The Doomsday Vault ce-1

by Steven Harper

  “Has something important happened?” she demanded, feeling a bit put out that he hadn’t offered her a hand up.

  “Checking for damage,” Gavin explained, removing the instrument. “It belonged to my grandfather. So far it’s survived smacking a man on the chin, playing Hyde Park in the mist, and, apparently, sliding down a madwoman’s tower staircase. It’s a miracle it isn’t broken.” He skimmed the bow across the strings.

  “I’m sure I’ll want to hear all the details,” Alice said, surprised at how much she meant it, “but for now, I think we need to find our way back out.”

  He stopped playing. “Don’t you know how to get out?”

  “The way in was rather sticky, in more ways than one.”

  “Why exactly are you here? Do you know why I’m here?”

  “Oh!” Alice put a hand to her mouth. “In all the excitement, I didn’t have a chance to say, did I?” She gave a quick explanation about the strange conditions of Aunt Edwina’s will, Alice’s own meeting with the solicitor, and of how she’d tracked Gavin through the house.

  “I wonder if your aunt Edwina is the woman who got me captured, the Red Velvet Lady,” Gavin said when she finished. He ran his bow over the strings again in a merry lilt. “I saw her when I was brought here. Not that it matters much if we’re leaving. And have you noticed that the gargoyles seem to like my playing?”

  The knee-high metal gargoyles that crouched on the wall surrounding the courtyard were staring at Gavin, and their eyes glowed red.

  “Why are they doing that?” Alice breathed.

  “I don’t know. They didn’t do it when I was in the tower.”

  He stopped playing. The gargoyles continued to stare. Gavin took several steps toward the house, and the gargoyles’ heads rotated to follow. “How did you get into the courtyard?” he asked.

  “That way.” Alice pointed to the double doors at the top of the balcony. “But the room beyond is filled with traps.” She turned to look at the rest of the courtyard, fists on hips. Several other doors led into the main house, and a gateway had once provided a larger exit. Unfortunately, the gateway had been bricked over, and all the doors to the main house but the one Alice herself had used seemed to have iron gratings welded over them. Alice pursed her lips.

  “I don’t like being herded,” she said. “And certainly not by a dead relative.”

  “Did you bring anything to cut bars or climb walls with?”

  “No.”

  “Then we’ll have to put up with being herded.” He strode toward the stairs leading up to the balcony. “Are you coming?”

  “Mr. Ennock!” She hurried to catch up. “We haven’t properly assessed all the-”

  “Look,” he said without breaking his stride, “we can stand in the courtyard debating the obvious all night, or we can do something about it. I’ve been sitting in that tower for days, so I’m ready to act. You can act stupid and stay, if you want.”

  She caught his elbow. “That’s no way to talk to a lady.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Gavin said. “We’ve assessed there’s no other way out, so let’s go. Would you like my arm?”

  Alice noticed she still had his elbow. “Please!” she said huffily.

  “Though I sort of wonder,” he added thoughtfully, “if they object to our leaving.”

  The dozen-odd gargoyles were clambering down the wall and knuckling toward them like grotesque apes. Iron fingers and feet clattered on the cobblestones.

  “No more assessment,” Alice said. “Quick!”

  All three of them ran up the stairs. The gargoyles gained speed. They swarmed up the steps and climbed the balcony wall itself, their fingers and toes punching holds into the mortar. Gavin slammed the double doors, and Alice shot the bolt. A heavy weight slammed the other side. The door shuddered, and the bolt started to give.

  “Do exactly as I do!” Alice ordered. She pressed herself to the wall and retraced her original steps to get around the pivoting trapdoor. Gavin didn’t question her, but he imitated her. Click followed more sedately as the doors cracked. Alice cleared the pivot near the top of the stairs that led down to the main room, where the automatons rushed about the grooved floor. Pendulums swung, pistons clanked, and pipes jetted steam for a purpose Alice couldn’t begin to imagine, and all of it between them and the exit. Gavin stared down at it all, entranced. The double doors shook again.

  “What is it?” he asked in wonderment.

