“The decomposition is quite advanced,” she remarked, and Poole, of course, beamed.
“Quite. What interests me, Mistress Chase, is that the deterioration only went so far, then halted.”
Beneath the harsh electric light of Poole’s surgery, Chase’s skin held a greenish cast, which may or not have been due to her aversion to death, but the smooth curve of her cheek and the lovely turn of her lower lip held Talent’s attention. She was whole and well. A spot on his shoulder tingled, and the memory of her mouth there, licking and sucking, lingered.
Suppressing a grunt of irritation, Jack adjusted his stance. “So he was the walking dead. Or is there another point you’re both alluding to?”
Both Poole and Chase peered back at him as if he’d said something rude, and Jack glared. “Were we to spend endless minutes getting around to the fact that these things are part zombie and part machine?”
With exaggerated patience Poole drew the thick examining spectacles he favored from his breast pocket and put them on. “Don’t know why anyone need speak, seeing as you know all,” he muttered, as he picked up a scalpel and bent very close to the crawler. Using the tip of the blade, he peeled back a flap of skin from a cut he’d previously made along the crawler’s thigh. Beside Jack, Chase swayed a bit before steadying. He resisted offering her a hand. She would hate that, and he did not want to touch her, not after last night’s exchange; that had been hard enough to walk away from.
“What I can tell you,” Poole went on in a crisp voice, “if you care to learn anything, is that this fellow was likely dead before these limbs were applied.”
“How can you tell?” Chase’s question was weak, and her gaze darted to the foot of the table.
Poole’s blue eyes were big as moons behind his glasses as he glanced up. “Well, note the way the blood has collected along—”
He broke off when Chase abruptly turned and left the room with haste. Jack watched her go and then forced his attention back to the bodies upon the table. “I’d advise simply stating the facts with Chase next go-round.”
Poole nodded grimly. “Hides it better than Inspector Lane.” There was no judgment in Poole’s voice. Rare was the soul who did not become ill after, or during, a visit to his surgery.
Jack pressed a knuckle to the underside of his chin as he studied the crawler that used to be Mr. Pierce. “And this one?”
Poole assumed his brusque stance. “I do not believe this one was dead before the change. However, look here.” He pointed with his scalpel. “He did not have artificial limbs applied. More like he was becoming metal. It’s as if the gold melded with his flesh.”
Upon close inspection, gold seemed to blend like little gleaming fingers into his decomposing flesh. “Reminds me of ivy,” Jack murmured. “You know, how it will attach to a house and encompass it.”
“Yes, exactly.” Poole shook his head. “Strange business.” He looked particularly gleeful about the notion. Regulators did not call him Poole the Ghoul for no reason.
Jack straightened as Poole sighed. “In all honesty, Master Talent, I suggest you have Mistress Evernight take a look at them. She’s the mechanical expert, after all.”
Mary braced her hand upon the cool plaster wall in a dark corridor off Poole’s gruesome surgery and took another deep breath. Blast it, she could do better than this! How galling that she should lose her composure in front of Talent.
“Are you ready?”
Mary bolted upright at the sound of his deep, smooth voice. Damn that man, but he crept about on cat feet. And damn her for not quite being able to meet his eyes. “Yes.”
Smoothing her skirts, she stood before him. She would not make excuses, but she could not quite find the strength to talk to him either.
Oddly, Talent filled the silence for her. “Here.” He reached out, and she flinched, but with a perfunctory flick of his fingers, he merely tucked in a lock of hair that had dangled over her temple. His expression was grim, almost angry, as if she’d put him out. Another brusque touch at her sleeve straightened her gown where it had bunched. Mary could only gape up at him. And his frown grew. Without a word he turned and crisply walked away.
Mary found herself following.
After a moment he spoke. “We’re headed to Evernight’s laboratory.”
She could feel his gaze running over her.
“I thought she might be able to tell us about the mechanics,” he added, as if chastising her for not asking.
“Yes.” Mary took another breath, hating her embarrassment. “That is a good idea.”
