Quicksilver Soul

Home > Other > Quicksilver Soul > Page 16
Quicksilver Soul Page 16

by Christine d'Abo


  The dark also made it easier to have the metal dance.

  Da, de da, da de de dum.

  The heart was nearly completed. A few more nudges of springs here and there and everything would come together. He’d taken to moving the pieces in time with the music, infusing some of the beauty from the notes into the casing. Oh, she was going to be beautiful! She’d dance for them all, and he’d be there to point and say, “There’s my wonderful girl.”

  The final cog clicked into place and the ticking began. Opening his eyes, he ignored the way the light of the warehouse made his head ache and admired the elegance of his work. Before, he’d never have thought of the word elegance, let alone relate it to something he’d created. But Mr. Edison had said Nicola’s work was elegant, and his connections were just as pretty, maybe better. She had to use her fingers and her teeth to get the components to do what they wanted. His way was elegant.

  It was.

  And perfect.

  The casing of the heart was solid in his hands. He lifted it so it was at eye level, letting him peer into the small opening he’d left. The sound was a whisper to him, her yet to be discovered voice that encouraged him on.

  Da, de da, da de de dum.

  “You’re beautiful.” And he kissed the metal. “Time to put you in your new home.”

  While the others were moving around, sleeping, eating, he’d been busy creating. The metal body was nearly completed. The legs had been the second thing he’d finished to his satisfaction. It hadn’t taken long to secure the metal feet to the legs, the legs to the hips. The torso came together quickly once he’d remembered to add the breasts. With the heart finished and ready to be placed into the chest cavity, the rest of his work would flow until finished.

  “Well, well. What do we have here?”

  Keegan knew he should turn around and look Mr. Edison in the eye, but he couldn’t, not until he was finished. The metal cage he’d built for the heart was reinforced to ensure nothing would jar the delicate works. He slid the heart down the rails he installed to keep it steady and grabbed the soldering iron without looking.

  “Keegan?”

  Three spot welds were all that was needed to secure the heart in place. Backing away presented him with the completed project. Perfect.

  The hand on his shoulder jolted him from his admiration. “Sir?”

  Mr. Edison was frowning. Maybe he was mad that Keegan hadn’t talked to him right away. Maybe he didn’t like what he saw.

  “It had to be exactly right for it to work.” He licked his lips, but there was little moisture left in his mouth. “I wanted her te be elegant.”

  “She’s that indeed.”

  Mr. Edison didn’t move in to inspect Keegan’s work the way he normally would. Maybe he didn’t really like what he’d done and was simply being polite. He knew adults would do that sometimes, so as to not hurt someone’s feelings.

  “I can make her better if you don’t like her, sir.”

  “No, no, she’s exactly what I’d hoped for.” And he still didn’t move in.

  “Are ye sure? Cause I’ll make her right—”

  “You did fine, Keegan.”

  “Then why don’t you want to look at her? You always look over my stuff to make sure I did it right. Are you worried that I did something wrong? I promise you, sir, I was careful. Made all them connections tight.”

  Mr. Edison squeezed his shoulder, pulling Keegan with him away from the automaton. Not that he wanted to go, but he’d learned early on not to go against what his employer wanted.

  “I will be very proud to call her my own. She’s very special to me. You’ve given her something I didn’t think possible.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Beauty. You made her beautiful. She’d appreciate that very much.”

  It was strange, but Keegan knew he wasn’t speaking about the automaton. “Who would?”

  “Never you mind now.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a flask. “Drink this. You sound parched.”

  “Don’t I get my sweets?” The water was cool in his mouth and tasted wonderful.

  “I think you need to eat something other than those. Too many will make you sick, and I can’t have my best employee growing ill.”

  He didn’t quite believe that, but there was no way for him to argue. “Yes, sir.”

  “Nicola has nearly completed the extractor. I believe that means we are almost ready to move on to the next stage of our project.”

  “What’s that, Mr. Edison?”

