Moonlight & Mechanicals

by Cindy Spencer Pape

  “You know better. I’m on your side, ducks. Always.” Jamie lifted his glass. “You’re family—even back in Wapping, you were my sister. I just didn’t know it.” He’d only been nine when they’d come here to live, and Wink had wondered how much Jamie remembered of their life on the streets. “Truth be told, I thought you were an angel at first—come to take me to heaven after my aunt and uncle threw me out.”

  “You were only five,” Wink said. “I’d hoped you didn’t have memories of them.” Jamie’s aunt and uncle had been deeply religious, and had turned him out after he’d had a premonition, claiming he was marked by the devil. She’d found him in an alley, starved nearly to death, and carried him home to Mrs. Miller’s.

  Jamie shrugged. “I remember this and that. Not clearly, but I remember you and Tom taking me above the tea shop and feeding me. I was so hungry I thought I had gone to heaven when you gave me milk and scones. Then hell when you made me take a bath. So you don’t ever need to ask. Just tell me what I can do to help.”

  “I don’t know. I suppose it will simply have to work itself out in time.” She was touched by his offer, though, and his mention of Mrs. Miller reminded her of the other puzzles she’d been facing. Jamie had an excellent head for strategies. Maybe he’d have an idea of how to help find Eamon.

  A while later they both half dozed in front of the fire as Jamie picked apart everything she’d told him about Eamon, the metal men and even Liam’s incipient rebellion. “I’ll see what I can see,” Jamie said. “I’m not as well known in town as Liam, so they might approach me more easily. Besides, anyone who knows me from school considers me a rakehell younger son, while he’s got ‘honest copper’ written all over his face.”

  Wink knew better than to tell him no. He’d fought vampyres and press gangs as a boy and now he was a man. She couldn’t insult him by treating him as a helpless child. “Thank you. But please, be careful. Mum and Papa are rather fond of your hide.”

  With a laugh he stood, and hauled her out of her chair. “Go to bed, Wink. It’ll all look better in the morning.”

  It was something Nell used to tell them every night. Wink laughed, doused the lights and trailed behind him up the stairs. “Stay out of trouble, you twit.”

  Jamie laughed, slipping into his room, down the hall a few from hers. “Same goes, ducks. Same goes.”

  * * *

  Liam paid off the driver and let himself into his small rented house. His only servants were a middle-aged couple, and both would have long since gone to bed. As soon as he stepped into the hall, though, his nose told him he wasn’t alone on the first floor. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled. Someone—another man—had invaded his territory. Half a second later, he recognized the scent and located the source. His fangs receding, he draped his frock coat over the banister and sauntered into his study.

  “Connor. What brings you here at this time of night?”

  The young Knight lounged in a chair next to Liam’s desk, a glass of Irish whiskey in his hands. “Your man let me in and left the decanter.”

  “I’d assumed as much. If you’d asked, he’d have brought you the Scotch your father gave me last Christmas, rather than my Irish.” Liam sat in his own chair and poured himself a glass of the smooth amber liquid. Connor wasn’t potted, but he wasn’t in top form either. What had happened tonight? Liam raised his glass. “Cheers.”

  “Drinking your piss water keeps me from getting too soused to walk.” Connor touched his glass to Liam’s with a wry grin. “Cheers yourself.”

  “So what can I do for you?” Liam rolled the peat-flavored whiskey around on his tongue, trying to get the taste of Wink’s mouth out of his mind. It wasn’t working, which made it hard to look Connor in the eye.

  “I kissed Wink.” Connor unknowingly blurted out the same thing Liam had been thinking. Liam’s hand shook, but he swallowed and set his drink down as Connor continued. “There was nothing between us. No spark at all. Maybe I should just give up.”

  No spark? With Wink? The man must be an automaton. Liam squeezed his eyes together. “Are you sure?”

  Connor shrugged. “As sure as I can be. At least she’s never been less than honest. She just doesn’t see me that way. I suppose it’s time to cut my losses. Maybe my father can get me transferred to Scotland, or Wales, or Timbuktu.”

