Shadow of the War Machine (The Secret Order)
Page 27
It didn’t matter. With my ruined dress I was hardly decent either.
I tucked myself into Will’s side as Peter and Manoj wheeled us down the long dark tunnel.
Josephine carried a torch and walked beside us.
“So much is destroyed,” she said. “So much is lost.”
“It will be rebuilt,” I promised. I took Will’s hand. Some things were gone forever, and we would have to grieve them, but in time those wounds would heal.
“I don’t know what to do now,” Josephine said. “I don’t belong to anyone anymore.”
“I could always use some help in my toy shop,” I offered. “Boarding is free for family.”
Josephine glanced sideways at me, but the barest of smiles graced her lips. Papa came up beside her and placed his hand on her shoulder.
Yes, we would begin anew.
• • •
The rest of that night blurred by in my mind. As we passed out of the catacombs and into the courtyard of the Academy, I stared up at the stars, and for the briefest moment, my heart felt both light and free.
I whispered a soft good-bye to my parents, feeling at last that they were at rest. Then I succumbed to the flurry of questions and chaos that seemed to surround me at all times.
Will, in spite of his injuries, remained my steady rock, and his calm presence bolstered my spirits as my exhaustion set in.
The Academy became a hive of activity, especially for the few members of the Guild and the Order who happened to be surgeons or bonesetters. I stayed with Will in the infirmary, as men from the Foundry surrounded us, peppering Will with questions about all that had transpired. Time passed in a blur as I slept for what felt like weeks and grieved.
Papa was hailed as a conquering hero returned like Odysseus from hardship and toil. I enjoyed seeing the faces of those who had made a habit of doubting me. It was amusing in the moment, but in the end I paid it little mind. It no longer mattered.
On December 31, as midnight settled over the Academy, a stillness fell over the mass of people filling the building. A bell pealed in the tower.
According to tradition, we were supposed to assemble in the hall, but circumstances being what they were, those of us still in the infirmary linked hands with those closest to us and affirmed our commitment to each other. Simple words, a simple promise to protect and serve the Order. To place one another above the call of fame or fortune. To uphold bonds of fealty that extend beyond nations, and above all to keep the arcane fire of inspiration burning for as long as the Order stands.
It was our prayer. As our words, spoken in a multitude of languages, drifted up to the canopy of stars above us, I knew a new day, a new year was dawning.
The fate of the war that raged across the sea would now be decided by those who fought for what they believed. The juggernaut would never see the light of day. I felt a surge of hope that 1863 would be a year marked with the promise of freedom.
As I sat in a chair next to Will in the Academy’s infirmary, I knew there was finally truly hope for us.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Spring 1867
I SMOOTHED MY DARK RED skirts as I ascended the ramp into the courtyard of the Academy. It would be the last time I did so as an apprentice. My fellow classmates lingered about the courtyard, speaking to one another in hushed but excited voices as the birds in the gilded aviary sang “Ode to Joy” in greeting.
I held my head high, smiling as Peter greeted me from the corner where he had stood so long ago on the day I had first met him. As I’d predicted, he still hadn’t entirely grown out of the roundness in his cheeks.
“Apprentice Margaret.” He gave me a courtly bow.
I smiled and curtsied in response. “Apprentice Peter.”
Noah shook his head as he joined us. It struck me how my friends—my brothers—had grown into such fine young men.
Manoj strolled over from the aviary, looking quite impressive with his neat beard. It had grown thick in the last few years. He wore a different turban. Instead of the small knot on the top of his head, his new turban was a bold dark red affair that he wore like a crown. A jewel with the seal of the Order hung on the front of it.
“Manoj, you look quite regal in red,” I mentioned.
He smiled at me, his dark eyes glowing with warmth. “As do you.”
Someone cleared his throat behind me, and I turned. David stood there with his lopsided grin. There was a new humility in him that served him well. “How far we’ve come,” he said. I was glad I could finally count him as a true and trusted friend.
“Indeed.” I was lucky.
He bowed and offered his arm. “Shall we?”
We entered the hall for the Gathering, nodding to John Frank, who stood at the door, holding it open with his mechanical arm. He winked at me, and I smiled.
The seats of the hall were filled with Amusementists, each robed in dark red with a hood covering his head. They held torches aloft. Those who had passed their apprenticeship filed down the steps and collected on the floor of the hall.
I remembered feeling alone during the night of my initiation, but no longer.
I was surrounded by friends, and I had family here to welcome me.
