The Deepest Poison (7 page)

Authors: Beth Cato

BOOK: The Deepest Poison

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“What, never seen a pneumatic tube system before?” He brayed a laugh. “The message will go right to the desk. Hold here.”

All the best inventions come from Tamarania.
She shook her head in awe. Yet another reminder that she was in the place that invented airships, mechas, and even gremlins.

A few more minutes of restless pacing, and she heard that familiar song of marching-Âband brassesâÂdistorted. Alonzo nigh broke the glass door as he flung it wide. Relief shone in his eyes. Even with noise of his song dimmed by the headband, blood screamed beneath his clothes.
Ribs. Muscle shredded. Bone chipped.

“Al .Â .Â . Mr. Garret.” She could have hugged him, but she knew it would worsen his pain.

“I was just about to head upstairs, m'lady. Now we shall go together. My thanks to you, sir.” Alonzo extended a hand to the doorman, to which the man responded with a bright smile. There'd been a coin tucked in Alonzo's palm.

She followed Alonzo into an austere hallway. “You were stabbed. Several hours ago,” she murmured.

“Yes. 'Tis not that bad, truly.” He frowned. “You are aware of this, just as you were aware of the ailments of the factory workers?”

“Yes. My senses have strengthened in a rather obnoxious way. The city .Â .Â . has been especially taxing.” She gestured to her headband. “This is all that's keeping me from crouching in a corner, aware of the screaming maladies of passersby.”

Alonzo's brows drew together in thought. They stood before the black wire of the lift doors. Judging by the number of floors, they would have quite a wait. At least her senses informed her that he could manage awhile more, though in agony.

“What happened, Alonzo?”
Shallow wound. No poison, but there are always zymes to cause infections. Someone aimed for his kidneys. “
Someone was trying to kill you. Was it .Â .Â . ?”
Clockwork Daggers? Wasters?

He stared at the ticking light on the dial that showed the lift floors. “No. None of our past acquaintances. The train car was mostly occupied by Caskentian workers of a desperate nature. One decided to liberate me of my coins and bag, and when that effort failed, my body.”

“Yes. They were a rather desperate lot.”

His gaze snapped to her. “Were you assaulted?”

“Don't you dare fuss over me. Must you end up injured in every single city?”

“Considering our âsmashing' arrival in Tamarania, I feel I have done quite well today.”

“I'll grant you that. A straightforward stabbing is preferable to breaking most every bone in your body, not to mention potential immolation. Your piloting skills are to be applauded.”

“Thank you. Ah, here we are.”

The lift lowered into place. The iron gate cranked open. ÂPeople exited, eyeing them and granting a wide berth. The lift man looked none too pleased to be in their company either. Octavia's tepid smile didn't seem to relieve him. Fortunately the ride only lasted five floors.

“Room 553,” Alonzo said as they staggered together into a carpeted hallway. The place was staid and clean with white wainscoting and cream paint. Pneumatic tubes followed the walls and connected to each room.

“Is your mother here?” They walked past 550, 551.

“I know not. At the front desk I sent up a message that was approved byâÂ”

The door ahead of them burst open. “He's here! He's here!” A small body lunged from the domicile. She looked to be perhaps ten or twelve in age, her kinky black hair cropped close to her skull and molded into a pastrylike swirl. Her skin shone in a bright nutmeg tone. Icy-Âblue eyes, just like Alonzo's, were filled with tears. Alonzo caught her with a pain-Âfilled grunt as he was almost bowled over.

“Tatiana!” The name was an agonized wheeze.

The girl bounced in place, squeezing him. “When the desk sent up the message, I could hardly believe it! You, here! I'm so happy!”

Octavia forced her jaw up again as she looked between them. “Ah .Â .Â . Alonzo?”

Sweet Lady. Do I really know this man at all? Is this his daughter?
Â

About the Author

BETH CATO
hails from Hanford, California, but currently writes and bakes cookies in a lair outside of Phoenix, Arizona. She shares the household with a hockey-Âloving husband, a numbers-Âobsessed son, and a cat the size of a canned ham. You can follow her on Twitter @bethcato.

www.bethcato.com

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By Beth Cato

The Clockwork Dagger

The Clockwork Crown

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Excerpt from
The Clockwork Crown
copyright Â© 2015 by Beth Cato.

THE
DEEPEST
POISON
. Copyright Â© 2015 by Beth Cato. All rights reserved under International and Pan-ÂAmerican Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-Âbook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-Âengineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperÂCollins e-Âbooks.

EPub Edition APRIL 2015 ISBN: 9780062411242

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