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Moonlight & Mechanicals

Page 22

by Cindy Spencer Pape


  “Based on the scuffing of the floor,” Dugan said, “I’d guess there were close on a hundred altogether. Maybe half men, half dogs?”

  Wink nodded and stood. “What we need to know now is, where they went, and how.”

  “A boat, likely,” the young constable said. “Though if I was invading Ascot, I’d go by airship. Drop right in the middle of the racecourse.”

  Wink, Jamie and Connor looked at one another, and all of them paled. Wink swallowed hard. “Of course.”

  They ran up to the roof where they found moorings and equipment, but no ship. The army was already long gone.

  “They could be anywhere,” Connor said. “If it were me, I’d have staged somewhere nearby overnight, and been ready to go at just the right time.”

  Dugan nodded. “The royal procession. It’s when the Queen is the most vulnerable.”

  “We need to get to Ascot,” Wink said. “Fast. Maybe we can get the duke to call off the royal procession.”

  Jamie’s face had gone white. He looked at his watch. “It’s too late. All we can do is stem the tide. We need an airship of our own.”

  “The Order has one,” Connor said. “We keep it at the Lakes’ estate here in Richmond. That’s not far at all.”

  “I can fly it,” Wink said. “Let’s go.”

  Connor ran toward the door, the others close behind. “I can telephone Windsor while you get it ready to fly.”

  “Tell them to use electricity by any means possible,” Wink said grimly. “If it comes to saving hundreds of lives, we have to kill the mechanical soldiers if we can’t get to the controllers.” She gulped in a deep breath. “It’s what Liam would want.” Probably most of the others as well, if she stopped to think of them.

  As she hurriedly prepared the small airship for flight, using Jamie and the two constables as crew, Wink ran through every prayer she’d ever heard—to just about any god she’d ever heard of. She wasn’t religious and she wasn’t picky. Connor boarded at the last minute before liftoff, shaking his head.

  “I couldn’t reach anyone except the palace. They said they’re prepared for trouble, but the procession is going forward.”

  “Stubborn royals.” Wink eased the small dirigible up into the air and turned the nose toward Ascot. “Did they at least say if they have electrical weapons?”

  Connor shrugged. “None that I know of. I think we have the only ones.”

  It was the longest hour of Wink’s life, but they saw from the air that nothing was amiss as they approached the racecourse. Neither did they see another airship approaching. Of course there was still a solid thirty minutes before the royal procession would arrive. The convoy was visible a ways down the road from Windsor Castle, surrounded by more soldiers than Wink had ever seen in one place.

  A riot appeared to be going on just outside the public entrance to the racecourse. A fair number of the soldiers had congregated there, drawing them away from their assigned posts, away from where the royal procession would enter the grounds.

  “A distraction, do you think?” Wink asked, pointing toward the fracas. Shouting could be heard even up in the air, over the sounds of the dirigible’s engine.

  “I’d say so,” Dugan answered. “Keeping the soldiers occupied.”

  “Most of the Order will already be in the royal enclosure,” Connor said as they began to descend into a nearby farm field. Several mounted, scarlet-clad soldiers waited nearby, their rifles at the ready.

  All five of the men tossed over sandbags as Wink eased the ship to the ground and switched off the engines. Connor withdrew his Order credentials—they named him as a ranking employee of the Home Office—and waited as Jamie and a constable tossed down the gangplank. He held it high as he made his way to the officer who greeted him at gunpoint. Dugan, with his impressive whiskers and shiny brass badge, walked proudly beside Connor, adding a certain gravitas to their entourage.

  Wink couldn’t hear their argument, which went on for far longer than she was comfortable with. Then her ears picked up the faintest drone of engines from the sky. “They’re coming. We need to get to the Duke of Trowbridge. Now.”

  The lieutenant shrugged. “Fine. My orders are to cooperate with the duke and the Home Office. But you can’t go in the royal enclosure. Not dressed like that.”

  “That’ll do. Bring his grace out to us,” Connor said. “But blast it, man, hurry.” He looked up as if he too heard a dirigible coming.

