The Clockwork Wolf

by Lynn Viehl

  A tall, thin man got up and walked past me without so much as a glance. “We need more champagne. Where the devil is that butler?” He sauntered out of the room.

  I regarded the leering faces round me. “Is there not a decent man among you who will put a stop to this now?” I was answered by raucously laughing and several of the most lewd and lascivious suggestions ever to pollute my ears. “I see.”

  I looked at the footman still holding on to me. Fortunately he was rather young and looked somewhat green. “I’m a helpless woman, and they won’t stop until I’m dead, you know. You’ll be an accessory to murder. Or you may end up on that thing.”

  He gave me an incredulous look. “Can’t do that to a man, miss.”

  “They didn’t tell you? Oh, dear.” I leaned forward as if to whisper more, and then drove my knee into his groin. As he dropped I slipped my hands out of the cord Night Snow had merely wrapped round my wrists, picked up a full bottle of champagne, and smashed it over the skull of the other footman. “Seems I’m not so helpless after all.”

  I ran, dodging the hands that snatched at me, and made it out into the hall before more footmen appeared. I feinted going for the stairs before I ducked under grabbing arms and fled to the front foyer.

  Lykaon stood waiting for me just outside on the steps, and climbed them as he brought with him a young, writhing boy he was holding by the throat.

  “Take another step,” he said, “and I’ll snap his neck.”

  As I retreated, he carried the gasping urchin inside and set him on his feet. The butler appeared, and hurried to lock the entry.

  “I won’t try to run again,” I said quietly. “You don’t have to hurt the boy.”

  “I knew what you would do before you did it. That is how simple you are to me.” The Aramanthan stroked the matted hair of the sobbing child. “Now we have a dilemma. Should I give them the boy first? He won’t last very long, but you’ll gain a few more precious minutes of life. And you may have some wine and watch with the others.”

  This was the last straw. “I had thought I had met the worst scum of your lot, but I was in error.” I closed my eyes, summoning Harry with every ounce of my will.

  Lykaon made a satisfied sound before he murmured, “At last.”

  Something felt wrong, and my eyes snapped open to see the Aramanthan holding aloft a glittering stone. At the same time Harry materialized, looking from me to the boy, and then at Lykaon.

  “Wait— Harry, it’s a trap!” I shouted, but by then the power of the stone was dragging at him. When I tried to fling myself at Lykaon someone caught me from behind and held me.

  “He is mine now,” the Aramanthan said.

  The mist that had been my grandfather was pulled into the stone, vanishing into its core. As soon as Harry was imprisoned, Lykaon pulled the street urchin closer and forced the stone into his mouth.

  “Swallow it,” he told the child, shaking him until he did.

  The boy staggered away, his eyes rolling up in his head before he dropped to his knees. When he lifted his face again his eyes had filled with a cold, relentless fury.

  “You would imprison me in this babe?” the boy said in Harry’s voice. “He is an innocent mortal.”

  “Where is your gratitude, old friend?” Lykaon picked up the boy like a doll. “You shall have a long and interesting life in this body—once it matures. Until then, you will be like a son to me. A very faithful, obedient son.”

  With a quick movement, Harry latched on to Lykaon’s nose with his teeth, viciously clamping down as blood streamed to the Aramanthan’s chin. Using his hand to squeeze the boy’s jaw mercilessly until Harry released him, Lykaon handed the boy to the butler. “But for that, you will be whipped. Take him away.”

  I watched Harry struggling to free himself from the butler’s viselike grip, and when they vanished down the hall I regarded the Aramanthan. “This is why you traded the skull for me. So that I’d bring him to you.”

  “It isn’t cleverness if you realize it after the fact.” Lykaon mopped the blood from his face and felt his nose, which had already healed. “But thank you just the same.”

  I stared at him. “You think I’m going to give up, just like that?”

  “Merlin—or what is it you call him? Harry? Names are so tedious.” He went to a mirror to examine his reflection. “Your Harry will be whipped for injuring me. As he now possesses a mortal body, his skin will come apart. He will bleed and scream and feel every lash, just as the boy would.”