  Liam was tempted to get on an outbound dirigible himself. Damn it though, Wink needed a man, one who would keep her out of trouble and love her with everything he had. If not Connor, then who? At least him, Liam could have trusted to do right by Wink. “You can’t give up on her yet. She needs you.”

  Connor raised one eyebrow. “You’ve put an awful lot of effort into thinking about what Wink needs. Why don’t you just marry her yourself?” He poured another glass of whiskey.

  “Because I can’t.” Liam bared his teeth and helped himself to another dram. “Now I saw just the thing today to get you back in her good graces.”

  When Connor left a half an hour later, Liam was ready to bash his own head in out of frustration. How was he supposed to get Wink safely married off if Connor couldn’t think for himself? He banked the fire in his study and made his way through the darkened house to the kitchen door, then let himself out.

  Once in the disused carriage house, he repeated his activities from the night before, stripping and transforming into his wolf. Hopefully this time he’d make it farther than a few blocks, though having vampyres to kill wouldn’t break his heart. He licked his chops as he trotted through alleys and slipped between buildings, staying off the gas-lit streets. Though most Londoners would take him for a big dog and leave him alone, it was still better not to draw attention. The pea-soup fog mixed with coal smoke to create a nearly solid layer of darkness on the streets. The smells of human waste, soot and rotting garbage were stronger at this level, but Liam had long ago learned to ignore those. They were nothing more than the background odor of town.

  It was a long run, but he made it all the way to Wapping. He hadn’t had a chance yet to poke around the steps in his wolf shape. His sense of smell was sharper like this, and he might be able to track something. He lingered near the steps where Lolly Archer had been grabbed. This close to the river, other scents mingled into the London miasma—dead fish, polluted water and even more coal smoke. There was machine oil on the steps, but that could have come from any of a thousand sources—a worker on the way home, a passing ship, an automated street barrow. Clinging to shadows, he patrolled up and down the main riverfront thoroughfare, watching the tradesmen, sailors and working girls pass by. Nothing out of the ordinary here, though there was a greater sense of urgency and fear than might be normal. If word of the disappearances had gotten around, that would account for the clustered groups and hurried steps.

  Liam returned to the King Charles steps. If the kidnappers were escaping with their prey by boat, sooner or later, they’d have to use one set of steps or another. He watched until the steps were empty, then made his way down. This was where Lolly said the mechanical man had fallen. Liam nosed around in the weeds beside the stairs, looking for something, anything to provide a clue.

  Eventually he nosed out something metallic, a small piece about the size of his thumb and jointed, that also smelled of blood and flesh. Hiding in the shadows, he shifted to human form and tucked the bit into the pouch he kept around his neck. Then, back in wolf form, he continued to watch the steps.

  When the first signs of dawn tinted the smoky sky, he sighed. No kidnappers tonight in Wapping. Finally tired enough to sleep, Liam made his way home just before full daylight. His housekeeper/cook, used to his odd hours, merely nodded as he passed through the kitchen on his way upstairs.

  He sat in his bedroom and studied the bit of metal. It was bronze and jointed, perhaps part of the finger of an automated servant or worker. A closer look showed it was hollow—more of a glove than a digit. Inside, torn bits of blood and flesh remained. This might very well be a part of Lolly’s metal man. Liam carefully
wrapped it in a clean handkerchief. He’d take it to Order headquarters later today. For now, he could nap for an hour or so before he needed to be at the Yard. He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

  * * *

  “I’ve brought you a present.”

  Wink sat up so quickly she banged her head on the bottom of Connor’s desk as she heard his voice. She scooted out to sit on the floor and looked up at him, rubbing the tender spot on her scalp. “Don’t do that. You’re as bad as Jamie.”

  “Sorry.” Connor’s grin belied the word. He lifted something wrapped in brown paper and string. “But I think you’ll like your gift.”

  “Of course I will.” Now her temples throbbed as well as the bump. After last night’s kiss with Liam, she had to give Connor a definitive no. It wasn’t fair to keep him hanging on, hoping to change her mind. “Connor, there’s something we need to talk about—but not at the office.”

  He held a chair for her then settled into the one behind his desk. “I heard that Jamie’s in town. Sent down again? What for this time?”

