Charmed Vengeance tac-2

by Suzanne Lazear

  “It’s a gift for our mother. She loves amusements no one else has,” James supplied.

  Steven glared at his brother over his teacup. “Anyway, Mathias says when it comes to automatons, you are the best.”

  “True automatons are impossible.” Dr. Heinz laughed a little too hard and fast. “However, I do have some mechanical beings and creatures, if you wish to take a look. Perhaps you’ll find something you like.”

  His belly unknotted, warmed by the fire, tea, and good news. “Now that would be splendid.”

  Steven appraised the assortment of toys and animals in Dr. Heinz’s basement laboratory. Noli would love this place, crowded with gadgets and do-dads.

  “The dancer has potential,” James whispered as a mechanical bird zipped around the room, perching on the good doctor’s wrist at his whistle. It was much like one Tiana already had.

  “But she only knows three dances, that may bore Tiana,” Steven replied. “She also has a tiny one.” As nice as Dr. Heinz’s inventions were, none of them were extraordinary enough to satisfy the high queen of the Otherworld.

  “Do any of these seem interesting, young gentleman?” Dr. Heinz put the bird back in its cage, look expectant. Through all his demonstrations he seemed … dispassionate. No, more like distracted, as if his mind strayed far from them and his inventions.

  “Where do you keep the good stuff?” James asked. “This is nice, but we’re looking for something more … sophisticated.”

  Dr. Heinz pushed his glasses up, which had slid down the bridge of his very straight nose. His lips pursed into a hard line. “Mathias told you about Helga.” Unhappiness dropped from his voice as his hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets. “Helga is not for sale.”

  James opened his mouth and Steven elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Could we … see Helga? Please?” Steven ignored James’ scowl.

  The doctor crossed his arms over his apron-covered chest. “I will never sell her.”

  “This means you’ve created a true automaton—one with intelligence?” Sparks of hope zipped thorough him. Even if Helga wasn’t for sale, that meant the doctor could create something for them.

  Dr. Heinz huffed, as if trying, and failing, to find the words he sought. “Let me show you. She is … she is unlike anything you have ever seen. Helga, Helga, come here, please.”

  Silence blanketed the lab as Dr. Heinz expectantly watched the doorway to the other room.

  Clink. Clink. Clink.

  Metallic footsteps sliced through the silence like scythes. A figure made of brass appeared in doorway. Not all the pieces matched, making her look like a well-made quilt of metal. Most definitely female, or at least formed in the shape of one, she stood about the height and girth of a grown woman.

  She stopped in front of Dr. Heinz but didn’t say anything. Dr. Heinz motioned to her. “This, young gentleman, is Helga. She’s my laboratory assistant. I have programmed her with twenty-seven routine tasks.”

  “She is marvelous,” Steven breathed, taking her—and the concept behind her—in.

  “Does she speak?” James’ eyes went alight with boyish curiosity.

  “No, but she responds to simple voice commands which correspond with her programmed tasks as well as directions such as come here and stop.” Dr. Heinz puffed up with pride and gave the automaton a fond look.

  Steven moved closer to get a better look at her. Helga’s back was as smooth as her front with the exception of a windup key. “She is clockwork?”

  Twenty-seven task and voice commands? Wondrous.

  “Partially. She also runs on an analog system … ” Dr. Heinz continued but Steven didn’t understand a word past system.

  “She truly is amazing,” Steven finally added trying to get the good doctor to cease speaking about things he didn’t comprehend and didn’t have time to understand. If only Noli were here. She’d probably have Dr. Heinz telling her all his industrial secrets in moments. Dr. Heinz shook his head. “She’s not for sale.”

  “Of course, you need her for your work,” he soothed. Having often worked beside Noli he could understand the benefits of someone who obeyed orders perfectly and didn’t offer their own opinions.

  “Is she intelligent?” James squinted at the automaton.

  “Intelligent is relative,” Dr. Heinz replied. “She can perform up to three tasks in a series, but cannot look at something and decide which tasks to do on her own. Not yet, anyhow.” He twitched. “There are … .there are people who would as soon never see such a thing.”

