To Catch a Queen

by Shanna Swendson

  “Hey, miss!” a voice behind me said, and I turned cautiously. A newsboy stood nearby, a stack of papers at his feet and several held so he could display the headlines to passersby. The banner at the top declared it to be the World, a newspaper with which I was unfamiliar. He wore a flat cap pulled low over his forehead. Dark hair straggled past his collar in the back, and his thin face was smeared with ink and dirt.

  He gave me a cheeky wink as he raised the papers he held and shouted to a passing man, “Parliament renews the colonial tax act! Straight off the ether from London! How will it really affect us? You won’t read the truth anywhere else!” The man tossed him a coin, which he deftly caught while handing over a copy of the paper. The customer folded the paper and tucked it inside the breast of his coat as he walked away. When the customer was gone, the boy said, “You’re tryin’ to get up to magpie land by the park?”

  I assumed that “magpie” was his slang term for the magisters. “Yes, I am.”

  “What would you wanna do that for?”

  “I have an interview for a position as governess.”

  He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You want to work for the magpies?”

  “I want to work for someone who will hire me.” I couldn’t help but allow my discouragement to creep into my voice. “Now I suppose I had better start walking or I’ll be late for my interview.”

  “Don’t go just yet.” He glanced around, then gestured for me to come closer. “You can get a ride from here if you wait. Some friends of mine’ll be along any minute now.” He flicked a small gear wheel with a red ribbon tied through it that was pinned to his oversize coat and waggled his eyebrows like he was conveying some hidden meaning. I wasn’t sure what the significance of the gear was, but I nodded as though I understood. “Ah, I had you figured for one of us,” he said with a grin. He stuck out a hand blackened with newspaper ink. “The name’s Nat.”

  I shook his hand, grateful that I’d worn black gloves instead of white. “And I’m Verity.”

  A shrill whistle rent the air, and Nat gave a satisfied nod. “Here they come, right on time. Wait’ll you see this, Verity.”

  With a screech and a shudder, an enormous metal contraption lumbered to a stop beside us. A horizontal cylinder on huge spoked wheels belched smoke from a chimney on top, and steam billowed from vents on the sides. Two men rode on the machine, one steering while the other monitored a series of gauges. An omnibus like the horse-drawn one was hitched to this monstrosity.

  Nat rushed forward and called out to the man studying the gauges. “Hey, Alec! I’ve got a friend here who needs a lift to magpie land. You can take her, can’t you? You’re goin’ that way anyhow.”

  I couldn’t see Alec’s reaction because a large pair of brass goggles obscured most of his face and his attention was focused on his device. “We might not be stopping when we’re there,” he said as he worked.

  A head in a bowler hat emerged from the doorway of the bus. “Did you say this charming young lady needs a ride?” The speaker swept the hat off his head, revealing a shock of bright red hair and a young face spattered with freckles.

  “I need to get to Seventy-Seventh Street,” I said shakily, wondering if perhaps I’d fallen asleep on the train and had dreamed everything from the robbery until now. This was all so very strange.

  Nat added, “Verity’s tryin’ to be a governess, and she’s gonna be late for her interview.”

  The red-haired young man gave me a look of theatrically exaggerated pity and held his hat against his heart. “Oh, you poor dear. You’re too pretty to be a governess. Ah, but I suppose you’re the independent type and won’t settle for letting a man take care of you.”

  I couldn’t help but smile, and I felt my cheeks warm in a furious blush. I’d never in my life been called pretty. I was admired for my cleverness rather than my appearance. I suspected he was what romantic novels called a flirt, but I didn’t think he meant any harm, even if he didn’t mean what he said. “You flatter me,” I said. “I have no choice but to make my own way in the world.”

  With a saucy wink he replied, “Well, if you change your mind about finding a man to take care of you, let me know, and I’ll submit my application. The name’s Colin Flynn, and if ever you want me just ask around, and I’ll be there.”

  While we were talking, a few people who had been milling around on the sidewalk approached the bus. Colin replaced his hat on his head and stepped down. “One at a time, people!” he called out, his tone switching from flirt to officious conductor. “All aboard for a voyage into the future.”

  As the people stepped up to Colin, they each flicked something on their lapels. A closer study revealed that they were gears on red ribbons, like the one Nat wore. Colin also wore one on the breast of his frayed morning coat, but his gear was much larger and his ribbon much wider. When all the passengers had boarded, Colin turned to address the man tinkering with the gauges. “Have you got Bessie all stoked up, Alec?”

  “One minute more, Colin. Look out for some competition.”

  Colin returned his attention to me. “And now, if you will step aboard my humble conveyance, we will take you on a journey you won’t soon forget.”

