The Fire Squad renewed their attack with the creature down, but it wasn’t burning fast enough. “Hold on,” Sev called to them. Another volley of grenades launched, keeping the beast down. Sev grabbed the fuel tank off one of the Fire Squad member’s backs. He unscrewed the hose and lobbed the tank at the creature. The tank hit the beast and fuel poured over its arm.
“Two more,” Sev instructed. Midnight helped, handing Sev the heavy tank. Sev grabbed it with one hand and tossed it at the creature’s head. Midnight raised his eyebrows at Sev’s unnatural strength, but Sev didn’t have time to explain himself at the moment. He tossed the third tank, and the creature batted at it. The tank still managed to empty most of its contents on the creature. “Fire!” Sev shouted, and the Squad converged on the beast, bathing the creature in flame and assaulting it with grenades. Flames erupted where the fuel coated the creature, and it screamed, thrashing as the flames ate its horrible flesh.
Sev insisted they continued to burn the thing until their fuel tanks were nearly spent. The creature stopped moving shortly after the flames engulfed it, and now it was nothing more than cinders. Sev didn’t want to take any chances, and he approached the charred carcass apprehensively with his sword extended. When the blade touched the remains of the beast, it collapsed to ashes, leaving nothing but the Tear of Purity. It was filthy and smudged, but remained cool to the touch. Sev picked it up, intending to return it to its case.
The tent was a ragged, scorched mess. Sev walked toward the dais, happy to see Silas up and tending to Kildeggan. Heph looked a bit rough as he threw an arm over Silas’s shoulders and allowed the young man to help him off the platform. Sev winced, finally feeling his cracked rib.
“Is it dead?” Heph asked.
“Aye.” Sev nodded. They all turned and surveyed the ruined clockworks, floral arrangements, and bodies.
“Prometheus,” Heph gasped. He walked forward, abandoning Silas’s support. “The pilots?”
“Two of us made it out,” said Sal, who navigated Prometheus.
“Damn.” Heph looked around at the filthy faces of his remaining comrades. What had this morning been an army of more than a hundred was reduced to nearly half that. “I’m sorry.” Heph bowed his head.
“We won,” Sev said. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“I’ll give you something to be sorry about, you bastards!” The entire group looked toward the voice. Fairgate stood on the dais. The right side of his head was blistered and hairless, the eye cloudy and blind. The fabric surrounding the bolt in his shoulder still smoldered where it had burned from the electrical shock.
No one spoke. They just drew whatever weapons they had and fired them at the twisted sorcerer. His remaining eye flashed and all their efforts were in vain as bullets and electricity bounced off Fairgate’s mystic protection. His lips moved in silent spellwork, his left hand tracing arcane symbols in the air. Out of iron bolts for his wrist-bow, Sev cast about for something else made of iron, something he could throw or shoot. His allies continued to fire to no avail. Sev’s gaze landed on a discarded panel from Prometheus’s shell, an iron shield. He grabbed the sheet of iron and pulled Silas behind it. He tried to call out to his mates, but a wave of magical energy swept the garden and everyone who wasn’t behind the shield dropped like stones.
Fairgate stalked off the dais. “You’ve ruined everything. I was going to be king of the most powerful country in the world. I could have built the perfect society.”
“On the backs of children!” Heph spat. He’d made it behind the shield. Sev, Silas, and Hephaestus were the only members of the revolution still standing.
“The poor are just another resource! A commodity to be used for the betterment of the privileged!” The wizard scowled as he limped toward his enemies. “You’ve accomplished nothing here today. I will squash your silly little army of children and dance on your bones.”
“Like hell you will,” Silas growled.
“Shut up,” Fairgate replied. He lifted his good arm and brought it down in a chopping motion. Silas screamed as his arm separated from his body.
“No!” Sev screamed, rushing to Silas as blood spouted from the wound. Sev scooped up Silas’s body and pressed his hand to the wound to try to stop the blood. Desperately, he grabbed for one of the flame guns, blasting his sword with flames. He pressed the heated metal to Silas’s abbreviated shoulder, hoping to cauterize the wound. Silas remained limp in his arms.
