She crept to the edge and peered around. A large figure cloaked in a tattered blanket hunched over a dog lying on its side in a puddle. The animal was panting hard, its eyes closed, and every other labored breath came forth with that heart-wrenching whine.
Was the person trying to help the dog? Perhaps she should leave him to it. The whine came again, a twisting dagger in her chest.
She entered the alley and took a few steps toward the figure. “Can I help you, Mister?” When the figure didn’t respond, she took several more steps. Perhaps he hadn’t heard her. “Is everything all right? Do you need help?”
The figure stood and turned, throwing off the sopping tattered blanket he’d been wearing. He was tall and bulky as a draft horse. The gas lamp at the corner gave enough light that she could see his forearm was some kind of metal prosthesis that attached at the elbow where the metal appeared to fuse with the skin. The metal hand had large crude but functional fingers. From a distance in the dark, that arm might look like it had a cast.
Her heart started to race as Em’s description of the rooftop shooter came back to her. She looked at his face. He had a patch over one eye with a long deep scar running down that cheek. Em hadn’t mentioned that part.
Another whine drew her gaze back to the dog. Now that the man wasn’t obscuring her view, she saw that the animal’s hind legs were broken, shattered bone tearing through the skin. The puddle was red with blood. A tattered, warped slouch hat, the one he’d been wearing when Em saw him, lay next to the dog, blood soaking into the brim on the near side. She swallowed a rush of bile and stared up at the towering man in slack-jawed shock.
Water dripped from her lashes, obscuring her vision. She blinked it away. Her body vibrated with a swelling of terror. “Did… did you do that?”
He smiled. A gold tooth gleamed in the light from the corner. Several more were missing or perhaps blackened with rot. “Followed ye ‘ere t’other day from that tower. Boss said ye’ were like t’ come back.” He nodded to the dog. “Thought I’d amuse meself a bit. Gets a sight dull round ‘ere.”
Run. Her knees felt weak. She shook her head, unable to look away from that one bloodshot eye leering at her. She was going to be sick. “But why? What do you want with me?”
His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “They’re payin’ me to git rid of ye, not t’ ask questions.”
Run now. Maeko listened to the voice in her head this time. She spun around, making it a few strides before something hard struck her across the back, sending her sprawling in the wet street. The carrier flew from her hands. Grit ground into her palms when she tried to catch herself, but the force of the strike was enough that her chin hit the ground and her teeth bit into her tongue. Macak yowled, his crate hit the ground and tumbled several feet before coming to a rest upside down against the building. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. She struggled to get her hands and feet under her, the muscles in her upper back locked in spasm from the blow. Her stomach heaved, evacuating her scant dinner into the wet street.
A presence loomed over her, more felt than seen, like a wave crashing down. The cold metal hand closed on the back of her neck and he lifted her until her feet dangled in the air. Lights flashed behind her eyes with the pressure of his grip, the mechanical hand far stronger than any normal hand should be. The satchel slid off her shoulder and splatted in a puddle.
She tried to kick back at him, but his other arm blocked her. He grabbed her ankles with that hand and held them fast. She was little bigger than a child next to him. It wasn’t fair, but life never was. Her mind raced for some way out. Pain began to cloud her thoughts. She tried to speak and choked on blood. She spit and tried again.
“Why me?” she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain of his grip.
He didn’t answer. Had he even heard her? With blood pounding in her ears, would she hear him if he did answer?
She tried to scream, but her voice wouldn’t come now. The mechanical hand tightened. She clawed at impervious metal with fingers that were going numb. Tears ran from her eyes now. She couldn’t stop them streaming down her cheeks along with rivulets of rain.
Em, I’ve found your rooftop shooter.
