by Lexi Ostrow
Currents of Silver
Alliance of Silver & Steam Book 5
Lexi Ostrow
Colliding Worlds Press
Contents
Foreword
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Published by Colliding Worlds Press
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Cover Artist: Dreams2Media
Edited by: Rebecca Weeks
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual events, or locales or persons, living or dead are entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Published by Colliding Worlds Press
Lexi Ostrow © Copyright 2016
All rights reserved.
Foreword
Dear Reader,
As with other books in the Alliance of Silver and Steam series, Currents of Silver will be tweaking some historically known events (and inventors) to fit the timeline. Rest assured, Tesla didn’t have a traveling partner (that I’m aware of), and Edison did scoop him on the invention of the light bulb. However, what would a good steampunk novel be without a little fact twisting? I hope you enjoy the new world of the Alliance of Silver and Steam.
XoXo,
Lexi
Prologue
Shortly after Seraphina tore her wings out
“No more! You will not be a black spot on the history of demon-kind. We will erase your memory from existence. All that will be left will be the fantastical tales humans like to tell of dragons.” Lucifer shouted as the ceiling mercilessly dropped from above into the space just outside his throne room.
Rocks tumbled down, booming with all the power of thunder as they crashed upon the demon tied up at the bottom of the pit. Dust clouds flew up from every angle, suffocating many if the chokes around him were anything to go off. He could see nothing through the dense brown dust cloud, but he no longer heard the screams and threats of his captive. Doing his best not to topple as the room continued to shake he looked to Seraphina. She stood mere meters from him, but the dust made it impossible to know if she saw his non-verbal command.
The roar of boulder striking boulder told him she had not.
“Enough!” he thundered at his newest bedmate, a talented Fallen Angel with a penchant for controlling objects with her mind, something few Angels could do.
Looking at him from the corner of her eye, she let her arms drop. Moments later the rocks stopped falling, but the dust cloud still prevented him from seeing much.
“Is that what you had in mind?” Seraphina asked, her voice a sultry whisper.
Waving a hand in front of his face he pushed the dust in the air aside. “Yes.”
“I do not understand why we did not kill him? Should he break free-”?
His eyes switched from black to a molten red-orange as he grabbed her shoulders. “He will not get out.” Clearing his throat, he released her, his eyes slowly fading back to black. “I will not commit genocide. He is the last of his kind and entrapment is enough.”
She snorted. “Sounds to me like a take on the human’s Greek Gods and Titans . . . didn’t that end badly when they escaped?”
He growled at her, ready to punish her for her disobedience. However, the dust in the cavern was settling, showing nothing but a craggy surface where the giant pit had been seconds before. Many of his guards lay crushed beneath the rubble, and for that he was sorry. His men were loyal, and that was hard to come by.
Lucifer’s chest still heaved from exertion as he closed off the hole in him throne room. It had taken nearly every demon alive and eleven hours to secure Dieargog—a demon many would confuse for a dragon. It had taken mere minutes to trap him forever.
The chamber was still, the dust no longer swirling about and demons groaning in pain did not move. Leaning his ear to his shoulder, he shook off the painful crack of his neck before repeating the action on the other side.
“None shall disturb him. None shall visit him, and none shall wake him. Dieargog is near immortal after consuming his kind. He needs no food for energy, and therefore he will live out his lifespan down there and then die.”
“Still sounds a mighty big tick like genocide,” Seraphina muttered, looking at her nails.
“It is not. He would never reproduce as he ate all of his kind. He would forever be the last. I will simply not hurry the process along. There is a natural order to things, and Dieargog’s place is now beneath my feet. Where every day I can stamp on his head and remind him that he was no match for the King of Hell.”
He offered Seraphina, his hand. She slipped her dainty hand into his, and he turned to walk them to his throne. There was use for the smart-mouthed Fallen . . . in his bed. Victory always set his loins burning.
“Tell me,” Seraphina said as she walked to stand beside his bone throne, dragging her fingertips across his chest. “Just what did a demon as huge as that one do to upset you?”
A deep growl escaped him, but Seraphina did not step away from him. He enjoyed that about her.
“He dared to think that he was more fit to rule my throne. Dieargog thought size mattered more than species. Whilst a Dragoniari is certainly a mighty beast, they don’t have the cunning to rule Hell.” He smiled wickedly at Seraphina. “He didn’t have the cunning to overtake me.”
“And should he ever be freed?” She asked coyly as she dropped her hand into his lap, massaging his prick to a hardened state.
