Rise of the Arcane Fire (The Secret Order) (3 page)

I leaned closer and detected a terrifying chemical scent.

Dear Lord, it was a bomb.

“
TAKE MRS. BRINDLE AND GET OUT
of here, now!” Will commanded, pulling the bomb in front of the shop windows, bathing it in light.

In my mind I could see the explosion. I knew what his burned body would look like, the blackened flesh, his face torn away from the bone. I had seen it before. I could not lose someone I loved like that again. “I’m not leaving you.”

He turned to me. “Now, Meg!”

I stumbled backward, then rushed through the door into the parlor. Mrs. Brindle came in from the kitchen just as Bob returned from the mews.

“Bob,” I shouted. “Get your mother away from the shop. Take her as far as you can down the street.”

“What is it?” he asked even as he put a protective arm around his mother.

“Just go. Alert the neighbors to a fire, then head toward the firehouse. If you hear an explosion, bring the brigade.” I shifted on my heel, ready to return to Will. I didn’t care what he said. I wasn’t leaving him to face a bomb alone.

“Meg?” Mrs. Brindle looked fragile in her son’s arms, and scared as she reached for me.

“Hurry!” I cried, backing away from them as Bob pulled Mrs. Brindle out the back door. I took a hasty breath and quickly darted into the shop and through the door to Simon’s workshop. I collected a box of his tools, then returned to Will’s side.

“Damn it, Meg,” Will growled. He hadn’t said that to me in a very long time. I supposed it had been at least a couple of months since I’d last willfully put my life in danger.

“Let me guess. My life isn’t worth it?” I handed him the tools. “I won’t leave you. Now let’s stop this thing.”

I grasped the heavy pendant hanging on a chain around my neck. It was the most precious thing I owned. Though it looked like a silver pocket watch, it was a key, my grandfather’s master key, and it could unlock any invention the Amusementists had created. On the bomb I looked for a three-petal flower embossed on a circular medallion. It was the symbol of the Amusementists, and it often covered an invention’s locking mechanism. “Where is the lock?”

Will gingerly tipped the contraption to the side, but the sparking wick continued down its path. “It’s here.”

I stared at the gear wheel on the bottom of the cube. Feeling dread in the pit of my stomach, I opened the cover of my key and watched as a structure that looked like a mechanical flower emerged from the center of the casing. I tried to fit it into the gear wheel, but it wouldn’t set right. I pressed the button on the back of the key that should have turned the gear wheel and played a song I could use to unlock the machine. Instead a single note clanged out, accompanied by a sharp snap. I pulled the key back, afraid it would break. “It’s not working.”

Will’s eyes darted over every part of the machine. I studied it as well, but the gears were protected behind riveted casings. There was no way to crack the machine open and reach the trigger. “Will, we should leave it.”

He shook his head. “We still have time.”

With every notch that the spider-like creature descended, time was running out. When we first found the bomb, the spider had had about two inches to go before it would touch the orb. We’d lost a quarter of an inch already. The shop wasn’t worth our lives, but if the explosion started a fire, others would be at risk. If the bomb was big enough, half of Mayfair could burn.

Time seemed to slow, each ominous
tick
drawing out and lingering in the air. Without the key I didn’t know what to do. We had to stop the spider’s descent. I threw open the toolbox and rifled through the tools. Something had to be able to cut through the filigree casing around the trigger. It would be difficult. The openings in the sides of the cube didn’t leave much room for a person’s hands, even ones so small as mine.

Will continued to study the bomb, his brow knit in deep concentration. I didn’t have time for him to uncover the inner workings of the ghastly thing. I just needed to stop that spider, and if I had to pry the damn thing open with my bare hands to do it, I would.

I reached for a hammer.

“Don’t,” Will said, as if he could read my mind. “There’s a glass pane at the top of the screw. If it cracks, the spider drops. We can’t damage it.”

My heart faltered. Will may not have had much schooling, but he had a remarkable talent for understanding how things fit together. I believed him. “Then how do we stop it?”

“Give me a moment.” He turned it again.

“We don’t have a moment!” I watched as the spider clicked closer to the central ball. It only had about an inch to go.

Closer.

“Will?” I grasped his sleeve.

Closer.

