Tainted (The Soul Chronicles Book 1)

by Morgan L. Busse

  “Run? Why?”

  Kat sucked in her lips and shook her head. “I don’t know, other than that Ms. Stuart believed I was in danger. I don’t think she thought they would hurt her. She told me to run, so I went out the back and past the yard. All night I made my way through World City to your office. The last thing she told me was to find you and get your help.”

  “What help? You mean finding that Dr. Latimer?”

  “Yes.”

  “But what does that have to do with her death? Who would want to kill her?”

  Kat looked down at her fingers. “Mr. Grey—”

  “Stephen.”

  She let out her breath. “There are things you don’t know about my father, things he has done in the name of science.”

  Stephen’s eyes widened. “You think your father had something to do with my aunt’s murder?” His mind tried to wrap around that fact and failed. Why would Dr. Bloodmayne kill his own housekeeper? Unless . . .

  It was to silence her.

  He clenched his hands and his nostrils flared. Slow down, Grey. You’re jumping to conclusions without the facts.

  Kat shrugged and gripped her arms in front of her. “I don’t know anything right now. Other than I’m not safe.”

  There were so many dots, but none of them formed a picture. Kat’s search for a doctor, her mysterious condition, his aunt’s death and her connection with Kat. And now Kat’s cryptic words about her father, Dr. Bloodmayne.

  His head gave another hard throb. Blazes! It made no sense. And his grief was making it hard for him to think clearly.

  Something moved beyond the fence. His hand went to his gun and he scanned the trees.

  They were not alone.

  Two men stood just beyond the shadows.

  At the same moment, the minister came walking around the church corner.

  Kat caught sight of the minister and grabbed her skirt as if to run. “I need to go.” She started in the opposite direction from the church, toward the gate at the other end of the cemetery. A couple of ravens cawed and fluttered up into the trees.

  “Wait, Kat.”

  She ignored him.

  Stephen caught up to her while keeping an eye to the left where the men stood beneath the trees. “None of this makes sense. However, if you’re in danger, I will help you.” Especially if my aunt thought you were and gave her life to save you. “And I want to find my aunt’s killer. I think the two are connected.”

  Kat didn’t say anything. She kept right on walking, following the path between the gravestones. Apparently she hadn’t noticed the men.

  “Where are you going?”

  She glanced at him. “I’ve been staying at an inn down in Banther. But I can’t linger long. I need to keep moving.” She looked back. “The sooner I find Dr. Latimer, the better.”

  “And you won’t tell me what’s wrong with you?” Stephen was certain it was a vital piece to this whole mystery. “Or who might be after you?”

  “It is better if you don’t know.”

  “Why?”

  She pressed her lips into a firm line and kept on walking.

  “So you won’t tell me?”

  Kat looked over at him. “Please don’t make me. The one person who knew is now dead.” Her chin trembled. “I don’t want you to die as well.”

  Stephen slowed and Kat pulled ahead. The look on her face—if he pressed her, it would be akin to torture.

  But what if she had vital information? He hurried forward. No, she did have vital information, information she was withholding. Information that might explain why his aunt had died.

  The bounty hunter inside him wanted to press Kat and get answers, no matter the cost. However, the shadow of the man he had once been stopped him. He would not torment an already grieving woman. He would just have to wait for her to open up.

  They reached the fence.

  Kat spun around. “So will you still help me?”

  Stephen stopped and stared into her face. Could he help Kat without having all the facts? Was he comfortable with that?

  Did his aunt really die to save this young woman?

  If so, then he knew what he needed to do. It was the least he could do for Aunt Milly.

  “Yes, I’ll help you. But I’m not going to let you return to that inn down in Banther.”

  “Why?”

  He nodded toward the trees. “Because you’re being followed.’”

  17

  Kat felt numb all over. This couldn’t be real—none of it. Only a week ago she was taking her finals and chatting with Marianne.

  Now she was on the run and Ms. Stuart was dead.

  She glanced back as Stephen stopped beside the street beyond the cemetery and motioned for an empty cab clattering by. Where were the men Stephen had seen? The trees were empty. So was the cemetery. Kat shivered and turned back.

  The carriage was small, barely large enough to fit two passengers. The driver stopped and Stephen opened the door.

  As Kat lifted her skirt and stepped in, she overheard Stephen tell the driver to head toward Samford Street. She took a seat to the far right and Stephen climbed in behind her.

  Stephen shut the door and sat back into the seat. The cab started with a lurch, then settled into a comfortable bounce. There was hardly any space between them and twice his knee knocked into hers.

  The wind and rain intensified outside the windows, and Kat held her hands together on her lap to keep them warm.

  After ten minutes, they turned onto Samford Street.

  Stephen glanced at Kat. “Stay here. I’m going to get a few things from my office, and then we’ll be on our way.”

  Kat nodded. She doubted she could say anything, even if she wanted to.

  Stephen left the cab and hurried inside the three-story brick building.

  The horse neighed and shook its head.

  Minutes ticked by before Stephen emerged again and got back into the cab.

