Quicksilver Soul

by Christine d'Abo

  Edison’s laugh quickly chased that thought away. “Oh, no. While I believe in taking risks to get ahead, I’m no fool. No, my young friend here will be my assistant. Wouldn’t you like to try Miss Tesla’s machine, Keegan?”

  The boy’s eyes lit up. “Can I? That would be amazing, sir.”

  “Of course you can. You’ve proven more than capable to run a device such as this. Consider it an extra treat for the exemplary work you’ve done on your automaton.”

  Keegan picked up the goggles, his fingers flexing against the casing. “What do I do?”

  “Please Thomas, don’t do this.” Nicola tugged at the cuffs around her wrists. “He’s just a boy.”

  “Mr. Dennison, explain to Keegan what he needs to do.” The revolver was now pointed directly at Nicola’s chest. “If you please.”

  “When I get free from here, I swear to whatever gods exist that I will rip your body apart, limb by bloody limb.”

  Thomas smiled and shifted the revolver so it now pressed over her heart.

  Fucking bastard. “Keegan, I need you to place the goggles on your head, but don’t push them in front of your eyes yet. Just get them into position.” He did as Emmet said and waited. “Good. Now the glass vial that’s in the top of the panel, I need you to press down on it to activate the machine. Wait for the indicator light to change from red to green, then you are ready to begin.” Keegan did as he was told, finally slipping the blacked-out goggles down his face.

  In the real world, this would be performed under the watchful gaze of a Guild Master. They would know what to look for, signs of distress or fault with the machine. Emmet wouldn’t know what to expect, having only been witness to a few extractions, and never focused on the part leading up to the actual start of the process. He should have known—another mark against him.

  This time it didn’t matter. Keegan stared out into the room and waited, leads running across his body, the goggles making him look smaller than his slight frame really was. Thomas held the revolver steady, the muzzle pointing at Nicola, and waited. Emmet stared at the cooling body of Jonas, former guard and hooligan.

  “The machine isn’t talking to me.” Keegan’s voice was swallowed up by the vastness of the room. “It’s not alive.”

  “What?” Nicola’s voice rose and she twisted to face Emmet. “What did you do?”

  Edison growled, turned fully to face Nicola, and fired.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A scream ripped from her chest and exploded out from her mouth. She wanted to hide, find a way to escape this painful death, but her chains held fast. When the ringing in her ears subsided and there was no blast of pain in her chest, or anywhere else for that matter, Nicola knew she’d been granted another chance.

  Most likely her last.

  “I know you take me for an arrogant fool, Dennison, but I’m not.” Thomas recocked the revolver and adjusted his aim. “That was your one warning. What is the extractor missing?”

  Goddammit, she should have suspected Emmet would try something like this. Here she thought they’d come to an understanding, had formed a partnership where they actually trusted one another. She’d actually been slipping out of her self-imposed solitude and let him slip in, wrap himself around her heart. All along he’d been playing her the fool.

  “Why?” She didn’t bother to keep the hurt from her voice. They’d run out of time for games. “Why didn’t you trust me?”

  His jaw was clenched as were his hands. “You know why.”

  “No, I honestly do not. Are the secrets of your precious guild so important that you’d risk the lives of others?”

  Emmet stiffened and turned his attention solely to her. In that moment there was no gun, no threat of death, only him and her, their souls laid bare. “I was doing it to save you.”

  Guilt welled up and washed away her anger. “What?”

  “I knew if the extractor was functional, you were his target. I wasn’t about to put your soul at risk. I couldn’t do that to you.”

  Nicola’s stomach turned. There was a part of her that had wanted to see the extractor finished and working. That insatiable scientific curiosity that never gave her brain a moment’s peace.

  She’d been wanting to know.

  He’d been worried about something greater.

  “I often wonder if I have a soul,” she whispered.

  “While this is all very touching,” Thomas moved in closer, gun pointed once more at her chest, “I want my extractor to work.”

