The Doomsday Vault (44 page)

“Play má què with the Queen, darlings,” Edwina called as she was towed out the door. “Má què!”

“Poor bugger,” one of the remaining agents muttered. “Gone completely round the bend already.”

Lieutenant Phipps stood to one side. Her arms were folded, flesh on brass. Gavin hadn't heard her arrive, and he wondered how much trouble he was in. “It's three o'clock, ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “Smith, Peters—get the clockworker back to headquarters before morning traffic. The rest of you, dismantle this place immediately.”

A “yes, ma'am” chorus echoed around the room. Phipps dropped into Edwina's chair. Alice and Gavin were on their feet.

“How did you know to come here, Lieutenant?” Gavin asked.

Phipps nodded at Alice. “Her automaton told us.”

“Kemp?” Gavin blinked. “He wasn't supposed to—”

“I told him to tell them if we didn't return within two hours,” Alice said quietly. “I'm sorry, Gavin. I didn't think it was a good idea to go off alone.”

His mouth hung open. “You lied about the hot bath and the tea.”

“Yes.” She looked unhappy. “But it was a good thing, in the end.”

“We'll talk about it later,” Gavin said.

“Once again,” Phipps put in, “I'm torn between praising you and shooting you. This
is
the clockworker who's been terrorizing London with the zombies and who tried to steal the war mechanical, correct?”

“Yeah,” Gavin said. “She was also Alice's aunt Edwina in disguise, so we got two for one.”

Phipps bolted to her feet. “
That
was Edwina?”

“It was,” Alice replied.

“You're both in for a bonus and a holiday,” Phipps said. “See me back at headquarters for your report.” And she was gone.

“That was strange,” Gavin said. “She never gives bonuses, let alone holidays.”

“It's not strange at all. The Queen's letter said her job was in danger if Edwina wasn't captured, remember? And Edwina can make the cure for the clockwork plague.”

“Which the Ward already has, if we can believe her,” Gavin said. “Alice, I hate to say it, but I think your aunt is entering the final stage. She said she has bad spells, and she was losing her mind there toward the end. All that business about má què with the Queen. All that stuff about a cure may have been rambling.”

Alice shook her head. “I don't think so. It was all too careful, too reasoned.”

Meanwhile, agents were rushing about the laboratory. They had already brought down crates and boxes and were packing up Edwina's materials with swift movements that bespoke long practice. Simon was dismantling some equipment while Glenda took notes on how it went together. Glass clinked and metal clanged. Within three or four hours, all traces of the laboratory would be gone. Alice was swaying on her feet, her face drawn with exhaustion, and Gavin remembered how long they'd been awake. Their encounter at the symphony had happened this evening, but it felt like days ago. When had he last slept? He couldn't remember, though he didn't feel particularly tired—not with everything that had happened.

“We should get you back to headquarters,” he said to Alice. “You look half-dead.”

“If that's the sort of compliment you're going to give from here on out,” Alice said, yawning, “perhaps I should have stayed with Norbert.”

They left the other agents and went topside, where they found their snorting horses amid a crowd of Ward carts and carriages. The ride back was chilly, partly due to the early-morning mist, and partly due to the fatigue that drained the heat from Gavin's bones. When they reached Ward headquarters, Kemp met them at the door with two cups of hot tea on a tray.

“Madam and Sir should have taken a hackney cab and let someone else bring the horses,” he fussed. “Shall I bring a warmed wrap for Madam?”

“Thank you, no, Kemp.”

Gavin drank hot tea and felt better as it warmed his insides. “You should go to bed, Alice.”

“I agree, Madam,” Kemp said. “I shall warm your sheets straightaway.”

Alice shook her head. “We still have to report to Phipps, and I want to check on Aunt Edwina.”

Kemp's eyes flickered. “According to Mrs. Babbage—”

“Mrs. Babbage?” Alice interrupted.

“That is what the Third Ward's primary Babbage engine prefers to be called,” Kemp said. “We have established an excellent working relationship. At any rate, Mrs. Babbage says Lieutenant Phipps is down on the clockworker level.”

