Quicksilver Soul

by Christine d'Abo

  It was odd how quickly he’d become attuned to her ways. Emmet had a similar relationship with Jones, Piper, and Samuel, but that stood to reason, given the closeness of their relationships, and he had never had that kind of closeness with someone from outside of the guild. Not even his family, though that was hardly a surprise.

  Unwilling to let Nicola go first, Emmet stepped out and was immediately punched in the stomach. The contents of his gut threatened to spill as additional blows rained down on him. Nicola’s cries were swallowed up by his grunting and the ringing in his ears. He tried to fight back, but the attack was so sudden and consuming, it was pointless. Giving up, he allowed himself to be dragged down the corridor to a much larger space. In a way it reminded him of one of the chambers in the Archives—too large to be of much use to anyone, yet given the right circumstances it would prove invaluable.

  Emmet allowed himself to be shoved back first against a metal post and his hands bound behind him. While escape wouldn’t be possible, from this vantage point he’d be able to take in as much detail as possible, all of which could prove useful at a later time.

  The warehouse had been cordoned off, the focus of their occupation being little more than a third of the area available to them. Clearly, Edison was building some contraption or other, one that required a significant amount of space. Steam pipes lined the walls and up across the ceiling. They were suspiciously quiet, an indicator that the building was far from being in the best of condition. Without steam, the chances that the equipment left behind would work were slim at best. Add in the grime-coated windows and rust-covered iron and Emmet couldn’t imagine the clockwerker being able to accomplish much of anything in this location.

  The air here was far colder than in the cell, though Edison had taken pains to bring to life some of the heating. If this was where the boy had been working, it was a wonder he hadn’t frozen before now.

  Edison stood with his back to them, examining something or other on a workbench. To Emmet’s eyes, he looked to be in good health and in full control of his faculties. No madness driving his actions, as there had been with Jack. What he wasn’t certain was if that made the inventor more or less dangerous.

  “Really, Thomas, if you were planning on taking over New London, couldn’t you afford a better workspace than this? It’s sad to see you fall to such lows.” Nicola’s tone was light, dismissive, as though she wasn’t bothered in the least by what was transpiring around her.

  Maybe that’s what she wanted Edison to think, but Emmet wasn’t convinced.

  “It suits my needs. Please have a seat.”

  Nicola was forced onto a chair in the middle of the room, too far away for him to be able to do anything to assist should she run into trouble. Not that he was much good to her with his hands bound, but Emmet was resourceful if nothing else. The moment the brutes left him alone and turned their attention to Nicola, he began to test the restraints to see if there was any weakness to them.

  Nicola crossed her legs and placed her hands in her lap. She looked to be a woman humoring a suitor she already knew she wouldn’t accept. “What do you want, Thomas? If you’re planning on killing me, I would appreciate it if you’d simply get it over with.”

  “In due course, my dear. In due course. Before I have the boys here slit your throat, I thought you might be interested in seeing this.”

  He turned to face them, and in his hands he held a large glass orb. Emmet would have dismissed it quickly as irrelevant, until he caught sight of something odd in its center. A soft green light that appeared to have no apparent light source. His hands momentarily forgotten, Emmet tried to lean forward as much as possible to try to catch a better look at the object.

  Nicola stood, ignoring the way the brutes closed in on her, and took the orb in her hands. “Well, well. This is fascinating.”

  “I thought you might approve.” Edison leaned back against the workbench. “It’s far sturdier than it appears. I assure you, if you were to drop it no harm would come—”

  Nicola let the orb go, and it landed on the stones with a mighty gong. The light flickered for little more than a second before returning to its full strength. “What’s the shell constructed from? Surely not glass. It’s far too light for that.”

  Emmet’s heart had stopped when the orb connected with the stone. His attention had been fixed on Edison, who was staring at Nicola. In an instant, it appeared as though Edison would make good on his earlier promise to slit Nicola’s throat. She was clearly too taken with the new material to fully appreciate the danger she currently resided in.

  “What the hell is it and why do you need us?” His throat was sore from where he’d been punched, but thankfully his voice still held its edge.

  “Ah, yes, the archivist.” Edison plucked the orb from Nicola’s hands and sauntered over to Emmet. “I couldn’t believe my luck when the boys told me they captured both of you. While Nicola was my prize, having you here will certainly make the next phase of my project far simpler.”

  As he brought the orb closer, Emmet realized what exactly it was he was seeing, certain obvious truths that anyone beyond the walls of the Archives would not have access to. Something must have shown on his face, for as Edison stopped before him and held the orb up, he chuckled.

  “Your archivist is a bright one, Nicola. Though from the look of him he’s still untested.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about him,” she said as she shook off the guards and came closer herself. “I’ve learned he’s annoyingly perceptive and far handier than I originally gave him credit for.”

  “High praise coming from you.” Edison held the orb directly in front of Emmet’s eyes. He could see it all, the filaments and tiny casings, the pathways that would be formed once it was filled. “You know what this is?”

  “Yes.” Far larger than the refined tubes the guild used, it would still serve its purpose. “It’s a memory vial.”