“Sev?” Heph asked.
“I don’t know, Heph. I don’t know.” Tears streamed down Sev’s cheeks as he cradled Silas’s limp body. Sev was rocking and shaking his head. He’d lost too much. Annie gone. Waverly gone. Rat gone. And now Silas gone.
“You son of a bitch,” Heph screamed, charging the wizard. Fairgate extended his good arm, his index and pinky finger jabbing at Kildeggan. Fire erupted in a focused, intense flare, catching Heph square in the chest. His robes ignited instantly, but he continued to move forward, slammed into Fairgate, and wrapped his arms around the man. Heph bellowed and electricity poured out of his Tesla-Faraday battery. Both men screamed as their skin crackled and sizzled, bolts of electricity licking over them. Fire still shot from Fairgate’s hand, and the competing energies engulfed them. They grappled desperately. Their hair burned away and their clothes caught fire and still they resisted one another, each refusing to be the first to surrender. Sev shielded his eyes as Heph’s device overloaded, electricity bursting forth like the wrath of a pagan god.
When he opened his eyes, both men lay on the ground, smoke rising from their bodies. They had been forced apart by the explosive discharge of energy. Sev knelt on the battlefield among the bodies of his comrades, cradling his most cherished friend’s body as sobs wracked his chest.
With Fairgate dead, his spell lifted, and the survivors began to stir. Midnight jumped up first. “Seven! Silas?”
“I did what I could.”
Midnight touched Silas’s neck just below his jaw. “He’s alive. Where’s Kildeggan?” Sev pointed to the smoldering body. “Damn.” Midnight shook his head. “Fairgate’s dead?” Sev nodded. He pressed his ear to Silas’s chest to confirm his friend was still alive. He was relieved to hear a heartbeat. Tears still spilled from his eyes.
“Oy, did we win or what?” Sev whipped his head around as Rat limped toward him from the ruins of the gun turret. When Rat saw Silas, he ran over and dropped next to Sev. “Is he…?”
“No. Almost but… no,” Sev answered. “Fairgate is dead. The monster is out of our queen, and we killed it. I can’t honestly say that we’ve won. I thought ye were dead. Shit.”
“Not me, mate. I remember that thing reachin’ fer me and then nothin’.”
“Ye’re lucky. Kildeggan is dead. So many others.”
“We’re alive, and that’s somethin’,” Rat said and put his arm around Sev’s shoulders.
That is something, Sev thought, pressing his forehead to Silas’s cheek.
23
THIS is the aftermath, Sev thought as he sat reading the news in the apartment Midnight had given him. Every story had something to do with Fairgate’s demise and London’s recovery. The wall between Fairside and Blackside remained but was no longer locked or guarded, although the fans still spun, pushing the black fog away from Fairside. The Steamcoats were all questioned, and the men loyal to Fairgate had been arrested and imprisoned awaiting judgment from the queen. The remaining Steamcoats were being improved by Faraday. Their suits would no longer run on coal but be powered by Faraday-Tesla batteries. Sev smirked at the changed order of the names. Tesla would have a fit when he read this. For his part in the queen’s liberation, Victoria had named Sutherland head of the houses of parliament so he could be her voice. Sev was a little shocked that the news made no mention of Midnight’s attendance at the wedding. The duke must have pulled some major favors to bury that little tidbit.
Sev’s door opened and startled him. “Oy, Sev. All right?” Rat asked as he stepped inside.
“Been better, been worse. You?”
“Gettin’ there. His Nibs is on his way.” Rat indicated the door with his thumb. “Heard ye got an appointment with the queen this afternoon.”
“Aye.” Sev wasn’t looking forward to it.
“Seven,” Midnight crooned, sweeping dramatically into the room. “It’s been ages.”
“It’s been a week, Jack.”
“Has it only? Oh well, no matter. Rat wants to know how Benty’s doing.” Midnight peeled off his gloves as he spoke.
“Silas is recovering. He should be fine in a couple o’weeks.”
“Good. Good. And you? How are you?” Midnight trained an analyzing glare on him.
