Steel Kisses

by Laura Strickland

  “Who’s the fellow brought you here?” asked Meggie. “A workman, by the look of ’im.”

  “Just a Good Samaritan who assisted Lana in finding her way to us. We don’t want to incriminate him or have him punished for his good deed.”

  “Most good deeds do get punished,” agreed the woman with the pockmarked face. “At least, that’s my experience.”

  Lily hoped not. She missed Rey already and would rather return to Dr. Landry than bring trouble to him.

  “You’re one of us now,” said the girl next to Lily. “We’ll look after you.”

  ****

  “A word, sir, if you don’t mind. Michaels, isn’t it? From Liam McMahon’s place.”

  Reynold paused his cart, which held the corpse of an old man found down near the waterfront, unidentified so far and probably homeless. It had been deemed best Reynold should take him back to McMahon’s for a decent charity coffin.

  He’d just left a knot of police at the site and didn’t expect to find another waiting for him here. Yet Brendan Fagan stood rocking on his heels outside the shop, whether in an official capacity or otherwise, Reynold couldn’t tell.

  “As you can see, sir, I’m a bit busy at the moment.” He gestured to the corpse.

  Officer Fagan inspected Reynold carefully with bright blue eyes. “Take your charge inside. Then I’d like you to come down to the station with me.”

  Reynold’s stomach dropped so violently he’d have lost his lunch, had he eaten any.

  His thoughts flew to Lily. They didn’t have to fly far—all this interminable day since he left her at Mrs. Gideon’s he’d been focused on her, wondering if he’d done the right thing and whether she’d be safe there.

  He could hardly believe how much he missed her, and not just her touch or her kisses. He longed to see her again, but didn’t know if he would, or when.

  And now this.

  Had someone at the Haven for Disadvantaged Women ratted him out?

  “What’s this about, officer?”

  “We’d like to ask you some questions, lad, in connection with a series of steamcab thefts here in the city.”

  Hell no, not that. “Steamcab thefts?” he repeated. “But I don’t know…”

  “A man fitting your description was seen at one of the sites we’re investigating for receiving stolen property.”

  “Me? But there must be a thousand men of my description in this city.”

  “Aye, and if we need to, we’ll interview all of them.”

  Liam stepped out of the shop and looked at Reynold sympathetically. “Go with him, Rey. He’s like a bulldog—if someone’s reported you, he’ll not leave it alone, and I can’t have this kind of thing on my doorstep.”

  “Yeah, Liam, but…”

  “Just tell them the truth. Sure, you’re innocent, and the truth will out.”

  Precisely what Reynold feared. Who had dropped him in it? And did he have the wits to talk his way free?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Please tell us where you were on the evening of July fifteenth.”

  As if Reynold could remember. Had he been in Lily’s arms? Had that been the first night they spent together in his bed while Chastity sat by? Had it truly been such a short time ago, though his entire life had changed?

  “You already asked me that question.” He strove desperately to master his visible nervousness and marshal some sort of believable patter. He wasn’t much for patter—wasn’t one for talking, when it came to it. But the two officers, Fagan and another fellow with coal black hair and hard eyes, had him in the questioning room at the station, seated across from them at a big scarred table. And he got the distinct impression he wouldn’t be getting out of here soon unless he came up with a convincing tale.

  If he didn’t get out of here, he couldn’t see Lily again. And he wanted—no, needed—to see Lily.

  He felt sick with worry about her.

  “And we’re asking again,” said the black-haired officer—Brookman, he’d said his name was. So far, Fagan had said little.

  “I don’t remember. Like I said, the days all sort of blur together. I go to work, haul some bodies around, fall into bed at night exhausted. Not too exciting.”

  “Not as exciting as stealing steamcabs?” asked Brookman.

  “I wouldn’t know, would I?”

  “Would it surprise you to know we followed up on information that puts you at one of the wrecking yards where the stolen steamcabs were being broken down?”

  “It would, very much.” He’d visited several; none of the contacts knew him. How could they possibly finger him?

