Turnkey (The Gaslight Volumes of Will Pocket Book 1)

by Lori Williams

  It was a roundish shape wrapped in a sack. Gren started swinging it in his hand like Jack had done with…oh.

  “Take this,” he said, tossing the round weight onto my lap. It was heavy.

  “Good bludgeoning,” I muttered to myself, tapping against the rough cloth.

  “Tally-ho, gentlemen!” Eddie shouted.

  We carried on through night’s meager remainder.

  We were nearly back to the cathedral when Eddie noticed a hunched Magnate kneeling on high behind a chimney. He was pointing something at us.

  “A sniper!” Eddie barked, bucking the carriage about. “Get your heads down!”

  “I’ve got ‘im,” Gren said, already prepping his rifle. The thing whined with electricity as the Tesla coils heated up.

  “Gren, think about this!” I said, ducking down as much as possible. “The last time I saw you use that thing—”

  “I’m aware!” he responded, gritting his teeth.

  Eddie did his best to make us a difficult shot, zigzagging on and off of the street, and bouncing us off of sidewalks. A few attempted kill shots sparked off of our tires and we slid, but I held onto the careening metal of the car. I glanced up and saw the dual bulbs screwed into Gren’s rifle light up with a terrible glow, and a half-moment later, its wielder squeezed the trigger.

  Crack!

  I winced, sure that we’d all be sent up in flames by the damn thing. Instead, the sniper flew backward from his post, more glorious red shooting up into the sky.

  “Fireworks,” Eddie giggled.

  I stared at Gren in complete astonishment. He looked back at me and smiled at his smoking toy.

  “What did I tell ya?” he smugly asked.

  I exhaled and lifted my head slowly up. The wind slapped my face. “Nice shot,” I said.

  We slowly slid to a halt. Eddie swore and punched the wheel.

  “What’s wrong?” Gren asked.

  “Bastard hit a wheel,” Eddie said, getting out to look. “It’s pretty ripped up.”

  “Can we drive on it?”

  “You think I would’ve stopped if we could?”

  “Damn it!” Gren said, dropping his head on the dashboard with a thud. “That sniper was bound to have friends nearby.”

  “You mean like those?” I sickly spoke.

  Eddie and Gren looked forward to find what I had already seen: a standing line of five of His Majesty’s best, armed to the teeth, the fingernails, to the hairs that grew from the back of their thick, calloused necks. Their guns seemed natural extensions of their gloved hands.

  And their hands were aiming at us.

  “Oh, good,” Gren muttered.

  They started walking toward us. Eddie threw up his hands in surrender, slowly moved to my side, and whispered, “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Just do it. Don’t make a sound or move an inch. Before they see your face.”

  There wasn’t time to argue, so I did as told, slumping over in the backseat like a dead…ah.

  I began to see where Eddie was going with this.

  I heard one of the men walk forward from the line. He must’ve been standing pretty close.

  “Weapons,” he commanded. “If you have them, throw them down.”

  “Sure thing,” Eddie said. “You don’t have to yell, my friend.”

  “Now!”

  I heard the clank of metal on brick.

  “Your names!” the approaching man commanded.

  Eddie chuckled. “They’re whatever you want them to be, sweetheart.”

  I heard a sharp crack. Eddie spat and resumed giggling.

  “That supposed to hurt, cupcake? I’ve had bad shaves that stung worse than that.”

  “Ignore him, sir,” another voice spoke from a distance. “This is clearly Gearhead and Spader.”

  One of them snorted.

  “Gearhead,” the lead gunman spoke. “Such a ridiculous pseudonym.”

  “Thanks,” Eddie replied.

  “And…Spader? Yes, of course, you must be, covered in all of that tin. How about that for criminals, men? One with a fake name, the other with a fake skin.”

  “Bugger off,” Gren spat.

  “Foul,” the Magnate declared. “To be expected.”

  There was another sharp crack. Gren groaned.

  “Now,” the interrogating Magnate continued, “the two of you must know of the charges on your heads, yes? So I am going to be very clear and very direct about this. Where is the seized property?”

