Bronze Gods

by A. A. Aguirre

  “Really?” He paused by the vehicle. “You know, that would easily buy us a small place in the far south.” He watched her expression change before flashing her a grin. “Kidding. I’d gladly hand him over to Bihár, then to Aevar, for free.”

  Mikani slid into the driver’s seat, and she settled next to him. As he started the vehicle, she said, “Oh, that’s not what I was thinking at all.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  Her smile was positively mischievous, not a look he’d ever before associated with Ritsuko. “I wasn’t sure if you realized you just suggested we move in together.”

  His eyes widened. “I don’t do windows.” He gave her a sideways glance, trying to gauge her mood.

  “You cook. I’ll clean. That seems fair.” She wasn’t looking at him, her face in profile, so he couldn’t be sure if she was teasing. But even if he could see her eyes, he might not be able to tell, as she had a fairly effective poker face when required. Gods and spirits, is she serious? This is Ritsuko. Why am I not more worried?

  “Fishing. Farming a little. Maybe some arts and crafts.” He glanced over at her briefly. “We’d drive each other insane in two days. Tops.”

  She laughed. “Relax, Mikani. I am moving, but not into your cottage.”

  Damned be. Can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed. What’s gotten into me?

  “Oh, so you think we need a bigger place? Gods and spirits, woman, at least wait until we have the reward.” He turned his attention to the road.

  “There is no satisfying me.” Her words were spoken lightly, but the tone struck him as a challenge.

  It was an hour and a half’s drive to their destination, fifteen minutes added for quarrels in the street. Once, Mikani climbed out of the cruiser and broke up a fight. Ten more minutes passed while he argued with the Summer Clan trying to stop traffic inside the city as well. The bravos were all spoiling for a fight, darkly brooding, and it wouldn’t take much to provoke one. The House Guards were equally prone to whipping out their weapons, as they must be feeling the pressure from above. Part of him was glad Electra’s death hadn’t gone unnoticed—that her loss hadn’t been swept beneath the rug—but he couldn’t let the nomads drive the entire city into chaos as they seemed inclined to do.

  When he got in the vehicle, Ritsuko was smiling. “I swear you thrive on this.”

  “You’ve heard Gunwood. I live for trouble.” He studied the road up ahead, then added, “We’re close now.”

  • • •

  RARELY HAD RITSUKO traveled beyond the city limits. Her grandfather hadn’t liked the countryside, too full of spirits, he said, though she had never sensed anything amiss. Out here, the stars gleamed brighter away from the competing gaslight. But it was also equally quiet, no hansoms, no people going about their lives. There was only the whisper of the wind in the trees and the crunch of the cruiser’s wheels against the rocky road leading down to a ramshackle farm that appeared abandoned. She saw no lights anyway.

  Mikani parked. “Well, if I intended to build a death machine, this would be the place for it.”

  “Let’s check it out.” She swung out of the vehicle and checked her weapon. Usually, it was her credentials, but she suspected the gun would prove more useful.

  “He’s been here.” Mikani looked around, his head tilted. “There’s that sense of decay all around. Faint, though.” He patted his side pocket, presumably to ensure his revolver was there, then he hefted his walking stick.

  “You can tell that, all the way out here?” She shivered, fearing what the decrepit building held in store.

  He made his way toward the farmhouse. “You know, when you cook a dish often enough, how the smell just permeates the kitchen for days? It’s like that. He did . . . whatever it is he does in here so often that the stench is ingrained in the air now.”

  “I don’t, actually. I rarely cook. But I’ll take your word for it.”

  Ritsuko picked a path across the moonlit yard, drawing her weapon as a precaution. The bantering mood left her, replaced by a fierce determination. At Dinwiddie’s flat, they’d stumbled onto Toombs unaware, but that wouldn’t happen again. If the maniac was hiding here, perhaps he had a way in and out of the city, avoiding the checkpoints and barricades. It would explain why nobody had caught him yet.

  With Mikani’s comforting presence at her back, she crossed to the farmhouse door, which was locked. It didn’t appear to be particularly well made, however. She gave him some room, gesturing. “Have at it.”

