The Machine (Blood and Destiny Book 1)

by E. C. Jarvis

  “What can I get you, lovie?” The large barmaid beamed a warm smile. “Or are you looking for work?” The barmaid turned her gaze up to the women on the balcony, followed by a scrutinising look over Larissa’s young form.

  “I’m looking for someone,” Larissa replied, scanning the room for anyone who might fit Cid’s description. Her gaze settled on a dark, scraggly haired man sitting at the end of the long bar and dressed head to toe in black. He was too far away to hear her conversation, yet she was certain he watched her.

  “Buy a drink first, then give me a name and I’ll tell you my price,” the barmaid said flatly.

  “Oh?” Larissa hadn’t accounted for having to pay out just to find out if the mercenary was in the vicinity.

  “I’ll have a glass of wine, please?”

  The barmaid raised one eyebrow at her before turning to pull a dusty bottle off a shelf and pouring out a measure into a pint glass. Clearly, wine was not the usual choice in this venue.

  “I’m looking for a lady named Serenia,” Larissa said as she took the drink. She hoped that a direct approach would work best; she had neither the strength nor the will to start demanding things of people. The barmaid took a step back, placed the wine bottle rim under the ale tap, and proceeded to top up the bottle with ale. Afterward, she replaced the bottle back on the shelf.

  Charming.

  “Five gold.” The barmaid’s broad smile had faded and her face set in a hard stare.

  “Is that for the drink or for the information?”

  “Both.”

  “Fine.” Larissa dug into her purse and produced five gold coins, presenting them to the barmaid. Larissa kept half an eye on the man at the end of the bar who now stared intently at her.

  “Where’s the rest of it?” the barmaid asked.

  “You said it was for both?”

  “Five for the drink, five for the information.”

  Dear Gods, if I make it out of here alive I’ll certainly be broke...

  She wondered if Cid knew of some secret money stash the Professor might have put in the airship for emergencies.

  “Fine.”

  Larissa handed over five more gold coins; the barmaid raised both eyebrows in response.

  “Serenia comes in every other evening. She usually only accepts work from men.” The barmaid furrowed her brow. “She was in last night, so I doubt you’ll see her today.”

  “Oh.” Larissa’s heart sank.

  Two women on the balcony screeched obscenities at each other and the barmaid lobbed an empty bottle at them to break it up. The bottle smashed on the wall, scattering glass everywhere. The women stopped fighting and disappeared into separate rooms. Larissa’s eyes grew wider as she wondered if perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  “Listen, sweetie.” The barmaid smiled at her again, this time rather more sympathetically. “I don’t know what your story is, but I can tell you clearly don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You never heard of negotiating?”

  “Well, yes...”

  “You never accept the first price. I tell you how much I want and you tell me how much you’re willing to pay, and we meet somewhere in the middle, right?”

  “Oh.” The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. At her work, prices were set, no bartering allowed in such a fine establishment as Greyfort's Clothing Emporium. “I don’t suppose you’d care to give me my money back and start again?”

  The barmaid threw her head back and roared with laughter. Larissa felt her face burn red with embarrassment. “Listen darlin’, if you’re dead set on meeting Serenia I’ll get one of the boys to send her a message. Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to catch her interest. Not many people come asking for her by name, and never a woman.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “Well since you paid me all this gold, it’s the least I could do!”

  “In that case, tell her I’m here on behalf of Professor Maximillian Watts. That should get her attention.”

  “Indeed it should.” The barmaid raised both eyebrows again. “You take a seat, lovie. Enjoy your wine.”

  Larissa headed to an empty table at the back, choosing a good position where she could keep an eye on the doorway. Although the man at the end of the bar had disappeared, the hairs on the back of her neck did not settle. She tentatively sipped at odd-tasting wine and submitted to a long wait.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Only a day had passed, but the Professor suffered greatly. Due to the injuries he’d sustained in the explosion at the Hub and lack of medical attention, his health was failing. The visits to his cell were so frequent they had already established a routine. The Professor could endure around half an hour of torture before passing out, during which he would give them small pieces of information.

  The woman, whose name he had forgotten, would sit neatly propped on a stool in the corner, scribbling notes. She stopped on occasion to peer at him over the top of her glasses while the muscle of the operation, Hans, would inflict some form of painful torture whenever he felt the Professor was withholding anything. It seemed Hans preferred the whip, although the Professor did not share that preference.

  Doctor Orother visited frequently to check on the progress, followed always by the silent figure in the dark red robe who would stand nearby, watching. Orother now regarded the Professor as though he were visiting an exhibit in a museum. The Professor had tried convincing them that he would provide accurate drawings of his machine if only they would release him from his bindings. While the woman seemed to think this a good idea, Orother dismissed it when she consulted with him.

