Hounds of Autumn (25 page)

Chapter 42

C
hloe recognized the two officers
in the cart as the ones who were at the bog with Camille’s body. Each officer held a rope that had been looped around the hound’s neck. Both were pulling in opposite directions, trying to keep the ropes taut as the hound reared and struggled. A third man moved around the cart, pulling first one rope and then another and fastening them to metal ties at the edges of the cart.

The hound was not making any of it easy on them. It bolted and pulled, yanked and thrashed in an attempt to escape. Its jaws snapped whenever a man got too close and there were shouts from the officers as well as the townsfolk who watched the struggle. The cart was moving slowly, but judging from the whites visible around the horse’s terrified eyes, it was better than the alternative.

A small crowd had gathered and was growing by the moment. Whenever the hound lunged, someone would scream. Two other officers came through the crowd and called out to their colleagues in the cart. The largest of the men had a cricket bat and he muscled through the crowd, which parted easily for him.

No. They couldn’t be allowed to destroy the creature. Chloe pushed closer. The crowd was thick now, everyone craning their necks and pushing. Someone stepped hard on her foot.

“Come see the monster!” screamed one boy to another and they jumped up and down, trying to get a better look.

Chloe called out, but her voice was lost in the commotion. She pulled a woman back and shoved her way past a man, squeezing her body far too closely against his.

“I say!”

She ignored him and the other cries and shocked looks as she forced her way forward in a completely unladylike fashion. She pushed herself inside the innermost circle of people and emerged only feet from the hound. Its optical apertures were fully dilated, and its mouth opened and closed, exposing all of its teeth. It looked every inch the terrible monster.

The police were oblivious to her shouts, and the man with the cricket bat was climbing up the back of the cart. In a moment, he would be inside.

Chloe held her split skirt with one hand and leaped onto the side of the cart, wedging her feet into the bottom slats and clinging as best she could. As one, the crowd gave a startled cry and the officers shouted at her, waving her off. She ignored them.

The hound had turned to look at her, momentarily distracted from its escape attempts.

“There, there. It’s going to be all right.” She forced her voice into a calm tone she did not feel. She tore off her hat and tossed it away. Maybe without the hat, the hound could recognize her more easily. She wished that she had the head scarf she had worn that night, which seemed so long ago.

The hound paused and its ears swiveled. Its head cocked to one side and it closed its mouth.

“That’s better,” she said and leaned forward slightly.

It lunged for her. It came to the end of its rope in an instant, but managed to twist its head sideways and grab the hem of her skirt, which was protruding slightly under the bottommost slat. She hung on with one hand and with the other, tried to pull the cloth free. The hound shook its head, rending the cloth with a slow tearing sound. For an instant, she was amazed at its realistic canine behavior. But the next instant, she felt the piece of cloth tear free, followed by the thud of wood against cloth-covered metal.

The officer with the cricket bat stood over the hound, which was now bent down. Its eyes dilated, constricted and dilated again. The hound gave a low moan and lowered its head. The man raised the bat high.

“Stop it!” Chloe cried. A man from the crowd tried to pull her backwards off the cart, no doubt thinking he was helping her. She kicked at him and felt her foot connect with what she hoped was not his face. The motion threw her off balance and she grabbed onto the topmost slat hard to keep from tumbling head over heels into the cart. Her reticule swung crazily, and once she steadied herself, she pulled the cord over her head so the strap was diagonal and it was snug against her body.

“Finish it off!” cried a woman in the crowd.

“Kill the monster!”

“Inspector Lockton wanted it alive!” Chloe shouted in her loudest voice. She had no idea if it was true.

The man with the bat stopped at a command from another officer who had his hand up. The other constable looped a third rope over the hound’s head and fastened it. The hound was lying on the floor of the cart and one of its ears hung at a wrong angle. Copper wires stretched from its head to the base of the ear which twitched now and then. The officer with the bat climbed out of the cart.

Chloe jumped down, hoping to follow them to the police station. It was the only place they could be taking the hound.

She caught a flash of blue from the corner of her eye.

