisa. The Nightwalker was smiling from ear to ear.

“Let's close that chest wound,” the doctor said. “Hold that side, professor. “He started removing the tubes, all the while stitching up the hideous gaping hole in Marsh's chest as he went.

“Not so fast,” a voice said behind them.

Elle and Loisa swung round.

La
Dame
Blanche
was standing behind them on the stairs.

“Oh, not you again,” Elle said.

“Surrender!” Loisa said. “Your airship has crashed and your army is defeated. There is nothing more here for you.”

“
Au
contraire,
” she said shaking her head. We most definitely have unfinished business. The warlock is
mine
!”

“He is certainly not!” Elle said.

Before Elle could do anything, Loisa hissed and lunged at the lady. They fell to the ground, hissing and scratching at one another.

As quickly as she could, Elle ran to the metal cage and undid the chain that held the door shut. Clothilde and Loisa were still rolling around on the floor. Every now and then Loisa gave a squeal of pain as Clothilde hurt her.

Elle stepped around them. “Loisa! Quick. Now!” She shouted.

Loisa shoved Clothilde up and rolled out of the way. In that moment Elle grabbed Clothilde by her long white hair and shoved her into the cage with the undead.

“Not so much fun being in a metal cage, now is it?” Loisa said. She was kneeling on the ground, panting.

“Loisa, are you all right?” Elle said.

She nodded and rubbed her throat. “I am much better now, actually.” She stood up and straightened her clothes.

“He's waking up,” the doctor said.

“Loisa, hold this door for me please,” Elle said. She ran up to the table where the doctor and the professor were undoing the bindings that held Marsh.

Marsh groaned and opened his eyes.

“Oh my darling,” Elle whispered.

His eyes, no longer milky white, focused on her and for the briefest moment, they connected.

“He's very weak and he needs time to recover …” the doctor started saying, but he was interrupted by Clothilde laughing.

“Very good work, doctor, but you have no knowledge of this procedure and without my will, he is not going to survive,” she said.

“Take cover!” Loisa shouted in the split second before the cage exploded.

Clothilde rose up from the rubble in a whirl of white hair and tattered darkness. A terrible halo of blue lightning crackled around her as she hovered over them.

She lifted one bone-white arm and pointed at Marsh.

By flesh and heart and skin and bone

The warlock will be cursed to wander the borderlands alone.

By the four corners of this world and the next,

May he live yet may his heart not beat in his chest.

Ever searching, never to rest.

I call upon the specters of fear and doubt.

To cast all resolve and courage out.

May they curse those they may,

And let misfortune guide them, until the end of days.

Clothilde waved her arms and an inky swirl of cloud boiled above them. Hard icy rain started pelting down, stinging exposed skin where it hit.

“I cast this curse three times over!” She screeched and pointed at them.

Elle held onto Marsh shielding him from the harm with her body as she braced herself for what was to come. It was all she could do as the bright blue bolt of energy hit them.

Clothilde started laughing again. “The warlock is no longer your husband. He is mine and we will retreat to the Realm of Shadow forevermore.” She was breathing heavily as she reached up into the air before her, as if she were going to open a set of curtains. Elle felt the barrier between Shadow and Light rip and she gasped in agony at the sensation.

“I thank you, Oracle for your life force. It makes opening the void so much easier,” Clothilde said.

But before she could do anything more, a rush of air filled the room, pushing the rain and clouds out of the way. Elle caught the dank odor of rotting plants and forest floor as white light poured through the opening that Clothilde had created.

To everyone”'s astonishment, Old Jack stepped through the barrier, carrying his lantern and a bundle slung over his shoulder. Without batting an eyelid, he shoved Clothilde out of the way and she fell to her knees.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Stop her, little Oracle,” Jack said. “It's the only way. Use the silk around your finger. Do it now, before it's too late.”

Elle closed her eyes. She slipped her fingers round her wedding band, feeling for the invisible strand that bound her to Marsh.

“I'm sorry my love,” she whispered and then, using all of her strength she pulled at the filament to release it. She felt a sharp agonizing pain in her chest, tearing at her insides.

Marsh let out an inhuman wail beside her as she felt the bond between them split and fall away.