  Deprived of food and water, the Professor found it impossible to stay focused and frequently lost consciousness. When he passed out, they left him alone. He would often be awoken by a bucketful of ice water thrown over his body, wrenching him back to reality. His arms switched between tingling with painful pins and needles to being completely numb, as though they had been removed altogether. He could no longer will his fingers into trying to untie the knots in the rope; they had given up listening. His body was a mess of blood and wounds and unfortunate bodily functions which had passed beyond his control.

  Above all else, he decided, he had to get down from the ceiling. If there was to be any chance of escape he would not find it by being so restricted, and if there was no chance of escape, he at least preferred to meet a grisly end in a position of his choosing.

  Another bucket of ice water splashed across his torso. He gritted his teeth as the pain flowed through him like a wave, slowly ebbing away to a dull, constant ache.

  “Professor, shall we resume?” the woman spoke, her voice never faltering in spite of the grim setting. He couldn’t decide if she actually enjoyed this or if she was simply unaffected. Somehow the latter seemed more sinister than the former.

  “We discussed the steam flow from the turbines to the condensers beneath.”

  How is she making this sound like a business meeting?

  “However, I need more details on the void fraction values and the associated contributing factors. Can you please provide me with your calculations?” She dipped her quill into the inkpot and poised, ready to write.

  “You expect me to remember complex calculations in this situation?” The whip crack echoed through the room and pain sliced across his lower back.

  “I have low expectations of you, Professor,” she retorted, adjusting her glasses. At that moment Doctor Orother entered, his fists curled into tight balls by his sides.

  “Hans, you’re required elsewhere.”

  “Doctor Orother.” The Professor tried his best to sound calm and collected. “Your engineer, Miss Amaria, needs some calculations and I cannot focus in this position. If you would just let me down…”

  “Yes, fine,” the Doctor snapped and he waved an instruction at Hans.

  “Make sure he’s still bound and meet me in the control room.”

 
The Doctor flew out in a rush, muttering something that sounded like the engineer and the dirigible. Had he been more in control of his faculties, the Professor would have congratulated himself for both remembering the woman’s name and for talking the Doctor into letting him down. Instead, he merely grunted in exhaustion as Hans untied the ropes and he flopped to the floor.

  Moments passed until he could focus again. Hans had bound his wrists behind his back with thick rope. He could feel the blood rushing painfully through his arms, causing his body to shudder, and his stomach lurched once more as he felt the floor swelling and dipping in an odd manner.

  “The calculations, Professor,” Amaria repeated, her voice terse and impatient.

  “Yes, of course.”

  He relayed erroneous details, knowing they would figure out he had given them false information at some point. Maybe they’d work out the correct calculations themselves. It didn’t matter; he wasn’t about to give them everything, not after he’d worked so hard for so long. As he spoke, his eyes watched her fingers scribble furiously to keep up with him. The blood returned to his fingers, still tied behind his back, and he managed to wriggle them. It would take time and effort to escape the bindings, and he feared that time was not on his side.

  He watched Amaria as she lifted her free hand to twirl her fingers around the thin gold necklace she wore, and his mind drifted to Larissa. Had she made it out alive? Was she now in trouble herself? He felt a deep twinge of regret in the pits of his stomach at the realization that he had dragged her into such a mess, and purely for selfish reasons.

  Perhaps he should have listened to Cid’s advice. Her face flashed through his mind—her soft jaw and innocent, blue-grey eyes. He remembered how she surprised him at her apartment, how close he came to giving in to his own carnal desires when she had shown such willingness. How differently things could have turned out if he would have just given up on that infernal machine for one damn night.

  “Professor.” Amaria peered over her glasses at him. “I hope you don’t think that just because Hans is absent you can get away with sitting in silence?”

  “Of course not. My apologies.” Not realizing he’d stopped talking, he began again, relaying more false information. His hands curled into angry fists behind his back. It took a moment before he noticed he had regained full control of his fingers. It took a greater measure of control to still his lips from curling into a grin as he worked on loosening the ropes.

  . . .

  The winter sun glow faded swiftly from sight, and with the day’s end more patrons spilled into the bar. Their raucous recreation provided an amusing distraction from Larissa’s nervous thoughts. She had played the conversation over and over in her mind, trying to map out all possible questions she felt the mercenary may have and deciding on the most appropriate answers to each. Still, butterflies danced in her stomach, their constant fluttering turning into somersaults every time the door opened.

  Nearby, another fight broke out between two pleasure ladies who argued over the custom of a handsome-looking young man in military attire. Larissa watched on for a moment, hiding her smile behind her drink when the gentleman decided to procure the services of both women at the same time.

  “Well?” a sharp voice barked at Larissa from beside the table. She jumped and almost spilled her drink. “You’re the one looking for me?”

  A tall woman loomed over the table, casting a long shadow. Her dark skin made her stand out from the other pale-skinned people in the bar, and Larissa knew right away who she was. The mercenary was dressed just as Cid had described, as though she would fit in more with the harlots upstairs. The only exception was the belt laid across the top of her corset, which contained a selection of elaborate pistols and knives, on show for all to see.

