Howls and Hallows: A Steampunk Fairy Tale (Steampunk Red Riding Hood Book 5)

by Melanie Karsak

  “Please,” Lionheart said, motioning for her to stay. “Agent Louvel, may I have a word with you—outside?”

  Remembering that the grotto was holy ground, and likely very painful for him—though he was hiding it well—I nodded. “Of course.”

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Madame Louvel,” Lionheart told Grand-mère.

  “And you,” she said, offering him a bright smile. “Come any time.”

  When Lionheart turned to go, Grand-mère caught my eye and gave me an approving nod.

  Oh, good lord.

  Lionheart and I headed outside.

  “Is it better out here?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Thank you. Your Grand-mère is delightful, but it felt like my blood was boiling in its veins.”

  The morning sunlight reflected on Lionheart’s hair, capturing tones of gold and copper. His blue eyes shimmered brightly.

  We walked toward the gate.

  “Your bike is just there,” I said, gesturing.

  “I’m not here for the bike.”

  I paused. “Why are you here?”

  “For you. I… I have been alive a very long time. I have never let myself love anyone out of fear. Bryony cared for me, and she paid the price. Her blood is on my hands, and it plagues me still. God made me like this, Clemeny. He made me and my brothers like this. The others have made peace with what we are, but it never sat right with me. You know I was married once, but she was my family’s choosing. I cared for her, and I loved my son. But I… I’ve never really loved anyone. Never. Until you.”

  “Richard.”

  “Please, hear me out. It’s taking everything I have to get through this.”

  I nodded.

  “I went back to the beginning, back to the Holy Land, sought the word of God. Why was I granted this life? Why? Then I realized, if I had not lived this long, I never would have met Clemeny Louvel. I have been afraid all this time, afraid to love someone. I kept Bryony away, but she died anyway. I’ve been afraid to let myself love. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. But then I realized, I’ve never met anyone stronger than you. Nothing can touch you. It’s safe for me to love you, and I do. I love you, Clemeny. And I think you love me too.”

  I stared at him. My heart beat wildly in my chest. I couldn’t catch a breath to speak.

  “I know I can’t offer you a normal life, but I am wise enough to know when I have met my match. You know what I am, and I am all yours, if you will have me.”

  I stared into his eyes. My mind reeled.

  “Clemeny?”

  “Edwin proposed,” I blurted out, unable to form any kind of explanation that would make sense.

  Lionheart’s joyous, hopeful expression flattened at once. The light dimmed from his eyes, and he looked away. His hand trembling, he pushed back that stray lock of hair.

  “Very well,” he said. “We shall be brothers in arms as we have been which is well and I think I should go now but you should keep the bike,” he muttered as he turned and walked away from me.

  My hands shook.

  Lionheart opened the gate, the metal squeaking.

  Forcing my feet to move, I rushed after him.

  “I said no,” I called.

  Lionheart stopped.

  “I said no,” I repeated as I met him on the sidewalk outside.

  He turned and looked back at me. “You said no.”

  I nodded. “I said no.”

  Lionheart swallowed hard, covering his mouth with his hand as he regained his composure. Pulling himself back together—were those actual tears in his eyes?—he beamed a smile at me then turned toward the steambike.

  “Do you like it?” he asked.

  I nodded. “It got me where I needed to go.”

  “Chasing thieves, from what I hear.”

  “Not that the Templars were any help, but yes.”

  “Blackwood tells me there was an incident in the Dark District. Some thugs—wolves, of course—came in on an airship and were stirring up trouble.”

  “Sounds like they need to be taught a lesson.”

  “That they do. Shall we?” he asked, motioning to the bike.

  “Why don’t I drive?” I asked.

  Lionheart chuckled. “I am the alpha.”

  “So am I.”

  Lionheart grinned.

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine, I’ll let you drive. Just this once.”

