Supernatural Devices (A Steampunk Scarlett Novel: Book 1)

by Kailin Gow

  “This is a railway station,” Scarlett observed.

  Cruces nodded. “Victoria Street, to be precise. You took some finding.”

  “How did you find me?” Scarlett asked.

  Gently, Cruces reached out to take her wrist, exposing the inside of it. There sat a small mark in the shape of a crown and an eagle. “My mark. With it, I can track you quite easily.”

  “You marked me?” Scarlett was not sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, it had apparently meant that Cruces could find her. On the other, she was not cattle to be branded. Certainly not without her consent. “When?”

  “Last night,” Cruces said. “It seemed like a necessary precaution, and I am glad I did now. I should have warned you that Cecilia has a penchant for sleeping draughts and spells.”

  Scarlett thought back to the chanting she had heard back in the camp. “No,” she said, “that was not her. Cecilia was attacked too. There were other people there. Men, I think. They were the ones who did this.”

  Cruces thought for a moment. “Then you are lucky that this is all they did, and that I was able to find you so quickly.”

  “When did you start looking for me?” Scarlett asked. She had not thought that Cruces would care enough to bother. At least not for a day or two.

  “Almost immediately after you left the public house, of course. I knew you would not let things rest.”

  “And yet you did not find me at the camp?” Scarlett asked.

  Cruces looked faintly embarrassed. “I told you that the gypsies like to use spells. One of them wards off certain… categories of people. I could not approach.”

  Scarlett started to ask what category that might be, when she looked over to the side, where a news stand stood, selling the broadsheets. By it, she saw a familiar face. Tavian. The handsome young gypsy man stood there staring straight at her, and the instant Scarlett noticed him, he beckoned to her.

  Scarlett stood, and Cruces stood with her. “Forgive me,” she said to Cruces politely. After all, he had come after her to help her, “but it seems that there is something I must take care of. Will you excuse me a moment?”

  Cruces looked past her, to where Tavian still stood. “I do not think it is a good idea for me to leave you alone right now.” He waved off Scarlett’s complaint. “Yes, yes, I know that you are a perfectly capable young woman, more than able to defend yourself, but I suspect this game has become much more dangerous. You remember the group Holmes mentioned, the Order?”

  Scarlett nodded.

  “Well, if they were involved, you are fortunate to be alive. Why exactly they left you, I do not know, but I will not take any further risks. I take it the young man is from the gypsy camp? He looks it.”

  “That is Tavian,” Scarlett said. “Cecilia’s brother. And I think he happens to look very handsome.”

  Cruces subjected Tavian to a brief appraisal. “I suppose if your tastes run to the wild and the unruly. Though I think you will agree that he is not quite as handsome as I am.”

  Scarlett laughed at that. “You have quite an opinion of yourself. Would you agree that anyone was as handsome as you?”

  Cruces raised an eyebrow. “More to the point, would you, Scarlett?”

  Scarlett let that go. It had been a long night, and even if it seemed to be morning now, she was too tired to complain about Cruces using her first name. “I still do not think you should go over there with me,” she said.

  “And I insist that I should, if that is Cecilia’s brother.”

  “You know the gypsies don’t like outsiders,” Scarlett argued. “You have said yourself that they put up wards to keep those like you out. Do you wish to cause trouble?”

  “Usually,” Cruces said, “but not in this case. I will watch you from here then. Watching seems to be the eternal curse of my kind.”

  His kind. Another small hint for Scarlett to digest. For now though, there was the question of Tavian, who stood there looking just as dark and brooding as he had the previous night, but whose face lit up as Scarlett approached.

  “Tavian?” Scarlett began. “What are you doing here?”

  She did not bother asking how he had found her. After Cruces had done it so easily, it hardly seemed worth asking.

  “I came to find you,” Tavian said. “My sister is gone. They took her. The Order took her.”

  He knew about the Order too. It seemed that Scarlett knew far less than everyone about what was going on. She was not sure that she liked the sensation.

  “If they have taken Cecilia,” Scarlett said, “it is probably because of the ring she took. She was showing it to me when she was abducted.”

  “Then you must help,” Tavian insisted.

  Scarlett spread her hands. “What can I do to help? I have already proved that I can be targeted by them as easily as anyone.”

  More than that, there was Holmes’ warning to consider. He had explicitly instructed her to steer clear of any deeper conspiracies. Part of Scarlett, however, the part that resented being kept on the edges of things like that, pointed out to her that she would still just be looking for Cecilia and the ring.

  “You are already different,” Tavian explained. “Most people the Order get to… disappear, but they left you. I wonder…”

  He moved close to Scarlett. So close that Scarlett could imagine what it would be like being swept up in an embrace by him. So close that she half imagined that might be what the young man had in mind. Yet what Tavian actually did was to turn Scarlett around and raise her hair. His fingers touched a tender spot on her neck, and for an instant, Scarlett was surprised by the movement, but it was so gentle, so careful, that she did not complain.

  “They have marked you,” Tavian said. “They have tattooed you with the symbol of the Order.”

