Silas only chuckled in response. He knew Rat had been hoping to see the Indian peoples that were here when this land was settled, the savages who still sometimes attacked the settlements around them.
“What?”
“Still want to have a shootout with the red-skinned savages like in those penny dreadfuls you always read? I think they’re the only things you’ve read since we taught you how to read.”
“I would’ve started readin’ a lot sooner had I known there were such brilliant things to read,” Rat answered. “But who wouldn’t want t’seek his fortunes out West and be a gunslinger and have all kinds of adventures and such?”
Silas laughed loud and long at that. “Oh, Ratty. Only you would still be seeking adventure after freeing London from a mad sorcerer and a queen possessed by an unimaginable evil, then coming to the New World and freeing the slaves from their Southern overlords and their army of the undead led by voodoo priestesses!” He could barely catch his breath.
“Well, when ye say it like that, sure it sounds excitin’.” Rat frowned and finished the rest of his gin with barely a wince.
“I am truly going to miss you, Ratty. I never thought I’d hear myself say it.”
“I’m goin’ t’miss you too, Benty. And I never thought I’d hear ye say that, neither.” Rat glanced around. “Where’s Sev?”
“Round the corner at the Bonnie Lass. It’s a—”
“Tavern,” Rat finished. “I know it. Owned by a surly Irishman. Not a wonder Sev haunts it. Must give him some small comfort.”
Silas started. He’d had no idea the pub was run by one of Sev’s countrymen. He silently chastised himself for not pressing Sev more these last few weeks, for not trying to pull him out of his shell. He felt slightly ashamed that he’d thought ill of Sev spending so much time there.
“Ye haven’t been givin’ him a rough time of it fer drinkin’ there, have ye?” Rat asked, obviously reading Silas’s reaction much too astutely.
Silas cleared his throat. “I, er,” he sputtered.
“Ye clueless, git,” Rat said, standing. “Get yer coat. We’re goin’ t’the pub.” Rat grabbed his own coat and slipped it on. Silas didn’t argue, only went to the coatrack near the door and retrieved his overcoat.
A SHORT walk later found the pair inside the Bonnie Lass. The dark, smoky interior resembled that of any number of pubs they could have found on the streets of Blackside. They found Sev alone, milling over papers at the end of the bar. A half-empty bottle of Irish whiskey sat before him. Rat and Silas chose seats on either side. “All right, Ratty?” Sev asked, his voice slightly slurred from the drink.
Rat ordered himself a gin and said, “I’m all right, mate. How’re you farin’?”
Sev chuckled low but remained quiet otherwise.
Silas asked the barkeep for water. “We’re worried, Sev,” he said, the emotion in his voice thick.
“Ye should be worried. They’ve abolished slavery, but they don’t believe blacks are worth anythin’.” Sev poured some whiskey and drank. “It’s only a matter o’time before they start their garbage again.”
“So what do we do?” Rat asked.
“We find that automaton,” Sev responded.
“The one with the brain?” Rat drank. “The magic one?”
Silas pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated, worried that Sev had lost his grip on reality. “That’s just stories.” He laughed nervously. “Lies to sell chapbooks and newspapers.”
“I don’t think it is.” Sev slid some documents over. “All the research I’ve been doin’ says different.”
Silas picked up the papers and flipped through them, a few blueprints, some newspaper articles, and the transcript of an interview with the alleged creator, Ivar Grelling. Silas shook his head. “This is all Greek to me,” he confessed, placing the papers back on the bar top. “What does it all mean?”
“He was scared, Si. He was terrified that his creation would fall into the wrong hands or that someone was after him.” Sev poured himself a shot.
“So what happened to the bloke?” Rat asked.
“Nobody knows,” Sev replied. “He just disappeared with most of his research.”
“Most?” Silas wondered if someone really was after the man.
“They found a few bits and pieces o’stuff, notes mostly. They make ’im sound crazy. And nobody’s been able t’make hide nor hair o’what’s left.”
“Sev.” Silas wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but by the change on Sev’s face, it was obvious Silas had chosen to use the wrong tone.
