The Girl in the Clockwork Collar tsc-2

by Kady Cross

  Griffin tried not to stare at her bare shoulders—he had seen them before, but with her all dressed up, looking like a debutante, it seemed different. “Robbery? Good Lord, Fin! What if you get caught?”

  A lopsided smile curved her lips. “I have been caught—by you.”

  His scowl returned. “Did Dalton give you the dress?”

  She flounced the skirt of the gown. “Yeah. Not bad, eh? He picked it out.”

  Griffin’s eyes closed. Silently, he swore. “What did you steal?” Since Dalton had whipped by him like the house was on fire, he determined that the outlaw must have whatever they had been looking for in his possession.

  “Floor plans for the New York Museum of Science and Invention.”

  He cleared his throat. “What does he want with those?”

  “Dunno. As soon as I find out, I’ll let you know. I think this will secure me a place within the gang.”

  She didn’t have to sound so bloody pleased about it, though he had to admit he was proud of her. “Have you spoken to Jasper?”

  “Not yet, but I will. He hasn’t ratted me out, so I’m pretty certain he’s not with Dalton of his own choice.”

  Griffin rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t like this.”

  Talking her out of this was not an option, not if they were going to help Jasper—or determine if Jasper even needed their help. Her plan was working. Still, Griff wished there was another way. If she was caught, arrested ... He didn’t know if even he could help her. Worse, there was a slight gleam in her eye that worried him. Was she enjoying this bit of crime and intrigue?

  Was her darker side going to prove to be dominant over the light?

  “It’s getting late,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “I need to get back before Dalton starts to wonder where I am.”

  He nodded. “How will you leave?”

  “Out the front door. I doubt the carriage will still be waiting. I’ll have to get a cab.”

  “A hack?” He didn’t mean to sound alarmed. “A hired driver could tell police about the girl he delivered to Reno Dalton’s doorstep.”

  Finley shook her head. “I’ll get out a block earlier.”

  He didn’t like not being in control. He didn’t like not being able to protect her—never mind that she was more than capable of protecting herself. But instead of ranting about it, he only nodded. “I’ll check the corridor.”

  “Griffin, you can’t be seen helping me.”

  He didn’t listen. Instead, he went to the door and opened it just enough to peek out into the corridor. Miss Astor-Prynn was headed in their direction. “Damnation,” he muttered. “You’d better hide. We’ve company coming.”

  “I have a better idea.” Her voice came from directly behind him.

  He turned his head. “What’s that?”

  He barely saw her fist before it connected with his jaw. Pain exploded in his skull, and then everything went black.

  Chapter 7

  Finley caught Griffin as he fell and lowered him gently to the carpet. “Forgive me,” she whispered, but he was out cold.

  She leaped to her feet, gathered her skirts and bolted from the room. Her shoulder collided with a pretty but snooty-looking girl who made some snide remark. Finley really didn’t care what this bit of fluff thought of her. What concerned her was what Griffin was going to think of her once he woke up.

  Actually, at that moment, what concerned her most was getting out of this bloody house before the police were called. Sometimes—most times—she enjoyed a good fight, but she didn’t want to call any more attention to herself than she had to. Plus, Griffin would be ridiculed for being knocked out by a girl, so the less people who knew about that the better.

  She’d only done it so he wouldn’t try to help her and cause trouble for himself. She’d brought a far bit of it down on him in London and had no desire to do the same to him now.

  Thankfully, the loud music would mask any noise she made. Still, there were a few guests who stopped to stare as she raced by them, skirts hiked up around her knees.

  At the top of the stairs, she leaped into the air, dropped in a flutter of petticoat and silk, and landed in a crouch at the bottom, the jolt reverberating in her shins. Then she sprang up, toward the door. Angry voices rang out behind her. Someone shouted, “Stop her!”

  The poor footman tried to oblige, but she pushed him aside. The automaton next to him wasn’t programmed for security, so it didn’t even move.

