Soleil

by Jacqueline Garlick

  “Oh.” Urlick breaks out of his daze.

  Before he can turn, I dart toward him, clutch his face in my hands, and dip him over backward, kissing him long and hard.

  “Oh, my word,” the Vicar gasps. “This is very unorthodox.”

  “Yes, yes it is!” Livinea claps.

  The rest of the crowd cheers and jumps to their feet, clapping.

  When at last we come up for air, the Vicar is still clutching his heart. He crosses his chest again, his jowls wobbling. “Very, very unorthodox.”

  Livinea throws her bouquet up in the air and shouts. “Happy New Year!”

  “It certainly is, Livinea,” Urlick laughs. He scoops me up into his arms and carries me out of the hall.

  Chapter Twenty

  Urlick

  I SLIDE ON MY JACKBOOTS, swing on an overcoat, and tiptoe from our bedroom chambers, leaving Eyelet asleep in our bed.

  I trundle lightly down the stairs, then stride the length of the basement hall. My boots land sharp against the stone floor. I worry that the echo may wake everyone, but I need to check the gauges now the storm has ended.

  I make my way over to the barometers—much more complicated than the ones in the Compound—and hover over them. Every needle registers steadily within the normal range. All appears to be well. Which is strange... I should be thankful, I know, but still.

  Nothing even close to five parts per million. Yet yesterday, they soared well into the fifties by the end of the day.

  I tap the gauges just to be sure. The readings don’t spike or change. There’s not even a sign of lingering contamination. I knock through the side door and step out into the courtyard. It’s relatively calm outside, just a gentle breeze. The raging storm of last evening seems to have ended just as abruptly as it came on. The ceaseless winds that woke me from my sleep have ended. That’s twice now the winds have whipped up and become unbearable. Something unheard of in Brethren.

  I waft in a handful of Brethren’s famous, trolling brume, taking it deep into my lungs. No trace of Vapours. No hint of copper. No bitter arsenic aftertaste. No toxic bite to the tongue. How could it have registered so high last evening after the ceremony and suddenly just be gone?

  Brethren’s purification generators must be back up and running, though I’ve not yet sent anyone to do that repair. Regardless, they have somehow managed to successfully cleanse away what little trace of the Vapours had seeped into the city past their overwhelmed and faltering purification booms.

  Commonality appears to have been restored to the morning mist. Nothing seems out of place. The mere thought of that has me shuddering.

  What strange unexplained force is at work here?

  I head to the stables, grab Clementine, and ride to out to the ridge again. Trotting slowly past the mills, I check the equipment. Two Booms hang in tatters, sitting still eerily silent. The arms of three windmills are bent. Others are cracked, their rubber filters falling off. They’ll need attention immediately.

  Weren’t these all just repaired?

  Past the trees, beyond Gears, into the forest, all appears calm and serene.

  Nothing is ever this quiet after the rise of Vapours. Not so soon afterward, anyway. An unsettling feeling stirs in the pit of my stomach. Something is not right here.

  None of this is normal.

  Not the rise of the winds. Not the presences of Vapours. Not the ghouls getting in.

  Clementine paces and chews her bit.

  “Isn’t that right, ole girl?” I say.

  She whinnies, but there’s fear in her nostrils. She snorts, trying to clear it out.

  If things were progressing true to form, there’ll only be a small reprieve before the onslaught of the real Vapour storm.

  But since nothing seems to be progressing as normal, I’ve no idea what to expect next. Only that Eyelet and I better go after the necklace and get back here fast before the rise of the next storm.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Urlick

  I THROW BACK THE DOORS to the castle in time to see Eyelet coming down the stairs dressed in a dazzling, emerald velvet jacket and smooth, chocolate leather riding pants with matching boots. Apparently, she’s decided to forego her usual short skirt with flouncing side draperies—a sensible choice for this journey. A tan, leather, corset completes her ensemble, accentuating her hourglass middle, and pushing her chest up and nearly out of the sheer, ruffled chemise. The image starts my heart. Among other things.

  Even dressed as a boy, she’s a vision.

  C.L., Livinea, Martin and all the rest are quick to form a semi-circle at the bottom of the stairs, each preparing to bid their goodbyes. Iris, pushes a tear one side, as Wanda’s bottom lip quivers.

