Tainted (The Soul Chronicles Book 1)

by Morgan L. Busse

  Halfway across the room he identified the figure on the last table as female, dressed in a short, white gown that looked more like a nightdress. With dark hair across her face.

  Stephen ran the rest of the way and stopped beside the table. The gown was almost sheer, showing each curve of the woman beneath. Only the slight rise and fall of her chest revealed life within the corpse-like body.

  “Kat?” he whispered, the same wave of dizziness from earlier threatening to crash over him again.

  The figure didn’t answer.

  He reached over and brushed the dark hair aside.

  Kat lay there with eyes closed, her face so pale it looked white with a tint of green in dim light.

  He wanted to yell, but bit back the words inside his mouth. They needed to leave, now!

  He tried to scoop her up, but found thin tubes inserted into her wrists. Stephen withdrew his hands and stepped back. On closer inspection, he also found metal rods attached to her ribs, right below her breasts, barely visible beneath the translucent material of her gown.

  Tearing his gaze away, he snatched his hat off and raked his fingers through his hair. What do I do? God, what do I do? He glanced at her again, careful to keep his eyes on where the metal rods were attached and not on her barely concealed breasts. Even lying here on the metal table, Kat was still a lady, and he would treat her as such.

  With a deep breath, he shoved his hat back on. He approached the table again and placed a hand on her middle. Carefully, he tugged at the metal rods along her ribs. They gave with a small amount of pressure. One by one he pulled the rods out. Blood seeped out of the wounds, staining her white garment, but nothing gushed. He let out his breath and pulled the tubes out of her wrists.

  He checked around her body for any other attachments. Nothing. She was free.

  The scientist he had bound started shouting, but the cloth in his mouth stifled his yells.

  Stephen scooped Kat up. She barely weighed anything in his arms. As he readjusted his hold on her, she neither moved nor woke.

  “Kat . . .” He bowed his head. She smelled like the room, like incense and decay. The blood from her side seeped onto the front of his shirt.

  He clutched her tighter and moaned. How could they have done this? How could he have done this? His stomach clenched. He leaned down until he was inches from her face. “I am sorry,” he whispered. “So very, very sorry.”

  Could she hear him? He didn’t know.

  The man behind him continued to shout.

  Stephen straightened up, then turned and made his way across the laboratory with Kat. As he neared the man on the floor, the prisoner began to wriggle and shout even more.

  A fire filled his chest as the red blotches across the man’s lab coat caught his eye. Was that Kat’s blood?

  Without pausing, he delivered a swift kick to the head.

  Crack!

  The man slumped back to the floor, his eyes rolling up into his head, and a trickle of blood appearing beneath his right nostril.

  Stephen wanted to kick the man again, but pulled back and continued out the door. Kat needed him more.

  He hurried toward the staircase, the light from the large window at the end of the corridor illuminating his way. At the stairs, he paused and readjusted his hold on Kat. She was still cold. And pale. Death-like.

  His stomach lurched. Would she ever wake up?

  He shook his head. No time to think about that now. We need to get out of here.

  He glanced out the window. The sky was bright blue with only a couple of clouds in sight. He twisted his neck right and left. Where was Grim with his airship? He should be here by now.

  Footsteps echoed up the stairway.

  Stephen stepped back and pressed his body against the wall. While holding Kat with one hand, he reached for his right revolver and pulled the weapon out.

  A woman stepped out from the stairway, her carrot-colored hair pulled back in a chignon and a white lab coat over her dress.

  He held the gun up. “Stop right there.”

  The woman stopped and her pale face grew even whiter. Her gaze bounced between the gun and Stephen’s face, and finally landed on Kat.

  Stephen clutched Kat tighter to his chest as if to shield her from the young woman. “I’m leaving with her, and if you try to stop me, I will shoot you.”

  She shook her head, her eyes wide. “I—I had no idea they would do that to Kat.”

