Heart of Iron (28 page)

Will slowly straightened, the muscles in his body rigid. Teeth ground together, his eyes flaring wild, he reached for the cable with the other hand, each movement slow and precise, as if he had to force his body to work properly.

Come
on
, she whispered silently, her hands clenched at his side. Barely twenty feet away now.

“Bloody ’ell,” Lowerston said, sounding slightly awed. “’E’s doin’ it.”

“Not for long,” Mendici snarled, snatching an ax off one of his men. He strode toward the edge of the ledge, fist curled around the wooden haft. Not that it would do much good against a verwulfen in the full grip of the battle-fury. “Time to meet the Gatekeeper.”

He swung it—not at the heavy iron cable, as she’d expected—but at the timber pulley that held it rigged to the wall.

The timber sheared away, hitting the floor then jerking out into the gaping darkness of the chasm.

“No!” Lena screamed.

Will flew away into the darkness, his white shirt like a wraith. He hit the far side of the cliff, sliding several feet down the cable. Then he shuddered and plunged into the darkness below.

Seconds later—what felt like hours—she heard the splash as he hit the water and the hungry thrashing sound of whatever lurked below.

Nineteen

Will crawled out of the water with a snarl, his hands coated with grease and blood and a steel tentacle in his fist. His ears still rang, and the pain in his cheek told him he might have broken something. Fury boiled in his blood, along with the creeping lassitude of the aftermath of a rousing fight. He ignored it.

Forcing himself to his feet, he stared down at the limp steel tentacle. Whatever the hell that had been, it was vicious. He’d barely found himself in the water before it was on him, steel limbs thrashing and reaching for him.

He couldn’t remember much of the fight—he never could, really, beyond flashing images of sight and sound—but he could vaguely recall the gaping maw that sucked in water to fuel its steam-driven core, and the razor-sharp threshing blades of its teeth. Smashing his fist straight through the thin steel sheeting of its body. The burning exhale of steam in his face as he tore a tentacle off it, using the weakness of the rivets to his own advantage.

That was where inventors made their fatal flaw with the metal monsters and automatons they created. For a metaljacket, it was the hinge of their knees and arms; for the steel-squid, it was the segmented join of the tentacles to its body. Tear that apart and all you had was a wounded shell that flopped around like a turtle on its back.

Destroying it hadn’t been without cost, however.

Will staggered against a stalactite and pressed a hand to his side. His fingers came away sticky, a result of those iron teeth. Every muscle in his body throbbed with the ache of the fall and the way the smooth surface of the water had felt like he plunged onto heavy cobbles.

He wanted to stumble to the ground and sleep away the hurt. A fatal weakness for his species. Almost unstoppable once they were in a full fury, barely cognizant of injury or pain, verwulfen dropped like stones after the excitement wore off.

Will wiped the blood out of his eyes and staggered forward. Couldn’t sleep. Not yet. Lena was out there. He’d heard her scream as he plunged toward the water, heard the soul-shattering loss in her voice as she cried out.

Whoever had her—and he was starting to get an idea of their identity—they were going to wish they’d never dared touch his woman.

***

They traveled along tunnels worn smooth from feet.

She saw none of it.

The men spoke and laughed amongst themselves, clapping Mendici on the back as though he were a hero.

She heard none of it.

She existed only in a world of dull color and muted sound, seeing Will tumble into the gloomy pit again and again.

He couldn’t survive that. Could he? The thought made her feel ill, a heavy weight sitting on her chest until she was afraid she couldn’t breathe. Oh God, what had she done? She’d blown that bloody whistle, afraid for her life, knowing that he would come for her and make everything safe for her again. But he hadn’t. He wasn’t invincible. No matter how quickly he could heal, how strong he was, he was only flesh and bone in the end, the same as she was.

I’ll always come for you.
But this time she was on her own, for Will was…lost. She couldn’t think of the alternative or she’d break, becoming a blind, shivering thing, hovering in her own misery. She had to survive whatever was coming, had to find him, find out if…

She shook the thought away and looked up, trying to focus. Light bloomed ahead. A heavy iron door hung in the shadows, with a man guarding it. She glimpsed cold steel. His hand, a gauntlet of metal, with heavy, slatted plates to his elbow.