  “Yes, and I have no idea. We didn’t get to discussing that last night.” She bit her lip. “I’m worried about him. The only thing he wants to do is fight, but he doesn’t have the magick to be a Knight, so in the Order, he’d always feel second best. That wouldn’t work for him either.”

  “His foresight is a powerful gift.” Connor steepled his fingers on the desk. “But it isn’t fully under his control, is it? And no, he’s not a Knight. You’re right about that. Has he thought about the military?”

  Wink sighed. “That’s all he can think about. And Mum is adamantly opposed.”

  Connor shrugged. “Most mothers are. That doesn’t mean she won’t come around. She’s already dealt with having Sir Merrick and Tom in constant danger as Knights, and you know young Will has the power as well. I can see why she’d prefer to have Jamie and Piers in safer occupations.”

  The idea of having all her brothers in danger was nauseating. Wink frowned at Connor. “Will is only five. Don’t make plans to initiate him yet. Joining the Order should be a choice, not an inescapable fate.”

  “It is always a choice, but I’ve never heard of anyone who had the power not choosing to use it.” He looked into her eyes. “Do you want me to have a chat with Jamie?”

  Wink shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps if you think it would help to talk to someone outside the family. For now, I’ve put him to work by sending him to Mrs. Miller.”

  “Good. Focusing on her troubles might give him some of the impetus he needs to sort himself out.” Connor shoved the package across the desk to her. “Now stop borrowing trouble and open your present.”

  Wink lifted the package. “It’s some kind of gun.” She hastily untied the string and unwrapped the paper. The weapon she revealed was the newest thing, on the covers of all the technological magazines. The belt pack had a big hand crank to wind up the dynamo, while the gun portion fired electrodes that would shock the target, paralyzing them temporarily.

  Wink picked it up, letting her fingers caress the shining chrome, copper wiring and black rubber tubing. “A stun gun. Oh, Connor, it’s wonderful. I’ve seen the schematics for these, but hadn’t had time to build my own. I didn’t know they were available on the market yet.”

  He gave her a wide, boyish grin. “They’re not, but I was able to contact one manufacturer and get you an experimental model. If you like it, Kendall will requisition a supply for the Order.”

  “Well, it’s wonderful. I can’t wait to try it out. Thank you.” Guilt ate at her for accepting the gift when she knew she had to break things off, but this was something she simply couldn’t resist. Besides, as the Order’s technological consultant, it behooved her to examine the weapon to see if it was suitable for wide-scale use. “I wonder if it works on vampyres.”

  Connor snorted. “I’d as soon you didn’t find out, thank you very much.”

  “Now who’s being overprotective?” Wink picked up the booklet that came with the weapon and tapped it on the desk.

  He held up his hands. “I know, I know. You can handle yourself. That doesn’t mean I don’t worry. If it’s any consolation, I worry about Tom too, and Geneva and Melody.”

  “That’s because it’s in your nature to care.” She leaned over and squeezed his shoulder. “That’s not a bad thing. Thank you.”

  “That’s me, the perpetual worrywart. Now let’s both get back to work, and at luncheon, we can go out to the gun range so you can test-fire that thing.” The Lakes kept a small estate in Richmond, just over the Thames, where the Order could train and test new weapons without attracting unwanted attention.

  “Excellent.” She crawled back under the desk to finish wiring his terminal and tried not to notice that he stayed in the doorway for several minutes, staring at her ankles. She’d tell him at noon. Time enough to break his heart when they weren’t at the office.

  At ten-thirty, Wink was back in her own small workroom, on the basement level of the Camelot Club premises when a messenger arrived from Liam.

  Found by the King Charles Steps, she read. Part of Lolly’s metal man? There was no further explanation on the note. She donned thin rubber gloves to open the package, in case of toxins, and also in case there were chemical compounds she could isolate and identify. The less contamination, the better, though Liam had undoubtedly picked it up with his hands.

