Odette Speex: Time Traitors Book 1 (7 page)

“Listen, Odette, Drake’s—”

“It’s okay. I can handle Drake.”

He snorted. “Well that’s a relief. Considering he’s the biggest megalomaniac the world has ever known.”

She wasn’t listening to him. She took several deep breaths and gazed out the window. Only one dirigible was now docked at the platform above. It was as large as an ocean liner. Graceful and elegant, it swayed gently in the wind. “Do they have airships there?”

“Where?”

“In the real present.”

He followed her gaze. “Only for show… as a curiosity mostly. People travel by airplane. They’re more efficient and very fast.”

“I’m going to miss them,” she said quietly, her eyelashes wet with tears.

“What?” He looked at her sharply.

Her expression was calm and decided. “I’ll help you Odell. I’ll do whatever it takes to put it right.”

Chapter 7

Early afternoon sun
filtered in through the high raindrop-splattered windows. It sent streaks of light across the bare wooden floor and illuminated dust motes floating lazily in the still air. Embers glowed in a large stone fireplace, in front of which sat two people mulling over cups of coffee.

Though sparsely furnished, the spacious room was surprisingly cozy. It was a workshop of the mad-scientist sort, as Odette had dubbed it. Several waist-high tables lined the walls. They were cluttered with glass beakers, cooper wires, packets of crushed minerals, and other paraphernalia known only to the man who had obtained them. In one corner sat an oval-shaped object about the size of a very large bathtub. It was sleekly aerodynamic but obviously damaged. One whole side was scorched almost black and various cogs and wires protruded from several compartments.

Ensconced in a worn, overstuffed armchair, the Duchess of Montagu sat in a very unladylike pose. Her feet were planted about shoulder width apart. Her forearms rested on her thighs. She wore a simple dress. The modestly cut bodice was well tailored but showed only her collarbones above a plain neckline. The sleeves were long, and the full skirt allowed for free movement. Except for the layered fineness of the smooth gray lawn cloth, she could have been a simple merchant’s wife.

She warmed a mug between her hands and stared into the dying fire. “I’ve never been good at waiting.”

The man cast her an amused sidelong glance. How well he knew it. “You can do no more, your grace. If you were to come under suspicion, the whole operation might crumble. Your association with Dr. Speex can only be seen as the most socially tenuous.”

She sighed and sat up. Adelphia thought back on the last several months and shook her head in disbelief. “I tell you, Joseph, if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. I’d never have believed it.”

Joseph stood and took the empty coffee mug from her hands. He walked over to the deep porcelain sink and placed both cups within.

He was of medium height with skin of obsidian-black. Several years older than Adelphia, he had worked for her family almost his entire life. He had started as a lowly stable boy. But his intelligence and hard work had seen him rise to the position of footman and occasional valet in the household of Adelphia’s father, a baron, Lord Casterbridge.

When Miss Delphie, as he still thought of her, was a young woman, she caught the eye of Alistair Riverton, the Marquis of Montagu, heir to a dukedom. Nobody was more surprised than Adelphia herself.

Plain and big-boned, she stood in her stocking feet practically eye to eye with the young marquis. More daunting still was her lack of fortune and connections, Lord Casterbridge being a nobleman of rather modest means. But the marquis was captivated by her graceful carriage and independent mind and offered for her within a fortnight of meeting.

It was a good marriage. Adelphia grew into her role as marchioness and then as duchess. But her liberal leanings repeatedly clashed with those of her more conservative husband. And while his ardor for her never waned, his patience often did.

Joseph knew she was torn. Adelphia loved the Duke and her family but rebelled at the strictures placed on her as a woman. She was often disgusted by the arbitrary tyranny of the aristocracy.

She looked over at him now, concern creasing her forehead. “You realize that if Odell and his sister succeed, your people will spend decades more in slavery.”

So that’s what’s bothering her
.

He sat down again and stared into the fire. She brought him with her when she had married. In the Duke’s large establishment, Joseph had quickly proven his worth and was now majordomo as well as Adelphia’s closest confidant.

“Your grace,” he replied quietly, “the servitude in which most of us find ourselves is also a form of bondage.” She flushed and looked away.

When the British defeated the American rebels, as punishment, all free men not of the nobility were stripped of their lands, reducing almost everyone to the level of serf or peasant.