“I’m the Seventh o’London, I’m right as rain.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Midnight slapped him jovially on the shoulder. “Ready to come back to work?”
“I’ve been thinkin’ about that, actually.”
“And what conclusion have you come to?” Midnight asked with a sideways glance at Rat.
“I think I might need a bit of a break. I was thinkin’ about takin’ a trip. Maybe have a look round the colonies.”
“A holiday? That’s not a bad idea,” Midnight agreed. “Your job will be waiting for you when you return. If you want it.”
“Do I have a choice?” Sev asked, a bit surprised.
“Haven’t I always given you a choice?” Midnight asked, echoing Sev’s surprise.
Sev considered for a moment. “I s’pose you have. Ye’re all right, Jack Midnight.”
“Don’t go spreading that around. I wouldn’t want people talking.”
“I’m surprised they aren’t talkin’,” Sev responded. “About you and Wrathsbury at the royal wedding. It must have cost the duke a pretty penny t’keep that out o’the papers.”
“It didn’t cost him anything,” Midnight replied. “The queen has ‘chosen to forget the events leading up to our liberation’, which William takes to mean she’ll overlook his little social faux pas for saving her life and ending Fairgate’s control over her. I made sure it stayed out of the papers by visiting some editors. I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”
“That’s all neat and tidy, then.”
“The world just isn’t ready for us, I’m afraid. Who knows whether it ever will be?” Midnight retrieved his gloves. “Well, I won’t keep you any longer. You’ve an appointment to keep. If you need any traveling money, don’t hesitate to call. I’m sure I can find a little something for you to do. Give Benty my love,” Jack called over his shoulder as he exited the apartment.
“I’ll keep an eye on the apartment fer ye,” Rat offered. “Where’s Hank?”
“Left him in Undertown, so he can spread his wings.”
“Oh aye.” Rat lingered for a moment as though he were working up the courage to say something. Midnight’s voice called for him to hurry along. “Better be off.”
“Rat,” Sev said. Rat turned. “Don’t be a stranger, mate.”
“I won’t, Sev. Thanks.” Rat disappeared down the stairs. Sev sighed, looked around his apartment, and then slipped his coat on. Time to see the queen.
THE meeting with the queen was bizarre. Before the Duke of Sutherland ushered him into the room, he’d explained that the queen didn’t like shadows or the dark. She sat in a high-backed chair in the very center of a sparsely decorated study. Every light in the room glowed, even in the middle of the day. Queen Victoria greeted him and thanked him for his contribution to her freedom. Then she asked if he remained involved with the infamous Jack Midnight. Sev confirmed that he did indeed have ties to the criminal. She lamented that due to that relationship she couldn’t formally acknowledge his participation. He wanted to reassure her that it wasn’t important to him, but her mourning dress and black veil unnerved him. It was obvious she hadn’t come to terms with all that had transpired in the royal garden, and he certainly wouldn’t press the issue. After that she didn’t say much, allowing Sutherland to do most of the speaking. She seemed paranoid and reclusive to Sev, unwilling to mix with society after her experience with Fairgate. He stayed long enough to be polite, but it was obvious neither of them wanted to be there; the entire situation had been awkward and uncomfortable.
Sev left the meeting unsettled and a bit confused, hoping that a trip below ground to Undertown might soothe him. He made his way there through the streets of Blackside, thinking about everything the children had been through, everything they’d sacrificed. They’d accomplished what they set out to do. They’d exposed Fairgate, freed the queen, and this was what was left. Sev thought about Rat returning to Jack Midnight’s service, forsaking his underground brethren. He understood Rat’s choice: too many memories below. Sev couldn’t choose, spending his days in Undertown with Silas and his nights above ground in his flat. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with Silas; he just knew Silas needed time to heal.
Muriel had assumed the leadership of the underground society. Her first order of business had been a memorial wall inscribed with the names of every Undertowner who had given their life for the cause. Undertown was no longer a secret, and a few adults as well as many children had flocked to the alternate society. Sev had thought the strange city would be abandoned and forgotten when the revolution succeeded, but instead it became a viable and integral part of British society.