I cast my eyes to the ceiling as my grandfather, dressed in the ceremonial black robes and adorned with a gold chain around his neck, descended from on high. The platform lowered from the ceiling, surrounded by pillars of fire curling up brass armatures at all four corners.
As my grandfather stepped forward from the embrace of the arcane fire, he lowered his hood and smiled at all of us.
“As head of the Secret Order of Modern Amusementists, I greet you, the newest members of our noble fellowship.”
One by one he called my fellow apprentices to him. As he did so, Oliver and Nigel adorned them with their own red robes. Grandfather then laid a chain around each of their necks, as pictures formed of light projected upon the back wall. The pictures proudly displayed the personal insignia of each new member.
He honored David especially as head of the class. It had been a very close race, but in the end David had deserved credit for the amazing things he had accomplished, and I was proud of his achievement. I was also proud that for the most part I’d matched him wit for wit. We’d often been set against one another in competition, and the record tipped only slightly in his favor, but the tipping point had been worth it.
We all turned as Samuel entered at the back of the hall, wheeling himself forward in his chair. Manoj and Peter reached him and offered a hand. He placed one golden foot forward, planting it solidly on the stone floor, and he rose.
The hall erupted in cheers as Samuel walked forward on his mechanical legs as easily as he had ever done before the amputations. I didn’t fight the tears that stung my eyes. For as terribly as our relationship had started, I now called Samuel my friend. “Well done, David,” I whispered. It was his finest invention.
After all others had been called, I alone stood on the floor, with the whole of the Order watching me.
“And finally, Apprentice Margaret Anne Whitlock.” Papa’s voice cracked.
Behind him, in bright white light, an image appeared on the wall.
A beautiful bird with wings outstretched looked to the sky, ready to take wing. Her feet rested on a perfect half circle, a rock beneath her feet. I walked forward, trying to remain stoic even though my heart felt full to bursting.
“Fine work, Meg,” Oliver whispered as I held my arms out and he and Nigel wrapped the heavy robe over my shoulders. I could feel the weight of it as they lifted the hood, cocooning me in the pride of all that I had accomplished.
I stepped forward and ducked my head. Papa placed the chain around my neck. In the center a gold medallion had been inscribed with my mark.
Lifting my head, I looked into Papa’s eyes. They shone in the glittering light. “I am so proud of you,” he said and clasped my hand. Something cold pressed into my palm.
I looked down. In my hand rested
the clockwork key.
“It’s yours now.” Papa pressed a kiss to my forehead, then reached behind him and took a torch from a stand there. He lit it from the pillars of fire and addressed the gathering.
“May the light of the fire spread in you,” he declared, “As true Amusementists. Ex scientia pulchritudo!”
Our former instructors handed us each a torch. From Papa’s light the fire spread as we passed it from person to person. We held the torches aloft, and let them shine brightly.
It was the fire of a new dawn, and a new life for us all.
• • •
That evening I laughed as I entered the parlor of the Strompton townhome. The house was filled with friends and families as we celebrated our graduation.
“Come here, you little scamp. That doesn’t belong to you!” I called as I chased after a knobby-kneed boy with wild brown curls. He had absconded with the doll I had brought as a gift for his newborn baby sister.
I caught him and lifted him as he squealed in delight, his bright green eyes alight with mischief. “Auntie Margaret, put me down!”
“Simon!” Lucinda entered the parlor, and I placed the boy on his feet. I’m not sure which one of us looked more chagrined. “You are a gentleman,” she reminded him. She gave me a sly smile.
He dutifully handed the doll over to his mother, and she rewarded him with a kiss on the head. “Now off to the nursery with you.”
I tucked my hand into the pocket I had sewn into my dress and palmed a small figure of a knight on a horse, then held it out as the boy passed.
He took it, giggled in delight, and ran out of the parlor.
Lucinda gave me a scolding look. “You spoil him.”
“It’s a calling.” I shrugged.
Lucinda grinned, then folded me in a warm embrace. She held me at arm’s length and sniffled. “You did it, Meg. Truly I am in awe.”
I leaned forward and hugged her again. She was my sister in every way that mattered. “I couldn’t have done it without you. I owe you too much.”
“You owe me nothing.” She left to find her son, and I turned to admire a large bouquet of roses that had been set out as a gift in my honor. The deep red blooms smelled heavenly, and the one bright purple thistle—
A thistle?
Scotland.
Will.
My heart flew into my throat. I pushed past a crowd of people speaking with Josephine and Manoj, and finally escaped out the garden door.
The cool evening air brushed my skin and I glanced around the terraced garden. Standing by a fountain was a strong young man dressed in his finest kilt.