“I love you. I will always love you,” Elle said. And then, with resolve she did not know she possessed, Elle pulled at the strand. It came away into her hands, thick and strong like a hangman's noose.

Jack was right. Now was the time for action. Before Clothilde could react, Elle rose up and faced her. The raw energy that poured through the rent was splashing through her. It felt like she was standing under a waterfall that gushed and swirled around her, filling her with exquisite power.

When she found her voice, it projected with such power that it echoed through the entire building.

“I am Pythia. I am the Oracle. Hear me!” Elle's voice boomed.

Clothilde looked up at her and her face filled with fear.

“Lady of the White … You have broken the laws of the two realms. You have interfered with the natural order of things. How dare you show your face before me?”

Clothilde stood. She was still shaking, but her face had grown hard with resolve. “I dare and I will. Do not think you can frighten me, madam. I am far older and more powerful than you are.”

“You will heed me!” Elle said. “Undo this curse and restore this man to his former self. This I command as the One who holds Shadow and Light together!”

“Never!” Clothilde spat. “I do not care what you do to me, but the warlock will be mine!” With that she screeched and launched herself at Elle clawing and screeching.

The two of them rolled on the floor in a cascade of light and shadow. They rolled on the floor until they hit the wall on the other side. Clothilde rose up. She was holding Elle by the throat, pinning her to the wall.

“And now you will die, Oracle. And with this opening in the void, all Shadow creatures will be free,” Clothilde hissed.

Elle gasped as the last of the air was squeezed out of her lungs. Clothilde's white bony fingers digging into Elle's flesh, choking her. Darkness loomed on the peripherals of her vision. Death would be hers if she did not react.

“No … you … will … not …” Elle managed to say. Then, raising her arms, she looped the glowing rope in her hands around the lady's neck. Her mind went blank as she grabbed both ends and pulled as hard as she could. This was a fight to the death.

The lady's sea-green eyes widened with surprise as the rope seared through her hair and into her white skin. She made a horrible gurgling sound.

Purple electricity cracked over Elle's forearms, singeing her skin, but she did not care. All she could think about was ridding the world of the evil that was this woman once and for all. They stood there, locked in this deadly embrace for long moments.

Clothilde wailed and screeched like a banshee as each woman fought the other's hold. And then, quite suddenly, the rope sliced cleanly through her neck. There was a massive blast of white light that blinded everyone .

Everything went silent.
La
Dame
Blanche
was no more.

Elle fell to the ground, singed and wide-eyed.

“Is it over? Is she really dead this time?” Loisa sat up and looked about.

Elle did not answer, but around then small tatters of the lady's robes sifted down around them, like soft little feathers.

Marsh grunted and crawled away into the shadows.

“Hugh!” Elle croaked and made to follow him, but he hissed at her.

She held back, extending her hand toward him.

He grunted and shuffled forward pulling himself up to his full height as he stepped into the shaft of moonlight that fell through the huge windows as the storm clouds vanished form the sky.

Outside, the soft sounds of the Battle of Battersea reached them. From the whoops of joy, it sounded like the right side had won, but somehow everything, including the victory felt hollow and distant.

Elle felt her heart constrict with fear and doubt as she beheld the effects of the Lady in White's parting curse.

Marsh's heart may have been back and inside his chest, but the man was gone. All the vibrancy and vitality that had so been such a quintessential part of him was washed out of his face. He stood perfectly silent, hunched up in his tattered carriage cloak. It was as if every part of him that had belonged to the Realm of Light was gone. Only remnants of Shadow remained in the wraith that stood before her.

“Please, let's go home my love,” she whispered. “We will find a way to fix this.”

He stared at her with a dark fierceness that made her blood run cold. “I … cannot,” he said. His voice was nothing more than a hoarse rasp that sounded like it came from very far away.

“He is not your husband any more, little Oracle,” Jack said softly. “And now you owe me a third favor. Three times three.” He rubbed the front of his cloak which was none too clean. “Looks like I got here just in time. You should never have left me behind like you did,” he admonished.

Elle ignored the old Fey. She reached out to take Marsh into her arms, but he stepped back, with his arms out to stop her.

“Must go to the Shadow … Better … Safer for you.” His voice came to her, soft and haunting, like the whisper of wind through conifers.