Supernatural Devices (A Steampunk Scarlett Novel: Book 1)

by Kailin Gow

  “So,” Tavian asked. “What now? How do we find Rothschild in this? We cannot just ask around. People in places like this don’t tell tales.”

  Scarlett considered pointing out some of the less than pleasant things people sometimes thought about gypsies, and that Tavian should know better than to label a whole neighborhood like that. At that moment, however, the back of Scarlett’s neck began to burn so painfully that she cried out.

  “Scarlett, what is it?” Tavian hurried to help her, looking down at her neck. “Your mark, it’s glowing.”

  Come to me, Scarlett. As before, the words sounded in Scarlett’s head. Come to me, and come alone. The necklace will show you the way. Bring anyone, and the hostage I have will die. Fail to come, and they die. Hurry.

  “Scarlett?” Tavian asked, putting an arm around Scarlett to support her.

  “It’s Rothschild,” Scarlett said, “and it seems Cecilia definitely is his hostage. He wants me to come to find him. He says that if I do not go alone, he will kill your sister.”

  Tavian’s eyes widened at that threat, but he shook his head. “No, he is lying. It is far too dangerous for you to go alone. I should go with you, out of sight, and…”

  “Do you think anything is out of sight in a place like this?” Scarlett demanded, looking around. There were so many spots where watchers could be hidden. We cannot risk Cecilia like that. Your role in this is to fetch reinforcements. Now that we know where Rothschild is, you must fetch Holmes, Cruces, Gordon, and anyone else who can help.”

  “But I do not know exactly where Rothschild is,” Tavian argued, “which means that I will not know where you are.”

  “You know where to start looking,” Scarlett replied. “Please, Tavian, this is the only way it can work.”

  Tavian stood very still for a few seconds, then he kissed Scarlett briefly but furiously. “Be careful," he whispered into her ear. Before Scarlett could even respond, he pulled back and ran off down one of the adjoining roads. Scarlett watched him go, but not for long, because the pendant around her neck started to move. It swung up, tugging at Scarlett, obviously trying to pull her along behind it like a dog with a scent straining to pull its owner along on the end of a leash.

  Scarlett went along with that pull, letting it guide her. Letting it lead her, in fact, much of the way along Whitechapel Road before it pulled to the side quite sharply, directing Scarlett down a small side street. There, on that street, she saw what she knew had to be Rothschild’s home.

  It was a curiosity shop set into a larger block of homes that arced crazily over the street, looking like it might fall down at any moment. There were items of jewelry in the window, just as there had been before, though here they were joined by other things apparently taken from a hundred different places. Clocks and cabinets, stuffed dead animals and small pieces of art all stacked haphazardly, under the apparently not very watchful eye of a middle aged man. Scarlett ignored him.

  She did that mostly because the pendant was pulling her past the clutter of the shop to a door at the back. Scarlett opened it without any complaints from the proprietor, to see a set of stairs leading upwards. At another tug from the pendant, she began to climb. At the top of the stairs…

  Scarlett would never have imagined such a pleasantly furnished set of lodgings anywhere in Whitechapel. They put Holmes’ rooms on Baker Street to shame, being filled with furniture that seemed to span the centuries in an eclectic mix that took in works in the French and Italian styles along with other, more exotic things. There was a fireplace of solid marble at one side, while comfortable looking chairs marked out a semi-circle around a table that seemed almost Roman in its design. Doors leading off from the room suggested more rooms beyond, but even this one was large enough that Scarlett knew that Rothschild had to have converted the whole block to create this place.

  Scarlett took a step into the room, staring at it, and in the space of the second it took to look around once more, she was no longer alone there. Rothschild was beside her, too close to her, tucking a loose strand of Scarlett’s hair back behind her ear.

  “Ah, you did what I asked. Scarlett, perfect Scarlett. You are exquisite. Your scent, your beauty. But most of all… most of all, your gift.”

  Chapter 18

  “My gift?” Scarlett tried not to shudder at the thought of Rothschild so close to her. “How do you know about my gift?”

