by Michael Rigg
“Oh. Thanks,” I said, with a shrug and smirk at my own appearance.
Bryce laughed slightly and approached me, offering his hand to guide me over a box of sewing clutter. "It's simply good to see you in something other than this horrendous woolen bag," he said, taking his coat from me and offering what I had to admit was a charming smile.
"Well," Lucien said with some finality as Bryce sat down on a box beside me. The butler clapped his hands on his knees and said, "I suppose what we need to do now is get this young lady home to Seven Orchards so that we can see what we can learn about her."
I shot him a glance. “You don’t believe I’m a witch anymore?”
Bryce said, “You’ve been cleared by our resident Witchteller.” Pandora looked to Wilco who huffed a smoky laugh.
Pandora and I said it at the same time: “Witchteller?” Only mine was a question. Hers was an accusation.
Bryce quickly answered, shooting the young girl a pointed glare. “My good friend Wilco here told Lucien that you were exactly what ya claimed you weren’t.”
I looked to the little man. How did he know? Was it true, or is this some kind of cover story or diversion to throw water on Lucien? I doubted that they’d be able to tell if I was some kind of sleeper agent for this Thorne & Wolfe company, if indeed, that were the truth to all this.
I glanced from person to person. Pandora's eyes hadn't left me and it seemed Wilco was avoiding me for the most part since Pandora whispered in his ear. Lucien was addressing the room, and Bryce....
I noticed Bryce was staring at me, his eyes twinkling in the lamp and firelight, a tender smile on his face. I reared back slightly, my forehead scrunching at this change in his attention from curious about my situation to curious about me. We locked there for a moment. I stared into his deep brown eyes trying to figure out what had changed, his shining warmth actually making me feel calmer, protected, peaceful.
"Bryce! Pay attention, Cap'n."
Pandora's shout made everyone jump. Lucien, in the process of snuffing his pipe, stood up. "Indeed. We should get to the bridge."
"Whoa," Wilco grumbled. "What'sa point of takin' her all the way to the Orchards? We got access to the Philly library right here. We got Pandy's plane."
The girl, still staring at me, elbowed him.
Wilco continued after a short 'oof' from the rib poke. "I'm sure we can find a thinkin’ machine 'round here connected to A and E, and Bryce, you got yer Corporate Ident. Why all the way to the Orchards? Ain't that a might far from where ya found her? What if she got folks lookin' for her?"
I understood barely a fraction of that, but I looked to Bryce for his answer.
Bryce finally broke his gaze from me and studied Wilco. It was my turn to study Bryce, size up his profile, catch the honesty in his face when he spoke about me to someone else.
"It's simple," he began, "We found her at Thorne & Wolfe. We know she's not a witch." He tipped his head slightly to Wilco, "Thank ya, kind sir. And no. There was no one on hand to claim her, that's certain. I fear her memory loss could be a screen of some kind."
There it was. A screen. I knew it. Maybe I am a sleeper agent. Oh, dear God, I hope it’s not true. They all seem so nice, so protective and curious—especially Bryce.
Bryce looked at me, a trace of sadness in his eyes. "I hope it's not true." He turned back to Wilco, also casting a glance Lucien's way, "But she could be a sleeper. I suppose we gotta consider that as well."
Lucien pointed, an Ah ha! look on his face. He started to say something, but Bryce held up a hand to stop him. The portly butler's accusations had apparently caused enough distress in his master's son.
I opened my mouth to speak and only stammered. I decided to play dumb to see if what I imagined was reality in this place and time. "What's a sleeper?" I asked, mostly to Pandora since the girl was still drilling holes in me with her squinty little eyes.
Wilco said, "Why the hell would T.W. hire a sleeper agent? Weren't you about to sign over the Atlantic claim?"
"He was," Lucien chimed in, "But the contract kept financial control of the lands with Landry Holdings in exchange for open sea passage to the European Consolidation and Confederate business ventures overseas. Without the signature, Thorne can claim default and the Empire can squat on the land, the whole kit and caboodle. We will still maintain control on the sea lanes, but they're worthless compared to what's below them. There are dozens of passages to the E of C."
