Supernatural Devices (A Steampunk Scarlett Novel: Book 1)

by Kailin Gow

  Cruces looked up as Scarlett approached. “Ah, you have found us. Were the young men so very tiresome?”

  He asked that with a smirk, obviously knowing the answer.

  “And you just happened to find them?” Scarlett asked.

  Cruces shrugged. “I came looking for you at your home. I simply happened to run into Gordon and Tavian here along the way.”

  Of course he had. And his route to her home had just happened to involve this drinking establishment. Or had the two other young men simply been arguing loudly enough to be impossible to miss by that point?

  “Has Tavian told you his thoughts on Cecilia?” Scarlett asked, taking the remaining seat at the table.

  Cruces looked from Scarlett to Tavian, then back again. “What thoughts would those be? Does our gypsy friend know more about his sister than we do?”

  Scarlett looked over at Tavian, and Tavian nodded. “He told me that Cecilia was probably working for someone else even before she took the ring. That she probably took it for the Order.”

  “Well,” Cruces said, “we already suspected that, didn’t we? Or at least, we knew that they would want it.”

  “But doesn’t this mean that Cecilia is safer than she would otherwise be?” Scarlett argued. “I cannot imagine that the Order would harm one of their own.”

  “Can you not?” Cruces asked. His expression grew serious. “Then I would suggest that for all you know of the world, Miss Seely, you still do not know enough about evil.”

  “And you do, of course,” Tavian observed.

  Cruces fixed him with a stare for a moment or two. “More than I would like to. I see it in the mirror each morning, for one thing.”

  “And there I was, thinking that your kind did not favor mirrors.”

  Cruces ignored that, returning his attention to Scarlett. “The truth is that some of those in the Order might kill Cecilia simply because they have no more use for her. And if she were ever to do otherwise than they had planned, they would certainly harm her. They do not tolerate those who betray them, to any degree.”

  Scarlett thought about Cecilia keeping hold of the ring for so long after it went missing. About her willingness to talk to Scarlett. Would those count as betrayals? Certainly, the way Cecilia had been taken suggested that whoever had employed her was not happy with her. A thought came to Scarlett.

  “Was Cecilia marked, the way I am?”

  Cruces spread his hands. “I would not know. I never got close enough to examine her, no matter what Cecilia may have wanted.”

  “Careful,” Tavian warned.

  Cruces laughed. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to start being careful after all these years. But you have reminded me, Scarlett. Part of the reason I came looking for you was that something felt strange. May I?”

  He reached out to take Scarlett’s hand, turning it gently so that the inside of her wrist was visible to all four of them. Cruces’ mark should have been there, a clear impression against the paleness of her flesh, but it was gone. Just gone, as if it had never been there.

  “How is that possible?” Scarlett asked. The mark had not been painted on. It had been real, and solid, and apparently permanent.

  Cruces did not answer immediately. Instead, he stood, lifting Scarlett’s hair with a light, sensual touch. His finger traced over the back of her neck, sending a brief shiver of pleasure down Scarlett’s spine where it contacted with her skin. She wondered if Cruces knew his touch had that effect, and then smiled to herself. Of course he did.

  Cruces was not smiling a moment later, however, when he sat back down next to her.

  “My mark is gone, but the mark of the Order… there is a new circle of dark ink around it. A reinforcement.”

  “What does that mean?” Scarlett asked.

  “That they have laid an even stronger claim on you. Where were you just now, when I felt the change?”

  “You felt it when I was away from Gordon and Tavian?” Scarlett asked. “Then it must have happened when I was in the jeweler’s. Well, it was more of a curiosity shop, really.”

  Cruces’ brow furrowed. “Where was this?”

  “Just a little way away,” Scarlett explained. “You must have passed it on the way.”

  Cruces appeared, if anything, even more puzzled. “I do not recall seeing such a place.”

