The Ghost Rebellion (38 page)

Another shot rang out as Jekyll thrust out his monstrous hand. His laugh now sounded more like deep grunts as he slowly opened his undulating fist. The bullet fell from his hand and bounced against the courtyard.

“
Get to cover, darling,” Wellington called, working the bolt of his rifle. “I have an appointment with the good doctor here. One a long time coming.”

It was Wellington coming closer to her, but she didn’t recognise him. He had a dead stare in his eyes, that same one as he had at the Army & Navy Building. In his words and inflection, though, she heard him. It was her Wellington. She hoped he could keep control of whatever this doctor had created in him.

The archivist shouldered the rifle and fired again. His hand worked the bolt so quickly, it caused Eliza to blink. That was just not humanly possible. The next shot knocked Jekyll over, but he leapt upright just as quickly. It was not a mistake or her eyes playing tricks: Jekyll had doubled in size, and his smile stretched literally from one ear to the other.

The rifle was ready for another shot, but this time, only the
click
of the trigger came.

“
Trust me, Eliza,” Wellington said, tossing the rifle aside, while his gaze never left Jekyll. Instead he drew from his pocket an Apache revolver—God only knew where he got one of those. “I will be fine. Take cover, stop the Ghost Rebellion. This is my fight.”

She had never seen that look on his face. Complete and total commitment. Far be it from her to deny him this.

“
Little Wellington,” roared Jekyll. “Come sit on Uncle Henry’s knee?”

Eliza was transfixed. She watched as her lover held out the revolver and began shooting, quickening his pace towards Jekyll with each shot. The monstrous man swung an arm, now the size of a tree trunk, across Wellington’s path. However, the archivist slipped beneath the backhand attack, tucking and rolling under the arm and firing two shots into Jekyll’s chest. Perhaps it was the calibre he was using or the massive flesh Jekyll’s torso was comprised of, or a combination of both, but the mad doctor only stumbled a step backward.

“
Stings a bit,” Jekyll growled.

Wellington slipped his fingers into the knuckle duster. Unless he could get another weapon with a bit more stopping power, it was going to be fisticuffs, which would not last long against this monster.

She couldn’t stay here to watch. Bullets were eating their way closer to her. Getting to her feet, Eliza sprinted for the closest cover. Shots whizzed by as she zig-zagged across the courtyard and found a corner shielded from the Ghost Rebellion’s ranks.

It was there she stumbled over Sophia del Morte.
“Vaffanculo!”

Eliza drew her own signature pair. “Must admit—never pegged you for a pistol girl.”

“
I adapt to my surroundings,” she stated, half-climbing over Eliza. “Now, if you will excuse me.”

She popped her head out only for a moment, ducked back, raised her pistols, and on leaning out released an impressive volley from their vantage point.

When Sophia returned to their shared hiding spot, Eliza watched her for a moment as she quickly replaced spent shells with fresh ones. “You know, this is an excellent hiding spot, but I for one would rather not stay here if we don’t have to.”

Sophia looked up from her pistols, green eyes flashing. “Meaning?”

It was time to trust her enemy. Again. “We need to get around them, box them in.”

Sophia raised an eyebrow at the notion. “Really? And for this risk, exactly what am I to gain?”

Eliza’s forearm struck Sophia’s chest, pushing her against the Palace’s red sandstone. “Wellington needs our help as do the members of Her Majesty’s infantry and the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences. Performing a selfless, heroic act for these brave men and women could change their perception of you, wouldn’t you agree?”

Eliza was able to read the flickers of emotion on the assassin’s face. Rage, comprehension, and then finally, chilly acceptance. They both knew the odds.

However, when Eliza released Sophia she gave her a slight shove as a reminder of who was in charge. “Follow my lead,” Eliza said.

The two women emerged from their corner, four pistols firing into the melee. Shadows were appearing from the palace’s surrounding archways. The rebels were fortified, for the time being.

“
Focus on visible infantry,” she called out to Sophia as they continued backward.

“
Contact Left,” Sophia called, turning one of her pistols on a target taking aim from a pavilion.