I ran into his arms, and he held me tight. I felt at once that I was both aloft, flying through the air, and yet had my feet solid and steady beneath me.
“I’ve missed you so,” I whispered against his warm neck as I inhaled the scent of far-off Scottish glens and the smoke of the fires of the Foundry.
During the whole of my apprenticeship, we had lived apart, visiting when we could, writing a flurry of letters until it had felt as if there should be no more to say, and yet every moment felt alive when I was with him.
“I’ve missed you, too,” he said, giving me a soft kiss full of longing. He touched his forehead to mine. “I never doubted you, you know. I knew you could do it.”
“It wasn’t easy,” I confessed.
“Good things never are.” And with that he dropped down to kneel at my feet.
My heart suddenly hammered to life, and all thoughts fled completely from my head. I took a step backward, shocked, but Will caught my hand and held it to his heart.
“For the love of all things holy, Meg, now will you marry me?” He waited there, calm and steady, for my answer.
I snorted inelegantly, and Will did his best not to smile. I was in a right state. My head was rushing with a million thoughts, but not a single one objected.
“Of course I will. I love you,” I said. “My beautiful rock.”
He bowed his head and laughed, then pushed to his feet and swept me up. He swung me around until I felt I was flying. I clung to his neck, and he finally stopped spinning. Feeling dizzy, I cupped his rough cheek in my hand and kissed him with all the love in my heart.
“What am I going to do with you, my wild bird?” he whispered against my lips, then kissed me again.
“Live an amazing life?” I suggested.
He laughed again, holding me close.
And I knew it would be true.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing this trilogy has been a remarkable experience, and I’d like to deeply thank everyone at Simon & Schuster for all your hard work, your dedication, and your stunning vision for this series. I’d especially like to thank my editors, Michael Strother and Liesa Abrams, for your keen eyes and all your support, especially Michael for his valiant efforts in helping me give a copy to my beloved high school English teacher, in spite of all the mishaps that happened along the way. I’d also like to give my deepest thanks and admiration to everyone in the art department for developing and creating such stunning covers for the entire series. They are true works of art, and I am proud to have them on my shelves.
I couldn’t do this without the help and support of my family. I’d like to thank Mom for helping to brainstorm some of the Amusements for me, and also my engineer husband for pointing out that putting a pendulum in a moving object is a really bad idea. Thank you to my children for your patience while Mommy was working, and for your pride at what I have created.
This is the first book I have dedicated to my friend and critique partner, Angie Gwinner, but it is certainly not the first time she has deserved the honor. In a way, all of my books are dedicated to her, because it is true—I couldn’t do this without her. We have been working together for many years, and I hope we continue to work so well together for many years to come.
And finally, I’d like to thank the fans of the series, who have loved these books and occasionally taken the time to let me know. You are the best. I don’t write for me, I write for you. Thank you all.
Kristin Bailey grew up in the middle of the San Joaquin Valley in California. In the course of her adventures, she has worked as a zookeeper, a balloon artist, and a substitute teacher. Now she is a military wife and the mother of two children and several very spoiled pets. Find out more at kristinbailey.com.
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ALSO BY KRISTIN BAILEY
The Secret Order · Book One
Legacy of the Clockwork Key
The Secret Order · Book Two
Rise of the Arcane Fire
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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First Simon Pulse hardcover edition February 2015
Text copyright © 2015 by Kristin Welker
Jacket wolf sculpture and photograph copyright © 2015 by Matthew Lentini
Jacket photograph of Paris copyright © 2015 by Thinkstock
Series Design by Angela Godda
rd
Jacket Designed by Regina Flath
Jacket Wolf Sculpture and photograph Copyright © 2015 by Matthew Lentini
Jacket photographs of Paris copyright © 2015 by Thinks Tock
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Bailey, Kristin.
Shadow of the war machine / by Kristin Bailey. — Simon Pulse hardcover edition.
p. cm. — (The Secret Order ; book 3)
Summary: Meg has searched the globe for answers about why her parents were killed; where her grandfather disappeared to; and above all, the identity of the man with the clockwork mask behind all this treachery. At last, she has clues that will lead her to the shocking truth.
[1. Secret societies—Fiction. 2. Orphans—Fiction. 3. Love—Fiction. 4. London (England)—History—19th century—Fiction. 5. Great Britain—History—Victoria, 1837–1901—Fiction. 6. Science fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.B15256Sh 2015 [Fic]—dc23 2014009547
ISBN 978-1-4424-6805-4 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-4424-6807-8 (eBook)
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven