Off Kilter

by Laura Strickland

  Before she could make sense of the sight, one of Boyd’s minions followed his orders and fired. The blast took Kelly square in the chest and lifted him from his feet. With the grace of a dancer, he tumbled backward and disappeared over the rail.

  “No!” Jamie roared and surged to his feet. He spun to the rail, which caught him in the chest as he leaned over it. For an instant Cat feared he would fall, as well.

  She scrambled up in his wake, feeling his agony precisely as if it were her own. She turned, and her gaze encountered Boyd’s across the smoldering deck with the impact of two swords clashing.

  Rage arose and filled her, bringing victorious strength. At that instant she ceased to be Catherine Delaney and became nothing so much as a force for vengeance. She flew across the deck like a small, fiery missile, her one goal Boyd’s smirking countenance, and struck him in the chest and took him down.

  Colors danced in her vision as she glared into his face, both knees planted on his chest—the red of rage predominant, augmented by flashing orange and black dots that erupted and swam. Her hands came up of their own volition and seized his throat. The smug expression fled his face, replaced by a grimace of fear.

  “Get her off me! Get—” His words became a strangled wheeze. His head had hit the deck hard when Cat bowled him over; now, using strength she’d not suspected she possessed, she tightened her fingers on his flesh and rammed his skull against the steel deck again and again until his eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp beneath her.

  That’s for Becky, she thought as a few stray shreds of sanity returned, and for all the other young girls you’ve harmed, and for Kelly—but most of all for Jamie.

  Upon that thought she spun and looked for him. He’d moved away from the rail, devastation in his eyes. Their gazes met even as the police began to boil over the rails onto the smoking deck. She lifted her hands and reached for him; as if the two of them were alone, he crossed the deck and took her in his arms.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “Tell me everything that happened,” Cat beseeched the man beside her. She remembered too little and far too much; jumbled images, most of them garish, filled her mind like pieces of a nightmare, surely too lurid to be true.

  But now all the noise, the cannon blasts, and the steam had died away into quiet. The only thing of which she could be sure was that she lay wrapped in Jamie’s arms.

  His voice rumbled above her, the very sound of reassurance. “You passed out.”

  “Fainted, you mean? Impossible. I never faint.”

  She fought her way up from her prone position and looked at him. They lay together on a bed in a room lit by a single lamp—night or evening, then—a room she did not immediately recognize.

  She ran her gaze swiftly over Jamie—her Jamie—and blinked in dismay. He lay shirtless in the warm room, all swathed in bandaging. A bulky pad covered his right shoulder and continued part way down his arm. Both hands had been wrapped like the appendages of a mummy, and the entire right side of his face lay hidden beneath a white mask.

  He looked so very different with the mangled side of his face covered. His auburn hair tumbled down the other side, emphasizing the strong lines of his cheekbone and nose. She realized she saw him as close as ever she would to how he should have looked, had he never been burned.

  And he was handsome.

  Her eyes filled with tears, and he started up, looking alarmed. “What is it?”

  “I—” But she couldn’t say the words, couldn’t tell him how she wished he could have the face with which he’d been born. He’d take it the wrong way, wouldn’t understand she wished it for his sake and not her own. Because she loved him as he was. She did, eternally.

  “Here, stop crying.” He tried to reach for her with his bandaged hands, and she raised her fingers to her own cheeks, surprised to find tears falling.

  “Reaction,” he said softly and drew her clumsily against his bare shoulder, where she inhaled the marvelous and beloved scent of him. “You aren’t hurt, you know, save for some scrapes and a lot of bruises. Exactly what do you remember?”

  “I’m not sure.” She selected one question from the dozens clamoring for her attention. “Is Boyd dead?”

  “No, but you did a job on him, didn’t you, there on the deck? He’s in police custody and will stand trial on a list of counts. They’re still preparing the charge sheet.”

  And Becky?”

