Chapter five
Rayne found Everett occupied in his workshop. She leaned against the doorway to watch him work. The room was cluttered with the skeletons of a thousand projects that hung from the ceiling or sat gathering dust on shelves. Everett worked at a large table that was mostly clear except for his current project. It looked like a basket with a weird disk shaped thing on top but shaped more like a screw that was flattened. Everett had his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he worked.
“Hey, Magamesa.” Everett looked up at the old childhood nickname Gregory had given him whenever he worked. It was a word from Africa that made reference to his tongue sticking out. He flashed her a grin before he went back to his work.
Rayne looked over his shoulder and asked, “What is it?”
“The flying thing that got me into trouble. It got a bit damaged when the teachers sent the students to take it down. I managed to get it back with the promise to never bring it to school again.” She wondered if he had given that promise because he didn’t think he would be going back either.
“Are you going back?” she asked, though she could probably guess the answer.
“I don’t know,” he answered distractedly, as he continued to work on his flying machine. Her brother was brilliant for him to sound so dejected broke her a little.
Rayne put her metal hand in front of his face, forcing him to stop his repairs on the flying device. “I need some maintenance. It’s making screeching noises.” He motioned to a stool.
She rested her hand on the table and asked, “Do I have to take it off?” Pulling the stool closer with the tip of her toes, she took a seat.
“Let’s see what’s wrong first.” To demonstrate she closed her fist and though it didn’t screech it certainly made a grinding sound. “Sounds like some dirt has gotten in there. Yeah, I think you’ll have to take it off.” He motioned to the other end of the workroom where she could have some privacy behind a set of freestanding shelves.
Rayne plucked at her buttons behind the screen and said, “The dragon, Victor, would probably be interested in your flying device. He certainly was fascinated by my hand.” She had to raise her voice a little to make sure he heard her on the other side of the room.
“He has probably seen better. It’s just a toy.” His voice was distracted, so he was likely finishing up with his flying machine.
“You shouldn’t put yourself down. You make wonderful creations. Without you I’d have to send for Jasmine every time my hand gave me trouble. I would be weeks without it and I’ve had enough of claws and hooks to know how superior this hand is.” Rayne unbuckled the straps holding on her hand once she had divested herself of her bodice. The hand came loose and left an imprint on the stump of her arm.
There were elaborate scars from the original injury that had turned silver over the years. They weren’t even painful anymore though she could still remember the original pain as a dull ache that never seemed to leave her bones. The hand was also superior in comfort. Her previous attachments had often rubbed her raw. They had left their own mark on her arm as well over time. Her mother had discovered an ointment that had smoothed most of those away over the years she had the brass hand.
The doctor had only taken off the part where the bone had been shattered into tiny slivers and had left the whole part, even though it wasn’t pretty. It did mean she still had her elbow which increased her agility. She placed her mechanical hand on a clear shelf and slipped her bodice back on. The buttons were difficult with one hand but for most of Rayne’s life she had to deal with the lack of the limb. The buttons were also designed for ease of use. They were on the front as well, so that wasn’t much of an issue.
She still wore her bobby uniform and it had originally been designed for men who didn’t require others to dress them nearly as much as women did. Though the trend was leaning towards more practical outfits for women as time passed. She wouldn’t be surprised to find outfits with pockets as the norm.
Once redressed she picked up her hand and came around the shelf. Everett had cleared off the table so he could work on her hand. “Do you think I could make a job of this?” He asked as he motioned for her to hand over her prosthesis.
“In a heartbeat. Is that what you’re thinking?” He shrugged and she let it drop. He took her hand and carefully took off the shielding of articulated brass. Inside the ‘bones’ of the machine were made from steel and some crystals. Everett didn’t touch those. Instead he looked at the shielding first. He used a lantern to look inside and with a swab cleaned out the inside.
Everett scowled at the dirty swab and asked, “Is that blood?”
Almost definitely. She wasn’t even sure if it came from the body they had investigated yesterday or another. “If I say yes, will you get mad?”
“No, disgusted. Why can’t you use your other hand? That one is much easier to clean.” He stuck out his tongue again as he went back to cleaning out the intricacies of her prosthetic.
“Yes, but it also can feel the blood. The sensory feedback on the metal isn’t nearly as keen as my real flesh.” He wrinkled his nose probably at the prospect of touching a murdered man’s innards. He must have felt the same as he didn’t bring it up again.
When he was finished he put it all back together and handed it to her. “Check to make sure it is no longer screeching.” She put on the hand without the brace. The ends connected with the parts embedded inside her flesh. Flexing her fingers she moved the articulated plates. Taking it off, she handed it back. “Looks good. Better yet it sounds good.”
Everett took it apart again, this time working on the innards of the hand. He dipped another swab into a jar of grease and worked it into the joints of the articulated parts. He cleaned out the innards of her hand with a lot more care than he had shown to the brass. This was the part none of them could replicate.
Everett said, “I wish I could make this.”
