The Clockwork Wolf (29 page)

Lykaon's servants and the club members began piling out of the room as the battle raged on. I alternated between watching and cringing and trying to work myself free. One Wolfman went hurtling into a wall, disappearing through the hole created by the impact. Plaster dust and shattered brick billowed out from the ruined wall, clouding the air and making me cough.

The other stayed on Doyle, savagely snapping and clawing at him from every direction until he barreled into him and knocked him flat. I saw the Wolfman fling himself atop Doyle and screamed.

Several shots rang out, sending the Wolfman tottering backward until he fell on his back, the smoking ruin of his clockworks giving a few final, slowing ticks before they went still.

The inspector was levered back upright by the suit, and had his pistol ready as the other Wolfman clawed his wall out of the wall. He fired, and the third shot took him down.

He had defeated them, one man against two monsters, thanks to the strong suit. As soon as I saw Docket again I planned to kiss him into a swoon.

“I do like your birthday present,” Doyle said as he came to me and went to work on the rest of my shackles. “Can I borrow it again sometime?”

I wrapped my arms round his neck and sobbed something female and ridiculous before I could compose myself. “You're insane. Thank you.” As my heartbeat stopped trying to bang its way out of my chest I took
in a steadying breath. “Tom, we must find Harry—my grandfather,” I added. “Lykaon has him trapped in the body of a child.”

He drew back. “Sorry, what?”

The strong suit was making such a racket I didn't bother to repeat it. “Never mind.” Once he'd removed the last shackle round my ankle I sat up and braced my good hand against his shoulder to climb down.

“Here.” He pressed the power switch, and the noise stopped along with the motors. “You said your grandfather has a child?”

Three more Wolfmen appeared behind Doyle and seized him by the arms and neck, dragging him back from me.

“Switch it back on, Tommy,” I said, but before Doyle could press the button on his palm one of the Wolfmen clouted him on the back of the head, knocking him out.

I lunged toward Doyle, but was hauled back by one of the club members. As I struggled to free myself I saw a strange little man in a doctor's coat walk in front of Doyle and pause to study him. “I have an admirer, it seems. The device is rather primitive, milord, and made to serve more as body armor than augmentation. The output delivery is tolerable, I suppose.”

Lykaon joined him. “He defeated two of my soldiers, Mr. Desney.”

“By shooting them,” Desney said, sounding like a sulky child. “Still, I would like to meet its maker.”

“It's mine,” I said, drawing their attention. “The inspector only borrowed from me.”

“A female did not build this, milord,” Desney said, as if I were invisible. “Women have no head for engineering.”

“Take it to the testing area,” Lykaon told the Wolfmen, who dragged Doyle from the room.

“Tommy,” I shrieked, yanking my arms free and stumbling as I tried to follow.

“No, Miss Kittredge,” Lykaon said as he blocked my path and took out a long, thin blade. “You have caused quite enough annoyance for one night. It's time you—” He stopped and frowned as a gleaming brass rat scurried between his feet. “Mr. Desney, I thought we agreed, no vermin.”

“It is not mine, milord.” Desney reached down to capture the rat, but as soon as he touched it the rat squealed—and then exploded into a billowing cloud of white crystals.

The ice spell had no effect on me, but instantly froze Desney and Lykaon into frosty statues. I ran past them into Dredmore's arms. “Lucien, I will never complain about your timing again. We have to save Tommy; did you see where they took him?”

Behind me ice began to crack.

“He's disrupting the spell. Come.” Dredmore lifted me off my feet and carried me with rapid strides down the hall, where he stopped at the wall. With one kick of his boot he opened a door concealed in the bricks, which swung inward.

“I can walk.” When he didn't put me down, I wriggled. “Really, Lucien, I'm fine.”

Reluctantly he set me on my feet. “I am never letting
you out of my sight again.” He pushed the wall-door back into place. “Now, be quiet.”

I nodded, and followed him down a dark hall that led to an enormous chamber that looked at first glance like a larger version of Docket's Dungeon. Then I saw the operating table and racks of gleaming surgical instruments, and the long rows of giant cages filled with Wolfmen.

