The Doomsday Vault

by Steven Harper

  “Work, Miss Michaels. It keeps the body busy and gives the mind time to heal. Pick a cause and work for it. You’d be surprised at what can be accomplished by one person. Or by a small committee.”

  Alice stared at her. Phipps stared back. “I’ve heard rumors,” Alice said slowly, “of an anonymous benefactor who helped the Hats-On Committee retain power by providing funds and connections. Someone who moves outside the normal social circles and has access to incredible resources. You wouldn’t know anything about such a person, would you, Lieutenant?”

  “My offer of a position still stands, Miss Michaels,” Phipps said.

  Alice felt Gavin’s eyes on her. Before she could give in to weakness, she shook her head and marched woodenly back to the lift.

  Just as she was shutting the gate, Gavin darted between the closing bars. “Hold the lift, please,” he said with a weak smile.

  The gates clanged shut, and Alice wordlessly pulled the lever to start their ascension. She didn’t want to be in the lift with Gavin, not now. But it would have been rude to slam the gate shut on him. The lift rumbled as it climbed the shaft.

  “Listen,” he said, “I don’t know why you keep pushing me—us—away, but—”

  “Did Phipps send you after me?” Alice interrupted.

  “No!” He touched her elbow, then quickly withdrew his hand. “I . . . I like you, Alice. I missed seeing you all those weeks and months, when I was training and then in the field.”

  She folded her arms, partly to conceal that her hands were shaking. “That’s not a proper thing to say to an engaged woman, Mr. Ennock.”

  “What happened to Gavin?” He shifted uncomfortably, and his leather jacket creaked. “Alice, I’m not trying to be a . . . a cad. But we can be friends. Why do you believe everyone is so suspicious all the time?”

  The words spilled out of her with unexpected vehemence that filled the lift with hot oil. “Because everyone is suspicious, Gavin. Everyone is waiting to think the worst. I watched it happen to my family after the clockwork plague took my brother and mother and crippled my father. Rather than try to help us, our former friends shunned us because they blamed us. They don’t trust me. I don’t trust me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mr. Ennock, if I work with you, I won’t be able to . . . to keep my distance. You know why.”

  “Do I?” His voice was thick.

  “You do.” A lump formed in Alice’s throat. “And when my control breaks—as I know damned well it will, Gavin—the harpies will be waiting to pounce. They’ll tear me to shreds with their nasty claws and spread my heart and lungs to dry in the sun. I won’t let that happen, Mr. Ennock. I won’t. Too much is at stake.”

  He looked her up and down with those damnable blue eyes, and she knew he was seeing through her. “That isn’t all of it,” he said.

  “It is.”

  “No.” Gavin yanked a lever, and the lift halted with a clank. Somewhere, a faint alarm bell rang, but he ignored it. “In the end, it has nothing to do with me. Tell me the rest.”

  She looked around in desperation, wanting to flee, but there was only the cage. “I’ve as much as told you how much I—There isn’t any more.”

  “No.” His face was stony, but his jaw trembled. “Your face changed when you were talking about blame. Tell me about that, Alice. We have lots of time now.”

  “I—I don’t—”

  “Alice, when the pirates took my ship and killed my captain and my best friend and flogged my back and . . . tried to do other things, I blamed myself. I thought it was my fault for a long time. I hate the pirates, Alice. I hate the horrible things they did to me, and I hate this dirty city they dropped me in. But now—just this moment, just now—I realized that if they hadn’t done those things, I would never have met you. I would be so unhappy and not even know it.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Bad things happen sometimes. That’s just the way the world works. But sometimes bad things send us in a good direction. None of it was my fault. None of it was your fault. It wasn’t.”

  “You don’t even know what it was,” Alice choked.

  He touched her face with the back of one finger as the alarm continued to shrill in the distance. “Then tell me.”

  “They did blame me, and it was my fault.”

  “What was?”