  “To the rail station,” he told the cab driver.

  Rail station?

  The cab lurched forward and Kat grabbed the window sill to steady herself. “Where are we going?”

  “South, to the coast. I had two more contacts I wanted to connect with before I learned of my aunt’s death.” He handed her a handkerchief. “Here. You have dirt on your face. I thought you might want to clean up a bit.”

  Kat flushed but took the damp cloth. “Shouldn’t I get my things from the inn?”

  “No. We can’t take the chance that someone is watching the inn.”

  She wiped her face a couple of times, then placed the cloth down. “Do you think we lost whoever was following us?”

  “I’m not sure.” Stephen didn’t say anything more. Instead, he looked out the window.

  She sat back. She was a hunted woman now. Maybe she should just turn herself in. After all, it was her fault Ms. Stuart had died. Ms. Stuart had kept her safe and then paid with her life.

  I should have died in her place. I was the one who set the fire. The look on Marianne’s face that night flashed across her mind, and her stomach twisted inside her.

  I am a monster. And I must never forget that.

  Never.

  The cab came to a stop beside the local rail station, a small brick building beside a double set of tracks. People bustled along the platform between the building and tracks.

  Stephen helped Kat exit the cab as, far off, a train whistle blew and the crowd on the platform grew excited. Stephen let go of her hand and pulled a small wad of bills from his trouser pocket to pay the driver.

  Kat reached for the small pouch deep in the pocket of her skirt. She should give him something for the fare. Before she could pull it out, Stephen was heading toward the ticket window.

  “Two tickets to Covenshire.”

&
nbsp; “You’re just in time, son,” said the man behind the window. He pulled on the ticket wheel and tore off two tickets, then filled in the spaces with slow, careful handwriting. The whistle sounded again. “That’s the train for Covenshire now.” He took the bills from Stephen and counted them twice before handing Stephen the tickets.

  A train came rolling in with puffs of steam and a couple of whistles. Kat raised her hands to cover her ears when the wheels squealed under the brakes as the train came to a stop in front of the platform.

  “This way.” Stephen grabbed her hand and weaved through the crowd, his fingers strong and warm against hers.

  Kat caught the glances from the people around her and blushed. She tugged, but Stephen did not let go. Instead, he gripped even tighter.

  There were shouts and greetings around them as people embraced and chatted loudly. Trunks and carpetbags were placed on the platform, and men in navy blue uniforms scurried to make the exchange of passengers.

  Stephen led her to the first car, all the while glancing around. Were they being followed again?

  Kat looked around as well, then almost fell when he pulled her into the car. Up the stairs she went and to the left. Rows of red velvet seats lined either side of the narrow walkway and hint of pipe smoke hung in the air.

  Stephen dropped her hand. “Kat, I want you next to the window on the right, away from the platform.”

  She nodded and scooted into the first available row. From where she sat, she could hear but no longer see the people bustling around outside on the platform.

  Stephen sat down next to her and removed his hat. His wheat blonde hair was swept back and fell across his collar. He patted the lumps on either side of his hips and looked satisfied. It took her a moment to realize they were probably his guns.

  She leaned toward him. “Are we safe here?”

  He turned and looked at her, his face inches from hers. There were specks of yellow inside his hazel-green eyes and a few gray hairs in his mustache. His eyes dilated, then contracted. “We are safe enough.”

  Kat backed away, her heart thudding oddly inside her chest. “All right.” Her cheeks were still warm from minutes ago. She pressed a cold hand against her face and looked out the window.

  People filed into the car and filled the rows. She watched an older couple sit down in front of them, the man gently fussing over his wife until she shooed him away in loving exasperation. Kat smiled, brief and wistful.

  She glanced at the man beside her. Though Stephen barely moved his head, she could tell he kept tabs on everyone who boarded, weighing each as a possible threat.

  How different her situation, how desperate.

  The numbness returned like a hole opening inside her chest, sucking away emotion and thought. As the train pulled from the station, buildings slid by and the feeling intensified. She had never left this part of World City before. All of her life she had spent here, on the northern side of the river, traveling between her home, a few shops, and the Tower.

  Now she was leaving it all behind, and with a man she hardly knew.

  You can trust my nephew. Some of Ms. Stuart’s last words to her. But she’d also told Kat not to reveal her secret, and for good reason. Kat was sure it was what had gotten Ms. Stuart killed.

  Too many people knew she had set the fire at the gala. She wanted to believe Marianne wouldn’t have told, but that still left Blaylock and the other young men. Kat swallowed. They must have talked. But to whom? Who was after her? And willing to kill to get to her?

  Kat watched the scenery outside as the train passed buildings and factories, everything sodden and gray.

  They zipped by a church. She kept her gaze on the whitewashed building until it drew out of sight, then sat back. She knew very little about God, other than that he lived in churches or something. And he was powerful.

  She needed someone powerful right now. But how did one talk to God?

  God?

  She glanced around, half expecting people to hear her thoughts. But no one looked her way, and Stephen seemed focused on something at the front of the train.