A loud crack rang out. Something warm spattered the back of her head. The big man sank to his knees and her toes touched ground. The hand didn’t loosen. He toppled sideways then, dragging her to the street with him. Someone crouched behind her, fingers going to work on the mechanical hand, pinching her skin in their frantic scrabbling. She didn’t try to help. Her arms were tired, her thoughts sluggish. Her head was jarred as someone began striking at the hand with something—metal striking metal—until it finally released. Blood rushed through. Her skull began to pound as though a thousand hammers were trying to break out from within. Her neck and back were on fire. She curled on the ground, unable to control her shaking or the tears streaming from her eyes in earnest now.
“Mae!” Chaff gathered her to his chest. “Get that bludger’s body out of here and one of you put the poor mutt out of its misery. Diggs, get her things, I’m taking her inside.” His hand brushed at the tears on her cheeks. “Mae, are you all right?”
She couldn’t answer. The memory of the poor dog bleeding in the street filled her vision.
That could have been me.
She buried her face against his chest, eyes squeezed tight against a raging headache. Anger that he hadn’t come sooner and joy that he had come at all warred inside her. The former wasn’t rational. She knew that, but she let it have its say now while she was in too much pain to act on it.
He stood and carried her into the building. Minutes later, he sat her on a cot in one of several mostly intact rooms toward the back of the ramshackle building and crouched in front of her. Diggs entered the room behind them and set her things in a pile. Among them was her cap, which she hadn’t even noticed had fallen off. Macak yowled, a discordant expression of displeasure now. Chaff shot a glance at the case and then up at Diggs now standing in the doorway.
“She’s carrying some interesting baggage,” Diggs said. “Need anything else?”
“Wait there a minute.” Chaff looked at her. “We need to get you out of that jacket.”
Maeko didn’t move. The muscles in her back protested even the thought of movement. He began to take the jacket off for her. Pain flared in her neck, streaking up to amplify the pounding in her skull and down to flare out along her shoulders. A whimper slipped out and Chaff murmured an apology.
He took the jacket to Diggs. “Have someone clean this up and bring me a damp rag. Then go and see if anyone has something she can wear so we can get her clothes clean and dry.”
The other boy nodded, but he didn’t leave. “She going to be all right?” he asked in a whisper. “She took a nasty walloping out there.”
“She’ll be fine. You know, May, she’s tough.”
Ma-eh. She couldn’t find her voice to correct him. A fresh flow of tears streamed down her cheeks. Bloody fool thing to weep about.
Diggs didn’t look convinced. He stood gazing at her, hunched like a scolded puppy. “I should’a got down there faster.”
Chaff put a hand on his shoulder. “You were brilliant, mate.” His tone was gentle, reassuring. He was a good leader. “Go get me that wet rag so I can clean her up.”
The other boy ran a hand through his hair and nodded, his shoulders still hanging when he walked away.
Chaff crouched in front of her again. “What are you doing coming around here after dark, Pigeon? I thought that rich toff was looking after you.” He wiped away her tears again, but they continued to creep forth.
“Lucian’s dead,” she muttered. Talking made her neck hurt more, pain flaring up through her jaw and out along her shoulders.
Chaff lowered his eyes and cursed expressively under his breath. After a minute or so of tense silence, he looked at her again and squeezed her hands, making his tone once more calm and reassuring. “You do have hard luck sometimes.”<
br />
Diggs returned carrying a bundle of ragtag clothes and a wet rag. Chaff took the items and ushered him out again, shutting the door behind him this time. This was Chaff’s room, one of the few in the building with a door that actually shut all the way. There were some privileges to being in charge.
He set the items next to her on the cot then took a moment to open the carrier. Macak bolted over to give her a brief talking to for the rough handling then shook himself and proceeded to examine his new surroundings. Chaff shook his head, watching the smooth motion of the clockwork leg. After a few seconds staring at the exploring cat, he went to dig something out of the emergency stash he kept in a charred cabinet along one wall. He brought a small bottle over, sank down next to her and opened it, drawing out the dropper.
He held it up to her lips. “This will help.”
She let her head rest back into the hand he put behind her for support. He squeezed several drops into her mouth. The fluid stung on her punctured tongue. She forced a swallow, recognizing the bitter flavor. Laudanum. Swallowing hurt too. Everything hurt.