  “Our informant admits he received the stolen property from you, and that his contact who set it up referred to you as ‘Reynold.’ Now that, in conjunction with the informant’s description, jogged the memory of my colleague here.”

  Damn Vern for a stupid weasel, Reynold thought bitterly. Here he’d spent no end of time warning Reynold to keep a tight lip, while he’d been the one to let something slip.

  Fagan spoke for the first time since they’d sat down in the room. “Not too many men in this city go by that moniker—not as a first name, at any rate.”

  “Yeah but there are plenty of Reynoldses.” Reynold started to sweat. “Common enough name.”

  “How many of them do you think match your description? A big man, he said, with brown hair and eyes—not above twenty-five.”

  “Lots of men have brown hair and eyes, Officer Fagan. You know me—I have a good job with Liam. Why would I muck that up?”

  “Lots of reasons. People get greedy. Sometimes they fall into debt. Do you gamble, lad?”

  “I do not.”

  “Well, we’re going to have to put you in a lineup. If our informant picks you out from all the other brown-haired men, well, that won’t be good for you, will it?”

  It wouldn’t.

  “And,” said the black-haired officer, “we’ll be interviewing your acquaintances. Maybe one of them will know a reason you’d be out to make some dirty cash.”

  Sasha. He’d be all too eager to tell how Reynold wanted money to visit the Crystal Palace. And if the cops followed the trail of stolen steamcabs they just might place him there the night of the fire.

  His heart started to thump double-time. If he endangered Lily, he’d never forgive himself, never. But surely the damaged steamcab he’d driven that night had been dismantled long since? And surely Lily would be safe at Mrs. Gideon’s.

  But if the police did put the pieces together, and Dr. Landry managed to start Chastity up again, they would accuse him of stealing Lily also.

  Brendan Fagan eyed him shrewdly. “Sure there’s nothing you want to tell us, Michaels?”

  Reynold shook his head. He’d sooner die than endanger Lily. But he asked, “How long do you mean to hold me?”

  “Just as long as we need to, in order to get the truth.”

  ****

  “I do not understand where Rey can be. I believed he would come and see me last night.” Lily hurried to keep up with Topaz Gideon’s long stride. The woman walked very quickly, her flared crimson coat swinging out behind her. Mrs. Gideon possessed style and confidence Lily could only admire.

  “Perhaps he decided to give you some breathing space.”

  “Breathing space? He is aware I do not breathe.”

  Mrs. Gideon laughed and slowed her step just a bit. “It’s a figure of speech. What I mean is, he may be giving you time to settle in with us.”

  “Oh. But I need to see him.”

  “You also need to lie low right now. Not attract any attention to yourself. Male visitors to the Haven are not encouraged. Too many of my girls have men come looking for them for the wrong reasons.”

  “I understand.” Rey should not come and see her. But she wanted so badly to be with him, it seemed to be interfering with her operation. She ran the sound of his voice through her artificial memory again and again—the way it vibrated through her when he held her close. The
softness of it when he made love to her. She had no reason to continue functioning without him; she might as well flip her own shutoff switch, should something part them for good.

  “Are you certain I should leave the Haven for Disadvantaged Women, Miss Topaz? It is the only place Rey knows to look for me. If he comes there while you and I are away, what will he do?”

  “Go away and return again later, I expect.” Mrs. Gideon slowed her step still further. “Lily, you cannot allow yourself to rely too heavily on Reynold. Independence is good for a woman.”

  “I am not a woman. I am an automaton, and he is my reason for continuing to operate in the world.”

  “You love him.”

  “I do. And I cannot project attempting to live without him.”

  “That’s all well and good. I feel the same about Mr. Gideon. Love can be a powerful and terrifying thing.”

  “Even for automatons?”

  “Oh, yes. This friend I’m taking you to see—he is an automaton and was recently married.”

  “Patrick Kelly,” Lily said immediately. “Rey told me about him.”