  “I know a great deal about your gifts,” Rothschild said, moving in front of her. “So many talents. For seeing the supernatural, obviously, and for other things. Will you come and sit down?”

  He led the way to the armchairs, and Scarlett took one of them. She did not know what else to do.

  “Are my gifts why you marked me?” she asked.

  “Partly,” Rothschild admitted, taking the seat across from her. “Of course, it helps that you are exquisite, and that you are able to bridge the gap between the human and the supernatural.” He steepled his fingers. “Strange, is it not, that we beyond the human world prize a place in it so highly? Perhaps it is because we are treated as outsiders there so much, when all we do is what nature intended for us. Tea, Miss Seely?”

  Without waiting for an answer, Rothschild rose and poured tea from a pot sitting off to one side. He handed the cup to Scarlett. The tea was as excellent as Cruces’ had been. Did all vampires make it so well?

  “Thank you,” Scarlett said.

  “I find it pays to be civil,” Rothschild replied. “Take marking you, for example. I have done you a considerable favor there, of course. Since you are marked as mine, no other vampire will claim you or mark you.”

  “It did not stop you,” Scarlett pointed out.

  “Explain.”

  “Lord Darthmoor had marked me before you.”

  “I neither saw nor felt a mark,” Rothschild said, and he sounded intrigued.

  “And a vampire attacked me before I came to the shop you set up.”

  “So presumably, he did not feel it either.”

  Scarlett looked at Rothschild carefully. “That, or he simply had so few manners that he ignored Cruces’ mark anyway. But no vampire would do that, would they?”

  Rothschild raised an exquisite eyebrow. “Cruces and not Lord Darthmoor. My, you must be close. How close, Miss Seely?”

  Scarlett placed her teacup carefully to one side. “He hired me to retrieve his ring. I imagine you know all about that, though.”

  Rothschild smiled wickedly. “Obviously.” He moved closer to Scarlett then, taking her hands in his and drawing her up to her feet. “Forget Darthmoor. You want me, not him. And you do want me, Scarlett, don’t you?”

  Rothschild’s lips brushed Scarlett’s forehead. They made their way down gently, alighting on her eyelids, her nose, her lips. It felt so good. Even though Scarlett knew it was just some form of vampire trick, it felt so very good, so sensual that she almost forgot it was Rothschild she was kissing. No doubt he was putting her under his spell.

  “Unhand her!”

  That was one voice she had not expected to hear there. “Gordon?”

  Scarlett turned, and Gordon was indeed there. His face was red with anger. “Unhand that slut, Rothschild! How dare you kiss her?”

  Scarlett blinked in incomprehension. Gordon had never spoken about her like that before. For his part, Rothschild moved over to Gordon, putting his hands on Gordon’s arms. “Stop being so rash.”

  “Rash? You were meant to capture her, not kiss her.”

  “Gordon?” Scarlett repeated.

  Gordon laughed then, and as he laughed, his voice changed, rising in pitch. “So the prim princess is not as clever as she thought.” Gordon’s form shimmered, changing until it was that of a young woman in layers of silk. Cecilia. “You don’t have any talents. You can’t even see through a simple glamour.”

  Scarlett stared at her. “Where is Gordon?” she asked. “You must have seen him, or you would not have been able to copy him that well.”

  Rothschild moved to t
ake Scarlett’s arm, guiding her back towards the armchair. “Have a seat, sweet Scarlett.”

  Cecilia glared at Rothschild. “Don’t you ‘sweet Scarlett’ her.”

  Scarlett understood then. “You two are an item? Cecilia, you have had your brother, not to mention the whole of your community, worried about you. I’ve been looking all over London for you. And you still haven’t explained about Gordon.”

  Cecilia shrugged. “Gordon and I met a week ago at the marketplace. He was buying fresh flowers for your townhouse, preparing it for your arrival. He even asked me if I would be willing to clean it, since the regular servants were in the country. He was rather sweet, letting me look around a house full of your parents’ papers and devices like that.”

  “So what happened to him?” Scarlett demanded.