“Some of your machines are close.” He could make the articulated brass covering and even the steel structure inside. It was the augmented intelligence in the crystals, that made all of this possible, that was beyond his ability. A technology taught by the dragons to humans who then applied it in ways the dragons had never imagined.
“Some but none of them would be able to give the senses that you can from this. That is dragon magic.” His voice wistful.
“It isn’t magic it’s science.” Rayne didn’t like the worship of dragons. They weren’t gods.
“It might as well be magic. They can manipulate the essence of the universe.” He finished with the cleaning and handed it back to her. “Good as new. Now you can give society the finger without making a grinding noise as you do it.”
“Har di har har,” She replied as she took back her hand.
Chapter Six
Rayne watched Larkin tug on the collar of his shirt. This was the fifth or sixth time he had done that. Glancing at him she asked him, “A little too much starch?”
“First time for starch. I never bother with it.” He didn’t sound annoyed but rather bewildered.
“Rosie?” It was the only explanation for the change in his laundry routine and for the confused tone.
“Yes, she says my clothes need an upgrade. I was alright with replaced buttons and the pressing but I think I could do without the starch.”
“But not without Rosie.” His silence was significant. It was clear he wasn’t used to the idea of having a significant other. Rayne also wondered if he had thought about his feelings at all beyond that he enjoyed being with her. It was amusing to watch him stumbling in new territory.
Larkin asked, “Are you sure we shouldn’t have brought that rifle?”
The dragon had a place on Wilton Crescent. It was in a neighbourhood where they hired people to look after the exterior. This was probably good foresight of the dragon, who hadn’t been in his Londinium home in over four years.
Rayne checked her appearance as subtly as possible but she shouldn’t have bo
thered as Larkin was fighting his own clothes and didn’t notice her discreet adjustments. If he did see her, he would probably rib her for vanity.
“I’m not going to meet a dragon with a gun that is the same size as me. Firstly it will mean I won’t get that conversation I wanted and secondly I’ll look weak, as if I needed the gun to face him. I’m not afraid of the dragon.”
“Reports say he almost ate you the other night.” Her hope that word had not trickled down to all levels of society went up in a flash of smoke.
“He reacted badly seeing the ring but there was no danger of him actually eating me.” Rayne gave the door a sharp knock, and stepped back to wait for the butler. The door opened on the dragon himself. He looked like someone had rolled him around on the carpet and the static had created his hair style.
His clothes were beyond rumpled as he mumbled, “What do you want?”
“Can we talk?” He eyed her up and down then looked at Larkin who stood a step behind her on her right.
“Brought muscle this time. Scared?” He leaned on the doorframe, most likely to remain upright.
“No, at the moment, you’re just pathetic.” He certainly was with his unkempt appearance and still in the clothes he had worn the night before.
“I appreciate being demeaned by a civil servant. It puts me in my place,” He deadpanned.
Victor stepped back so they could enter. He rubbed his face, as he stumbled through the dim corridors, and she followed him. “I wasn’t expecting visitors so I don’t have anything to serve you. Unless you want some bourbon,” he offered.
Rayne wrinkled her nose at the prospect.
“I didn’t think so.” Victor threw himself onto a dusty love seat. Or possibly fell. He didn’t look entirely steady on his feet. He waved dismissively for them to take their own seats. Larkin wisely remained standing but Rayne politely accepted his offer. She dusted off most of the detritus with her mechanical hand as she didn’t want be able to feel the lingering grime. Still she sat on only the barest edge of the seat. Hands placed in perfect ladylike grace on her lap.
“I take it you haven’t been in Londinium for a while.” The rumours said at least four years but she would rather have confirmation. It certainly was suspicious that he had returned just as a body connected to his wife also was discovered in Londinium.
“A few years, I think. I left in bit of a hurry, forgot to close up the house like I usually do.” There was no guile in his voice so she assumed he had no better idea than the ton about how long he had been out of the city. Besides dragons were known to be cavalier with dates as they were so long lived, a year or two didn’t make much difference either way. He eyed the state of his house with bewilderment. She wondered if he expected to be gone this long.
“You could hire servants,” Rayne suggested, recognising the ploy for pity. Her mother tried the same but Victor was not as sophisticated as Lady Ancaster.
“Dragons don’t hire servants we collect them.” Rayne wasn’t going to touch the issue of collections. They were quasi slavery, as far as she understood the whole relationship, with a touch of family thrown in. Instead she brought out the ring again. Victor’s eyes were drawn to the handkerchief.
He leaned closer to study the ring. “Is that blood?”
“Yes, we found it on a dead man’s body yesterday. Are you willing to answer some questions?” Her prim sitting position only added to her professional air. She didn’t want the dragon to become emotional, otherwise they might have a repeat of the night before. The sitting room was already in a state. She didn’t think it would survive the transformation of the dragon to his full size.
“Maybe. What is in it for me?” His eyes were now on her mechanical hand instead of the ring. It was true, dragons were fascinated with the unusual.
“How about a deal? You answer one of my questions and I’ll answer one of yours.” Interest flickered in his eyes, chasing away some of the liquored daze.