  “Yes? Well I attended his wedding, and it was…immeasurably moving. Since he’s one such as you, a hybrid, I’m hoping he will be able to help you more than I can.”

  “After that will I be able to see Rey?”

  “I hope so. There—his house is just ahead. The blue one with the white curtains. Come along, now.”

  The house, tall and narrow, had a red-painted door with a polished brass knocker which Mrs. Gideon employed vigorously. A human woman answered the knock and swung the door wide.

  Tall, with soft brown hair and brown eyes not unlike Reynold’s, she smiled when she saw them.

  “Topaz, come in.”

  “How are you, Rose?”

  “Blooming, as Patrick likes to say.”

  “This is my friend, whom we’re calling Lana. Is Patrick at home?”

  “Yes, waiting for you. Please go through.”

  The narrow hallway opened to a parlor on the left, a high-ceilinged room full of light and books. Lily barely caught back an exclamation. So very many books! They lined the walls and spilled over onto the tables. One rested in the hands of the man who rose from his armchair when they came in.

  No, not a man—Lily, good at noticing details, marked things that denoted him as one such as she. At first glance, yes, he might pass for human. But like her, he didn’t breathe or sweat.

  Yet he embraced Topaz Gideon as any friend might while the woman called Rose stood by smiling.

  “It is good to see you, Pat,” said Topaz Gideon. “Thank you for agreeing to help my friend.”

  “Any friend of yours is a friend of mine.” The automaton had an accent, warm and melodious, that made Lily stare. “I am glad I was off duty today and happy to be of service.”

  He looked at Lily with bright green eyes. “Ah, a model even more advanced than me.”

  “Amazing, isn’t she?” Mrs. Gideon laid her hand on Lily’s arm. “I’m sorry—we shouldn’t speak of you as if you aren’t participating in the conversation.”

  “That’s all right,” the male automaton answered. “She knows what she is, do you not? We carry few illusions. I am Patrick Kelly, and this is my wife, Rose. Welcome to our home.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Please, everyone sit down and be comfortable,” Rose said. “May I offer you some refreshments?”

  Mrs. Gideon sat on the sofa. “Nothing for me, thank you. Pat, we’re here to throw ourselves on your mercy. Lana has quite a tale to tell.”

  “I am all ears, as they say—though you can see there’s also quite a lot to the rest of me.” Patrick Kelly made a grinding noise, and his wife laughed.

  Lily clasped her hands in distress. ”Am I to tell everything?” Should she? Could she trust this automaton? She leaned forward earnestly. “I do not mind risking my safety so much as that of the one I love.”

  Kelly, resuming his seat, studied her carefully. “I understand. And I assure you, Miss Lana, anything you say here will be safe with me. I may be a police officer, but I am first Miss Topaz’s friend.”

  “Good. Because, I would sooner be shut off than bring harm to him.”

  “And they say automatons lack higher feeling,” Rose murmured. “Could they be more wrong?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “I will help you,” Patrick Kelly said once Lily’s long tale had been told. “I and my fellows have worked out the formula for nourishing our organic tissues. I can connect you with a supply. From my observations over the last hour, it is clear you are a more advanced model than the members of the Irish Squad—the next generation, so to speak. But the formula should work, all the same.”

  “This Dr. Landry who created her must be a genius,” commented Rose. She’d perched on the arm of her husband’s chair, and she continually touched him—her hand on his knee or shoulder, her fingers in his hair—as if doing so grounded her. Watching them made Lily ache for Rey.

  “Yes,” Pat agreed. “She has taken the knowledge birthed by Charles and Mason several steps farther. Miss Lana, your voice box is superior to mine. You can hear a slight click when I speak, can you not? And I believe your intelligence is both faster and more adaptive. How quickly did you develop a sense of identity?”

  “I am not sure what you mean, Mr. Kelly.”

  “Call me Pat—all my friends do. What I mean is, when did you acquire a sense of self?”

  “So you perceive that too?” asked Topaz Gideon.

  “Most assuredly. She has a distinct personality.”