  “Truly?” Scarlett tried to describe it as best she could. “It was only a small place, but I noticed it easily enough. Some of the items on display were very impressive. And I recall thinking of you at the time, because it was actually run by a vampire.”

  “And you did not think that odd?” Gordon added from the side.

  “Gordon, it is me. You know the things I see.”

  Cruces was silent for several seconds. “Tell me about the vampire,” he said at last, in a tone that did not leave much room for argument.

  “Well,” Scarlett began, “he gave his name as Rothschild…”

  “Rothschild!” Cruces swore, and stood so sharply that he nearly knocked over the table. “Of course it would be him. Who else? And of course he could do it. His talent has always been to get any woman he wants to desire him instantly.”

  Scarlett did not like that Cruces took it for granted that she had been attracted to the other vampire. He made it sound like she was some common girl with no sense of propriety. Of course, there wasn’t much point in arguing, given that she had been every bit as attracted as Cruces implied, but still…

  “So he was the one who removed my mark,” Cruces said, looking furious.

  “And who augmented the Order’s mark,” Scarlett reminded him. “Which means he must have something to do with them. This is about more than just your mark on me.”

  Cruces looked like he was having to work hard not to say something at that point.

  “So what would he want with me?” Scarlett asked.

  “Beyond the obvious?” Cruces demanded, making Scarlett raise an eyebrow delicately. “Rothschild is dangerous. He is the head of a group of vampires I suspect of being some of the worst criminals in the city.”

  “Which makes it logical that they would be bound up with the Order,” Tavian interjected.

  “Exactly,” Cruces said.

  Scarlett shook her head. “That still does not explain the business with the marks. Why should this Rothschild want to mark me? And what is this business of augmenting the Order’s mark?”

  “That makes the mark stronger,” Cruces said. “Harder to remove. In this case, it also makes the mark personal. It is not just the mark of the Order, but a direct connection to Rothschild. It is his way of saying that whatever connection the Order has to you, it must go through him.”

  “And why would he do that?” Scarlett demanded. “Why would he care about following me?”

  Cruces looked away for a moment. “It might just be to insult me,” he said. “A statement to go along with the removal of my mark. Alternatively, it might be that Rothschild has an interest in the ring, and wants to lay enough of a claim to you that he is the first to learn about it.”

  “Or it could just be that he desires her,” Tavian added, with a pointed look at Cruces, “and wants to make a claim upon her. That is what vampires do, after all.”

  “What would you know of it?” Cruces demanded.

  Tavian looked at Scarlett. “More than enough. Tell me, Lord Darthmoor, does it bother you more that Scarlett here is in danger from one of the most powerful vampires in any of the surrounding counties, or that she no longer bears your mark?”

  Cruces looked like he might lash out at the gypsy man then, but Scarlett stood, putting herself in the way. She placed a hand lightly on Cruces’ chest, her fingers spread.

  “Is that what vampire marks are?” Scarlett asked him, looking into his eyes. “Are they a way to mark… territory, for want of a better word?”

  “That is one way to put it,” Cruces admitted. “The signs are meant to keep those claimed by one vampire safe from others. What Rothschild did to you, what
the Order did to you, it is an insult of the highest order.”

  “And when would you put a mark on someone?” Scarlett asked softly. “I take it that you did not mark Cecilia, yet she was your servant.”

  Cruces shook his head. “That is not what the mark is. It is not some nobleman’s coat of arms, to be given out freely. It is used only with those closest to us; friends, confidantes. Potential lovers.” There was a trace of his old smile as he said that.

  “And which of those categories do you see me in?” Scarlett demanded in her primmest tone.

  Cruces answered her simply, by kissing her. Scarlett had not been prepared for that. Men did not kiss women out in public like this. They simply did not. Except that Cruces did. He kissed her with an initial wave of fierce passion, which became something more gentle as Scarlett kissed him back. She knew that she should not, but she did. She kissed him back for long seconds, her lips moving on Cruces’, her eyes drifting closed to feel the pleasure of it better. Cruces made no move to hold her to him though. It was as though he wanted to be clear that Scarlett was doing this as much as he was. It was Cruces’ way of telling Scarlett, she was very much part of wanting this kiss as he was. Scarlett finally pulled back.