  This was their last barricade to stop Thomas, and they’d failed. Beyond this point lay death for one of them.

  “Tell him,” she said in a soft voice, wishing they’d had more time to get to know each other. “It will be fine.”

  “No one should have access to this technology.” Emmet pulled against his chains once more, this time with less effort.

  Edison snorted. “No one except your merry guild? Come now, Dennison, that’s arrogant even for you.”

  “Surely you understand why the Guild Masters do what they can to keep this from others. Human life would become a commodity, bought and sold based on the value of information they had stuffed away in their heads. Your own life would be at risk from the people with whom you conduct business. Do you want that, Edison? To fear for your life day in and out?”

  “I’ll kill her. Then you. And Keegan will still do what I asked.” She’d heard that determination from Thomas before, knew there wasn’t anything either of them could say to change his mind.

  “Emmet, please. Just tell him.”

  He growled and jerked against the chains one final time. “It needs to be primed.”

  “How?” Thomas didn’t move, his gaze locked onto hers. “You have five seconds to tell me.”

  “The extractor needs to know the destination for where to pull the memories to. Like siphoning water from one spot to another.”

  “Four.”

  “Blood!” Emmet’s body sagged, as though the remaining strings that held his body were cut. “It needs to be primed with the blood of an archivist. There is something… it simply needs to be our blood.”

  Thomas withdrew a knife from his utility belt. “Blood from an archivist, you say. I wish we had one present. I guess you will have to do.”

  The blade flicked across Emmet’s forearm, cutting through the fabric of his shirt. Within seconds it was saturated with the red. “And where exactly do we place our primer?”

  “I think I know, Mr. Edison, sir. I can see the void now that he’s told me of it.” Keegan’s joy would have been better suited to Christmas morning than to a vigil over a corpse.

  “He’s more of an archivist than you’ll ever be.” The fabric tore easily, leaving Emmet’s cut exposed.

  Nicola could only watch helpless as Keegan squeezed the blood from the cloth into the guts of the extractor. He replaced the panel, secured the goggles onto his face, and let out a breath. “Oh.”

  “Dammit, Edison. He’s just a boy. Don’t do this to him.”

  “I don’t understand,” she didn’t bother to keep her voice low, “Keegan hasn’t been trained as an archivist. This shouldn’t work.”

  “He’s special,” was all the answer Emmet would provide. “You’ll ruin him,” he said to Thomas.

  Thomas lowered his weapon and resumed his watch over the boy. “Do you hear it?”

  Keegan’s body jerked violently, sending him flailing to the floor at the same time Jonas’ body jerked.

  “Thefuckingbastardisgoingtopaymeingold.” The words came from both Keegan and Jonas, their voices melted together in perfect harmony. “Iwantofuckheragainstthewall.”

  “Oh my God.” Nicola’s voice shook.

  “He’s fresh. The closer to the time of death the faster the archivist is able to sync up with the thoughts.”

  “How long will the process last?” Thomas moved around where Keegan jerked on the floor. “Minutes? Seconds?”

  “Minutes. If it doesn’t kill him.”

&
nbsp; No, Keegan didn’t deserve to die this way, cold and scared on a dirty floor. She wanted to take him away, take him back to Canada and keep him under her watchful eye. She wanted to give him a life of comfort, give him projects that would challenge him. She wanted him for her own.

  “Make it stop, Thomas. You know it works now.”

  “Mummyyou’reaslutandIhateyou.”

  Emmet’s face had paled. “He can’t stop it. Once the connection has been made it needs to run its course.”

  If Nicola had felt helpless before, now she was so emotionally stripped, she was certain her soul was exposed for the world to see. Tears streaked her face, but she refused to look away from the torment Keegan was undergoing. Emmet’s arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to the warmth of his body, did little to ease the ache in her heart.

  Time stretched on as they bore witness to the life of Jonas Weatherly. Hate and fear spewed forth until finally, blessedly, both boy and body dropped to the floor, silent.

