Answering the Call

by M J Moores

  She raised her arm in fourth position for all to see.

  Bennett snapped his focus down to the chalked X on the floor between them.

  Louisa shook the sphere and hurtled it at the floor.

  An explosion cracked the air.

  Men and women jumped back, crushing into one another but not leaving. No one fainted either. This crowd had mettle. Fine dust particles, not a full batch, floated innocuously inside the circle’s perimeter. A large scorch mark joined the multitude of others that shadowed the wooden floor, different from the licks of flame-shadow made only three days ago.

  Applause and cheers broke out.

  Louisa’s heart soared as she looked from Master Bennett to the crowd. That is, until a stormy set of dark eyes stabbed at her from the hall beyond the open door.

  Courtright.

  Ice shot through Louisa’s veins. She looked back at Bennett, but he was oblivious to the situation. He had a demonstration to run. Bennett waved her toward the crowd. She removed another sphere from her apron and nestled it in her palm. Louisa approached those closest to the edge of the demonstration zone and showed off the dispersal unit.

  Bennett described the delicate balance of having a china-like orb made of fine glass filaments with strength enough not to break and yet able to encourage a significant static-electric charge. He advised onlookers not to hold it but to feel free to tap it with a finger or fan to test its stability and transportability.

  “It’s all about the charge. Once these spheres are released into clouds holding the potential for rain, the air density and temperature will act as the catalyst to shatter the housing. The inner electric charge will annihilate the orb, disperse the seeding particles, and encourage the formation of ice nuclei,” he explained.

  As Louisa obliged each interested party with a view of the sample, the back of her neck continued to tingle. She couldn’t see Courtright but knew the woman was there. Lying in wait.

  I have to get out of here. Bennett will be too busy sealing funding deals to bother placating his head housekeeper. She had to disappear to give the master enough time to clarify things with Courtright—if he even still wanted her around.

  After showing the last group the sample unit, Louisa turned to replace the sphere on the worktable. Across the demonstration space, Master Bennett stared at her, wearing a most peculiar expression. She hesitated.

  What is going through his mind? Oh, blast. I ruined everything.

  He shook himself and then addressed the crowd. “I’d now like to invite you all downstairs to chat about the future of cloud seeding and bringing an end to this frightful drought.”

  Louisa slipped past Bennett and placed the sphere on the table, but she caught him moving toward her instead of following his guests.

  It’s this gum outfit. She blushed again for her severe error in judgment. An assistant didn’t wear a lace gown to a demonstration. Louisa had risked making him a laughingstock.

  She sashayed into the crowd before he could say anything and let them sweep her back to the main floor. But she wasn’t out of danger. A tall, broad shadow played at the edges of the crowd following her every move.

  Louisa tango-stepped toward the door. She halted behind Marion as a gentleman walked in and passed her his driving gear. Without looking, Marion handed them to Louisa to take care of. Louisa glanced over her shoulder. Bennett searched the crowd as he spoke to a couple walking down the stairs, and Courtright materialized from the entry to the lounge.

  Their gazes locked.

  Louisa ducked and bolted out the door.

  Night in the City

  N ot used to the heel height of her mother’s old boots, Louisa stumbled over her own feet in her rush to be anywhere but there. Not until she turned onto Manor Street did she slow down, and only because the lamplighter hadn’t arrived yet.

  An awkward weight dragged at her arm. She breathed a deep, fortifying inhalation and looked down—the gentleman’s driving attire. Louisa glanced over her shoulder. The master’s house was long gone.

  She sighed.

  I’ll have to return it tomorrow and receive notice. She bit her lip. From maid to inventor’s assistant to out on the street in two days. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I do this? I’m not my mother! Her body quaked as she fought off a wave of tears and exhaustion.

  The dark-brown leather duster draped like silk over her arm. Soft folds and contours told her the man could certainly afford to help fund Master Bennett’s projects—if she hadn’t obliterated his chances.