“No doubt with Aunt Edwina,” Alice said. “Let's go.”

Against Gavin's better judgment, they headed for the creaking lift. Down in the stony underground, however, they found a pair of guards at the entrance to the hallway. Gavin scrambled to remember their names—Sean Something and Something Donaldson.

“Sorry, ma'am, sir,” Sean said. “Lieutenant Phipps left orders that no one is to enter the clockworker section until further notice.”

“But she's my aunt!” Alice protested.

“Lieutenant Phipps?” said Donaldson, puzzled.

“No, I—oh, never mind.” She turned to Gavin. “I'm exhausted. Let's go to bed.”

Despite the events of the day, the phrase went straight through Gavin's brain to other parts of his body, which too happily responded. “Uh . . .”

“Oh, good heavens.” Face flaming, Alice turned and stalked toward the lift. Gavin followed, though not before Sean shot him a small salute. In the lift itself, Alice stared resolutely forward. She was still wearing her cloth cap, though Gavin had taken his off indoors. Should women who wore male clothing remove their hats inside? He had no idea. Maybe some of the rules Alice worried so much about made sense—they told you what to do in a number of situations.

“I don't like lies,” he said suddenly. Around them, the cage shuddered and creaked. “It bothers me that you lied to me about what you told Kemp.”

“Would you have gone along with it if I hadn't?” she countered.

“No.”

She shrugged. “That's why I did it.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Look, I'm not perfect. When I was little, back in Boston, I lied about all kinds of things so people would give me money, and on the
Juniper
I lied to the pirates, and when I'm on a case for the Ward, I lie to all kinds of people. But I never lied to my family, and I never lied to Captain Naismith, and I never lied to Lieutenant Phipps, and I never lied to you. I can't do this if I think you might lie to me.”

She thought about that. “Gavin, I lie to survive. I lied to my father about where I was going and what I was doing in order to sell my automatons or to sneak books out of the subscription library so I could read about science instead of poetry. I lied to Norbert about my feelings for him. And there's more. My title hides who I really am. My clothes hide what I really look like. Even the Third Ward hides its true purpose. Our entire society lies. We give the lie so the truth can live beneath it.”

“You can lie to other people all you want,” Gavin said. “But not to me. I love you for the real you, for the truth.” He took both her hands in his. “I can't do this if you're going to lie.”

“Oh, Gavin.” Her eyes grew wet. “I've been lying for so long, I'm not sure if I know how to tell the truth all the time. But I'll try.”

He nodded, disappointed but understanding. “I suppose that's the best I can hope for.”

The lift thumped to a halt, and Gavin opened the gates for them. At the place where the men's and women's dormitories diverged, they kissed and went their separate ways.

 

Two days later, a tap on wood snapped Gavin awake. Gavin always snapped awake, often with the ghost of Madoc Blue's hands on his body and the first officer's lash on his back. Months gone and he still lived those moments as if they were yesterday. By now, he had forgotten how to wake up like a normal person.

Doves cooed in the barn rafters far overhead. All around him stood a great expanse of space—the building was an empty wooden shell resting on an ancient fieldstone foundation. On the dirt floor nearby squatted a small electric generator. A heavy cord exited one end and terminated at the large, bulbous form that took up a great deal of the barn's empty space. Gavin sat at a carpenter's worktable strewn with drawings and tools, and he remembered deciding to put his head down for just a moment. Sawdust stuck to his cheek. The knock came again, more urgently this time.

“Who is it?” he called.

The barn sported two enormous doors that would allow a piled hay wagon to enter—or a large project to exit—but next to them was a smaller door for more everyday use. It creaked open, and Alice backed in. She wore a dark skirt and white blouse. Her honey brown hair had been pulled back under a small hat, but a few loose tendrils framed her face.

“Alice!” Startled, he leapt to his feet and hurried over to her. “Alice, what are you doing here? I didn't say come in!”

“It's only a barn. Besides, I couldn't wait to tell you. You haven't been to the main house for almost two days now, and—oh!”