  “He was only defending himself.”

  “So am I. Do you know, in my time among you mortals I have witnessed punishments so painful and cruel that they are only spoken of in whispers. So while it is true that I cannot kill Harry, Miss Kittredge, I can make him wish for death. I daresay in time I can even make the old meddler beg for it.”

  The pleasure in his voice turned my spine to ice. “You really are a beast.”

  “Once I was called the Wolf King. Soon I will be king of Rumsen, and then Toriana, and then the world. I much prefer that.” He turned round and nodded to the footman holding me. “The men will be growing restless, and they deserve some special entertainment tonight. Take her back to them now.”

  • • •

  No one applauded this time as I was dragged kicking and screaming back to the altar. The men sat as if bespelled by the sight of me being strapped down, their hands holding goblets with wine they weren’t drinking, and ash falling from the cigars they weren’t smoking. I fell silent, too, as heavy thuds sounded from outside in the hall.

  At least two Wolfmen, coming to make my acquaintance.

  I turned my head and addressed the man nearest to me. “You know that Lykaon has been taking men from the club and turning them into monsters. But what he hasn’t told you is that the magic is lethal—it kills every man it’s used on. He means to do the same to you, and because the spell is wrong it will turn out the same as all the others.” I turned my head to the other side of the room. “He will sacrifice every one of you.”

  Some of the men paled, and several began muttering to each other. Yet not one of them moved to help me or made any protest.

  They were nothing but sheep, all of them. “Every Wolfman has died, you simpletons. You know this—and the same will happen to you. All of you will run amok and then die horrible deaths.”

  One of the spectators took a quick gulp of his wine before he said to footman, “Can’t you gag her, man?”

  The Wolfmen were in full, hairy transformation as they burst in the room. I saw men scrambling out of the way as they stalked toward me, their beastly countenances filled with hatred and lust. Dredmore could not save me, and Harry had been rendered helpless. In my heart I knew there would be no escape from them this time.

  I closed my eyes and thought of the gardens at Morehaven. Whatever was done to me now, I would be there in my heart.

  The sound of another Wolfmen came thumping into the room, but instead of growling he spoke. “Get away from her.”

  I opened my eyes to see Chief Inspector Doyle standing just behind the Wolfmen, his body encased in Docket’s strong suit. My relief was so massive that I screamed his name.

  “Tommy!”

  The Wolfmen both attacked him in tandem, snapping and clawing as they set on him. I cringed and then craned my head as Doyle knocked both of the beasts away into the spectators, causing furnishings to smash, crystal to shatter and men to shout in terror.

  Motors whirred as Doyle thumped over to me, his determined features a sight even lovelier to behold than my memory of Dredmore’s flowers.

  “They’re getting up,” I told him as he hooked his hand brace over one shackle and tore it free. “When you have another go at them, hit them square in the chest; that’s where the clockworks are.”

  Doyle didn’t have the opportunity to hit anything, as he was dragged away from the altar by one beast and clawed by the other. Sparks flew from the strong suit as he returned the mauling by catching the W
olfman’s hand and crushing it to a mangled pulp. I went to work on my other shackle, yanking at it furiously as Doyle fought off the beasts.

  Lykaon’s servants and the club members began piling out of the room as the battle raged on. I alternated between watching and cringing and trying to work myself free. One Wolfman went hurtling into a wall, disappearing through the hole created by the impact. Plaster dust and shattered brick billowed out from the ruined wall, clouding the air and making me cough.

  The other stayed on Doyle, savagely snapping and clawing at him from every direction until he barreled into him and knocked him flat. I saw the Wolfman fling himself atop Doyle and screamed.

  Several shots rang out, sending the Wolfman tottering backward until he fell on his back, the smoking ruin of his clockworks giving a few final, slowing ticks before they went still.

  The inspector was levered back upright by the suit, and had his pistol ready as the other Wolfman clawed his wall out of the wall. He fired, and the third shot took him down.

  He had defeated them, one man against two monsters, thanks to the strong suit. As soon as I saw Docket again I planned to kiss him into a swoon.

