Steel Kisses

by Laura Strickland

  “I need your husband.”

  “He’s not here—working. His shift started shortly after you left. He won’t be home till seven.”

  “Can you reach him?”

  “Maybe. Here, set her down. Tell me what happened.”

  “I killed her.”

  “What?”

  Reynold laid Lily carefully on the Kellys’ bed and stood back, trembling. “I told her we shouldn’t see each other anymore. She just—shut down. I found her button—her button…”

  He froze on the word. Rose Kelly pushed him down onto the edge of the bed. “Here, sit before you fall. Take deep breaths.”

  “She has a switch. Oh, God.”

  A curious expression crossed Rose Kelly’s face, sympathy mixed with cool understanding.

  “Listen to me, Reynold. I don’t know what made you tell Lily you don’t want to see her again, but I can imagine what it did to her. She adores you from your socks to the top of your head.”

  “I know. I don’t deserve her adoration.”

  “She’s a hybrid automaton. It doesn’t matter what you deserve. It only matters that she decides. I may be one of the few people in the world who understands your position. I stand where you stand.”

  Reynold blinked at her, knowing it for truth. “You married him.”

  “I did, and I thank my stars for it every day. Do you suppose I’m any more worthy of Pat than you are of Lily? I’m not. When I met him, I hated myself. Hated. I wanted only to die. He brought me back from that. He stands guard over me every day and shelters me with his love. Yes, love.” Her brown eyes turned fierce. “I’ll go up against anyone, any day, who says steamies don’t have feelings, or that they can’t love. Because I know different. I live his love hour by hour and moment by moment.”

  Reynold’s throat closed. Somehow he forced the words through. “I’m not good enough.”

  “You think I am? I tell you again, it doesn’t matter. She needs you. And sometimes we have to put others ahead of ourselves.”

  Reynold’s eyes moved to the form on the bed. “But she’s…gone. There was only a breath of steam.”

  “Pat may know how to get her restarted. We’ll have to wait and hope.”

  A sound at the door interrupted her, the turn of a key in the lock. “There’s Pat now. I wonder why he’s home so soon?”

  Pat Kelly came in, dressed in his uniform, looking barrel-chested and taller than ever. He took in the scene with superhuman speed, nodded at Reynold, and looked at Lily laid like a corpse on the bed.

  “Ah, this is convenient. I thought I’d need to chase you down.”

  “Why?”

  “The news is all over the city—Candace Landry has revived Chastity, who has given a description of the man that spirited her away. There is a citywide search on for the fellow who stole both her and Lily.” Pat quirked one red eyebrow. “As I understand it, that is you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “What do you mean to do?” Reynold eyed Pat Kelly with misgiving. A police officer, member of an elite squad no less, and on duty. What could he do?

  Pat Kelly took off his hat, laid it carefully on the arm of his chair and strode to the bed.

  Reynold sprang to his feet as if hauled up by ropes. “I won’t let you take her.”

  Kelly gave him a look from bright green eyes. “If you intend to engage me physically, I assure you, you will not prevail. I have the strength of at least four men.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You’ll have to pound me into pulp before I’ll let you take her back to Dr. Landry and her old life.”

  Kelly tipped his head before looking at his wife. “He loves her.”

  “It seems so, Husband.”

  “Mister Reynold, I have no intention of turning her over to Dr. Landry.”

  “You don’t? But you’re a policeman. You have orders.”

  “And I bend them when I think I should—for moral considerations. What has happened to her?”

  “She…she shut down.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “I’m not sure. I told her I didn’t think we should see each other anymore. She started shaking real bad, and went into this…this state you see.”

  Kelly bent a hard green stare on him.

  “Easy, Pat.” Rose laid her hand on the sleeve of his uniform. “He meant it for the best. He didn’t feel himself a worthy recipient of quite so much love.”

  Kelly swiveled his head to look at her, and she took a step closer to him. For a moment Reynold thought she meant to push her way into his arms, but she merely gazed at him. Suddenly, tenderness filled the room.

