Steampunk Carnival (Steam World Book 1) (14 page)

Katya sat in the back of St. John’s Church, realizing the smells there were not so different from those pervading the carnival. When she passed close by a maintenance worker or ride operator, she could smell the sweat and grease on them. The fresh air of summer tried to wash away the oil, soot, and earth, but they remained.

Those were the stenches hanging in the stale air of the sanctuary. The homeless that gathered there for rest and safety carried in dirt and sweat and wet animal funk. Their shoes smeared horse dung across the floor from the streets, where it dried and stunk less oppressively for having lost its moisture. They smelled like kerosene, singed hair, warm skin, and dry cotton.

The longer Katya shifted against the unyielding wood beneath her waiting for Brady, the sorrier she felt for the people stretched out across the pews. As usual, she could not see them. They seemed to spend the early morning hours making up for any sitting, standing, or walking they did during the day. Katya wondered how they did spend their days, if they worked or spent exhausting hours searching for work. She questioned if they had once owned houses and lost them, like Mrs. Lieber had fallen into the danger of doing. They might have had families once. Maybe they had passed away, like Brady’s, or separated through some other tragedy.

Katya dove deeper into her thoughts, adrift in her dark daydreams when Magdalene patted her arm. Looking up, Katya saw that Brady had come in and was sitting down next to Magdalene.

“Do you have news?” he asked, his voice straining, hoping.

“We need a new plan,” Magdalene explained. “Katya isn’t comfortable trying to press Mr. Warden for more information, and I don’t blame her. He’s too smart to let something slip. There has to be another way.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Brady admitted. He lowered his far-off gaze to the floor, his thumbs flipping at the brim of his hat. “What place is more public to expose Warden’s dishonesty than the carnival itself?”

“No,” Katya said, speaking from her gut before her mind could react.

Brady lifted his eyes. “If he’s there every night, it might be our best chance. He can’t hide from us. We could expose him in front of the guests, the workers, even the press if we tipped them off ahead of time.”

“No,” Katya repeated, shaking her head. “The carnival has its problems, but it means so much to everybody. I don’t want it to be destroyed like that. Who could enjoy being there after we defame it by calling Mr. Warden out on its grounds?”

Brady hid his hurt well, but it lingered like pleading shadows in his every feature. “Do you really think it makes that big a difference, Miss Romanova, if we call him out in the city or at the carnival?”

“Yes, I do. It could sabotage everything we’ve worked for if the carnival can’t shake its memory of him. If we expose him in town, people will say, ‘The Steampunk Carnival used to be run by that crook, William Warden.’ But if we do it there, they’ll sneer, ‘The Steampunk Carnival. That’s where they caught William Warden.’ I don’t want it affiliated with such a thing.”

“You don’t think the city will forgive us?”

Katya mulled it over. She wanted to fight taking that risk, but she did not want to tell Brady to give up on everything he had striven for.

“Please, Miss Romanova.” Brady’s eyes shimmered, and his brogue laid itself low. “You’ve come with me this far. If there’s another way, I promise you, we’ll take it. But we have to consider this one.”

Katya made herself nod in agreement.

“The carnival’s bigger than Warden,” Brady said. “It’s bigger than any travesty that happens there.”

“Because Mr. Warden covers them up,” Katya murmured.

“There’s one other thing I wanted to talk to you about.” Brady paused, which made Katya’s nerves tighten like fiddle strings. “If it’s too personal, I’ll understand if you don’t want to talk about it. But who’s the young man I’ve seen you with around the carnival? The one who works there?”

Katya adjusted the fit of her gloves minutely, not sure if her discomfort was rooted in embarrassment, fear, or indignation. If Brady had noticed her with Maddox, Mr. Warden’s spies certainly had. “Mr. O’Sullivan replaced one of the maintenance workers Mr. Warden deemed incompetent.”

“How well do you know him?”

“Well enough to call him a friend.”

“Do you remember when he came to work for the carnival?”

“It was around the same time we met you, after you fixed the Beast.”

“It was before Lieber was murdered,” Brady reminded her, tilting his forehead at her.

Katya licked her lips. She wished she had a glass of water for her suddenly dry throat. Her voice rose although she tried to control it. “Are you saying Mr. O’Sullivan could’ve murdered Mr. Lieber?”

“I’m only saying it’s possible. I’m not accusing him.”