  “I do like your birthday present,” Doyle said as he came to me and went to work on the rest of my shackles. “Can I borrow it again sometime?”

  I wrapped my arms round his neck and sobbed something female and ridiculous before I could compose myself. “You’re insane. Thank you.” As my heartbeat stopped trying to bang its way out of my chest I took in a steadying breath. “Tom, we must find Harry—my grandfather,” I added. “Lykaon has him trapped in the body of a child.”

  He drew back. “Sorry, what?”

  The strong suit was making such a racket I didn’t bother to repeat it. “Never mind.” Once he’d removed the last shackle round my ankle I sat up and braced my good hand against his shoulder to climb down.

  “Here.” He pressed the power switch, and the noise stopped along with the motors. “You said your grandfather has a child?”

  Three more Wolfmen appeared behind Doyle and seized him by the arms and neck, dragging him back from me.

  “Switch it back on, Tommy,” I said, but before Doyle could press the button on his palm one of the Wolfmen clouted him on the back of the head, knocking him out.

  I lunged toward Doyle, but was hauled back by one of the club members. As I struggled to free myself I saw a strange little man in a doctor’s coat walk in front of Doyle and pause to study him. “I have an admirer, it seems. The device is rather primitive, milord, and made to serve more as body armor than augmentation. The output delivery is tolerable, I suppose.”

  Lykaon joined him. “He defeated two of my soldiers, Mr. Desney.”

  “By shooting them,” Desney said, sounding like a sulky child. “Still, I would like to meet its maker.”

  “It’s mine,” I said, drawing their attention. “The inspector only borrowed from me.”

  “A female did not build this, milord,” Desney said, as if I were invisible. “Women have no head for engineering.”

  “Take it to the testing area,” Lykaon told the Wolfmen, who dragged Doyle from the room.

  “Tommy,” I shrieked, yanking my arms free and stumbling as I tried to follow.

  “No, Miss Kittredge,” Lykaon said as he blocked my path and took out a long, thin blade. “You have caused quite enough annoyance for one night. It’s time you—” He stopped and frowned as a gleaming brass rat scurried between his feet. “Mr. Desney, I thought we agreed, no vermin.”

  “It is not mine, milord.” Desney reached down to capture the rat, but as soon as he touched it the rat squealed—and then exploded into a billowing cloud of white crystals.

  The ice spell had no effect on me, but instantly froze Desney and Lykaon into frosty statues. I ran past them into Dredmore’s arms. “Lucien, I will never complain about your timing again. We have to save Tommy; did you see where they took him?”

  Behind me ice began to crack.

  “He’s disrupting the spell. Come.” Dredmore lifted me off my feet and carried me with rapid strides down the hall, where he stopped at the wall. With one kick of his boot he opened a door concealed in the bricks, which swung inward.

  “I can walk.” When he didn’t put me down, I wriggled. “Really, Lucien, I’m fine.”

  Reluctantly he set me on my feet. “I am never letting you out of my sight again.” He pushed the wall-door back into place. “Now, be quiet.”

  I nodded, and followed him down a dark hall that led to an enormous chamber that looked at first glance like a larger version of Docket’s Dungeon. Then I saw the operating table and racks of gleaming surgical instruments, and the long rows of giant cages filled with Wolfmen.

  Tommy was being hung by the three Wolfmen on a pair of hooks dangling from a rafter. He was also still unconscious.

  Dredmore motioned for me to follow him into a narrow recess between some cabinets and the side wall. We edged through the space by walking sideways, until we were directly behind the operating tables.

  “As soon as they go, I will free him,” Dredmore said in the barest of murmurs.

  I nodded, feeling slightly more confident. My hopes, however, were immediately dashed by the sight of Lykaon entering the chamber.

  “Come along, Desney,” he said as he approached Doyle’s dangling figure. There wasn’t a speck of ice on the immortal now. “It’s only a spot of frostbite.”

  “What about the two that escaped?” the rude little man said as he appeared, his reddened hands rubbing at his still-icy ears.

  “The men will find them and bring them back, and then you may have them,” Lykaon said. “But first we will attend to this fellow.”