  “Oh, he wouldn’t stop talking about you. About how wonderful you were. About how much he longed to see you again. I’m sure you can guess the kind of thing that a young man in love would come out with. So many stories about you that I used to help me glamour into a convincing Gordon.”

  Scarlett had to smile then, despite her predicament. Gordon liked her in that way? Scarlett would not have guessed it. But then, it seemed that there was a lot she had not guessed over the last few days.

  How long have you been playing the part of him?” she demanded.

  Cecilia laughed again. “Since you first saw him back at the house. Oh, I almost skewered Cruces, and he didn’t even suspect it was me. I would never have thought I could hold a glamour so long, though.”

  “That will be your fey blood,” Scarlett pointed out.

  “You think I don’t know that?” Cecilia snapped back. “I’ve known that most of my life, and do you know, Rothschild is the first person other than my brother who has ever accepted it. The first person who has ever made me feel… loved.”

  Well, that at least made Cecilia’s motives in taking the ring clear. She was one of the Order, or at least worked for them. And all because she loved Rothschild. Rothschild, who had only just been kissing Scarlett. She was not an innocent victim in this. Not by a long way.

  “Where are Gordon and the ring?” Scarlett repeated.

  “You really think I’m going to tell you that?” Cecilia countered with a contemptuous look.

  “No, but I had to give you the chance,” Scarlett said. She leapt at Cecilia, slipping behind her even as she drew her dagger, placing the point of it to the other girl’s throat. “Now, either you or Rothschild is going to tell me how to find Gordon and the ring. If you don’t, then I use this dagger.”

  Scarlett could feel Cecilia tense with fear. Rothschild, however, merely smiled. “Go ahead,” he said. “She is of no further use. Killing her will actually remove a problem from my life.”

  “Problem?” Cecilia wailed. “I’m a problem to you?”

  “You thought I actually loved you, Cecilia?” Rothschild shook his head. “No man wants such a clingy woman, even if she is a pretty little thing. You were a means to an end. My eyes have always been on Scarlett here.”

  “That can’t be true,” Scarlett said. “I only found out of you because of the ring.”

  “Why do you think I arranged for such an obvious path back to me after its theft?” Rothschild asked. “Why do you think I had it stolen here and now? I even saw to it that an enchantment was placed on you that first night, so that Lord Darthmoor’s mark would not take permanently.”

  “So you felt no mark because you arranged for there to be no mark?” Scarlett asked.

  “Exactly.”

  “Why?” Scarlett demanded.

  Rothschild smiled. “All for this. All to get you standing on my carpet here and now, with my mark upon you. You are very interesting, you know. The Order has marked you, and yet they have not killed you. They have not infected you. They know how special you are too. It is why I had to make a personal claim to you.”

  “Why?” Scarlett repeated.

  “I told you before,” Rothschild repeated. “Your gifts. All your gifts. After all, you have travelled the world with your parents, finding the items we call simply Devices. Items of power.”

  Scarlett kept the point of the dagger against Cecilia’s skin. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “How did your parents find so many of their artifacts?” Rothschild asked. “You found them for them, didn’t you?”

  Scarlett wanted to shake her head, but there was a lot of truth to it. Often, she would suggest spots in which to dig to her parents, and there would be things of value beneath. Her parents had told her stories of how she would wander around dig sites as a small child saying “Spoon!” or “Mask!” and there those things would be.

  Scarlett was still thinking about that when Rothschild moved, wresting the dagger from her easily and tossing it casually away into the fire grate.

  “There, that is much more civilized. We need your talent, Scarlett. We need you to find the Devices for us.”

  “And the ring is one of them?” Scarlett guessed. It was hardly much of a leap.

  Rothschild did not answer then. Instead, one of the doors connecting to the apartment opened, revealing a freakishly tall figure in black. He had to be nearly seven feet tall, and was painfully thin, as well as being completely bald. His eyes were entirely red. Cecilia knew without being told that he was another vampire, but there was nothing beautiful about him. He was simply powerful, and terrifying.