  He frowned but kept his revolver leveled at the woman scientist. “What do you mean? Do you know Kathryn Bloodmayne?”

  The woman gave him a jerky nod. “He said he knew what was wrong with her. He said he would help her.” Her voice rose with each word.

  Stephen kept his hand steady. “Who?”

  “Dr.—Dr. Bloodmayne.”

  “Well, he lied to you.” He glanced out the window behind the woman. The Lancelot appeared on the horizon, expanding as it skimmed over rooftops toward the Tower. About time, Grim. He turned back toward the woman. He only had minutes to get to a roof.

  “Are you helping her escape?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I am,” he said slowly, ready to shoot the woman if she screamed or ran.

  A shout filled the stairway nearby. The woman looked behind her, and Stephen inched his finger near the trigger. His time was up. They knew he was here.

  Just as his finger looped through the trigger guard, she twisted back around. “Maybe I can help.”

  Stephen blinked. Did she really just say—?

  “What do you need?”

  The woman could still be stalling, but she was right, he didn’t have time to debate it. Either she was lying or she wasn’t.

  “I need to get to the roof.”

  “You will never get past Dr. Bloodmayne’s office upstairs. Instead, head back down the hall and open the door at the end. You can access the main roof from a window inside. And tell”—she sucked in her lips—“and tell Kat I’m sorry.”

  Stephen nodded and ran, his gun still out. The redhead seemed familiar. Perhaps he had met her before. He reached the door and glanced back. The young woman was gone. No time to look for her now. Hopefully his trust had not been misplaced.

  He shoved the door open with his shoulder and stumbled into what looked like a storage area. Wooden crates and shelving racks were set up in long rows inside the room, with narrow aisles in between. Dust and cobwebs covered the shelves. A large, multi-paned window stood in the far back.

  Stephen turned sideways and started down the closest aisle. His lungs burned and his arms were on fire. Kat’s blood seeped into his shirt, causing the fabric to stick to his skin.

  Voices filled the hall behind him.

  He glanced back as he continued down the row. No one in the doorway yet.

  He’d reached the end of the aisle when someone burst into the room behind him. Stephen twisted around the stack of crates and placed Kat down below the window and out of sight. He pressed his back against the crates and held his revolver up.

  Movement outside the window caught his eye. The bow of the Lancelot cut through the air just above the roof of the main Tower building, twenty feet away.

  It was now or never. But first he would need to take care of whoever just came in.

  Stephen spun around, revolver ready—

  And froze.

  The man standing in the doorway barely looked like a man. Half of his face appeared as if it had melted off, along with his hair. What hair he had left was blond and wild. He spotted Stephen and started down the aisle in a halting gait.

  Stephen shook off his stupor, aimed right above the man’s head, and shot.

  The man slowed, but continued like a shambling monstrosity.

  Stephen twisted back toward the window and kicked at the bottom panes, his heart thrashing inside his ears. What kind of si
ck experiment had Dr. Bloodmayne performed on that man?

  Both panes shattered and the wooden lattice cracked. He kicked again, breaking the wood and the two panes above the first. Glass showered across the floor and the roof outside.

  Sailors across the top deck of the Lancelot waved. A moment later, a rope ladder dropped over the side, ending a couple of feet above the roof.

  Stephen looked back.

  The monster-man was halfway down the aisle. His light blue eyes held a crazed glint. “Give her back,” he rasped.

  Stephen answered with another shot above the head, almost grazing the man. The man dropped to the floor, and a hoarse yell filled the room.

  Stephen turned and kicked out the jagged pieces of glass left along the bottom pane. He leaned over the sill and looked outside. The roof was made of slate squares and was steep, much too steep to carry Kat to the rope ladder.

  He looked up at the ship and pointed at the roof, then shook his head. The men at the top nodded. A moment later, the Lancelot moved away. Hopefully that meant Captain Grim was bringing her back around for a closer retrieval.