Mech work.

Cold etched its way down to her bones, but she felt strangely removed. To endure she’d wrapped away that part that was screaming in grief and forced her mind to work analytically. To examine, understand, find a weakness…

Mech
. The word whispered in her head
. A mech
. Bound to the enclaves and forced to work out their contracts to pay for the technology that had given them life or limb. Less than human, the Echelon decreed. Kept out of sight and out of mind.

“Well met, brother,” the guard said, stepping forward and clasping Mendici’s arm. His curious gaze slid over her. “They’re inside. Waiting. You weren’t followed?”

“We
were
,” Mendici replied. “The Gatekeeper’s probably picking the remains of ’im out of ’is teeth.”

Another stab to the heart. Lena sucked in a sharp breath. She couldn’t go there, to that cold, empty place deep inside. Not yet.

The stranger nodded, running his gaze over the ragged group. “Get yourself something to warm your bellies. I’ll take her through.”

“I believe I’ll come,” Mendici announced, tucking his thumbs behind his belt. “I’m wonderin’ as to what this is all about.”

“Himself’s in a curious mood,” the stranger warned.

“I’ve as much a right to be there as ’im. I’ve as much a right as any free man.”

“You can explain that to him. Come.” The stranger gestured to her.

Shoving open the iron door revealed a room in the middle of all the tunnels. Crates were stacked floor to ceiling, and candlelight flickered, warming the shadows. Its glow stretched only so far, though. She couldn’t see where the walls began. Only an endless maze of crates.

The murmur of voices drew them out of the darkness like a beacon. Mendici rapped at another door, his gaze dropping away. Not as confident as he appeared.

A slit in the door slid open and a single gray eye stared through. Then the slit slammed shut and the clicking of a lock sounded.

“You’re late.”

The voice was soft, melodic. A man used to the well-toned inflection of command. The door opened and light spilled through, blinding her for a moment.

“Had to take care of a little something,” Mendici replied, stepping through.

Lena glared at his back. His dismissive words hurt. Will was more than a
little
something
. Brave and strong and stubborn, he had more worth in his little finger than Mendici had in his entire body.

“This her?”

Lena felt the shove from behind as she stepped through the door. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the light. The room beyond held an enormous table ringed with twelve chairs and the remains of a meal. A pair of women looked up from the table, one sprawled with an arrogant grace in her chair and the other rifling through a sheaf of notes. Her hands were stained with ink, her eyes warm and dark with curiosity. She wore a pair of tight men’s trousers and a white shirt cinched against her lush curves with a gray tweed waistcoat. A pair of magnifying goggles were pushed back on her coppery hair and her right hand was a metal gauntlet, the fingers moving with a delicate grace Lena had rarely seen. A gold pocket watch drew the eye to her breast, but Lena was certain the effect was unconscious.

Another
mech
.

The other woman wore a black leather coat, buttoned up the left breast with brass buttons. Gleaming epaulets crowned her shoulders, and her boots encased muscular calves. She flicked the ash on her cheroot, her catlike hazel eyes raking over Lena. One glance and the cold gaze moved on, lip curling dismissively. “You wasted all that effort on
this
?”

A man stepped out of the shadows, the same man who’d answered the door. His hand curled over the woman’s shoulder, slightly possessive. “Patience, Ingrid. That’s no way to treat a guest.” The voice shivered across the skin. A man used to hypnotizing people with that alone. A showman.

A patchwork coat framed his lean body. At first glance the coat looked shabby and mean, but Lena hadn’t spent hours grinding her teeth in boredom over her sewing for nothing. The coat was deceptively fine, the patches quite deliberately placed, she was certain. A stained cravat spilled from the open throat of his shirt, and his black gloves were cut off at the fingers, revealing the tanned skin of his fingers.

But that was not what drew her eye. A leather strap held a monocular brass eyepiece over one eye, his mouth hidden by a brass and leather half mask. Together they obscured his face so that all she could see was one piercing gray eye. His hair was the same dark copper as the first woman’s.

“A guest?” Lena demanded, shaking off her dull wits. “Your hospitality is somewhat lacking. Who are you? What do you want with me?”

“You wished to see Mercury, did you not?” His hands spread wide, palms facing her.

