Quicksilver Soul

by Christine d'Abo

  Keegan reached over to his paper bag and pulled out another sweet. He shouldn’t eat so many at once, but the pleasure they gave made everything better. His hands would stop shaking and his mind became lighter. His body became happily numb while his thoughts stretched out wide.

  A scream echoed through the hall, followed quickly by the ear-splitting crack of a pistol. The noise filled Keegan’s head in a pleasant way he knew it shouldn’t. That was the sound of death, or failure. He should be terrified, but he wasn’t.

  The soft hiss of boots against the stone floor pulled his attention away from the gear. He looked up as Jonas dragged Clayborn’s body out into the hall and away. A trail of blood marked their passing, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the smell would turn his stomach as it got older.

  Mr. Edison stepped out, looking at the retreating corpse. Keegan quickly dropped his gaze once more, focusing extra hard on getting those gears exactly right. He didn’t react when he heard Mr. Edison enter the room and come stand beside him.

  “What’s your status?”

  Keegan held the gear up to the lamp, inspecting his handiwork. “I’ve finished constructing and repairing all the works I need. I’ll be able to start on the motor tomorrow, Mr. Edison.”

  Long fingers ruffled Keegan’s hair, as Mr. Edison smiled down at him. “Excellent work. It’s good to know that I have at least one employee I can count on. Even if you are a… what do you call yourselves again?”

  “Underlings.” Though Keegan was fairly certain he wouldn’t be one of them ever again. “Ta, sir.”

  Mr. Edison chuckled. “You prove that a man can rise above his situation. That with brains and perseverance, there is nothing we can’t control.”

  Keegan had stopped worrying about going back to his old life. He’d been miserable and pathetic; why would he want to run back to that when Mr. Edison gave him everything he could possibly want? “When yer done wit’ yer project, are you going back to America? Do you have someone waitin’?”

  He didn’t mind that Mr. Edison didn’t answer right away, and went back to working on the gears. But when Mr. Edison moved away, Keegan pulled his attention away from the metal and focused on the man. “Sir?”

  “I have a family that I will need to return to.”

  Of course a man like Mr. Edison had a family. A wife and kids. “I bet they miss ya.”

  “I’m sure they do.” He walked over to his workbench, leaving Keegan to his own devices. “We’re behind schedule. I expect you to finish that motor by the end of the day tomorrow if we are to stay on track. You know the consequences if you don’t.”

  Keegan’s ears still rang from the sound of the gunshot. “I’ll never let you down, Mr. Edison.”

  “I know you won’t. And I want you to fetch a bucket and water and scrub up that mess.” He waved his hand toward the hallway. “I don’t want my place of business to be contaminated by such filth.”

  “The blood?”

  “A fool’s blood. Nothing worse.”

  “Yes, Mr. Edison.” Keegan was no fool. He was smart and would find a way to make sure his life got better.

  He had plans to stay away from Glyn and the Underlings. He needed them to come true. Failure wouldn’t be an option.

  Keegan wanted to go back to America with Mr. Edison. He wouldn’t ask the question now; it was far too soon for that. But when the time came for Mr. Edison to leave, he would ask if he could go with him, present his case as a business deal. His boss would appreciate that, would see the value in taking Keegan with him.

  Maybe he’d let him work for him in his factory. Not as a clockwerker, maybe as an overseer. Keegan would know if the workers were doing a right proper job of it or not. He could be important. He could be as tough as Mr. Edison, and just as smart. He’d learn what he’d need to and then he’d leave. Maybe he’d start his own company and someday have a family of his own.

  Yes, that’s what he wanted more than anything.

  But he wouldn’t ask the question… not yet.

  Chapter Four

  Nicola was a creature of habit. She’d established her routine as a child and had continued on that same course into adulthood. Her father had often tried to break her of her regimented ways, but would repeatedly resign himself to the fact she wouldn’t change. Her brothers would tease her, do whatever they could to throw off her carefully constructed schedule, but Nicola would always continue on. Even her mother would admonish her for her lack of flexibility, but none of them had been able to disrupt the pattern of her life.