  Down the steps she ran, into the night. A steam carriage passed by, and she ran for it, hopping easily onto its back and clinging to the bar. She couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder at the small crowd gathered in front of the house, spilling down the steps to the street. A tall man shook his fist at her.

  Exhilarated by her escape, Finley blew him a kiss. She rode the carriage as far as she could down 5th Avenue before hopping off. She bought a meat pie from a vendor on the corner of 42nd and gave the money she would have used for a hack to a beggar-woman who had a child with a tarnished brass prosthetic leg. The woman hugged her, and Finley almost gagged at the smell of her, poor wretch. She made sure the mother bought a pie for herself and the boy before she moved on.

  It was a beautiful night, and the walk soothed her heightened senses. She walked the rest of the way to Dalton’s house with a spring in her step and a full belly.

  She wasn’t certain, but for a second, she thought she saw a man on the street ahead of her—one wearing a long coat and a cowboy hat. Whip Kirby again? Whoever he was, he was gone in a blink, and Finley was left wondering if maybe she’d imagined him.

  It had been fun sneaking into the party and stealing those papers. Hitting Griffin was a bit of a low point, but at least she’d had the chance to tell him just what Dalton had been after before she did it. She could only hope that his pride could handle the ribbing he might get. Outside of that ... Well, she couldn’t dwell on it.

  If nothing else, Dalton would have to be convinced she was a worthy addition to his gang.

  So it was with a smug smile on her face that she strolled into Dalton’s parlor, heavy skirts swishing around her legs. Dalton was there, as well as Jasper and Mei. Mei had changed into a simple blouse and skirt, but she still had that strange collar around her throat. Now that she looked at it, it appeared to have cogs and gears in it—as though it were machine instead of jewelry. Maybe it was. For a second, she had the macabre thought that perhaps the collar was the only thing keeping the girl’s head attached to her neck.

  She’d seen people do some pretty scary things in the name of science, but she was still tempted to poke at the collar, just to see what would happen. She resisted the temptation.

  “Miss Finley,” Dalton said with an arched brow. “It is good to see you.”

  She grinned. “Sorry it took me so long. I had to hoof it part of the way.”

  “You dealt with our visitor?”

  “He’ll have a sore jaw tomorrow, and bruised pride, but nothing too serious.”

  “Meanwhile, I escaped with the papers relatively unnoticed.” He flashed her an appreciative smile. “I’m much obliged, Miss Finley.”

  “You’re welcome. May I ask what you’re going to do with them?”

  Dalton was still smiling as he set aside his cup of coffee. “You may, but I’m not inclined to answer just yet.”

  Her spine stiffened. “I thought I’ve proved I can be trusted.”

  Dalton’s lips curved in a manner meant to mollify. He could probably charm his way out of dying. “You did a good job, and I’m impressed. I’d like for you to join my gang. Do that, and I might see fit to start trusting you with important information.”

  She shrugged. She didn’t like it, but if she wanted in, she’d have to accept it. “Fine. What’s next?”

  No one had ever stared at her with quite the same intensity as Dalton. Under those sharp brows of his, icy-blue eyes gazed at her as though trying to look right through her.

  “You know
, I could always have a photograph taken, then you can stare at that as long as you want,” she informed him.

  Dalton smiled, then turned his attention away from her and fixed it on Jasper, who was so quiet she’d almost forgotten he was in the room. That wasn’t like him. Mei had been silent, as well; the pair of them acted like children who knew to be seen and not heard.

  “I want you to accompany my friend Jasper on an errand tomorrow. Make certain he gets the job done and return with him. Be here by eleven o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  When Finley’s gaze locked with Jasper’s, she saw all she needed to see. He might have made some bad decisions in his life, same as her, but there was no way he was part of Dalton’s scheme by his own free will. Tomorrow, if she did what Dalton asked, she might discover just what the devil was going on.

  She shrugged again. “All right. Eleven it is.”

  Dalton raised his cup. “Bring your belongings. You’ll live here from now on out.”

  It was only for a split second, but she froze—and Dalton saw it. She narrowed her eyes. “What’s the rent?”