  A roar sent Stephen spinning back.

  More men appeared in the doorway across the room. The monster-man stumbled to his feet with a snarl. “You will not take her!”

  Stephen gritted his teeth and aimed for the man’s left shoulder. “Too bad,” he muttered. The man didn’t need another wound, but he was getting one anyway.

  The revolver went off with a blast and the man reeled back, hitting the shelving behind him. It started a chain reaction, each shelf and rack hitting the next one over. The room echoed with loud crashes and booms. Dust filled the air in a cloud.

  Stephen holstered the weapon and picked Kat up with a grunt. He swung around and hoisted a leg over the windowpane, careful to place his foot on the ridge of the roof. Behind him men coughed, and one let out a long string of curses.

  The wind from the Lancelot’s rotors hit the roof and sent a couple of leaves flying across the city. The whirring sound grew as Grim brought his ship close to the Tower. The rope ladder swung only a few feet away.

  Stephen cringed. He was going to have to jump for it.

  He took a deep breath and held Kat tight. He leaned out the window, testing the ridge that ran across the roof. It held. “All right, here we go. One. Two. Three—”

  Forcing himself not to look down, he stepped out onto the ridge and dashed for the ladder. His foot slipped just as he reached the rope. With a gasp, he hurled himself forward and caught one of the rungs. Kat’s head sagged back and her hair flew freely in the wind.

  As soon as he got his feet back under him, Stephen wove his arm through the rope and held fast to the ladder. He stepped onto the lowest rung and looped his foot around the rope. He looked up, then down. There was no way he could carry her up the ladder. The sailors would just have to pull them aboar—

  A hand grabbed his other foot and pulled him back hard.

  Stephen caught himself just in time, his heart flying up into his throat. “Blazes!” he yelled and looked around.

  The monster-man lay across the ridge, his fingers wrapped around Stephen’s ankle.

  How in the—how did the man get out here? He was just shot!

  At this range, he could see the mottled red skin that covered half the man’s face. The skin beneath his right eye sagged, exposing the socket. His few strands of hair whipped around his light blue eyes.

  Stephen kicked out, but the man held on. Kat began to slip from his arms. Adrenaline raced down his spine and his limbs began to shake. No, it can’t end like this!

  He drew deep within for every ounce of remaining strength. Then with a shout, Stephen twisted and jerked his foot back. The man’s fingers slipped away. Stephen placed his foot on the ladder and looked up. “Now!” he yelled. “Take us up now!”

  The Lancelot pulled away from the Tower. Kat slipped a little farther. “No, no,” he whispered. He caught her beneath her arms and wrapped his own around her, trapping her between his body and the ladder. “I won’t let you go, Kat, do you hear me? I won’t let you go! Never again!”

  There was a hard pull on the rope, and they slowly rose into the air. Stephen held onto Kat with all he had left. Her hair whipped across his face. Sweat coated his entire body. His limbs slowly went numb, but still he held on.

  They passed the hull, up, up, until he could see across the deck. Hands reached down and grabbed Kat. He wanted to shout at them to be careful, but he couldn’t form the words. She rose into the air and disappeared over the edge.

  Stephen sagged against the ladder. He couldn’t make his body move. He couldn’t even uncurl his fingers. The rope began to move again, pulling him up to the deck.

  At the top, he collapsed across the wooden planks. Men moved around him, shouting orders and waving their hands.

  All he cared about was Kat.

  “Kat,” he said with a groan and turned over. She lay a couple of feet away. He got up on his elbows and crawled over to her. The wind rippled through her sheer gown.

  Stephen grimaced and sat up. She shouldn’t be out here, exposed in front of all these men. He tugged at his duster, but couldn’t seem to get his fingers to work.

  Robert appeared to his right, hunching down and gently placing his own dark duster across Kat’s body. He turned toward Stephen and rubbed his chin. “Too bad the Herald wasn’t here to see you in action. That rescue would have made the front page.”