  He mock-bowed to her, then slammed a kick just below the handle. The inner frame shattered, and he grabbed the door when it swung back. “Easy does it.” He led the way into the dark house.

  The place smelled musty, hints of mold and mildew that indicated a leak in the roof. There was also a trace of decay, an animal stench, as if something had crawled inside and died. But that was an old scent, not fresh like a newly rotten corpse. Ritsuko hated that she knew the difference. As she went farther into the house, her eyes adjusted to the gloom, so she made out a platter of meat, crawling with maggots.

  Mikani peered through the two other doorways. “Living room, in worse shape than the kitchen. A storage cupboard. If he lives here, he’s got a thing for squalor. Upstairs?”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  Tension clamped down on her spine as she went up the stairs, watching Mikani’s back. He gripped his sidearm, surveying the blind spots before swinging up the rest of the way. From within the walls came scrabbling noises, claws, perhaps, or wings. Bats? Rats? Both, probably.

  He paused at the top of the stairs. “I’ll check left, then right.”

  “Just search the second bedroom. I’ve got the other.”

  Ritsuko didn’t think there was anybody home. They hadn’t been quiet in breaking down the door; nor did either of them tread up the stairs like ghosts. Some of her fear scaled back, leaving her more or less clearheaded and prepared to investigate.

  He cut her a look, but he didn’t argue, merely went along to the bedroom farthest from the stairs. She shoved the door before her open with the heel of her sturdy boot. Within, it was dark, and the smell of decay wafted stronger. Bronze gods, I don’t think it was the meat after all.

  Her heart in her throat, she crept into the room, weapon clenched between both palms. But there was no movement, no sign of life. She skimmed the space in a single glance, taking in the pitiful mounds beneath the tattered blankets. Ritsuko took two more steps to confirm her suspicions.

  “Mikani!” She pitched her voice only loud enough to carry. “Two bodies in here.”

  He was at her side in a heartbeat. “They’ve been here awhile.”

  Even in the dim moonlight, she saw how desiccated the skin was, sunken back into their cheeks. The hands curled like claws; their limbs were skeletal. Here and there, she saw places where scavengers, carrion-eaters, had gnawed. It was impossible for her to guess how old these people might’ve been, but by their presence in the same bed—

  “I’m guessing they were a married couple.”

  Mikani peered at them more closely. “He slit their throats here. The sheets are stiff with old blood. Several cuts; he wasn’t quick or merciful.”

  Hard tremors rocked through her. “What kind of monster does this? He treated them like they were animals.”

  “Let’s check the barn, then we can see about putting these people to rest, partner.”

  Ritsuko couldn’t get out of that room fast enough. Though she had been around corpses before, she’d never found one. Always, when she arrived, it was with plenty of forewarning, a proper report filed, and that gave her the time to prepare mental defenses. Tonight, she felt awful and shaky; and she couldn’t stop counting the dead in her head.

  Cira Aevar.

  Oliver Dinwiddie.

  Electra Bihár.

  Now they had two more victims. It made no sense that Toombs only killed young women in the convoluted apparatus. Anyone else, apparently, could be dispatched efficien
tly, or messily, through whatever expedient means fell to hand. Her breathing sounded unsteady in the quiet. Bronze gods, I hope Mikani can’t tell how scared I am. I’ll never hear the end of it.

  Across the yard, the barn loomed. That must be where he builds the terrible machines. Feigning bravery she didn’t feel, she marched to the weathered door to examine the shiny padlock clamped to it.

  Mikani leaned close at her shoulder, checking the mechanism. He drew out his kit, appeared to give the tools within cursory consideration, and put the case away; apparently, he thought finesse would take too long. He tested the iron rings holding the lock to the door. With a nod, he wedged his walking stick between the padlock and door and pulled, hard, tearing the rings from the old wood with a loud crack.

  “Sometimes I think you just keep me around for my larcenous skills.”

  Ritsuko whispered, “That, and your manly thews. But how did you know?”