  “I don’t know,” Alice said. “But it’s laced with deadly traps, and I barely got up here alive. And the front door is locked. Even if we got through it, we couldn’t get out.”

  “So why did we even come in here?”

  “You were the one who said we were done assessing,” she said. There was another blow to the balcony doors. Dust trickled down from the ceiling.

  Gavin didn’t seem to hear her. His eyes grew vacant as he studied the noisy chaos below. “There’s something I can’t quite see,” he said. “If I can just figure it out. .”

  The door smashed inward, and the gargoyles swarmed through, their grim faces and glaring eyes filled with metal anger, or so it seemed to Alice. Uncertain, she glanced at Gavin, who clearly wasn’t registering his surroundings. The gargoyles knuckled toward them, straight over the pivot trap, which didn’t budge.

  Of course not, Alice thought grimly. She waited until the closest gargoyles were only a few steps away, then set her foot on the trapdoor and pressed down. Instantly, it pivoted. With a simian screech of metal across wood, most of the gargoyles plunged into the pit beneath, scrabbling ineffectively as they went. One took a swipe at Alice’s dress, but she yanked herself free. The trapdoor flipped over, and they were gone. The remaining four gargoyles eyed Alice warily from the other side of the balcony.

  “Come on, then, if you’ve a mind to,” she said with more bravado than she felt. “I can probably kick your… assessments quite handily. Mr. Ennock, what are you doing?”

  “Grooves in the floor with four spaces between,” he muttered, “and automatons that roll across them. What’s going on?”

  One of the gargoyles pointed at the narrow path near the wall, the way Alice and Gavin had bypassed the trapdoor. They moved toward it, joints creaking. Click arched his back and hissed at them.

  “Mr. Ennock,” Alice warned, “I could use some-”

  “I’ve got it!” Gavin said. “It’s a song!”

  “And how will that help us?” Alice demanded.

  “The grooves in the floor are staff lines. The pendulums beat time. The automatons are the notes. They move the music forward like a player piano. So, what happens if I play it?”

  The gargoyles edged along the wall, nearly halfway to them. “Try it!” Alice said. “Do it now!”

  “No assessment?”

  “Gavin!”

  He looked over the edge, violin in hand, then raised instrument and bow and began to play. The melody was fast and complicated, in a minor key, and it made Alice think of demons dancing in a volcano. How was Gavin managing to sight-read that? The song sent shivers down her spine.

  The gargoyles continued edging toward Alice. She stepped back, toward Gavin, but a few bars into the song, the gargoyles froze. Their heads, then their bodies, swiveled toward him. Each one took a step toward him like a sleepwalker caught in a lovely dream. Alice waited for the right moment, then stepped on the trapdoor again and snatched her foot back. The door pivoted, and the gargoyles vanished.

  “They’re gone,” she said. “You can stop now.”

  But Gavin ignored her. The song gushed from his violin, flowing like magma down the staircase to fill the room. His handsome face remained absolutely fixed in concentration, and the tendons on his hands stood out like wires. Alice swore she felt heat radiating off him. It lapped at her skin and slid down her body. Below, the automatons sped up, but Gavin kept pace, his fingers flying across the neck. Steam gushed from the pipes, and the pistons blurred so fast, Alice couldn’t tell they were moving. Towa
rd the back of the enormous room, a hammer the size of a carthorse drew back on a spring. Now that she was aware of it, Alice could see that every movement of every automaton had become geared toward winding the spring that pulled that hammer back. The heat and speed intensified, and a trickle of blood ran down Gavin’s left hand. Still he played, caught by the fiendish melody. The hammer cranked back to its full potential. Gavin played one long, long note. Alice tensed. Then Gavin stopped. He stood panting at the balcony rail, his hair mussed and his eyes wide. The automatons were frozen in place.

  Alice found she was breathing hard herself, and she felt unaccountably excited.

  “Why did you stop?” she whispered.

  “That’s it,” he whispered back. “The song’s over.”

  “But what was it for? Why did we go through all that-Duck!”