“Don’t,” Sev barked. “Don’t act like this is nothin’, like it ain’t important.” Sev rested his forehead on the bar. “It’s very important.” His voice was slightly muffled when he spoke. Silas glanced at Rat with a frown. Rat just shrugged.
“It ain’t that crazy. Is it, Benty? After all the shite we’ve seen.”
“See? Ratty gets it.” Sev’s voice grew weaker. It sounded like he might be drifting off to sleep. Or passing out more likely, Silas thought.
“Let’s get you home,” Silas said, hoisting Sev from the stool. “Would you collect his research, Ratty?” Rat didn’t answer, only swept the papers into a bundle before dropping a few coins on the bar. Silas nodded and turned toward the exit, bearing most of Sev’s weight as they made their way out of the bar.
TWO WEEKS later and all the arrangements were made for Silas and Sev to return to England. As interesting as Silas found America, he had to admit he couldn’t wait to be home. He’d had a few telegrams from Murry about the goings-on in Undertown, but he longed to see how the original subterranean city had fared without him.
Most of all he wanted to get Sev out of this country. He feared for his love’s sanity. Sev had very nearly been living between various libraries, museums, and taverns throughout the city. His exhaustive research into Grelling and his supposed automaton seemed to be taking a toll on Sev’s health. He looked wan and undernourished. He mumbled to himself excessively, and it all worried Silas to no end. He knew getting Sev away from all of these rumors and fairy tales would be the best thing for him.
Silas had a few more items to pack before their departure. He boxed up the last of the gearcycles for shipment back to Blackside. The apartments they’d taken were nearly empty except for Sev’s papers, books, and maps strewn all over what had once been the sitting room. A cry broke Silas’s ruminations, and he ran to check on Seven.
He found him sitting on the floor where he’d been falling asleep more and more frequently. Pages fluttered around him as if he’d just sat up very quickly. He was panting and looked terribly frightened.
“Are you all right, Sev?”
Sev’s head snapped around, and it appeared as if he didn’t see Silas. Although Silas had seen that look in Seven’s eyes before, and what he saw there was murder, pure and simple. “Sev?” Silas spoke softly, hoping not to agitate him further.
Sev blinked, rubbed at his eyes, and then shook his head. “Si?” He sounded confused. “Time is it?”
“Half past noon. Are you all right? You cried out in your sleep.”
Sev grumbled, cleared his throat, and said, “Fine. Fine. Just a bad dream.”
Silas worried his bottom lip with his teeth. Sev’s bad dreams had been growing fewer and easier since the Battle of Blackside, but now, lately they’d been returning with renewed venom—another reason Silas couldn’t wait for them to be on their way. “It’s our last day in the States, Sev. Why don’t we spend it relaxing? You’ve been working overhard on your research of late. I think you could do with some easy sightseeing, a fine meal, and a pleasant last night sleeping in a bed rather than here on the floor.” Silas waited, trying to gauge his love’s reaction. “What do you say?”
Sev sighed and glanced around at the papers strewn about. Then slowly but more and more surely, he nodded. “I think ye might have a point there, Si.” He laughed weakly and started to gather up the sheaves of parchment. “Ye must think I�
��m a right git by now.”
Silas tsked and knelt to help Sev. “Of course not. You’re just passionate. It’s one of the things I love about you.”
Sev suddenly stopped fiddling with the paper and slumped. Something that sounded like a choked sob escaped his lips. “Oh, Silas. My dear Silas. I’ve been completely ignorin’ ye these past few days, haven’t I?”
Days? More like weeks, Silas thought but didn’t say. “Don’t worry yourself over such trifles. I’m a big boy. I can entertain myself.”
Sev grabbed Silas in a hug rather unexpectedly, scattering the pages they’d both gathered. “I’m so sorry, Si. I’m so, so sorry. About everythin’.”
Silas returned the embrace and kissed the side of Sev’s sleep-messy hair. He knew Sev wasn’t just apologizing for ignoring him but for all the hardship that he and their friends had endured. “Shh. Sev. It’s okay. No one blames you for anything.”
Sev did weep then, into Silas’s shoulder. They sat there for some time. Silas knew this was something Sev needed. He waited patiently until Sev finally took a few deep breaths, calming himself, regaining control. “Thank you, Silas. I’m very, very lucky t’have you. I love you.”