  “Caught you looking at my picks more than once. I don’t hear anyone inside.”

  “Sense anyone?” Ritsuko readied her weapon, hands shaking. She’d only discharged it at practice targets, but Toombs wouldn’t get away again.

  The reward’s dead or alive.

  He shook his head. “I can just sense the void. Even you’re . . . blurry.”

  A disquieting thought occurred to her. “But if he’s cold, dead, as you’ve said before, how would you know?”

  Mikani hesitated. “Honestly? I’m guessing.”

  “That’s comforting.” With a wry smile, she eased into the storage building, only to draw up short at an ominous click in the darkness. “Mikani . . . what just happened?”

  “Don’t move.” He sounded deadly serious; he crouched next to her. “There’s a metal plate on the floor, trap under it, I think. Given what we know of Toombs, I don’t imagine it’s anything good, either. So hold very still.”

  “Well,” she said quietly. “If this is it, I wouldn’t trade a minute of the past three years. If you don’t mind, put flowers on my grandfather’s grave for me, once a year.”

  “Shut up.” Navigating past carefully, he rummaged around nearby. “You’re not leaving me with the paperwork for this.”

  Her knees trembled. She felt conscious of every breath she took, every infinitesimal shift. The weight of the gun in her hand grew with each passing second. Fear made her palms slippery, but she couldn’t wipe them. She didn’t dare move.

  “Admit it. You’ll be lost without me.”

  He dragged a small crate filled with what sounded like metal bits toward her. “There really is no satisfying you, is there? On three—”

  “You should go. If it goes off during the shift, you’ll be caught, too.” She didn’t want him risking his life for her; it would be better knowing Mikani made it out.

  He stood, his features a hard mask of barely controlled anger. “So help me, we both make it out of here or neither. I’m done debating this with you. Like I said, on three.”

  In a movement so fast it made her dizzy, he slid the crate onto the plate and curled an arm around her waist. Mikani yanked her all the way off her feet as he sprinted out the door. Behind them, something whirred. And then a thundering concussion blew them forward, a fusillade of copper shards raining down, cutting into the open door and chewing at the frame. Ritsuko landed on her face, and her first reaction was pure surprise. Her back stung, but . . . I’m still alive.

  “One two three.” Mikani rose to his elbows and looked back at the barn, ducking as fragments of metal kept falling. “Damned be. I think most of that mess came from the box of scraps. Guess you’re not as light as I thought, partner.”

  “Do you want me to hit you?” She dropped her face against her hands and swung like a pendulum between the urge toward tears and hysterical laughter.

  He sniffed. “Women usually threaten to hurt me only after we’ve moved in together.”

  “And thus, you bring up cohabitation for the second time tonight. Ask a third time, Mikani, and I’ll show up with my luggage. It would serve you right.” She pushed out a shaky breath. “Also, thank you for my life.”

  He pushed to his feet and offered her a hand up. “Least I could do.”

  Ritsuko actually needed his support, between the dizziness and her sore back. While he might be used to it, she tried not to get injured on a weekly basis. When he pulled her upright, she left her hand in his. “And I’m sorry I argued. I just didn’t want anything to happen to you.”

  He glanced away, then back at her, his expression inscrutable. “Just what do you think would become of me without you?”

  “You’d drink a lot. Sing some sad songs.” She smiled and freed her hand. “At the risk of sounding addled, I’m afraid we need to go back in there. We didn’t have a chance to investigate at all.”

  Mikani sighed. “Stubborn, single-minded woman. Let me go first this time.”

  CHAPTER 20

  THAT MORNING, AURELIA POSTED A NOTICE AT THE ROYALE that read: REHEARSAL CANCELED, then followed Leo out to a waiting hansom. She hadn’t gone home. Instead, she’d spent three days hiding in the theater, and he didn’t argue when she asked him to leave the lamp on. Oh, she’d tried to carry on rehearsals as usual, but she was too nervous, too scattered, and each day, she turned the practice over to an assistant. Even sitting below the stage felt like too much exposure. For the first time, she understood how Leo felt about his mask.