  The hammer fell. Alice and Gavin dropped behind the balcony wall with their hands over their ears as the poll struck. The bell thundered doomsday through Alice’s bones. Every window in the big room shattered, the glass falling like broken feathers to the stone floor. Gavin curled around his fiddle. Click shut his ears and pressed his nose into Alice’s skirts. Alice’s entire body vibrated. Her world became that one dreadful note.

  And then it was over. Silence fell over the room. Alice peeped over the edge of the balcony. A few shards of glass tinkled to the floor. The motionless automatons lay scattered everywhere, and the machinery stood stock-still.

  “You did it,” she said. “Holy God, you did it. You were absolutely amazing.”

  “Was I?” Gavin uncurled and stood up. “Thanks, Alice.”

  She blinked, affronted. “Miss Michaels, if you please.”

  “You called me Gavin a moment ago.”

  “Did I?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I must have forgotten myself in the heat of the moment. I beg your pardon.” Alice brushed her dress down and wished desperately for her hat. At least she still had her handbag. “Is it safe to go down there, do you think?”

  “Nothing’s moving, so probably. You could toss Click over the side and see what happens.”

  Alice didn’t dignify that with a response, though her cheeks were still burning from her faux pas with Gavin’s name. As a test, Alice nudged the pivot trapdoor. It didn’t move. She stepped on it, then jumped on it. It still didn’t move. “Well, this trap is frozen. That’s a good sign.”

  They carefully descended the stairs into the main room and got no reaction from the automatons or anything else. Alice made her way back over to the bloodstain and, keeping low, prodded the floor space. The crushing pistons failed to appear. She stood and dusted her hands.

  “I’m willing to say we’re safe,” she declared.

  “If you say so.” Gavin put his violin back into its case and strapped it to his back. “Are we going to explore this place or get out?”

  “Since the traps are deactivated, I intend to explore,” Alice said. “Aunt Edwina left me this house for a reason, and I want to find out what it is. You may do as you wish, of course.”

  “I don’t have anything else to do,” Gavin replied. “And I want to know why she kidnapped me. So, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll stick by. There has to be another door in here somewhere.”

  “Where should we begin, then?” Alice asked, glad for the company, and inexplicably glad that the company was Gavin. His presence made her feel more alert, more alive, and she found herself moving with an energy she hadn’t experienced before.

  They looked about the room. In addition to the scattered automatons, broken glass, and motionless machinery, there were several closed doors. Alice hadn’t taken much notice of them earlier-Gavin’s violin music had come from the balcony, and she had ignored other exits as irrelevant. Gavin gingerly opened one.

  “I’m guessing this goes to the kitchen,” he said. “And that one leads upstairs.”

  Alice peered inside the latter. “Nothing of interest up there.”

  “How do you know?”

  “The steps are dusty. No one-or thing-has trod them for months, or even years.”

  “Ah.”

  Alice opened another door and found a worn set of stone stairs heading downward. She caught a whiff of damp air and chemicals. “This looks promising.”

  Gavin sniffed the air as well. “Laboratory?”

  “That’s my assessment.”

  “Let’s have a look.”

  “Click,” Alice called, “light, please.”

  Another pop, and Click was ready to light the way.

  “You do realize,” Gavin said, “that we’re about to descend into the hidden laboratory of a mad scientist who kidnapped me and tried to kill both of us.”

  “Perhaps madness runs in my family.”

  “That’s not very encouraging.”

  With Click going ahead to provide light, they headed down the stairs.

  Chapter Seven

  Gavin Ennock touched the mechanical nightingale in his pocket for luck as he followed Alice and her clockwork cat to the bottom of the stone staircase. After days of captivity on the Juniper and two weeks in the tower, he found it a blessing to talk to another human being, and especially to a woman as remarkable as this one. He supposed he should be going first down the steps, but it was technically Alice’s house, and she had taken the lead before he could say anything. His fingers were sore and a little bloody from the frantic playing earlier, and he felt tired, let down from the fear and excitement.

  “Good heavens,” Alice said at the bottom. Her voice echoed in a large space, but Click and his eye beams were too far ahead for Gavin to make out what she was looking at.

  “What is it?” Gavin asked. “I can’t see anything.”

  “I think there’s an electric light here,” she said.