  “I hope that provides your answer,” Cruces said.

  “You had no right to do that,” Scarlett replied, though she did it softly.

  “And yet you did not pull back sooner.”

  Well no. It had been a good kiss. A very good kiss. But then, what had Scarlett expected from someone like Cruces? “If that is what having your mark means,” Scarlett managed to say, “I am almost glad I no longer have it.”

  Cruces snorted. “Liar.”

  Scarlett flushed slightly as she looked away.

  “I have to go,” Cruces declared then.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Only to find Rothschild. You don’t think I’m going to let him leave his mark on you now, do you?”

  Chapter 15

  Cruces hurried off, leaving Scarlett alone with Gordon and Tavian. She sat down heavily, aware that she had just kissed another young man in front of them, not to mention in front of all the other patrons of the establishment. It was the kind of thing that would no doubt scandalize her parents should news of it get back to them.

  For now though, there was the question of where Cruces had gone to consider. Scarlett was glad of the space with the confusing mess of emotions that the kiss had brought up still swirling through her. Still, Scarlett hoped that he would not do anything foolish, even though he remained an impossible man in every way. She did not think that Cruces was the type to go out and confront Rothschild directly, but she could not be certain. She just had to hope that all would be well.

  “Are you all right?” Gordon asked.

  Scarlett nodded.

  “I cannot believe that Lord Darthmoor would take a liberty like that with you,” he said. “Why, I have a good mind to…”

  “Not that good a mind,” Tavian added from the side, “if you think that Scarlett here had any difficulty with it.”

  “Take that back at once,” Gordon insisted. “You are impugning the honor of a fine young woman of far better breeding than yourself, and…”

  “And my point stands,” Tavian said. “Or can you not tell when a woman is kissing a man back?”

  Gordon stood, and Scarlett got the feeling that he was getting ready to fight. Scarlett shook her head.

  “Gordon, if you are going to be like this, perhaps it is better if you leave for now.”

  “Leave? You want me to leave you alone with this…”

  “Please, Gordon. I think we are all a little overwrought at the moment, don’t you?”

  “I am not overwrought.” Gordon put his hands down on the table. The knuckles were white. “But I am meant to be here to protect you.”

  Scarlett shook her head. “You cannot protect me constantly, Gordon, and I do not need you to. You should go back to the house and take a rest. We will undoubtedly have more to do later.”

  “But you will not be coming too?” Gordon asked. His eyes flicked over to Tavian, and their expression was not friendly. It seemed that the presence of Cruces had been the only thing keeping that unfriendliness at bay. How was it that the presence of such an arrogant, insufferable man could do that, even if he was quite gloriously handsome? Scarlett replayed that thought to herself, and shook her head.

  “No, Gordon, I will not be coming. I appreciate your presence in London, but I do not need you at my side every hour of the day.”

  “That is not what your parents seemed to think when they wired for me to return here,” Gordon pointed out. “How would I answer them if something were to happen to you while I was elsewhere? They would blame me, Scarlett, and they would be right.”

  “No,” Scarlett insisted, reaching out to touch the nearest of his hands, just lightly. “They would not be right in doing that. More than that, nothing is going to happen to me. It might happen to you though, Gordon.”

  “I think I can protect myself,” Gordon said.

  Scarlett nodded. “Ordinarily. Against the supernatural, though? You cannot see it, Gordon. You cannot fight it. Not the way Cruces can. Not even the way Tavian here can. I would hate for anything to happen to you simply because you were trying to protect me.”

  “How does that make you any safer?” Gordon argued.