  “Remember,” Rose said softly, “we talked about this. It is not easy being responsible for another person’s happiness. It was not easy for me.”

  “I understand,” Pat said. He looked at Reynold again. “I also understand how it felt for her, having your presence withdrawn. It stunted her operations. She has…ceased.”

  “Can you restart her? And how long will she be all right like that?”

  “Indefinitely. We can keep her tissues nourished with the enzyme formula. And I may be able to restart her. I do not know for sure.”

  “Try. Please. I’ll do anything you ask, anything at all. You can turn me in to the authorities if you like. So long as Lily’s back.”

  “I do not like. And I do not believe it would be a good idea to restart Miss Lily now.”

  “Why not?”

  “It will be easier to hide her in her current condition.”

  “Hide her?” Reynold swallowed convulsively. “But you’re a cop.”

  “Above all, I am her friend.”

  “But where can we hide her? Not at Mrs. Gideon’s.”

  “No. Too many eyes there. If Dr. Landry has indeed extracted the information from Chastity and word gets around the city that one of Landry’s Ladies is missing, along with a description of Miss Lily, one of the girls there is sure to put the pieces together.”

  “Oh. Then, where?”

  Pat looked at the bed. “She looks like a corpse, does she not?”

  “Yeah,” Reynold agreed unhappily.

  “And did Miss Lily not tell me you work transporting corpses around the city? What could be more likely?”

  “You mean…”

  “I suggest you go get whatever conveyance you commonly use in your business. There has been a death at this address. You have been called to collect the corpse.”

  “I… Yes, I guess I could do that.” Through the dark streets, with everybody looking for her… He shuddered inwardly.

  “But where can I take her that they won’t look?”

  “It would be natural for you to convey a corpse you have collected back to the coffin shop where you work. Is that not where you usually take them?”

  “Yes, mostly. We fit them for coffins before either taking them to the cemetery or to their families.”

  “Then I suggest you hide her in one.”

  “A coffin?”

  “Yes, just until the situation stabilizes. Meanwhile, I shall call upon Miss Topaz and my fellow members of the Irish Squad to institute a movement for change. It is time we put an end to Dr. Landry’s practices and established rights for those such as we.”

  “Do you think you can?”

  “I do. My good friend James Kilter is fighting for the rights of animals, and Miss Topaz for disadvantaged women. We are no different.”

  “Well, that’s a battle I’ll fight at your side. But I still don’t think I’m good enough for her.”

  “Mr. Reynold.” Pat leaned forward. “It’s simply not up to you to decide if you are or you are not.”

  ****

  The empty cart rattled alarmingly over the brick streets as Reynold trundled his way back to Pat Kelly’s house. He humped it up onto the sidewalk, hoping to progress more quietly, to little effect.

  Halfway along, on a corner, he ran into a policeman on patrol. The fellow strode along purposefully, swinging his stick. Reynold c
ould almost feel it make contact with his skull.

  The officer slowed as he approached and eyed Reynold up and down.

  “Hey, there—what are you doing out at this hour?”

  All the breath promptly fled Reynold’s body. If Chastity had already spoken to Dr. Landry, the police could have his description. They might be able to figure out where he worked. This cop, appearing so casual, might already be onto him.

  “Just out on a job, sir,” he choked out, sounding as humble as he could manage.

  “What sort of job? What do you have there?”

  “Nothing, sir. It’s empty.”

  The officer eyed him up and down, and Reynold felt grateful for the darkness, the fact that the night was overcast, and they were between street lamps.

  “Funny time to be pushing an empty cart around, isn’t it? The middle of the night.”

  “I work all hours, sir. I’m from McMahon’s, picking up a corpse.”

  The officer backed off a step. “You got a corpse in there?”

  “No, not yet. I’m just on my way. I told you, it’s still empty.”

  The officer twitched aside the leather sheet with which Reynold routinely covered the corpses, moving as if he expected to see a giant spider. The boards of the cart bottom came into view.