“Just who I was looking for, Mrs. Sullivan,” said Constable Bell. “I’ve been searching for you.”

“It looks like you have found me. Now, I need to go to the police station immediately.”

“That won’t be a problem at all, as that is exactly where I am taking you.”

The crowd had moved forward and the cart was pulling up in front of the police station.

“What do you mean? And where is Miss Haynes?”

“Miss Haynes went home on my orders. And I am placing you under arrest.”

“What? What are you arresting me for? I have done nothing.”

“Escaping for starters. Let me tell you something.” He started to walk her toward the station. “Running makes you look awfully guilty. And I am under orders to arrest anyone from that house who tries to run, be it stable boy or the master himself.” He was enjoying this far too much. But it got her closer to the hound, and that was not necessarily a bad thing.

“I wasn’t running away from you. I had to take care of something. I want to talk to the inspector.”

“The inspector isn’t going to help you. And you’ll be talking to the sergeant.”

They waited to the side of the station doors as the officers pulled the hound from the cart, maneuvering him over the threshold. They pulled it down the hallway to the last room and Constable Bell followed with Chloe in tow.

“It’s a lucky thing you are fond of that creature, as you’ll be in the holding cell next door to it.”

“You presume too much from too little information, Constable Bell. Aside from circumstantial evidence, there is nothing that proves me to be my husband’s killer. I am innocent.”

“I’ll leave that to my superiors.”

They entered the holding cell room to find the men trying to pull the hound into one of the cells. They were making little progress. The hound had regained its strength, or perhaps it had been faking injury, as it now struggled and thrashed. One man had a broom and was trying to push the creature through the door with it.

“Get the bat!” one of them called and another ran out the door.

“Wait!” Chloe ran forward. “I think I can help.”

“You again! Get back. It’s liable to kill you,” said one constable. He looked at the place where part of her skirts had been ripped away. The ankle of her boot was exposed. He glanced away and then took another stab with the broom handle. “It tried to eat you.”

“I think it may have been trying to pull me into the cart.” She knew it was unlikely, but it was possible. Theoretically.

“What is going on in here?” said a man in the doorway.

“Sergeant,” said Constable Bell. “I need to speak with you immediately.”

“What we need to do immediately is to get this creature under control.”

“But Sergeant, it’s urgent.”

“No, this is urgent.”

Constable Bell scowled but said nothing.

“Please don’t destroy it,” said Chloe, touching the sergeant’s arm. “I think I can turn it off. That will keep it intact. For scientific purposes.”

The sergeant turned to her and studied her.

“You think you can control that thing?”

“I believe so.”

The man with the cricket bat pushed past them and without hesitation, cracked the hound over the head. It groaned and staggered forward, its front legs collapsing under it, followed by its hind legs. Someone pushed it into the cell, where it tried to get up.

“Again!” shouted one of the constables. “Hit it!”

“No. Stop,” the sergeant commanded.

He gave Chloe a sharp nod and she rushed forward. She dropped before the hound and rolled it onto its side. Its eye apertures were constricted and its ear hung by only a few wires. The remaining ear was at a wrong angle and twitched.

“Get back. We should hit it again. It could get up!” said one of the men.

“That’s why I’m here,” said Chloe, not taking her eyes from the hound as her hands slid over its chest and stomach. “It was beaten before, but then found renewed strength later. If I find the switch to cut its power, it won’t be getting up again at all.”

She didn’t hear anything, but the sergeant must have given a gesture and the men stepped out of the cell. She was having no luck locating a switch on its chest or stomach, though she did find something odd. The cloth cover over the abdomen was a flat panel of fabric held closed by a fastening. That in itself was not so strange, but the fastening was a simple long dark bone button fitted through a narrow cloth loop. The threads at the edge of the cloth loop were loose, as if the button had been fastened and unfastened many times. She reached for it and the hound lifted its head and took a weak snap at her hand.

“Now none of that,” she admonished. She undid the button and pulled open the cloth cover but found no switch, only a metal cover panel. She examined the seams of the hound’s cloth covering for any indication of a switch. Could it be that Camille had created it without one?

