Clockwork Heart: Clockwork Love, Book 1

by Heidi Cullinan

  Then Cornelius had to decide if he should ignore it all and keep shutting out the world, escape to his mother in London…or escape somewhere else entirely.

  Except if he couldn’t trust letters from his mother, couldn’t count on protection from his father—where in the world was he meant to escape to?

  Chapter Five

  When Cornelius entered the room, Johann put down his book with a frown. “You are unhappy.”

  Cornelius rubbed his arms, but the cold he felt had nothing to do with temperature. He paced before the window for a moment, then leaned against the sill and focused his attention on Johann. “I need to ask you some questions. I need you to answer me honestly.”

  Grimacing, Johann put his hands on the desk and nodded. “Yes. I answer everything.”

  Excellent. Now what did Cornelius ask? Are you here to steal the heart? Obviously not. He tried to think of how his mother would handle it. She could smile and get anyone to reveal anything. But Conny didn’t feel like smiling, and he wasn’t good at playing like Elizabeth. He was as terrible an actor as she was a tinker. So he searched for an opening query that wouldn’t give too much away but would hopefully give him a decent foothold to start.

  “How did you make up all that information about sky pirates and hooks?” The question, once out, released a host of others behind it. “I didn’t even know any of that. Is it true? What if Valentin had known you were lying?”

  At first he thought he must have used too many unfamiliar words because Johann didn’t say anything, but just as Conny was about to attempt to clarify, Johann spoke. “I was a pirate.” He cast a sad glance at Cornelius. “Not pretend. It is as you said, almost exactly. Except you didn’t find me when they leave me. The Austrian Army did.”

  Cornelius sank into a chair, mesmerized. “You…truly were a pirate? A sky pirate?”

  Johann nodded. “When I was sixteen. The army is bad. When I die in the army, they send my family no money. I become pirate, I maybe live longer. Make more money. Send it home.” He shut his eyes, looking decades older than eighteen.

  That would make an excellent question also. “How old are you, really?”

  “Eighteen.”

  Cornelius’s shoulders slumped. “Truly?”

  Johann frowned. “This is bad?”

  Cornelius blushed. “I’m twenty-four. Twenty-five next month.”

  Johann blinked. “You look young. More young than twenty-five.”

  “You look thirty. But I suppose that comes with war.” He rubbed his chin, acutely aware now of how little facial hair he had to the thick stubble Johann could grow by midafternoon. “Were you truly recruited at fourteen? That seems so young.”

  “Younger is better, they say.” He made screwing motions around his head, but his gaze was cold and almost angry. “Fix our heads. Make us think like army.”

  “Did it work on you?”

  Johann’s nostrils flared, and his jaw visibly tightened for several seconds before he replied. “War is wrong. War kills children and mothers and innocents.” He gestured to the window. “People here are kind. They want war? No. People in my village? No. People in castles? Yes. War is not for people. War is for—” he stopped and fished through the dictionary, “—politician.” He huffed. “It is almost the same word in German.”

  Cornelius scooted his chair closer. “What happened the night I found you? I’ve never asked, but…I need to know. Why were you on the barge? Why were you the only one alive?”

  Johann settled a little, more tired and sad than angry now. “They send—” He stopped to think. “They want us dead. They tell us try to win, but everyone know we will die.” He checked the dictionary again. “Distraction. We were distraction. Your army kill us like animals very fast. Except me, I am not dead during distraction, only very hurt.” He touched his nose. “Pretend. I hear stories about French. Take our bodies, make us soldiers with clockwork parts. So I think, better to die with brothers than be monster. They put me on barge with the dead. But then I wake with clockwork anyway.”

  Cornelius put a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry. I would never give you to any army. I detest war too.”

  Johann patted his hand. “Is good. You are good doctor.”

  Cornelius blushed. “I’m just a tinker. Tinker-surgeon, yes, but I’m no physician. Not by a long way.”

  “You are the best doctor I ever have.” Johann let go of Cornelius. “That is what happened. You set me free from Army and fixed my broken body. I thank you. I owe you much. I will answer all questions and do anything you ask.”