  “You’ll see. It will be as beautiful as your automaton.”

  That was good. Keegan wanted the next stage to come. He knew it would be wonderful.

  Chapter Twelve

  Nicola’s head felt stuffed with cotton. Thoughts would pass through her brain quickly, but her mouth couldn’t move fast enough to express them, and they wouldn’t linger long enough for her to make a second attempt. It was frustrating and almost as terrifying as the idea of Thomas stitching up the gash in her hand.

  The chair that the guard had placed her in was far from comfortable. She squirmed to find a position that didn’t grate on her nerves, or send additional strange sensations sliding through her. To make matters worse, she’d lost track of time, which only added to her aggravation. Thomas better hurry up and arrive to do this deed shortly, else she’d find a way to stitch herself up.

  At some point while she waited her eyes slipped closed and a fitful sleep overtook her. It was only at the sound of the door creaking open that she sat bolt upright, her heart racing. Thomas stood looking at her, his hands laced behind his back. His smile appeared to be almost sentimental, and the sparkle in his eyes brought back memories of a pleasant time.

  “I slipped.” She smiled and held up her hand. “I’d be more than happy to stitch myself up, if you give me the tools.”

  “You forget I’ve seen your attempts at embroidery. For the sake of your hand and the completion of my project, I shall play physician.”

  They didn’t speak while he gathered the tools necessary to mend her and sat down on the stool beside her. It was strange: The fear she’d experienced to this point dissipated as he took her hand in his and pressed his thumb near the wound.

  “I’m afraid there is nothing to be done except to stitch this up.” The needle bit into her skin, sending a burning pain through her hand and up her arm. “Do try to sit still.”

  “I’m trying.” Thankfully, the numbness she felt made it easier for her to deal with the pain. “What is in the sweets you’re giving the boy?”

  Thomas cast her a quick look, but didn’t stop his stitching. “Why?”

  “He gave me one when I first cut myself. I’ve been feeling odd ever since.”

  “Opium. I wouldn’t recommend eating another.”

  She’d thought as much now that the worst of the narcotic had worn off. “Why would you need to drug a child? Surely he wouldn’t cause you that much trouble.”

  “It’s necessary.”

  “It’s barbaric, Thomas. What is he going to do once you are done with him?”

  “I imagine he’ll find his way back to his gang of hooligans, and either they’ll deal with him or he’ll die.” He pulled the thread too tight, sending another burst of pain through her arm. “It’s lovely to have this opportunity to chat once again. I’ve missed our intellectual sparring matches.”

  She would never admit as much, but there was a time when she enjoyed speaking with him, debating the possibilities of electricity and motors, the potential for inventions and automations. While she had some of that with the other clockwerkers of the Company, they didn’t push her the way Thomas had.

  “If you’d treated me with a measure of respect we might still be debating. I would have been content to work with you for years.”

  He hummed low before tying a knot in the thread. Leaning over, he used his teeth to break the thread. His breath washed over her wound, her wrist. She wanted to pull away, put some distanc
e between them, but she wouldn’t allow herself to show even that tiny bit of weakness.

  “There we go. Right as rain.”

  She pulled her hand back and cradled it to her chest. “Thank you.”

  “I expect you’ll be able to work again by morning. How is your progress with the extractor now that your archivist is involved? Is he slowing you down, or does the dullard actually have information you can use?”

  The memory of Emmet stretched out beside her, his mouth on her breast and his hand teasing her body came to mind. No, dullard was the last word she’d use to describe him. “He’s been helpful. He’d seen schematics of an extractor and is able to guide me through some of the more complex parts. What he lacks in understanding he makes up for in precise descriptions.”

  Thomas got to his feet, but didn’t give her any space. His body was leaner than she remembered it being in France. “How much longer will you be?”

  There was no sense in lying to him. She knew he would have done his own calculations and projections regarding a time frame. If she were to be longer, she’d have to prove to him beyond a shadow of a doubt the reasons why.