Sev was a hero down here. The adolescent citizens of Undertown thought of him like a savior, honoring and revering him, those who were left. The attention didn’t sit well, but he understood their intent. They were grateful for the freedom to choose to live beneath everything, grateful to be able to travel to the surface and purchase supplies without constantly looking over their shoulders, grateful to be reunited with their families.
The changes above weren’t and wouldn’t be instantaneous, but the Duke of Sutherland had already made an official decree that no one would be pressed into service and any impropriety or unethical business practices would be investigated and the offenders punished. His words wouldn’t stop the real villains from abducting children and forcing them to work, but it might slow them down, make them more careful, and that translated to fewer children being forced into factory work without pay.
Sev walked to the tower. Muriel refused to use it. She wouldn’t live there or hold meetings in Heph’s old office. She said it held too many memories. Sev couldn’t blame her. She had expanded her living quarters into the two dwellings on either side of her original home. She used one for Undertown business and the other for personal living space. The central space remained a dining room where she served the people of Undertown, the only difference being now they paid for their food.
The lift rattled to the top of the tower. Sev smiled as he entered the large open office. Silas sat behind Heph’s desk. He came here each day, sorting through Kildeggan’s possessions, reminiscing, mourning. Today he wasn’t alone. Tesla stood over him.
“How’s the arm?” Sev asked, referring to the clockwork appendage he’d helped Tesla create for Silas, based on Heph’s but improved. They’d attached it surgically so it would respond as delicately as a true arm.
“Still healing.” He winced as Tesla fiddled with something. “Knock it off, Nikky. It’s fine.”
“I’m the genius. I’ll decide when it’s fine.” He twisted a screwdriver, and Silas yelped. “It’s fine,” he declared and stepped away. “Hello, Sev. How did the meeting with Her Majesty go?”
“Strangely,” Sev answered honestly. “She’s not right in the head from everything that happened. It was a good decision t’put Wrathsbury in charge o’the day t’day.”
“You mean, the Prime Minister,” Silas said with a little sneer.
“Don’t be bitter, Silas,” Tesla scolded.
“I’m not bitter. I just think her gratitude is misplaced. Kildeggan was the real hero,” Silas explained with a sigh.
“You can’t make a dead man Prime Minister,” Tesla responded, realized what he’d said, a
nd blanched. “Blast, Silas. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“No. It’s the truth.” Silas sat back in Kildeggan’s chair. “Hephaestus didn’t do this to get made Prime Minister or even knighted, and I suspect that had he survived, he wouldn’t have accepted at any rate.”
Sev nodded. “I think ye’re right. He wasn’t in it fer notoriety. He just wanted t’do right by his country. Speakin’ of, when’re ye headin’ back?” he asked Tesla.
“Soon, I suspect,” Tesla answered with a shrug. “I’ve been having such a grand time with you fellows, it hadn’t occurred to me. Old Munsey’s probably beside himself. Especially if news of the battle has reached him.”
Sev walked over and sat on the edge of the desk near Silas, who reached up and laid his good hand on Sev’s leg. “Ye should at least send word that ye’re all right.”
“That’s an excellent idea.” Tesla glanced at Silas’s touch. “In fact, I think I shall do it right away. Ta, boys.” Tesla waved and slipped out of the room into the lift.
“How are you holding up, love?” Silas asked, rubbing Sev’s thigh.
“I’m still here, and ye’re still here,” Sev answered. “That’s more than I could’ve hoped for a week ago, holdin’ what I thought was yer corpse in that garden.”
“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” Silas moved his hand to squeeze Sev’s.
“Stop. Ye’re makin’ me blush.” He leaned down and kissed the top of Silas’s head and winced.
“Rib?” Silas asked.
“I’m fine. A cracked rib is nothin’ compared to a lost arm.”
Silas sniffed and lifted his new metal appendage. Sev could tell it still caused Silas a great deal of pain. Regardless, he flexed the metal fingers. “You and Nikky did an amazing job. It reacts beautifully.”
“But it still hurts,” Sev said. It wasn’t a question.
“It still hurts,” Silas agreed. “I’m afraid I won’t be up for any strenuous physical activity for a bit.”
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