  “True. Not everyone has embraced the progress of the American Renaissance,” Steven agreed. People such as Noli’s mother, though she simply didn’t use it. Some sought to keep others from using advanced technology— or creating it.

  “Could you make something like Helga, but make her tasks more … feminine?” James grinned cheekily. “I think mother would like something that responds to her orders.

  That she would,” Steven replied dryly. Especially one that couldn’t think for itself.

  Dr. Heinz rubbed his chin. “Yes, I could. But it would take time … months.”

  “Oh.” Steven’s heart fell all the way to the floor and lay at his feet, gaping like a fish on land. “We need it in about two weeks.” To give them about a week’s buffer to get it back to the Otherworld, just in case they encountered more … helpers.

  “I … ” The doctor went quiet for a long moment, then walked into the other room, gesturing for them to follow. When they joined him in what seemed like half storeroom half junkyard, Dr. Heinz pulled back a curtain. “There is Hilde. She’s unfinished. She’s being programmed to play games, tell stories, and sing songs. She, too, will respond to voice commands, but cannot speak directly.”

  Hilde was smaller than Helga, a child instead of a woman, with a molded dress and hair.

  “Could she dance?” James asked.

  Now Hilde, Hilde would be perfect. “Could you have her ready in a week?”

  Dr. Heinz’s mouth clamped shut and his eyes narrowed. “If you want Hilde and not one like her, it will be expensive, but yes, I could have her ready in a week for the right price.”

  “Oh. Right.” Something else Steven had forgotten— Igan had taken everything. Mathias had given them supplies, but not money to purchase the item. That was his responsibility.

  Dr. Heinz stiffened. “I think it would be best for you to go. Return when you have the money and we’ll talk.

  Is there something we can trade or do for you?” James asked.

  “Not unless you can bring back my daughter.” Dr. Heinz stomped back into his main lab. Steven and James followed.

  “Daughter?” Steven asked softly. “Wait, was Hilde for her?” An automaton that played games, told stories, and sang would be ideal for a small child.

  Dr. Heinz nodded. “She doesn’t know about Hilde, hence my willingness to sell her for the right price then create another when I get her back. The police keep promising to find my daughter. But they haven’t.” His cheeks flushed with anger, hands fisting. “If I could, I’d go after her myself.”

  “Wait, she’s been taken?” For a moment Steven had thought that she’d died.

  “My Rahel is only five. She’s all I have left.” Pain swept through Dr. Heinz’s face causing it to contort. “She was taken several days ago. I fear the traffickers got her.

  Traffickers?” The very word soured in Steven’s mouth. “I hope not, but who else would steal a child from her own yard? They were reported in the area.” He sighed. “They’re probably halfway across the states by now.

  What if we brought her back?” James piped. “If we bring back Rahel in two weeks or less, could we have a fully functioning Hilde for no charge?”

  “James, what are you doing?” Steven hissed, eyes bulging. He didn’t know how to find a stolen child. He barely found Noli in the Otherworld and there he could track her by her sigil.

  James shook his head and hissed, “Trust me.”

  D
r. Heinz looked at the both of them, so much pain in his face that Steven took a step back. “Young gentleman, bring back my sweet Rahel and you may have whatever you wish.”

  They sat in the train as it sped back to New York City. Unlike Noli, Steven didn’t mind them. He put his head in his hands. “I can’t believe you promised him we’d find his little girl. Nay, if our wits run the wild-goose chase, I am done,” he quoted.

  That’s what this felt like, a wild-goose chase. “Ease up,” James shot back from the seat next to him.

  “And stop quoting Chaucer.”

  “It’s Shakespeare, you heathen,” he corrected. James waved him off. “Whomever. I can’t believe you borrowed a book from him.” He nodded at the book on Steven’s lap. “Boring.”

  Steven’s eyes narrowed at his brother. “Machiavelli’s The Prince is not boring.”

  “Sure,” he scoffed. “If we pull this off, then we’ll have the best automaton ever and the doctor gets back his little girl. Everyone wins. Besides, the idea of children being stolen makes me ill.”