  “Two days. Three at the most.”

  “Excellent. Keegan has nearly completed his end of the project. Then we should be ready for a trial by the end of the week.”

  “No!” She couldn’t imagine what they would do to test the extractor. Emmet would need to hook himself up to the machine, and performing an actual extraction would leave the memories of the victim in his mind. To do two extractions at once might be enough to push him into madness.

  “You don’t expect me to risk everything I’ve worked this hard to accomplish on the possibility that the two of you are working to sabotage things?” His laughter lacked the warmth she’d once expected from him. “I think not.”

  She couldn’t put Emmet at risk in this manner. Pushing herself up from the chair, she grabbed him by the wrist and prayed he’d listen. “Do you understand how the extractor works? Dennison’s mind absorbs the memories of the dead and keeps them there. If you put him through a test, it will leave his mind infected with those thoughts, contaminate him, and potentially ruin him for your grand scheme.”

  Thomas shook her free. “You lost the right to inform my decisions when you blew up my laboratory.”

  “Listen to me—”

  “Enough!”

  Despite the force of his shout, she didn’t back down. “What happened to you? The man I knew might have been an arrogant ass who took what he wanted for his own gain, but he wasn’t cruel. You used to care about others.”

  The muscle in his jaw jumped as he sucked in a breath. “That man is long gone.”

  “Why?”

  “When your entire world has been stripped away, when the joy it held is snuffed out by the careless actions of a single individual, then caring for others means little.”

  Her words couldn’t come. There was no retort she could make to defend her actions to him. She had been selfish when she’d destroyed the lab, knowing full well it wasn’t only her inventions and ideas that would be lost in the fire. She’d wronged Thomas and couldn’t expect to be granted his forgiveness.

  Perhaps the old eye for an eye expression was accurate in this instance. Her life for the destruction of his life’s work.

  She said nothing as he led her back out into the hallway and past her cell, where Dennison still resided. She couldn’t look at him, even when he moved to the door and called her name. Yes, it might be the opium still muddling her brain, making her compliant with her captor, but she knew it was more than that. Guilt was a hard burden to bear, especially after years of growth.

  “I believe your hand will be fine for the work you need to do now.” Thomas shoved her toward the bench and strode away.

  The room was quiet except for the light tapping off in the far corner. Jonas stood by the main doorway, speaking with one of the other men. She should be looking for a way out, a weapon, something she could sneak back to the cell once she was eventually returned. But the light tapping had caught her attention and refused to give way.

  Moving as though she walked through a dream, Nicola followed the sound. It wasn’t until she saw Keegan that she realized she’d ventured into his territory. Odd, she hadn’t come over here in the days they’d been working. Unlike Emmet, she hadn’t been bound and was given mostly free rein of the room. Thomas had said the boy’s part of the project was nearing completion, and yet she hadn’t seen this female robot he was constructing.

  Rounding the corner of the makeshift privacy screen, Nicola stopped dead in her tracks at the sight before her. This wasn’t a simple automaton. The body was perfectly proportioned—arms and legs stretched out where they should be, torso and chest expanding and contracting at exactly the right angles. The throat was long and elegant, and would have been the envy of any lady of the ton had any of them aspired to metallic perfection.

  But it was the sheer size of the automaton that had struck her dumb. The creature was easily twice as tall as Emmet, if not taller, and at least as broad. It would be a force to be reckoned with, one that would prove difficult to stop if need be.

  Keegan stood on a stool in front of his creation, thick goggles covering his eyes and a soldering iron in his hand as he secured the head in place. She could tell he’d taken time to place eye sockets with lids, lips that were swollen and almost natural looking, even given the downturned angle at which it currently rested.

  She waited until Keegan noticed her presence before giving him a small wave. “Hullo.”

  There was something charming about the way he grinned at her, the large goggles filling a generous portion of his face. “Isn’t she pretty?”

