Shadow of the War Machine (The Secret Order) (16 page)

“Hold this,” I whispered as I handed Will the torch. One of the wolves took another step forward, his mechanical paw sinking into the frozen leaves only a few feet from me. Will pointed the torch at the metal beast. With stiff fingers half-frozen from the cold, I twisted the two halves of the orb.

Immediately it let out a shrieking whistle. The heads of all the wolves snapped up as they surged forward.

“Here!” Will shouted as he moved both torches to one hand and held out the other. I tossed the orb into it, and he immediately flung it away from us. It sailed through the sky, the wail trailing along through the still evening.

The wolves turned and ran, loping through the woods with the power of the wheels and springs in their backs.

“Run!” Will shouted.

I grabbed my skirts and sprinted up the path, climbing the hill toward the house. The orb wouldn’t wail forever. It had given us a head start, but it wouldn’t last long.

Holding my skirts, I ran as best I could, but I couldn’t swing my arms, and I couldn’t breathe freely with my corset.
The hill turned steep, and the path twisted toward the house at the top. Will kept himself between me and the wolves, even though he could run freely.

Panting for breath, I heard the whistle die. I glanced back at Will behind me. We paused for the briefest of seconds.

Perhaps if we were quiet enough, the wolves would stay at the bottom of the hill. We didn’t have much farther to go.

Just then I realized we were standing in two inches of frost-covered leaves. Will motioned forward, and I took a tentative step, easing my toe into the leaves as gingerly as I could, but they crunched down beneath my boot. It must have only been the slightest of noises, but to my ears it sounded like the crunch of a hundred breaking bones.

The howl sounded again.

They were coming.

Will leapt forward, grabbing my hand and pulling me with him as we ran for the top. I glanced back over my shoulder. The silver wolves raced straight up the hill toward us. They did not turn and they did not waver. I could hear the clattering of their joints, but somehow they managed not to distract one another as they followed us without err.

I had no luxury to wonder how this was accomplished. “Will! They’re right on our heels!”

“Hurry! To the door!” He flung me forward, and the momentum carried me up over the crest of the hill and to the courtyard before the mansion. I ran over the barren front garden and the curving drive that led to the front steps. My face burned. I couldn’t feel my feet, but I pushed forward as hard as I could.

Will’s footsteps fell hard on the ground behind me, and I swore I could feel the phantom breath of the wolves as they snapped their vicious metal jaws together.

My momentum carried me straight into the hard surface of the closed door. I felt the impact of the crash deep in my shoulder and the bone beneath my cheek, but I had to shake off the pain. I furiously rapped on the knocker, then pounded on the door, screaming for someone to let us in—before I came to my senses. The knockers were identical to the ones on the gate.

“The left one,” I gasped out as I slid to the side. As I did so, I caught sight of Will, with his twin torches blazing as he made his stand at the top of the steps.

The first wolf leapt at him. Will twisted, swinging the fiery branches up and under the body of the wolf. With a grunted shout he changed the beast’s trajectory and sent it flying into the wall. The wolf crashed against the stone, damaging its spine. It kicked and struggled but couldn’t find its feet.

I had to get us inside. With unsteady hands I reached for my key and fitted it into the left-hand striker. The other knocker opened, revealing the musical keys. I pressed my ear to the silver locket to try to hear the song and where it ended. Once again it was silent. I had to play the whole thing.

That would take minutes. We didn’t have minutes.

Once again I spared a glance at Will as I moved back to the door on the right so I could play the tune. He brandished his torches at the wolves, holding them off, but they lunged and snapped, pressing into his space and forcing him back toward the door.

I played the melody as fast as I could, praying I wouldn’t make a mistake and have to start over. “Why are they being so aggressive?” I shouted at Will as he landed a powerful kick against the lowered head of one of the wolves. “I thought they wouldn’t attack so long as we faced them.”

“I don’t know!” Will shouted. “It’s not like I created the blasted things. Hurry, would you?”

I continued to play, cringing at the sounds behind me. With every strike of metal on the stone stairs, I imagined the wolves overwhelming Will and tearing him apart.

“Meg!”