“
Go, run!” Eliza called to her, firing a final shot before sprinting the remaining feet to an open corridor of the palace.

“
Eliza!” a voice called out.

From the opposite end of the hall, she could see O’Neil waving.

“
Keep firing,” she reminded Sophia before sprinting towards him.

He and Director Smith had taken a position in an alcove connecting two corridors. Both seemed none the worse for wear, though O’Neil kept his rifle at his shoulder.

“
Now would be a good time for the appearance of your Queensbury Rules, Maulik,” Eliza said, checking her own pistols.

“
I dare not on account of Wellington in the fray,” the director said, patting the mounted Gatling cannon in his chair.

Sophia ran up to join them, her pistols now dumping empty shells at her feet. “Eliza suggested a pincer movement,” she said while reloading.

“
Our intention as well,” O’Neil replied with a frown, motioning to the eight others with them, “but our numbers are rather thin. We have a unit of twelve attempting to hold that junction while we work our way around to the other side of the palace.”

“
What about that Mule’s Kick?” Eliza asked. “That could give us quite an advantage.”

“
Agent March!” Maulik called out.

The young agent stepped forward, her blue eyes bright and her blonde hair loose around her face. From her expression, combat such as this was something new and she was enjoying it immensely. “Yes, sir?”

“
Agent Ellie March, this is Agent Braun. You two should get along swimmingly.”

“
Excellent shooting back there,” Eliza said. Her smile faltered as she saw the young agent armed with a standard Bulldog. The odd experimental Wellington had used on the
African Sunset
was dangling from March’s belt. “Why aren’t you using the Mule’s Kick?”

“
The charge,” she said, glancing down at it. “It takes a spell or three before she’s ready.”

“
Any way you can speed up the process, perchance?”

March bit her lip, a sweet gesture in the midst of a firefight. “The clankertons did give us a basics in maintenance, but when it came to modifications, they were insistent about us not tinkering with its inner-workings.”

“
Well damn that,” Eliza said, removing the weapon from March’s belt. “At this point we need to get creative.”

“
O’Neil, I suggest you give Wellington cover fire,” Maulik said, wheeling over to the open junction of their corridor. “I will make sure we have no unwanted callers.”

“
You heard Director Smith,” O’Neil called out. “Find a window. Cover Books.”

Eliza whacked the handle of the pistol against the floor until one of its wood panels popped off, revealing a wide array of wires, gears, and small orbs that pulsated in time with the slow, rhythmic ticking of its mechanics. Two she immediately identified as leading to power sources, based on the heat and light the orbs gave off.

“
Exactly what are we looking at?” Sophia demanded, peering into the Mule Kick’s inner workings.

“
Safety measures, power regulators,” March replied. The young girl knew her weapons. “Or more importantly things to insure you don’t go ‘boom’ when you pull the trigger.”

“
These bits and bobs are reasons I am not particularly happy with experimentals in the field,” Eliza said, following the wiring with her eyes. “They are supposed to make weapons like these work efficiently, but not to their potential.”

“
Are you tinkering with an experimental during a combat situation?” Sophia asked.

“
Oh bloody brilliant, this is!” March said excitedly.

Eliza rather liked this girl.

“
It’s not like I’ve done it before,” Eliza assured them as she held a pair of fingers over one of the glowing orbs. Then, on moving to the other, “All right then, this one is the temperature regulator.”

Sophia fixed a hard stare on her. “You do understand these sciences, yes?”

“
Hardly,” she said, pinching the small orb between her fingernails until it finally popped out of its housing, “but I know enough about modifying weapons to be dangerous. It’s all a matter—oh bugger all, these wires are small!” she swore.

Sophia reached up and pulled out two hairpins from her head. “I do hope you are a fan of Far Eastern cuisine.”

“
I am from New Zealand, so I have run missions in China, Japan, and Korea,” Eliza replied, taking the two pins into her free hand and balancing them between her fingers. She tested the pinching action she could manage from them and nodded, “and I adore sushi.”