  It was small, obviously torn from a larger piece at the joint. At first glance, it appeared to be the fingertip of a bronze automaton. That would certainly be in keeping with the witnesses’ statements of metallic men in Wapping and Rotherhite. She turned it over with a pair of tweezers, finding it hollow, with bits of dried flesh clinging to the inside, including—uggghh—the very tip of a man’s finger, with the bone fractured off. A suit, then, as Liam had suspected.

  She tugged on the fingertip and found it was wired to the metal. This was truly odd. It was almost the same technology used to make a prosthetic limb, where the mechanism was connected directly to the nerve endings. This metallic skin had been wired directly into the person wearing it. So was the suit controlling the man or the man controlling the suit? Either way, it didn’t bode well for the people who’d been abducted. She boxed the item, wrote up a quick report on it and sent copies to Kendall and, by courier, to Liam. Eventually, the finger would go into the Order’s collection of oddities and items of evidence, but for now, she’d keep it in her workshop, in case she thought of further tests she could run.

  Noon came, and she changed out of her coveralls into her street clothes of a plain brown skirt and white linen shirtwaist. Just as she and Connor were walking out to his car, Jamie popped around the corner, dressed in the worst clothes she’d seen on him since they’d left Wapping.

  “Hullo there,” he called, waving to them both. “I’ve got some news.”

  With a quickly concealed grimace, Connor waved Jamie over. “We’re headed out to the gun range. Can this keep?”

  “No worries, I’ll come along.” Jamie helped Wink into the passenger side of the vehicle, then scooted her across the single seat until there was room for him to climb in beside her, which he did, much, she was sure, to Connor’s dismay. “Haven’t been shooting in a while. Not done at public school, you know.” He imbued those final words with a degree of distaste someone else might reserve for a mass murderer or, say, the plague.

  Wink wrinkled her nose as the odor wafting from her brother filled her nostrils. Squashed between Jamie and Connor, there was no escape from the stench. “Jamie, have you been drinking? Or just bathing in ale and cheap gin?”

  He laughed. “I had a pint down at the Wigged Pig. But I wanted to blend in on the street in Wapping, so I poured a bit of blue ruin on my clothes.”

  “And whatever you heard was too important for you to go home and change before telling us?” Connor started the small steam car and eased it out into traffic.

  Wink could hear the frustration tinting his voice, as w
ell as his affection for Jamie. She understood—she’d hoped to be alone with Connor as well, but had to admit to some relief at the reprieve. “So tell us,” she said to her brother. “What did you find out?”

  “Well, there are more missing than the police seem to know about.” Jamie rubbed his hands together. “People there don’t like talking to the coppers, but to a chap willing to spot them a pint? They’ll talk his ear off. Seems both men and women have vanished. At first they blamed vampyres, or press gangs, but there’ve been too many without any sightings of monsters, and press gangs don’t take women or dogs.”

  “Dogs?” Wink frowned. “I think Liam mentioned that dogs had gone missing as well. I wonder if they used the dogs for experimentation before they tried something on humans?”

  “Well, if so, then they’re still experimenting,” Jamie said. “One of the bartenders at the Pig lost his Alsatian just a few days ago.”

  “None of this makes any sense,” Wink muttered. “What is someone doing? White slavery? That seems unlikely with automatons becoming so easily available for manual labor. Besides, that wouldn’t explain the missing dogs. No, it’s almost as if someone’s amassing an army.” She told them about the finger Liam had found, and about her supposition that it was part of a suit that tapped into the body’s nervous system.

  “For what it’s worth, some of the missing people are prostitutes.” Jamie tapped his fingers on his knee. Like her, he was never content with sitting still for more than a minute. “So slavery of some sort is a possibility. They could be setting up some kind of sex trade. I spoke to a girl at the Pig who said there are two missing from her house in the last week.”

  “But Eamon Miller certainly wasn’t a street walker,” Wink said. “Neither were the two men from the carnival. So again, we’re faced with the fact that whoever it is, they’re not particular about their choice of prey.”

  “Except no one has reported missing children or elders,” Connor said. “I’ve noticed that. Nobody under fourteen or fifteen and no one past thirty-five or thereabouts. Apparently whatever the purpose, the culprit is looking for people in their prime. Maybe you’re right. Maybe they are building some kind of army.”