  “How much is the fare?” I asked.

  “Today we’re offering a complimentary demonstration run. It’s an experimental project. We’re engineering students at the university.”

  I hesitated. I needed reliable transportation, not an experiment. “That’s very kind of you—” I began, but Nat grabbed my arm.

  “Go on, Verity. Trust me. Bessie’ll get you there.”

  “I assure you, it’s quite safe,” Colin added. “All the explosions happened in the lab. We’ve had no trouble with the full-size model.”

  The idea of explosions wasn’t very reassuring, but I didn’t know how else I would make it to my interview on time, and I had to get this job. “Very well, then,” I said as firmly as I could manage, in spite of my misgivings. “I accept your kind offer of transportation.”

  He grinned, sweeping his hat off his head and giving me a gallant bow. “Welcome aboard, Verity. And be prepared to make history.”

  Colin seated me at the front of the bus, next to a girl about my age. “This is Verity,” he said to her. “Look after her.” To me, he added, “This is my sister, Lizzie. Pinch her if she gives you any trouble.”

  “Ignore him, I always do,” she said with an air of much-tested patience. She shared her brother’s bright hair, freckles, and lanky build. A notebook rested on her knee, and she held a pencil. Another pencil was stuck behind her ear.

  Most of the other passengers on the crowded bus were young men, and the few women were not at all what my mother would have considered proper ladies. They wore the wildest clothing, a mix of pieces that seemed as though they’d dug them from a rag pile with their eyes closed and then dressed in the dark. The men mixed formal wear with working attire, and some of the women wore their elaborately decorated corsets outside their blouses. A few of them wore skirts that fell well above their ankles. There was one woman near the back of the bus who looked out of place in the dull black of a widow in deepest mourning, with a black veil obscuring her face.

  The engine made louder sounds, and more steam and smoke billowed from it – so much that I feared it would explode. Alec patted the man at the controls on the shoulder, then tapped on the front window to signal Colin. Colin acknowledged him with a nod, secured his hat on his head, and pulled a pair of goggles from his hat brim down over his eyes. He shut the door, then turned to face his passengers. “Ladies and gentlemen – and the rest of you lot,” he shouted above the rumble of the engine. “We are about to embark on a great venture, one that will prove us to be the equal of any thieving magpie. What they do with magic, we have built with our own ingenuity. They think to shut us out of their districts with their laws, but this bus violates no law – yet. I’m sure they’ll think of something after today.” The passengers chuckled, and one or two shouted obscenities coars
e enough to make me gasp.

  “If there was any doubt as to why we do this, look to our guest.” He pointed at me, and my skin prickled as I sensed every eye on the bus focusing on me. “This young lady here is the perfect example of our cause. She seeks honest employment at a home in magpie land, but how is she to get there for the interview? The cabs that can go there are too expensive for common folk, and the buses that do convey the common folk aren’t allowed to violate their precious streets because they’re drawn by horses. This is why we’ve devoted our knowledge and skills toward this momentous day, creating an engine powerful enough to pull a bus without being powered by magic. Now, hang on to your seats, because here we go!”

  The engine grew even louder, making chug-chug sounds. After a long, piercing blast of the whistle, the engine strained forward, dragging the bus with it. At first it crept, as though moving was a struggle, but then it built momentum. The bus drew up alongside a magical carriage that had the coat of arms of a noble house painted on its door and a driver in livery seated in front. It looked like the passenger compartment was empty. Colin leaned out the bus window and called, “Nice toy you have there. Do you know what it can do?”

  The driver turned to look at the engine and the bus, and his eyes grew wide. “What the blazes is that?” he shouted back at Colin.

  Colin cued Alec, who pulled a cord, making the whistle sound a shrill blast. The engine moved a little faster, pulling ahead of the carriage. “This is the machine that’ll leave your magical toy in the dust,” Colin shouted with a laugh. The other young men on the bus joined in with raucous catcalls at the carriage. The driver glared at them, then furrowed his brow and moved a lever, and the carriage increased its speed. The engine soon responded, going ever faster. Colin leaned out the window, thumbed his nose at the driver, and said, “What’s the matter, think your master’ll turn you into a frog if you actually drive that thing? Or were you a frog to begin with, and he turned you into his driver?” I saw a flash of fury on the driver’s face, and the race was on.

  The noise was deafening. The engine chugged and puffed and made a great rumbling roar. The bus moaned and creaked alarmingly. I suspected it had not been designed for such speed. Every so often, it bounced when the wheels hit an obstacle, and there was a constant vibration from the paving bricks. Next to me, Lizzie wrote in her notebook, and I wondered how she could manage while being jostled so badly.