  A slight breeze raised goose flesh over her bare arms. Louisa scrunched the fine leather in her fist, then shrugged her shoulders and put on the coat, placing the goggles in a side pocket. The hem fell just to the tops of her boots, warming her instantly.

  Worry tugged at her heart. Louisa’s shoulders slumped and her feet dragged. Without a reference, she’d be hard-pressed to find employment. Couldn’t even rely on the standing of her name and put in for a governess position. Her illegitimacy and her mother’s disgrace meant her name would only raise unwanted flags.

  She hoped the master might see to pay her wages, incomplete though they were. If Louisa could get this week’s rent in, she might at least have a few days to look through the want ads before condemning herself to a workhouse. She shuddered.

  As Louisa whisked around the corner, her borrowed lace skirts caught on a broken wrought iron rail. The distinct tearing of fabric only soured her mood more, but she ignored it. She’d only trash the dress once home, anyway.

  A garbled cry from behind her residence bounced off the close-set walls of the alley that ran beside the dwellings. Fear needled her heart as she hugged the shadows near a set of crumbling stairs. She peered into the lane. Moonlight, barely breaking between wispy clouds, set a haze over the area.

  Poor Johnny kneeled on the ground shivering, his hands protecting his head. A broad shadow raised a broken board, hitting him across the back and knocking him to all fours. Hot anger spiked through Louisa’s chest. She held back a holler. A woman’s voice, no matter how big, was still just a woman’s voice. Louisa gripped the leather coat tight. Something hard and round pushed into her thigh—something other than the pocketed goggles.

  She slipped her hand under the coat and found her work apron exactly where she’d left it. A lightness filled her chest making her dizzy. No, I daren’t.

  Johnny cried out again and whimpered. He lay flat on the filth of the ground, not moving.

  Louisa looked around: no lamplighter, no bobby, nobody.

  Nobody but her.

  She couldn’t let herself think. She pulled the driving goggles out and put them on to protect her eyes, then stepped into the mouth of the alley.

  “You’d best be leaving that boy alone,” she called, pulling her voice from the depths of her gut the way Mamma had taught her during singing lessons.

  The two attackers stood straight and turned to look at her.

  “Buzz off, ya bobtail. Mind yer own business.” They turned their backs to her, and the short one kicked Johnny.

  “I said, leave him alone.” Crisp, measured steps brought her within twenty paces of the cutpurses. Louisa kept to the shadows even as the filtered moonlight played across their faces: the tall one’s scarred heavily, the other one’s potato-like. They etched into her mind.

  The thieves moved away from Johnny. Her heart beat high in her throat before plummeting into her stomach. It took everything to keep from retching. She swallowed, twice.

  “I’d leave now if I were you,” she warned and flipped a section of the leather coat aside fumbling to reach into her apron. Blast-it. I should’ve put it in the jacket pocket. What have I gotten myself into?

  She glanced down to see why her fingers couldn’t find the right pouch. In her peripheral vision, the tall, scar-faced fellow tossed his club to Tater Face and grabbed for her. Louisa jumped back but her heel caught in a rut. She fell in slow motion. A long tear rent the air; High Tower held a fist full of bla
ck lace. She scrambled away from the length of fabric twining around her ankles, her modesty fractured. The layers of material at the top of her skirt bared her knees.

  Louisa rose, pirouetted and grabbed hold of the sphere lodged in her work apron. She pulled it free as she claimed her full height, certainty growing within her. The thin walls of glass fiber glowed with tiny sparks in the dark. The thugs drew together, ready to pounce. She shook the sphere and raised her arm. Jolts of static electricity vibrated the orb in her hand.

  “Back off!” she yelled and smashed the globe at their feet.

  The blast knocked them to the ground. She staggered and coughed on the fine particles, sparks winking out like a spent illusion. This had not been a test orb for the gala—it was set to full strength.

  Louisa knew better than to wait for the air to clear. She raced around the stunned and coughing foes, picked up the barely conscious Johnny, and took off out of the alley.

