“I need to study some of the connections further,” Adam said, dusting himself off as he climbed to his feet. “The gears are primitive, but intriguing. That was amazing!” Jacob had never seen Adam happier than when he was either taking something apart or building a new contraption. Right now, Adam’s face beamed with the joy of a puzzle to unravel.
“So you don’t see a threat in something like this, a way it could be used as a weapon?” Mitch pressed.
Adam frowned, taking another close look at the dismantled clockwork mechanism. “It would be a lot cheaper to put men in armor on the front line than a row of these,” he said, shaking his head. “They’re time-consuming to make, limited in ability, easily broken, and difficult to transport. And expensive as hell to construct.”
“We interrogated Lustig and Shurlman,” Jacob said. “They admitted that the other part of their scheme was creating a distraction for break-ins. But that’s where it goes a little murky. They claimed the thefts were for a single buyer, but they said they never met him in person. Everything was set up with messages carried back and forth by a mechanical carrier pigeon.”
Adam crossed his arms and frowned. “I really hate it when the bad guys steal the concepts from my inventions. I gave the Department clockwork carrier pigeons ages ago!” He paused. “You’re afraid the Dollmaker is back, aren’t you?”
Mitch and Jacob exchanged a look. “What do you know about the Dollmaker? That’s supposed to be classified.”
Adam snorted. “Yeah, and so’s everything in this lab. But people talk. Word gets out. Inventors like to be acknowledged, especially the evil genius kind like Dollmaker.” He shrugged. “Phineas Sheldon used to make the rounds of all the engineering and academic meetings,” he went on. “Had some good ideas, but they weren’t quite as brilliant as he thought they were, and he got annoyed when we didn’t elect him leader-of-everything. He was always fascinated with artificial life. Taxidermy. Dioramas. Dolls, mechanical men, clockworks. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he veered into resurrectionist territory.”
“Did he have any magic?” Jacob asked.
Adam poured himself another cup of coffee from the pot on a nearby Bunsen burner and gulped it down black. “Magic? Not to my knowledge. He was more of a watchmaker with dreams of creating a really important invention and retiring rich.” He sighed. “I think that’s what rankled the other inventors and scientists about him. It was never science or learning for the sheer thrill of discovery. With Sheldon, it was always first and foremost about the money.”
Mitch and Jacob thanked Adam, promised him first chance to examine any more unusual equipment they found, and Lars, the werkman, escorted them out. Hans, their coachman, was waiting by their carriage.
“Is Mr. Farber doing well?” Hans asked. “I do hope you passed along my best wishes to him.” Hans kept his hat pulled down low and his collar turned up to hide his features from curious passers-by, but up close, Jacob could see where metal parts had replaced flesh and bone too damaged to repair. Adam’s inventions had enabled Hans to return to work after a catastrophic accident, and Hans remained deeply grateful.
“Fine and dandy,” Mitch said as he and Jacob climbed into the coach.
“There has been a slight change of plans,” Hans said, leaning into the coach. He lightly tapped a hidden earpiece that enabled him to receive telegraph messages. “Agent Kennedy insisted I was to bring you to the Conservatory. She says it’s of utmost importance.”
Jacob chuckled. “I have a feeling Della’s been doing some legwork of her own while we’re off shooting zombies and picking Adam’s brain.”
Mitch nodded. “Let’s hope she’s found a few more answers. I have a feeling there’s a lot more going on than a couple of third-rate hucksters and their mechanical monster.”
Hans drove the carriage to Oakland, where the soaring white metal spires and arches of the ornate Phipps Conservatory gleamed in the sun. The metal and glass conservatory was a marvel, an elaborate greenhouse displaying exotic plants and rare flowers from all over the world.
“Did Agent Kennedy say where we should look for her?” Mitch asked as he and Jacob alighted.
Hans held the door for them. “No, sir. She said they would find you.”