  Moving to Canada and joining the ranks of the Hudson’s Bay Company hadn’t changed her. If anything, it had served to reinforce her behaviors. With few resources, cramped quarters, and a vast wilderness, she learned that routine and fastidiousness could save her life and the lives of those around her.

  So why she’d woken up a full hour earlier than normal and had been unable to eat her normal breakfast of one hardboiled egg with toast and butter was a complete mystery.

  Lies you tell yourself.

  Nicola had dressed and made notes in her journal about the scope of the repairs, and was now sitting on the small settee in the hotel room. She’d had a restless night’s sleep after her encounter with Emmet on the stairs. Her body had betrayed her by aching in places she normally ignored—her breasts, between her legs—and she nearly succumbed to the temptation of relieving the unwanted pressure. She hadn’t, which only served to put her in a foul mood. Coupled with her need to wait for Emmet, it had made Nicola nearly stir-crazy.

  She’d considered making an early start of it simply to relieve the lingering tension. That was until she’d received a tube communication from Simon. She’d torn into the message tube without a thought, only to stop short when she read the words.

  Hello, Nikki.

  I hope you have found your accommodations satisfactory. I did try to procure you the best rooms possible, though I realize you won’t fully appreciate them. If nothing else, consider this the best option available to you to allow for a restful night.

  Something has come to our attention and I wanted you to be aware. Please promise me you won’t react to this the way I suspect you will. A futile request I know, but I feel obligated to write it nonetheless.

  There have been reports that Thomas is in New London.

  Take a deep breath, Nikki. And now another one.

  I’m only giving you this information to keep you informed and safe. I’m not certain he is even aware of your presence, and if luck is on our side it will remain that way. I beg you to not go looking for trouble. That man is dangerous, especially to you. If he learns of your arrival in New London I have no doubt you’ll become a target for him. For the time being, I want you to stay close to whichever bloody archivist they’ve paired with you. It will grate on your sense of independence, but your safety is paramount. I have far too many assignments that require your particular insight to lose you now.

  I’ve also sent a communiqué to David informing him of the situation. Not that he’ll have any love for receiving the message, but I know him well enough to know that you’ll have support if necessary. I’ve enclosed his details at the end of this note. His brother is also an officer with the King’s Sentry if you feel it necessary to include the authorities. Make sure you go through Rory if that is the case.

  Get the vaults stabilized, make those Archives fools happy, and get back home. I know we’ve said a month, but I can get another airship to you far sooner than that if need be.

  By the way, we’ve nearly completed the blueprints for the new motorized sled and could use your assistance on the motor. It still stalls in the freezing cold.

  Best always,

  Simon

  She folded the note three times and set the paper in her lap. She did as instructed and took a deep breath. Then another. Neither did her any good.

  Thomas bloody Edison was in New London.

  Nicola had been little more than a girl when she’d gone to work for Edison at
the European branch of the Illuminating Company. It was just after the French had finally agreed to a tentative peace with England and reopened their doors to business. The Americans, one of the few allies the French had, flooded in, wanting to take advantage of the new business opportunities. She’d seen it as her chance to prove to her family that she was ready to follow her dreams of creating the most amazing inventions the world had ever seen.

  What she hadn’t anticipated was that her employer was a thief.

  She’d worked side by side with Thomas. On more than one occasion she’d marveled at how he understood her ideas and could follow her train of thought. He always seemed genuinely impressed and felt comfortable making suggestions that would enhance her work. The idea of partnering with such a man, someone with forethought and business savvy, was thrilling to her. Had she realized that Thomas had taken every single thought, laid claim to them as his own, and pocketed all the coin, minus her modest salary, she would never have boarded the airship to Paris in the first place.

  Of course she’d confronted him, demanded an explanation for his actions. Instead of righteous indignation or blustering denial, Thomas simply wrapped an arm around her and gave her a gentle hug.

  “You’re my employee, Nicola. Everything you do, everything you are, belongs to me. I was simply taking my due.”

  She’d fled shortly after that, leaving a wake of destruction behind her that made the papers around the civilized world. No, Thomas would not let things go if he learned she was here. She’d set him back months, if not years, by burning his notes and damaging the prototypes that had belonged to her. Given what she knew of her mentor and former friend, Thomas would track her down and make her pay for what she’d done to him. Not to mention, he’d want to keep her from damaging whatever it was that currently held his interest.

  Because if he was here in New London, then there was something illicit in the works.

  The hard knock on the door startled Nicola. She took a breath and forced her body and mind to relax. “One moment please. I need to dress.”

  She scurried to finish her normal morning routine. Her crisp white shirt disappeared beneath the leather corset fitted below her breasts. The metal boning provided her with additional support for those days when she spent far too much time slumped over her workstation. The doeskin trousers hugged her legs comfortably. Their acquisition had been her biggest change since her arrival to Canada. The natives used the fabric to trade for supplies, despite their disdain of the technological marvels the HBC could provide them. The moment she’d slipped her first pair on, she knew she’d never wear linen again.

  Another knock, louder and more insistent. Righting her utility belt and tucking her hair behind her ears, she marched over to the door. “Yes?”

  If she’d thought Emmet Dennison looked dashing the previous evening, this morning he was downright devastating. Black trousers that fit well enough to accentuate all of his assets, a tailored white shirt and black waistcoat, and a modest top hat that betrayed his family’s fortunes. Of all the archivists she’d met since her arrival, Emmet was by far the most handsome, the most elegant. She had no doubt that made him one of the most dangerous.

  “I trust you had an agreeable evening after my departure, Miss Tesla?” His gaze slipped from hers and surveyed the room behind her. She wasn’t certain if it was simple curiosity, or if he was looking for something in particular. Interesting.

  “I did. I hope yours was as pleasant, Emmet.” Oh, how she loved to watch him twitch every time she used his given name. It had been years since she’d bothered to stand on ceremony. Like everything else, there wasn’t room for titles at the Company. Having the chance to toy with someone who clearly thought a great deal about standing and propriety was far too much fun for her to pass up. It had become a game of sorts, to see if she could make the muscle in his jaw jump as he clenched his teeth.

  And there it went.

  Emmet simply sucked in a short breath, giving his head a nearly perceptible shake. “I thought you might appreciate taking the irons this morning rather than the carriage. It would give you an opportunity to inspect your employer’s work firsthand. They are one of our city’s greatest inventions.”

  In truth, she’d been fascinated by the mechanical horse pulling the carriage the previous evening. She’d seen many automatons over the years, but not one so elegant as that. The steam-powered creatures possessed an inner light that gave them lifelike qualities. The pistons and gears flowed together, sliding one inside the other without the aid of grease or oil, metal ligaments and tendons. The illusion made them appear all the more real. She could appreciate why the residents of New London were unnerved by the beasts and did what they could to avoid being in their presence, but the opportunity to experience firsthand one of the inventions she’d previously only heard about was one she couldn’t resist.

  “Thank you. I have to say it’s something I’ve been looking forward to.” An understatement, but there was no need to be crass, either.

  Emmet was surprisingly tight-lipped as they descended the stairs of the George Inn. Even in this most progressive of establishments, an unattached woman and man coming from the direction of the rooms raised a few eyebrows. Thankfully she didn’t have to worry the way some women did about their virtue and the need to land a husband. Nicola earned more money in a year than most of the ton saw in their lifetime, and her position as clockwerker and engineer gave her latitude many women didn’t enjoy.