  As we rattled our way up Fifth Avenue, crowds gathered on the sidewalks. Most merely gazed in curiosity, but there were also cheers as we passed. I was both terrified and exhilarated. Carriages on the cross streets barely stopped in time when the bus plowed through intersections. The bus swayed side to side as it wove its way around slower vehicles. The magical carriage kept up, with the bus occasionally pulling ahead before the carriage caught up again. In the brief moments when we were neck and neck, I saw that the carriage driver was focused intently, a look of sheer determination on his face. Alec and the other man on the engine made frantic adjustments, pulling levers and shoveling coal into what looked like a furnace.

  Colin stood at the front of the bus, surprisingly steady on his feet. He sang at the top of his lungs in a strong Irish tenor, “‘Yankee Doodle went to town, riding a steam pony. Led the magpies on a chase and made them look like phonies.’”

  The rest of the passengers joined in the chorus, singing, “‘Yankee Doodle keep it up, Yankee Doodle dandy. Fight the magic and the Brits, and with machines be handy.’”

  My blood ran cold as the meaning of their song struck me and I realized amongst whom I’d fallen. These were the infamous Rebel Mechanics, the underground group that wanted to use machines to overthrow the magical ruling class and break the American colonies away from Great Britain. Just being with them would be considered treason.

  My heart racing with the awareness of where I was, I turned to Lizzie and shouted over the noise of the engine and the bus wheels clattering on the pavement, “You’re rebels?”

  She gave me a reassuring smile. “There is nothing treasonous about what we’re doing here. Do you think this is wrong?”

  I honestly didn’t know what to think. I’d heard rumors about this group in New Haven, where some university students had supported the cause, but my father hadn’t taken the rebels seriously. He’d said it was merely young men being foolish. I didn’t think it wise to say this while I was at their mercy. “We are perhaps going a trifle fast for safety,” I suggested, holding my bag with one hand while I gripped the edge of my seat with the other.

  She laughed. “Yes, I suppose we are, but we’re merely proving that this machine is as good as any magical engine. Usually we’d travel at a more reasonable speed.”

  There was a shout from the back of the bus, and I looked over my shoulder to see a man positioned at the rear window waving frantically. Colin noticed the gesture, stopped singing, and nodded. Then he leaned out the front window and signaled Alec, who frowned and adjusted a lever. The bus picked up speed, making even more alarming noises. I was afraid it would fall apart around us. “What’s happening?” I asked Lizzie.

  “The police are giving chase. You were right about us going too fast.”

  “The police?” I squeaked in horror. With a criminal record, I could never find a position in a good home. I wondered if the authorities would believe this band of dangerous rebels had kidnapped me.

  I glanced anxiously over my shoulder again and saw the rear lookouts grinning broadly. “They’ve given up!” one shouted. Colin raised his arms over his head in triumph.

  His sister shook her head. “They’ll signal ahead and cut us off!” she warned. “We should stop now!”

  “The race is still on!” he cried out. “We don’t stop until we’ve won!”

  **

  Rebel Mechanics, coming July 14, 2015 from Farrar, Straus and Giroux Books for Young Readers.

  About The Author

  Shanna Swendson is the author of the Enchanted Inc. series of humorous contemporary fantasy novels, including Enchanted, Inc., Once Upon Stilettos, Damsel Under Stress, Don’t Hex with Texas, Much Ado About Magic, No Quest For The Wicked, and Kiss and Spell. She’s also contributed essays to a number of books on pop culture topics, including Everything I Needed to Know About Being a Girl, I Learned from Judy Blume, Serenity Found, Perfectly Plum and So Say We All. When she’s not writing, she’s usually discussing books and television on the Internet, singing in or directing choirs, taking ballet classes or attempting to learn Italian cooking. She lives in Irving, Texas, with several hardy houseplants and a lot of books.

  Visit Shanna’s Website at http://shannaswendson.com.

  Like Shanna’s Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/shanna.swendson.

  Also by Shanna Swendson

  Books in the Fairy Tale Series

  A Fairy Tale

  To Catch a Queen

  Books in the Enchanted, Inc. Series:

  Enchanted, Inc.

  Once Upon Stilettos

  Damsel Under Stress

  Don’t Hex With Texas

  Much Ado About Magic

  No Quest For The Wicked

  Kiss and Spell

  Coming July 2015

  Rebel Mechanics

  TO CATCH A QUEEN

  Shanna Swendson

  Copyright © 2015

  All Rights Reserved.

  978-1-62051-138-1

  AGENCY INFORMATION

  NLA Digital LLC

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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