Chaff set aside the bottle and picked up the rag. “This’ll be cold, but you have some…” he screwed up his face, “bits… of that bludger on you.”
Maeko’s stomach did a flip, but the thought of how much it would hurt to be sick again gave her the will to hold it back.
Chaff cleaned the back of her head as carefully as he could, apologizing whenever a moan or whimper of pain slipped out. When that was done, he helped her change clothes, keeping his gaze averted except when she needed his help. His consideration for her privacy surprised her somewhat. Many boys might have taken advantage of the moment. She wanted to thank him for his thoughtfulness, but she was too tired and sore to put the words together.
They sat on the cot again and he stayed with her. He didn’t pester for answers. Instead, he stroked her hair, his touch gentle, and let her lean into him until the tincture took hold and dragged her down into sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Maeko woke to pain and confusion. Where was she? Why did she hurt so much?
In an extreme departure from most normal mornings, she awoke laying on her side pressed against another warm body, her head pillowed on their shoulder. She held her breath and kept still, afraid of waking the other person before she figured out who they were and why she was lying with them. It took several agonizing and anxious seconds for the fog of sleep and pain to lift enough for her to recall the events of the prior day—the airship explosion, visiting Ash, the attack in the alley—and where it had all ended with her falling asleep in Chaff’s protective embrace.
The initial fear making her pulse race faded, but her pulse didn’t slow. One of her arms lay across his chest and she became uncomfortably aware of the lean muscle she could feel through the threadbare shirt under her hand. She liked the way he felt next to her. So warm, strong, and safe. This would add another layer of complication to her troubled relationships, but at least both of them were fully dressed.
Macak curled against her low back, making a blazing hot spot there, almost as hot as her face felt while she tried to think of some way to extricate herself from her well-surrounded position without waking Chaff.
A small shift of her hip to try to budge the cat sent spasms through her injured back, which sent a spasm through her neck in turn and wrenched a cry from her. Chaff shifted, placing a hand on her arm. So much for not waking him.
“Are you all right?”
Pain still blazed like white hot fire through her back and she felt warm tears slip free of her eyes. She muttered a few curses under her breath.
Chaff shifted his shoulder out so her head now rested on his arm and turned on his side to face her. She didn’t dare try to move again yet, not knowing how much the effort would hurt. He brushed away a tear with his thumb. He looked so very concerned and he was so very close.
She felt a little lightheaded now and it wasn’t only from pain. Blast his worried blue eyes. I’m in no shape to be swooning over a boy. The tight, painful muscles in her neck discouraged jaw movement, so she spoke in a whisper. “I was trying to get up without disturbing you.”
Chaff smiled. He did have a lovely smile. It was beautiful to see after all she’d been through.
“Stubborn bird. You got done down hard. You need to let me help you.”
She clenched her jaw and winced at the resulting lance of pain.
Chaff chuckled at her thwarted defiance. “Will you let me help you?”
She started to nod and ended up squeezing her eyes shut against more tears.
He kissed her forehead. “How could anyone not love you?” he murmured and started to climb out of the cot over her and Macak.
Her heart stuttered and her eyes popped open. What was that he said? No, she wasn’t going to think about it. She couldn’t, not right now. Thinking about it made her headache worse.
Macak hopped off the cot with a squeak of protest at Chaff’s prodding. Then he helped her up, doing most of the work so she wouldn’t have to engage her injured muscles any more than necessary. The process ended up being a painful one despite both their efforts to avoid hurting her and more of those irritating tears slipped free. She’d had about enough of those.
“You need more laudanum?”
She shook her head, regretted it, and decided whispering her responses might be the better option. “Not yet. I need to visit the privy.”
“Do you need help?”
She gave him a sharp look.
“I didn’t mean…” He chuckled and went to open the door, sweeping a hand in front of him to usher her on her way. “Go on then. I should’ve known you’d be too bloody stubborn to let me help you.”