  He took a sip of coffee and set the cup on the table once more. “Relax, darlin’. There’s no catch. You’re part of my crew now—my family. You live with me.”

  It would make getting information to Griffin, Emily and Sam that much more difficult, but she’d have her portable telegraph, and she might be able to sneak out on occasion. Besides, this is what they wanted. This would put her in a position to help Jasper.

  Still, it wouldn’t do to look too happy about it. “Just so we’re clear, I won’t abide any improper behavior.”

  “Improper behavior?” He mimicked her accent in such an awful way she wanted to slap him on behalf of Queen Victoria. “Sweetheart, I won’t deny that you’re the kind of gal who sparks my tinder, but you’re not here for my entertainment. I can get that elsewhere. You just do what I say, and we’ll get along fine.”

  Finley almost sighed. Why was it that all the pretty boys thought so highly of themselves?

  She leaned closer, looked him dead in his sparkling eyes and said, “You do know I could snap your neck like a chicken bone.”

  Across the room, she heard Mei gasp, but she didn’t bother to look. No doubt Jasper would shoot daggers at her with his eyes. She might very well just have ruined everything.

  Then Dalton reached out and patted her on the shoulder. “That’s why you’re here.”

  He was mad as a bloody hatter, but he hadn’t tossed her out, so that was something. One thing was for certain—she wasn’t going to start snapping at his heels anytime soon.

  He lifted his hand. “You’ve had a busy night. Why don’t you skedaddle? I imagine you have a lot to do before morning.”

  A dismissal if she ever heard one—and she was thankful for it. “I’ll just go change.”

  He waved a hand at her. “Take the dress with you. Keep it. What am I going to do with the thing?”

  What did he think she was going to do with it? It wasn’t exactly her style of gown. Still, it would be rude not to take it.

  “Thanks.” Then because she couldn’t think of anything else to say, “I’ll see you all in the morning.”

  She hastened another glance at Jasper, only to find him looking at her with rueful green eyes. She wondered what it was that he looked so apologetic over as she left the room.

  Then again, maybe she didn’t want to know.

  Griffin would have left the Astor-Prynn party immediately after regaining consciousness—which was about two minutes after Finley hit him—had the police not been summoned and he’d not been pressed into talking to them. He had just finished his interview, and his pride smarted from the amused look in the officer’s eyes when he’d told him what had happened.

  Bloody Finley.

  He roused to the sound of a high-pitched voice practically screaming at him. It was Miss Astor-Prynn, and to be fair, she had seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being. Would have been nice if she could have expressed her concern without sounding like a bloody banshee, though.

  The entire side of his face throbbed, especially his jaw. Hit by a girl—that would follow him for the rest of his stay. He was beginning to wish he’d never left England. No one would know that Finley hit with about the same force as a battering ram. No one but him.

  He moved his jaw and winced. Did she have to hit him quite so hard? She hadn’t needed to knock him out. He pressed his fingers to the back of his head. No pain, no lump. Obviously she’d caught him rather than let him hit the floor. How ruddy wonderful was that? Hit by a girl and then supported by one. She’d once picked him up and carried him after he’d absorbed too much Aether. Next thing, she’d be cutting his food for him or perhaps tying his shoes.

  He said his goodbyes to Mr. and Mrs. Astor-Prynn—both of whom had apologized several times already for an incident they believed to be their fault. He assured them he was fine and that he didn’t blame them. Then, because he felt badly for them, he agreed to come for dinner one night. Luckily, they hadn’t pressed him to set a date.

  He kissed Miss Astor-Prynn on the hand and bade her good-night, then went outside and climbed into the carriage they’d loaned him. He could have hailed a cab, but they had insisted. He would have agreed to let Mr. Astor-Prynn piggyback him all the way down 5th Avenue if he’d thought it would get him out of there any faster.

  When he returned to the hotel, Griffin found Sam and Emily waiting for him in Sam’s room. They were sitting on the bed playing cards. Emily’s cat sat on the carpet within arm’s reach. Ever since being injured in the fight against The Machinist, Emily kept the metal animal close—her protector. It was more than that, though. With her ability to “talk” to machines, the cat was more than just a thing to her. It was as much a friend as something without a heart could be.

