Gregory nervously shot a glance toward both boys and sat up straighter. “Baron Darius is well on the mend. I believe that after a few more days of antibiotics, he’ll be back to running around like any boy his age.”
The duke scoffed. “The baron is not like any boy his age and does not run around.”
Darius paled. And Gregory returned his attention to the food on his plate. Of course the doctor had seen the younger baron run around plenty at his farm, but would not argue with the duke.
“And my heir, my Solomon?”
“Father, I—” Solomon started.
The duke sneered at his son. “I didn’t ask you. I asked the doctor.”
Gregory blinked hard and shifted his eyes about the room. He straightened his tie. Raven knew he wasn’t terribly used to wearing one, and he never did around the farm.
The tension in the room elevated.
“Well, sir, I’m doing my best to alleviate Baron Solomon’s pain.”
The duke slammed a brass fist against the table, making Darius jump in his seat. “Not enough. I want to hear about a cure, not mere pain alleviation.”
Raven set a hand on the boy’s shoulder. His body shook. Raven seethed and did her best not to grip Darius's shoulder any more than lightly. Her gaze darted toward Captain Grant, whose worried eyes had widened but remained on the duke. When she returned her gaze to her charge, she realized suddenly that he shook from more than fear. His eyes rolled back in his head and foam had begun to form at the corner of his mouth.
The duke’s chair slammed against the hardwood floor as he backed away. Fear gripped his features. A whirring noise had begun in his mechanical arms. “No…not now. Kill him! Kill Darius now!”
Raven didn’t hesitate. She scooped up Darius and darted away with him. She didn’t even want to see Grant’s reaction to his order. Part of her hoped that maybe if she could create enough distance between the young baron and his father, it might keep the inevitable from occurring. Chairs scraped the floor in the dining room behind her and a worried murmur erupted. Followed by an explosion.
Steam burned against her back and flung her farther into the hallway. She rolled to keep the boy from hitting the floor and from crushing him. The first moment she was able, she leapt to her feet and continued her escape. She kicked open the front door but stopped herself.
Wait. Marietta. Maybe she would know what to do about the baron’s seizure. Second floor, west wing. She rushed up the grand staircase steps and jogged down that hallway.
Gregory. Captain Grant. Solomon. Would any of them survive the explosion? She shook the thoughts from her head. She couldn’t fixate on this now. She needed to concentrate on what she had control over and nothing else. And she had no control over that.
When she entered the hallway, she remembered it from her first arrival at the palace. Which room would they put Marietta in? No idea occurred to her, but she rushed to the door of the guest room she had occupied upon her first visit and took a gamble the woman might be there. Raven kicked the door open with a boot and rushed in. The gaslight lamps were lit in the room, and Marietta shot up naked from her bath.
“Sorry.” Raven averted her eyes and rushed toward the bed to set the young baron down. “He’s in the midst of one of his fits. Is there anything you can do for him? And hurry?”
When she spun around, she saw that Marietta had donned a luscious pink robe. “How long has he been like this and how long does one normally last?”
“I don’t know. I’ve lost track of time, but it’s only been a few moments. And the couple of times I’ve witnessed this occurrence, it only lasted five…maybe ten minutes?”
“Do you know the trigger?”
“Fear? Stress?”
Booted feet stomped down the hallway. Did they know where she’d gone? She withdrew the red corded sword from the magnets on her back and pressed a finger to her lips. Marietta never looked in her direction. She rustled through the carpet bag on the nightstand. “Chamomile oil. That should do the trick. What we need to do is calm him.”
Raven rolled her eyes and left the baron in the herb woman’s capable hands. She leaned against the wall next to the doorway, gripping the sword in her fists. Two deep breaths. The boots drew closer. She spun around the doorway and held her sword level with Captain Grant’s neck. He froze. His eyes were wide, and the side of his face red from steam burn. But he was alive. Fear and relief collided in her chest.