  As a measure of how strong his friendship was, he stood outside with her on a sunny morning when he hadn’t left in months. He handed her into the coach and gave the address. She didn’t know if he believed her story, but he said she needed to tell it to the authorities if she felt brave enough. Forty minutes later, she walked through the lobby of CID Headquarters. Aurelia was conscious of the fact that she didn’t look like an upstanding member of society. She’d been forced to bathe as Leo did, and to rummage in the costume department for something suitable to wear.

  Leo led the way to the lift, ignoring the looks and whispers about his mask. Once inside the clanking monstrosity, he said, “This will be over soon.”

  “I hope so.”

  The main room opened up directly from the lift with desks and officers hurrying between them. It was more bustle than she expected, but Leo didn’t let her hang back. He towed her toward the nearest constable. The young man was bright-eyed and crisply pressed in his uniform. He’ll never believe me.

  “I need to report four murders,” she said.

  “Four?” The constable set his teacup on the desk, looking flummoxed.

  “Don’t you need to write this down?” Leo asked.

  “I won’t be taking the report for such a serious crime. I’m not an inspector. Let me see who’s available to take your statement.” He escorted them to a small room with a table and four chairs. “Someone will be with you presently.”

  There were no windows, and the walls were painted a grim, industrial gray. “Do you suppose this is where they interrogate the criminals?”

  Leo pressed her hand. “I imagine he just wasn’t familiar with the protocol. He looked rather . . . green.”

  According to the interminable tick of her pocket watch, it was ten minutes before anyone came. After the door opened, two men stepped through: one was thin, with a sly, narrow face and deep-set eyes; the other had a round belly and had lost most of his hair. The second man should possess a jolly air, but his eyes dispelled that illusion, quiet and hard rather than warm. Neither inspector looked delighted to have caught this task.

  “Ma’am. I’m Inspector Shelton,” the thin one said.

  The portly man offered his hand; his clasp was damp and cool, like a dead fish. “Cutler. I understand you witnessed a disturbing event recently.”

  Forget what they think. You came forward to tell the truth.

  In as concise a manner as possible, she related what she’d seen though she omitted the part about Theron’s hands turning into claws. By their impatient expressions, she was straining their credulity
with even the edited version of this wild tale. Before she finished, Shelton was drumming his fingertips on the table in a not-so-subtle demand for her to wrap things up.

  “Thanks for your civic responsibility, ma’am. The constable you spoke to initially will take your name and address should we have further questions.” By his tone, Cutler didn’t expect that to happen.

  “Are you taking this seriously?” Leo demanded.

  Shelton smiled, but it wasn’t polite. “It sounds to me like four lowlifes tried to rob the wrong man. No great loss.”

  And not worth CID resources, Aurelia guessed.

  “You didn’t see the fight,” she said quietly. “He’s dangerous.”

  The two inspectors traded a look, then insulting smiles. “That’s all we need.”

  There was no point in protesting further; feeling ridiculous and faintly ashamed, she stood. I hid, fearing reprisal, and they think I’m a hysterical female. Leo had his hands curled into fists, as if he fought the urge to pummel both of them. She set her hand on his arm, rigid as she’d expected.

  “It’s fine. We tried.” But Aurelia had rarely felt so humiliated, so disreputable, as if she were a scorned woman out to make trouble for a man who didn’t want her.

  If they discover you’ve had dinner at Theron’s villa, they’ll believe that’s true.

  It felt imperative to get out of here, before something worse happened. Leo wrapped his arm around her shoulders, shepherding her toward the door. “Let’s go. What incompetent buffoons,” he added, before they left earshot.

  “Which of my esteemed colleagues are you lambasting?” a familiar voice asked.

  When Aurelia turned, she recognized Inspectors Mikani and Ritsuko. The former looked worse for the wear, his face so many colors that it could be a work of art. By contrast, his partner reflected cool elegance though her movements appeared too careful, as if she might have a hidden injury.

  Shelton and Cutler stepped out of the room behind them. Mikani nodded, then said to Ritsuko, “I’d have laid odds on that.”