  “Serenia?” Larissa asked, her voice a squeak.

  “Yes.” Serenia’s eyes narrowed and she placed her hands on the chair opposite Larissa, drumming her long, painted fingernails on the wood.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Larissa found herself standing up, as though some form of formal gesture felt appropriate. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “No,” Serenia barked.

  “Would you like to sit down?”

  “No.”

  Larissa chewed on her lower lip for a moment, slumping back down in her seat. All her conversation planning flew out the window. She had assumed the mercenary would be at least moderately talkative, not monosyllabic.

  “So, to business,” Larissa sighed. She reached into her bra, pulled out the scrap of paper she had found in the Captain’s cabin, and pushed it across the table. “Did you write this?”

  Serenia glanced at the paper for a mere moment “Yes.”

  “And did you provide the rest of the report to the Professor?”

  “I don’t have time for inane chit-chat.”

  “Inane? A price list that includes interrogation, mutilation, and murder with my name on it might be inane to you. However, it’s a little more than that to me.”

  “Are you going to get to the point this evening or should I come back tomorrow?”

  “The point? Well, I need to know who else you sold this information to and where I can locate them.”

  “What makes you think anyone else would be interested? I could hardly believe the Professor had any need for such an…” Serenia paused, looking Larissa up and down, “…average girl.”

  Larissa gripped the paper in her hand, a hand that clenched into a tight fist, and sprang from her chair to lean across the table, bringing her face closer to Serenia. Her heart raced with anger and frustration, and the small voice at the back of her head screaming “Stop, you idiot, she’ll kill you!” faded away into static.

  “Listen, you can insult and belittle me all you want. I don’t care. It doesn’t change the fact that the Professor has been kidnapped by some maniac and I intend to rescue him.”

  She sucked in a deep breath. Was that what she intended to do? It seemed a far stretch now that she said the words out loud. After all, she was a clothing retailer, not some adventuring warrior. And as for the Professor, if it weren’t for his strangely unwarranted attention towards her, she would be happily curled up in her apartment reading a book and enjoying a quiet weekend.

  No, that Doctor would have still gone to your apartment looking for the Anthonium, and you would have been there. Who knows what he would have done to you?

  “You? Intend to rescue the Professor?” Serenia snorted.

  “That’s what I said. Now, are you going to tell me what I need to know or not?”

  Serenia straightened her back and looked Larissa over, giving her a thorough appraisal. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

  “I am aware of the risks.”

  “Are you? I could kill you right now, you realize?”

  “You could, though I doubt there would be any profit in that.”

  I hope.

  “I could kill you and take all your money. That would be profit enough for the trouble I’ve taken to come down here.”

  Larissa sighed and slipped back into her seat. At least the woman was only discussing murder rather than enacting it. “I wonder,” she began, an idea forming in her head. “If you did give me help, and I did manage to rescue the Professor, I’m sure he would reward you handsomely for your assistance.”

  “That’s a lot of ifs.”

  “Perhaps you’d like to join me? Come along and give your assistance? No doubt I’d have a much better chance of succeeding with someone of your caliber along.” The thought of inviting this woman to come with her on an unplanned mission was almost as unappealing as the idea of trying to convince Cid to help.

  “Twenty gold,” Serenia said after a long and uncomfortable silence.

  “For you to join me?”

  “For the information you want. My assistance in your mission will cost you a thousand gold.”

  “I’ll pay you five, and that’s for answers to all the questions I have, not just one.�
� Larissa arched an eyebrow at Serenia, hoping her first attempt at haggling would work.

  “You’ll pay me fifteen gold and I’ll choose which questions I answer and which I do not.”

  “How about ten?”

  “Fifteen, or I walk out of here and leave you stranded. Let’s not forget who needs whom.”

  “Very well, fifteen it is.” She pulled out the coins and held them in her hand, knowing that handing the payment over before getting the information would be a silly idea.

  “Did Doctor Orother pay you for the same information about me which you supplied to the Professor?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know where Orother has taken the Professor?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know where I can find Orother?”

  “He travels often. The last I knew, he was heading to Meridina.”

  “The mountain range?”

  “Yes. Only extraordinarily wealthy people are permitted to visit the town, and only with a private invitation. The roads and trains are patrolled by guards, so unless you plan on robbing a bank or you manage to develop a keen knack for stealth, I don’t expect you’ll get too far in your endeavor.”

  “Perhaps I could get there without using the roads.”

  “It’ll take months for you to walk there, across deadly terrain, in the middle of winter.”

  Who said anything about walking?

  “You’re sure you don’t want to join me?”

  “As amusing as it would be to watch you get yourself torn to pieces, I possess a sense of self-preservation and do not take on completely suicidal missions. Especially when there isn’t much hope of getting paid at the end.”

  Larissa paused for a moment, considering what kind of work Serenia, as a mercenary, would usually accept. When she began questioning again, her voice filled with caution. “Did you leave the Doctor with the same price list for further services regarding me?”