He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not here to harm you or the baron. I’m on your side.”
Her breath hitched. “How can I know you’re not lying?”
He shook his head. “You’ll have to trust me. I’m not lying.”
Her heart thundered in her chest as she studied his eyes and expression. Brown pools of swirling muddy water, but everything in her being told her that she could trust him. He’d never lied to her before.
With a nod, she lowered her weapon, but still held it ready. “What happened?”
“The duke’s right arm exploded, shooting steam in all directions, but Solomon took the brunt of the explosion. I had already started after you…but turned back to see what I could do to help. The duke and the elder baron are both dead. The doctor was doing what he could to revive them, but…” He shook his head.
“Good Lord!” Her sword slipped in her grip, but she tightened it again. Gregory was alive. And the Duke, dead. What would be the purpose in the captain following the duke’s last order if he was gone? Was Darius the duke now?
But there was something else…something Grant hadn’t said yet. His expression told her he was holding something back.
“So what now?” she asked.
“There is a problem and I need to see Marietta.” He swallowed and shook his head. “You remember those prototype mechanical men we found in Ipswich?”
She shrugged one shoulder and narrowed her eyes at him.
“The butler is one.” He ran a hand through his brown hair. “I…he…that butler’s been here as long as I have been and I had no idea. But the side of his face has been burned in the steam blast. It melted and revealed the metal underneath.”
Raven shuddered. “What difference does that make?”
Jack looked up again, his eyes filled with worry. “He took my sword and started out the front door in search of Darius. To fulfill his owner—the duke’s final command.”
“How do you know?”
“As a man I’ve known the butler to be silent constantly. But he continued to…to play a recording of the duke’s final words. ‘Kill him. Kill Darius now.’”
The building swam around Raven and panic threatened to consume her. But she gripped her sword tighter and straightened her spine. Not now. She needed to think. After she shook herself, she met Grant’s eyes. “So you didn’t come this way because you knew Darius was here. You came because you needed to see Marietta?”
He nodded. “That’s right. I assumed, much as the butler had, that you’d gone out the front door. It was standing wide open…”
“Right, then.” Marietta came into the doorway, still in her pink robe and pulled it tighter about herself when she spied the captain. “The baron has been calmed. Whether the chamomile did its trick or enough time has passed, I’m uncertain, but I believe we can work to keep him calm from this moment forward.”
Raven withdrew her sword from defensive position and returned it to the magnets on her back. She darted back to the bedside and knelt. She pulled the young baron’s hand into hers. “Darius. Are you okay?”
The boy had a pale but calm pallor. He shook his head, but his wide eyes watched the door and grew as the captain stepped in.
In perfect diplomatic fashion, the captain lowered his posture and knelt beside the baron’s bedside as well. “It’s all right Darius. I’m not here to hurt you. I promise.”
“But my father said—”
“Let’s not worry about what he said. We’ve got more pressing matters right now. Like getting you better. Do you
feel well?”
Darius nodded, but his hands still clutched the bed sheet. His eyes remained wide, and for a moment, Raven feared he might have another episode.
Lingering in his knelt position beside Darius’s bed, Captain Grant turned toward Marietta. “I need to know everything you know about the automaton prototypes from Ipswich. What can you tell me about them?”
Marietta pulled her robe tight over her chest again and chewed on her bottom lip. She met eyes with the captain, but they were unfocused and distant looking. “Most of the prototypes I’ve seen in and around Ipswich are nearly unrecognizable as mechanical. They look perfectly human but their mannerisms usually give them away. They cannot read or interpret body language like an astute human being can. Instead they tend to be oblivious.”
Grant nodded. “I’ve noticed as much. What of their fuel source? What are their strengths, weaknesses?”
Outside a murmur grew into a crescendo, drawing Raven to the window. Chanting. Several voices all at once saying the same thing. Raven’s breath hitched. Outside the window, the courtyard was filled with dozens of new recruits, led by the butler and other members of the house staff. In one unified voice, they replayed the duke’s message. “Kill him. Kill Darius now.”