  “A what?” Nicola stepped close, her gaze shifting between Emmet and the orb. “Not possible.”

  “Oh, but it is.” With a flourish, Edison pulled the orb away and the guards moved in to put Nicola back into her chair. “I’ve found a way to construct a memory vial. But more than that, I know how to access the memories.”

  “Not possible. That isn’t even common knowledge within the Archives.”

  “No, but certain Guild Masters who have dealings with the French are quite happy to sell your secrets for a tidy profit.”

  Ryerson. The bastard.

  Emmet should have known that there would be additional issues resulting from Ryerson’s fall from grace. If he could kill the Guild Master all over again, he would. “I’m certain he sold that tidbit of information because he knew there was no way the French would be able to make use of it. The extractors are all accounted for and are under the strict gaze of the guild.”

  “You’re quite right. The Frenchies didn’t have a clue about how best to use their prize. Nor did they have the refined equipment to produce the glass needed. It seems they too are still suffering the effects from your little war.” The orb was placed back on its small pedestal, casting its surreal glow across the surface of the workbench. “I, however, know a thing or two about materials. And more than enough about getting what I want. That’s where the two of you come into play.”

  “You don’t honestly think we’re going to help you?” Emmet tried to loosen his bonds as he spoke, the urgency of the situation increasing with each realization.

  “Of course you will.” It was strange how calm and confident Edison was. Surely his outcome wasn’t so certain that he could afford to take the risk of informing them of the details, or relax his guard even a little. “You see, Mr. Dennison, you will do what I ask or else I’ll kill Nicola here. I’ve been told that your Administrators don’t take too kindly to their operatives failing.”

  “And why would I help you?” Nicola shifted in her chair so Emmet was able to catch a glimpse of her nose and plump lips in profile. “For that
matter, why would you want me to assist? Given what I did the last time we were together, I would assume you’d want me as far away from your projects as possible, lest I find a way to blow them up.”

  Emmet strained against his bonds when Edison moved around behind Nicola’s chair, grabbed her by the chin, and wrenched her head back. “You’ll help because you can’t stand leaving an engineering mystery left untouched. And if you don’t I’ll have the boy who is currently asleep across from your cell tortured for every second you refuse. If you think I’ll hesitate to kill the street rat, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

  “You bastard. You wouldn’t dare…” But even Emmet could tell from the tone of her voice that she wasn’t at all convinced of that.

  “Wouldn’t I? A lot has happened since you and I last spoke. I’ve seen things, done things that have changed me. I will kill to get what I want.” Edison finally let her go, but didn’t move away. “I’m not the same man you once knew. Don’t make me prove it.”

  Fuck. Emmet jerked against the pole. “How can you access the memories?”

  Edison didn’t grace him with even a causal glance. “All in due time. For now the two of you have a task to do.”

  “What?” Nicola rubbed at her throat. “What do you want from us?”

  Edison grinned, and for the first time since he’d been in the presence of Jack, Emmet felt fear.

  “You’re going to build me a memory extractor.”

  Chapter Eight

  Nicola couldn’t stop the periodic shaking that rolled through her body. They’d been escorted back to their cell and left alone to ponder the implications of Thomas’ words. He wanted her to build a memory extractor, implying that he was planning to kill someone to steal their memories and then put them to use.

  Before I have the boys here slit your throat…

  Was he going to pillage her head, steal the thoughts and ideas she’d stripped from him all those years ago? She wouldn’t put it past the bastard to attempt such a thing. This would be theft of a barbaric nature, the ultimate crime that would provide Thomas with every thought, every leap of logic she’d ever had. If he’d found a way to make use of those memories afterward, there would be no way for anyone to prove the inventions weren’t his own.

  The plan was beautiful in a diabolical way. The crime was far worse than her murder alone.

  “I don’t understand what the orb was made from.” Emmet paced around their cell, full of tension and fury. “Glass would have shattered when you dropped it, even if it was thick. I’ve seen other attempts to replicate memory vials. None were that complete.”

  “It’s Parkesine.”

  He stopped in his tracks, turning to frown at her. “What? I’ve never heard of that bloody stuff.”

  “Created by Alex Parkes, a company man who was a bit on our fringes a few years back. He showed it off in 1862 at the Great International Exhibition. It’s an organic material, something that can be heated and molded. Odd stuff, but very effective when one needs lightweight material.”

  They’d begun to use Parkesine at the head base in Canada. It held up better in the cold than glass and turned out to be far more durable given the extreme temperature changes. Of course, Alex’s original formula had been tweaked since its arrival, but that was standard for anything that found its way into the hands of the HBC. No man, woman, or thought was left free from the stag’s mark.

  Emmet waved the idea away. “Fine. Not that it will matter. Even if we could build an extractor, I have no intention of doing so.”

  Nicola let her gaze linger on his stubble-covered face, unable to help but wonder what it would feel like against her fingers, her face, her lips. “We have no choice.”

  “There is more at stake than one life if the wrong person has access to a machine such as the extractor.” Emmet straightened so much he appeared to swallow a significant portion of the room. “We just got one madman off the streets of New London. I won’t allow another to roam so quickly.”

