The Clockwork Menace

by Bec McMaster

  "It's something we'll consider," Perry told her. "If anything strikes your attention as important, I'd appreciate it if you let us know. Sometimes the most random snippets of conversation can break a case."

  "Of course." Miss Radcliffe nodded earnestly.

  "Excuse me, ladies."

  They both looked up.

  Arthur Millington tipped his head to them, "Miss Radcliffe. Hope you're feeling a mite better."

  Miss Radcliffe smiled. "Thank you, Arthur. I'm much recovered."

  "Might I have a word, then? It's about the lighting during the third act?" Impatience made him shift under their scrutiny.

  "Of course." Miss Radcliffe patted her hair into place, then handed Perry back her handkerchief. "If I think of anything I shall come directly to see you."

  They hurried onto the stage, where several other actresses were gathered with Mr. Fotherham.

  Perry slipped a small brass piece out of her pocket, and slipped it into her ear. Fitz, one of the other Nighthawks, had designed the aural communicators for Nighthawks who might have to work alone, and Perry and Garrett often used them. Within the range of the theatre, they'd be able to communicate, without anyone else hearing.

  If Garrett had his turned on.

  Perry fiddled with the frequency. She needed to find Garrett. This new information–

  A scream tore through the theatre.

  Perry spun toward the stage. Miss Radcliffe! She started sprinting, her wrist pistols spinning into her hands, as she fought her way through the sudden flurry of actresses that scattered toward the backstage and perceived safety. It was like fighting her way through a flock of startled chickens.

  Gun fire barked. Perry grabbed a young woman in a ball gown and jerked her behind the nearest prop - an enormous set piece that was crafted to resemble a ballroom in some fancy Echelon manor. "Stay down!"

  More screams lit the auditorium.

  "Stay back, you beast!" A man yelled.

  Perry crouched behind the curtains, twitching them aside in order to see. From the other side of the stage, she saw Garrett duck behind a wardrobe prop, his pistol in hand. Their eyes met and Perry nodded, feeling relief.

  Miss Radcliffe was on her knees, with Arthur Millington and a couple of other stagehands forming a protective circle around her. Fotherham staggered off the stage and fell, as something pushed past him.

  The huge, lumbering form roared incoherently, and drove toward the edge of the stage near where she hid. Perry stepped forward, sighting along both barrels of her wrist pistols. A hideous face swam into view, frightened eyes locking on her and yet, not seeing her. Perry's breath eased out, the world narrowing to the man's massive chest, and the sensation of her fingers easing over the triggers. At the last minute she jerked the pistols up, and he rushed past her. Hell. That was Lovecraft–

  "Don't shoot!" she yelled, taking off after him. Leaping off the stage, she spun her pistols back into the sheaths at her wrists and started after him.

  "Perry!" Garrett's voice echoed, then a curse as he realized she had no intentions of stopping.

  Lovecraft lurched toward the side door, hitting it with his shoulder. Wood splintered, and he bellowed in rage, then vanished into the blinding sphere of afternoon light.

  Perry winced at the brightness - her sensitive eyes preferred night - and leapt through the hole he'd created. Her shoulder clipped a startled passer-by in a bowler hat and she spun off balance, collected herself on the base of a gas lamp, then kept going across the road as Lovecraft smashed a man off a monocycle.

  Horns blared as an omnibus steered desperately around her. Perry leapt up onto the seat of a steam-carriage to the startled cry of the driver, her boot hitting the top of the carriage as she slid over the polished walnut exterior and dropped off the other side. Shock ran up her calves as she landed, and she only just managed to leap off the road as a carriage hurtled down upon her.

  Ahead of her Lovecraft vanished around the corner, elbowing people out of the way. He was shockingly fast, but so too was she.

  Perry went after him, ignoring the shouts behind her. He pounded through an abandoned church cemetery, long neglected, and she made up time by hurdling the iron fence, and reaching out to snatch at his sleeve as he thundered across another road.