  No one moved. Even Thomas, the instrument of the event, didn’t say anything for several long minutes. When he cleared his throat and moved to pull the goggles from Keegan’s face, Nicola could see that the boy was as pale as Emmet.

  “The vial should be full.” Emmet’s voice shook as he spoke. “It will be red.”

  “Why red?” Thomas pulled the vial free and held it up.

  “Violent death. They’re always red.”

  Thomas stepped over Keegan’s prone body and made his way to the automaton. He withdrew a key from his pocket and slipped it into the side of the chest. The chest plate sprung open, revealing a mechanical heart and the Parkesine orb. The blue light changed to purple as the memory vial was slipped into a slot.

  Nicola held her breath as the automaton shifted, the head lifting from its prone position to face Thomas.

  “Hello, boss.” The voice echoed from the metal lips, tinny.

  “Do you know who I am?” There it was again, that note of hopeful desperation in his voice. “Do you know who you are?”

  “You’re Mr. Edison. Hello, boss.”

  As quickly as he’d placed the vial into the orb, Thomas yanked it free. The automaton sputtered and jerked, falling to its knees in a single fast motion. Thomas stepped away, clutching the vial in his hands. “It worked.”

  “Congratulations.” Emmet pulled her closer to him. “You’re a monster.”

  The vial fell to the floor, shattering against the stone. Thomas drove his heel into it, obliterating any chance of saving the remnants of Jonas’ life.

  Rest in peace, you fool.

  “Sir?” Keegan was still on the floor, his eyes peeking out from over top the goggles. “Did I do good, sir?”

  “Yes, my boy.”

  “Can you get him out now?”

  Thomas frowned down at him. “Get who out? I removed the vial from the automaton. It is pure once more.”

  “No, sir. From my head. Can you get him out now? He’s scaring me.”

  “Who is?”

  But Keegan lost consciousness.

  “That will kill him, having Jonas stuck in his head.”

  “It doesn’t matter. None of you do, now that I have what I need.” Thomas tucked the revolver into his pocket and marched past them.

  “Where are you going?” She knew things weren’t over. Not by a long shot.

  He returned moments later, gun out and key in hand. He tossed it to Emmet. “Undo the cuffs for both of you. Get the extractor and come with me.”

  “I’ll do nothing for you. If you think for a moment I’ll allow you to take Miss Tesla’s memories—”

  Thomas’ sharp burst of laugher cut Emmet short. “Nicola? You think this is about her? I should have guessed you’d be that arrogant. No, I have no intention of stripping her memories away. Though if you give me reason to kill her, I might consider it. She owes me payment for more than a few lost patents.”

  “What?” She’d assumed… “If not me, then who?”

  He steadied his aim at her forehead. “Move.”

  Emmet retrieved the extractor and the two of them preceded Thomas down the hallway, past their cells, and around a corner. This section of the warehouse was in worse condition than where they’d spent their time. The stone in the walls was crumbling, metal was rusted through, and the stench of must and mold was high in the air. There were many rooms, none of which had doors, the guts and remnants of what had once been left to decay.

  It wasn’t until they neared the end of the hall that there was a door, closing the room beyond from sight. It had been repaired much the same way their cell had, though the quality of the work was far better. Whatever lay beyond was clearly of great import to him.

  A key on a chain was held before her face. “Open it.”

  She didn’t want to know what was on the other side. The sickness that had been building in the pit of her stomach had grown to the point where she wasn’t certain she’d be able to contain it much longer. But they were long past the point of turning back. Their fates had been set in motion, leaving them with only the aftermath.

  The lock clicked easily and the door pushed open with one gentle shove. She braced herself for what she was about to find, but instead was presented with something she couldn’t recognize.

  A large metal box filled the space, leaving little more than a few feet around the circumference. Light shone up from the far end, casting long shadows against the crumbling walls. Thomas gave her a shove, sending her staggering into the tight space. Emmet didn’t follow directly, needing an extra shove.