Things are never hopeless. Do not stop trying until death gathers one home.
JACK’S GRIP ON the curtain pulled it from one of the brass rungs by which it hung. He whipped it closed and gestured for Marietta and Raven to do the same. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. “I can’t believe it. All thirty new recruits were mechanical men?”
His feet felt stuck in tar, and his boots grew heavy from it. His legs felt suddenly tired. Where could they go? What could they do?
Raven met eyes with him for a brief moment, and then she was moving. She rushed to Darius’s bedside. “How do you feel? Can you walk?”
The boy nodded. The color he’d gained from the return of his good health was now lost.
Raven’s gaze darted toward Marietta. “Dress behind the screen as quickly as you can. We need to move.”
“We’re surrounded.” Jack’s voice croaked as he assessed the situation through the crack in the curtain. The recruits to the front had begun dispersing to the sides of the building. It wouldn’t be long before the court was completely encircled.
Raven shook her head, and her determined eyes focused on his. “There is always a means of escape. Always.”
Marietta returned from behind the screen wearing an outfit grossly similar to the female reaper’s. It caused them all to do a double take, and young Darius gasped. The only difference was in the color. Instead of black, it was a deep, dark burgundy, and the cropped jacket was gold instead of purple. Marietta had even taken her red hair and pushed it into a bun similar to Raven’s. She gestured to herself with a flourish. “Black is much too plain for a woman like me. What do you think?”
Raven rolled her eyes and focused again on the young baron. “Darius. Think hard. Is there a way out that would not include the main doors? Don’t these sorts of buildings have tunnels or hidden passages?”
The child shook his head. “There are none. I’ve been searching for them my whole life and never found one. Solomon told me that he’d looked too and never discovered one either.”
Raven winced.
Jack had expected as much. The first duke had been in constant fear of his life. Although he’d had a fortified room installed with steel walls and fireproof doors which were impossible to penetrate, he’d feared a secret passage would have given an enemy the chance to enter in as undetected as someone leaving. Further, the first duke didn’t trust anyone—not even his architect—to keep secrets.
“No secret passages. Wonderful. Perhaps we can make escape through the cellar? Maybe the cellar door won’t be as easily guarded?”
Jack shook his head. “The cellar door exits almost immediately next to the west wing’s service entrance. Considering the number of servants standing outside among the automatons, I’d be surprised if they didn’t have the exit thoroughly covered.”
Raven had begun to pace. Her feline movements made her look like a caged panther. Her eyes were stormy and wild as she continued to rack her brain. Jack hated to see her this way. “They are not looking for me. Perhaps I can hurry out myself and bring back reinforcements?”
She moved the curtain back an inch to look outside again. “I don’t believe we have the time. We need to move quickly.”
Marietta yawned and leapt onto the bed, her bag in hand. “Why not go to the roof?”
Everyone stared at her. Then it hit Jack. “Of course. There must be at least three zeppelins tethered there. We can make our escape to one of them.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Raven’s mouth. She nodded. “Let’s go.”
Jack led them through the hallway, rushing ahead, but staying on high alert. The lush red carpet in the hall absorbed their hurried steps but also made it difficult to hear anyone else’s approach. They darted toward the west wing’s servant staircase since the main stairs were open to the main entrance. He opened the door and listened for any movement up or down the case. When certain the coast was clear, he motioned for the group to hurry up the metal stairs.
They bypassed the third floor exit and continued up to the roof. Jack hung back in the rear, his hand ready on the butt of his pistol as they reached the top. What if the engineer in charge of the docking station was one of them? Could he trust that any human in the duke’s employ was not a mechanical man?
Raven pushed open the trapdoor and pulled herself up the last rung of the case, motioning for them to wait while she checked the roof. The ragged breathing of the threesome filled the space and echoed through the narrow stairwell. A flash of blue light overhead surprised them all, and they caught their breath.