  It would be so easy for Cornelius to melt into him and fall under Johann’s spell. He tried to resist. “Do you know why they sent you on a suicide mission? What were you a distraction for?”

  “Something on other side of town. Airships have troops looking for weapon to destroy.”

  Cornelius frowned. “Destroy? Not steal?”

  “Destroy. They say so many times. Bad weapon, kill many Austrians.” He shrugged, as if to say he didn’t really believe them.

  This did not fit, though, with Félix’s report, or Conny’s mother’s letter. He worried the edge of his sleeve. “But you don’t know what weapon they spoke of?”

  Johann shook his head. “They tell us nothing.”

  “Why didn’t they try to steal the weapon?”

  “I don’t think they can use. I hear them talk when they don’t know I listen. They sound afraid. This weapon is bad. They say…” He consulted the dictionary again. “Corpse. Corpse who walk. This is weapon. But it sound like story.”

  Yes, it did—the same story Félix had just told him. Cornelius felt sick. Any country making an army of the dead would commit a crime beyond all other crimes.

  The secret to doing so lies in Johann’s chest. And he knows nothing about it.

  Probably.

  This time Cornelius took both of Johann’s hands. Conny’s heart, all too human and vulnerable, pinched inside his chest. “Things have happened today. Serious things. I…I believe I am in danger.”

  Johann sat up straighter, looking ready to go to battle. “Where is danger?”

  Cornelius tried to smile, but oddly it made him feel like he would cry. He steadied himself with a breath. “I need… I cannot tell who I can trust right now.” He pulled a hand away to clap it over his mouth as he closed his eyes, sending a few of the tears out.

  “Hush.” Johann brushed the tears away with his good hand. “No tears. I will keep you safe. I am strong. Good at walking now. I know weapons. Swords. Knives. I can fight. I will protect you.”

  Cornelius forced his eyes open and choked the words out of his throat. “Can…I trust you?”

  They seemed the stupidest words in the world, because of course a spy would lie, but Cornelius was not a spy. He was a sentimental tinker, and he wanted the man wiping away his tears to be real more than he wanted anything in the world.

  Johann took both of Cornelius’s hands again, drawing them to his mouth and kissing them with a reverence that sent shivers down Cornelius’s spine. “You saved my life. It is for you now. I serve you. Protect you. I am not enemy. I will not hurt. I only help.” He squeezed Cornelius’s fingers gently. “What is danger?”

  Cornelius was so tired, so overwhelmed, he wanted to weep, to hide in his bed, or better yet in his workshop and pretend none of this was happening. But he couldn’t. He let out a breath. “I think…I need to leave Calais. Tonight.”

  “Where will you go?”

  Cornelius bit his lip. “I…don’t know. My mother sent me a letter telling me to come to England, but it is so strange. Something about it feels wrong. I know it’s from her, but…I don’t know.”

  “I can read this letter?”

  “Oh—I’m sorry, no. It’s in English. She’s an actress, in London.”

  Johann’s sideways smile did devilish
things to Cornelius’s insides. “I speak English.”

  Cornelius’s mouth fell open. “You—you what?”

  “I know English.” He switched over to it, and his accent was almost gone, his words clearer. “I learned it with the pirates. They were English, and Chinese. But Chinese is very difficult to learn. I do know some curses, but that’s it.”

  Cornelius slouched in his chair, his hand to his mouth. “All this time. We could have been speaking all this time.” He cleared his throat. “So you read English as well?”

  “Yes. I make some mistakes, but not so many as French. But I spoke it for nearly two years, so it makes sense. May I see the letter, or is it private?”

  Cornelius passed it over as if in a dream. “I feel like such a fool. I didn’t even think to ask if you spoke other languages.”

  “Yes, stupid Austrians don’t often know anything but German.” When Cornelius blushed, he winked at him. “I’m teasing you.”

  He was so much more…eloquent in English. This time Cornelius’s blush had a bit to do with embarrassment but mostly was a side effect of his arousal. He’d become so accustomed to Johann being quiet, his conversation halting and rough. The realization that he could blossom into a wit with the simple switch of a language was like discovering a door leading to a house within a house.