  God, if you’re real, please help me. Kat twisted her fingers together and looked out the window. Please.

  Nothing happened. No lightning, no flashes of light.

  Kat sat back and swallowed. Maybe she was alone. After all, why would God help a monster?

  An hour into the train ride, Stephen looked over to find Kat had fallen asleep. The telltale streaks across her face revealed she had been crying quietly next to him without him ever knowing. Perhaps that was for the best. He had no idea how to comfort people.

  Stephen, it’s all right to cry.

  Stephen remembered looking at Aunt Milly and shaking his head. They stood beside the dual graves of his parents on a warm spring morning. He remembered the crocuses had just started to pop up from the ground and that was all he could focus on while the minister spoke.

  How could he explain to his aunt that he couldn’t cry? That everything was bottled up inside, topped off with a cork? And that the pressure hurt? But no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t cry.

  He felt that same way now, ten years later. He couldn’t cry for Aunt Milly. He could feel the pressure building up inside like steam in pipes, but there was no release valve. Instead, the only thing he could do was to keep moving until the pressure finally dimmed.

  At least Kat had found a way to release the pressure.

  She gave a small whimper and curled up toward the window.

  A different kind of ache burgeoned in his chest. He shifted in his seat and turned away from Kat. Blazes! After two years, he thought he would never fall for another woman and here he was, his heart slowly attaching to the one next to him. Why now? And why her?

  I don’t have time for this. He narrowed his eyes. Just get the job done. Find that doctor, pass her on to him, and you’ll be free.

  But something told him it wouldn’t be that easy. There was more to this job than he could see, and he didn’t like that.

  The train whistle blew just as the sun began to sink across the windows to the right. Kat sat up and blinked. She brushed her hair back and looked around. “Are we there?”

  “No, not for a couple more hours.”

  Kat nodded and turned her attention back to the window. They were now at the edge of World City. Bits of the country poked through dingy and worn down buildings. Tall oaks. Lush green fields. The way the world used to look before civilization took over and converted everything to machinery and steam.

  “I’ve never been outside World City.” Kat turned and looked at him, her eyes dark and wide in the dim light.

  Stephen swallowed, but found his mouth dry. “It’s different,” he finally said.

  Kat turned back to the window.

  The train pulled up to a small station. A couple disembarked from their car and two men took their place. They sat down a couple of rows ahead, their faces shadowed by their hats.

  Suddenly uncomfortable, Stephen watched them closely. Though they never looked back, he got the feeling they were monitoring him and Kat. He felt the revolver again beneath his jacket. The men were unlikely to make a move on the train, but he would be ready anyway.

  With a shrill whistle, the train lurched from the station. The last sliver of the sun sank beneath the western horizon.

  Stephen settled back into his seat and let his mind wander. When they reached Covenshire, he would need to talk to Kat and get her to open up. There were pieces he was missing. Who was after whom? He doubted anyone was after his aunt. She had been caught in the crossfire. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure of that.

  So were they after Dr. Bloodmayne? That made the most sense. Jealousy. Passion. Greed. There could be any number of reasons why someone would want Dr. Bloodmayne dead. He had seen them all on the job. Or perhaps it was an assass
in from Austrium sent here to kill the lead scientist creating the weapons against their country. It had happened before, during other wars.

  But . . .

  Stephen looked over at the young woman beside him. None of that explained the mysteries around Kat. Why was she looking for this particular doctor? And what did she mean there were things about her father?

  Stephen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Whatever the case, his aunt had sent Kat to him to keep her safe. He would do that, and help her in any way he could.

  Starting with the two men in front of them.

  18

  The train came rumbling into Covenshire a little after eight o’clock that evening. Buildings stood like black silhouettes against the brilliant red sunset. The air held a hint of salt and far off, the ebb and flow of the ocean sounded across the sleepy fishing city.

  As the train came into the station, Stephen leaned over to Kat. “Don’t look around, just remain focused on the seat in front of you.”

  Her brows scrunched up, but she kept her gaze forward.

  “We are being followed.”

  She took a quick breath.

  “Once we get off, I’m going to try and throw them off our trail. Follow my lead even if it seems odd. All right?”

  Her gaze came up to meet his, clear and resolved, then she gave him a small nod.

  He let out the breath he had been holding. Good.

  Stephen stood the moment the train came to a stop. The two men never looked back, but he had guessed who they were during the last hour. Black bowler hats. Black trench coats. Carefully trimmed hair and mustaches. And an eye embroidered across the right sleeve, which he had caught sight of in the window.

  World City investigators.

  Stephen grasped Kat’s elbow and helped her to her feet. He leaned in, blocking the front of the train from her view. “Stay close to me.”

  He stepped into the aisle and let Kat out, then followed her to the back of the train. Using the windows, he glanced behind them. The two men had stood and were following about a car length behind.

  Kat headed down the stairs and onto the platform outside. Heavy fog hung over the dark seaport city. A smile touched Stephen’s lips. The fog would prove useful.