  “Well, I guess this is it,” Eyelet quips, pulling her riding gloves nervously through her hands. She adjusts the green velvet top hat on her head slightly forward. Her caramel eyes sparkle out beneath the brim. She leans forward, crushing Martin to her chest, the first in line. “Goodbye, my sweet.”

  I’m instantly stung by jealousy. I don’t know why—I mean, it is just Martin after all—but any rate, the feeling is overwhelming.

  “Goodbye, dear.” Martin hugs her back. “And congratulations, again.” He pulls away, looking teary. “I’ve never been happier for anyone.” He dabs tears from his weathered cheeks. “Do be careful, will you?” He sniffs.

  “Of course.” She hugs him tight again. She’s trying not to show it, but I can tell by the way she’s biting her lip, she’s apprehensive about the journey we’re about to take. And well she should be. I look back through the open door of the castle—at the calm before the expected storm.

  I decide it’s best to keep my morbid prediction to myself. I don’t want to spoil the moment. Besides, it’s quite possible I’m wrong.

  She moves on down the line. “Sadar?” She opens her arms to him and he falls into them, hugging her hard. “Goodbye,” he sniffs.

  “Not goodbye. We’ll see you soon.” She kisses the top of his balding head. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

  Eyelet embraces a sniffing Wanda next. “Oh, not you too.” She wraps her arms around her tight, as she sobs. “It’s all right. I promise.” She pats her on the back, trying to convince her, as well as herself I can tell by the squeak in her voice.

  A knot catches in my throat. She moves onto C.L., and I cannot speak. Emotion clutches us both.

  “Goodbye, C.L.” Eyelet’s voice fogs over. C.L. melts against her, struggling to draw in air through his staggered sobs. “Look after the women while we’re gone, you and Masheck, will you please?” She pats his back.

  “Always, mum.” C.L.’s soggy voice shudders. Livinea rubs his back.

  “Oh, Iris.” Eyelet turns, gulping back tears as Iris floods into her arms, a sobbing, lip quivering mess. “You be good now.” She rubs Iris’s back. “No funny business while I’m gone, you hear? Don’t want to come home to find anyone missing an eye or a limb, now do we?” Eyelet smiles at her as Iris pulls back, wiping her nose. “Save it for when I get back, and we’ll get up to it together.” Iris nods. Her misty expression lifts.

  Livinea flicks out a hankie and bursts into a hearty wail, then steps up for her hug. “Yuh be good, miss.” She pats Eyelet’s back.

  “I will,” Eyelet assures her.

  “Just get that necklace and come right back.”

  “I swear.” Eyelet breaks away, crossing her heart. “Not to wor-rie.” Livinea smiles.

  “Masheck.” She nods to him next, hesitant to throw out her arms. Masheck’s eyes fall to his boots, then he moves in quick, giving her a brief, stiff hug. “Take care of yourself,” he whispers in her ear. “And him.” His eyes float up to me from over her shoulder. “He’s been known to get into some trouble.” Eyelet laughs as she pulls away.

  I step up to pat Masheck on the back, his face dirty, his hair strewn with cobwebs. “What’s this?” I pluck a spider from his head before leaning in.

  “Oh, that.” He knocks
it away. “Just doing a bit of exploring.” He nervously smiles. “I’ll tell you all about it later. When there’s more time.”

  I narrow my gaze at him wondering what’s up, but there’s no time to go into detail. If he’s not telling me something, it’s likely for my own good. As long as I’ve known Masheck, his intentions have been nothing but honourable.

  “We’ll catch up when I get back, then?” I pat his shoulder, catching his gaze hard.

  “Yes, sir.” He nods, and looks away.

  He’s likely just found something that needed fixing and took it upon himself to complete it, I steady my mind. “Oh, and Masheck,” I turn. “A couple of the windmills and booms out there are in bad shape. Can I count on you and C.L. to see to that?”

  “Not a problem.”

  “Well, if that’s everyone.” Eyelet looks to me, running nervous hands down the front of her riding pants. “No, wait. Where’s the Matriarch?” She looks around. “We can’t leave without saying goodbye to her.”