  He passed over the letter and watched Johann read it, his lips moving occasionally as he did so. “I don’t think the Austrian Army would kidnap you. They have money, from the Turks and Italians, for aether.”

  “Yes—and I don’t think my father would pay a ransom anyway.”

  “What is the childhood game?”

  “I don’t know. We didn’t play games. I can’t recall a single one, in fact.” He shifted in his seat, taking a side of the letter so he could read it too. “My mother is an actress, but she used to be a spy as well. I wondered if maybe the letter is in code. But I’m wretched with codes. And all games, to be honest.”

  Johann rubbed his finger along the paper. “I can go to the docks and search the ships. I might not find anything, but it’s better than if you go.” He nodded to the clock on the wall. “You must meet Valentin for dinner.” He paused. “Is…he safe?”

  “I think so.” Cornelius gave a mirthless laugh. “I don’t know that anyone is safe anymore, to be honest.”

  Johann closed his hand over Cornelius’s. “I am safe. I swear on my mother’s name. Bertha.” He ran a finger down Cornelius’s cheek. “She would like you.”

  Without meaning to, Cornelius leaned into that finger, and all the yearning he’d been holding back rushed in with a vengeance. Johann’s gaze darkened, and the finger tracing Cornelius’s face became a hand cradling his cheek.

  “Now I will ask you a question,” Johann said, his voice rough.

  Cornelius swallowed, unable to stop staring at Johann’s stubble-surrounded lips. “Y-yes?”

  “You keep telling Valentin and Félix we are lovers. You kiss me, but only in front of others. You tell me we’re pretending.” His thumb brushed Cornelius’s chin. “Are we…pretending?”

  There was no saliva left in Cornelius’s mouth. “I…didn’t think you…took men. As…lovers.”

  Johann’s gaze didn’t waver. “I haven’t had any lovers. And no men have ever kissed me before.”

  “And…now that…one has?” He could barely get the words out of his mouth. Each one felt like sending life out of his lungs. Please do not reject me. Not you, Johann, not now. “What…what do you think of the…notion?”

  He didn’t smile, but his eyes danced like a devil’s. “I don’t know. I haven’t had a kiss that wasn’t pretend.”

  Cornelius’s exhale was an anguished sigh. “Johann, please—”

  And then he could say no more, because Johann’s lips were on his.

  Cornelius started to lean in, open his lips, then paused, still too nervous. It was an almost timid kiss. What if Johann were teasing? What—?

  Johann’s lips parted, his breath tingling Cornelius’s mouth. This time Conny’s sigh was surrender, and he opened too, taking Johann inside.

  He wanted to climb into Johann’s lap, to turn the kiss carnal, to beg Johann to press him into the floor, or the table, or the bed. But he could not make himself move, could only do what Johann led him to. Sweet, slow kisses that made him feel eighteen. The most he dared do was lure Johann’s tongue into play.

  Johann went, willingly, clumsily, with the eager awkwardness of inexperience. It made Cornelius weak in the knees. It made the knots in his belly untangle, the confusion and danger fade away, because all that mattered was this man, this kiss.

  The bell tower chimed in the distance, not quite breaking the spell, but reminding them there was more to the world than not-pretend kisses. Cornelius broke away gently, resting his forehead against Johann’s, nuzzling his nose.

  “So,” he said at last, his heart beating like a butterfly at his throat. “That…was acceptable?”

  Johann brushed a chaste kiss across Cornelius’s mouth. “Yes.”

  “I don’t think I can stay in Calais. Even if I don’t go on this ship.” He caught the fingers of Johann’s false hand, threading his through. “Would…would you come with me?”

  Johann squeezed back. “Of course.”

  Cornelius let out a shaky breath and shut his eyes. “Good. Because…I’m terrified.”

  “I will keep you safe.”

  After kissing Johann’s nose, Cornelius sat up. “I need to pack some things. And I must meet Valentin. Even if only for a few moments.”

  “Take all the time you need. Unless you think he can’t be trusted?”