  Lionheart slipped on the steambike. I slid on behind him and wrapped my arms around him. I inhaled deeply, taking in his sharp, masculine scent. I allowed him to fill my senses. Maybe Lionheart got to drive, but this was the only reason I’d said yes. I pressed my cheek on his back and closed my eyes.

  “Why, Agent Louvel. I do believe you missed me.”

  “More than you can ever imagine.”

  He paused then set his hand on mine. “I promise, you won’t be sorry.”

  “Of course not. I carry two pistols loaded with silver bullets. Things can only go my way.”

  “Indeed? Then why did you let me drive?”

  “Because I was overdue for a little rattling about.”

  “Oh, Agent Louvel. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  * * *

  Thank You and Author’s Note

  Thank you for reading Howls and Hallows. If you enjoyed the novel, would you mind leaving a review, and let other potential readers know you enjoyed the story? Word of mouth is an author’s best friend!

  Following is a sneak peek of Golden Braids and Dragon Blades: Steampunk Rapunzel. The events in that novel take place the summer before Howls and Hallows. Keep an eye out for Clem, Harper, and Edwin!

  I really had fun writing Howls and Hallows. If you’re a fan of Sherlock Holmes stories, you’ll see I drew inspiration from The Hound of the Baskervilles. I love gothic, atmospheric classics like Holmes’ stories, Jane Eyre, The Castle of Otranto, and other gaslamp tales. Add to that, I binge-watched all six seasons of Downton Abbey in a month. Lady Chadwick was definitely inspired by Maggie Smith’s depiction of the dowager Lady Grantham—though a much less kind version—and Emma, the Cabell Manor maid, was inspired by Downton’s Anna (my favorite of the series). As for the romantic twist, well, what can I say? I know some of you will be delighted. In the end, I always go with what feels right for the characters. And there is still more story to tell.

  Clemeny will be back in the final installment in this series, Lycans and Legends, later this year!

  Thank you so much for reading,

  Cheers,

  Melanie

  Keep in touch with Melanie online

  Melanie Karsak is the author of Steampunk Red Riding Hood, The Airship Racing Chronicles, The Harvesting Series, The Celtic Blood Series, and the Steampunk Fairy Tales Series. A steampunk connoisseur, zombie whisperer, and heir to the iron throne, the author currently lives in Florida with her husband and two children. She is an Instructor of English at Eastern Florida State College.

  Keep in touch with Melanie online.

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  Check out all of Melanie’s Fairy Tales

  Steampunk Red Riding Hood

  Wolves and Daggers, Book 1

  Alphas and Airships, Book 2

  Peppermint and Pentacles, Book 3

  Bitches and Brawlers, Book 4

  Howls and Hallows, Book 5

  Steampunk Fairy Tales

  Beauty and Beastly: Steampunk Beauty and the Beast

  Ice and Embers: Steampunk Snow Queen

  Curiouser and Curiouser: Steampunk Alice in Wonderland

  Golden Braids and Dragon Blades: Steampunk Rapunzel

  The Chancellor Fairy Tales

  The Glass Mermaid

  The Cupcake Witch

  The Fairy Godfather

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  Sneak
Peek: Golden Braids and Dragon Blades

  Steampunk Rapunzel

  Being the heir to Camelot is a tangled mess.

  Rapunzel has spent her entire life living in Merlin's cave on the coast of Cornwall. Under the protection of her faerie guardian, Gothel, she’s stayed safe. Safe and bored. Dreaming of a life that looks more like a Jane Austen novel, Rapunzel fears she'll never have the chance to explore Victorian England's modern delights. Or meet a man. Or be kissed. Or anything else remotely resembling normal.

  When Red Cape Society Agent Ewan Goodwin's monster-stalking device leads him to Rapunzel—and her unusual pets—the pair’s destinies entwine. Together, they must solve a mystery tied to the very roots of King Arthur's Britannia.

  Golden Braids and Dragon Blades is a retelling of the Rapunzel fairy tale set in Melanie Karsak’s bestselling gaslamp London steampunk universe.