The words stole the breath from her lungs. “Mercury? You’re Mercury?”

“And you, my delightful Miss Todd, are a rather surprising little package.” His fingers absently stroked Ingrid’s thick brown hair. “This is one of our little pigeons,” he murmured to his comrade. “A protégé of the resourceful Mr. Mandeville. And quite resourceful herself. She’s the mind and hands behind our gift to the Scandinavian embassy.”

The way he acted, the slight edge of mocking humor that curled over every word… It made her teeth grate. He’d kidnapped her from the streets when she would have gone willingly. If he’d simply asked, Will would be sitting in the warren, dining with the rest of her family.

Tears sprang into her eyes. The praise was meaningless, the entire
cause
was meaningless. She could summon nothing but grief. “Why the charade? Your men could have asked me to come. One mention of your name and I would have been willing.” A dark glare at Mendici. “You’ve destroyed my guardian’s carriage, knocked my footmen unconscious, and…hurt a man I consider a friend. Now you assume I should have some goodwill toward you remaining.”

Mercury’s fingers froze, the smile faltering. He glanced at Mendici as if in search of explanation.

“Her guardian’s a bleeder,” Mendici replied with a sneer. “If I could, I’d smash every one of his pretty little carriages. And your so-called friend, my dear, clearly weren’t human. Not to have taken on Percy in such a way, or to cross that cable so swiftly.” His lip curled. “I don’t trust her.”

“Yet you expect me to trust you,” Lena retorted. “I don’t think I want any further part of this. I thought the humanists wished to be equal, but you don’t. You want to reverse the social order instead, to grind the Echelon and the blue bloods beneath your heel. To make of them slaves, or little better.”

“To make them dead,” Mendici snapped back.

“They’re not all inhuman,” she replied. “I have met some few who I consider trustworthy and heroic. My own brother-in-law is the Devil of Whitechapel and considers his men his family. My guardian is equally kindly and treats his thralls with respect—”

“See?” Mendici snarled to Mercury. “She’s a friggin’ bleeder lover! I’ll bet she’s whorin’ for ’em. Daresay if we ever locate that man’s body we’ll find he’s into the first cycle of the craving. Certainly didn’t like the screamer none—”

Lena turned on him in a rage, her fists clenched. “Will is not a blue blood, you filth. If you had half his courage—”

“Enough!” Mercury roared. He pushed away from the wall and threw a dark glance at Mendici. “I believe I gave orders that you and your men were to seek a warm belly and bed. Why are you here?”

Mendici crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Some of the men are wonderin’ about your latest orders. And the lenience you’ve shown the last batch of blue bloods we caught.”

“You’re questioning me?” The words were silky soft. Deadly.

“Me and the men, we don’t like it none.” Mendici scowled. He held up his mech hand. “You promised us revenge, for this. For those hell-spawned enclaves. We didn’t risk our lives, lose our friends, to break out of the enclaves for nothing. I want blood. Blue blood. I want to see all their heads on bleedin’ spikes.” He pointed a finger at her. “Why’s she so important?”

“Because she is a set of ears where we have none,” Mercury replied.

Another sneer. Mendici took a warning step forward, his hand slipping to his side. When it came up, he was holding a pistol. “There’s some as says you’re growin’ weak. Merciful. We’ve been talkin’, me and the boys—”

A pistol retorted.

A small red hole bloomed in the middle of his forehead and, mouth agape, he slowly toppled backward. The clatter of his steel-plated jerkin as he hit the ground jarred her nerves.

Lena scrambled backward, her spine hitting the wall. The room was still as everyone in it turned tentative gazes toward the woman with the smoking pistol.

Her ink-stained hands didn’t so much as shake as she lowered the weapon. Lips thinning, she gestured to Ingrid. “Get rid of him. See that the others understand what we do with those who speak of mutiny here.”

The brunette ground her cheroot out and rolled to her feet. Lena hadn’t realized until that moment how tall the woman was. Nearly a good inch on Mercury, with broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. Only the lush curve of her breasts and hips saved her from a masculine figure.

Wrenching Mendici up by his arm, she threw him over her shoulder with the same amount of effort Will might expend. “You’re certain of this, Rosalind?” she asked. “The men liked him.”