  Two marks discovered in almost as many minutes. Honestly, Scarlett wondered, did nobody bother to ask before doing this kind of thing anymore? She was not quite as scandalized by the thought of tattoos as some young ladies might have been; after all, she had spent time with her parents wandering among tribes who thought of such things as entirely natural, but even so…

  “For crying out loud,” Cruces said from so close to her that Scarlett started once more. How had he moved so fast and so silently? Scarlett tried not to move as his fingers traced the same path over her neck that Tavian’s had. “He’s right. It is the mark of the Order.”

  “Are you going to tell me what that means then?” Scarlett demanded, turning to face Cruces and Tavian. “Or am I to be left to guess? What is this Order, and why would it mark me?” Scarlett tried not to show any of the worry that she felt. Annoyingly though, Cruces obviously picked up on it.

  “Chin up, Scarlett. It’s not that much to worry about.”

  “It is,” Tavian said.

  “Well yes,” Cruces admitted, “it is. After all, the Order is probably the single most evil group around, dedicated, as far as I can tell, to nothing more than causing death and destruction in any world they can find, human or otherwise.”

  That was indeed quite a bit to worry about. Scarlett shuddered. “Just how dangerous are they?”

  “Exceptionally,” Cruces said. “They are deceitful things, largely supernatural, but able to appear as ordinary enough people. Worse, if they have marked you rather than taking you, it means that they have plans for you.”

  “Why would they want my sister?” Tavian asked. “Why would they want the ring?”

  Cruces shrugged. “It is powerful, but the details… who knows? I do know that the last time the Order made a play in London, they made an almighty mess. They started a feud between vampires and-”

  “And gypsies,” Tavian said. “Yes, I know. At least as well as you. Now though, I must try to find my sister.”

  He turned to Scarlett, looking her in the eyes so that she could take in the deep green depths of his gaze. He stared just a second or two longer than he should have.

  “Farewell, Miss Seely.”

  He hurried
off, deeper into the station, and for a second or two Scarlett found herself staring after him. She tried to pretend as she did so that her heart was not beating faster. Beside her, Cruces made a small sound of disapproval.

  “You know, he really isn’t your type, Scarlett dear. You shouldn’t let your heart start fluttering at the thought of him.”

  Scarlett turned to Cruces, finding him slightly closer than he should have been when she did so. “I am not your dear, and at least Tavian has manners. In fact, I shall go after him. Presumably, he did not come here to ask for my help idly, and it was he who found the mark on me after all. Whereas you just added one of your own.”

  “True,” Cruces said without so much as a trace of remorse. “Of course, he neglected to tell you that the two marks serve much the same purpose. Just as mine allowed me to find you here, the Order’s will allow them to track you down any time they choose.”

  “Any time?” Scarlett repeated.

  Cruces smiled, but there was genuine sympathy in this one. “It is a worrying prospect, is it not? The greatest bunch of killers and mischief makers out there wants to know where you are at all times. Worse, when they have gotten whatever it is they want from you, they will undoubtedly take you the way they took Cecilia.”

  Scarlett swallowed, forcing her expression to something approaching firmness. “You are trying to frighten me.”

  “Only because you should be frightened,” Cruces explained.

  Scarlett raised an eyebrow. “Only that?”

  “Well, no,” Cruces admitted. “I was also hoping that I might be able to persuade you to let me walk you home. After all, we have much to discuss.”

  Scarlett thought about everything that had happened to her since meeting Cruces. She thought about the marks on her, the different stories he and Cecilia had told her, and about the new threat from the Order. She also thought about the fact that she had arrived in London the previous night and had still not been home.

  “Yes,” she agreed at last. “I think that we do.”

  Chapter 10

  It was as they walked along Grosvenor Place that Scarlett realized that they were not heading in the correct direction to see her safely home. She told Cruces this, and the young man nodded.

  “I said that I would walk you home, Miss Seely,” he pointed out. “I did not say that it would be to your home.”

  “You mean that we are going to yours.” Scarlett paused, half inclined to simply turn around and head for her own home. It was not much of a walk. Certainly not compared to the distances she had covered the previous evening. “You are taking a tremendous liberty there, Lord Darthmoor.”

  Cruces smiled. “I think it is not that kind of liberty you are worried about.”

  Scarlett drew herself up to her full height. “Exactly what are you suggesting?”

  “I meant the mark on your wrist. Why, what did you think I was suggesting?”

  They both knew exactly what Scarlett had thought in that moment. “Isn’t that mark of yours bad enough? You have said yourself that the Order is evil, yet as far as I can see, you have done exactly the same thing as them.”

  “For very different reasons,” Cruces insisted, stopping long enough to take both of Scarlett’s hands. “I put my mark on you because I would not want anything to happen to you.”

  “And why would you care if anything happened to me?” Scarlett demanded. “You barely know me.”

  “Well,” Cruces said lightly, “Holmes is a friend, and I should hate to earn his enmity. Besides, you are a most intriguing young woman. Who would I annoy if you were not around?”

  Scarlett rolled her eyes. “I have a feeling that you would find someone.”

  “Oh, undoubtedly, but no one who could look so beautiful when annoyed.” Cruces expression changed a fraction. “You are the daughter of famed archaeologists Thomas and Gemma Seely… believe me, you are a little more known than you think. Please, come with me to my home. It is as close as your own, and I would like you to see it. Besides, we should discuss the case.”

