“What do you have to say for yourself?” Sandorf snapped.
Drailey’s hands crackled with heat as she gathered herself. “Run,” Drailey said, and fed the machine.
Energy poured from her hand, leaving her arm numb and hollow. The machine clanged, roared, shuddered as it consumed the power she fed it. The sleeve of her jacket smoked. She kept pushing.
Faster, faster.
“What?” Sandorf managed, before a bolt shot free from the boiler and caught him in the temple. He fell limp.
Calide gasped. Drailey flashed him a look. She knew her eyes were glowing. She felt the familiar pulsing in her irises. Calide ran.
Something deep in the machine, groaned. Broke.
Time.
Drailey spun, swept the vials into her satchel and threw it over her shoulder. Something cracked behind her, something exploded. Loudly.
She hit the floor on her hands and knees. Her ears rang. Pain tore up her arms. She gasped in agony. Smoke curled around her across the floor. Itching, biting smoke.
Coughing, Drailey forced herself up and stumbled toward the back wall. Her own shadow stretched tall and mad ahead of her.
Someone back in the chaos shouted; if at her, she didn’t know.
She fumbled in her satchel with numb fingers. Everything felt dull and shapeless.
Another shout, this one definitely about her.
Her hand came out holding a small grey disk the size of a coin. After this night she wasn’t going to have anything left, but there was no point in conserving equipment now. She shrugged and flung the disk back over her shoulder. It struck ringing, then exploded with a flash.
More screaming. Thicker smoke whipped around her. Drailey ignored it all, rummaged in her satchel and came up with what she needed.
The tiny, dark sphere rolled slippery between her fingers and she had to cup it in her palms to not drop it.
She stared down at it. Nothing happened.
“Come on,” Drailey hissed, cupping her hands closer together.
Back in the building, something heavy crashed to the ground. Flames roared, the smoke whipped by in thick, billowing clouds.
She focused, strained…then with a grunt, heat reached her palms, and a gleam ran through the sphere as if a million stars blazed to life within.
Drailey reared back and threw the orb into the back wall of the building. The sphere shattered with a tinkle of glass, but one which instead of fading, reverberated, grew, echoed along wood and stone. With a smirk she blew toward the wall as a fresh gust of hot air whipped past her.
Like sand before a tide, a chunk of wall collapsed into a pile of dust. Night lurked beyond the ragged ten-foot gap. Before dashing through the building’s new exit, Drailey fished the last piece of the puzzle from her pocket and slammed it quivering into the nearest standing post. Firelight flickered along the edge of the silver blade.
Then she was gone.
She ran hard for two blocks, ducked around a corner, and forced herself to slow. Behind her the roar and crackle of flames rebounded from buildings.
Time, there’s still enough time.
The original plan was ash now, but that’s why she always had a backup plan. Of course this one was even stupider than her other idea. As if that mattered now.
As her eyes searched the shadows, her numb hands dug through her satchel once again. About the time her eyes locked on the figure leaning against a closed butcher shop, her hands pulled free the pen and sheafs of paper she sought.
“Hey, you, come here,” she said.
The figure, a teenager with an ‘S’ tattooed on his cheek, eyed the dirty, singed Drailey suspiciously, but approached while she scribbled furiously across the papers.
And now for the crazy part.
Without pausing to look up, Drailey spoke.
NOW
“This is all you’re getting,” Drailey said, and nodded to the vials laid out on the table.
“Is that so, little bird?” Mawren said and leaned forward in her seat.
Drailey should’ve been scared, she knew that, but she was too damn tired. Instead of shying away she swept her other hand up over the table. A small, glittering sphere rested between her thumb and index finger. She held it over the stack of vials on the table. “I bet you know what this is, and what it will do if I drop it.”
Mawren smiled, but moved no closer. “Your sister—”
“Will be fine,” she said. “By now, her oil’s been delivered.”
“You have been busy,” Mawren said, and Drailey thought her eyes would’ve gleamed if she could see them.
“You have no idea,” she said, and held Mawren’s gaze until the killer leaned back.
Drailey continued. “This is what you’re getting.”
“This was not our agreement.”
“I’ll make up for it.”
“How? You going to follow me around, little bird? I might like that.”
Drailey laid a thick sheaf of papers atop the vials with her free hand, tilted so Mawren could see them.
The thin woman glanced down, back up. “What is this?”
“Diagrams for a machine to create more oil.”
“Like the one you used?”
“Better,” Drailey said.
A pause. “Say I believe you. I bet this takes a long time to construct. Give to me the one you used instead.”
As if on cue, a new tongue of flame painted the clouds above the docks, and a moment later, a ragged boom rolled across the rooftop.
“That machine is no longer in service,” Drailey said.
The flame’s reflection bent and twisted across the lenses of Mawren’s goggles. She looked up, back down, and broke into wild laughter. When it subsided she said, “I can guess of only one machine out there like this. Its owner won’t be pleased. I think I’m looking at a dead little bird.”
Drailey got ready to drop the sphere. “Unless he thinks someone else did it,” Drailey said and tossed a kerchief on to the table. A cloth with the black outline of a knife upon it. “Someone who recently killed four of their men.”
