Strong Mystery: Murder, Mystery and Magic Books 1-3 (Steampunk Magica)

by Raven Bond

“I believe I have, your Grace. The law simply states ‘until one of the two shall no longer be able to raise a defense’. I would offer that Mistress MacAllister has lost as thoroughly as if she had been killed.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a silver cigarette case. Slowly, he tapped the end of the cigarette alight and blew smoke upwards. “Besides, I am more interested in hearing what she has to say concerning her arrangements with certain nobles within the Empire, aren’t you, your Grace?”

  The Duke’s face turned red, and he choked in indignation,

  “See here, sir! Do you mean to imply that I had something to do with this…sordid affair? I will call you out myself!”

  Owen grinned like a skull.

  “Oh, come now, Caldwell, I’ve said nothing of the kind! Although,” he continued musingly, “it would be of interest to see what Mistress MacAllister has to say.” He raised an eyebrow at the apoplectic Duke.

  “My Lord Governor.” Owen turned to the English Governor General of Hong Kong, who was standing next to Duke Caldwell. “Would you be so kind as take not only Mistress MacAllister into your care, but also Duke Caldwell and the Austrian delegation?”

  The Governor stepped away from Duke Caldwell, with a look of disgust on his face.

  “While I can gladly take the criminal, Mistress MacAllister, I’m not sure I have the authority to detain either a Ducal Ambassador, or a group of accredited delegates of a foreign power,” he said with great sadness in his voice.

  “May I approach,” Owen asked. At the Governor’s nod, Owen made his way through the throng, climbing the stairs to the stage where the delegates stood.

  Owen pulled the carte blanche from his vest pocket, holding it out wordlessly to the Governor General, who took it. His eyebrows rose inch by inch as his eyes ran over the words.

  “My God, man,” he breathed, “do you know what this is?”

  Owen grimaced bleakly.

  “Yes, Sir Charles, I do, and now it is yours.”

  Sir Charles rocked back on his heels.

  “Can you even do that?”

  Owen pointed to the carte blanche.

  “I believe it says there that I can.”

  “Perhaps,” Sir Charles’ eyes narrowed. “Why are you doing this? No one surrenders this kind of power willingly.”

  Owen gave an elegant shrug.

  “With that kind of power comes a responsibility that I have neither sought out, nor desired. You’ve always said you were a reformer hampered by a lack of power. Well, Sir Charles, I suggest you reform while you can.”

  They were interrupted by a triumphant roar, as the Golden Dragon flew towards them and veered off at the last moment. They watched in silence as the magnificent being gently landed in the mouth of a cave high on the hill behind them.

  “And now I believe you and your Chinese counterpart shall have to answer to an angry Dragon”, Owen said dryly. “I do not envy you, if you cannot show him that you are on top of the plot.”

  “What plot,” Sir Charles said crossly. “All I see is a mad woman murderess, and I was told something about a group of ships approaching the city while you were dueling. What did you do to MacAllister by the way? I’ve never seen a sleep spell work so well.”

  Owen sketched the outline of the plot briefly. Sir Charles regarded the information with an iron face.

  “Not while I am Governor of this city,” he said with iron determination.

  Owen smiled at the Governor again.

  “That’s the spirit,” he said encouragingly, “Now to deal with that Dragon.”

  Later Jinhao asked him about the duel.

  “So what did you do to Mistress MacAllister?” The two of them sat around a glowing brazier in Owen’s house. The weather had continued to be very chilly, causing even Owen to be grateful for the heat.

  He pulled on his pipe staring into the glowing coals.

  “I turned her life force back against her. She was pumping out such a lovely amount, throwing around big spells like that.”

  Jinhao looked at him uncertainly.

  “I did not know that was possible.”

  Owen smiled wanly at her.

  “It is perilously close to Necromancy, as far as Crown law is concerned. I trust you won’t turn me in for it.”

  Jinhao gave her gentle smile,

  “Of course not.” She raised one patrician eyebrow, “That is, so long as you tell me what this plot was and how you figured it out.”

  Owen sighed.

  “It all started with Partridge. Why should he hand such an important assignment to me, an avowed renegade? And why include such a powerful instrument as the carte blanche? I can follow his thought even now. ‘Turn the young pup’s head, and puff him up so that he does something stupid’ is how I think it went.” Owen blew out smoke.

  “The only problem was that I could not figure out the British connection until the duel. Then it was very clear to me. Duke Caldwell, head of the delegation, had to be actually in favor of the Austrians taking over Hong Kong, which meant that the Order had to think that there was a way to not only avert the threat of World War, but bring someone like Caldwell to heel as well.” Owen paused thoughtfully, before continuing.

  “Doubtless Caldwell had some economic deal worked out with MacAllister for when she was head of Hastings House. That was the only motive that would explain his encouragement of the stupidity of the duel. He had no idea I am sure, as to the destruction the Austrians were planning.”

  “But Mistress McAlister was not the heir to the House…” Jinhao observed.