  Once Upon a Time…

  Prologue: Gothel

  I stood in the dark under the shadow of the hazel tree. Through the window of their second-floor apartment situated above the fishmonger’s shop, I saw her pace the small flat. She wouldn’t be able to see me, just like he—the father, if you could call him that—had not when he’d come to steal from my garden. I shook my head. Such low people. I fingered the amulet hanging from my neck, a slim metal shard dangling from a braid of silver hair.

  I watched her as I had done these nine long months. She was tall and lanky, her brown curls stuffed up under a scarf. She wore an apron over a drab brown dress. Only her massive stomach, protruding like an infection, gave her body any shape. She walked back and forth across the small space, cursing like a sailor, then put one finger to one nostril and blew her nose onto the floor.

  I squeezed the amulet in my hand, feeling the metal dig into my palm.

  Are you sure? Are you sure this—this—is sacred blood?

  The metal grew hot in my hand.

  I sighed.

  The door slapped open.

  “Oi, Deloris. You here, dove?” Craig—the father—called when he entered their one-room flat.

  Dove? I rolled my eyes.

  “Where have you been?” she asked, slapping him on the head. “I’m worn through. I’m about to take a knife and cut this lump outta me. You get it?”

  He lifted a cloth bag, opening it to reveal the bundle of rapunzel he’d filched from my garden. Deloris grabbed the bag from his hand and began eating it at once.

  “You see ’er?”

  Craig shook his head. “No. Crotchety old witch, probably asleep. I snuck there and back no problem.”

  “Go again tomorrah. Understand? God, I hope this thing gets out of me soon,” she said, swatting her swollen stomach.

  I clenched my jaw at the sight, reminding myself not to do something rash—at least not until the child was born. I squeezed the amulet once more.

  “Any luck with his lordship?” she asked, her mouth full of my greens.

  Craig rubbed his hands together. “He said that if it’s got a cock and balls, he’ll take it. You hear that?” Craig said, shouting at his wife’s protruding belly. “You better be growing the right equipment, or we’re just going to let the Thames have you.”

  “Could sell it to a brothel if it’s a girl.”

  “Enough bastards at a brothel. Might as well just leave it in the woods.”

  “Lord, I’m so hungry!” Deloris said, shoving handfuls of the rapunzel into her mouth. “Make sure you go back tomorrah.”

  “You already said that. Might not be any more growing by then.”

  “Witch’s garden always has a fresh batch by mornin’.”

  “Witch,” Craig said with a laugh. “Half-deaf old hag. A steamcar could roll through her backyard, and she’d never hear.”

  They both laughed.

  I turned and looked at my garden. Craig had trampled my basil in his not-so-subtle attempt at thievery. I frowned then waved my hand over the plants, a shimmer of silver gliding from my fingers. The basil righted once more, springing back to its upright position. As the glimmer of magic cascaded to the soil, a new row of rapunzel sprouted to life. The large, leafy greens would be ready by morning.

  I rolled the amulet around my fingers then gazed back up at the window. Deloris and Craig were now bickering. I eyed the woman’s belly.

  The ninth generation. That’s what Merlin had promised so long ago. I hoped he was right, because I was tired and done with this world. I looked overhead as an airship floated past. An airship. I shook my head. I was most definitely done with this world. Sighing, I turned and headed back inside.

  * * *

  It was the scream in the middle of the night two days later that woke me. I’d fallen asleep in the chair that looked out at their apartment. I rose, leaning against my staff, and went to the window. There was a flurry of activity inside.

  Deloris was cursing.

  Craig flung himself to and fro in an annoyed huff then rushed out the flat door.

  I closed my eyes and twisted my hands. Magic rolled from my fingertips. A glimmer of pink light moved from my fingers and across the garden between my cottage to their tiny apartment. It slipped in through the window unseen. It seemed like forever until her screaming abated. It would go more comfortably for her now.

  Closing my eyes, I waited and listened. It seemed like time had stopped. Finally, I heard it. A single shrill cry rang through the night.