Rather than spring across the table and tear her throat out, Mawren smiled broadly, as wide as Drailey had ever seen, showing every one of her sharp teeth. “Not bad little bird, not bad at all.”
For a moment Drailey thought the killer might clap. She didn’t. Instead she leaned forward until her face nearly touched the sphere over table.
“But let me ask you, little bird, do you think this is going to save you after you broke my deal?” She licked her lips. “I have the formula, I have your plans, and I have your medicine. And I’m very fast. You think I can’t end you before you drop that sphere?”
Here it was, the end. After everything, Drailey was too tired to do anything but look death in the eye and blow her a kiss. Mawren froze.
“Do you think I’d pit myself against you?” Drailey asked. “Kill me. Do it, and find out how long you survive when everyone finds out you’re just as sick as my sister.”
Mawren’s brows came together. She cocked her head.
“I know the signs. I’ve lived with them for years. The twitch in your cheek. The way you smile to hide it. Your fever. The reason you shave your head and dye the rest.”
Mawren said nothing.
“And I don’t think anyone else knows. If this is so important to your boss, why don’t I see any of his other henchmen with you? Why did you threaten a rival chemist so that she fled the city? Only someone desperate and reckless attempts that. Someone who can’t go to anyone they know.”
“And if I end you. . .”
“Everyone finds out,” Drailey added. “The message is already out there, circling through the scurriers.” She waved her ink stained fingers. “It’s amazing what enough coins will buy from them. Even an endless message that gets delivered if anything happens to me. Or my sister.”
“You’re going to start a rumor to save yourself?”
“This is the Del, when is a rumor not e
nough?”
After a long drawn out pause. Mawren leaned back in her chair. When she spoke again, her voice was almost petulant. “So, little viper, I take it this is goodbye?”
“As I’m never going to see you again, yes, it is.” Drailey pushed up from the table. “Find someone else to save your wretched life.”
Without another word, Drailey walked away. Mawren didn’t follow.
LATER
Milky morning light, filtering through Glad’s windows, fell across Drailey as she rested in a ragged high backed chair. Her eyes were closed, her clothes still singed. One arm lay wide, her ink stained fingers holding a pale hand.
Belesa lay beside her, not on a pallet, but in a shallow bath full of swirling, oily fluid. Her hair and cotton shift fluttered as if in an invisible current.
Drailey’s chest rose and fell slowly.
Belesa squeezed her hand.
Drailey’s eyes snapped open.
Belesa’s eyes were open as well, just barely, but pale blue irises watched her through white lashes.
Drailey’s lips stretched in her first smile in an eternity, and she crouched over the bath, wanting to touch her sister’s cheek, and knowing she couldn’t risk it for the amount of oil in the pool.
“There’s that look I love,” she said. “How’s my little bluebell?”
Belesa’s lips curved in a tiny smile. Drailey thought her heart would explode. “And that smile. Are you feeling better?”
Belesa nodded softly, and the oily fluid rippled around her, throwing back the morning light in a dozen shining beams.
She opened her mouth, but Drailey shook her head and squeezed her sister’s hand. “You rest. We can talk later.”
Belesa let out a gentle breath, squeezed her hand again, and closed her eyes. In moments she slept.
Glad came in shortly after.
“She woke up for a moment,” Drailey said, still looking down at her sister. “I think she’s going to be alright.”
Glad waited a moment before speaking, as if waiting for the statement to dissipate. “Mnemoil’s not working as well any more. It hasn’t been for a while. Even that massive dose barely broke the fever.”
“There’s going to be more soon,” Drailey said.
“I know. Scurriers with the formula have been showing up at clinic doors all over the Del. I heard we have you to thank for that.”
Drailey shrugged.
Glad sighed. “We can try stronger doses, but they’re only holding the infection at bay. We need—”
“A cure,” Drailey said. “Yeah, I know. I’m still looking.”
“Until then?”
Drailey carefully lowered her sister’s hand back into the bath then took a deep breath and stood. Outside the new day was coming to life. The last day of Advent.
“The same thing as yesterday, I keep her alive until she’s cured,” she said, and headed back into the city.
Thank You
Thanks so much for being a part of my mailing list and reading this story. I hope you’ve enjoyed it.
If you haven’t yet checked out Gearspire: Advent, the novel is available now from Amazon.
Drailey plays a big part in that tale, and it answers more questions about her story. So if you were wondering where she had returned from as this story opened, or what unexpected help she received, the answers reside in that book.
As for the future? Drailey will certainly return, but you’ll have to wait for the second Gearspire novel for that. Keep an eye out on the mailing list for updates about that book and other stories I’ll be releasing soon.
About the Author
Jeremiah Reinmiller is a lifelong computer geek, martial artist, and native of the Pacific Northwest. When he’s not building clouds (the computing kind, not the rainy ones) he’s probably hunched over a keyboard hammering out words in a semi-organized fashion. His stories have received the 2014 Sledgehammer Writing Award, and been published by Subtopian Press, Abyss & Apex Magazine, and Cantina Publishing. He resides in Vancouver (the one in Washington, not Canada) with his wife and their two cats. Information on what he’s up to, and more of his stories can be found at www.jqpdx.com.
Double Blind, A Gearspire Story Page 3