I pulled him as hard as I could toward the door.

“Meg, here. We have to stop this wheel.” He pointed to one of the cogs on the outer casing.

I fumbled with my hair, finally jabbing my finger on a pin. I ripped it from my scalp. Will took the long, hooked metal and drove it through a thin crack in the casing, catching the spoke of a gear just beneath.

The spider twitched but could not flick the flint on its back.

“Get a spool of wire,” Will ordered, holding the pin in place.

I rushed into Simon’s workshop. Panicked, I swept all my work off the table, and the papers flew like dried leaves.

There! The spool of sturdy wire I had used to coil springs for my frog. I grabbed it, and half-stumbled back out of the workshop.

“It’s here.” I thrust the wire into his hands, then dug through the tools looking for shears. Will carefully threaded the wire through the filigree tube. I helped him cut six lengths, and we created a wire net just below the spider, tied securely to the casing. The hairpin snapped, but the spider remained trapped, unable to descend past the wires woven just below him. The
tick
became louder, angry.

“Now what do we do?” I asked.

Will pushed back from the thing and scrambled to his feet. “Pray.”

“What?” We had to get out of there. A high-pitched whine emanated from the casing. Dear God, the thing was going to explode.

I grabbed Will and clung to his sleeve, because suddenly I felt as if my legs couldn’t move. I couldn’t run. No matter how I tried to push my body, I felt as if I were slipping through mud.

Suddenly I felt Will’s strong arms circle my back and sweep beneath my knees. He swooped me up, cradling me against his chest as I buried my face against his neck and clung to him. He threw himself forward, carrying both of us toward the back of the shop.

I could hear his heartbeat.

Thump.

The screech from the bomb grew louder.

Thump.

It turned to a fevered whistle.

Thump.

We crashed down together behind the counting desk. Will sheltered me with his body, holding me so tightly, I couldn’t breathe. His knuckles blanched as he gripped my arm.

“I love you,” he whispered as the whistle turned to a frantic scream and the bomb casing clattered against the floor. “By God, Meg, I’ll love you always.”

No. I refused to say such a goodbye. I loved him with my whole heart in so many ways I could never tell him. We didn’t have the time.

I tucked my head deeper into the shelter of his body. I didn’t want to die. Not yet. It wasn’t fair. There were so many things I still wanted to do. So many things I still needed to do. I bunched the fabric of Will’s coat tighter in my fist, as if holding on to it could somehow hold him to me even if we were thrown into the hereafter.

A loud
snap
echoed through the shop.

I let out a yelp as Will flinched.

We waited, clinging to one another, breathing hard. I could feel the pulse of his neck against my brow. Our hearts pounded as one.

Nothing.

Tipping my chin up, I looked Will in the eyes, daring to hope we had really averted disaster. I gave him a hesitant smile as a rush of relief, joy, and exhilaration overcame me.

He took my face in his hands and kissed me, a burning, hungry, wicked kiss. It was a kiss that could possibly land me in the fires of hell for my sinful thoughts alone, but at the moment I didn’t care. I wanted to burn this way. I let myself be swept away by it. As his lips slid over mine and our breath mingled, I knew we were truly alive.

The heady rush ebbed, and I regained my senses. We were tangled together, legs, arms, my thick petticoats spilling over both of us like a cascading brook. Will glanced at my exposed calf and the buttons along the seam of my boot. I pulled back, trembling, trying to right my skirt. “We should see if it’s safe,” I said.

Will let out a shaking breath and took another quick one, as if his mind had forgotten the process of breathing and he had to concentrate on so instinctive a task. He closed his eyes and nodded, his skin flushed.

He looked overcome, and it nearly undid me. The intimacy of it frightened me, though I didn’t know why it should. I extracted myself from him due to an unfamiliar sense of self-preservation and inched toward the vile thing sitting at the front of my beautiful shop.

The spider had snapped nearly in half in its effort to push through the wires. A coiled spring hung from its cracked back like tiny mechanical innards spilling from a squished bug. Good riddance. “It seems properly broken.” I breathed a sigh of relief.

Will nodded, but his jaw had tightened, and the black look of vengeance had seeped into his eyes.