  Scarlett could not argue with that. Cruces was her client, after all. So she went along with him as he led the way up into Piccadilly, near to the palace and probably the most exclusive area of the city. Merely having money was not enough to obtain a house there under most circumstances. It was also necessary to know the right caliber of people, and for them to smooth the way. Cruces was obviously even wealthier than he looked.

  One curiosity of Piccadilly was that the houses there did not reflect great wealth from the outside. They were not mansions, and they generally did not stand within grounds. London had too little space for that, even when it came to the very wealthy. The houses there reserved their wealth for their interiors, and expressed their status in their proximity to the queen’s residence. Cruces’ home was close.

  It was a townhouse in the style of all the others, with three floors making up for the lack of horizontal space. As Cruces showed Scarlett inside, Scarlett could not help noticing small statuettes, apparently made from bronze and brass, in the shape of birds, small animals, and stranger creatures. As they approached, one or two of them seemed to move, their heads turning to follow Scarlett’s motions.

  “Automata,” Cruces explained. “Mere toys compared to some of my other experiments, but useful nonetheless.”

  “You are a man of science?” Scarlett asked. She found that slightly hard to believe. Cruces did not strike her as serious enough to undertake real research. Yet compared with everything else about him, it would not be so very impossible.

  “Yes, would you like to see?” Cruces led the way through to what might originally have been a billiard room, though it now seemed to serve more as a laboratory or work room. An array of glass beakers occupied a workbench at one side, while books sat on shelves nearby. A microscope occupied a small bench, along with tools that looked almost like those of the jeweler’s art. There were pieces of brass cut out in neat shapes there, forming the half-finished structure of a mechanical bird. Towards the ceiling of the room, there were what appeared to be small balloons, with what appeared to be designs for carriages or larger baskets beneath them.

  “In just a year or two,” Cruces explained, “I expect significant improvements to be made in the realm of lighter than air vehicles. Why, I would not be surprised if they came to replace the coach and horses as the dominant mode of long distance transportation.”

  “That seems a little far-fetched,” Scarlett suggested.

  “Really? But it is simply a question of finding the right gas with which to work. We live in an age of unparalleled wonders, Miss Seely, where anything is possible.”

  “And you are such an expert on hot air anyway.”

  Cruces laughed at that. “There. Most young women would not have dared to make that comment for fear of offending me. You are a wonder yourself, Miss Seely. Please, look around my work, and I will prepare tea. Then, if you are hungry, we will breakfast.”

  Scarlett raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were not a man for tea.”

  “I do not drink it much these days,” Cruces admitted, “but I know enough about it to make a decent cup. I even used to own a tea plantation or two out in the East Indies and Malaya.”

  Cruces bustled off into another room, while Scarlett busied herself looking at his various books. Who was this fascinating young man? He used to own a tea plantation or two, had his own residence, paint, made scientific inventions, and collected artifacts. Yet he looked barely a few years older than her.

  There walls of books covering all the usual sciences, plus there seemed to be a few volumes that were written by hand, in a mixture of languages. They seemed to record experiments, with detailed drawings of devices that seemed impressive in their complexity. There were designs for automata intended to help around the home, for something that appeared to be some kind of counting machine, and which had the note ‘improvement on Babbage’s design?’ beside it, and even for a kind of spherical diving bell with small clock
work engines to allow it to maneuver beneath the waves.

  “Would this work?” Scarlett asked as Cruces came back with the tea.

  “Undoubtedly, with the right materials. The design would spread the pressure of the water evenly, so it is merely a question of coming up with a sufficiently strong yet clear substance. I have tried a few things. And now you must try your tea.”

  Scarlett did. It was better than she had imagined it would be. It was warm, strong, and smooth…the flavor evenly dispersed. “You said that we would talk about the case,” she said after she had sipped it. “Or was that simply a ruse to get me here?”

  “Not at all,” Cruces said. “From what you said back in the station, you found both Cecilia and the ring immediately before the Order acted.”

  Scarlett nodded. “I did. I also listened to what Cecilia had to say on the subject. You know that she considers you to be a thief?”

  “I am meant to be a thief?” Cruces asked incredulously, but his expression grew thoughtful. “Yes, it is possible that she would believe that.”

  “She said that the ring was rightfully the property of Romanian royalty, and that merely buying it for a collection did not make it yours.”

  Cruces laughed. “I suspect that the city’s auction houses would argue with that view. In any case, it is rightfully mine.”

  “Really, you are Romanian?” Scarlett looked at him closely.

  “That is perhaps not a helpful term. The country is a young one, after all. Barely ten years old.”

  “But you are from that region?” Scarlett pressed.

  Cruces cocked his head to one side. “I notice that you do not question whether I am royalty or not.”

  It was Scarlett’s turn to laugh. “Ah, but you have to be. It explains so much about you. Your insufferable arrogance for one thing.”

  Cruces sat there and sipped his tea for a moment, then put it down abruptly. “There are more things I should show you,” he said. “Will you come with me?”