  “Well—what’s the address where you’re bound?”

  Reynold gave the number on Bryant Street.

  “Pat Kelly’s place?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Must be all right then. Who died there? Nothing wrong with his wife, is there?”

  “No, sir. It was a…a visitor he was helping, as I understand.”

  The officer grunted. “Well, be quick about it.”

  “Just as quick as I can, sir.”

  Reynold rumbled off, sweating. When he looked back, the officer had moved on.

  He reached the Kellys’ in a state of agitation to find Pat had returned to work. He begged a blanket from Rose, not liking to lay Lily on the boards where so many corpses had rested, and placed her there with tender care.

  “Hide her well,” Rose cautioned. “Pat said to warn you if Dr. Landry does have your description, the authorities may look for you at the coffin shop.”

  “Yes, I thought of that.”

  “Good luck.”

  He crept through the streets like a ghoul, keeping to the shadows and making his journey all the longer by avoiding the main thoroughfares. By the time he reached the rear of McMahon’s, he wanted to fall down. But he parked the cart in its usual spot before lifting Lily in his arms and carrying her inside.

  Good thing he knew the place so well. He dared not light any lamps, and almost no illumination trickled in from outside.

  He stood with Lily clutched to his chest, trying to determine what best to do with her. None of the coffins in the showroom would serve. Several of those in the storeroom were, as he knew, spoken for. That left a huge mahogany job and a couple pine coffins knocked up for emergencies.

  He’d much rather place his treasure in the fancy model, yet this definitely qualified as an emergency, and since there were two pine coffins, he had one to spare.

  He carried Lily into the storeroom, which smelled of raw lumber.

  “Forgive me,” he whispered as he laid her down long enough to open the coffin that lay along the back wall.

  Liam McMahon refused to make a substandard coffin. Even this model had a soft lining and pillow. As he tenderly placed Lily there, Reynold told himself she didn’t need to be comfortable and wouldn’t know where she was.

  “I’m sorry,” he told her and pressed his mouth to hers. “Sorry I ever said what I said. If we get you going again, I hope you’ll understand what I meant. I love you, Lily.”

  He closed her eyes very gently, placed the lid on the coffin, and stacked the second pine model on top of it, telling himself again she wouldn’t mind—couldn’t mind. Then he staggered outside and stood taking deep breaths until convinced he could keep the contents of his stomach down.

  ****

  “You look like hell. Where did you spend the night, under a whore?”

  Reynold turned a glare of some intensity on Sasha.

  “I hate to say it,” Liam spoke mildly, “but he’s right. You sure you’re feeling all right, lad?”

  All three of Reynold’s fellow workers looked at him with varying expressions, Sasha’s full of sly enjoyment, Pete’s curious, and Liam’s sympathetic.

  “I’m not feeling great. Think I ate something bad.”

  Sasha sniped, “He likely caught something from one of those doxies he’s been poking—or in jail.”

  Reynold flushed. He’d explained his absence and made his excuses—and abject apologies—to Liam as soon as he came in, worried as to whether he still had a job. If Liam turned him off, what would he do about Lily lying back there in the storeroom?

  But Liam had been understanding, saying, “It happens to the best of us from time to time.”

  “Nothing was proved against me,” he snarled at Sasha now. “The matter’s been dropped.”

  “The police should know you are too stupid to pull off any kind of criminal activity. Dumb as a stump.”

  “I’m not too dumb to smash your face in,” Reynold retorted, suddenly aware he wanted nothing—almost nothing—so much.

  “Go ahead, fool!”

  “There’ll be none of that here in my establishment! Rey, if you’re up to it, go and fetch the corpse waiting at Mr. Hennessy’s boarding house on Swan Street. It’s a charity case, mind. Man has no family. He’ll have to go in the pine coffin.”

  Reynold froze. “Are you sure?”

  Liam flashed him a look. “Sure I’m sure. I’m not after putting him in that big, grand model, am I?”