  “In hospital, getting patched up. Her injuries aren’t serious, and she’ll be brought here just as soon as she’s released.”

  “Where’s ‘here’?”

  “We’re back at Mrs. McMahon’s. Don’t you know the place?”

  Cat blinked again, and things shifted in her mind so she did. “Jamie, I seem to have lost a bit of my hold on reality. Have you ever wondered if the world and everything in it is only here because we all hold fiercely to a picture we’ve made of it?”

  “Yes,” he said gravely. “I’ve thought that.”

  “Because if you let go of that picture, you can see it’s all a kind of image held up to a mirror.” She shivered. “Makes you wonder what’s actually real, doesn’t it?”

  “I’m not sure there is a ‘real’ the way you mean it.”

  “Am I losing my mind?”

  “Catherine, look at me.”

  From two inches away, she did. His eyes, deep blue, looked rational and sane. “Go easy on yourself, love. You took a couple big hits, what with the resurrection and what happened on the airship.”

  “What did happen on the airship?”

  “You went a little bit out of your head.”

  “I went off kilter,” she corrected him softly. “I understand now, Jamie.”

  “Do you?”

  “It felt so powerful, and so terrible. We’re linked, aren’t we? You and me.”

  “It seems so.”

  “And that means we should be together always. Tell me, after all that’s happened, we will be.”

  He hesitated, the thoughts visible in his eyes. Cat knew what she wanted him to say: she wanted him to offer her his life, marriage, eternity. Nothing else would do for her.

  But he didn’t speak the words, and so she kissed him.

  Warm, dizzying sweetness rushed upon her from the place their lips met. Her heart rose, and her emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

  If he wouldn’t say the words, she would. She drew her mouth from his and breathed, “Marry me, Jamie Kilter.”

  “Ah, God!” His eyes grew dark, and he caught her between his bandaged hands. “You don’t want me. You can’t want me; not that way.”

  “You’re all I want. And if you insist what I feel is a product of my resurrection, I will bop you on that rock-hard head of yours. You know better. You felt what I felt on the airship.”

  “I felt it.”

  “Then what else is there but that we join our lives?”

  “Catherine, you’ve seen the man I am.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen.” Her heart beat faster, for she adored that man.

  “I have little to offer a woman like you. I’m a pariah in this city; I’ve a job only by the grace of Tate Murphy. No real prospects—”

  “I don’t want prospects; I want you. Besides, who exactly is ‘a woman like’ me? I was sold by my stepfather. My own mother didn’t fight to protect me.”

  “Better than being accused of killing your mother.” Agony flooded his eyes. “You know that’s what they say of me.”

  “And I know it’s not true.”

  “How can you be sure? You have no proof, only what I’ve told you.”

  “And I believe what you’ve told me, because I’ve learned all about the man you are. I’ve watched you with those dogs—yes, Jamie, most of it has come back to me now, so you can’t say I don’t remember what I’ve seen. You only fight on behalf of those who can’t fight for themselves. And you’d die before you hurt those you love.”

  “I did love my ma, you know.” His face contorted. �
�I hated her too, sometimes, and I hate what she’s left me—this awful ability to go off kilter.”

  Cat’s heart swelled with sympathy. “I’m aware of that also—you don’t even have to say.”

  “I do, Catherine, because you declare you want to marry me. Marry me. And you need to know what kind of bargain you’d be getting. I sometimes wonder if my ma didn’t go off kilter when she beat us. And I wouldn’t see you tied to a man who carries that tendency. I’ve already tainted you by sending you off your head against Boyd.”

  “Boyd invited that. And give me some credit. I attacked him because of what he was—a true monster. And because of how he hurt Becky, and you. If we don’t stand up and fight for those we love, who will? Answer me that.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can’t because there is no answer.”

  “Well, what about this?” He gestured to the bandaged side of his face. “It looked bad enough before. The doc Mrs. McMahon called in said he couldn’t guarantee good results with any healing.”