  “Ah, caught that did you,” Owen nodded approvingly. “That was one less reason to consider her a suspect at first. The Austrians must have filled her head with talk of being given the title once they were in charge. Caldwell doubtless encouraged such thoughts with balderdash about royal patents and the like. No mind that it would have meant killing also Lady Hastings and her brother,” Owen said.

  “No self-respecting Englishman could possibly entertain such carnage,” Owen stated. “Besides it would literally kill the goose and the golden eggs at the same time.” Seeing Jinhao’s puzzlement at the phrase, Owen quickly added some context. “It is a saying we have. I’ll explain it someday.”

  Jinhao waved that aside.

  “So how did you get the proof to give Sir Charles before he presented it to Lohan?”

  “Oh, there isn’t any proof, not really,” Owen said breezily. “That simply must be the way it was.”

  Seeing Jinhao’s incredulous look, he scowled.

  “Wait until Mistress MacAllister comes to, or one of Caldwell’s precious servants spend a night in gaol. Then you’ll see. Gregg has already found clothing at MacAllister’s that would make a good messenger disguise. Wait and see.”

  Chapter 21

  Jinhao came downstairs just as the visitor arrived at the front door.

  She had seen Sir Stephen Partridge from the upper windows and doubted very much that Owen would wish to see him. She also doubted that dear old Barton would be able to keep him out.

  She considered, again, the merits of killing him. When Mistress MacAllister had come awake, her story matched what Owen had deduced all those months ago. While the now former Duke of Caldwell had paid for his part in the plot with public disgrace, Jinhao was certain that others such as Sir Stephen had escaped without repercussions.

  Owen had convinced her that he was more trouble to go after than to leave alone, yet here he was walking right into her reach. She shook her head clear of the temptation as she opened the door.

  Sir Stephen’s eyes widened as she appeared.

  “You answer doors now, do you?” The old man stopped just the other side of the house wards. “Please tell him that I wish to speak with him.”

  “I doubt that he wishes to speak to you,” she replied tartly.

  Owen came bustling out of the downstairs parlor followed by Barton.

  “What’s this then,” he snapped. He pulled his blue lounging robe closer around
himself. “Oh it’s you Partridge. I’m sorry, not in the mood to play another one of your deadly little games, if that’s what you want. Good day to you.” He turned back towards the parlor door.

  “Wait,” Sir Stephen cried. “Don’t you even wish to hear what has brought me here? Won’t you let me in?”

  Owen gave his shark-like smile.

  “Oh I do not think I will let you inside my wards again Partridge, nor do I think you want to try it even if a household member does give you leave.”

  “Owen, wait,” Sir Stephen said earnestly. “I have always had your best interests at heart, believe me. After the affair with Duke Caldwell I’m afraid that you’ve come very much to the attention of unfriendly forces, forces that neither your brother, nor the governor, nor I can keep from you.”

  “Is that what you’ve come to say? Warn me about deadly shadows?” Owen laughed, his eyes alight. “I had already deduced as much some months ago. There are moneyed interests that I have given the black eye to. I have something more interesting to attend to now, however.

  “It seems that there are fishermen vanishing in odd circumstances.” He turned to Jinhao.

  “Jinhao please do not kill him. It would make for awkwardness.” With that he turned and re-entered the front parlor. Jinhao had a chance to see an old woman in fisherman’s work clothes sitting within.

  Sir Stephen looked at Jinhao crossly.

  “Well,” the old man snapped at her.

  “It is well, yes,” Jinhao nodded at him.

  His face darkened.

  “No! I mean, do you intend to follow his wishes about not trying to kill me?”

  She looked at him coolly.

  “I see no reason not to. Understand that it is his wish that makes it so. You cannot harm him anymore, as he said.” The old man seemed about to say something, she thought, then he changed his mind, or so it appeared.

  “Well,” Sir Stephen said. “I had best be going then.” He waved a hand at the sign near the door. “This is new since I was last here. What is this all about?” The sign said: ‘Owen Strong-Magica Investigations and Inquiries’ in both English and Mandarin.

  “It is Owen’s calling now,” Jinhao said proudly. “He is gaining a name among English and Han alike, for being who one can go to when there is strange trouble in their lives, whether they be noble or commoner.”

  Sir Stephen Partridge sniffed.

  “Well enough I suppose for a dilettante,” he drawled. “Good-day to you Mistress Jinhao.”

  “And to you, Partridge,” Jinhao returned. She watched in silence as the old man walked away. When she was sure he had gone, she turned to the front parlor. Entering noiselessly, she watched the animated glow on Owen’s face.

  It looked so much better than the bored indifference he used to show. Jinhao knew the new look well.

  That look on Owen’s face meant that whatever the old woman was saying to him, Owen would take up her cause.

  ~ ~ ~

  BOOK 3

  STRONG JUSTICE

  Chapter 1

  “I am so glad that you can help, Owen. When I’d heard that you had moved to this corner of the world, I couldn’t believe my good fortune.” Owen smiled at this. James Findley had always had a strong sense of the dramatic, ever since they had been at Peakhurst Boarding school together. They were in Owens’s front parlor sipping brandy and enjoying a warm fire. It seemed that it was unusually cold for this time of year in Hong Kong. The comforts of an aromatic brandy and a crackling fire had driven away the fingers of cold from the chilly fog outside.