“He will remember us all. Those he saw and names he heard will be a challenge list for him. Once he is done with those that imprisoned him it is likely he will try to take over Hell once more or even the world. Humans will find him fanciful, and when he wishes to be, he can be a thing of beauty. It will never come to pass. The chains he is in have no key, and I am certain none of my ilk will dare to lift the debris to unleash him. He destroyed his kind, he has no one to champion for him. Dieargog will live out his life until the energy sustaining him diminishes and then he will be but a corpse beneath my feet.” He put his hand on hers, quickening her pace. “Now, enough talk of that demon. We have far larger things to dwell on.” His eyes flashed fiery red.
One
1881
Clara sucked in a deep breath of air, grateful to be alive, as she was every evening since the war between Hell and Earth. The crisp smell of winter wafted up to her nose, and she smiled. There had been a period of time when Clara had thought she’d never feel the cool brush of winter on her
skin or the deliciousness of sex. For eleven weeks, she’d lain captive in the Alliance of Silver and Steam’s dungeons. There had been so many demons down there, some she gathered actually belonged, and others were like herself—trapped, captured or saved during the battle.
It had been longest eleven weeks of her life, which was considerably long given the Succubus blood pumping through her veins. Red blood, not black ichor, marked her as much of a lesser demon as her human appearance did. That hadn’t mattered to the Alliance as all demons attacked humans. Or so they had initially believed. She had sat in her personal hell, with no sex for sustenance. When they’d finally released her, she had scarcely been able to open her eyes. Thankfully, they had known that, and she’d quickly sated her fill with many men and women—demon and human alike.
She could have resented them for their torture. In fact, many of the wrongly imprisoned did, but she did not. The hunter who had taken her in had saved her from the claws of a Thrasher Demon. She’d been caught and sentenced as a traitor for not taking arms against the humans and was about to be put to death when a group of five stormed the alleyway and killed all those that did not have a human visage. Every other day they had come to her cell and questioned her. She’d done her best to keep her demon nature in check, but as she’d grown weaker it had become harder, and they’d stopped questioning.
Until exactly twelve years ago, to the day, when they’d finally set her free.
“Are you well, Clara?” Lasario, a Pure Angel, asked as he landed beside her. “You seem preoccupied. You cannot be so when we hunt this night.”
She cracked a small laugh. Pure Angels still had a nasty habit of assuming they were better than all other creatures. They certainly were, but they had a nasty habit of throwing it around, making others feel like the muck horses plod through. They might work alongside the Alliance now to quell the demons that disobeyed the new laws, they certainly didn’t appear to enjoy it.
Slipping the purple lens goggles over her face, she nodded to her partner. “This is simply a big day for me. It marks the night I was deemed an ally and given a place in the Alliance halls.”
“I did not ask for an explanation, Clara. I was seeking confirmation. Your affairs are not of my concern.” His brilliant white wings unfurled, sending a gust of cold winter weather at her, snow and all.
She sighed, knowing there was no reason to continue to converse with the Angel and brushed the snow from her black braid. “Very well then. Yes, I am well and more than capable of my duties this night.” Pulling the crystal-powered gun from her waistband, she nodded again. “I have a duty with Eliza at half past three. Thomas will take my place when it is time for me to switch.”
Lasario’s brown eyes slanted, and she was positive he was going to comment on his distaste for working with demon hunters and not human hunters. To his credit, he merely pushed off the ground with his muscular legs and took to the air. Angels oft patrolled from above, it made it easier for any humans they stumbled across.
Three nights a week she walked the life of a hunter. Her Succubus traits made her a valuable member of the team. She had trained with both Thomas and his father, Greyston, to prove her worth and ability to control her talents.
Taking slow steps, she looked up, trying to see through the cloud layer. Lasario had a thrilling habit of taking hunts into his control and leaving his partner behind. Which led to both parties having to stand before the council. It didn’t bother her, they had judged her numerous times, but it did interrupt her other duties in the inventories laboratory.
On her first day training with the advanced beam firing crystal weapons, she’d broken hers. The gun had fallen, sending the gemstone flying but not shattering. It had taken her seconds to engage it properly, and before she could blink, she’d been standing before Eliza, being asked to work as an apprentice to the inventors.
Life since the battle hadn’t been terrible. Quite the opposite. Demons despised those that appeared human. The war had made that a crime. Laws had been enacted for all—by Layel for the Pure, Seraphina for the demonic and Odette for the humans—that prevented unjust prosecution. Demons were caught and brought to trial if they defied the laws. Should they injure a hunting party, pardons were granted for rough treatment, but death was frowned upon, and oft led to dismissal from the secret group that worked inside the Clockworker’s Guild.