  My teacup sitting in its saucer clattered as it shifted across the table. The windowpanes rattled.

  I opened my eyes and stared through the window.

  A few moments later, Craig flung open the door, and he and the surgeon appeared.

  “By Christ, Deloris. If you were just going to birth the thing yourself, I wouldn’t have fetched the surgeon. Now I have to pay him. Boy or girl?”

  I listened hard but couldn’t hear her answer.

  “Dammit!” Craig exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair.

  Girl.

  The surgeon bent, disappearing out of sight. A few moments later, he rose holding a squalling bundle. The tiny screams had attracted an owl who alighted in my hazel tree. And then another and another. I watched as they all gathered. The bats, the raccoons, the creatures of the night. All were drawn by the baby’s cries.

  I would need to get her away from here. Away from everyone. Anyone who saw her—even people as rude as Deloris and Craig—would eventually notice the child was special. If they didn’t drown her first.

  Craig handed the surgeon some coin, and the man departed.

  I turned and looked around the room. The key to my small cottage lay on the table nearby. A glint of moonlight shimmered on it.

  I nodded. “Very well.”

  Opening my bag, I waved my hand at my few precious belongings, lifting them with magic, directing them to my bag. I grabbed my key and turned and headed outside.

  I ambled around the block toward the fishmonger's shop. As I neared the gaslamps, the flames whispered to me, telling me what must be done.

  Merlin was right after all. We just needed to wait and watch. Now, she had come.

  The surgeon, carrying his medical bag, walked through the foggy air down the cobblestone away from the building, muttering under his breath.

  I cast a glance up at the owls perched on the rooftop of the building.

  “Get hence,” I whispered, waving a hand at them. “Before someone notices you.”

  They hooted loudly and flew off. But they didn’t go far. Large yellow eyes watched from the shadows of the trees nearby.

  As I rounded the building, the stink of fish assailed my nostrils.

  I went to the door leading to the flat upstairs and slowly climbed the steps. I could hear the baby crying and Craig cursing.

  “And just what are we going to do now?” Craig demanded.

  “I’m tired. Shut it,” Deloris snapped.

  I knocked on the door.

  “What was that?” Deloris asked.

  “Probably someone to
come complain about all the noise,” Craig replied then opened the door. “Look—” he began but stopped when he saw me.

  “Well, what is it?” Deloris asked. “Oh, you, quiet down, girl,” she added, scolding the newborn baby.

  Craig stepped back, and I entered the room slowly. I eyed Craig. He was a drunk and thief, nothing more. I turned to Deloris. Just under her skin, I saw the shimmer of something that lay dormant in her blood. She merely carried the seed; she was nothing. When my eyes went to the child, however, I saw the rosy pink glow all around her. Fools, couldn’t they see it too?

  Deloris rocked the child far too roughly as she glared at me. “Well, what do you want?” she finally asked.

  “The child,” I answered simply.

  “The child?” Craig asked with a laugh. “Get out of here before I beat you.”

  “You grew that child with my rapunzel. Shall I tell the constables how you stole from my garden?”

  Craig sneered. “Another word out of you, witch, and I’ll bury you in that garden.”

  I smirked then twisted my fingers, calling forth a sparkle around my fingertips. “I would like to see you try.”

  “Craig,” Deloris whispered. Wide-eyed, she looked from Craig to me.

  “What about a trade?” I asked.

  “Trade? Trade what?” Craig asked.

  I opened my palm, showing them the key lying therein. “My house for your child.”

  The two exchanged a glance then Craig quickly crossed the room and grabbed the bundle from his wife, who shoved it in his direction.

  “No tricks,” he said, eyeing me warily.

  “No tricks. It is a pact. The child for the house. A binding agreement,” I replied.

  He met my eye. “A binding agreement?”

  “You understand me.” From the expression on his face, he did. Breaking a deal with a witch—or so they thought me—would result in death.