She found a cover fastening where one leg joined the body and undid it. She found the other three and had part of the covering off the hound, leaving its belly and upper legs exposed.

“I’m going to need a tool kit,” she said, an idea coming to her. “Even if I find a switch, I’m going to need to remove these panels and verify that the power rerouting couplings are intact, and then deactivate them. Also, the autonomous gear panel needs reworking. This thing has power reroutes that will allow it to heal itself, in a fashion. As you saw outside, it was beaten, but then it rerouted its power to allow it to fight once more.”

It was all bluster with no meaning, but she counted on them not knowing it.

“Get her a tool kit,” said a familiar voice. Inspector Lockton knelt on the other side of the hound.

“Just the man I was hoping to see,” she said. “I have a little problem and I hope you can help me.”

“If you mean your arrest, then no. I cannot help.”

“But I am innocent. There’s no evidence. This makes no sense.”

He did not answer, but stood and stepped back.

She pulled most of the cloth covering off of the hound’s body and moved around to be near its back so as to unfasten it and pull the cover off the head. She saw a puckering of fabric near the base of the neck, right where three seams met. She worked it with her finger. Once the cloth was pulled aside, she nodded in satisfaction.

“There’s the switch,” she said and flipped it. The hound stilled with a slow groan.

A constable set a toolbox near her and she dug around for the right size screwdriver and started working at the screws. She was certain that the hound would not rise again, but this was a good sight better than talking to someone from behind bars.

“Now, Inspector. What is this madness about an arrest?” she asked.

The sergeant ordered everyone out except Constable Bell and Inspector Lockton. He stepped forward but did not kneel down as Lockton had.

“It seems that there is a good amount of evidence against you, Mrs. Sullivan,” said the sergeant. “There is simply too much for us not to hold you overnight, as we cannot risk you running. And of course, you will not be allowed to leave town tomorrow as planned, as the evidence against you is mounting.”

“Mounting? What on earth do you mean?” she stopped working on the hound. She glanced over at the inspector, who looked pained but was trying to conceal it.

“Someone has come forward and told us about the loud rows you had with your husband. Also, about much of your unrestrained and, frankly, wild behavior. We understand that your husband wanted to keep two separate residences and that he was on the verge of contacting his solicitor to change the amount you would inherit upon his death. He would only be leaving you a modest sum.”

“Those are filthy lies. Who said this?” But she was sure she already knew.

“I cannot say, but the person will testify under oath.”

“Oh, I’m sure. You know this is wrong, don’t you?” She turned to face Inspector Lockton. “You know it. Are they pressuring you for an arrest? Is that it?”

Lockton looked at a yellowed map of the moor pinned to the wall. She was sure that he was acting under orders from his superior, and it galled him.

“Why in the world would this mysterious individual be privy to this information when no one else is?” she said. “Why are you wasting time with invented domestic squabbles? Interview my maid, my husband’s valet, anyone else in that house and this silliness will dissolve into the air.”

“We have people on it now.” The sergeant gave Inspector Lockton a look that sent him through the door, presumably to resume questioning the family. “In the meantime, we cannot risk you leaving town.”

“Then send a guard home with me. I won’t run.”

“You already ran from one of our guards, so your word on that is, shall we say, questionable?” said the sergeant. “But for now, I need you to get that hound to a state where it cannot harm anyone again. I’ll send someone in momentarily to keep watch.”

She got back to work, removing the hound’s chest cover panel. The sergeant left the room, and for an instant, she realized she was alone. The room had no windows, standard for a room that housed prisoners. And even if she escaped into the hall, the building would still be full of police officers. Besides, the hound was here, and she could see every single part of it. The prize was in her hands.

The interior of the hound was more complex and more beautiful than she had dared imagine. She understood most of the systems on sight, but some took further examination. She wished she had a notebook, or at the very least, a pad of paper in her reticule, but her heart was beating hard and she had the feeling that she would never forget what she saw. The design was elegant and complex, efficient with both space and energy while incorporating multiple complex modules and systems into interlocking larger systems.