I jumped, then turned to the side as one of the wolves
charged forward and crashed into the door with its shoulder. The spikes and blades making up its fur bent with the impact. It held its head at a strange angle, and the light in one eye flickered out as it shook its head. It growled at me, lifting the silver blades around its neck. I kicked it in the snout and continued playing.

With a snarl it lunged and grabbed me by the arm. Its teeth cut into my flesh. Then it clamped down on the loose billows of my coat sleeve and held fast. I screamed, my arm on fire, hot and wet. I tugged against the wolf ’s hold. My eyes burned as I gritted my teeth. I could hear the fabric ripping, but I would
not
let the wolf pull me from the door.

Stretching back, I played the last two notes.

The moment I played them, the wolf suddenly released me.

The three wolves that remained lowered their heads, then turned and ran back down the hill. The one that had held me followed, limping along the path.

I cradled my wounded arm against my stomach as I doubled over.

Will rushed toward me and wrapped his arm over my shoulder as the door opened before us.

A man stood in the shadows behind the door. He was dressed in old livery, a butler perhaps?

“Sir, please, we’re searching for Maurice Durant. Is he here?” I asked in French.

The butler reached up and grasped his lapel in one white-gloved hand, but made no other indication he’d heard me at all. His glove had faded and turned gray, and there was a hole in the back, where something glinted beneath, as if it were made of . . . metal?

He stepped out of the shadows, and I brought my gaze up to his face.

The face was blank, a smooth shield of polished metal with only the faintest contours of what a human face should be.

Gracious. It was an automaton. One of the finest I had ever seen.

He placed both his hands behind his back. Dust had settled on his black livery, and the powdered wig perched on his metal head had faded with dust and age.

“Good evening,” the automaton stated in French. His voice sounded tinny as he gave me a stiff bow and said, “Welcome to Pensée, Monsieur Whitlock.”

He had assumed I was my grandfather. There was no doubt. We were in the right place.

WILL SUPPORTED ME AS I
cradled my injured arm and stepped inside. The heavy door eased shut behind us, throwing us into darkness.

The only light came from our torches. Will snatched a bouquet of dead flowers out of a heavy tarnished urn and set the torches in it. “Let me see your arm.”

I held it out to him. The lower half of my coat sleeve had been badly torn and soaked in blood. He gently squeezed down my forearm. “Do you think it’s broken?”

I winced. “No. The bones are fine.” I gasped as he squeezed the wound.

He raised one eyebrow as he helped me pull my arm
from my coat. My dress beneath was soaked in blood. He drew his knife, then swiftly slit what was left of my sleeve, from wrist to elbow. There were three slashes cut deep into my forearm.

A new fear took hold as I watched my blood pooling out of them and trickling down to drip into Will’s hands. If any piece of the cloth from my sleeve remained within the wound, it could fester and I would die of infection. “Do they need to be stitched?” My stomach knotted at the thought. We didn’t have anything to sew them shut, and I didn’t know if I had the fortitude not to faint as Will did it. I already felt light-headed.

“We need to make sure they’re clean. They’re going to scar.” Will looked around desperately as my arm dripped with blood. I had nothing to staunch the bleeding. “You there!” he shouted at the automaton. Will seemed as surprised as I was when the mechanical man turned to him. “Fetch clean linens,” he ordered.

“Will, that will never . . .”

The automaton gave us a bow, then walked down the pitch-black hall with a rigid and clanking gait.

Will touched a knuckle to his forehead, then looked desperate as he inspected the gashes again.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked.

“We may need to cauterize.”

“Oh God,” I whispered.

I felt cold all of a sudden and sat on the smooth marble floor. I had to fight to keep from spilling my stomach. Our footsteps had left a scramble of smears in the fine dust. As soon as I began to shiver, the heavy weight of Will’s coat enveloped my shoulders. He pulled out a handkerchief and soaked it in the whisky from his flask as he knelt next to me. “This is going to burn.”

“It’s only pain.” I attempted to smile at him even though I dreaded what was to come. “It won’t kill me.” He pressed the cloth to the largest wound on my arm, and I hissed as every muscle in my side and stomach tensed, but I held still. “Or perhaps it will.”