  With a snarl he threw her off, and slammed through a pair of gates into a park. A squirrel tore up the nearest tree in fright, and people looked up in shock from their picnic rugs, scrambling in a mad rush to get out of the way. There was a cricket match in progress among a flock of young schoolboys, and a gentleman in a top hat snatched a boy up under each arm, as she and Lovecraft drove straight through the middle of it.

  Perry made one last-ditch effort.

  "Stop!" She threw herself into a tackle, dragging him down to the grass.

  A blow stung her ears, and she rolled over his shoulder in a tangle of arms and legs, until she came up against a tree. Lovecraft staggered to his feet, and drew back his boot as if to kick her in the face.

  "Lovecraft!" She held up a hand. "I'm your friend, remember? It's Perry. From Hobbs' shop!"

  Recognition dawned. "Nurly," he said.

  "Yes," she let out a breath of relief, not daring to move. "I'm trying to find Nelly. To help her. Why did you come to the theatre?"

  "Nurly!"

  "Nelly's not there, remember? She's gone away. I have to find her."

  Wringing at his cap, he rocked back and forth, wide eyes frightened as he watched people running away from them. "Gone. Nurly gone. Jerm gone."

  "James?" she asked. "James is gone?"

  He looked panicked. Perry rolled onto her hands and knees. What was he trying to say? "I can help you," she said. "You can't find James or Nelly, can you? Is that why you came to the theatre?"

  "Jerm hurt. Jerm gone."

  Her breath caught in the back of her throat. "That's right. Did you see the man who hurt James?"

  Tortured eyes met her own. Lovecraft tore at his cap, as though to hide behind it, but he nodded.

  "Was it someone at the theatre?" she asked breathlessly. "Is that why you came there?"

  Whistles screamed as the local constabulary came on the scene. Lovecraft cupped his hands over his specially-designed earmuffs, wincing. Whatever she did, she would have to do it quickly. She could see they all had pistols.

  Hell and blazes. She needed time to talk to him. Lovecraft had witnessed Hobbs' murder - he knew who'd done it.

  But if he stayed here... Where people didn't understand him...

  "Go," she said, meeting his gaze, and imploring him. If they caught him, they wouldn't hesitate to shoot. Not with his appearance. People were always frightened of what they didn't understand, and Lovecraft was like a child trapped in a man's body. He wouldn't know how to appear unthreatening. "You need to run! Go! They'll hurt you! Go home! I'll find you!"

  Tears wet his eyes, then the big man turned, and started running. The pair of constables bolted past her, and Perry took her time rolling to her feet, brushing the grass off.

  Garrett caught up to her, grinding to a breathless halt. "Are you all right?"

  Perry brushed a couple of leaves off her shoulder. "I'm fine. How is everyone at the theatre?"

  "Shaken up, but not harmed. What the hell was that? Why the hell didn't you shoot?"

  Perry wet her lips. "That was Lovecraft."

  Garrett cut her a look. "Hobbs' adopted... project?"

  "He's not a project," she said sharply.

  "Did he hurt you?" He brushed grass off her arms, cupping her shoulders and turning her around to examine her. As she spun back the other way, he caught her chin, and tipped her face up, heat flaring through his blue eyes. "He hit you. You're bruised."

  "It'll fade. I did tackle him, after all. He never meant to hurt me–"

  "Bloody hell, Perry. It didn't look like that. You said he wasn't a threat!"

  "He wasn't. At least, I didn't gain that impression. He was frightened of me–"

  "I know your
instincts are good," he said, in a hard tone, "but sometimes you're wrong."

  "And sometimes you're a fool!" She snapped, turning back to the theatre.

  He caught her arm. "You didn't see what happened, Perry! He went straight for Miss Radcliffe! Millington barely managed to push her out of the way when Lovecraft attacked. He knocked down three men, and broke another's arm. You think that's not threatening?"

  "Miss Radcliffe?" she murmured, slamming to a halt. "Did he attack her?"

  "Tried to."

  They stared at each other.

  Perry's mind raced. Was she correct? Did Lovecraft come to the theatre to get revenge on the person who'd shot Hobbs? Or had he not truly understood what she'd been trying to ask?

  Was it Miss Radcliffe?