  At his door, she knocked rapidly. At the approach of footsteps, Louisa set him down at the top of the stairs, brushed his matted hair from his face, and hurried back into the shadows. His eyelids flickered but no look of recognition reflected.

  She watched from the darkness of the lower stoop as Johnny’s mother opened the door, cried out, and scooped her child into her arms. When the door slammed shut and the street fell quiet, Louisa dragged herself up to her room on waning momentum and fell onto her bed. Curling her body into a ball, she lay there and shook.

  She couldn’t sleep. Tater Face and High Tower alighted behind her eyes every time she closed them.

  The boarding house clock struck twelve before she forced herself to uncurl. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Louisa removed the goggles, headdress, and her boots. Bare arms met bare legs. She’d never see that length of lace again. The dress was ruined, the night was ruined, and so was her reputation … but she’d saved Johnny.

  Her clothes lay in a pile kicked to the corner. She finished folding the driving jacket and was about to set it on her bureau when she hesitated. Instead, Louisa placed it on the bottom of her bed and sat down at her desk. Lifting the lid to her simple writing station, she nodded and pulled out one of the last pieces of practice paper her mother had given her all those months ago. She didn’t choose the fountain pen from the nearly dry inkwell but her last piece of charcoal.

  And she sketched—a fire ignited within.

  Just Cause

  L ouisa stared at the sun-bleached black paint of the servants’ entrance on the lower level, unable to open the door. Not because she was late—though she might be if she stayed outside much longer. No, on top of everything else, she hadn’t gone to work yesterday.

  To be fair, it was her scheduled day off. However, she hadn’t been present at the end of the evening on Saturday to hear if the staff were expected regardless. Parties were messy affairs. Still, she hadn’t slept Saturday night and had her own business to take care of on Sunday. By the time Louisa even thought about work, half the day had passed.

  She’d left the leather duster and goggles at home. If she were out of a job, at the very least she might pawn them to get by a little longer.

  She knitted her fingers together, wrung out her hands, and started the motion over again.

  The door yanked open.

  Louisa’s heart jumped into her throat. Isabel’s head popped into the open space.

  “What in heaven’s name are you doing? You stand there fifteen puzzle any longer and you’ll be late.”

  Her voice propelled Louisa inside. She opened her mouth to ask about yesterday but never got the chance.

  “Hurry, now.” Isabel waved her on.

  Louisa wiped her boots on the mat and shimmied through the pantry up to the main hall. She stopped short as she turned into the foyer beyond the upper stairs. Courtright stood with her arms crossed, glaring at Louisa. Louisa’s breath caught and she nearly choked. Swallowing past the fear, she met the housekeeper’s gaze.

  Courtright pointed up the stairs, her lips pressed thin and bloodless.

  Louisa bobbed a curtsey and rushed to obey. She nearly ran headlong into the workshop, pulling herself short just inside the door frame. Master Bennett stood with his back to her, leaning over his paper-strewn desk. She fingered clippings from the want ads in the pocket of her skirts, just below her leather shop apron. Louisa blushed as she watched him move—so poised and self-assured. A portion of dark fringe dusted his forehead. He brushed the jaunty bit of hair to the side. Drawing her gaze down so as not be caught staring, she knocked lightly on the door frame.

  He frowned, still shuffling papers, but his words cut through.

  “What were you thinking, Lou?”

  Time to account for her actions. She inhaled a shaky breath. This was it. Time to start over again.

  “I mean, it worked beautifully.” He snatched up a page from one of the piles, turned, and waved it at her. “Look at these numbers. You enthralled everyone with your performance. They had to speak with me personally before leaving, and that meant convincing three times as many people to back the project.” He decimated the space between them with four strides and handed her the page.

  She glanced at the names and figures, sucking in a loud breath. I didn’t ruin the night?

  “Again, I ask, what made you think of wearing the dress? It was perfect. Insight from your time working at the Opera House?”

  Louisa looked up and locked gazes with him. How does he know about—?

