Into the Ether (17 page)

 

When I woke again, my nose was buried in the rucksack and tiny explosions were going off behind my eyes.
I groaned and sat up slowly, using the wall as a support.
My mind still whirled with the images and pictures I had seen.
The curator had given me something important all right.
And despite all my earlier scoffing at his refusal to give it up, I had to take back my words.
Some things
were
worth a life.

I gathered everything together, careful not to touch the box directly again.
I wrapped it up and shoved it in the bottom of the bag.
I held my breath and tried to stand, throwing the straps of the rucksack over my shoulder.

Pain spiked through my eyes and dug into my brain.
I pressed the heels of my hands to my
face
and gritted my teeth.
I had to get a move on.
The darkness of the sky, or what I could see through the perpetual haze, seemed to be black.
I hoped I hadn't been out long.
Digging through my pockets, I located the pocket watch and checked.
One thirty.
Two hours.
I'd been out a long time.

My heart pounded an equal tempo at my breast and my temple.
I paused at the mouth of the alley.
Where to go?
I had no home, and I couldn't go back to the museum.
At best, people would offer me sympathy and asked what happened.
At worst, they would believe I had been the culprit.
I couldn't risk it.

Terry.
I could go where our message spot was.
If he'd been able to leave me anything like he planned, it would be there.
At the
very
least, it was a familiar point to regroup and start over again.

I slipped through the shadows, hugging the soot-encrusted walls and trying to stay out of the pools of warm light that the gas lamps cast.
Every so often a steam auto would pass, and I held my breath each time,
certain
it was someone coming for me. When I finally reached the
familiar
alleyway near the docks, it was with a sense of relief so acute my knees felt watery.
I
didn't
bother to take the rucksack off.
I reached down int
o
the
crates, looking for the small
,
beaten
tin that Terry and I hid in a gap between two loose bricks.
Sure enough, my fingertips traced the cool outline and wiggled until it slid free.

I opened it, dreading the empty interior I expected.
Instead, my heart leapt when a
ripped scrap of
paper
lay
folded
inside.
I pulled it out, replacing the tin.
A rustling noise several feet away had me spinning, poised to run, my pulse thundering in my ears.
I
saw
nothing in the darkness between the buildings.
Nothing moved, the noise
ceased
.
With a sigh, I took a few steps toward the entrance.

And
stopped short
when
Lord
Kreios
stepped
from a shadow.
Even in the dim light his polished boots and brocade waistcoat glittered and winked with wealth and menace.

“
Oh, Genevieve.
I'm a little disappointed.
E
veryone has a bit of clockwork in them.
The curator had his
metal man
,
b
ut you, my dear
,
have the most clockwork of all.
Because if you know just which buttons to push and which keys to wind, you will perform
just as predicted
.”

My body tensed and I shifted my weight.
I could probably jump the distance between him and the wall.
He'd lunge, but I was small
er
and faster than him.

Spiros' outline appeared at the mouth of the alley.
Defeat tasted bitter on my tongue.

Kreios
smiled.
"
Go
on.
Run.
It's what you've become best at.
You tried deception, but
I'm afraid
you
don't have
the knack for that.”

He took two long strides and drew close enough for me to smell his cologne and see the details of the swallows on his
polished
gold pocket watch.

Swallows?
My brow furrowed
and my fingers traced the outline of my own smaller watch hidden in my pocket.

I lifted my eyes to his and was surprised to find him staring over my head.
As he cursed, warmth surround
ed
me like a bubble.
Hot metal hands jerked on my arms, and I fell backwards against Thomason's molded body.
He pulled me into
what had been a solid brick wall a moment ago.
It slid back into place, c
utting off the image of Lord Kr
e
i
os' angry curse.

“Thank you, Thomason.”
I'd never meant anything more in my life.

Large eyes bobbed in the inky shadows and then turned away, lighting a path through the strange tunnel we'd entered.
Pounding echoed around us as Lord Kreios beat on the wall.
I hoped he tore his hands on the brickwork.
The
note weighed my pocket like a
stone
.
Every step I took seemed loud in my ears.
I hadn't been able to save
anyone
.