“What motive would he have had? It must have been only a week or two before Mr. Lieber was killed. What could Mr. Lieber have done to him in that short a time that would force such a strong reaction? I don’t think Mr. O’Sullivan has that kind of a temper.”

“He’s Irish,” Brady joked in an extra-thick brogue, his expression light to dampen his dark insinuation.

“I’m serious, Mr. Kelly,” Katya told him. “If Mr. Warden’s bent on continuing to manipulate me, Mr. O’Sullivan might be in danger, too. His lot is in with ours, not part of the danger working against us.”

“My apologies, miss. And at the risk of offending you again, I’m afraid I must ask if you’ve told him anything about what we’re planning to do.”

“I haven’t, and I won’t. I wouldn’t betray your trust like that.”

“One last question,” Brady said. “When can I see it? My journal?”

Magdalene cleared her throat. “We can bring it to you at the carnival if you like. It’s not ideal, but it might be a good idea to keep it close at hand in case we have the opportunity to use it as proof against Mr. Warden.”

Brady nodded, slowly at first. His movements picked up speed as he gained a confidence that smoothed his furrowed brow. “I could hide it in the game stall. Behind the stuffed toys and prizes, perhaps.”

“You don’t think security will find it?” Magdalene asked.

“No. As far as Warden knows, the journal and his dirty little secret are long buried. The guards have no reason to tear apart my stall or any of the others.”

“We’ll bring it for you soon.”

“Thank you.” Brady’s hands shook where they rested his hat on his legs. “And no one where you live knows about it?”

“No, Mr. Kelly.” Magdalene watched him for a moment. Her voice treaded gently. “Will you be able to hide it at the carnival and leave it there? I know how badly you must want to take it home and search through it.”

“I do, but I can’t risk that. It must be in a place where we can use it if we get the chance. I can’t jeopardize our plans and our lives for my selfish obsession.”

Magdalene laid her hand over Brady’s, her white glove making his pale skin look tanned. “You’re not a selfish man. Your reasons for dreaming this carnival are more noble and honorable than most people’s reasons for doing anything. I promise you we’ll act as soon as we can.”

Katya could think of even more urgent reasons to speed up the process. “Tell Mr. Kelly about the security men.”

Magdalene turned her face toward Katya, raising her blonde brows above sharp, warning blue eyes.

Brady leaned forward where Katya could see him better. “Tell me what?”

“There’s no need to worry anyone,” Magdalene insisted.

Katya answered Brady’s question. “Security’s watching her closely.”

Brady sounded serious again. “Do you think Warden suspects something?”

“He can’t,” Magdalene said, offering her lifted palms in defeat. “I haven’t done anything I don’t normally do. I haven’t met with you any more than Katya has. She’s spoken to you more than I have.”

“What does Warden know about you?”

“Nothing he could use against me. He knows I was born in the city. He knows where I used to work as a cook. My family’s very quiet. We work hard, and we stay out of trouble. Usually.”

Brady clasped his hands around Magdalene’s gloved fingers. “If there is trouble, send for me if you can. I’ll be there. I can’t let either of you get hurt because I couldn’t do this alone.”

“We’re glad to help you, Mr. Kelly,” Magdalene assured him, only a slight wavering of her voice giving away her apprehension.

“How can I repay you?”

Katya jumped in with the easy answer. “By keeping us on at the carnival when you take it over.”

“Do you really think anyone will want to elevate me – the Mick – to running the entire carnival?”

“Why not? You designed it. You know how all the machines work. This city depends on the carnival. It loves it too much to let it crumble and die. You’re the person best qualified to keep it with us.”

Brady retrieved his hands from Magdalene’s and glanced away. “Thank you for your vote of confidence.” His voice shook with gratitude.

Katya did not dare speak to Maddox at the carnival. She was not so focused on keeping him out of danger that she would refuse to return a smile or nod of the head. Maddox crossed her path from time to time as he walked from one ride’s mechanical workings to another. His eyes twinkled as they fell on her, and he always found time to slow his stride for a few steps, tip his cap, and greet her. “Good evening, Miss Romanova.”

Katya would bow her head, finding it impossible to stop the corners of her mouth from lifting up. “The same to you, Mr. O’Sullivan.”

Katya never stopped moving, determined to keep herself so busy, not even Maddox could find the opportunity to waylay her. The less Mr. Warden suspected about her – personally or where Brady’s plans were concerned – the better.