  “I’ve seen one of these before. Not functioning, though.” Emmet set the extractor down on the small table near the door. “Who is in there?”

  Who? Without thinking, she stepped to the side of the box and looked down through the clear cover of the top into the lifeless face of a young woman. “Mary?”

  It explained so much about what had transpired in the past two weeks. Her friend appeared frozen, her skin having taken on a blue hue and her hair appearing lighter than it would have in life. “How?”

  Thomas’ aim slipped for a moment before he righted it. “She often complained of headaches.”

  “I remember. They made it difficult for her to concentrate.”

  He nodded. “They got worse as the years went on. The doctors prescribed her morphine, and it helped for a time. But eventually the pain returned and the morphine did little. No matter how much they gave her, it was never enough. She died one evening after being in great pain. It was a blessing. And unacceptable.”

  “She died, Thomas. She wouldn’t want you to torture yourself this way. She’d want you to move—”

  “Unacceptable!”

  Nicola closed her eyes and hoped she hadn’t pushed things too far. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “But it’s not a loss, is it? I was floundering around in my shops in America, all the while hearing whispers about the disturbing creations that existed in the old land. Machines that could remove a person’s very soul, package it up, and tuck it away. What a magnificent invention, with endless applications. But these guild runners didn’t go far enough. They didn’t see the power and potential of their device. A chance to reunite loved ones. Mothers with children, husbands with wives.” His voice cracked on the last word, forcing him to clear his throat.

  Thomas turned to Emmet, the gun falling to his side. “You’ll bring my Mary back to me. You’ll bring her back and I’ll put her in that body. I’ll have her with me until the day I die. You’ll do it right now or I’ll kill Nicola as surely as the doctors killed my wife.”

  Nicola didn’t want to see Emmet, see the pain he must be feeling then. She knew this was the last thing he ever wanted to do. Still, she had to look, needed to be there for him through all of this. He stood in a patch of light cast from the metal casket, his face a mask. Without a word, he picked up the extractor, carefully pulled the lid back, and removed the goggles.

  “Emmet, you can’t do this.” She looked
from Mary to where he worked, for the first time in forever at a loss for what to do.

  “She’ll need to be removed from the machine. We’ll need to warm her up before the cups will connect to her skin.”

  Thomas moved with precise motions, disengaging the locks on the casket and shutting down what appeared to be a motor beneath. Air hissed loudly as the cover was released, sending the scent of roses through the room.

  “Help me to lift her out.”

  Nicola didn’t move, but Emmet came to Thomas’ aid. “What are you doing?”

  “Helping.” Together they hefted her free and carried her to the small space between the end of the casket and the door. “Lay her flat.”

  “If you do anything to hurt her—”

  “She’s dead,” Emmet said simply. “She won’t feel a thing.”

  He placed the extractor on the floor directly beside Mary. Nicola couldn’t get too close, unable to bear being next to the woman she’d once considered friend, but she wanted to be there to support Emmet. Still, she couldn’t look as he began to place the connectors against Mary’s skin.

  “I trust you have a second memory vial for us to use.” He held out his hand and waited for Thomas, who hesitated for a moment before handing it over.

  Emmet pushed the vial into the waiting slot on the panel, picked up the goggles, and pressed them down over his eyes. He sighed as he adjusted himself to be closer to Mary.

  “Time to grow up.” He slipped the dead woman’s hand into his own before he pressed the switch to engage the extractor.

  * * *

  Keegan woke slowly. His head ached and his body throbbed, making it difficult for him to pull himself into an upright position. He couldn’t make his brain work, the haze of his thoughts clouded, preventing him from remembering what had happened to put him in this position.

  Get up, ye fuckin’ little bastard. You can’t laze about all day when there’s work te do.

  He blinked his eyes, the voice of the man sounding surprisingly close. “Hullo?”