Not yet, anyway.

****

Thomason led me deeper into the
tunnel.
It was dark, and the only illumination was the yellow pool Thomason cast.
I couldn't tell where we were.
These tunnels were old.
Moss coated the damp walls, and the stone beneath looked hand-h
ew
n and older than the walls in other parts of the city.

I don't know how far we walked, but after what I thought was around ten minutes the tunnel stopped and opened into a more modern area.
It seemed familiar but I couldn't place it.
Thomason motioned to a beam stretched across one wall.
I sat down, moving the pack to rest between my legs.
Thomason untied a large bottle from his waist and began refueling.
A metal box at his waist emanated heat, and I assumed it held a few extra coals.

I unfolded the note I'd been clutching in my hand.

“Thomason, can you give me a little light?”
I asked when he had finished with his task.

He nodded and leaned over, his eyes staring at the paper.
I tried to ignore the feeling of intrusion.
He couldn't help it.

 

Miss Bond,

As you know by now, Colonel Worthington is dead.
Terry is still in my possession, and I would like to offer his safe return in exchange for the box I am certain you now carry.
I believe this offer is more than fair.
I will be outside the factory, with Terry, at ten a.m.
It
'
s in Willesden Green.
If you'd like to save him from a similar fate
as
Colonel
Worthington
, I suggest you appear with the item in question.
It
'
s no use to you.

Lord Kreios

 

A shudder ran through my body.
For a moment, the world spun.
Then an idea began to glimmer and a smile broke across my face.
For once, Lord Kreios' low opinion of me would come in handy.

If I could have hugged Thomason
,
I would have.

“Do you know how to get to Lord Kreios' factory?
It's
in
Willesden
Green.”

Thomason stared at the note a moment longer and I could hear a faint whirring and clicking noise inside his metal skull.
It stopped and he nodded.

H
e rose and began walking in a different direction than we had come.
I
crumpled the note in my hand and shoved it into the rucksack, throwing it on my back and following.
For the first time in days
,
I felt in control of something.
The feeling was heady, and I felt better than I had for a
while.
I could do this.

I may not have been able to save anyone else, but I would save Terry.
And if I worked it right, I wouldn't be breaking any promises to anyone.

 

We walked through the tunnels for what seemed like hours.
My initial excitement and determination diminished as my foolproof
plan
developed cracks the longer the minutes stretched.
What if it didn't work?
What if Terry was already dead?
How could I keep him from surrounding us both and taking us captive?

Different solutions moved through my mind, but nothing seemed right.
I could take a gun, but chances
were
good I'd just end up shooting myself in the foot.
I knew how to use one.
Justin had insisted we all learn in case desperate times forced us to protect ourselves.
But I wasn't good with them.
They had such a kick that the one time I'd tried I'd ended up numb from the elbow down for almost a half an hour.
I could use a knife, but truth be told, I
didn't
want to have to hurt anyone.
I would, for Terry, if I had to.
But I hoped it wouldn't come to that.

I was smarter than Kreios wanted to believe.
Now I just had to prove it.

Thomason stopped so abruptly I almost ran into him.
He pointed and I noticed a metal ladder marching up the side of the tunnel to a steel grating above.
The sky between the metal rods was a deep purple.
Dawn approached.

I climbed,
cautiously
pushing the grate up with my shoulders.
I poked my head
out
and looked around.
We were coming
out
in a sidewalk near a couple of well-kept brick buildings.
I assumed we were somewhere on the outskirts of the city.

Thomason followed me, carefully replacing the metal cover.
He waved a hand and I followed him to a dark doorway
. T
he door had been nailed shut.
Thomason held a finger to his lips and motioned for me to stay where I was.
I nodded and he slipped into the darkness.

My ears strained in the darkness for the smallest sound that might warn me of police or anything else that could slow me down.
The last thing I needed right now was another complication.