  “The seized what?” Eddie asked.

  “The machine.”

  “No idea,” Gren said.

  “Never heard of any seized machine,” Eddie casually replied. “How ‘bout you, Gren?”

  “Nope.”

  I heard the Magnate sigh. “Let me put it another way.”

  The line of rifles simultaneously cocked.

  “We’re telling you the truth, damn it!” Gren growled.

  “Are you?” the Magnate mocked. “And I suppose you can’t tell me where I can find Will Pocket either?”

  “Well—“

  “You want Pocket?” Eddie cut in. “Sure, we can give you Pocket. But I don’t think you’re gunna want him, unless you enjoy a good smell of rot.”

  “What?” the soldier responded.

  “That’s right. He’s dead. Your mate on the roof already saw to that.”

  “Liar.”

  “If you don’t believe me, check for yourself. The body’s still warm.”

  There was a very uncomfortable silence, and I heard the heavy dragging of boot steps come closer. I willed myself to stay as limp and still as I could manage. I could hear the man’s air blow out of his nostrils.

  “Messy,” the Magnate whispered to himself before again addressing Eddie and Gren. “When did this happen?”

  “Just now,” Gren said. “You must’ve heard the gunfire.”

  “You two seem awfully unaffected by his passing.”

  “So?”

  “Hmph,” the Magnate again snorted. “No love amongst the damned, eh?”

  I waited for something else to happen. There was an ugly quiet that just wouldn’t remove itself from the scene. I guessed that the soldier was considering his next move. I heard him walk away from me.

  “All right,” the man said. “Kill them.”

  My eyes cracked just barely open, betraying my tableau. A line of death readied their aim.

  “Whoa! Wait!” Gren exclaimed. “We told you! We don't know where she is!”

  The commanding Magnate quickly stiffened. “Hold your fire!” he directed.

  The line, surprised by this unexpected turn, hesitated a moment before lowering their guns. The man who gave the order moved within spitting distance of Gren, which is something I'd never recommend.

  “What was that, Spader?” he questioned.

  Gren stood his ground. “I said—if you'll pull the wax out of your ears—that we don't know where she is.”

  And then the Magnate pulled across his face the thinnest, most mechanical little smile I've ever noticed. It was so diabolical that a man feigning death could spot it from behind a pair of slit eyelids. And even more unsettling was the little chortle that followed.

  “Something funny?” Gren challenged.

  “You say you have no knowledge of the stolen property,” the Magnate spoke. “Then how do you know it looks like a 'she?'”

  Neither Gren nor Eddie said anything to this, which only spread the fire.

  “I see,” the Magnate said. “Sergeant.”

  Another stepped forward from the ranks. “Sir?” he responded.

  “Bring me what we found tonight.”

  “Yes, sir!” the subordinate said, hurrying away.

  The commander paced a slow circle around Eddie and Gren, slowly studying them.

  “Are you both quite certain that you wouldn’t like to tell me anything else?”

  This time it was Eddie who snorted. A less than affection
ate homage. “Sweetheart, you can ask the question as many times as you want,” he said. “You’re gunna hear the same thing, but keep on asking.”

  I could hear the sergeant returning, and at the sound, the commander crossed his arms.

  “Oh, I’m done asking, boy,” he said.

  The sergeant broke forward through the line of gunmen, ushering two people, a woman and a child, both blindfolded and gagged.

  No…

  God, no.

  Eddie turned three shades of fire and nearly rushed the sergeant, but the commander caught him under the chin with his barrel.

  I didn’t have to get a good look at the prisoners to know they were Alexia and Iago.

  The sergeant roughly removed their binds, and I quickly shut my eyes again to prevent them from blowing my act.

  Or maybe I was just scared.

  “You let them go!” Eddie screamed. “And you do it now!”

  I heard the scrape of metal and heels. I heard Alexia cry and beg and whimper. I heard Iago try to comfort her. I heard Eddie scream and Gren curse them all to a thousand eternities of vividly-detailed tortures. I continued to lie there and do nothing.