  She knew better than to ask further details about the infamous Jack the Ripper. Instead, she got to her feet and cautiously approached. “What was it that was so offensive about what Jack did?”

  “You need ask? He brutally took the lives of defenseless women.” His scowl deepened and something flashed in his eyes. “That should provide more than enough offense.”

  “So that is unacceptable to you, but the murder of a child, one who is either being drugged or is mentally incapacitated, is fine?” She waited for her words to penetrate, watched as his face twisted into a portrait of disgust. “I thought not. You and I will do what Thomas has asked. We will build his extractor and the damn thing will work. I will not have the life of that boy on my head.”

  “Miss Tesla—”

  “But we will do so in the slowest manner possible.” She knew she was putting her life in peril, but she would never be able to live with herself knowing an innocent’s life had been taken as a result of her inaction. “We will buy ourselves enough time not only to discern Thomas’ intents, but to find a way out of this mess. If we are very lucky, then we either will be rescued or will have found a way to escape long before then.”

  Emmet nodded. “You believe he’ll kill the boy? That it’s not some ruse to get your cooperation?”

  There was a time when the idea would have struck her as preposterous. But there’d been something about the look in Thomas’ eyes that chilled her through and through. “Without a doubt.”

  His gaze held hers steady. While she knew Emmet was a hard man, someone who didn’t back away from trouble, those fleeting glimpses of caring would poke through the prickles of his shell. It was in moments such as these, where the concern for a child’s well-being overrode what logic dictated, that Nicola began to understand her attraction to him.

  Her breathing became labored and stuttered as she let it out. Every inch of her body had grown aware of his presence in a very real way. She could feel the space between them, knew it would take very little movement before they’d connect. He’d be warm. The scent of him would roll over her, making her drunk with want of more.

  She should look away, should put some distance between them. Even back at the Company, men and women were rarely left alone together for this length of time. Sexual relations weren’t prohibited, but they more often than not got in the way of productivity. Yes, nothing good would come from this feeling of want building inside her. They couldn’t exactly act upon their desires trapped in a cell where anyone could happen by. No doubt, Thomas would use any hint of a relationship between them to his advantage.

  If Emmet shared her sentiment, he didn’t show it. Without having seemingly moved, Nicola found her chest pressed against his. Their arms still remained at their sides, though Emmet had lowered his face so their lips were inches apart.

  “Miss Tesla?” The heat from his breath caressed her skin.

  She let her eyelids slip down, blinked so slowly she could have been intoxicated. “Nicola. If you’re about to kiss me I would ask that you at least call me by my first name.”

  “Nicola.” There was something rough to his voice, his accent thick as it rolled across her name. “This is a terrible idea.”

  “I’m full of terrible ideas. It’s sometimes hard to separate them from the good. Experimentation is the means to achieve success, to tell which is which.”

  His soft chuckle soaked into her body, heating her deep in her core. “We are hostages in a cell. If they know—”

  “Thomas will already use you against me and vice versa. We might as well reap the benefits while we’re able.”

  She didn’t want to think about how she often did this, would find a way to distract herself from a situation she didn’t want to face. The last thing she wanted was to continuously flip through the ways Thomas could kill her and take her thoughts. No, it was much better to face this reality, the enticement of an attractive man and the pleasure of a kiss.

  Her inexperience was something of a bother to h
er. She’d often brushed aside the fumbling attempts of her colleagues, even while wishing she’d meet a man who would spark that inner flame, give her a reason to ignore her brain and focus on her body. As Emmet reached up and cupped her face in his hands, she knew he was the one.

  “Have you kissed a man before?” His lips brushed hers, so close to giving her what she wanted.

  “Yes. It was horrible.”

  “I hope to improve upon your experience.”

  “Please do.”

  “Even though this is a terrible—”

  “Emmet. Kiss me.”

  One moment she was speaking and in the next his mouth was devouring hers. There was nothing soft about him, the way his thumbs caressed her cheeks as his tongue pushed its way past her lips, nor the muscles of his chest against her. Nicola lost herself in a sea of sensation, the scent of him, heat from his body, the soft touch of his tongue against hers. A moan escaped her as he slid his hands down the side of her throat to her shoulders, pulling her even harder against him.

  That contact jolted Nicola into action. Never content to simply be a bystander, she began her own exploration of his person. Circling around to his back, she slipped her hands beneath the fabric of his waistcoat so they were trapped between the wool and his linen shirt. It was easy then to feel the muscles beneath her touch, enjoying the way they’d flex beneath her fingertips as she scratched across them. What she wouldn’t give to see his body stripped free from the layers of material, to explore without fear of being caught. Emmet must have had a similar thought, as the next thing she was aware of was his hands teasing her back just above the line of her corset.

  “I hate these damn things.” He sucked on her bottom lip. “Too difficult to remove with any speed.”

  “More importantly, too difficult to redo with any speed.” She smiled and nipped at his chin.

  Nicola would have planned for an additional witty remark if it weren’t for the light coughing from the cell across the hall. For a moment, she’d forgotten that they weren’t alone in this, that there wasn’t a child involved who appeared to be so far under Thomas’ spell she wasn’t certain how to extract him.