  Enormous crowds filled the stands and the enclosed lawns while jockeys and grooms worked at their end of the course. Soldiers were everywhere, the Life Guards in scarlet and the Blues and Royals in their azure coats. George loped by Wink’s side while Jojo rode on Jamie’s shoulder. They ignored the riot, though the captains yelled for the other soldiers to return to their posts. The officer Connor spoke with dismounted and walked beside them, leading his horse into the grounds.

  He led them up to the door of the pavilion housing the most elevated parties. Wink could see her father near the door and she waved frantically. Moments later, Merrick emerged, with Kendall Lake right beside him.

  “Bring them in,” Kendall barked to the officer. “Now.”

  “But they’re not dressed properly,” the officer argued. “The rules—”

  “Bugger the rules,” Wink said. “The royal party is almost here and there’s a dirigible coming, loaded with mechanical soldiers.”

  Merrick nodded and Kendall strode off, presumably to rally the troops.

  “Kendall, electricity stops them but kills the men inside.” Wink turned to her father and let him see all the fear in her heart. “Papa? They’ve got Liam.”

  Merrick hugged Wink tight. “We’ll get him back, darling. Werewolves are hard to kill.” More familiar faces spilled from the enclosure, including her mother, Tom, Piers and Lord Drood, a descendant of Merlin and the most powerful magician alive.

  “We think the control devices are the key to shutting down the soldiers without killing them,” Connor added. “Shooting whoever has those would save a lot of innocent lives. The men and women in those suits aren’t willing participants.”

  Just then the royal procession turned into the grounds. The military escort rode ahead, followed by the open landau containing the Queen and Prince Consort.

  The sound of the dirigible drew closer, until Wink could see it emerge over the grandstand. Several of the officers fired, but the hydrogen-containing envelope was protected by a series of loose-fitting metal plates. The procession continued down the field, until the captain of the Lifeguards and the duke ran out and halted the lead horse of the Queen’s landau.

  One of the Yeomen turned and casually shot the captain. People screamed as the man turned his gun on the plump figure of Queen Victoria.

  The Duke of Trowbridge shot the Yeoman, but the horse he was holding bolted, dragging the coach and leaving Kendall’s father in a crumpled heap on the lawn.

  The other guards halted the bolting carriage and a dozen or so others formed a living corridor of men and horses. Smoothly and expertly, they whisked the Queen to the safety of the royal enclosure just as the dirigible landed in the field.

  As soon as the airship touched down, a series of explosions blasted open the hull. Several panels in the sides of the gondola burst open, and troops of bronze-covered men issued forth from some panels, while a stream of marching dogs spewed out of the others. The dogs targeted the public grandstand and the horses on the far end of the field, while the men marched loudly toward the higher-priced viewing areas, with one contingent aimed right at the royal enclosure.

  Chaos reigned. The rioters scattered and ran. Wink lost track of who went where as soldiers fired at the mechanical army only to find their bullets uselessly bouncing aside. The mechanicals destroyed anyone who got in their way, rending limbs and pummeling soldiers and horses alike. Even the hardened cavalry soldiers screamed as they bled to death after an arm or leg was torn off. Others were pushed down and trampled under the marching feet of the m
echanical army.

  Another group reached the stands and began killing those spectators who hadn’t yet gotten away.

  Wink, Jamie and Connor blocked the entrance to the royal enclosure, shooting the oncoming soldiers with their electrode weapons, dropping several. She mentally apologized to the innocent souls inside the suits and with each shot she prayed one of them wasn’t Liam. Her father, Kendall and Tom ran around the column of soldiers toward the airship, pistols drawn. Wink’s mother stood just inside the door. When one soldier pushed past the defenses, Caroline reached out and laid her hand on it, whereupon it collapsed into a clanking heap.

  “Bless Mum and her anti-mechanical powers.”

  Lord Drood and his two sons chanted spells which dropped four and five soldiers at a time. Wink didn’t even pause to wonder if the people inside the felled mechanicals were alive or dead.