“Will?” I could see the pressure building in him. I held a hand out to him. “Will, everything is fine. No one was harmed.”

“Someone is trying to bloody kill you!” he shouted. I took a step back. In the time I had known him, he’d been like a rock in a stormy tide. Nothing moved him, not when he’d faced a man brandishing a pistol, and not even when he’d faced a giant mechanical sea monster.

I touched him on the arm. It shook beneath my fingertips. “We know someone is trying to kill me. Someone has been trying to kill me for a year now. Nothing has changed.” I had meant my words to reassure him, but my own casual acceptance of my impending doom disturbed me. “Except now we have proof.”

Will glared at the bomb and crossed his arms. “That is hardly a comfort.”

“We’ll bring it with us when the Amusementists gather. They cannot deny that it came from one of them. The unlocking mechanism is on the bottom of the beastly thing. Finally we’ll get to the heart of this.”

His gaze dropped to the floor as he covered my hand with his. “I thought it was over,” he whispered. “I thought we would finally be free of all this.”

I nodded, but something about his words troubled me. I didn’t want to feel hunted at every turn, but I wondered what he meant by “free.” Did he mean free to wed? I had to admit a large part of me desperately wanted to be Will’s wife, but there was another part of me. It was like a secret hunger I couldn’t seem to fill. I didn’t wish to be free of the Amusementists.

Not yet.

I had too much I needed to know. I longed to find my grandfather. I wanted to know more about the legacy of my family and the things they had helped create. I wanted to be swept away by the wonder and amazement of visions come to life through the skill and craftsmanship of Europe’s most brilliant minds. I felt stuck in a strange dream, one that tended to become a nightmare, but I didn’t want to wake.

AND SO, ONLY TWO DAYS
later, I found myself on the single most unnerving carriage ride of my life. Which was saying quite a lot, considering some of my past experiences in a coach.

When Will told me that Oliver had invited me to attend the Gathering of the Order, I had assumed that the duke would accompany me. Instead he had sent around his coach with a note saying that he and Will had special business to attend to prior to the meeting, and that I should meet them there.

There were only three problems with this arrangement. The first was that I had absolutely no inkling where I was going. As the neat and affluent streets of Mayfair gave way to the crowded lanes of the heart of London, my apprehension grew. Wide lanes turned into narrow twisting streets as the buildings somehow crowded even closer, their shadowed windows like leering eyes. With the heavy smoke of coal fires, and the stench of human filth, this was not the London I knew. It was another world entirely.

The second problem had everything to do with the lessons taught me by my Swiss mother. Punctuality was paramount, as she liked to say. An overturned cabbage cart had caught Oliver’s driver in a crush of traffic, which meant I was late. It was not the first impression that I had wished to present to the Order. I needed the Amusementists to listen to me, not discount me as an irresponsible young girl.

The third reason for my discomfiture was obvious. The bomb was on the seat directly across from me.

I crossed my ankles beneath the crisp, dark blue fabric of my new dress. Wishing to look mature and respectable in front of the Order, I had tightly braided my hair and knotted it at my nape. My head ached from my severe hairstyle, and the fabric of my dress swallowed my arms. The lace around the collar itched where it touched my skin, and I tried not to wriggle as I stared at the ominous cube on the bench opposite.

The triggering mechanism still hung limply from the net of wire Will and I had used to trap it, but the incendiary orb remained intact. I had no idea how stable or—more important—unstable the powder was, nor what sort of impact could potentially set it off.

The carriage wheel bumped, nearly throwing me from my seat. I gasped as I caught the bomb and held it steady on the plush bench. The cold frame cut into my shaking palms.

I pushed the bomb against the padded back of the seat, then quickly returned to my position, stiffly holding my hands in my lap to keep from gripping my skirts and putting creases in them. Only then did I dare to breathe.

With each passing moment my nerves grew worse. The carriage ride was either lasting half my life or taking half my life as my fear slowly killed me. Finally the wheels slowed and the footman opened the door. I lifted the bomb, struggling to find a way to hold the thing that would prevent me from dropping it and still give me a hand to hold my skirts so I didn’t trip and throw myself and the blasted thing out onto the street. A fine mess that would make. Tucking the bomb under my arm like a simple parcel, I allowed the footman to help me down.