  The morning air was crisp, still holding the chill from the night. It wasn’t as cold as she’d grown accustomed to, living on Hudson Bay. She didn’t bother to fasten her buttons, enjoying the breeze as it washed over her. The occasional fleck of snow would blow against her cheek, dampening her skin.

  She was surprised to see Emmet withdraw a pair of radiation goggles and slip them over his eyes. The pollution in the air, while obvious, didn’t seem that oppressive to her and certainly had had no ill effects on her in her short time in the city. Perhaps it was cumulative damage, or it affected those who were born here more than others? Curious. She’d have to ask Simon in her next communication.

  “We won’t get to the Archives if you don’t stop inspecting my gear, Miss Tesla.”

  Oh. She hadn’t realized she’d stepped closer for a look at the metal and the tinted lenses. Her lips were only a few inches away from his cheek, giving the impression she was about to steal a kiss. Preposterous idea.

  Nicola couldn’t afford to have these continued lapses in social propriety if she was going to last the full month in New London. “I apologize. I haven’t had an opportunity to get a look at those goggles everyone around here seems to wear. I shall have to purchase a pair so I can examine them at my leisure.”

  “I can have the Archives provide you a set if your eyes are growing sensitive.” He took them off and held them out for her. Nicola shivered as his fingers brushed against hers. His skin was surprisingly rough and his hands far larger than she’d first realized. Not the elegance that many of the HBC clockwerkers and engineers possessed.

  No, these were hands made for death and killing.

  What was it about this man that drew her curiosity? She’d been in many a room with more than one man who would be considered attractive, even some who her mother would deem an ideal match for any eligible young lady. None of them had made her skin tingle from a casual caress. Nor did she blush when their gaze lingered longer than it should. So why then, had she felt a spark of… something when she’d turned to see him on all fours crawling through the conduit in search of her yesterday?

  Pushing the unwanted thoughts away, she slipped his goggles over her hat and rested them across her eyes. The nosepieces were too wide for her face, causing them to slip down from their weight. Little good they did her, as she was still able to clearly see him from over top of the lenses.

  The blasted things even smell of him.

  “The glass has been coated with a protective layer. Each guild seems to have their
own special formula for keeping the radiation from affecting our eyes. I’ve tried several types, but these ones are the best I’ve come across.”

  Using her forefinger, she pressed the goggles up by the bridge to get the full effect. The world distorted as the glass slipped into place and she turned her head, looking at the early risers on their way to their employment. The lines of their skin were more pronounced, their hair darker. And yet, they seemed to have an aura cast around them, a glow that could be anything or nothing whatsoever.

  “I haven’t noticed any issues with my eyes since my arrival.” She pulled them up and let them rest on the bridge of her hat. “Did the guild provide these to you? They are exceptional.”

  “My father. He had them made especially for our family. Even his wayward son received a pair.” Nicola heard the note of bitterness in Emmet’s voice. Or maybe that was disappointment? She often confused the two emotions in others.

  “Thank you for showing me.” But as she reached for them, he stopped her.

  “You keep them. At least until we get you a pair of your own.” Again, she shivered as he slid his fingers across the back of her hand. “I would hate for you to do any damage to those beautiful eyes of yours.”

  Whatever witty retort would normally sit on the end of her tongue, ready to leap upon a man who dared attempt a flirtation, evaporated as sure as the water does on a hot day. He thought her eyes beautiful? No one, not even her parents, had ever called her such. Simon had once told her the strength of her personality consumed others to the point where they stopped seeing her as a woman, instead viewing her as one would a force of nature.

  Still, she couldn’t take something that held value to him. “I’ll be fine. You keep them, as they are obviously special to you.”

  “Please.” Emmet’s voice had taken on a rough quality, giving him an air of sudden vulnerability. “I insist.”

  She didn’t like this change in him. It was stepping away from their banter of the previous evening and moving them into a different realm. Better to counter and get them back to familiar ground. “Dare I take something the Duke of Bedford intended for his son? I couldn’t possibly—”