  All right, Reynold told himself. They still had one pine coffin to spare. He could manage this.

  But leaving Lily there in the back with the three men in the building taxed him to the limit. Feeling the effects of his trying night in full, he once more rolled out his cart and made his way to the address in question with as much speed as he could muster. Once there, he found his charge in a squalid room that smelled of vomit, sprawled in his own filth. He made a mental note never to lodge there and hurried the corpse back to McMahon’s.

  To his horror, he found Pete in the storeroom, only partially hampered by his still-damaged hand, and the top pine coffin standing open.

  “What are you doing?” he gasped.

  “Thought I’d get the coffin ready for you. Want a hand cleaning him up?”

  Reynold eyed the second coffin; barely an inch of pine protected Lily from Pete’s gaze. Best to get the boy out of there.

  “Yeah, all right,” he told Pete. “He’s a right mess.”

  “Come on, buddy. I won’t let you suffer on your own.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “You are up to something, aren’t you? I can smell it on you.”

  Reynold started and spun to see Sasha leaning in the open doorway of the storeroom with his arms crossed and the familiar, avid look on his face.

  He pumped out a breath. Thinking himself alone, he’d been about to lift the coffin lid for a peek at Lily—a close call.

  “I would almost think you were guilty of stealing those steamcabs, if I did not know better.”

  “I thought you said I was too dumb to be a criminal.” Reynold turned his back square on Lily’s coffin and faced Sasha fully.

  “That is how I know better. But you are looking sneaky, Rey. And I know you wanted money to go see your little dove.”

  Jesus, Sasha was getting way too close. Reynold considered smashing him in the face just for the sheer pleasure of it, weighing the odds of it landing him back in jail. He couldn’t afford that now.

  “I wonder how many men have had her since you. Maybe I will go there after the place reopens and see if I can poke her—I mean, it—myself.”

  “They’re going to reopen?”

  “Da. I hear that woman who runs
the place announced it. They have already started rebuilding.”

  Reynold, swamped by consternation, said nothing.

  “So tell me how it feels, Rey, banging a machine. Can you tell?”

  “No.”

  “Nyet, I suppose they could not charge so much if you can tell. And I hear they will do anything, those machines. Just think how many men she had in her mouth before you kissed her.”

  “Shut up.”

  “What did you say to me?”

  “I told you to shut the hell up.” Reynold stepped toward him. “Don’t you remember what happened last time you flapped those ugly lips of yours? Do you really want to keep prodding at me?”

  “I do not fear you. I am twice the man you will ever be,” Sasha sneered. “You could only satisfy a whore—or a machine.” He grinned. “Like that piece of steel trash you paid so much for.”

  “Shut up!” Rey hollered. His hands fisted without his permission and, focused as an enraged bull, he waded in.

  He caught several satisfying images of his fists crashing into Sasha’s face and the blood flowing before Liam and Pete pulled him off the other man. By then, he’d smashed Sasha off every surface in the room, lastly the lid of Lily’s coffin, which bounced with the impact and slid an inch or two awry.

  That paralyzed him even before Liam seized hold with powerful hands and dragged him off his target.

  “All right, lad. Enough.”

  “He had it coming—again!” Other than being out of breath, Reynold felt unharmed. But, damn it, his hands hurt.

  He peered down at Sasha, who at last lay silent, his face a welter of blood and his blue eyes open.

  “Is he dead?”

  “I don’t think so. Pete, check him out.”

  Pete hunkered down while Liam hauled Reynold still farther away. Sasha, as Reynold saw, lay mere inches from Lily’s coffin.

  “He had it coming,” he repeated.

  “No question. I only hope you haven’t killed him—’twould be bad for my business and land you right back in a cell.”

  “Still breathing,” Pete reported. “He’s probably too ornery to die.”

  Sasha groaned and began to swear. Sitting up, he spat blood, accompanied by several teeth, and focused on Reynold with difficulty.

  “I’ll have you for battery,” he bellowed. “Liam, call the police.”