Bryce gave Lucien a look. He nodded slightly, showing signs that he was finally understanding what the butler had been trying to tell him all this time. The look also said, It's too late now, my friend. We have to go with what we got.
"The Empire can go squat, all right," Pandora sneered, again, still staring at me as if in a daydream now. She dug a dirty finger between two of her teeth trying to pick free a piece of tobacco.
I looked down at my vest again, pulled at the collar of my ruffled shirt. The voice, Pandora’s voice, seemed to come from between my ears rather than across the room.
Where'd you get them marks on your back?
"What?"
Thinking I was responding to the girl's voice instead of the one in my head, Bryce looked at me. "Ignore her, Alice. Pandora has a long-standing hatred for the Empire. It's unhealthy and gets her into too many scraps with Imperial pilots."
"As do we all," Lucien said with a dramatic shake of his fist, "But I doubt the Empire had anything to do with..."
His voice trailed off as I thought back to the voice in my head that wasn't mine.
That's right. It's me, Pandora.
I looked at her as she said her name. Her lips weren't moving. "How—?"
Sssh! Don't ask stupid questions. Just answer in yer head. I can hear ya, for Pete's sake! How'd you get them marks on your back?
Bryce, Lucien and Wilco debated amongst themselves about me and where I came from, and though I tried to listen, my mind was sucked into an echo chamber where all I could hear was Pandora's voice in my head. I had no time to comprehend it. And, I had no idea what she was talking about.
I mouthed the words, “What marks?”
Just think it. Don't say it. And don't ask questions, Alice—or whatever the hell your name is. You mean to tell me you don't even remember gettin' them?
I sat up, arching my back and reached behind me, pretending to scratch my back as I untucked the gusseted shirt and felt around. There they were, three small bumps, like braille, forming a straight line over my left kidney. I frowned. They were sore to the touch, raw and hot like a sunburn feels. Pandora must have peeked when I was getting dressed.
How bad are they? They hurt, I thought to her. What are they?
So you don't know? Pandora asked in my mind. Her 'voice' was more tender, almost sad. I looked at her and saw her watching me, her legs crossed at the knee, her hands folded on top of them with the fingers of her left hand crossed.
Should I? I swear, I don't know anything about any of this. How would I know how I hurt my back? Maybe it's how I lost my memory! If I was—
You didn't hurt your back. That was done to you.
But—
Sorry.
"Alice?" Bryce was gently shaking my shoulder. He, Lucien and Wilco were adding to Pandora's stares at me.
"Hmm?" I forced myself away from the girl's eyes. "I'm sorry, Bryce. What—?"
Concern flashed Bryce's features for only an instant. "Wilco wondered if you'd had any bad dreams that you recall, any odd feelings or illness."
I shook my head slightly, keeping my eyes off Pandora now and glancing nervously around the room instead. "Sorry, Bryce. No. No, I don't remember any dreams or anything...." I arched my back again and gently touched the sore spot I hadn't realized was there, and even though he and Lucien both saw me naked, neither one had the chance to see my bare back. "But I do—"
Pandora sat up straight. "She coulda been dropped off!"
Everyone looked at her. I closed my mouth. Her sudden shout was meant t
o silence me before I mentioned the sores on my back. But why?
"Well, yes, that is a possibility as well," Lucien bumbled, "but that only begs more questions. Who? Then why? And how could they have performed such an act without being seen?"
Wilco muttered, "Curious."
It was then that my stomach grumbled noisily and I felt my first strong pangs of hunger. It was loud enough for the now-quiet room to pick up on. I could feel the heat in my face as a blushed and pressed my palm into my stomach.
"Oh dear," Bryce frowned. "We never really considered how long Alice must've gone without food." He turned to me and offered a smile, "We should get you somethin' to eat, my dear."
I started to nod as Pandora hopped down from the desk and patted Wilco on the knee. Wilco said, "There's a sweetshop just up the landing. They got sandwiches and soups there too."
Lucien eyed the kettle and pointed to it as Wilco climbed down off the desk. "No tea?"
The little old man winked at the butler and held his hands out, palms up. "I like the appearances, but don't trust the water ‘round ‘ere."