She asked first before he could start, knowing that whoever started had the power in the conversation. “Is this Eleanor’s ring, was she wearing it when she left?”
“Yes. It should have an engraving inside with her name. It was especially made for her. There aren’t any others like it. How did you lose the hand?”
“It was a carriage accident when I was about nine. It was the middle of winter and my brother was sick. We were rushing to see a doctor when the carriage lost control and we tipped over. We were thrown about and my hand got trapped. It was crushed. They had to amputate or risk gangrene. Why did Eleanor leave you?”
“We weren’t a good match. I made a mistake. So she left.” She raised an eyebrow. He was keeping things from her or outright lying. Even the lie told her something. He was embarrassed by the reason she left. There was little that could shame a dragon but getting it wrong with their mate was one of them. So she let it slide.
He asked, “Who made your hand?”
“Jasmine Cavendish.” If he was going to lie then she would give him only what he asked and nothing more.
“A woman. Fascinating.” He rubbed his chin which was in need of a shave and found a spot that needed a scratch as he contemplated the woman who had made Rayne’s hand. He was most likely deciding whether Jasmine was worthy of his collection. After all that was what dragons did with unique people.
“She is married to a dragon.” Rayne stalled his plans with this free bit of information.
“Too late then.” He jokingly commented. Obviously not heart broken by not being able to collect Jasmine.
Taking control of the conversation again she brought them back to the interrogation. “Do you know who murdered your wife?”
“Yes, Sebastian Karmel, otherwise known as Head Basher Karmel. Why do they call you Lady Golden Hand?”
He had clearly been asking about her as he hadn’t known that was her nickname last night when they had first met. Who he had been talking to while in this state she wasn’t sure but she didn’t pry either. She suppressed the sigh. “When I was about ten my father had my first hand made. It was rudimentary with a brass claw. Of course others mocked me for it but they also wanted an easy cover if my father ever heard the name. Golden Hand can be complimentary but really it was to degrade me. I don’t answer to the name.”
His whiskey gold eyes sparked with amusement which she didn’t appreciate. He was worse than Everett who always thought the name was comical and apt. “You should take it back for your own.”
Rayne flushed red but didn’t take the bait. “Did you ever meet Sebastian?” She had seen the name in the records. So the man had been pardoned but eventually had paid for the crime. That was if he was truly guilty. She wasn’t entirely sure of that.
“Yes. He worked for Eleanor. When I found out they were going to pardon him I thought I would confront him. He was at the Maiden Hare. Drunk. He mocked me for being impotent. I left, I left Londinium altogether. How does it work?”
“I haven’t the foggiest.” She flexed the hand so he could see the extent of its abilities.
“That isn’t fair I answered your questions.” He dramatically pouted, putting debutantes to shame with the fat lip. At least he dropped the subtly from his manipulations.
“You have kept things from me.” They all looked towards the door as they heard knocking. Larkin went to see who would be knocking on the door of the dragon as it was clear the dragon wasn’t in any condition to be welcoming anyone or expecting guests.
Alone with the dragon for the moment he leaned forward and said, “Have you ever considered being in a dragon’s collection?”
Her brows shot together. “I’m not anyone’s slave, dragon, so you can forget all that. If you are offering marriage though, I think you need to look at your own suitability.”
She waved to indicate his unkempt state.
Larkin returned with a small runner. Rayne fished out a coin for the boy who worked for Scotland Yard. Larkin relayed the boy’s message while she paid him.
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��A head was found in the river. Since we’re the only ones missing one they think we might be interested.”
Rayne turned to Victor as she got to her feet. “We’ll be in contact.”
“I’ll come with you.” He rose to his feet with more grace than she would expect from his appearance.
“I don’t think you’re in much of a state to do anything, sir.” He was probably capable but it was an easy excuse.
“I can take you there as a dragon.” He flapped a hand to indicate he meant flying.
“No, you’re unlikely to be able to carry two people and we don’t want to scare the public.” She knew some of the lore around dragons and flying. They were not pack animals and it meant something more significant to offer a human a ride. She narrowed her eyes as she took him in. He was trying to manipulate her again and he had gone back to being sneaky about it.
He snorted. “Nothing fazes the people of Londinium, let alone a dragon. I can carry both of you.” She glanced at Larkin. It would be significantly faster but she knew her stalwart companion was not a fan of new experiences. She wanted to know what Victor was up to though. Surely it couldn’t simply be an urge to collect a woman with a golden hand. Besides she knew he was keeping something from her and she needed to be around him long enough to find out what he was hiding.
Larkin shrugged and said, “It’d be a story to tell the boys.” She shook her head at the lengths men would go to be able to hold one over the other. She turned back to Victor to study him. He was an open book emotionally. She would be able to tell if he was the killer the moment he saw the head. She might not know yet what he wanted from her but she could use it for her own benefit.
“Fine, you can take us but you’re to follow my lead. I don’t have loose cannons on my case.”
Chapter Seven
Lady Golden Hand Page 4