  Rothschild bowed. “Welcome, Elder.”

  The new vampire ignored him. “Yes,” he said instead, “the ring is the first. It will open the door, and the Order will enter to destroy what lies beyond.” His smile was not pleasant.

  “Dastardly!” Scarlett exclaimed. “Of course you wouldn’t be using the ring for good, but only for evil.” Scarlett knew vampires grew stronger with age, and the most powerful ones were the oldest. Elder must be very strong, if he was named ‘Elder’.

  Having picked up on Scarlett’s thoughts, Rothschild said, “He is one of the most ancient of all of us.”

  Elder just looked at her. “Come here, child.”

  Scarlett went. There was no fighting it. She walked over to him and knelt, staring up at him in awe even as she hated herself for doing it.

  “Rothschild has been lax. I will not be. Will you join us, girl? Will you join the Order?”

  Scarlett clamped her mouth shut to keep from speaking. It was all she could do. However how hard she tried, though, the mark on her neck burned hot enough that she could barely keep from crying out, but she knew that if she did that, she would say yes. Unless there was something else she could shout?

  “Cruces! Tavian!”

  Elder smiled again. “Ah, Cruces. He should be here for this. He used to be ours, you know.”

  The pressure on Scarlett relaxed momentarily, so she took the opportunity to ask it. “He was with the Order?”

  Rothschild continued. “Cruces practically is the Order. He is almost the oldest of us. Older than me. Older even than Elder. The ring was forged soon after he became one of us. His line is ancient and powerful. His father is the father of so many of us, and began the war against the fey.”

  Scarlett’s heart sank at that. Cruces was one of the Order? Had he really been playing a game like that with her all this time? With Holmes? There was no time to think about it, because in that moment, Elder was biting into his own wrist. Blood such a deep red it was almost black bubbled to the surface. Elder pressed his wrist to her mouth.

  Scarlett kept her mouth tightly shut. She knew what ingesting a vampire’s blood might do to her, and she had no wish to be one of them. Except that, sooner or later, she would give in.

  “Let her go!”

  Scarlett almost sighed with relief at that. The one voice she had been hoping for. Tavian.

  Chapter 19

  Still kneeling, Scarlett half-turned and Tavian was there. He held a long wooden spear, worked with sigils that seemed to flow into one another in knots and spirals. He heft
ed it, and then threw the spear at Elder like a javelin. The spear hit the vampire, but seemed to pass right through him, flashing a brilliant blue as it did so. The same blueness seemed to surround Elder, and he was still, apparently frozen in place.

  “That was a fey spear,” Rothschild remarked, clearly amazed that Tavian should possess such a thing.

  Cecilia seemed almost as surprised, staring at her brother. “You made it through the barrier between worlds? You retrieved a spear?”

  “No.” That voice was as familiar as Tavian’s. Cruces was there, stepping through the door behind the gypsy man. “I just happen to have one hidden away where a thief like you cannot get to it.” He pointed at Cecilia. “You will owe me an explanation, Cecilia. But that can wait, given how briefly the effects of the spear last.”

  Cruces was over to Scarlett in less time than it took to blink, his hands cool on her arms as he helped her up. He held her tightly, squeezing her hands, his worry over her obvious. Even so, Scarlett knew what she had to ask.

  “They said you were part of them. That you were with the Order.”

  Cruces hesitated briefly, but nodded. “A long time ago, yes. I know better now.” He looked over to where Rothschild stood. “I wish I could say the same for you, old friend.”

  “Friend?” Rothschild said it lightly, but Scarlett could feel the anger there. “You are touching my property, Cruces. I have marked the girl fairly. She is mine.”

  “Marked her, certainly,” Cruces said. “But fairly? In any case, you clearly do not care about stealing what is another’s. I would like my ring back now, Rothschild.”

  Rothschild laughed softly. “Take it if you think you can.”

  Cruces nodded, lifting Scarlett’s hand to his lips, kissing it before gently pushing her towards Tavian. “Scarlett, go to Tavian, he will keep you safe in what is to come.”