Katya tried to stay near the front of the carnival to avoid running into Maddox around the maintenance building. She was assuring a family of five that they could indeed see half the city from the top of the Warden wheel when she recognized a familiar face twenty feet behind them. Mary wandered past the ticket booth, her face raised to take in the enormity of the Beast thundering and racing above the band.

“It’s a magnificent view,” Katya informed the family. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Katya hurried over to Mary before she could lose her in the crowd. She met Mary with an impetuous hug, her unexpected joy making it tighter than she meant to. “It’s so good to see you. I didn’t think you’d really come.”

Mary glanced around, her mouth caught between excitement and trepidation. “It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?”

“It’s marvelous. Did you just get in?”

Mary nodded.

“Let me show you around.” Katya linked her arm around Mary’s.

Mary slipped her arm away. “I’m not sure I want to stay long. It’s so late already.”

“Is it? I almost never know what time it is here.”

“It was after ten when I left the house.”

Katya looked from one fantastic attraction to the next, the Tower, the El vibrating beside it, and the Kaleidoscope whirring to her right. “Are you sure I can’t show you around a bit? Mr. Warden hasn’t given in to my suggestion that we print off maps yet. He says that’s what he’s paying me for.”

“All right.”

“You sound so tired, Mary.”

The two women began to walk together. Katya did not reach for Mary’s arm a second time.

“I was up about dawn,” Mary pointed out, stifling a yawn behind her plain black glove. “I suppose I’m as tired as you are when you get home so late on your really late nights.”

Katya’s breathing shallowed. She forced deeper breaths into her lungs. “The late nights?”

“Yes. Sometimes I hear you and Magdalene come in an hour or two later than usual.”

“I’m sorry if we wake you, Mary. We try to be quiet.”

“It’s all right. It isn’t very often. Sometimes I can’t sleep well, and I read a magazine for a while.”

Katya had never noticed a light under Mary’s door or any other door in the house after the meetings with Brady, but then again, she realized she might not have looked.

“So this is where you work,” Mary mused. Her brown eyes roamed over every metal column, every wooden plank.

“Is it what you thought it would be?”

“I don’t know. I remember the pictures in the papers when it opened last year. They didn’t do it justice. The coasters look so much bigger in person.”

“This is the side stage here.” Katya gestured to another of the increasingly popular dance contests. “We used to have more eating contests and sewing demonstrations, but this has become a great way for people to meet each other.”

“Love at the famous Steampunk Carnival,” Mary quipped.

Katya thought of Maddox, her most enjoyable secret. “Yes. How about you, Mary? Don’t you ever have any adventures? I can’t remember the last time you talked about having a date.”

Mary shrugged under her thin cotton jacket. “I don’t have time for such things. Ever since Dad died, I’ve worried about helping Mom keep up the Boarder.”

“I’m sure she could spare you a few hours every week or so.”

“I entertain myself at the Boarder. Did you ever thumb through Mom’s copy of
Miss Beecher’s
? It’s a few years old, but the advice is solid. Mom still cooks out of it. Miss Beecher has a very sharp wit.”

“I’ve always preferred magazines to books. There’s more pictures in them.”

Katya led Mary closer to the food stall. Magdalene was too busy with customers to notice them coming.

“This is where Mags is stuck night after night,” Katya said. “She’s not free to roam like I am.”

“Should we get in line?”

“Not if we just want to talk.”

Katya reached the corner of the stand, giving the customers a reassuring smile. “Hey, Mags. Look who’s here.”

Magdalene glanced down, then glanced again. “Oh, hello, Mary. I didn’t expect to see you. You didn’t have to make the trip just because Katya keeps insisting.”

“I should see it,” Mary replied good-naturedly. “I’m glad I came. It’s not the kind of thing you can describe in words or pictures. It’s too unusual for that.”

Magdalene took a few silver coins from a customer and traded them for a white paper bag of popcorn. “Are you hungry, Mary? Do you need something to drink?”

Katya encouraged Mary with shining eyes. “Live a little, Mary. We never have root beer at the house. It doesn’t cost much.”

“Maybe I will.”

Katya turned and peered across the carnival. She was hoping to avoid Brady’s game stall, too, not just the maintenance building beyond it. The journal had returned to his possession, as it should have, but Katya felt the bittersweet pull of it. She had spent as much of the afternoon as possible reading it, touching the pages Brady had once labored over before they packed it up. Magdalene had wrapped it in fresh newspaper and hidden it in the bottom of a sack she topped with several of Mrs. Weeks’ still-warm blueberry muffins. Katya could not stomach watching Magdalene deliver the sack to Brady, and it would have been dangerous for her to try. She knew Magdalene had done a sincere, convincing job.