  “How was the lecture?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

  “Brilliant,” Emily replied enthusiastically, looking up from her cards. Her face practically glowed. “Griffin, Tesla is a bloody genius.”

  “If he’s such a genius, why can’t he find words that everyone can understand?” Sam growled.

  Emily shot him an amused glance. “Someone fell asleep halfway through.”

  Griffin chuckled, then swore as pain rippled down the left side of his face. Both of them stared at him.

  “How was the party?” Emily asked, somewhat hesitantly as she stared at his bruising jaw.

  “Boring,” he replied as he unbuttoned his coat. “Until Finley showed up, that is.”

  Emily straightened, cards totally forgotten. “Finley was there? At the party?” A frown tugged at her forehead. “What happened to your face?”

  As he tossed his coat over a chair, Griffin sighed. “She was there with Dalton. Apparently he wanted her with him while he stole a set of building plans. As for my face, Finley happened, that’s what.”

  Sam scowled so hard his eyebrows almost became one solid black line. “She hit you? What the hell for?”

  “I assume to keep up appearances, but who knows what goes on in that head of hers.”

  “Did you start ordering her around?” Emily asked. “Maybe she just wanted to shut you up.”

  Griffin shot her a droll look. “Maybe.”

  Sam looked thoughtful. “You know what, Em? You’re the only one of us Finley hasn’t hit.”

  The Irish girl stared at him. “I haven’t given her reason, now, have I?”

  “Can we talk about something other than who Finley has and hasn’t punched and why?” Griffin asked—somewhat testily. “Like, what Dalton would want with floor plans to the Museum of Science and Invention?”

  “Maybe he wants a tour,” Sam suggested. When Griffin glared at him, he went on. “Won’t Finley tell us that when she comes back? If she hasn’t decided to run away and join Dalton’s gang for real, that is.”

  The pain in Griffin’s jaw increased. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that his teeth were clenched. “Tha
t’s assuming Dalton trusts her so quickly with that kind of information.”

  “Do you reckon she’s talked to Jasper?” Emily asked, hope in her wide eyes. “Maybe she’s found out what Dalton wants with him.”

  Sam scowled and began gathering up their cards. “Or maybe she’s found out Jasper’s a crook, too.”

  “Maybe,” Griffin allowed, ignoring the shocked look Emily shot him. “But I don’t think so. If Jasper was a willing party in this, Dalton never would have hired men to bring him here.”

  “He went willingly enough.”

  Griffin opened his mouth to debate but hesitated when he saw Emily place her small hand on top of Sam’s much larger one. “I know thinking the worst of people makes it hurt less when they disappoint you, lad, but not everything is as it seems.”

  “She’s right,” Griffin said. And that was why he’d wait until he’d talked to Finley before getting too angry over the fact that she’d hit him.

  Shifting uncomfortably, Sam turned his hand so that his fingers wrapped around Emily’s. Suddenly, Griffin felt like an intruder.

  “Not everyone sees the good in people like you do, Emmy,” Sam said.

  “She even sees the good in you” came a new voice from the door.

  Griffin’s heart leaped in response. Finley. He glanced at her over his shoulder. She had changed into her own clothes and looked so completely unaffected by the evening that he thought perhaps he had only imagined seeing her at the party. But then he saw the bundle of plum-colored silk beneath her arm.

  Emily bounced off the bed and came forward with an excited countenance. “Did you really hit Griffin? How’s Jasper? Did you find out what Dalton’s up to?”

  Finley drew back from the smaller girl’s enthusiasm. She shot Sam a look from the corner of her eye. “Did you give her coffee again?” Then to her friend, “Yes, I hit Griffin. I’m sorry, but it was necessary. Dalton hasn’t told me much of anything, and Jasper was ... quiet.”

  “Quiet?” Emily’s nose wrinkled as her demeanor calmed. “That doesn’t sound like him.”