Mitch and Jacob exchanged a glance as they headed into the man-made jungle. Only a few steps into the humid atmosphere of the artificial rainforest made Jacob tug at his stiff, starched shirt collar. Mitch was trying to act as if the heat didn’t bother him, but sweat beaded on his forehead.
“I don’t much care for hide and seek,” Mitch grumbled. Jacob shared his sentiment. The thick vegetation made the Conservatory an ideal hiding place, and like Mitch, he kept a hand near his gun, while trying not to alarm the ladies and gentlemen out for a stroll amid the pretty flowers.
“Who’s hiding?” Della stepped out from behind one of the huge philodendrons. She wore a blue traveling suit with a short jacket that nipped in at the waist, accentuating both her slim figure and the skirt’s moderate bustle in the back.
“You decided we needed an outing? Why did you have us meet you here?” Mitch asked, a touch of annoyance in his tone.
“She didn’t. I did.” The second voice seemed to come from thin air. Then the air shimmered and the illusion faded. A slim, almost ethereal woman with light brown hair stood near Della, a hint of a smile on her finely-featured face. Renate Thalberg, absinthe witch, seer, and very well-connected member of New Pittsburgh’s powerful, hidden magic community.
“Hello, Renate,” Mitch said, as he and Jacob gave a nod in greeting to each of the women. “To what do we owe the honor?”
“I wanted to warn you,” Renate replied. “You haven’t found all the monsters. Andreas and I are doing what we can, but there’s something big going on, and I think it’s got a foot in both our worlds.”
They walked together through the winding paths of the conservatory. Plants overhung their raised beds, dripping tendrils and runners into the aisles that brushed the tops of their heads. Lush greens, vibrantly colored flowers, rare orchids, and plump succulents vied for space, mounding in their rich soil beds. Mitch walked with Renate, while Jacob and Della walked behind, guns hidden by close at hand, on guard. The air was heavy with the perfume of dozens of tropical flowers, the smell of fresh vegetation, and the scent of loam and moist earth.
“What do you mean?” Della asked. “What other monsters?”
“Man-like creatures have been spotted in several neighborhoods,” Renate replied, keeping her voice low. “Not living men. They have the form of men, but they’re not normal. Faster, stronger. So far, we haven’t been able to capture them.”
“Automatons?” Mitch speculated. “Like the werkmen the Department uses sometimes?”
Renate shook her head. “No. There’s a taint of magic to them, but so far, they’ve gotten away before we could capture one. The descriptions vary. Some say the figures have no faces, and others say they looked like giant puppets.”
Jacob sighed. “That last part sounds like the Dollmaker. But why? What do the ‘monsters’ do?”
Renate glanced around to assure herself that they were alone. Jacob suspected she had magical means of making certain they were not overheard as well. “Several different things, if the stories we’ve heard are true,” she said. “Sometimes, they created a distraction while a nearby place was robbed. In other cases, they chased people. Some of the people got away, some didn’t.”
“Lustig and his assistant are in custody,” Mitch said. “His monsters won’t be terrorizing anyone anymore.”
Renate shook her head. “He was the least of the problems. Just another con man. These other monsters took advantage of the distraction Lustig presented. We need to work together on this. Whoever’s out there is using the supernatural and the scientific. Bad magic, and powerful technology—it’s a dangerous mix.”
The conservatory changed the themes of its displays throughout the year, hoping to entice patrons to visit for each new exhib
it. As they walked along the paths, Jacob noted the current ‘Town and Country’ theme, complete with topiaries made in the shape of furnishings or farm animals, and small tableaus of rural and city life.
Figures of people made from terra cotta were posed in a variety of settings. Clay figures of a man and woman sat at a table with tea cups in the midst of a rose garden, while a few steps away, two more clay mannequins looked like they were out for a hike among a display of wild flowers. Three figures dressed for safari were situated in a room full of jungle plants, while another three of the mannequins in the desert room appeared to be gold miners amid the cactus. The terra cotta people looked a bit like garden pots put together to make rough human forms, and Jacob could not decide whether they were whimsical or unnerving.