“I brought you some baked goods, sir, for your family,” Magdalene would have said, or maybe, “Here are the muffins you ordered from my landlady.”

Magdalene would craft the most inconspicuous wording. Katya could only yearn to explore the journal again. Perhaps one day, after they had driven Mr. Warden from his stolen property, Katya would have the chance to flip through it at her leisure.

“I should get back to the guests,” Katya decided, returning her attention to Magdalene and Mary.

“I should get in line,” Mary said.

“I’ll probably see you sooner than you think,” Katya told her. “The rides are huge, but the carnival itself isn’t that big. Seek me out before you leave, won’t you? Just look for the hat.” Katya adjusted her navy-blue top hat, bedecked with white flowers, gears, and delicate lace.

“I will.” Mary walked along the single file of patrons to the end.

Katya retraced her steps to the front of the carnival. She staked out an area not far from the ticket booth where she could greet the incoming guests and offer her help. She was glad to miss Isolde that night. The most Katya felt sure she could have managed under the gaze of the celebrated blonde beauty was a terse, suspicious grimace.

As often happened, Katya lost track of the exact time she spent there. She only measured it as
too long
when keeping to the same spot dragged her cheery disposition down with increasing boredom. At first, Katya let herself move closer to the Kaleidoscope. Meandering further, she made her way to the blasting Cannon and the line of water closets, but no one seemed to need her help there. She told a joke to herself, a resolve never to mention to Mr. Warden that the guests were slowly gaining knowledgeable independence.

Katya kept an eye peeled for Mary, expecting to see her at any moment. In her practical bonnet and plain clothes, Mary was harder to spot than Isolde Neumann or most others who visited the carnival. Even Magdalene stood out in her bold reds, wines, and crimsons.

Katya walked as far past the water closets as she was willing to go, glancing down the length of the carnival’s back stretch toward the far food stall. Mary’s pale skin and curly brown hair were nowhere to be seen. Katya turned, wondering for a split second if Mary had left without telling her. Mary always kept her word, Katya felt certain. She was as dependable and honest as they came.

Katya saw brief movement behind the water closets, in the narrow space between their back walls and the Cannon’s support system. She assumed it must be Agna, chasing down some rubbish blown there by the wind. But Katya recognized the silhouette of Mary’s bonnet and rail-thin form. Katya slipped into the slender passageway.

“I looked for you everywhere,” Katya said. “Did you try the root beer? Isn’t it sweet and refreshing?”

Mary coughed into her glove and nodded.

The cars of the Cannon zoomed overhead, shaking down dust, dirt, and sawdust. The image of Mary coughing before the particles tickled their noses bothered Katya.

“Are you all right?” she asked. She reached for Mary’s free arm.

Mary jerked away, moving farther into the space no patron was meant to occupy. “I’m fine,” she called out as the firing of the Cannon died from their ears.

Katya swept her hand out, swiping her pale ivory glove across the palm of Mary’s black one. A smear of bright blood stained Katya’s fabric like a sounding alarm.

“Go away,” Mary pleaded, waving her back the way she came.

“Mary.” Katya’s voice stuck in her throat, disbelieving, her foundations rocked. “You’ve got–”

Mary glared at her with the strictest warning she had ever seen in a woman’s eyes. Mary shamed her into silence, and Katya wished she had not pursued her.

“I need to get home,” Mary insisted, maintaining her distance.

“How bad is it?” Katya hissed, feeling betrayed and protective. She had always liked Mary, but now that Mary was ill, her respect and admiration intensified.

“I can’t talk about it now. I have to go.” Mary looked the other way, down the other half of the chute to the main carnival grounds.

“Will you be all right? I can go with you. I can hail you a carriage for hire. I can wait with you until the streetcar comes.”

Mary shook her head. She covered her mouth with her telltale glove, choking gruffly into the fabric. She walked away, past the last water closet in the line and disappearing behind it.

Katya stayed where she was, blinking to keep tears out of her eyes. The secrets she felt forced to hold onto kept piling up, threatening to crush her. She wanted to sit down behind the water closets, hidden from the prying eyes of the carnival, and cry into her soiled satin gloves.

Instead, Katya hiked her chin up and strutted out from behind the water closets. There must be patrons at the carnival who needed her, and she promised herself solemnly to find them.