  Alice turned a switch just as Gavin arrived at the bottom. Lights blazed up, revealing an enormous room with ragged stone columns. Sprawled across the space lay a maze of worktables, equipment, glassware, bookshelves, and machinery.

  And it had all been smashed.

  The glassware lay in shards. Books were scattered across the floor. Flasks of chemicals had been shattered. Machines had been pulled apart. A wall safe had been broken open, the door left hanging by one hinge. Alice put a hand to her breast.

  “This is awful,” she murmured.

  “You don’t hear me arguing.” Gavin stepped carefully around a pile of broken glass.

  “It makes me want to weep, Mr. Ennock,” Alice said. “I’ve always scraped along with secondhand tools in a tiny bedroom. Now look at this waste and wreckage. And I still don’t know what’s happened to my aunt.”

  Gavin wanted to put an arm around her in comfort. She had lost her hat somewhere, and her honey brown hair was coming loose from a French twist, making her look forlorn. Her wide brown eyes complemented her triangular face and small nose. Despite being disheveled, she was beautiful, and strong, and fascinating. This woman knew what needed doing, and she seemed determined to do it. Hell, she had navigated that nightmare room of automatons before he had played them into silence and had faced down marauding mechanical gargoyles. He wasn’t sure he would have had the nerve.

  “I know what you mean,” Gavin said. “Losing something important is hard.”

  “Yes.” Alice slipped a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “Well. Do you suppose whoever smashed all this also kidnapped or killed Aunt Edwina?”

  “It’s possible,” Gavin said, “but the timing is a bit off. You said she stopped contacting her-what was the word? Solicitor? — several months ago, except I’ve been here for only a couple weeks. If your aunt Edwina is the Red Velvet Lady, that would mean she had those men grab me after she disappeared.”

  “After she stopped contacting her solicitor, you mean,” she replied. “But yes, you’re correct. And we don’t know when this damage was done. Today? Last week? Last year? And is any of it related to that bloodstain near the front door? So many questions I don’t
have the answers for. It’s maddening.”

  “Let’s keep looking around,” Gavin said. “Though I don’t know what I’m looking for. I’m more of a musician than an engineer or mechanic.”

  “You’re a very fine musician, too,” Alice said.

  “Oh.” The compliment brought a warm feeling to Gavin’s chest, and he flashed Alice a smile. “Thanks.”

  Alice seemed embarrassed, and she quickly turned to examine a pile of machinery. “That’s an unusual arrangement for a violin case, I have to say,” she said. “Don’t most players carry theirs by the handle?”

  “Not on an airship,” he said. “You want both hands free.”

  “You mentioned a ship,” Alice said. “I assumed you were a sailor. But you’re an airman.”

  “Was,” he said. “Flying is the most wonderful profession in the whole damned world, pardon my language. You glide above the clouds and everything is fresh and fine and pure. You can see the whole world, and music carries a hundred miles.”

  “How did you come to London, then?”

  He told her while they poked through the wreckage of the laboratory, though he deliberately left out the part about Madoc Blue and his harsh hands. Blue still nipped and tore at Gavin’s clothes at night, and behind Blue stood the first mate with his heavy whip, and Gavin often woke up soaked in terror sweat. Even talking around it made his heart jerk. It was difficult enough to tell Alice about the deaths of Tom and Captain Naismith and the loss of the Juniper. As he spoke, his hand began to ache, and he realized his fist was clenched around the nightingale in his pocket, though the longer he spoke, the more he began to relax. It felt strangely good to tell someone else about it.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Ennock,” she said when he finished. “Perhaps when we’re done here, we can find a way to get you back to Boston.”

  Hope touched Gavin. After the pirates and clerk at Boston Shipping and Mail and the kidnappers, the idea that someone was willing to help him brought an unexpected lump to his throat.

  Click meowed and batted at a pile of metal in a side niche. It was the shell of another automaton, painted black and white, as if it were wearing a butler’s coat. Two light-bulbs formed eyes, and a metal grate gave it a sort of mouth on an otherwise blank brass face. On a table beside it lay a jumble of parts-gears, pistons, wheels, and other bits Gavin didn’t understand. Click meowed again.