  Cornelius didn’t know if it was because he was a fool, or because Valentin was, but he couldn’t imagine any scenario where his friend became his enemy. “I don’t think he’s dangerous.”

  “I don’t, either. He warned me not to hurt you, and I think he meant it.” He nodded, a decision made. “You should see him, at least to say goodbye. But don’t hurry. We should go at night. Harder to notice us then, and I can erase our tracks. I can inspect the ships while you visit.” He touched his peg leg. “I think I should wear the other one. I move better.”

  “Of course.” Cornelius rose to get it. “I need to pack supplies so I can repair you as well. And maybe a few other gadgets to make things easier.” He handed the leg to Johann. “Should—should I tell Félix?”

  Johann frowned as he unscrewed the peg leg. “Less is better, sometimes. If he doesn’t know where you are, he can’t tell anyone. If he doesn’t even know you’re leaving, he seems more genuine. They will hurt him less, if they interrogate him.”

  Cornelius clapped a hand over his mouth and sat down hard on a chair.

  Partly legless, Johann hobbled over and kissed his hair, squeezing his shoulder. “We will go tonight. Perhaps they won’t ask him any questions.”

  “But where will we go? I don’t know how to live on the run.”

  “I do. I promise to take care of you.” He kissed Johann’s cheek and sat back down to put his proper leg in place. “Pack your bag. Tell me how to help.”

  Cornelius rose unsteadily, staring blearily around the room. It was full, floor to ceiling, with his most precious collections: his books, his inventions, his gadgets, his tools. He would need three great carts to carry it all away. The idea of selecting down to a knapsack made him ill.

  Reminding himself the thought of dying or watching Johann die as they tore him open to steal his heart would make him far sicker, he steeled his resolve, picked up a leather satchel and began making difficult choices.

  * * * * *

  Johann thought about Cornelius all the way to the docks. Specifically, he thought about kissing Cornelius.

  It had been good, he thought. Johann wasn’t the most skilled at lovemaking, but kisses, it turned out, were kisses. And either Cornelius
was being very polite, or he’d found Johann adequate enough. The handy thing about kissing a man was his mouth didn’t have to tell you he thought you were worth kissing. His trousers would do it for you.

  Johann still found it a bit odd, to think he’d just kissed a man not for a pretense, but because he’d wanted to. It felt good. Right, even. He’d planned to die on that barge of corpses. He hadn’t intended to be reborn in the arms of a man, but there were definitely worse ways to live. He wasn’t certain others would agree with the acceptability of this kind of thinking, but Johann was highly disillusioned with what others expected him to do, especially since most of those expectations involved his misery or death.

  Cornelius had given Johann back his life. Now he intended to make sure Cornelius had every means to keep on living too.

  The sea docks at Calais would never die out, but they would forever now be the dingy cousin of the elegant, efficient sky docks farther along the pier. Sea travel was for fishermen, the poor, and any cargo so mundane even the insurance adjusters didn’t mind paying out a loss when the poorly maintained ships spoiled the cargo with their leaky holds, or something so heavy and awkward the cost of spending the aether was too prohibitive. Johann could understand, theoretically, a situation where a fine gentleman needing quick passage out of country would go by sea ship instead of airship. But having helped more than a few fugitives during his time on The Brass Farthing, he knew anyone taking that route had to be very poor and very desperate, and very badly connected. The heavy wax seal and expensive stationery said Cornelius’s mother was rich, and if she was a well-known actress and former spy, she would be awash in connections. This left only desperate.

  This made Johann highly suspicious.

  Eight ships lay in the sea harbor, and another three larger vessels weighed anchor farther off shore, bobbing gently in the fog. Johann paced the pier casually, lifting his patch so he didn’t trip whenever he glanced sideways to catch the names painted on the ships’ prows. None of them put him in mind of a childhood game of any kind. He did his best to memorize them anyway, in case one rang a bell for Cornelius. He made one more pass, checking to see if any crew appeared hopeful a handsome young tinker might wander up looking for passage. No one particularly stood out—they were all bored and watchful, and they narrowed their eyes at Johann, all but begging him to start something.