by Michele Ryan
Again, she pushed her hair out of her eyes so she could see. Instead of the rain slowing down, it seemed the closer she got to the heart of London, the harder it fell.
The city had gone through a transformation in the last year. Rumor, none of it verifiable, said someone stopped inhuman beings, had sent a loa back to the underworld and stopped a vampire. Levi had believed it. Mark my words, Miss White. They are true.
For days afterwards, Raycraft had paced the abandoned warehouse, muttering to himself about his best creation getting away, and how he’d make one finer. More compliant. It wouldn’t be Emmitt though, and that stuck in his craw too. If she had to remember when his obsession with Emmitt began, she couldn’t place her finger on a single defining episode.
In the beginning, when the first spark of reanimated life filled her, Libbie had never had an independent thought, never questioned why he’d seemed so intent on finding an inferior monster when he had her. She agreed with Levi ad nauseam on various topics. But, the whole story of Emmitt, the brain of a genius combined with the bodies of serial killers and thrashers. Brawlers—men who didn’t give a lick as to what they did, so long as they were in a good fight—didn’t sit right with her.
The moment she’d gone with her intuition over Levi’s word, she realized she’d become autonomous. Self-aware. It sounded ridiculous when she thought of those first few weeks. Despite her few mechanical parts, she was a human being for bloody hell’s sake, not an automaton. So she took it upon herself to find out what Raycraft was up to, and the reality of her situation shocked her.
The moment Raycraft walked out of the door, she dug through his files and read everything he’d written about his experiments. The only thing he’d done wrong had been to give her and Emmitt the capability of independent thought, even if they hadn’t realized it when they’d been reborn.
It was how she’d stumbled upon the newest blueprints for another monster. And why she ran through the streets of London like a daft woman.
“Where are you going?” A hand snatched at her elbow, and she screamed.
Libbie wrenched herself from the person’s grasp and shuffled through the group of men who’d stepped from the gentlemen’s club. A shiver of dread slid down her spine, chilling her to the point of pain. She’d never experienced anything of the sort. Surely, it’d been a reaction to her need to flee? Not the fact she’d been soaked to the bone and frightened.
Each step she took now, her body grew tired. Her legs were barely capable of moving. Her mind muddled. She couldn’t stop, not yet. Not till she reached her destination. A safe spot within a city of monsters—ordinary people were apt to do whatever they pleased, whenever they pleased for the jolly of it. Those who went bump in the night stayed hidden, and that was where she needed to be.
The gas lantern posts revealing her path grew dark as a crew of men trudged along, putting them out. The church bells tolled, nine times. The safe time for being out had long since passed, tossing her into an almost pitch-black city. Her saving grace had been the candles and kerosene lamps illuminating different windows, but even those were few and far between.
She couldn’t stop though, Libbie had to keep going. Keep searching for her safe place. Deep in thought, she didn’t see the small hole in the cobblestone, due to the puddle. She hadn’t meant to step directly into it, more hoping she’d leap over it, but her body wouldn’t comply.
The heel of her shoe caught, and she was sent sprawling. The cold water seeped into her clothes, chilling her more. Her knees burned, and her hand hurt. She twisted her ankle on the way down and putting weight on it sent ragged agony shooting through her. Libbie pushed herself up—she couldn’t lay in the muck. If she were caught, Levi would remove the sprocket and wheels—the cogs and springs that turned continuously to give her life.
Standing, she yelped, biting her knuckle to squelch the sound emanating from her. Slowly she hobbled toward the bright light in front of her. Several torches lit up the area in front of a rather large manor. Each step she took had pain radiating through her. She’d never experienced anything of the sort before. It was nothing like her reanimation, yet equally awful.
She stumbled and cried the remaining distance, encouraging herself to keep going and not stop until she made it to the door and sought refuge inside. Someone would have to see the condition she was in and take pity on her. The gate in front of the house opened with ease, and she followed the stone path to the large ornate door. She recognized the architecture and style, but with the aching burn building in her joint, she took no time to appreciate it.
Libbie wrapped her slim fingers around the brass knocker and gave it a couple of heavy taps, praying someone would hear it over the storm. When no one showed interest, she tried again. By the third time, a wicked shiver consumed her body. Sleep pushed at the corners of her mind, making it so she couldn’t concentrate.
The blast of warm air when the door opened consumed her. A little bit of comfort had been all her brain needed to shut down. The figures in front of her became hazy balls. Their voices were mumbled, to the point she couldn’t make a distinction between one collective voice or an individual. Libbie swayed on her feet. Her eyes fluttered shut, and, though she tried hard, they wouldn’t open.
“He—” A strange buzzing filled her ears and then nothing. Darkness encroached on her vision, stealing her ability to speak, or control her body. In the next second, there was nothing, and she welcomed the blissful void.
Author Bios
TL Reeve, a multi-published/International Bestselling author, was born out of a love of family and a bond that became unbreakable. Living in Alabama, TL misses Los Angeles, and will one day return to the beaches of Southern California to ride the waves at Huntington Beach. When not writing something hot and sexy, TL can be found curled up with a good book or working on homework with a cute little pixie.
Michele Ryan is a multi-published/International Bestselling author. She has embraced her creative passion and co-authored several books with fellow author and best friend TL Reeve and has also published two solo novellas. She is a lifelong resident of the state of New Jersey, along with her husband and three children, whom she refers to as her hobbits. When Michele is not plotting or writing, she can be found either volunteering at her children’s school or reading.