  Stephen bowed his head and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. Then he laughed.

  34

  The airship rose into the sky, high above the roofs and smokestacks of World City. Behind them stood the Tower, growing smaller by the second.

  “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon, Grey.” Robert tapped his fingers across the wooden planks.

  Stephen caught his breath, the tension across his shoulders melting away. “I hope you’re not disappointed.”

  Robert cast a glance at Kat, then back at Stephen. “Sounds like it was a good thing I had an errand to attend to here before sailing off to Austrium.”

  Stephen sat up. “Indeed.”

  Robert motioned toward Kat. “Would you like one of my men to take the lady?”

  “No.” He moved to Kat’s side. “I will take her myself. Just show me where to go.” He could almost imagine she was simply sleeping, instead of on the verge of—He swallowed and gathered her up into his arms. Maybe he was wrong.

  Robert straightened up and snapped his fingers. One of his men moved forward. Stephen recognized him from that night in Covenshire.

  “Reid.”

  The man tipped his head. “Captain.”

  “Show Stephen to my quarters.”

  Stephen shook his head and stood. “Robert, we can stay in one of your other cabins.”

  “It’s for the lady. Let it never be said that Captain Robert Grim was not a gentleman. She’ll be more comfortable in my cabin.”

  Stephen nodded before following Reid across the deck, bypassing Grim’s crew. None of them showed emotion, standing there rigid, with arms at their sides and the bright blue sky behind them. He hoped they could keep a secret. Then again, Robert would never let a man on board he couldn’t trust.

  Still, he wouldn’t let Kat out of his sight. And if something happened . . .

  He focused on the weight that sat on either side of his hips, each gun loaded.

  He would be ready.

  Reid led him inside the ship and down the passage. At the end of the short corridor, he opened the door and stood back.

  Stephen stepped inside Grim’s private quarters. Once again he was struck with the opulence and functionality of the room: red velvet cushions, polished metal furniture, and the canopy bed that could easily fit two people, draped in scarlet silk.

  He lay Kat down on top of the bed
spread, making sure that translucent gown of hers was well covered by Robert’s coat. He brushed her hair back from her pale face and sighed.

  “I bet there is quite a story here.”

  Stephen looked up. Robert stood in the doorway where Reid had been moments before. How much should he tell his friend? Could he trust Robert?

  The captain shut the door and walked over to the large table. He unhooked one of the chairs from the floor and turned it around, sat down, and meshed his fingers together. The one eye not hidden behind his patch stared back, an icy blue.

  Stephen unhooked one of the other chairs and pulled it up next to the bed. He sat down and stared at Kat’s face. “I messed up. Big time.”

  “Stephen Grey made a mistake?” There was a hint of sarcasm and surprise in Robert’s voice.

  Stephen bowed his head. He rarely messed up. Logic always dictated his decisions. Except where women were concerned. The only other mistake he had ever made was not realizing that Vanessa was a conniving woman with a wandering heart.

  He had made the same mistake again. Not realizing what Kat was. Except this time he had been wrong the other way. She wasn’t the monster he had assumed. Yes, she had unexplainable power, power she could not control. But that wasn’t who she was. The real Kat, apart from whatever was wrong with her, was innocent.

  He pressed his face into his hand. He had failed her.

  The silence extended inside the cabin. A chair scraped across the floor behind him. Robert must have realized he wasn’t ready to talk. Not yet.

  Robert cleared his throat. “Well, the crew will need me on deck to set the course. We have one more stop before we head across the Narrow Strait to Austrium.”

  Stephen looked over his shoulder. “Thanks, Robert, for bringing us on board.”

  Robert continued to watch him with that one eye. “Of course, Stephen. And if it makes life more difficult for the World City council or that pet Tower of theirs”—he grinned—“all the better. I’ll have dinner brought to this room. Feel free to use the bench over there if you need to rest. Or you can use one of my other cabins.”