The hairpins dug into the mess of wires, weaving their way through to the one Eliza needed. The red one. How she loved the colour red.

“
Right then,” she said, capturing it in her grasp. “Just give it a little
tug
,” and sparks flew from the array. “Now I just need to find—” and her hairpins trapped a green wire and pulled it free as well. She returned the fine pins back to Sophia and then, with her fingertips, Eliza twisted the frayed ends of each wire together. “This is what we call a Christmas Surprise. The green wire is usually tied in with the firing mechanism. In a sense, what I am doing—”

“
You are bypassing the temperature regulator,” Agent March spoke quickly, her cheeks seeming to glow as she added, “which was slowing down the energy build process. This Christmas Surprise has now cut the charging process to half the time. It could also increase the Kick’s output.” Eliza and Sophia stared at the young agent for a moment. Agent March giggled. “I really do love Science.”

Once the connection was secure, Eliza flipped the Mule’s Kick over to look at the power gauge. It was quickly reaching a maximum charge.

Eliza called out, “O’Neil, are you ready?”

“
Yes, ma’am!” he replied. He got in one more shot before calling out, “Move people. To the junction!”

The mix of Ministry and military sprinted for the junction where Maulik waited, his gloved fingers tapping nervously against the triggers of his Queensbury Rules. Ahead of them, they could hear the rebels coming. “I do believe the Ghost Rebellion are on their way.”

“
Agent March,” Eliza said, releasing the safety on the Kick, “back to the front lines with you. Sophia, get behind me.”

The assassin inclined her head. “I am using you as a shield?”

Eliza gave her a wry grin. “Not today. Just brace me. There’s a reason it’s called the Mule’s Kick.” She then called out to the troops as Sophia took position behind her. “Hold your fire on my mark!” Eliza glanced at the Mule’s Kick and took in a deep breath. “Ready, Sophia?”

“
Ready,” she replied, her breath hot on Eliza’s neck.

 
Eliza pulled the trigger, and waited. The seconds ticking by felt like those when facing Featherstone.

The cries of the rebels echoed around them as the first of their numbers came out of the shadows.

Then the handle began to vibrate.

“
Now!” she shouted, leaning forward.

Sophia’s hands pressed against Eliza’s shoulders as the blast from the Mule’s Kick threatened to send her back into the junction. Instead she remained upright as the energy rippled along the walls, floor, and ceiling, knocking all the rebels in every direction. They were either given a good thrashing when thrown into their comrades or a quick death when thrown into the ceiling or wall.

Military and Ministry charged into the falling dust of the experimental’s attack, leaving Sophia and Eliza behind. The Mule’s Kick weighed incredibly heavy in her hand, but had most assuredly proven its worth.

“
Well done,” Sophia said. “We are still alive. That is an accomplishment.”

Eliza felt a reply on the tip of her tongue, but then her hand—or the object in her hand—began to vibrate. She looked down at the Mule’s Kick. It was powering up once again.

“
What is the matter?” Sophia asked.

Eliza swallowed hard. “We might have a problem.”

Interlude

Wherein the Ministry’s Finest Make a Noble Final Stand

The Russian winter tore at Bruce’s hands and cheeks. Through the riding goggles, the light snow did not seem to be falling so much as it was rushing at him. It gave him the illusion that he was moving faster than he actually was, but much to Dmitri’s credit both he and Ryfka were making incredible time. The darkness and incoming weather, however, did very little to boost Bruce’s confidence.

He pried his eyes away from the road to look down at the sidecar to his right. Bundled in blankets was Ryfka, and from the looks of how she was sitting, it was impossible to tell if she were conscious or even alive.

Stop thinking that way,
Bruce chided himself silently.
If she were dead, she’d be flopping around like a damned fish on the pier. She’s still with you. Still in the game.
 

He glanced down at the compass set within the dash of the bike. They were still on course. The road Dmitri had told them to follow was just as he said—a straight path to Łódź. Just follow the road, keep an eye on the compass, and stop for nothing. So far, the plan was working. Bruce had promised his mate Brandon a pint. He was determined to make good on that promise.