  That was to be my torture.

  “Please,” Alexia pleaded, “don’t do this.”

  “You now have a decision to make,” the Magnate said to Gren and Eddie, “and I suggest you make it carefully.”

  “Kill us!” Eddie bellowed. “Go ahead and shoot us dead! Do what you want, just let them go!”

  “You heard him!” Gren exclaimed.

  “Those aren’t the options,” the man replied. “If you want them to walk away from this, you need to tell me where I can find the machine, and you need to tell me now.”

  “Don’t tell them anything!” Alexia shouted.

  “I’m warning you,” Eddie boiled. “If you don’t take your bleedin’ hands off of them right now, I am going to shove those goddamned rifles down your goddamned throats!”

  “This is your last opportunity,” the commander said.

  “Go to Hell!” Gren screamed.

  “I believe the adage, Mister Spader, goes ‘women and children, first.’”

  “These…” Iago sadly said, “…these are the bad guys…We aren’t supposed to lose to the bad guys…”

  “Please be quiet now, Iago,” Alexia said, her voice shaky and weak. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “You shouldn’t lie to children,” the Magnate coldly said.

  “Go and die!” Gren screamed.

  “'Fine’ is a matter of opinion, anyway. I was served a meat pie last evening. I considered it a pleasant meal, but to the cow—“

  “You’re a dead man!” Eddie shouted. “A corpse where you stand!”

  “Oh, I think you forget which side of the gun you’re on, bloke. If you’re so keen on death, keep flapping your lips and I’ll put you in a pile with your friend Pocket.”

  Alexia shrieked, and I assumed that this was when she first noticed my bloody body slumped inside of the carriage.

  “Mister Pocket!” the tea lady screamed.

  “Stay back!” the sergeant ordered her. “Don’t move!”

  “No! You heartless bastards, no!”

  “I said, don’t move!”

  “He was a good man! You took the life of a good man!”

  Iago started crying and I heard approaching footsteps.

  “Get that child back here!” one of the Magnates yelled.

  “Iago, no!” Alexia shrieked.

  I felt small fingers poking against my cheeks. The kid was weeping at my side, frantically tapping against my face in hopes that I would respond.

  “You get up now!” he cried. “Mistah Pockeh, you’re not a bad guy! We hafta kill the bad guys!”

  I would not let myself respond, and it ate away at me.

  “You will rot forever for what you’ve done!” Alexia screamed through her tears. “Forever!”

  Iago kept poking me, and then suddenly, he stopped.

  “Mistah Pockeh?” he whispered into my ear. “Bad guys don’t win. So you must be pretending, right?”

  I clenched my jaw and tried to keep calm.

  “Please, Ig,” I thought, “don’t ruin this.”

  “Why are you pretending to be dead?” he whispered. “You need to stand up an’ live.”

  Someone marched up and pulled him away. The boy started screaming. There was a quick blast, more screaming from the scene, and some sort of raucous scuffle unfolded.

  Against my own good judgment, I looked once again, careful not to open my eyes too wide.

  In the confusion, Eddie had seized a rifle and shot three of the soldiers. A line of blood down his thigh told me that one of them had gotten a shot in as well. As for the remaining two, they were struggling for control of their own weapons, as Gren and Alexia were yanking viciously at their barrels. Young Iago, in his childish innocence, was hopping around and cheering.

  Eddie charged the two survivors, who eventually surrendered their firearms and slipped into a hurried retreat. Eddie galloped after them, then stopped and shouted a song of victory.

  But some songs end quickly.

  From behind this scene, out of a pool of blood, the fatally-wounded commander struggled upward, still clutching his weapon. The only one who noticed was Iago, who made a taunting face at the Magnate. Enraged, the soldier quickly aimed upon Eddie’s back, and the lantern boy screamed.

  “Eddie!” Gren shouted, spinning his head around. “Get dow—”

  The sky shook with a loud pop.

  It was a quick moment, and within a blink of an eye, finger struck trigger, gunpowder struck fire, and a bullet struck flesh.

  The barrier between life and death is pathetically slim.