She walked to the door, every step sending a spasm through her back no matter how deliberate and careful she tried to be.
He leaned close as she went past, a glimmer of amusement breaking through the concern in his eyes. “You’ll be pressing me for that laudanum by the time you get back.”
She thought about cursing him, but it would take far too much of the energy she needed for walking. Settling for a glare out of the corner of her eye, she made her laborious way out into the building.
Many of the boys who were up and moving around in the chaotic array of salvaged furniture and makeshift living areas she recognized. Their greetings were friendly enough, in the manner of comrades under one leadership, though Chaff was more of a mentor than a leader to many of them. Some winced in sympathy for her obvious pain and some gave suggestive winks toward Chaff’s room that she might have slugged them for under different circumstances.
Macak trotted along beside her, taking his self-appointed responsibility as her escort very seriously and earning several comments and appraising looks as he pranced through the hideout, his clockwork leg gleaming in the light of myriad lanterns and candles.
How dusty and ragged it all looked after her brief stay with Lucian. And the smell… Best not to focus too much on that. Suffice it to say that she kind of missed the dreadful perfume Constance was always trying to put on her.
By the time she made her slow progression back to Chaff’s room, she did want to beg for more laudanum and perhaps for him to carry her the last several steps to the cot as well. Chaff might never let her live that down though, so she trudged the last little bit across the room to the cot while he watched with one eyebrow cocked, expecting the call for help to come at any moment.
She stopped next to the cot and stared down at it. Chaff clicked the door shut behind Macak. She tried to sink down gracefully, but it turned into more of a fall. By the time she righted herself to sit on the edge of the cot amidst numerous pained gasps and more tears, Chaff was standing there holding up a mixture of beer and laudanum tincture.
She accepted the offered drink, gagging on the bitter aftertaste and the sting as it ran over her wounded tongue. She watched him put the bottle away. “I never got off a scream. How did you know I was in trouble last night?”
/>
Chaff dunked a rag in a small basin of water and came to sit next to her. He placed the cold rag against her neck. It felt good, relieving some of the burning ache there. She closed her eyes and leaned into him. Macak curled up on her other side against her hip and began to purr. She stroked his head, the contentment of his furry warm body on one side and Chaff’s strong comforting presence on the other lifting her mood a touch despite the pain.
“I figured the coin purse you sent meant we were still safe here. Nice job nicking that when I was distracted, by the way,” he added with a sly grin. “However, I still don’t trust that detective bird, so I set some of the boys on extra watches just in case. Diggs was on rooftop watch when he saw that bludger attack you. Creepy bloke had been lurking around for a bit. Diggs ran down fast as he could, grabbing me and a few other boys on the way. The bloke must have been on something. Diggs and I both hit him from behind with boards that’d come off the building. Didn’t do so much as distract him from you, so Diggs grabbed the bludger’s side iron and shot him in the back of the head. Right powerful piece he had too, unmarked with a wicked kick that set Diggs back on his arse in the dirt. The bloke didn’t even seem to notice he’d been shot for a second.”
She stared at the tattered remains of a carpet near the bed. “He’s dead.”
“And gone.”
Mostly gone. She’d be surprised if they hadn’t taken his mechanical arm for the value of the parts at the very least.
Chaff brushed her hair back from her face with careful fingers. She hadn’t cut it quite short enough the last time. Already the front was growing out to the point that it hung into her eyes. His hand slid around the side of her face, brushing along her cheek, tracing her jaw. In that moment, she thought she understood why cats loved being petted so much. She managed a weary smile.
“I didn’t know if we were going to get him off you in time.”
The tightness in his voice caught her attention and she opened her eyes, but her injured neck wouldn’t let her turn to look at him. She let the laudanum and his light caress lull her eyes shut again. He flipped the rag against her neck, turning it to a cooler section. She almost drifted off before he spoke again.
The Girl and the Clockwork Conspiracy: Clockwork Enterprises Book Two Page 10