“Can you trace the magic back to the one who cast it?’ Jacob asked, returning his attention to the conversation.
Renate sighed. “It’s rarely as simple as that. Not when the one doing the magic is good at the Craft. Whoever it is has power, and the residue stinks of death magic.”
“A necromancer?” Mitch asked. Quickly, he filled Renate in on the stolen bodies and animated corpses. She listened quietly, her expression concerned.
“There are different kinds of death magic,” Renate replied. “Not all who practice it are necromancers. But from what you tell me, the most likely suspect would be Sandor Kasmir.” She paused. “That’s who I’d bet is either behind it or has a hand in the mess somewhere. He has some skill with necromancy, but he is fascinated with technology. He is sure that he can find the intersection of science and magic.”
“I’ve already sent word to Father Matija and the Logonje about the restless dead,” Della added. “To see if they can help keep the corpses from being tormented by whatever’s making them rise.” The Logonje were a secret group of Orthodox Polish priests who worked outside of normal church channels and used relics and holy objects to fight supernatural threats. Matija and his priests occasionally crossed paths with the Department.
“Lustig’s beast was completely mechanical,” Jacob said. “But those zombies at the cemetery certainly weren’t. Could the Dollmaker and Kasmir be working separately, toward different goals?”
Conversation halted as a group of older ladies who looked like they were from a Shadyside garden club maneuvered past. Only a handful of other visitors walked the Conservatory paths at this hour.
Renate frowned. “Maybe,” she replied with the garden ladies were out of earshot. “But there’s another piece you need to know. Several women with strong clairvoyant abilities have gone missing in the last two weeks.”
“Witches?” Mitch asked quietly.
Renate shook her head. “No. Mediums. People with a genuine talent for speaking with the spirits of the dead.”
“That makes Kasmir a more likely suspect,” Della said. “Did the mediums have anything else in common, other than their talent?”
Renate shrugged. “Not that Andreas and I have been able to figure out. But the magical community is frightened. There are rumors that the police are behind the disappearances, or even the Department.”
“You know that isn’t true,” Mitch retorted.
Renate fixed him with a look. “What I know doesn’t matter. It’s what the others think. If I’d have believed DSI had anything to do with it, I wouldn’t have agreed to meet you here.”
Just then, an odd clanking sound made them stop in their tracks. Della and Jacob drew their guns, and Mitch went for his revolver. Renate went very still, her face composed, eyes distant, and Jacob knew she was calling on her magic to look for the source of the noise.
More clanking, and the sound of a footstep on gravel. Jacob and Della turned so that they were back to back with Mitch and Renate. No other visitors were in sight. They had a clear view of the longest path in the Conservatory, and there was no one visible.
The clay man from the garden tea tableau burst from among the ferns and palm trees, arms outstretched, his manner unmistakably menacing.
Mitch’s quick reflexes put a hole through the clay man’s chest. The revolver bullet tore through the figure’s clothing and shattered the terra cotta, revealing an empty oval torso. The mannequin kept on coming, undeterred by the gaping opening in his clay body.
“How the hell is that possible?” Mitch grated.
Another figure lumbered through the center display of plantings. This time, it was the woman from the tea scene. Della fired, shattering the clay head, and the rest of the pottery body clattered to the ground and lay still. A moment later, Mitch’s shot exploded the man-figure’s clay skull and the creature fell to the path with the sound of breaking crockery.
“Shoot for the head!” Della snapped, angling for another shot as two more of the clay figures pushed past fronds and large, broad leaves, their flat terra cotta feet smashing flowers and plantings. The three miners from the cactus exhibit closed from one side, while the jungle explorers headed toward them from the other direction.
One window of the glass-walled Conservatory smashed into fragments as two more creatures joined the attack from elsewhere in the large greenhouse. Mitch fired at the safari figures, dropping each with a bullet to the head. Della turned her fire on the newcomers that were crashing their way through the glass wall, while Jacob took careful aim and shot down the clay figures dressed like miners.