  A man moaned once more, breathed his last, and fell dead.

  But that man was not Eddie.

  They all stood there, glued to the spot, eyes wide and mouths silent, even little Iago, as the Magnate dribbled his essence into the cracks between the cobblestone.

  A man with a smoking pistol walked to them without announcement. He spoke no word and he made no face. Silently, he buried the gun back into the tattered overcoat from which it came. Sweat and dirt and maybe tears matted his face, just as blood matted his body.

  Will Pocket died that night in London Town. But another took up his flesh and started anew. He had filled the form and used those pale fingers to shoot a man dead.

  This is the Pocket I was. This is the Pocket I have become.

  I remember watching the street beyond my feet and staring into the cobblestone cracks as the blood trickled a little stream. I remember looking up and catching Miss Alexia’s eyes. They bore into me, twin circles of colorful slush, a blend of confusion, gratitude, wonder, and fear. I nodded solemnly to Alexia, as if acknowledging my actions, and she seemed to understand. She mouthed “thank you” and I turned away.

  “I have to go to the church now,” I said, walking slowly past them. “It’s almost morning.”

  They were dumbfounded, and just parted as I passed, saying nothing. They just let me go.

  Well, most of them.

  I stopped suddenly as I felt something clutch onto my leg. Glancing down, I wasn’t surprised to find Iago hanging on, scowling at me.

  “What do you want?” I said, tired, empty, and dull. “I shot the bad guy.”

  He nodded and let go. His obstruction seemed to return the life to those who were with him, and they all started speaking over each other.

  “M-Mister Pocket!” Alexia stuttered.

  “Hey, not so fast!” Gren called out, scooping his confiscated Half-Luck from the ground.

  “Yeah!” Eddie followed. “Can’t just save a chump’s life and take off!”

  “I am,” I replied. “And it’s my life now.”

  “Uh…what?” Eddie blinked, dropping his jaw.

  I kept walking. “I shot a man. I took a life, and in doing so, I gave up part of my own. The life of yours I saved I’m claim
ing as reimbursement.”

  Eddie laughed. He must’ve thought I was joking.

  “So you get to keep on living,” I continued, “but you’re gunna keep yourself a little farther away from the Reaper from now on, understood? I’d be insulted if you went and lost what I’ve earned here.”

  I paused and glanced back at Eddie. He was smirking at me.

  “Hmph,” he nodded, warmly. “I didn’t think you could be so stubborn.”

  “Get that leg cleaned up, all right?”

  “Just got nicked.”

  “Good.” I inhaled, cleared my throat, and raised my voice. “Make sure they get out of here in one piece, all right, B?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” came a voice from above.

  My companions looked at the sky, and despite the quite audible sounds produced from the steam engines on high, they only just then seemed to notice the ship that had been observing our grizzly little scene from above. It was swimming in a little circle around us. Madame B leaned out of a back window while Quill waved from the cockpit.

  “Enjoy the show from up there?” I asked.

  “Yup,” B shouted down. “A little dramatic and a little gory, but not bad. If there had only been some damn weapons mounted to this flying junkball—”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just hurry up and land.”

  “I don’t take your orders!” she sassed.

  I sighed. But she complied.

  Moments later, the small ship descended to an empty city intersection that was just wide enough to permit a landing, and the dwellers of the tea house climbed aboard. Eddie tried desperately to argue his way off of it, but he was wounded, and we all knew it would only hinder us in a fight.

  “Here, Iago,” Alexia softly said, lifting the child into the machine. “Shall we take a little ride?”

  He nodded. The boy was shaking a little, but he was also putting on a brave front. So was the tea lady, I suspected. I wanted to say something to them, but I had no words. Eddie took up my slack, though, draping his arms around them with a reassuring smile. And I think I saw Alexia blush.

  I smiled and turned to Madame B, who was out of her ship, stretching her legs, and conversing with Gren.

  “So,” she smiled, “would you boys like a ride or—”

  “What happened?” I interrupted. “Did you get to the abbey?”

  She sighed, tucking the smile away. “There were complications.”