“I love you too, Sev.” He patted Sev cheerily. “Now come on, up you get.” He stood, pulling Sev to his feet along with him. “You go and have yourself a bath. I’ll straighten this up and order in some tea and biscuits. Then we’ll pop out and make the most of this beautiful afternoon.”
Sev smiled. It seemed the first genuine smile Silas had seen from him in quite some time. “All right, Silas. Ye really are a gem.”
“Oh.” Silas felt his cheeks warm just a bit. “Off with you. Go on.” He waved Sev out of the room and smiled to hear the bathwater running. He gathered up Seven’s research and bound it with some twine, placing it neatly in a small box for traveling. As he gathered up the last of the notes, he uncovered Fairgate’s Grimoire. He curled his lip as he looked at the vile thing. Sev had rarely let the book out of his sight since he’d discovered his affinity for its magic. Silas didn’t like the thing one bit and was still of the opinion they should have just destroyed it when they’d discovered it. He reached out to touch it, to throw it in the box with the rest of Sev’s mad research, but when his skin touched the cover, a chilling shock ran up his arm.
Silas jumped up and back, cradling his stunned hand with his mechanical appendage. “Bugger,” he growled, hoping Sev hadn’t heard him. He considered ridding them of the book’s evil influence once and for all. His gaze fell on the fireplace. Could he burn it? He wanted it to burn, but at any rate, it would ultimately be a betrayal of Seven’s trust. For now, he just picked up the iron fire tongs and used them to deposit the book in the box. He sealed it up, hoping that if the wizard’s tome remained out of sight, it also might remain out of Seven’s mind. He then popped round to the corner shop for the tea and biscuits he’d promised Seven.
THE DAY went just as Silas had promised, and it pleased him to no end that the Seven he’d known and grown to love was starting to resurface. As they strolled through the park, conversing easily, chuckling sporadically, Silas watched Sev start to shrug off some of the stress and worry that had weighted him down since the encounter at Gettysburg. Silas hailed a horse-drawn buggy, and they took a leisurely ride around the park. Sev slipped his hand into Silas’s somewhere along the trip, and when Silas noticed, he smiled. “I missed this, Si.” Sev patted Silas’s hand as he spoke. “I forgot what just bein’ human felt like.”
“You’re constantly trying to be something more for everyone,” Silas answered, nodding. “You always try so hard. I admire that. But there are times when you just have to step back and live for you.”
Sev didn’t respond, just gazed off into the park, barely grinning. “I’m going to miss this,” he whispered.
Silas frowned. “Miss what?” he asked. Something in Sev’s tone upset him.
“Hm?” Sev shivered.
“Are you cold?”
Sev shook his head. “No. No. I just meant I’m goin’ t’miss this city. It speaks t’me in a way.”
“Ah,” Silas said, finally understanding. “Yes. It’s certainly been a unique experience.”
“I’m hungry.” Sev flashed Silas the smile that he found completely disarming. “Where d’ye want t’have a bite to eat?”
“I know just the place,” Silas answered happily.
A short ride later, they found themselves in the company of Mrs. Fennucci and her fantastic Italian cooking. Their conversation consisted of the future and what would happen once they arrived back in London. Sev only grew maudlin for a moment, remembering the first time they’d been introduced to the Fennuccis and their amazing cuisine. Mrs. Fennucci wouldn’t let them leave until she was satisfied they were properly stuffed, and they decided to walk back to their rooms to help work off the enormous meal.
By the time they returned to the warehouse and their apartment, Silas was ravenous for something completely different, and he could tell Sev shared his sentiments. It had been so long since either had felt proper human contact, and it was obvious that Sev missed Silas’s touch as much as he had missed Sev’s. They fell into one another’s arms almost before the door closed.