  “You’re not hearing me, James Kilter. I want you, understand? The warm, courageous, and loving man you are inside, regardless of the shell you may wear. And you are going to marry me as soon as possible, understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jamie said, light flaring in his eyes.

  “Now kiss me, and I don’t want to hear any more nonsense.”

  ****

  “I have news.” Brendan Fagan stood in Mrs. McMahon’s parlor with his uniform hat in his hands and Tate Murphy at his side. Fagan wore a scattering of bandages as well as assorted abrasions. At one temple, his hair had been scorched away.

  Been through the wars, haven’t we? James thought. Yet Fagan’s blue gaze remained honest and unswerving.

  “Tell us,” James bade. He glanced at Tate, but his friend appeared completely distracted from business by the presence of Nancy McMahon, who had shown them in. A look passed between the two of them, so hot the air virtually sizzled.

  Well, well, James thought. About time Tate found a woman—just like me.

  He tightened his fingers on Catherine’s and focused on Fagan again. “Good news, or bad?”

  “I’d say a bit of both. Sebastian Boyd was brought up this morning on a long list of charges. He’ll get prison, and no mistake. When he’s done with us he’ll face the Toronto constabulary, who have their own list.”

  “Good,” Catherine said and took a step closer to James so her side pressed against his. “And my sister?”

  Fagan smiled. “A spunky lass, I have to say. She will probably be released from the hospital within the hour. If you do not mind me saying, Miss Delaney, that’s where you should be—in hospital, I mean.”

  “I’ll not leave Jamie.”

  “Fine, that; he should be there also. But leave it for now. Your sister says she does not wish to return to Toronto. Would you be willing to assume responsibility for her?”

  “Of course.” Catherine lifted her head. “We’ll be getting married as soon as possible, and can offer her a home.”

  James clenched her fingers in his. A home? Where? She knew he lived above Tate’s office and barely scraped by.

  Brendan Fagan raised his eyebrows and gave James a searching look. “My felicitations. You’re a lucky man.”

  “Don’t I know it,” James agreed. “What about my charges?”

  “Well, about that—in all the confusion you missed your last court date. I’ve rescheduled that, and I think we can get you off with a warning or two. Right, Murphy?”

  Tate came to himself with a start and dragged his gaze from Nancy McMahon’s radiant face.

  “Aye, lad. There’ll be a fine, of course. You’ll owe me.”

  James slumped where he stood.

  “Sure,” Tate twinkled at him, “and I could consider it a wedding present.”

  “And then there’s the other news,” Fagan said, and cleared his throat. “Bit of a stunner, actually.”

  He gestured to Nancy, who smiled and opened the parlor door.

  In stepped Patrick Kelly.

  James nearly fell down. Like the rest of them, Kelly looked the worse for wear; here and there patches of his skin had burned away, revealing the underlying metal frame. In other places great seams and tears had been sewed up with visible stitches. As he advanced into the room, he came with a limp on his left side and an audible click when he moved that leg. But his green eyes looked bright and, against all odds, serene.

  “Kelly!” James exclaimed in gladness. “I thought you dead for sure. We saw you go over the side and into the falls!”

  “Hello, friend.” Kelly stretched his lips in a somewhat lopsided smile. He leaned forward with a slight whirring sound and shook James’ hand. “That turned out to be a wild ride. I went over the cataract, made contact with several large boulders on the way, and plunged into the gorge below. It put out the fire in my boiler, but as you can see it didn’t kill me.”

  “I’m very glad.” Abruptly, James’ throat closed. With some difficulty, he said, “You sacrificed yourself for us.”

  “That is what friends do, lad.”

  “If there’s ever anything I can do for you in return, it’s yours.”

  Kelly’s grin widened. “I have very good auditory perception,” he announced. “And while waiting outside that door, I couldn’t help but overhear you say there’s going to be a wedding.” He gave Catherine a wink. “Any chance I might serve as best man?”