  Beautiful and terrifying. “Yes, she is. You’ve been working hard to get her done this quickly.”

  Keegan shrugged. “I’ve gots nothing else te do. Working for Mr. Edison is a sight better than running with the Underlings.”

  “Who are they?”

  “You don’t know who the Underlings are?”

  “I’m not from around here.” She inched her way closer to the automaton, wanting to inspect the work without appearing to do so. “Though I have to say New London is lovely this time of year. You wouldn’t believe how cold the Bay gets. Canadian winters can be a challenge.”

  “Oh. I forgot.” He hopped down from the stool and walked around to the front of the automaton, fixing the hands so they rest neatly in its lap. “The Underlings are just a bunch of street rats. We beg and steal what we need to survive. Glyn would have my head if he knew what I had access to here in the warehouse and didn’t bring any of it back.”

  “Yes, Thomas is quite generous.” As she moved her head and body protested, growing weak. “Do you mind if I sit down for a moment? It’s been a bit of a long day.”

  With surprising grace, he grabbed his stool and brought it to her. “You’ve been workin’ just as hard as me. I’m sure if you ask Mr. Edison he’d give you a rest.”

  “I’m afraid Mr. Edison isn’t too pleased with me at the moment.”

  “Oh. Whatcha’ do?”

  “I took something of his.”

  Rather than be offended by this revelation, Keegan seemed pleased. “You could be an Underling too.”

  “Maybe I could.”

  Keegan looked between her and his creation. He found a bucket, flipped it upside down, and used it as a seat. They looked at the automaton in silence, both lost in their thoughts.

  “He’s going to kill me.” Keegan’s soft voice shocked her into looking at him. “I’m not sure when I figured that out.”

  “Why do you stay here then? You’re not locked into your room. You could slip out when no one was looking and get to safety.” She turned to lean close. “You could go for help, bring the authorities here to rescue Emmet and myself.”

  “I can’t.” He sounded sad. “I can’t leave her alone. Not when we’re so close to being done.”

  She’d worked with others in the past
who saw their creations as living beings. Metal cogs and gears infused with a living soul that only they could see. She hadn’t expected to see such manic devotion in a person so young.

  “She’ll be fine if you leave. Thomas would never do anything to hurt her.”

  “He wouldn’t be able to bring her to life the way I will. He wouldn’t know how to make her sing and dance. Da, de da, da de de dum.” He got to his feet and began to sway to the melody of his odd little song.

  Frustration cut through the dying haze of the opium, leaving her increasingly frustrated. “What if I promised to take care of her? I would make sure no one touched her until you got back with help.”

  “Da, de da, da de de dum.”

  “Keegan?”

  Whatever spell he’d fallen under swept him away. Without another word to her, he slipped his goggles back over his eyes, moved the bucket to the side of his metal beloved, and resumed his work.

  This was far worse than she’d thought. Whatever the opium had done to his brain, Keegan was no longer able to reason through the situation. She needed to get them all out of here as quickly as possible if they were to survive. If that meant she had to finish the extractor and use it to her advantage, then that’s exactly what she would do.

  “I’ll be off then. I have work of my own to complete.”

  He kept humming, but offered her a quick wave in response.

  No, Nicola couldn’t afford to delay matters much longer, not if she wanted any hope of saving the boy. Her estimation of three days would need to be accurate. Which left her little time to devise a plan.

  * * *

  The song kept going round and round inside his brain. Da, de da, da de de dum. The tune was slowly changing over time, growing louder on each pass. At some point there was a soft harmony that added to its depth, sending a sense of peace through him.

  He couldn’t walk away from this. He knew Nicola didn’t understand, but then again, how could she? She had no connection to the metal, to the beauty of the creature beside him. It would take time, but he would make sure they all knew soon enough.

  “Now then,” he ran his hand along the smooth metal of her shoulder, “not much longer. I promised you we’d be done soon and I don’t break my word.” He did, but never to her.

 

‹ Prev