  She too had motive. A prime new role as lead actress, and the only proof that Rommell had a hand in the disappearance, had come directly from her pretty lips.

  Had that entire story earlier been something that the actress had made up? A way to cast suspicion on the lord? After all, Miss Radcliffe was an actress. Maybe the tears had been feigned?

  Perry’s gut twisted in doubt. If it was a lie, then the woman was one hell of an actress. Perry could have sworn those tears had been real, but how could she tell Garrett that? He already thought her hare-brained, for thinking that Lovecraft wasn't a threat to her. If she tried to tell him her suspicions about Miss Radcliffe - after all of their previous arguments - he'd no doubt think Perry was trying to stir trouble again.

  "Can you track him by scent?" Garrett asked. He knew how good her senses were.

  Perry hesitated - then slowly shook her head. "No. I can't smell anything."

  Which was a lie, but if she were going to talk to Lovecraft then she needed to do it alone. He would be too frightened of anyone else, and she knew Garrett didn't believe her.

  "Let's get back to the theatre," she said. "And see how Miss Radcliffe is faring."

  And afterwards, she'd see if she could pick up the scent trail that she could sense.

  The theatre was bedlam.

  Fear and excitement tainted the air, and it seemed the entire acting troupe had emerged from whichever little hole in the theatre belonged to them, to see what all of the fuss was about. The room was abuzz with talk that the pursuit had lost Lovecraft, as he circled back around near the theatre.

  He could be anywhere nearby. Perry's fingers twitched as everyone whispered about it.

  Lord Rommell was furious. "You knew this creature?" he demanded, stepping forward just enough to make her uncomfortable.

  Perry found her back against the theatre wall. "I encountered him yesterday. He... he's some kind of anomaly but I don't believe he meant any harm–"

  "Perhaps you shouldn't form such assumptions," Rommell replied. "Without an actual basis to your theory besides feminine intuition." He actually turned his back on her, focusing on Garrett. "I want a search mounted. I want this... this creature found. It's quite evident he has something to do with Nelly's disappearance, and this incompetence is not what I'm paying the Guild for. If I hadn't stepped in when I did, it would have torn poor Miss Radcliffe to pieces!"

  "My lord." Garrett's lips thinned. "Of course we plan to mount a search." Those blue eyes locked on her. He'd made it clear he thought the same way Rommell did, about Lovecraft. "I'll send for reinforcements from the Guild. We'll track him down."

  Perry looked away. It was bad enough for Rommell to be questioning her competence, but Garrett hadn't even made one sound of protest. He'd always backed her when people challenged her in the past, and something ached in her chest that he didn't this time.

  Was she wrong? Was Lovecraft a threat to her?

  She couldn't even fathom it. He seemed so childlike to her, more frightened of the world than it was of him - which was a considerable amount indeed. He had the size and capacity to do great violence, but she just couldn't see it being intentional, no matter what had occurred here earlier. He seemed to react only out of fear and pain.

  Garrett offered his arm to Miss Radcliffe, who was frightfully pale. "Perhaps you'll allow me to see you home. You look like you could do with a rest?"

  Perry's muscles locked tight, anticipation flaring. It would be the perfect opportunity to follow up on Lovecraft's scent alone.

  "That's quite generous, Reed," Rommell broke in, "but I do believe you have work to see to. I'll escort Eliza home in my carriage." He pasted on a smile and stepped toward the actress. "Come, my dear."

  "Thank you," Miss Radcliffe looked between the men. "But I don't believe I should leave, not just yet. We have a show to perform in a few hours." Sucking in a shuddery breath, she stepped away from Rommell. "I feel utterly safe with the Nighthawk's here. I'm certain they'll find the culprit - and whatever has happened to poor Nelly."

  Rommell harrumphed under his breath, but he patted her gloved hand. "Such bravery, my dear. Don't you let any of this bother you. I'll summon some of my guards to the theatre to ensure your safety, and tonight shall be another triumph."

  With that he was gone. Miss Radcliffe gave them both a weak smile. "I should begin to get dressed. If you'll excuse me?"

  Perry watched her go. It was interesting that she recovered so quickly. Most young ladies would have suffered a fainting fit.