  “I do not know, Mister Pat. The more I learned, the more it altered me.”

  “Learning.” Pat smiled and gestured to the room at large. “It is our saving grace. Our one hope at humanity.”

  “I doubt Dr. Landry ever banked on that,” said Topaz Gideon dryly. “I know I didn’t. Pat, I’m ashamed to say I backed the terrible scheme that’s put her in this position. I put money into it. Being acquainted with you and the other members of the Irish Squad, I should have known better.”

  “Your motives were pure, Miss Topaz. You sought to alleviate the suffering we have both seen in the streets of this city.”

  “Yes, but now I’ve dropped these Ladies in it.”

  “We are but machines,” Lily spoke by rote, “and exist to serve.”

  “There you are falling back on your instruction.” Rose hugged her husband’s arm more tightly. “Through my relationship with Pat, I’ve learned no automaton is just a machine. Oh, they might start out that way. But even the lowest-quality metal unit acquires a measure of personality over time. Sophisticated models such as Pat or you, Lana, acquire much more. Tell her, my love.”

  Pat stirred beneath her touch. “Some time ago, at a critical juncture, I was forced to make a choice between being an automaton and being an Irishman. A difficult proposition, as I am sure you agree. At that time I chose the blood I do not actually possess—the essence of being Irish. Now I exist as a kind of melding of the two—automaton in fact, Irishman in spirit.”

  “That’s a good word for it,” Rose said. “Essence. Even when we’re lying in the dark together, Pat, I can feel your essence.”

  “And he possesses a spirit,” Topaz Gideon said calmly. “For better or worse, I have the ability to sense the spirit in all beings—living and dead. I can see a glow around Pat—not as strong as around some people, perhaps, but it’s there.”

  “And me?” Lily could not help but ask. “Can you see a glow around me?”

  Topaz smiled. “Oh, yes.”

  “What I would like to determine,” Pat mused, “is how this personality, for lack of a better word, comes about, and when. Some of mine must stem from the man from whom my tissues—eyes, hair, and skin—were taken. An Irishman, when he was alive.”

  “I do not know from where Dr. Landry took my eyes, skin, or hair. I do not remember back that far.”

  “How long have you been in operation?”


  “I do not know that, either. The first I remember is my training.”

  “Training?” Rose echoed softly.

  “To be a prostitute.”

  Rose made a soft sound and looked at Mrs. Gideon, who shook her head sorrowfully.

  “I should have known better,” she said again. “But I had no idea the models Candace Landry meant to build would be so advanced. That was not the blueprint she presented to us. And I confess I was thinking only of the girls on the street. Now still another misery has been created.”

  “Do not blame yourself,” Pat told her. “You have done much to help the women of this city who are in peril, Miss Topaz.”

  Mrs. Gideon nodded but did not appear comforted. “Anyway, I’d estimate Lana has been in operation some eight months.”

  “And,” Rose asked Lily softly, “you do not want to go back to…that life?”

  “I do not.”

  “Then we will help you. Won’t we, Pat?”

  “Of course, my love, if Miss Lana wants our help.”

  Lily leaned forward and said earnestly, “My real name is Lily. And I would appreciate that very much.”

  “Then,” Pat declared, “we are all friends.”

  Mrs. Gideon got to her feet. “As I have other matters to which I must attend, Lily, my dear, will you mind if I leave you here with Pat and Rose?”

  “I do not mind.”

  “And, Pat, will you see her home safe later?”

  “I will.”

  Lily got to her feet also. “But I need to find Reynold. What if he goes back to the Haven for Disadvantaged Women looking for me?”

  “Then I will of course direct him here. Try not to worry, Lily. I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

  “And,” Rose put in, “he’ll be very welcome here when he does.”

  “You are all very kind.”

  “I will see you later.” Topaz Gideon clasped Lily’s hand before Rose escorted her out.

  Lily and Pat Kelly were left alone. A wonderful opportunity, as Lily realized, to speak with someone like herself, but who had been at large in the world for some time, had learned to function freely and independently, had married.