  Words spilled out of her. “When I was little, I managed to slip away from my governess and got outside the walls of our garden. It was so much fun! I found a group of street children, and they let me play with them in exchange for the ribbons in my hair. My parents were frantic, as you can probably imagine. My mother thought a child-snatcher had taken me for ransom or to steal my clothes. Near sunset, Lady Greenfellow, of all people, happened to be riding by in her carriage and saw me with those children. It was bad enough that a baron’s daughter was playing with street urchins, but, worse still, a plague zombie was rummaging around in a dustheap not far from where we were playing. We didn’t even notice. Lady Greenfellow snatched me away and delivered me home. Everyone was horrified, and I was spanked. Only a few days later, fever struck my brother and both my parents. My mother and brother . . .” Tears choked her voice, but the words continued to flow. It was the first time she had ever told this story to anyone, and once she started, she found she couldn’t stop.

  “They died,” she finished. “My father survived, but he was crippled. When the news came out, people whispered. Lady Greenfellow had seen a plague zombie only a few yards away from me, so everyone knew.”

  “Knew what?” Gavin’s eyes were filled with sympathy, and Alice couldn’t bear to meet them.

  “That it was my fault!” she exploded. “The zombie had brushed against me, or I had touched something it had contaminated, and I brought the plague into my family’s house. And later, Father arranged for me to marry Frederick, the son of an earl, but then he took sick and died of the plague, and that was my fault, too. It was all my fault.” Tears were dripping off her chin. She fumbled in her dress pocket and belatedly realized she had no handkerchief. Gavin pressed one into her hand. She thanked him and turned her back to wipe her face in an attempt to get herself back under control. The faint alarm bell continued its shrill, unhappy cry.

  Two strong arms encircled her from behind, engulfing her with strength and the smell of leather. “It’s all right,” Gavin murmured. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “It was,” she whispered. “Oh God, it was. And now I’ve finally earned my way back into society’s good graces. I’m engaged to a proper man, and I’ll live in a proper house, and I’ve finally begun to pay back my father for bringing the plague into his house and killing my family and making everyone say dreadful things. I won’t give them a chance to say those things again, Gavin. I won’t. That’s why I can’t ever be with . . . why I can’t join the Third Ward.”

  He said, “I understand.”

  His arms were still wrapped around her. For a moment, Alice let herself relax against his male strength, let herself imagine that this moment would go on forever. She felt safe here. Then she straightened and stepped from him. He let his arms drop.

  “I need to go.” She handed him back his handkerchief. “Start the lift before someone panics.”

  He did. They emerged at the main floor and found a small crowd of people looking anxiously at them.

  “We’re all right,” Gavin said. “Small malfunction, I guess.”

  “I guess,” said Simon d’Arco. He looked between Alice and Gavin as the crowd dispersed. “Miss Michaels looks a bit upset.”

  “I’ll be all right.” Alice forced a smile. “Agent Ennock offered to summon a cab for me.”

  Outside, the chilly fog surrounded them like a damp fist. Alice could barely make out the street from the gate and heard only the clopping of hooves and rattle of wheels on the stones, both of them slow and cautious. It was perfect plague zombie weather, which meant everyone who could stayed indoors, but two English institutions—the Royal Mail and London carriag
e drivers—were famous for ignoring the plague zombie threat and making their services available at all times. A hack was waiting just outside the gate, in fact, and whether it had been there all along or whether someone had summoned it for her, Alice didn’t much care.

  Gavin offered her a hand into the cab, and she felt as if she were leaving home instead of heading toward it. He shut the door and suddenly leaned through the open side window. The driver checked the horses.

  “Listen,” Gavin said. “The first thing I bought for myself when I got my salary was a pair of standing tickets to the symphony at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane. The orchestra plays twice a month, and the next performance is tomorrow. Come with me. As my friend.”

  “I can’t, Gavin.” She didn’t think her heart could stand being torn so often and still keep beating. “Please don’t ask again. It hurts too much.”

  He reached for her hand, then pulled back when she shied away. The damp invaded the cab and clung to her skirts. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  “I need to go,” Alice whispered. “Norbert is worried.”