Tommy was being hung by the three Wolfmen on a pair of hooks dangling from a rafter. He was also still unconscious.

Dredmore motioned for me to follow him into a narrow recess between some cabinets and the side wall. We edged through the space by walking sideways, until we were directly behind the operating tables.

“As soon as they go, I will free him,” Dredmore said in the barest of murmurs.

I nodded, feeling slightly more confident. My hopes, however, were immediately dashed by the sight of Lykaon entering the chamber.

“Come along, Desney,” he said as he approached Doyle's dangling figure. There wasn't a speck of ice on the immortal now. “It's only a spot of frostbite.”

“What about the two that escaped?” the rude little man said as he appeared, his reddened hands rubbing at his still-icy ears.

“The men will find them and bring them back, and then you may have them,” Lykaon said. “But first we will attend to this fellow.”

“Yes, milord.” Desney glanced up at Doyle. “I can cut the man out of the rig, but to avoid damaging it he will have to be dismembered.”

I surged forward, but Dredmore pulled me back and clamped a hand over my mouth, shaking his head as he looked down into my furious eyes.

“Killing him will only waste an excellent opportunity,” Lykaon said. “We have never attempted the transformation spell with such mech as this.”

Desney looked indignant. “This design is decidedly inferior, milord.”

“Are you questioning me again?” Lykaon drew out a dagger and regarded him. “I thought not. The last time was so very painful for you.”

Before I could blink the Aramanthan sliced open the palms of his hands and flung them at Doyle, spattering him with blood. Lykaon began to chant as he walked round Doyle.

I struggled against Dredmore, who refused to release me. Only when the chains suspending Doyle's body began to shake did I go still.

The gouts of blood covering Doyle began to shrink and disappear into his body, absorbed as if he were a sponge. The fabric of Doyle's garms rippled and then began to tear as the mech fitted on his body seemed to contract. I didn't understand what was happening as his body jerked and writhed, and then I saw the shreds of one sleeve fall away, baring Doyle's muscular arm. The braces clamped to his flesh tightened so much his skin bulged out and then tore just as his clothes had. The mech grew bloody as it burrowed into the horrible wounds, which I knew would be the death of him in only a few seconds.

Doyle did not die, however, and the terrible injuries inflicted by the shrinking of mech did not bleed. Instead,
his flesh began to stretch, closing over the gaping wounds and the mech inside them.

Dredmore caught his breath, and I blinked madly through the tears in my eyes, frozen with disbelief as I watched Doyle's body heal itself over the mech, the flesh rejoining and knitting itself back together. Each horrible scar then began to fade, smoothly out until no trace of the wound or the mech appeared on Doyle's skin. By the time all the blood disappeared, so had the mech, and Doyle's limbs bulged and writhed.

“He will not survive the bonding, milord,” Desney said, looking satisfied now. “The device was not meant to function internally.”

Doyle did look as if he were dying, his face contorting as his body jerked. Dredmore's hand came away from my mouth, and he turned me to him, trying to hide my face against him. Only then did I realize I was silently weeping, and I clutched at him in despair.

The chains stopped rattling, and when I looked again Doyle hung in garments reduced to rags, his body ominously still.

“I think he is dead now.” Desney went to release the chains, and let Doyle drop to the floor. “Shall I burn the body like the other failures?”

“Not just yet.” Lykaon walked over to Doyle and crouched beside him. “This one has a switch, remember?” He pressed Doyle's palm.

I nearly screamed as Doyle's eyes opened, and two struts shot out of his sides to push him upright. When they contracted, he stood, swaying as he stared at the floor.

“It still functions.” Desney bent to peer at Doyle's
face. “The device will animate him, of course, but the flesh will soon rot—”

Before he could finish Doyle lashed out at him, sending him sprawling, before he lifted his head and eyed Lykaon.

“I am your master now,” the Aramanthan said. “You will not attack until I command you.” As Doyle took a step toward him, he frowned. “Desney, it does not obey. Desney?”

Doyle lunged, seizing Lykaon and tossing him into the cages, where the Wolfmen howled and clawed at the bars. He followed, his hands bulging with the mech inside as he reached for the immortal's throat. At the last minute he faltered, looking down at his hand and then turning away. His steps shuffled, and then lengthened, and when he reached a wall he punched a hole through it, stepped out, and was gone.