  James smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Epilog

  From where she stood in the bedroom, Cat could hear church bells ringing, the sound tumbling through the open windows from further down the street.

  She looked at herself in the glass critically.

  “I still think I look like a boy, or a little girl.” She’d borrowed the dress she now wore, since she seemed to possess nothing of her own save Jamie Kilter, and she didn’t plan on giving him back. But during the three intervening weeks her hair had not grown very much, and she looked far too pale and scrawny. The fashionable young woman with whom Jamie had fallen in love had disappeared for good.

  “You look beautiful. Here, put this on.” Her sister, Becky, clasped a locket around her neck.

  Cat started. “This is Mother’s.”

  “I know. She sent it as soon as she heard you were to wed.” Becky’s eyes met Cat’s in the glass. “She said she’d rather come herself but was indisposed.”

  “Indisposed,” Cat repeated. Their mother had frequently employed that word when she found herself overwhelmed and unable to stand up for her daughters. Some things, it seemed, never changed.

  No matter. Cat didn’t really want to see her mother anyway. Many hurdles, including several postponed court appearances, still remained, but she wanted to turn her gaze forward to a new life with the man she loved.

  “I’m just glad you’re here,” she told Becky. “But I thought it would be a small, private ceremony. This whole event has gotten out of hand.”

  Becky smiled. With the resilience she and Cat seemed to share, she had come through her ordeal at Boyd’s hands somewhat wounded in spirit, but stronger. At least, as Becky had confided to Cat when they were alone together, Boyd had not demanded the ultimate of her, so the memory of terror was the worst she had to bear. Cat experienced a stab of pride. What a fine woman her little sister would be.

  “The best man took over the planning—and he outdid himself,” Becky said. “A church full of guests and, I hear, a fine reception afterwards.”

  Kelly had, indeed, proved a fine and fierce friend.

  “I also hear,” Becky went on, “there are a few surprises planned for afterwards.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say, but prepare yourself for a ride around the city and a full police squad salute.”

  “Well”—Cat gusted out a breath—“that’s not so bad.”

  A knock sounded at the door. Becky hurried to answer it while Cat stood gazing
at herself, her heart beating much too hard.

  “No,” Cat heard her sister say. “You can’t see her before the ceremony. It’s bad luck.”

  “Just for a moment.” Jamie’s voice. Cat’s pulse leaped, and she bade her sister, “Let him in.”

  “But Cat!”

  “It doesn’t matter, Becky. I’m hoping we’ve had all our bad luck.”

  Becky opened the door, and Jamie stepped in. Becky slipped out behind him, leaving them alone.

  Cat turned from the glass; she and Jamie gazed at one another. How tall and broad he looked, all got up in a fine suit of black broadcloth with tails. She wondered if Patrick Kelly had procured it for him. The automaton seemed to have very definite ideas about how a wedding should be.

  She raised her eyes to Jamie’s, and her breath caught. “Not having second thoughts, are you?”

  “I wondered if you were.”

  “Not a chance. I’m marrying you today, Jamie Kilter.”

  He took a step toward her, halted, and cleared his throat. “I’ve been talking to Kelly,” he said.

  “He talks a lot, for an automaton.”

  “That’s because, above and beyond an automaton, he’s an Irishman. You know, I always thought Tate a great friend to me, and he is.”

  “Yes, a rock.”

  “But Patrick Kelly looks to prove even better. Catherine, he’s procured a property for us.”

  “He has! What kind of property?”

  “On Niagara Street, just down from Tate’s. It’s been repossessed by the city for some reason, and Kelly put his own money down on it.” Jamie looked perplexed. “Says he doesn’t know what to do with his money anyway.”

  “A house?”

  “Not exactly. Seems at one time it was a trading office. There’s a big space out back where a warehouse used to be. Kelly thinks it would be perfect for a new kennel. He says I—we—should set up a refuge there for abused animals, like what’s at Tate’s only much bigger. That is, if you like the idea.”