  Gavin’s eyes were bright. “He is. I know he is.” He stepped back from the hack, and the driver clicked to the horses. Alice had to turn and watch him as the cab pulled away. In seconds, the fog devoured Gavin in whiteness, and he was gone.

  Norbert was waiting for her when she got home. His brown eyes were worried but reserved. “So,” he said, “what happened?”

  Alice handed her borrowed straw hat to the footman, who managed to take it with disdain despite its painted features. “I was delayed.”

  “Overnight?” His voice rose a little on the last syllable.

  “It wasn’t planned. Get me a cup of tea and I’ll explain.”

  Over a hot drink in the parlor, she gave him the half lie, that she had gone after the stolen machines on her own and gotten them back from Barton by herself, thereby protecting Norbert’s reputation. She left Gavin out of it entirely, and since Phipps had arranged for the newspapers to remain silent, there was no way for Norbert to gainsay her.

  Norbert had narrowed his eyes just a little as she finished her story, and she was sure he didn’t believe her. For a moment, she thought he was going to call her out. But then he nodded. Everything remained smooth and tidy as a newly swept rug. Norbert drained his whiskey glass and set it down hard.

  “I’m glad you’re all right,” he said. “Let’s elope.”

  Alice’s hand jerked, and she slopped tea into her saucer. “What?”

  “Let’s elope,” Norbert repeated. “We’re not planning a big wedding, anyway. You’ve often called for simplicity, and nothing is simpler than eloping. Besides, your little adventure showed me how easily I could . . . lose you. How about the end of the week?”

  Alice felt as if she’d been whacked on the back of the head with a board. The room remained silent except for the faint hissing of the radiators and the soft crackle of the fire in the grate. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn against damp evening fog, and it felt as if they would eat any answer she gave. What could she say to this? She couldn’t help comparing dry, stolid Norbert and the squalid secrets he kept in a square, mechanical house to bright, merry Gavin and the golden music he made in a rose-strewn tower. The comparison made her want to fling her cup down and flee.

  “Tongues have been wagging at the amount of time you spend here,” Norbert said into the silence, “even if nothing untoward is happening. People know your father is an invalid and not much of a chaperone. I’d hate to move him out at this stage just for the sake of propriety.”

  Alice froze at the implied threat. “Of course not,” she said faintly.

  “And I forgot to mention—some bill collectors came round while you were gone. I put them off, but they said they’d be back. Something about criminal charges again. Rubbish, of course, and a good legal man would put a quick stop to it. I have an excellent barrister and a team of solicitors on staff, so you needn’t worry that your father will be dragged to jail. As long as I’m on your side.”

  “Oh,” Alice said. Her social reflexes took over, and her mouth moved of its own accord. “Thank you. That’s . . . You’re very kind.”

  “Nothing’s too good for my fiancée.” Norbert sipped his drink again and looked at her hard. “It would be much easier to handle these problems if we were married. I can’t pay the debts of a young woman I’m not married to. People would say it was—well, you know what they would say. And people do say.”

  “Right,” she said. Norbert’s arguments were hot pokers drilling through an armor Alice had only recently managed to build. Norbert was right. More importantly, Norbert was safe. Alice didn’t know what Gavin wanted from her, not really, but Norbert had never been anything but forthright about his expectations. With Norbert, her future might be dull, but it was absolutely certain. Gavin offered excitement, but with it came chaos, for both her and her father. It wasn’t fair to punish Father for her choices.

  “At any rate,” Norbert said, sipping again, “to the matter at hand. Time’s running out. Shall we elope?”

  He didn’t say the word or, but it hung in the air nonetheless, harsher for all its silence. Alice forced a smile over her cup.

  “Of course, darling,” she said. “What other answer could I give?”

  Louisa snipped the head off a rose and dropped it into the water bowl, where it floated like a drop of blood. “I want the truth. Rumor has it you’re eloping.”