  Iris and Livinea drop their gazes to the ground.

  “What is it? What’s the matter?”

  C.L. steps up. “I’m afraid she’s left us, mum.”

  “Left us?”

  “In the night. Gone ‘ome, so to speak.” He looks down then up. Up at the sky.

  “Oh,” Eyelet lowers her wobbling chin.

  “Passed on in her sleep. Peacefully.”

  “Well, thank God for that, I guess,” she sniffs.

  I move in, wrapping my arms about her waist, giving her a shoulder to cry into, comforting her until her sobbing passes. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I raise her chin. “You don’t have to, you know. You could stay here with the rest.”

  “We’ve been through this.” She snuffs.

  “I know, but—”

  “Nonsense.” Tenacity sparks in her eyes. “Wherever you go, I go, remember?”

  “But what if we get out there and—” I bite my lip. “Well…I’d never forgive myself.”

  She reaches up, cupping my ghostly face in her hands. “Listen to me, Urlick Babbit-Winslow.” Her eyes dart over mine. “Should something happen to me out in the forest and I draw my last breath, I will have died the happiest woman in all the Commonwealth.” Her lips move against mine. Her breath is hot and sweet. She ignites the light in my body that only Eyelet can—a true and endless flame.

  “Besides, I have unfinished business with Flossie to attend to.” She vaults to her toes, kisses me lightly, then breaks away, leaving me breathless and craving.

  “Now…I believe we have a necklace to retrieve.”

  She turns heel and marches away, every ounce the warrior, tossing a cheeky-grinned glance back over her shoulder—determined and stubborn, yet sweetly sassy—qualities of hers that both vex and entice me.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Eyelet

  “THERE’S ONE MORE THING!” Sadar toddles after us. I whirl around, gravel churning beneath my boots. He’s grinning, wildly. All the rest of them are grinning wildly, too. What is this? What’s the matter with them?

  “What is it?” I retreat, smiling myself.

  Sadar shuffles past me, motioning for Urlick and I to stop where we stand. Martin joins him. The others all following.

  What is all this?

  “You mustn’t leave without your special surprise.” Sadar smiles with his eyes. He and Martin tuck in behind the stable, and I’m half expecting to see Clementine emerge, all decked out in new gear, but instead we’re informed to close our eyes. “Tight,” Martin says.

  “And no peekin’” C.L. adds. The three jostle behind a thicket of bushes just off the drive.

  I turn to Urlick. “What on earth?”

  “You heard the man.” Urlick smiles.

  A last bit of joy before a harrowing trip, I’m so glad they’ve planned this.

  “Are they shut?” Martin calls from behind the hedge.

  Livinea swings around to check. “All set!” She calls in a giddy voice. Though my eyes are closed, I feel the presence of her and Iris giggling next to me.

  “Do you know about this?” I say to Urlick, without looking.

  “No. Did you?”

  “No.”

  The girls giggle beside us again, like they’ve managed to pull off some major caper, and in fact, I believe they have.

  There’s a bustling of bodies and a shuffle of feet, and a load more giggles, before at last, “Ready?” all three of them shout.

  “Ready!” Urlick and I call back together. Urlick reaches over, taking my hand.

  There’s a distinct creak of wheels, a familiar click, click, click as something is swept toward us up the drive and brought to a stone-crunching halt in front of us.

  “You can look now,” Sadar and Martin say simultaneously, a tinge of excitement in their voices. Livinea claps her hands.

  I open my eyes and tears spring. “Oh, my goodness.” I clamp a hand over my mouth. “I can’t believe it.” My gaze grows burrier as I stare. The most magnificent creature stands before us made of iron and wood, instead of bone like before, with a metal-pounded bucket for a head instead of a bleached bird’s skull. But, otherwise it is a dead ringer—an exact replica—of Bertie.

  Urlick gasps. His adam’s apple bobbing the length of his throat, and I can tell he’s fighting back tears, himself.

  “He hasn’t the elegance of the original, I’m afraid,” Martin says. “But he’s a close likeness, don’t you think?”

  “You like ‘im?” Livinea asks, crowding in.

  “Like him? He’s wonderful.” My voice cracks.