The sky to the east began to blush with the warm hues of dawn and my heart pounded in my chest.
I took the moment to pull out the jar of balm and fresh bandages and unwrapped
my
hand, dropping the soiled rags where I stood.
Littering was the least of my worries.
I flexed my hand.
The curator's medicine had done wonders.
The burn was still a little red in places, but overall a thin layer of pink scar tissue had formed.
The worst of the burns had been on my palm, and I coated it with cream and wrapped
it
with more cloth, leaving my fingers free.
They probably needed a few more days under wraps, but I needed the freedom of movement more.

A steam auto puttered down the road, coming closer.
I pressed back into the fading shadows of the doorway.
Fear pulsed in my
veins
and I bent my knees, my muscles bunched and ready to run.

The auto, a battered hack with a smoke stack that spewed smuts like
black
snow shuddered to a halt in front of the store front.
Thomason jumped from the inside.
He held open the door and waved frantically at me.

The figure on top was
draped
in a green
corduroy
coat covered in blotchy grease stains.
I thought him a hack driver until I drew closer and saw the shiny
,
black boots and fine silk trousers peeking from beneath the coat.

“Who are you?”

He turned, and I caught the impression of green eyes.
“Just a friend of yours.
And the
colonel's
.
You can call me
Ephraim
.
I'll take you where you need to go.”

Thomason rattled the door and waved to the coach again.
I grabbed the door handle and glared at the man driving.
“You're not on Kreios' payroll?”

A sharp bark of laughter caught me by surprise.
He pulled the cloth from his face, revealing a thirtyish man with a ready smile and the look of someone who got little sleep.
“Good Lord, no.
The only way I'd like to be in the same room as that man is if he
was
chained to a chair and I held all the weapons.”

“Good enough.”
I told him and climbed inside.

Thomason followed me.
I stuck my head out the window as the auto started down the street.
“Do you know where we're headed?”

He nodded, and I caught a glimpse of a dark expression on his face.
“Yes.
I know where we're going.”

I clutched my bag to my chest the entire time, praying I hadn't just made a huge mistake.

“You know him, don't you?” I asked the automaton.

He nodded vigorously.

“Is he trustworthy?”

Another nod.

“Alright then.”

I tried not to wonder about when I had
decided
to put my trust in Thomason.
I still didn't understand why he hadn't been there to help the
colonel
.
But I had a suspicion that he'd been given a similar order to m
ine
. Get
out and run.
It made sense.
The things he could do with a
clockwork man
I didn't even want to think too hard on
.
Of course, it also made it seem as though Thomason was far more aware than I had believed.
And that was a thought I didn't want to contemplate too much yet.

We rattled along for a good twenty minutes. I used the time to pull the replica out of the bag.
I sat it in my lap, my fingers tracing the lines of Phillip's handiwork.
My
chest ached
, but I'd shed my tears.
There wasn't time to let loose more.
I had things to do.

Besides, Phillip might have escaped.
He would have heard the commotion.
Perhaps he had gotten out.
I latched onto the flicker of hope and held fast.
He would be okay.
I had to believe it, or go hysteric
al
, and there was no time for that.

Thomason watched me, his metal head cocked to one side.

“Listen.
This is the plan.
I'm going to use the replica.
You're going to have to stay in here, if I can convince your friend to help us out.
We need a way
to get out quickly, and he's our
best chance.”

Thomason just s
hook his head
.

“You have to stay here.
If Kreios sees you, he'll want you.”

Another shake.

“Did the Colonel tell you not to be seen by Kreios?”

The automaton tilted his head the other way.
I could almost swear he was laughing at me.
He shook his head again.

I huffed.
“Then did he make you promise not to be taken?”

This time he nodded.

“Fine time to be making distinctions.” I muttered.

I shifted the box on my lap.
“You know more than me, I think.
Will this fool them?”

Thomason didn't move.

Shifting in the seat, I peered out the window.
Cutting a glance his way, I noticed he stared at the box in my lap.
He seemed to be examining it, as if he were well acquainted with the original.

“Let's hope it works long enough to get Terry out.”