  Or was that simply suspicion flavouring her thoughts?

  Garrett let out a frustrated sigh, as most of the acting troupe broke away to prepare themselves for the play, led by Miss Radcliffe's example. It left them alone together.

  "You believe me, don't you?" Perry said into the softening darkness of the stage. "I know what a threat looks like."

  Garrett raked a hand through his coppery hair. He stared out over the empty theatre. "Perhaps you misconstrued Lovecraft's intentions. It happens."

  Not to me. She felt numb though, all hollow inside. Garrett didn't believe her. And why should he? She had no proof. Nothing to say that the poor creature had benevolent intentions other than her intuition, which Rommell had summarily dismissed.

  That made her burn with fury. Years of working cases, and men were still looking down their noses at her. "Perhaps you shouldn't believe everything Rommell says," she snapped. "Considering that he lied about Nelly being his mistress."

  Garrett caught her arm as she turned to go. "What?"

  "According to Miss Radcliffe, Nelly had a beau who might have been named Nick, or something similar, and that she refused Rommell's suit. Unless she’s lying, I'm going to assume, with my feminine intuition, that Rommell is therefore a suspect. I could be wrong. Maybe I should rely on your superior instincts as a man?"

  "Don't take that tone with me," he warned. "I'm not the one that doesn't trust your instincts."

  "Truly?" She looked up at him. "Because it feels like you did."

  They stared at each other.

  "I know," he said carefully, "that I wasn't there when you encountered the creature before."

  "His name is Lovecraft."

  "Fine, Lovecraft." A hint of snarl coated his words. "But I saw what happened today. I saw that thing come straight at us. It threatened Miss Radcliffe, then turned on Millington and Rommell, Perry. It had murder in its eyes and you know it."

  "Rommell inspires such thoughts in several of us, then. I'm having trouble keeping my knives sheathed whenever he opens his mouth."

  "Rommell is of the Echelon. He could cause trouble for us very easily."

  "You don't think I know that? How foolish do you consider me?"

  "I'm just saying... perhaps you should let me handle him? Your emotions are involved, and while I don't like the man, I can restrain my temper around him. As for Lovecraft, don't underestimate him." He stared her in the eyes. "Promise me you'll watch your back tonight, when we mount this search."

  "You're going to bring in more Nighthawks?"

  He gave a clipped nod. "Unfortunately, we do need to do something to appease Rommell. He has the power to remove both of us from the case, if need be."

 
"Which would be very convenient if he had something to do with Nelly's disappearance," she said darkly. "Either Rommell or Miss Radcliffe is lying. I'm not certain which. They both have motive in this case."

  "But why would Miss Radcliffe shoot Hobbs, if she were involved?" He said quickly.

  Too quickly.

  And Perry didn't have the answers to that. "I don't know. I just thought I should tell you. And why would Rommell do such a thing either? Neither of them would have come into Hobbs' sphere, unless he came to the theatre. It just seems an odd thing for either of them to lie about, but one of them must be."

  A frown twisted Garrett’s brow and he slid his hands into his pockets. "Something to look into then. And the Webley pistol is small enough to be operated by a woman."

  The earlier argument hovered in the air, but at least he was taking her suspicions seriously. Perry looked away. "Perhaps you should go and see if you can organise a squad of Nighthawks?"

  "And what do you intend to do?"

  "I'll stay here," she said. "Make sure that the monster doesn't return."

  "Perry–"

  "I can't get into trouble that way, can I? Perhaps when you come back you can tell me what I should do next? Since my intuition is so obviously skewed today."

  He growled under his breath. "Maybe you should stay here and wait for me. I don't know that it's your intuition that is skewed - or perhaps your common sense - but we'll discuss that when I return."

  8

  Deep backstage, Perry knelt, touching her fingers to a patch of blood on the floor. The moment Garrett had left to call for reinforcements, she'd managed to pick up the scent trail in the park, and had followed it on a circuitous route back to the theatre. Now, she was no closer to finding Lovecraft, but she had the dawning suspicion that he'd returned to the scene of the crime, and was somewhere deep in the bowels of the monstrous building.