  “Me, too. But time is slipping away. How are we going to find the traffickers?” He picked up the book, grateful he had something to block his brother out with. James shoved a little doll under his nose. “What?” Steven sat up.

  “This was Rahel’s. I can use it for a tracking spell.” James’ chest puffed up with pride.

  Steven blinked at his brother’s words. “You know a tracking spell? I don’t even know a tracking spell.”

  James smirked. “Finding Noli would have gone much differently if you had. Um,” his cheeks flushed. “I had to do something in the Otherworld, so I started working with a magic tutor from the Academe. It was either that or join mother’s royal guard, and you know I’d rather muck stalls than do that.”

  “You voluntarily learned spells?” He gaped at his brother in disbelief. Usually James had to be bribed with swordplay to learn spells.

  “I told you, I had to do something.” James shrugged it off as if it were nothing. “What do you say, should we try and rescue the little girl?”

  What had they gotten themselves into? Part of Steven wanted to rage at his brother for leading them into another idiotic mess. Yet at the same time, if they succeeded then they’d not only have what they sought, but have done something good for someone else in the process. Steven sighed, wishing he could exhale all his problems. “We might as well.”

  Certainly they didn’t have more to lose.

  Twelve

  Denver

  Kevighn skulked into yet another bar near the Denver Air Terminal. Hopefully this time the Bright Lady would smile upon him and he’d find someone who was hiring—or going toward San Francisco. He sat at a table with a good view of the bar and ordered a glass of rum from the buxom serving woman.

  “Anything else?” She gave him a saucy wink as she set his drink in front of him.

  “You wouldn’t by chance know if Snowball’s Chance or Ardentia Nare is in port?” He added an extra coin to her palm along with the cost of the rum. Roderick had introduced him to some very bad gamblers back in Chicago.

  She shot him a sly smile, pocketing the coins. “Perhaps.”

  Groaning inwardly, he handed her another.

  “You looking for work or got a job for them?” Her breasts waggled in his face.

  “Work.”

  Nodding, she cast a glance around the bar. “Snowball’s Chance is here—Captain’s over in the corner.” She jerked her head to indicate a larger, balding man with a hat who could have stepped right out of a penny dreadful. “Also, you may ask over at the Vixen’s Revenge. I hear they’re looking for someone.”

  “Doing what?” Not that it mattered at this point.

  “Not sure. But I think they’re having engineering issues.” She giggled, breasts jiggling as she laughed.

  Would he have enough coin to find a harbor to drop his anchor in?

  “They’ve been here a couple of days, and the captain’s getting testy. Though that captain’s always testy,” she chuckled. “The first mate and some of the crew are at that table over there.” She jerked her head toward a table near the window with two very large men, one of them dark. The third man, one with a mop of chestnut curls, threw back his head and laughed, revealing big, steel-colored eyes. Kevighn studied the man a little more …could it be? These eyes were bluer. Still, there was quite the resemblance, and her brother was an air pirate.

  Did he dare? It might be nice to have a connection to Magnolia, if this was, in fact, the right person.

  “The one with the curly hair, is his name Jeff?” he asked.

  She nodded vigorously. “He’s first mate. Mighty fine pilot.”

  Yes, the Bright Lady smiled upon him indeed.

  Kevighn handed her another coin. “Buy him another glass of whatever he’s drinking, with my compliments.” She hustled off. He drank his weak rum and sighed, praying everything worked out for the better. He peered at his fellow patrons—this bar wasn’t the dingiest or dirtiest he’d been to since he was exiled.

  Magnolia. By the Bright Lady he missed her. Who would have thought a slip of a mortal girl would have gotten under his skin the way she had.

  Awhile later, Jeff wandered by. “I hear you’re looking for a job.”

  Kevighn nodded, gesturing to the free stool at the small table. “The name’s Kevighn, Kevighn Silver. I’m a fair gunner, have experience with fieldwork and safekeeping, and can pilot a bit. I even know a small amount about engines. Hear you’re having engineering issues?”