It had become steady with a low hum Jack knew all too well. The panicked look on Darius's face as he backed from the trapdoor told Jack his conclusion had to be correct. His whispered voice sounded overloud in the quiet staircase. “The Wood Witch? But she was dead.”
Marietta’s eyes were wide and frightened. She counted on her fingers a moment, looking in the distance, and then leaned toward Jack and whispered, “Where have you lot kept her? You hadn’t buried her yet in the churchyard?”
Jack shook his head. “No. The alchemic surveyor kept the body in his cooler. He needed to run tests.”
“Resurrection weed. It has to have been. That old trickster.” Marietta pounded her fist on her thigh. “I didn’t see any, but she must have taken it sometime while we were in the shelter. It makes her appear dead for three days. She knew we wouldn’t bury her at the bewitched mountain. She knew we’d bring her body here. That old witch had no worries about being buried alive! If we’d gotten her into the ground before it wore off…”
“But it’s been nearly six days since we were on that mountain. No one has reported her as anything but dead.”
Marietta nodded, her eyes twinkling. “And who’s to say that the alchemic surveyor isn’t now under the witch’s control?”
Jack gulped and darted for the trapdoor. “Raven…”
The redhead set a hand on his chest gently and shook her head. “Wait.”
She fished through her bag and pulled out a strip of cork wood. With quick tug of her knife, she cut two small plugs. “Place these in your ears. It will not squelch the witch’s power, but the spell works on your auditory nerves, so this will dull it. Your willpower will be what determines if you’re able to move or not from there.”
He nodded and stuck the cork plugs in his ears. They were a little small, but the whistling sound had dulled considerably. He gestured toward Darius who sat on the step, eyes wide and fingers in his ears. “Take care of him?”
Marietta nodded and withdrew a small bottle marked chamomile. “Don’t worry. I’ll do that.”
Jack drew a deep breath and threw himself over the lip of the hatch. His joints felt the immediate effects of the blue light. They stiffened,
as though rusted and in need of oil. His movements slowed but didn’t cease completely. Raven lay on the ground, her eyes unblinking and unfocused.
Then the whispers came around the edges of his cork plugs. “Failure. Reject. Worthless. Your father left because of you. Your mother never loved you.”
He shook his head and concentrated. It didn’t matter what his birth father and mother were like. His aunt and her husband had been better parents to him than he could have asked for. They loved him unconditionally and completely. He pictured their loving, proud faces and withdrew his gun from his holster. His fingers betrayed him, and the pistol slipped from his flaccid grip.
He winced and clenched his teeth as the weapon skidded away from him. The air had become heavy like water, difficult for his arms and legs to move through. He stumbled a step toward it, but his left foot refused to budge and he fell to his knees. The stony rooftop dug into his palms with sharp points, forcing a cry from his lips. His palms bled.
Keeping his thoughts positive while a voice whispered in his ears his failures and fears was harder than he’d realized. His joints felt as though they needed grease. He crawled to his pistol, but hardly had the strength to lift the weapon. With his other thumb, he shoved the corks farther into his ears and took a deep breath. It helped.
Raven remained immobilized in the gravel upon the rooftop. Silver zeppelins overhead blotted the evening sky. Only the blue light penetrated the dark shadows. The witch stood with arms raised, the veins on her body pulsing and glowing. She’d aged more. Behind her sat the engineer at the controls to the blimps overhead. In the blue light, the pale skin of the engineer became clear, and the metal beneath glowed green.
“Another mechanical man?” Jack asked.
The Wood Witch smiled and focused on him. “Why, yes. Cracking contraptions are they not? My own invention, in fact.”
Although her voice was muted, he could follow her words and read her lips. Jack pulled himself to his knees and rocked back so that he sat on his heels. “Your invention?”
Chronicles of Steele: Raven: The Complete Story Page 23