Talent halted with a curse, and Mary stopped too. His eyes narrowed on her. “So help me, Chase, if you grow meek-mouthed on me, I’ll lock you up in the infirmary and have them examine you for madness.” He lifted his large hand in annoyance. “So you have an aversion to dead bodies? Why shouldn’t you? They are foul. Murder is a foul business. If any one of us were in our right minds, we’d be as far away from all this as possible.”
His hard features darkened as he worked himself up. “If you ask me, the ones who are immune to it all are already half dead. Don’t lose what bit of humanity you have, Chase. It makes you better, not weaker. End of discussion. So just… let go of this useless embarrassment, accept this about yourself, and get on with the damn case.”
He stopped there, apparently out of steam from his lecture. And, having no more to say, he crossed his arms in front of him and simply glared.
Mary’s lip twitched. “Lock me in the infirmary. Not bloody likely, Talent. I’d cut your knees out from under you before you took two steps.”
That haughty look he’d perfected grew in intensity. “I wouldn’t lay down a challenge if I were you, Chase. I might just take it up.”
With a sniff she turned on her heel, her step light and brisk, and he followed easily.
“I’m all aquiver.”
His pace missed a beat before he muttered, “I wouldn’t be offering up that information either.”
Holly Evernight’s laboratory was massive, bright and open with a grid of floor-to-ceiling windows. However, as it was also the work place for a host of inventors, the bodies were brought into another room for privacy.
“I’ve secured an area out of the way,” Holly explained as she pushed back a pair of massive oak doors to reveal a cavernous room at the top of the building. Constructed like a greenhouse, the room was comprised entirely of glass-and-iron panels. Sunlight flooded the space, but since it was London, the light was grey and weak. A set of levers, linked to a network of large chains, made it possible to slide the roof open. Mary needn’t wonder for what. She drew to a halt and gaped.
“Is that—?”
Holly stopped beside her and beamed. “A dirigible. Yes.”
Talent whistled long and low as he too took in the sight. “Never seen a model such as that.”
The dirigible was nothing new. In 1883, Mary, along with the rest of London, had read about the Frenchman Gaston Tissandier and the first electric-powered airship. A marvel of modern ingenuity. A year later La France, the first fully controllable airship, made its maiden voyage. Heady times, yet Talent was correct. Those ships had been, in essence, hot-air balloons attached to a motor and pilot’s basket.
What loomed over them was different.
Shaped like an elongated cylinder, the balloon was about one hundred feet long and painted in cloud-like patches of grey and white, much like London’s typical sky. A web of wires hugged the stiff frame of the balloon and attached it to an enclosed pilot’s cabin, also painted shades of grey. Two enormous propellers hung off the back. The whole thing was suspended halfway off the floor by a network of steel girders.
“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to fly,” Mary said before she could think to stop the words.
Talent glanced at her. “Do you not fly in spirit form?”
“Yes,” she said, keeping her eyes upon the airship. “But there is no physical sensation to it. I have my doubts as to whether it woul
d be the same.” She turned to him. “You’ve shifted into a bird before, yes? Is it lovely? To fly?”
His expression was so blank that she knew she’d surprised him. He took a moment before answering. “Yes,” he answered with a breath, “it is lovely.”
She’d thought as much.
Talent turned his attention back to the dirigible. “That is quite an airship, Evernight.”
“It is a semirigid construction,” said Holly proudly, “which allows for strength and lightness of weight. The frame is a steel skeleton under a canvas skin. Not only is it fully maneuverable, but it reaches a top speed of fourteen knots.”
Holly smiled up at the conveyance. “However, that is not what makes it special.” She walked over to a large wooden cabinet fitted with numerous brass dials and knobs. Taking a key from around her neck, Holly slipped it into a slot upon the panel and turned it. Instantly the great airship began to hum, the floor beneath Mary’s booted feet vibrating. And then the very skin of the airship seemed to shimmer before disappearing altogether.