  Piers emerged from the royal enclosure with a bucket of water, which he dashed on one of the mechanicals. Someone inside must have started a bucket brigade, because Piers and one of the ladies-in-waiting had another bucketful, and then another. The machines crackled and popped as circuits shorted out and they fell. Two wolves burst out behind Piers and began knocking mechanical soldiers to the ground. Liam’s father and brother? It didn’t matter. The idea was working. Once downed, they were out of combat for a while at least. It was awkward for the soldiers to right themselves.

  “George, attack!” Wink set him to doing the same and reluctantly kept shooting as men, women and horses screamed and died. “Find Liam.”

  * * *

  Liam fought with everything he had to disobey the commands of his suit as he marched out of the dirigible with the others. It was no use. Completely without his permission, his body continued leading his rank toward the royal enclosure. He knew the plan—Eggerston liked to boast. The first rank’s job was to get them inside, but Eggerston expected them to eventually fall. Liam’s rank was to kill everyone in the royal party. Rifle shots pinged off his armor but he didn’t feel them, just saw the sparks. A few soldiers in front of him fell. Good. He hoped he’d die himself before hurting others, perhaps even someone he knew.

  Unable to do anything else, he marched forward, stepping over a fallen comrade.

  A wolf, his black-and-silver pelt ominously familiar, snaked between Liam’s legs. Father? Liam tripped, pitching forward, and the shock must have disengaged a wire or two. He managed to twist his hips and fall on his ass instead. Having retrieved just a little control of his legs, he tripped up the next three soldiers in the row, creating a domino effect.

  Through the fallen mechanicals, he caught sight of a long copper braid. Wink stood by the entrance to the enclosure, shooting frantically with her electrical gun.

  To Liam’s amazement, the thing seemed to work. He watched as one after another convulsed and fell.

  The sight of her sent a burst of energy through his body. He’d gained some control with the fall, and the combination of that and the shock of seeing his lover in the line of fire seemed to make something in him snap. More wires came loose and blood dripped down the back of his neck as he fought his way up to a standing position and turned.

  His feet continued to march forward and he saw her beloved face, ever closer. He concentrated hard, trying to get his body to expel the wires and electrodes.

  Wink was only a few yards away. His arm tried to rise, to smash her aside.

  No! Fury burst through his skull and the wires all burst free, expelled by his body’s regenerative abilities. He was bloody, weak and in more pain than he’d ever been, but he stopped moving, finally able to ignore the commands of the suit. Turning, he stalked back, around the others, toward the ship, praying Wink could hold out a few minutes more.

  A metallic growl sounded from beside him and he looked down. A very familiar mechanical dog loped at his side. “George? Go back. Guard Wink.”

  George ignored his command and continued by his side, knocking other soldiers away. On his other side, Liam saw the wolf—no, there were two of them—doing the same, helping clear a path. Knocking more mechanicals aside as he went, he made it to the hatch of the airship.

  “Take out the control boxes.” Liam heard Merrick Hadrian’s shout, which concurred with his own idea of what needed to be done. He stepped back inside the hatch.

  “Stop!” Trumball stood just inside the ship’s opening, frantically pushing buttons. “Do as you’re told, damn it.”

  “No.” Liam reached out and grabbed the box from the man’s hand. With great pleasure, he crushed it beneath his bronze-covered fingers while Trumball screamed. George bore the man to the ground, and Liam’s father ripped out his throat.

  Liam turned away. He hadn’t planned to kill Trumball quite so quickly, but he didn’t care. All the soldiers in his phalanx had gone motionless. Only the dogs, still slaughtering the horses, jockeys and grooms, continued to move.

  Others had followed Liam back to the airship. He didn’t see them until they passed, the mask limiting his vision. Merrick dashed into the ship to Eggerston, who stood at the far end with the other box. He cast a spell and the remote fell from the woman’s hand and sizzled. All the dogs went still.

  Tom was right behind him and he tied Eggerston’s hands behind her while she screeched profanity.

  Merrick stepped down and paused in front of Liam. “McCullough?”