A short time later, slavery was outlawed in the colonies. The shared experience of poverty and backbreaking work resulted in significant mixing of the races among the lower orders. This racial cohesiveness gave birth to the only uprising of note since the American Agitators.

In 1859, the fugitive and labor leader John Brown attacked Harper’s Ferry, Virginia in an attempt to gain access to weapons and lead a revolt against the nobility. He led a group of “free” men and women. Capturing several buildings and holding out for almost two months until they were all killed in a massive British counterattack. Joseph took secret pride in the fact that Matilda Walker, a distant forebear on his father’s side, had been one of Brown’s lieutenants.

“But you are right to fear,” he admitted. “While our burdens are onerous, slavery is indeed different… something entirely evil. I can’t know if we are doing the right thing.” He stood abruptly and walked over to her. “But a chance for democracy… to stand up and be the equal of any man. That this existed once in another time, well…” He looked down at her, bereft of words.

She nodded. Joseph was the only person in whom she could confide when Odell approached her with his preposterous story and business proposition. She was a well-known liberal and was given some latitude in society because of who she was. But she was always careful to limit her involvement to the acceptable alleviation of suffering with clinics, orphanages, and women’s shelters. With her ballet company she hoped to bring the beauty of art and dance to the masses. Never, until now, had she challenged the actual societal structure.

They had both been here, in this room, when Odell returned from his trip over two hundred years in the past. They had taken turns nursing him through the nausea and disorientation that followed. The escape pod had been badly damaged. She walked over to the sleek, burnt object and bent down to touch the cool metal.

“Can he can fix it?” she asked.

“Well, that’s 'Plan A' as Dr. Speex describes it,” Joseph answered. “It will all depend on—”

A soft click interrupted their conversation. They turned expectantly toward a segment of the wall that looked no different than any other. The hidden panel swung open, and Odell stepped in bringing with him the smell of rain and new leaves. March was slowly fading into April and with it the biting chill. Odell’s scarf hung loose, and his topcoat was unbuttoned.

Adelphia straightened and advanced toward him. “Any luck?”

“No,” he answered matter-of-factly. “We were able to ditch the tail… uh… I mean,” he amended at their confused looks, “loose the surveillance team following us. I visited six of the apothecaries on the list but had no luck locating Professor Smyth. Let’s hope Odette fares better.”

*

The tiny shop in the heart of Little Italy was so cluttered with strange and interesting objects, Odette could barely move. Jars and packets containing dried herbs and ground substances sat upon the shelves. Roots and leaves hung in bunches from the ceiling. Odette saw some fossilized bones but couldn’t even speculate as to what they had once been. The smell of incense hung heavy in the air.

A very small and wizened old woman faced her across the counter, and a young girl sat polishing fine sliver.

“You wouldn’t by any chance have a supply of globular sea slugs?” Odette asked, and heard the clang of sliver as the little girl quickly grabbed at a spoon that had slipped her grasp.

“Very rare. No one sell this,” the old, Russian woman replied, before turning and shuffling off toward the back of the store.

Odette blew out an exasperated breath. This was the fourth apothecary on her list and still nothing. She was starting to believe that Kevin Smyth was just a myth. But Odell had insisted. Professor Smyth was the only one who had what they needed. And it was like he had fallen off the edge of the earth.

Odette walked over to the door and looked out. She tried to peer through the lettering on the glass. She and Odell were followed this morning as they left his rooms at the Academy. Odell told her he was often under surveillance in the first months after his return, but that Drake had grown lax of late. Nevertheless, they were prepared for the eventuality and quickly split up, leaving Odette at
Chez LaRoche
, Cara’s store on Fifth Avenue. As predicted the tail followed Odell, and Odette was free to pursue the most promising leads.

Cara wasn’t at the store, so she didn’t need to offer any excuse for her odd behavior. In one of the curtained rooms, Odette quickly changed into her trousers and cape and quietly slipped out the back. Other than an absentminded nod, Emile had barely noticed her.

Through the glass door she watched the street scene for a few moments more. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. This was a busy part of town. The city’s merchant class frequented the stores and restaurants along the treed avenue. A group of ladies emerged from a salon. Their faces freshly painted and hair perfectly coiffed in anticipation of an evening’s entertainment.

Little Italy was also known for its halo-clubs. She knew of at least two in the area. One catered to families and group celebrations, typically birthdays, anniversaries, and weddings. The other provided less wholesome entertainment. Patronized mostly by men, the club accommodated various predilections without troublesome and expensive human employees. While Odette found the business distasteful, she had to admit it was better than submitting actual people to the perverse activities that went on there.