  “I have both Cruces and Tavian trying to keep me safe,” Scarlett countered. “In any case, I have to do this. I still have to demonstrate to Holmes that I am capable of dealing with this case, and if that means danger, then so be it. I really do think that you should go back to the house though.”

  Gordon looked like he wanted to argue, but he did not. “I know how important this is to you,” he said, “and you know where I will be if you need my help.”

  He left, leaving Scarlett alone with Tavian. Scarlett sat there with the young gypsy man in silence for almost a minute before she spoke.

  “If we are to find Cecilia, there are more things I should know about you, her, and your people.”

  Tavian spread his hands. “Anything you wish to know, I will tell. I don’t have any secrets.”

  “Even though I am Gadjo?” Scarlett asked. She tried to recall the little that she had read of gypsy troupes.

  “Ah, well, there are outsiders and outsiders.”

  “Are there? Would the elders of your family agree with that?”

  Tavian smiled. “That is between me and them. In any case, Cecilia and I are hardly typical Roma.”

  Scarlett nodded, that was easy to believe. “I take it that the ability to ride the mist and change your shape aren’t typical either?”

  Tavian laughed at that. “Did you think they were?”

  “It’s hard to know what to think, when it comes to gypsies,” Scarlett said. “I know that most of what people write is wrong, but I also know they have more of a connection to the supernatural than most.”

  “That’s just what comes from living on the edges of things,” Tavian replied. “We cannot ignore the truth of what is around us, because we cannot surround ourselves with cities. We cannot blind ourselves to what is really there.”

  “Do you think I do that?” Scarlett asked.

  Tavian thought for a moment, and then shook his head. “No, I do not.”

  “So you’ll forgive me if I do not let you dodge the question of whether you and Cecilia are special quite as easily as that?”

  That got another smile from the young gypsy man. “Yes, I think I can forgive that. And yes, both Cecilia and I are different, even among the Roma. A few people there might have minor talents, but the things we can do are different. Tell me, is it just my sister and I you are interested in, Miss Seely, or the whole of my people?”

  Scarlett thought. Obviously, she wanted to know as much as possible about Tavian and Cecilia to help with the business of the ring, but truthfully, she wanted to know as much as possible about all his people. She would not have been
her parents’ daughter had she felt otherwise. After all, how many times had they taken her to parts of the world that seemed impossibly exotic, and taught Scarlett about peoples there who were very different from anything she could have imagined?

  “I think that I would like to know whatever you are willing to tell me,” Scarlett said at last.

  Tavian drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Well, that is potentially a lot, but I do not think we should go through it all now.”

  “No?” Scarlett could not keep the disappointment out of her voice.

  “Well, we have nothing to do but wait for now when it comes to the case, so why not join me over at the camp tonight for dinner?” Tavian suggested. “I will tell you anything you want to know then.”

  “You want me to have dinner with you?” Scarlett asked. “You did just see me kiss Cruces, right?”

  “I saw you kissed by him and swept up in the moment. I see you on the edge of feeling something for the arrogant little lord. I would like to see you for dinner tonight, so that you know that you have more than one choice here.”

  “You sound very certain that I am attracted to you,” Scarlett said.

  Tavian looked at her from under that wonderfully dark, flowing hair. “Tell me that I am wrong.”

  “You are very direct today,” Scarlett pointed out, trying to find time in which to think. “When we first met, you didn’t even speak.”

  “You seem to prefer directness. Please, agree to come to the camp. You will not regret it, and you will get your answers.”

  Scarlett bit her lip. She knew that she probably should not, but she had been there before, after all, and she also remembered reading somewhere that, no matter what people in towns might sometimes think, the Romany took the virtue of young women very seriously indeed. Dinner would just be dinner unless Scarlett said otherwise.

  “Won’t you give me at least some answers now?” Scarlett asked.

  Tavian licked his lips. “I will trade you,” he said. “An answer for an answer. You ask your question, but I get to ask one of you in return.”