  Jeff’s eyes flashed in a way that reminded Kevighn of his fair blossom.

  “We’re fine,” Jeff replied, with a hint of tension. “You know engineers. I need to do a diagnostic is code for I want to do things to the engines that you won’t approve of and may not actually work.”

  Kevighn laughed at his summation. “True.”

  Jeff visibly relaxed and took a seat. “The name’s Jeff, Jeff Braddox, first mate of the Vixen’s Revenge.”

  Braddox? Then again, he could be trying to protect his family’s good name.

  “Got any references?” Jeff looked him over in a way that was, again, reminiscent of Noli. As if he was trying to weigh his soul and read his mind in a single glance.

  Kevighn rattled off the fake references Roderick had given him in Chicago.

  Jeff rubbed his chin, nodding. “We’ll try it out, and if it doesn’t work we’ll leave you in a large port, one where you can find other work. However … you don’t have any issues working with women—and I mean women crew members, not soiled doves or any such thing, do you?”

  “No, not at all.” The promise of being left in a port where he could find work if it didn’t work out smacked of an honorable respectability he didn’t usually encounter among air pirates.

  Then again, he knew Magnolia was wellborn.

  “Good, Captain’s a woman.” Jeff looked around then motioned to someone.

  A very tall boy strode over. It took Kevighn a moment to realize it was actually a woman in boy’s clothing. A lock of blue hair hung in her dark eyes.

  “Captain Vix, I think I found our new crew member, his name’s Kevighn Silver,” Jeff told her. “He’s quite qualified and has excellent references.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she took him in. “I don’t welcome trouble makers.” She had an accent better suited to a joy-girl than a captain. “You don’t bother my crew, you don’t cause problems on ship, you don’t cause problems in port, and you don’t cause problems when we’re on a job. You follow orders—my orders. Everyone pitches in onboard, including cooking. You get food, a place to sleep, and a percentage of the take. Understood?”

  Cooking? Well, Magnolia never had complained about his cooking. “Sounds good, Captain.”

  A woman captain. Why not?

  She and Jeff exchanged looks, then she extended her hand. “We agree to a trial, then?”

  “Agreed.” They shook.

  “Welcome to the Vixen’s Reveng
e. Be onboard by sundown tonight. Oh,” her eyes met his, so intense they burned into him. “Stay out of the engine room. That’s an order.” How strange. Perhaps they hid cargo in there. “Yes, sir.

  Good.” She left. Jeff followed, throwing Kevighn a friendly smile over his shoulder as they walked out of the bar. Magnolia’s smile.

  Sundown tonight. He had more than half the day. Now … how to spend it?

  Hmmm. Noli cocked her head, a wayward strand of hair falling in her eyes. Wiping it back, she added some pink. Yes, that was it. Now for more yellow, such a cheerful color. Oh, and green—the very best color of them all.

  “What are you doing?” Jeff’s voice started her.

  Noli jumped. She stood in front of the center engine, a paintbrush and palette in her hand. Tiny flowers decorated festooned the gleaming brass, and she was surrounded by the parts she’d taken out of the engine and should be putting back in. Pain shot through her head and she rubbed her temples with one paint-covered hand.

  Wait. Paint-covered?

  Her heart skipped a beat. The paintbrush fell to the floor as panic rippled through her.

  “Shhh, it’s all right, Noli, it’s all right. It’s me.” He came up behind her, voice soft.

  “I … ” The sprite had taken over and she hadn’t even noticed. Her knees buckled.

  Jeff’s hand brushed her face, cupping it. “Vix is on her way down. Put on your gloves and goggles and make like you’re getting the engines back together. I’ll put this away. Tell her that you’re almost finished and then we’ll get you out of here.”

  She nodded, gulping. Her throat stayed swelled shut and she gulped again, body shaking. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember what had happened. Nothing. By the number of flowers decorating the engine she’d been at this for awhile.

  Jeff picked up the paintbrush and took the palette out of her hand. “You can’t let her see you like this. She won’t understand.”

  No, she wouldn’t. Gloves. Where were they?