From the sound of it, more of the figures were rousing from where they had been displayed elsewhere in the Conservatory. On the other side of the central row of thick plantings, screams rose from the garden ladies.
“Renate! Can you stop them?” Mitch asked.
Renate’s face was taut with concentration. “It’s magic, but not necromancy. Something very strange. I can’t get a fix on where the person is who is making them move. It’s as if the magic’s been activated and now they’re moving on their own.”
“Where’s the puppeteer?” Jacob asked, as his shotgun blew the head and shoulders off a clay figure dressed as a gardener.
“That’s what I’m saying,” Renate snapped. “They’re animating themselves!” She murmured under her breath, her hands tracing patterns in the air. A shimmering veil of light, like a curtain made of fireflies, appeared and surrounded the four of them.
“I can hold them off, but not forever,” Renate warned.
“Can we fire through whatever that is, or will the bullets bounce back?” Della questioned.
“You can fire through. But they can’t get in,” Renate assured her.
“Doesn’t help the other people in the greenhouse,” Jacob said. “We’re going to need to take these things down.” He pumped his shotgun and fired, smashing the head of another crockery monster in a garden party dress and wide-brimmed ladies’ hat.
Renate’s curtain of golden light kept the creatures at bay. Mitch, Della, and Jacob fired again and again, until all of the terra cotta attackers lay shattered on the floor. By that time, sirens sounded in the distance. Several moments passed, and no new monsters emerged from the vegetation. Renate dropped the protective warding, though they all stood on alert.
Renate knelt next to one of the clay creatures. She let her right hand hover over its empty pottery chest. The thing’s head was shattered, butt Renate frowned and withdrew a pair of tweezers from her purse, then reached among the shards to pick up a ripped bit of parchment covered with strange writing.
“Not puppets,” she said, eyes widening as she realized what the paper meant. “They’re golems.”
“Is that a kind of doll?” Mitch asked. Jacob kept watch in one direction as Della remained on alert facing the opposite way, as much to fend off curious onlookers or keep Conservatory staff away as to avoid another attack.
“Not the usual kind,” Renate replied, tucking the paper into a silk drawstring pouch in her purse. Della pointed to several more of the paper slips amid the wreckage, and Renate gathered them as well. “It’s old magic. The spell that animates the golem is placed in its mouth. The creature has its instr
uctions and enough magic to make it move, and it carries out its orders without the person controlling it needing to be nearby.”
“Fill us in later. You’d better get clear,” Mitch said to Renate. “We’ve got badges.” Renate gave a curt nod and headed outside the building through the shattered glass windows. Footsteps were rushing toward them, and across the divide of trees and vegetation, Jacob could hear the garden club ladies recounting their experience to the police.
“No one could have expected that we would come here,” Della said, kicking at the bits of crockery with the toe of her shoe. “So the monsters weren’t meant for us. Then why were they here? Who were they after?”
Mitch looked down at the broken pottery creatures. “Or were they just to supposed to cause a scare?” he asked. “The way Lustig’s ‘monsters’ frightened people out of their money?”
“We’d better find out before more of those things show up,” Jacob warned. “And we also need to discover what happened to those missing mediums. Someone’s got a plan behind all this, and we need to shut that person down—permanently.”
Part Three: Séance
“You’re certain you can speak to my brother’s spirit?” The woman spoke softly, eyes lowered. Her somber dove gray traveling suit suggested that her loss was still fresh. A solidly-built man watched her solicitously, as if she might collapse.
“I’m sure of it.” Clare Monihan was a thin woman with sharp features and intelligent eyes. Her red hair was pulled up into a prim bun atop her head, accenting her angular features to give her a bird-like profile. “I’ve had the gift of ‘Sight’ all my life, and I assure you, I can carry your message to the Beyond and bring back a reply.” She paused. “What was his name?”
“Simon,” Della said, her voice just shy of a sob as she acted her part. “Simon Markham. We lost him so young—”
Grave Voices Page 3