A little bell chimed as she opened the door and walked out onto the pavement. There was only one other apothecary to visit, and so she turned her steps toward the East Village.

Odette had gone only a short way when she heard the bell chime behind her. A veteran of off-hours, black market shopping in some of the dicier parts of town, she immediately pricked up her ears. To her knowledge only the old lady and little girl had been in the shop with her, but she could not dismiss the possibility that she was being followed. Odette quickly turned the corner onto a smaller side street of family shops and walked purposefully into the nearest one.

It was a milliner’s shop. The two women inside looked up in surprise as Odette made her way past their workbenches and out the back door. She crossed the alley and slipped into the recessed entrance of the neighboring stoop. From this vantage point she could see the back door of the milliner’s shop without revealing herself. In the space of only a few breaths the little girl from the apothecary stepped out into the alleyway and looked both ways in confusion.

Before she could retreat back into the store, Odette leaped from her hiding place and grabbed the little girl by the arm.

“Ow! Boiler Hag! Let go’a me!” the girl howled and kicked Odette in the shin.

Fortunately her thick leather boot absorbed the shock. Odette tried to hold the girl gently away from her. “Why are you following me?” she demanded.

“What’a ya talkin’ about you tarted up ole Street Shrew?” The girl had a mouth on her for sure. “I’m lookin’ for my cat.”

The lie was so transparent Odette laughed. “Your cat? I saw you in the apothecary. You left the stor—ow!” The little girl’s heel hit Odette hard on the thigh, and she loosened her grip. The girl twisted out of her hold, but Odette grabbed her again before she could run far. This time tightly, by both shoulders. She gave her a little shake. “Stop this! I saw you in the store. Why are you following me?”

“Ow, you’re hurt’n me,” she whined.

Odette smirked. “Not any more than you deserve. I’m going to have a big bruise there.” She nodded toward her leg.

The girl blinked and two large tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked like a hurt puppy. Odette gritted her teeth. “Listen, you, that’s not going to work. You’d better tell me what you’re up to, or I’m hauling you to the constable and telling him you tried to pick my pocket.”

It was the girl’s turn to smirk. “Not in them clothes you ain’t. They’re indecent. You’d get a citation som’em quick.”

Odette narrowed her eyes. This was no helpless puppy. “Okay, well I’ll just haul you off to my lair and pull your fingernails out one by one until you spill your guts.”

The girl practically rolled her eyes.

“Okay, okay. I’m not going to pull your fingernails out,” Odette quickly amended. “But I can haul you off to my lair where my brother will question you. He’s the evil one.”

The little girl snorted. “Mr. Odell? He’s the easiest mark ever.”

Odette raised her eyebrows and pulled the girl further into the alleyway. “What’s your name?”

She struggled halfheartedly and then stopped abruptly. “Cristabelle.”

“And how do you know my brother, Cristabelle?”

“Every apothecary ’round here knows Mr. Odell. He buys the strangest stuff.”

“Like globular sea slugs?”

“Well, you ain’t dumb.” Cristabelle heaved a big sigh. “If you had’n jumped outta there and scared me like. I’d a told ya right off.”

“Why didn’t the apothecary just tell me?”

“Pistons and Coal Fire! You gotta be kid’n me? Madam Bazarov? She’s tightlipped and tightfisted. You ain’t gonna get nothin’ outta her. She’s mean.”

Odette looked down at the little face. The girl couldn’t be more than ten years old. She might easily be pretty, but her features were pinched with fatigue and her dark blond hair hung lank and dirty. Odette felt a little constriction around her heart. “Do you apprentice for Madam Bazarov? Is she unkind?”

“Like I said, she’s tightfisted. But I seen worse. Don’t you be feel’n sorry for me. I get by. And you can tell Mr. Odell, I know he lets me pick his pocket. He’s a Plushy, he is.”

Odette thought of the bruise she felt spreading on her leg and easily tamped down her pity. “Okay, where’s the sea slug then?”

Cristabelle shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t know.”

Odette felt her anger rising again, but the girl continued, “Nobody knows.”

“What?”

“The professor’s been gone these many days. Ain’t nobody seen him.”

Odette shook her head. “How can that be? He’s been working with my brother.”