"Oh," Lucien twitched his mustache and got up to join Bryce and I as we stood. "So, the sweetshop then? We could get some tea, perhaps find a scrap for Alice? Find some tasty enjoyment this evening."
Pandora pursed her lips and made a rude sound in Lucien's direction. The butler shot her a glance before turning to Bryce, then she stuck her tongue out at him when he looked away.
Bryce pulled a pocket watch from his uniform pocket and looked at the time. "It's half past now. What time does the next bridge charge up?"
Wilco said, "Half hour. May be enough time to feed yer girl there and get up to the platform. Pandy and I can run ahead and meet ya there. I'll have documents for her to use, mark her as a haberdasher's assistant."
Bryce nodded with an air of authority. "All right, then. We'll catch up with y'all at the station."
"Wait," I said just as we all started to move. Everyone looked at me. Pandora raised an eyebrow suspiciously. She looked like she wanted to hit me. "I want to talk to Pandora first. Alone."
Bryce nodded though his brow furrowed slightly with an unasked question. Lucien and Wilco exchanged glances before looking at me, then her.
“Girl stuff,” I quickly added. I figured it was the perfect ploy since she and I were the only girls in the group.
"No," Pandora smirked. "Gotta get to my bird." Then she turned and bolted out the back door with Wilco on her heels.
I shouted in my mind, No! You have to help me! What does it mean? What happened? If you know something—
No! Nevermind. It's nothin'. You probably fell or something.
That's not true and you know it! Why are you afraid?
Because, Alice, I'm sorry. But you ain't never goin' home.
Wha—?
Never.
CHAPTER 8, “Sparks over Philadelphia”
The Tesla Bridge stood as a network of towers stretched around the world, each topped with a copper cone piercing the lowest clouds at over 2,000 feet. An electrical field pulsed from tower to tower, strong enough to propel a metal skinned SkyTrain thousands of miles across the upper atmosphere. A trip that would take hours, or even days by airship, took only minutes by SkyTrain.
Passengers for the 8 p.m. SkyTrain out of Philadelphia lined the iron walkways outside the Philadelphia Tesla Depot on the 109th floor of the United Electric building downtown. Most were dressed opulently in the styles of those who could afford transit on a SkyTrain though there were many in middle class attire who joined them as well, having scrimped and saved to take that family vacation or overseas transit in luxury.
For Bryce, Alice and Lucien, the SkyTrain was the most sensible option considering the distance they had to travel, and Bryce's growing suspicion that they may be followed. Since SkyTrains traveled on invisible "tracks" thousands of feet above ground, it would be relatively impossible for anyone to follow them unless they were on the train with them. That's why Bryce left Alice and Lucien in the sweetshop while he ran on ahead to meet Wilco and Pandora.
Perek Grubbs, of course, knew all of this. The spy network he had established through Frederick Denk's goon squad paid off in spades. A man outside the sweetshop signaled another on a balcony who sent a wireless message to Grubbs' wrist wireless.
"Landry was alone?"
"Correct. Seemed to be in a hurry," the voice crackled from Grubbs' wrist.
"What about the Property with the servant?" Grubbs got all he could from the Corporal at the Landing, the fact that Landry reported he was traveling with Property he'd won in a wager. But Grubbs knew that was a lie because Thorne had been observing Bryce since his arrival in New Yorke yesterday. There wasn't time for a gambling party. So, the mystery was even larger than he'd suspected, and he saw this as an opportunity to make his move. Grubbs also knew that Landry Holdings was sitting on something big in the North Atlantic, something his bosses at Thorne & Wolfe wanted, something worth protecting. So why would Bryce Landry just give it up?
"Property and servant are both still in the restaurant called Spoilery, Mr. Grubbs."
"Good work. Let me know if they move."
"Yessir."
"You and Willis move to the boarding platform in ten minutes. Wait for my orders before taking Landry or his party."
"Yessir, Mr. Grubbs."
Making sure the .38 pistol was snug in the front of his trousers, Grubbs unbuttoned his jacket and made his way down the suspended alley toward Spoilery''s back door. The rain let up as the night settled in. Gas lamps hissed and buzzed over his head as his feet clanked along on the walkway high over the back streets of Philadelphia.