Lykaon went to Desney, lifting him up to shake him. “Why doesn't it obey me?”

The rude little man's head lolled to one side, revealing the gruesome angle of his broken neck.

The Aramanthan made a disgusted sound, dropping the dead man before opening several cages. “Come, my soldiers. We have a new recruit to tame.”

•   •   •

Dredmore would not listen to me as he led me out through the back of Lykaon's ghastly Wolfmen factory. “The inspector is still alive, and has a far better chance than we of prevailing over Lykaon, or of escaping on his own.”

“We have to find him and bring him to Docket,” I insisted. “He'll know what to do to get the mech out of him.”

Dredmore stopped. “Charmian, you saw the transformation. That device is now inside Doyle's body. Removing it without killing the inspector is impossible.”

“Not if we obtain some of Lykaon's blood. Its healing powers will restore him, I know it will.” What I didn't know was how we would manage taking it. “Isn't there some spell you can use to put him to sleep, or freeze him again, long enough for us to funnel some blood out of him?”

“The only reason the first freezing spell worked was because he was not expecting it. He will be on his guard now, and counter any magic I attempt to use against him.” Dredmore marched me out into the alley, where Connell and a carri were waiting for us. “We will consult with Harry as to what may be done for the inspector.”

“Harry, oh, God.” I tugged at him. “Lykaon trapped him in the body of a street boy. He's still somewhere inside.”

“I will go and retrieve him.” Dredmore lifted me into the carri. “You will stay here.”

I was exhausted, frightened, and angry, but I wasn't going back in that club ever again. “I'll wait.”

Dredmore said something to Connell before he went back into the building. The minutes seemed to drag as I watched for him, and then saw him emerge alone.

I jumped out of the carri. “Where is he?”

“Not in the club. He escaped during the commotion.” Dredmore glanced down the street. “He will not have gotten far. We will find him.”

“He won't walk about in the open; he'll look for someplace he can hide until daybreak.” I thought for a moment. “The park.”

Dredmore had Connell drive us round the block and make a circuit of the park's borders, but it was too dark see anything from the street.

“Connell, stop. I'm getting out.” When Dredmore frowned, I said, “He can't see me in the carri.” I reached for the door handle.

He stopped me. “May I remind you that Lykaon and the Wolfmen are out there as well?”

“Sod them,” I said flatly. “Harry is stuck inside a helpless little boy. I'm not leaving him here.”

“I'll go with you.” Dredmore removed his cloak and draped it over my shoulders. “Don't argue, Charmian. You're white as chalk and ready to drop.”

I did take his arm as we started into the park, and peered at every shrub and flower bed we passed. “Lykaon imprisoned Harry in a stone and made the boy swallow it. As soon as we find him, we have to get the stone out.”

“That can be done with a finger down the throat, or a spell to prompt Nature to take its course.” Dredmore stopped at the fountain in the center of the park and turned. “Try summoning him.”

I closed my eyes, sending out my thoughts, but felt no response. “Maybe he can't hear me inside the stone.”

“You are too impatient.” He guided me to a bench. “Harry heard and watched you all the years he was imprisoned in your nightstone pendant.”

I hadn't told him that, now or in the time before Zarath had possessed him. “You didn't discover that in your dreams. Who told you?”

“Harry did.” Dredmore chafed my cold hands between his. “He also said you were captured and
taken to a native village, where you were adopted by the shaman who has been attacking you. I assume they traded you to Lykaon for their sacred relic.”

“He didn't give them the real War Heart.” I scanned the perimeter of the fountain. “It's not in the club, either. I looked for it.”

“I expect the Aramanthan will have moved it to a safer location.” Something rustled behind us. “You may come out now, Harry. It's safe.”

“Safe my tiny ass.” The street urchin climbed out from under the bench and stood up to brush some leaves from his garms. “I saw that wretch running after that cop with a herd of his beasts. I'd have stopped him”—he gazed down at his body in disgust—“if I weren't the size of a blasted monkey.”