  “How did you know?” His voice sounded weak and far away through the minuscule mouth hole.

  Merrick lifted an eyebrow. “George and your father seem to think so.” He put a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go get you out of that suit.”

  Liam stepped on the remains of the box, crushing it to bits. He turned back toward the crowd, but before he could move, Wink came running up and threw her arms around him, suit and all.

  “Thank God, thank God, thank God.” She backed away and clung to his arm. “Are you hurt?”

  “Not much.” Thank God indeed. He held perfectly still, afraid to do her harm if he moved. He saw the wolves beside her and sighed. He’d thought the second was his brother, but, no, she was decidedly female. “Father, Imogene, allow me to introduce Miss Winifred Hadrian, my future bride, if she’ll have me.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Ascot Rebellion Massacre would go down in the annals of British history. Not a living soul present had any doubt of that. As Liam let the others lead him back to the stands, he saw the carnage on the fields and at the edges of the stands. Dozens of soldiers had been killed, along with any number of jockeys, grooms and those bystanders unfortunate enough to be next to the rail. Dead and dying race horses and cavalry mounts added to the blood and noise. Liam had no idea if any of the other mechanical soldiers could be saved. Obviously his ability to heal himself had somehow asserted itself at the very end, rejecting the wires controlling him. He had no idea if it would work on the humans.

  “Can you sit?” Wink said as they reached a wooden bench that someone turned right side up for him.

  Liam sat. “Someone needs to find and arrest Kersleigh, if he’s still alive.” He held himself motionless while she unscrewed the bronze helmet. “He’s in this up to his eyeballs.”

  “What about Haversham and the others?” Tom asked.

  Liam sighed. His entire body ached now that sensation had begun to return. “Just Kersleigh. The others were nothing but dupes.”

  Tom and Kendall came back with Kersleigh, spitting and swearing. Piers looked at him and shook his head. “Your brother never knew, did he?”

  Kersleigh looked up. “Knew what?”

  “That you had no intention of letting him be king.” Piers, the genius Hadrian, sighed. “You were the older brother, and if he got the laws reversed to allow illegitimate sons to inherit, then he wasn’t the first Trumball’s logical heir. You were. You were simply letting him pave the way, weren’t you?”

  “You can’t prove that.” He sneered. “You may have stopped me, but this isn’t the end, you know. The rich getting r
icher, the poor dying in the streets. Think of France before the Terror. Bad things are coming. At least if I was in charge, the peasants would think they had a chance at change.” His words turned to cursing as two of the Life Guards dragged him away.

  Over on the lawn, some of the racegoers mobbed and tore apart one of the mechanical soldiers. The poor man was alive and screaming for just a moment.

  “Everyone who isn’t injured, go help the army stop the rioting and start trying to free the others,” Kendall ordered. He carried his father’s still but breathing form into the enclosure.

  “Not the ones we electrocuted. I suspect those are truly dead.” Wink paused to touch the shoulder of his suit. “I’m sorry, Liam. I was terrified you were one of them, but I couldn’t see any other way to save the Queen.”

  “You were amazing,” he said, completely heedless of their audience which included both her parents and his. “No regrets, my love. If I’d been one of the men in front, I wouldn’t have blamed you. I knew what they were making me do, you know. I could see and hear everything. My body simply refused to obey me. I’m sure most of them would have considered their death a welcome release.”

  “The duke will live. So will all of the Queen’s party except for a few of her guards.” Kendall came out of the structure. “Lord Drood, what are our casualties?”

  “No Knights,” the older man replied. “We have some injured—MacKay and one of my sons.”

  “I’ll mend,” Connor said. “All I have is a sore head where one of them clunked me.”

  “Me too, Father,” said one of the Knights who bore a striking resemblance to Drood. “Broken leg is all.”

  “Jamie will mend as well,” the lad piped up from where he sat with his mother bandaging his shoulder. “It’s only a flesh wound.”

  “He caught a ricochet round from someone’s rifle,” Caroline said. “But it went straight through the muscle of his arm. He’ll be all right.”

 

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