~~~~~~~
"Is it scary?" Alice asked Lucien after swallowing another bite of her ham and tomato on croissant sandwich. They had taken a small table near the back of the establishment, between the kitchen and the small corridor to the bathrooms and fire escape. The front of the sweetshop included a dozen or so tables and booths, all decorated and trimmed in wine-colored leather and chrome. Four girls worked behind Spoilery's bar and, Alice noted, all wore long dresses and sleeves despite the heat of the kitchen. They kept their hair tucked up under bonnets.
A small empty plate with a few scone crumbs and a teacup sat before the butler. Lucien, his attention focused on the handful of patrons in the shop, tugged at his mustache as he raised an eyebrow. "Not at all, my dear. A SkyTrain is like a freight on the ground, except quiet as a whisper." He stifled a yawn and blinked away watery eyes. "Be nice to get some sleep after the day we've had."
Alice nodded and took another bite of her sandwich. Lucien sipped his tea.
After a moment, the butler glanced to Alice once or twice before smoothing the thin crop of hair on his head and turned to her (his bowler sat appropriately on the coat rack attached to their booth). "Alice," he started, pausing to get her attention. His voice was mild, tentative.
"Yes, Lucien?"
"I... I wanted to apologize for... before." He looked down, apparently flustered and embarrassed. “It was ungentlemanly of me, and quite presumptuous.”
Alice set down her coffee and rested her hands in her lap, letting him speak his mind however long it took.
"I honestly didn't want to kill you. I... It's just that I can't abide by witches and black magicians."
Alice nodded but said nothing.
Lucien blinked, again clearing his watery eyes, only this time Alice knew they weren't caused by a stifled yawn. "My parents... It was back in the Kingdom before I came to serve Lord Landry and the Confederacy. They left the tube late one night after a show." He cracked a blinking smile remembering something fondly. "They enjoyed evening shows, my father an immense fan of the cinemas." He swallowed hard and quickly added, "They were set upon by ghouls. Literally torn limb from limb... so the London Times said."
"Ghouls?"
The butler nodded slightly. "Male witches, abominations of Imperial scientists. Unlike female witches, who can move freely amon
gst us undetected except by Witchtellers like Mr. Rink, ghouls were overcome by the power they could wield and it ate them alive, turning inward and corrupting them physically, mentally and...” He took a deep breath. “Well," he looked down at his slightly trembling hand. He steadied it by resting his other hand on it. "Abominations. That's all."
Alice wondered on what she'd learned up until this point. "But if the Empire here created ghouls and witches, how did they get to Britain?"
Trying to smile, Lucien explained, "Stowing away in the darkness of freight ships, mostly. Others, I'm sure, were sold as living biological weapons to Imperial counterparts in Eastern Europe.”
Alice frowned sadly and reached across the small table to rest her hand on his wrist. She looked at him with as much understanding as she could considering how alien this world was to her. "I'm sorry," she offered.
Lucien patted her hand. "No, my girl. I am. You are nothing like those creatures. Witches serve only evil and corporations of the Empire. You are simply a lost soul, a gentle girl with no home nor direction. Though, I assure you that is only temporary."
“What if I'm a … sleeper?”
He raised a bushy eyebrow, pushed up his spectacles. “Do you believe you're a sleeper agent, Alice?”
Alice started to shake her head, to say something, then stopped and shrugged.
“If you were, I'm sure we would have determined it by now,” He smiled, “And I doubt you can accuse an agent without triggering their protocols if you take my meaning.”
It was Alice's turn to cast her eyes down, but Lucien smiled and leaned in. "Captain Bryce Landry is a good man, Alice. If you have a home and kin, he will find them."
“I wanted to ask you,” she whispered after a silence passed between them. “Those contracts you keep mentioning, the ones I prevented Bryce from signing? What are they?”
Lucien twitched his mustache and rolled his eyes tiredly. “Bryce's father, the Lord Jefferson Landry, is keen on some underwater property that holds great significance for the future of the nation—actually, all nations, I would presume.”