We both watched as he continued to dab the blood away with the soaked handkerchief, but it was no use. The blood kept pooling.

I caught Will’s gaze. “Do it,” I urged.

The color drained from his face. He let out a shaky breath, then cleaned his knife with the whisky. “It’s okay if you faint.”

I nodded, already feeling dizzy as the wounds dripped along my arm. Will grabbed one of the torches and held his
knife in the heat of the fire until the blade grew red hot.

“Close your eyes. I’ll be quick,” he said, and I felt his broad palm cradle my wounded arm. “Do you want some of the whisky?”

“I’ll be fine. Just do it,” I said through gritted teeth.

The knife touched my arm, and I stifled a scream. I could feel the fire shooting up through my arm and shoulder. I swore my heart stopped beating with the shock and pain. Will’s grip clamped down on my arm as he seared the other two wounds, and like that, it was done.

He dropped his knife onto the floor and gathered me in his arms, careful to cradle my wounded hand. “Breathe,” he whispered to me.

I took a shaking gasp as tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t help them; I didn’t try.

“By God, you are a brave woman,” he said as I wiped my face. I still trembled, and my arm stung from the burns, but at least the bleeding had stopped.

“What is our plan now?” I asked, my voice broken and shaking. I didn’t feel brave. I was on the verge of falling apart.

“We find Durant,” Will stated as he continued to tenderly touch my arm. We heard the rattle of metal in the distance,
and to my surprise the butler returned with a large folded sheet without a trace of dust on it. Will took it and used his knife to slice a long strip from the linen.

“Will, you can’t understand French,” I said, still shaking. “I’m the only one who can speak with Durant.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” he said. I noticed his hands were shaking as well.

“If Durant is angry at our intrusion, we may need to leave here quickly.” Those wolves would be waiting for us. I shuddered at the thought. “You must find a way for us to escape while I speak with Durant. I don’t want to linger a moment longer than we must.”

Will considered this a moment. “Are you certain you’ll be safe?”

I swallowed a lump in my throat. “No, but what choice do we have?”

Will shook his head slowly as a look of resignation passed over his features. “What of your grandfather?”

“I don’t believe he’s here.” The house felt too empty. “He would have heard the commotion we made.”

“Look for clues,” he said. “I’ll do the same. We can search more of the house if we are apart.”

I nodded. “We know Papa was here. We need to know
why he may have left, and when, and where he could have—”

Will placed a finger on my lips. “Go speak with Durant. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“I don’t want to face those wolves again.” We’d barely made it into the house. If they’d been on us a moment longer, or if those jaws had found my neck—or worse, Will’s . . . No. “There has to be a way around them, or some way to call them off. I know you will find it.”

Will finished cleaning the wounds and bathing my arm in whisky before he wrapped it tightly in the strip of linen. As he tied off the bandage, the pain eased. The skimming touch of his fingers as he smoothed the linen, then cradled my small wrist in his hands, made my head feel light and floating.

Or perhaps it was the loss of blood. Will helped me to my feet, and I almost swooned. He held me, close and protected, against his chest until the world stopped spinning.

I needed my wits. “I’ll be fine,” I said as I found my feet. “I’ll meet you back here.” I took one of the torches. They had nearly burned out. I used it to light a small and dusty lamp.

Will shifted on his feet, seemingly uncomfortable, and his face held more color than usual.

He wouldn’t meet my gaze as he looked around, but the harsh set of his lips gave away how distressed he really was.
He pulled a thick candle out of a holder with a jerk. “I promise I’ll find a way around those wolves. I don’t want to see you hurt like that again.”

I took his hand and brought it to my cheek. “Good luck,” I said. “And be careful.”

He gathered my hand and kissed the back of it like a gentleman. “You too.” Then he disappeared into the shadows down a long and empty corridor.

I turned to the butler.

“Take me to Maurice Durant,” I commanded in my clearest voice. “Please,” I added, because I couldn’t help myself.

The automaton bowed to me, then turned on his heel and started walking the opposite way from the direction Will had gone down the long hall. I turned back to glance at the dark hall, where Will had disappeared. I prayed Will would remain safe, even as I walked into the unknown.