  “Yes, milord.” Desney glanced up at Doyle. “I can cut the man out of the rig, but to avoid damaging it he will have to be dismembered.”

  I surged forward, but Dredmore pulled me back and clamped a hand over my mouth, shaking his head as he looked down into my furious eyes.

  “Killing him will only waste an excellent opportunity,” Lykaon said. “We have never attempted the transformation spell with such mech as this.”

  Desney looked indignant. “This design is decidedly inferior, milord.”

  “Are you questioning me again?” Lykaon drew out a dagger and regarded him. “I thought not. The last time was so very painful for you.”

  Before I could blink the Aramanthan sliced open the palms of his hands and flung them at Doyle, spattering him with blood. Lykaon began to chant as he walked round Doyle.

  I struggled against Dredmore, who refused to release me. Only when the chains suspending Doyle’s body began to shake did I go still.

  The gouts of blood covering Doyle began to shrink and disappear into his body, absorbed as if he were a sponge. The fabric of Doyle’s garms rippled and then began to tear as the mech fitted on his body seemed to contract. I didn’t understand what was happening as his body jerked and writhed, and then I saw the shreds of one sleeve fall away, baring Doyle’s muscular arm. The braces clamped to his flesh tightened so much his skin bulged out and then tore just as his clothes had. The mech grew bloody as it burrowed into the horrible wounds, which I knew would be the death of him in only a few seconds.

  Doyle did not die, however, and the terrible injuries inflicted by the shrinking of mech did not bleed. Instead, his flesh began to stretch, closing over the gaping wounds and the mech inside them.

  Dredmore caught his breath, and I blinked madly through the tears in my eyes, frozen with disbelief as I watched Doyle’s body heal itself over the mech, the flesh rejoining and knitting itself back together. Each horrible scar then began to fade, smoothly out until no trace of the wound or the mech appeared on Doyle’s skin. By the time all the blood disappeared, so had the mech, and Doyle’s limbs bulged and writhed.

  “He will not survive the bonding, milord,” Desney said, looking satisfied now. “The device was not meant to function internally.”

  Doyle did look as if he we
re dying, his face contorting as his body jerked. Dredmore’s hand came away from my mouth, and he turned me to him, trying to hide my face against him. Only then did I realize I was silently weeping, and I clutched at him in despair.

  The chains stopped rattling, and when I looked again Doyle hung in garments reduced to rags, his body ominously still.

  “I think he is dead now.” Desney went to release the chains, and let Doyle drop to the floor. “Shall I burn the body like the other failures?”

  “Not just yet.” Lykaon walked over to Doyle and crouched beside him. “This one has a switch, remember?” He pressed Doyle’s palm.

  I nearly screamed as Doyle’s eyes opened, and two struts shot out of his sides to push him upright. When they contracted, he stood, swaying as he stared at the floor.

  “It still functions.” Desney bent to peer at Doyle’s face. “The device will animate him, of course, but the flesh will soon rot—”

  Before he could finish Doyle lashed out at him, sending him sprawling, before he lifted his head and eyed Lykaon.

  “I am your master now,” the Aramanthan said. “You will not attack until I command you.” As Doyle took a step toward him, he frowned. “Desney, it does not obey. Desney?”

  Doyle lunged, seizing Lykaon and tossing him into the cages, where the Wolfmen howled and clawed at the bars. He followed, his hands bulging with the mech inside as he reached for the immortal’s throat. At the last minute he faltered, looking down at his hand and then turning away. His steps shuffled, and then lengthened, and when he reached a wall he punched a hole through it, stepped out, and was gone.

  Lykaon went to Desney, lifting him up to shake him. “Why doesn’t it obey me?”

  The rude little man’s head lolled to one side, revealing the gruesome angle of his broken neck.

  The Aramanthan made a disgusted sound, dropping the dead man before opening several cages. “Come, my soldiers. We have a new recruit to tame.”

  • • •

  Dredmore would not listen to me as he led me out through the back of Lykaon’s ghastly Wolfmen factory. “The inspector is still alive, and has a far better chance than we of prevailing over Lykaon, or of escaping on his own.”