  “We got to work on him as soon as we heard the news,” Martin adds. “We thought it’d be best you venture back out into those wood on something like this, versus Clementine with those bulky wings. That way Clementine could stay behind, in case we needed some way to come and find you.”

  “We stayed up ‘alf the nights, cobblin’ this beauty together,” C.L. adds.

  “So you two did this?” I look to C.L. and he blushes.

  “Yeah,” he says. “Though I only did the base work, but Martin’s responsible for all the juicy bits.” C.L. pats him with a foot. “‘E’s quite the scientific masterminded, ‘e is.”

  “Really?” I acknowledge Martin, and smiles blooms everywhere.

  “He’s fabulous,” Urlick says, bolting forward to inspect it.

  I lunge too, running my hands over the cycle’s, sleek, sanded wooden body and pebbled iron neck, and pat the cycle on its pounded-metal bucket head. I lean over to peer at the sweet expression on its face. “Are those Bertie’s?” I say, in disbelief, touching the singed rims of the creature’s lamplight eyes. “They are, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, mum.” C.L. smiles. “And he’s got the same fat balloon tires and metal ‘andlebars with rubber grips that Bertie ‘ad, too. I made sure of it,” C.L. says. “Did me best to recapture ‘is spirit.”

  I straighten, steering away a tear. “Well, he couldn’t be any more special. If only Cordelia was here to see this.” I swallow the thought down and swoop to embrace the cycle, but it doesn’t make a sound. No chortling or gasping or sighing. Nothing. It may look like Bertie, but it doesn’t breathe like he did.

  I’m suddenly overwhelmed by a tug of sadness. I suppose there was no capturing his spirit completely.

  “I fashioned the wings after Clementine’s.” Martin’s voice breaks the moment. “Only, I used collapsible wooden flexors instead of steel ones to help the wings retract more easily. I hope they hold up as well. I did fasten them together with iron hinges for strength, so that should help.” He looks to Urlick for approval.

  “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Urlick pats his back. He rounds the cycle and clicks the button on the iron handlebars. A pair of great wings unfold neatly from the fat back fender on the cycle’s rear tire. They shoot out and forward, spanning almost two metres each on either side, allowing much more space for the rider’s legs.

  “A considerable improvement on my
original design.” he smiles.

  Martin rubs a shy toe in the dirt. “We draped the frames in bumbershoot material, to replace Clementine’s steel feathers with flesh. I thought it gave ‘im a more bat-like appearance, like the original. He should be a might lighter to fly, too.”

  “Excellent choice.” Urlick nods.

  “So it does fly, then?” I raise a wary brow at Urlick.

  Urlick’s head shoots around.

  “Beg your pardon, miss?” Martin looks confused.

  “Just checking,” I toss a cheeky smile Urlick’s way.

  He scowls and strides toward the cycle, eager to get at the controls.

  “I took the liberty of filling the canisters up with hydrogen, sir.” C.L. dawdles after him. “And secured two others in your pack.”

  “Canisters?”

  “Yes, sir. He’s equipped with two. One on this side. One on the other.” He shows him. “More power that way. Much more than Bertie ever ha—” He stops himself, realizing the insult.

  “How clever,” I sweep in, patting C.L.’s shoulder, smirking at a simmering Urlick.

  “Martin, you best show ‘im the extras,” C.L. motions.

  “Oh, yes.” Martin scoots up. “I’ve added a few gadgets I thought might come in handy.”

  “Such as?”

  “He’s voice operated,” Martin beams, running a proud hand over the front fender.

  “He’s what?”“ Urlick looks astonished.

  “Meaning, in a pinch, he’ll come to his name. All you need to do is take a few minutes to train the Nogard to recognize your voice patterns.”

  Urlick scowls.

  “His internal voice recognition activator,” Martin explains. “Once it’s set, he’ll respond to the unique sound vibrations of his trainer’s voice.”

  “Sort of like Simon and Edger did—my father’s birds. They were trained to know only Father and me, by the sound of voices.”

  “Exactly.” Martin nods. “Oh, and his wings are equipped with special filtration devices that clean the air for you to breathe as you fly. That way you don’t have to worry about usin’ up all the oxygen in the gasmasks while in the air. But it only works when flying, not on the ground.”