  Alice jumped and nearly dropped the daisies in her hand. She and Louisa were standing at a table in the sunroom, arranging flowers because the automatons were no good at it. Outdoors it was cloudy, but the sunroom’s tall windows were still thrown open to let in the mild summer breeze and interesting traffic noises. Lately, Alice had taken to letting her little automatons loose about the house—no sense in keeping them cooped up in her workshop in a houseful of larger automatons—and a pair of them flittered about the room like whirligig bats. Click, draped lazily over the fireplace mantel, watched them with slitted green eyes. Kemp, newly repaired after his unfortunate encounter with Patrick Barton in the metalsmith shop, stood in the corner.

  “Where did you hear that?” Alice demanded. “We only decided yesterday evening and haven’t said a word to anyone.”

  “So it’s true, then.” Louisa toyed with a clockwork button on the front of her green satin dress. “By we, do you mean you and Norbert, or you and Gavin Ennock?”

  “Louisa! It’s Norbert, of course! ”The whirligigs squeaked and rushed out an open window, as if startled by Alice’s outburst. Click jumped down and bolted after them. “We’re getting married in three days, in fact. But you still didn’t say how you heard about it.”

  “Please, darling!” Louisa snipped off more rose heads and let them fall into the bowl. “I know all and tell nothing. I just don’t understand why you’re sticking with Norbie after learning about his . . . odder habits. I was there, darling, so you can’t lie about it.”

  “I don’t want to go into it again, Louisa. I’ve already had it out with Gav—Mr. Ennock on this topic. Can’t we just drop it?”

  “No.”

  Alice blinked at the sharpness in Louisa’s tone. “No?”

  “No. It’s clear to me that you’re unhappy with Norbert and that you’re only marrying him for his money.”

  “And he’s only marrying me for my title. It happens all the time, Louisa.”

  “That doesn’t make it right or desirable.”

  Alice jammed the daisies into a vase and stuffed in some baby’s breath. “Why the sudden change of tone? You’ve always supported whatever decision I’ve made so far. Now you’re gainsaying me.”

  “There’s no time left, darling. Not with your freedom ticking away like a dying automaton. Why so sudden?”

  “We saw no reason to delay further,” Alice said, resolving to stay firm.

  “Ah. Norbert suspects there’s something going on between you and Gavin, and he wants you mar
ried quickly.”

  Heat rose in Alice’s chest. “Nothing is going on between us!”

  “The color in your face says otherwise,” Louisa replied. “However, we can talk about something else. Such as the young man who’s about to burst into the room with fascinating news.”

  “Young—what?” The abrupt shift derailed Alice’s train of thought. “Who are you—? What—?”

  “You’re a landed fish, darling. Ah, here he is.”

  Hat still on his dark head, Simon d’Arco rushed into the room, brown eyes wide and wild. One of the automatic footmen trailed him. Its face had been dented, apparently in an unsuccessful attempt to bar Simon’s way. Kemp also stepped forward.

  “Miss Michaels!” Simon panted. “Quick! You have to come!”

  “Zzzzzir!” buzzed the footman. “Zzzzzzir, you muzzzzzt leavvvvve at—”

  “It’s all right, Charles,” Alice told it. “You may go. Stand down, Kemp. Mr. d’Arco, what do you mean by bursting in like this?”

  “Saw his horse through the window,” Louisa said. “I feel rather like a detective.”

  “We need you, Miss Michaels,” Simon said. “At once!”

  “Whatever for, Mr. d’Arco?” Alice replied. She kept her face calm, but underneath, her heart beat fast and she leaned forward with a growing excitement she could barely contain. “You have a number of people at your disposal.”

  He glanced at Louisa, remembered himself, and snatched the hat off his head, revealing mussed black curls. “We,” he said, avoiding mention of the Third Ward, “captured a powerful war automaton in Germany, and we’re transporting it to headquarters via dirigible. The automaton is too powerful to leave running about, and we’ve deactivated it so we can put it into the Doo—” He shot another glance at Louisa. “Into permanent storage. The ship carrying it will reach London airspace any moment.”

  “What has this to do with me?” Alice asked.

  “If that war machine falls into the wrong hands, thousands of lives could be lost,” Simon continued. “But we’ve received word from an anonymous source that a clockworker intends to steal it en route. We can’t allow a lunatic to control such a machine, Miss Michaels.”