“No need having Londoners see us up in the sky.” Holly gave a nod that spoke of self-satisfaction. “I would explain how the process works, but it would likely bore you to tears.”
This much was true. Shortly after joining the SOS, Mary had become friends with Holly, finding a kinship in their shared social awkwardness. And while Mary enjoyed Holly’s company, hearing her wax on in scientific terms often had Mary’s mind drifting.
“You, Mistress Evernight,” Talent said with one of his rare grins, “are bloody brilliant. Have I ever said?”
Mary could only blink in shock at his effusiveness. Holly, however, appeared accustomed to such praise from him, for she merely nodded, then added briskly, “Despite what you may think, Master Talent, flattery will not get your hands on all my toys.”
That grin stretched, and it twisted something in Mary’s chest. “We shall see, Evernight.”
“If you are through?” Mary snapped.
When they both looked at her in mild surprise, she made a vicious inward curse and modulated her voice. “There is business to attend to.” Which did not include Talent flirting with Holly. They could do that on their own time.
“Of course,” said Holly. “This way.”
In uncomfortable silence they entered a small chamber to the side. Mary braced herself for the inevitable nausea and light-headedness, but was pleased to see that the bodies were tucked inside an alcove where Mary did not have to look at them.
Talent took it upon himself to assist, and, donning thick rubber gloves and a heavy smock, had the grim task of retrieving mechanical devices for Holly to inspect. Grudgingly Mary accepted Talent’s advice and simply waited as far away from the bodies as possible.
“Let’s see now,” said Holly, when they’d finally cleaned off poor Mr. Pierce’s gold heart. “This device is, as far as I can determine, a GIM heart.” Midnight-blue eyes, framed by thick black lashes, turned to look at Mary. “Quite elegant hardware you GIM possess, dearest.” She started to smile, but glanced at Talent, as if just remembering he was there, and a wash of pink touched her cheeks.
Discussion of a GIM’s heart was akin to asking another supernatural what sort of knickers she wore, and everyone in the room understood as much. As for Mary, she refused to look at Talent. True, it was simply her heart Holly had referred to, but it did not quell the feeling that part of her had been mercilessly exposed.
“That is to say,” Holly began awkwardly, “I merely meant…”
“Let us not try to step around the elephant in the room,” Mary said with a small smile in her voice. “Say what you need to say and do not worry about my tender sensibilities.”
Talent moved near, his big body sending a shadow over her as he blocked out one of the electric lights. “Get on with it, Evernight.”
Holly went back to her examination. “This one here”—she pointed to the heart taken from the massive crawler whose identity remained unknown—“is quite interesting. It is close in design to those of the GIM in that one cannot detect a single weld mark and the gears are of a similar style.”
Mary did not want to know how or when Holly had had the chance to inspect GIM hearts.
“However,” said Holly, “unlike the golden heart of the GIM, the material used is an outdated blend of iron.” She picked up a scalpel and scraped along the outer edge of the heart. With her free hand, she pulled on a pair of massive goggles and peered at the fillings. “Yes, you can see it quite well here.”
Talent gave Mary a look clearly stating he’d take Holly’s word on that account. Mary bit the bottom of her lip to keep from smiling back.
Holly lifted her goggles and frowned a bit as she studied the hearts lying side by side.
“Go on, Mistress Evernight,” Talent said, knowing, as most regulators who consulted with Holly did, that she had a propensity for drifting off in mid-thought. “In broad terms, if you please.”
A reluctant amusement glinted in Holly’s eyes. “Very well. The older heart is not as efficient. It is bigger, the gears clumsy and not well designed.” She gestured to the hearts upon her table. “Just look at them side by side. Even a novice should be able to see the difference.”
Mary studied the hearts. “I wonder.… Hmm.”
“Out with it, Chase.” Talent’s hard features were even more so than usual, and she knew suddenly that he wanted to be out and about, searching. A restless soul.
“It simply struck me that, while the older crawler very well could be one of Adam’s early experiments, Mr. Pierce is not. He possesses a GIM heart, yes, but if he were a true GIM, he would not be… well, a veritable physical mess.”