Gavin plunged a hand into his coat pocket and found the silver nightingale. He fiddled with it nervously. His sleeves were pushed to the elbows, and bits of grease and sawdust speckled his forearms, and his hair looked like a haystack. In short, he looked a right mess. But her gaze went over his shoulder to the dirigible.

The dirigible was actually small, as such things went. The envelope, longer and leaner than most, was perhaps the length of two cottages and only as high as one. It barely eclipsed its own gondola, which rested on the floor in the final stages of completion while the envelope hovered overhead. Gavin had been about to set the generator in place when he decided to take a rest.

“Are you building this?” Alice asked in wonder.

“Refitting it, actually. Only the envelope is new. I've been working on it off and on for a few months now, but lately the work's been going faster. Has it really been two days since I've been in—?”

“It has. Why didn't you want me to come in?”

He flushed a little. “I didn't want you to see it until it was finished.”

“Oh. I'm sorry. Well, since the cat's out of the bag, I may as well have a look.” Alice set the tea tray down on the table and walked slowly around it. The dirigible kept its ropes taut, and a fine mesh seemed to hold the envelope's fabric together, a thin, loopy lattice that pressed against the cloth from inside, rather like a lacework skeleton.

Gavin watched Alice in silence, turning the clockwork nightingale over and over in his fingers and feeling oddly unsettled at her appearance. At long last, Alice had left her fiancé for him. The memory of each kiss they had shared clung to his skin like individual talismans. But the ease with which Alice lied still bothered him.

Gavin suppressed a groan as Alice completed her circuit of the airship. It wasn't fair. Everything was supposed to be wonderful now that Alice had joined the Ward and admitted her feelings for him. Did life ever go smoothly?

“What do you think?” he said, and waited for the polite lie.

“I like it. It's very sleek,” she said. “Very modern.”

“I see,” he said neutrally, though his heart was tearing inside. She had lied—again.

She twisted one hand in her skirt. “But,” she added slowly, “it'll never fly, Gavin. The envelope is too small to lift a gondola that large.”

And Gavin felt abruptly light. “Really?” he said. “You think so?”

“Darling, it's obvious. I don't even have to work out the math. What were you thinking?”

In that moment he could have leapt to the faraway ceiling. “Help me anyway.”

Careful not to trip over the cord, he lifted the little generator with easy strength and hauled it up the short ramp onto the gondola's main deck, which smelled of linseed oil and sawdust. Alice snatched up the tea tray and followed. Gavin lowered the generator in place on the deck and set to work with a wrench to bolt it down. Alice laid the tray on the deck next to him. Teapot, bread, butter, jam, sliced ham. Red rose in a vase. His stomach growled.

“When did you last eat?” she asked.

“I don't remember. I'm almost done and I want to finish.” He grabbed a piece of bread and butter from the tray and wolfed it down. “What couldn't you wait to tell me?”

“What?”

He reached for another bolt. “When you first came in, you said you couldn't wait to tell me something.”

“Ah. I know what to do next.”

“About what?”

“Oh,” Alice said. “Oh dear.”

“What?”

“I was just noticing how handsome you look in the morning, Mr. Ennock, even when you're all dirty and tousled. Or maybe it's
when
you're all dirty and tousled. I think you owe me a kiss for bringing you tea.”

Without a thought, he gave her one. It was distinctly odd, kissing Alice with a heavy wrench in one hand and rich bread in the other. It felt decadent, something a prince might do. When they parted, he held the bread up to her mouth, and she took a languorous bite. Her lips grazed across his fingers, and her soft tongue brushed his knuckle. A shudder coursed over Gavin, and he was suddenly very glad to be kneeling.

“I'm in a bachelor's workshop without a chaperone,” Alice murmured. “How wicked am I?”

“Very wicked,” he said hoarsely.

Her hand ran up the length of his thigh. Blood sang in Gavin's ears. He very nearly threw the wrench aside and snatched her to him. Instead, carefully setting tool and food down, he touched her face, then her hair, then her shoulders. He left a smear of grease on her cheek. She guided his hand lower until it was on her breast, and she gasped as he pressed its warmth beneath his palm.