  “Oh, don’t look so surprised. Isabel told me before I left to go calling yesterday morning. I knew our backers would be interested in a story. Don’t worry, I didn’t let on you cleaned the place, just worked there for a stint. You don’t mind, do you? It helped raise a few of these sums.”

  He linked arms with her and walked her over to the paper-strewn desk.

  “Today, I need to manage the transactions, so I’ll be out again. Are you able to collate these files for me? I need one per backer. And then I need you to organize a list for me.”

  “A list, sir?”

  “Yes, I wrote things down as I thought of them, in no particular order. You know, airship companies to approach for renting a zeppelin, weather balloon manufacturers, ingredient suppliers. I’ll need a master list of everything so I can contact them and get quotes. We need to set up a couple of air tests before the final demonstration at the Sky Port. Ah!” He spun around with his arms wide. “We did it!”

  Excitement lit his blue eyes and a small dimple appeared in his cheek with the widest grin Louisa had ever seen. She smiled back. Her heart fluttered.

  He returned and held both her hands in his.

  “You’ve barely said a word, my dear. Am I asking too much?” His sudden concern for her made her knees wobble.

  “No, I can take care of it. You can count on me.”

  “Can you do all this and continue making the dispersal spheres? I will be hopping this week, working to get everything to come together. Can I count on you, Lou?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Wonderful. I must head over to the bank. It’ll be opening shortly. I’ll see you this evening.” He glanced over his shoulder at her from the doorway. “You don’t mind staying late tonight? I heard they caught those thieves but there may be others. I can ask Henry to walk with you.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be here. We’ll figure it out then. Go”—she shooed him away with a smile—“get to the bank and take care of business. This will be ready when you return.”

  He gave her a wink and disappeared.

  Every nerve ending sizzled as she stared at the empty doorway trying to get her brain to catch up with what had just happened. Louisa leaned against the large desk, pausing to clear her head on her way to sit.

  I’m not fired.

  She was his full-time assistant.

  The dress had helped, not hindered.

  Courtright couldn’t touch her.

  A small disbelieving laugh bubbled out as she fell into the chair. Something crin
kled beneath her. Louisa shifted aside and pulled the paper out from under her. Margaret, her landlady, had only passed her the classifieds. Now, the headline on the front page caught her eye: “A Shadowed Phoenix Rises.”

  THE LONDON CHRONICLE

  From Thursday, September 14 to Sunday, September 17, 1876

  A SHADOWED PHOENIX RISES

  By Morrison Tweed

  London’s streets are less toxic as of Sunday afternoon. Two thieves were apprehended for the bludgeoning of a boy in the District of Clapham late Saturday evening.

  The youth’s description of his attackers was verified by an anonymous tip early Sunday morning. Detailed sketches of the men now in custody aided local bobbies as they canvassed the area looking for anyone who might know the thugs. The constabulary applaud the abilities of the individual who drew near-perfect likenesses of the men but warn everyone not to take the law into their own hands.

  When questioned about the night of the attack, the youth, Johnny Ward of Chip Street, claimed a guardian saved him. A petite woman, approximately 5’3”–5’5”, in a black cloak and short layered skirt donning a feathered mask “used lightning” to knock out his attackers before carrying him to safety. A closer look at the scene in the alley adjoining Chip Street and Cresset Street reveals a scorch mark in the shape of a large, open-winged bird and a fine layer of soot covering the immediate area.

  The criminals, referred to as Tater Face and High Tower by the anonymous sketch artist, refused to corroborate Ward’s story. However, the evidence speaks for itself. It seems London has acquired its own night guardian—a Shadow Phoenix harnessing the power of lightning.

  Louisa turned the page, and there were the two sketches she’d labored over to help remove those faces from her mind. She flipped back to the front page and gaped at the column.

  They found them. I can’t believe it. And they think I’m some kind of city guardian. She closed her eyes tight and shook her head, but the words didn’t change when she read them a second time. Her hands shook, her stomach jolted, and butterflies ruled her chest. She went from cold to hot to embarrassed in less time than it took to do a heel turn.