Silas’s perceptions blurred as they made their way to the only thing left in their bedroom, a bare mattress on the floor. Hands grasping, heavy gulps of air, and passionate kisses punctuated their trip up the stairs. Sev pushed Silas onto the mattress, and Silas realized his coat and shirt had been shed at some point. Sev was quickly stripping off clothes, before he dropped onto the mattress with Silas, and they melted into one another, their love finally given full rein in a physical crescendo. By the time they’d finished, Silas was exhausted, panting and damp with sweat. He could feel sleep gripping him against his will. He wanted to remain awake, continue to enjoy their time together even more. He had to console himself with the warmth and pressure of Sev’s body pressed against him, his arms wrapped around Silas. He heard Sev whisper, “I love you.” Then much quieter and barely audible, “I hate to leave you.”
Silas squeezed Sev a little tighter. “You don’t have to,” he barely managed to say before he dropped off to sleep.
39
SEV LAY next to Silas, listening to his love’s breath even out and fall into the familiar rhythm of sleep. He stared up into the rafters of their warehouse apartment. He’d known this day was coming, and he’d dreaded it. He had no choice. Everything they’d done, all they’d sacrificed, all of Lincoln’s legislative efforts amounted to nothing. So many of these Americans still thought black people didn’t deserve their newfound freedom; so many still wanted servants, slaves, or someone to do their menial labor.
Sev had decided weeks ago that it was his duty to find the automaton, to learn how to mass-produce such a clockwork, and to truly free the downtrodden humans. He was reasonably sure from his research that Grelling had fled to South America with his creation. Sev had to follow. From Grelling’s notes he was convinced he could piece together the mechanics of the automaton but the ethereal—that which made the clockwork think—for that he’d need to find the man himself.
That’s not why he hadn’t shared his plan with any of his friends. He hadn’t told Rat or Silas that he had no intention of returning to England. He hated lying to them, but he knew it was necessary. He knew he had no choice. After what happened with Teddy, he had to get as far away from his friends as he could to protect them. Whatever the creature that was in the queen was, whatever its species, they held grudges, and the focus of their ire was Sev. He started to sweat again. He felt his heart race. They could attack at any moment. Every second he spent with Silas, Sev was putting him in danger. Even knowing that, he couldn’t say no to one last day with Silas, one last happy time with the man he loved.
Silas snorted softly in his sleep and shifted away, freeing Sev’s arm. He took it as a sign that this was his moment to slip away. He pressed his lips as softly as he could to Silas’s temple, said a
silent I love you, and carefully extricated himself from the mattress. He spared one last glance at Silas’s slumbering naked form. Sev’s heart ached to leave everything he knew behind. He hated that he was betraying everything they’d shared, but he saw no other way. Tears welled in his eyes. He gathered up his discarded clothes to stave off the swell of emotion, trying to lose himself in the routine of preparing to leave.
Once dressed, he retrieved the duffel of clothes and food he’d been assembling for his trip. He slipped out of the bedroom and through the living room. He slipped his turret pistol into its holster and strapped his crossbow to his arm. He eyed the box where Silas had stored his research. For a moment Sev wondered if he should retrieve it and take it with him, but ultimately he decided he’d learned all he had to learn from it, and he knew where he had to go, what he was looking for. He crept past it, choosing to leave it in favor of lighter travel. He exited the living quarters and was about to descend the stairs to the warehouse floor when he felt a soft thud. He froze, straining to hear anything. No other sounds followed. He wasn’t even sure he’d heard anything in the first place.
He turned to climb down the stairs and found himself gazing at the box his notes and research were in. When had he walked back here? He rolled his sleeve up just enough to expose the blade on the bolt nocked into his arm crossbow and cut the twine binding the box. He lifted the top off and saw Fairgate’s Grimoire resting on top of everything else. “Bloody hell,” Sev said under his breath.
“Shh. Sevvy, you don’t want to wake your man,” an all-too-familiar voice whispered in his head. “Just grab it and let’s be on our way.”
Sev didn’t want to. He wanted to turn and leave the cursed book right where it was. He couldn’t. He swore silently at himself for his weakness, but he grabbed the grimoire and shoved it into his coat. He rushed out of the apartments, into the warehouse, and down to the crate that held his gearcycle. Quietly, carefully, he lifted the side of the crate, the one that he’d pulled the nails from while Silas was fetching tea and biscuits earlier. Slowly he guided the bike out and through the warehouse. He didn’t dare start the thing while he was still inside, lest he alert Silas too soon.
The 7th of Victorica Page 40