It was strange, working alongside the Pure. Not the humans. Clara had been mingling amongst humankind for nearly a century when the war occurred. They were better bed partners—perhaps not as voracious as a demon, but certainly more appreciative of a woman willing to bed them as many human women did not partake in the act until they were wed.
The familiar buzz chime of a communicator came from her wrist under the suede blouse. Tugging the heavyweight fabric back, she pulled out the knob and raised the device to her mouth as she casually stepped into the shadows.
“This is Clara.” Her voice was a hushed whisper, some things one just couldn’t explain to a human and this type of technology was one.
“Clara, it’s Eliza. We need you back earlier than expected.” The head inventor’s voice was tinged with panic.
“Blow something up?” Clara teased. She had been Eliza’s assistant for most of the past decade, and the woman was bloody brilliant, but she was also an incredible disaster at times.
“Not the time, Clara. I’ve been informed Jacob is holding audience with Nikola Tesla in two days time.”
She’d heard much of the famed inventor, including his race with Edison to invent new means of communication and more. I wonder what he would do if he knew he’d been long beaten?
“Might I inquire what you need me present for? Losario will likely bemoan having to return before he wishes.”
“I don’t give a damn about a blasted Pure Angel right now. Jacob wishes to court Tesla to our ranks. We need disposable guns, communicators, and my Jessabelle. The problem is we don’t have them. Backups go quickly with the training academy blowing through them. I need all everyone rolling up their sleeves.”
Letting out a sigh Clara nodded as if the women on the other end could see her. Communicators had come a long way, but they did not feature a way to transpose one’s image to another location . . . yet.
“I will be right in.”
“Good, and Clara?” Eliza paused before continuing. “Get your hunter’s garb off. I can’t have you tripping over a frill or popping your bust out of your corset in front of my inventors, and they aren’t used to such things.”
It took everything she had to not chuckle at the request. A fortnight ago she had left quite a few men with knickers in a twist when she’d forgotten to shift into more suitable clothing.
“I’ve donned a blouse this night, but noted.” The communication dropped out with a chime. They were still working on a way to keep the gears charging the power crystal for longer than a few moments. If the Angels knew of a way to work their stones, they weren’t sharing.
Tilting her head back she looked to the sky. A small dark shape moved at a rapid pace in the clouds. The rules were that any air lookouts went at the same pace as their grounded partners. “Someone forgot to let this Angel know,” she muttered as she paused.
Her communicator couldn’t handle another transmission so close together. All she could do was stand still and hope the arrogant Angel noticed she’d stopped moving. Three minutes ticked by, then five. Her foot tapped gently on the cobblestone street, annoyance threatening to have her shouting to the sky for the damned man to come down.
There was no use in waiting. The blasted Angel was not interested in patrolling with her, and that meant he wasn’t watching below him. “Well, bugger off to him too.” She snorted as she crossed her arms over her chest and began to walk back to where they’d parked their steam-powered motorbikes behind a tavern. “He can get himself into a whole bloody lot of trouble, and I’m not waiting.”
Stalking off, she wondered just how important a man like Tesla joinin
g could truly be.
Two
Hugo’s blond hair wouldn’t stay in the blasted queue. It was too short for a tie but too long to be appropriately loose for fashion’s standards.
“You should have cut it,” Tesla said over the top of his paper, eyes never leaving the print.
Hugo sighed, letting go the hair he held in his hands and allowing it to brush freely over his shoulders. “If you had told me where we had truly been off to, I would have.” Leaning back in the seat he directed his attention outside of the train. Snow was falling heavily, white flakes as big as rocks stuck to the window and quickly covered the tracks mere seconds after the train passed.
“You are my assistant, not my associate, Hugo. I tell you whatever I think you need to know. You needed to know we were traveling to the King’s Country, and that was it.” Punctuating his words further, he flipped the page of paper.
“I would imagine having me in proper order to meet the King of Great Britain would have been important.” The snide comment was not the first he’d made in the last week of their trek when their destination had been revealed.
“You may whine your American heart out. I do not have any remorse over the matter, and the more you act like a toddler, the more I regret ever having taken you on.” Tesla’s dark eyes narrowed over his reading at Hugo.
The conversation was inexplicably over. Tesla had a way about him that when he was finished with something, everyone had to be. When he’d first joined Tesla, he had been just twenty and two, fresh out of Harvard and with high praise from the head of the small physics department. It hadn’t been enough to warrant more than fetching beverages and cleaning soiled cloths from failed experiments, but it had been a start. Six years later and he was still very much an assistant. However, Tesla trusted him inexplicably. He was assigned tasks no others in the ranks could be trusted with. So, you really should have realized a trip across the sea would have been important.