Holly grinned wide. “My thoughts as well. See there.” Her thin, pale finger pointed to the golden GIM heart that had found its way into Mr. Pierce. A thick weld mark ran down the curve along what would be the left ventricle. “It has been repaired.”
A jolt of understanding, and dark dread, went through Mary. “There is a saying, that one must possess a GIM’s soul to possess a GIM’s heart.” She glanced at both Talent and Holly. “If you try to take our heart without earning our soul, our heart will break.”
“Pretty words,” murmured Talent. “But it sounds as though you are suggesting this is more than a bit of poetic fluff.”
“That is exactly what I am suggesting, Master Talent.” She studied the broken heart. “To my knowledge, no one has ever tried to steal a GIM heart until now. Perhaps the heart truly did crack upon theft. In some ways it makes sense. Adam gave us a clockwork heart so that he might control us. I can well imagine him placing that sort of proprietary restriction upon the device.” Mary looked at Holly. “Would the break, and subsequent weld, affect function?”
Holly bent close to the heart, gingerly turning it this way and that. “Given the precision of the design, I should think it highly likely that the break would hinder performance.”
Talent grunted, then tapped his chin with one long finger. “Tell me more about Adam and these crawlers, Chase.”
“There isn’t much in the way of hard facts. These are stories. Before now, I cannot recall anyone having actually seen a crawler. But it is said that they were the very first beings Adam created. Unlike with the GIM, there were no souls waiting to find a new home or for extended life.” Her lips pressed together as a bitter taste flooded her mouth. “It is said that he simply found a dead body and tried to revive it.”
She glance at a horrified Holly and a grim-faced Talent. “Of course the results were disastrous, as the body was nothing more than a mindless machine.” Mary stared at the hearts. “So he found souls to place in them. That too was a failure because the damage was already done to the body.” She grimaced. “If the brain has started to decay, then the body is not a good candidate.”
In the silence she risked a look, not at Talent, but toward Holly. “Now, I do not know if part of his failure was also because the bodies he used for the first ones were demonic, not human. Lo
re says that demons, shifters, and lycans cannot be turned into GIM as their bodies do not accept the invasion of metal within their systems.”
Holly glanced in the direction of where the bodies lay covered with a shroud. “Pierce was a shifter. And the other one, his eyes appear black now. A demon?”
“Looks like it.” Talent turned to Mary. “So Adam turned his focus on fresh human bodies. Irreverent bloke, isn’t he? I’m surprised his primus brethren didn’t come after him for such offenses.”
“Perhaps they tried. All I know is that eventually Adam learned to use more of his magic. Now when he creates a GIM, the heart, our revived health, all of it, occurs with a touch of his hand.”
Talent stared down at the two clockwork hearts. “At the risk of jumping to conclusions, someone else appears to be trying their hand at creation.”
Chapter Ten
Poppy Lane listened to their report without moving. The past two days’ discoveries had pushed their case up to the top of Mother’s priorities, and Poppy called them into her office as soon as they’d finished with Holly. She reclined in her desk chair, her booted feet propped upon the desk, her pale fingers tented beneath her chin. Two years ago, before going off to battle a demon, she’d hacked off her hair. An act that, Mary knew, had left Inspector Lane nearly in tears. Now Mrs. Lane’s growing hair was swept back in a severe, if sparse, bun, leaving her clean profile stark against the dark walls of her office.
“I heard from Lucien this morning,” Mary said. “He remembers releasing one Eugenia White from her contract with the GIM in 1844. She’s had ample opportunity to make a slave pact with someone.” Mary glanced at Talent. He’d been relatively quiet, forgoing even his usual snide remarks. “I gather you found nothing further, Master Talent?”
He stirred, as if the whole business bored him. “No. The only significant difference in the crime is the obvious: it was not Pierce but a raptor demon posing as Pierce.”
Shadowdance: The Darkest London Series: Book 4 Page 10