  “Yes,” Owen said mildly around his snifter, “I am sorry, but I must have missed that before. How did you learn where I was?” he asked mildly.

  “Oh we had your brother and Sandra over for dinner. He let it slip as it were.” James took a rather large swig of from his own snifter, and smiled sheepishly. “He didn’t mean to, I’m sure. I wouldn’t dream of invading your privacy except the circumstances are so dire.”

  It seemed that James’s father had been indiscreet in money affairs. It wasn’t that the British peerage wasn’t normally indiscreet; it was that his father had the bad sense to give his personal note to cover the affair, which was very indiscreet by Britain Society rules. Now the note had been bought by an unscrupulous paper broker who demanded twice as much as the face value of the note, or he would expose the entire thing to Society at large, which would ruin the Findley name for at least a generation.

  The paper merchant made Hong Kong his home, as did many of his kind. The laws were looser here. When his father had been stricken with a sudden illness, James had made his way to Owen’s door.

  “I’ve heard of this Liu Fong,” Owen said. “Really, you can take this to the police. I know an inspector on the local constabulary who would help. Even in Hong Kong such acts as blackmail are illegal.”

  “But we can’t,” James cried, sitting upright. “The note might leak out no matter how discreet you say they are. It would be best simply to pay the man and be done with it.”

  “That is why I’ve come to you, Owen. I need someone to watch my back in this heathen country.” He looked at Owen with sad brown eyes, which caused Owen to sigh.

  “Don’t let my roommate hear you call the Han ‘heathen’. To them we’re the heathen ones. Their culture is at least as old as ours you know.”

  “Ah,” James looked around. “Is she your leman?”

  “My lover you mean?” Owen chuckled, “No Jinhao is not that, she’s well, she is herself. I fear that you won’t be able to meet her though. She’s away for a few days.” James seemed to relax at hearing this.

  “Ah,” James said in response. “Then there is no reason for you not to accompany me tonight.” Owen regarded his old chum in the flickering firelight. Being a sorcerer, Owen could have had the glow-globes in their overhead housings blazing, without worrying about the cost of recharging them. However, he preferred the softer light. He felt that it revealed character not readily visible otherwise. Those brown eyes, Owen thought to himself. He never could refuse them.

  “I most certainly shall,” Owen looked at the time-piece on the wall. “You say he wished to meet you at eleven? That gives us plenty of time to have dinner. Mrs. Han is a splendid cook. You must stay for dinner and then we shall be fortified for when we go to recover your father’s note.”

  “Really,” James protested “I did not dream of imposing on you this much.”

  “Nonsense!” Owen said. He raised his snifter in a toast. “Play up school!”

  “Play up school!” James replied. The two old friends laughed as their glasses touched with a clink.

  ~ ~ ~

  Later when they had arrived at the address Findley supplied, Owen stopped him from climbing out of the enclosed coach. Holding the man’s arm tightly, Owen looked James Findley in the face.

  “Listen,” Owen said gravely, “this may not go as you think it will.” Findley’s Adams apple bobbed.

  “I am not sure what you mean,” he said shakily.

  “This is hardly the way business is done here, James,” Owen explained. “You may believe that this will be a simple exchange. I assure you nothing is ever simple with these people, especially when they wish to meet in deserted areas at night.”

  An aether pistol suddenly appeared in Owen’s hand, the clear charge tube at the rear of it glowing a baleful red in the shadows of the coach. Firing bursts of alchemical created elemental energy, aether pistols where very lethal and very illegal.

  “Good Antlered Lord,” Findlay exclaimed, looking at the pistol as if it were a snake.

  “Violence, James,” Owen said bleakly. “These people work on violence. You should remember that in the future.” Owen extended the pistol to him. “I trust you still know how to shoot?” Reluctantly, Findley took it from him.

  “Yes, but what about you?” He asked, hefting the weapon.

  Owen held up his cane which faintly glowed the bright red of electrum, with a blue stone inset a
t the handle. The red stone held a bright sheen. This was a sorcerer’s focus, one that allowed Owen to direct the bound powers of the elemental tattoos on his body. The cane was far more formidable than any gun.

  “I doubt that I will have any trouble,” Owen said. His eyes searched his friends face. “Are you ready for this, James?”

  Wordlessly James Findley nodded. They disembarked from the carriage and began walking, with Owen leading and James following. Owen looked out at the abandoned buildings that surrounded them, the fog already beginning to penetrate his wool cloak.

  “I say old dear,” Owen said sardonically to James. “This does not look like a legitimate business place to me, does it to you?”

  “Well, I don’t know what to say,” James Findley stammered, “I’m sure this is the right address.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt of that,” Owen turned to face him. “I said it wasn’t legitimate business. Much like you are not, James. Legitimate that is.” Findley startled at this.

  “What do you mean by that Owen?” he questioned. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

  “Oh you can drop the act now James,” Owen said tiredly. “Did you think that I would let you lead me into being surrounded by them? Really, it is all so depressingly simple. You lead me into a building, we met the mysterious Liu Fong, and meanwhile I’m being targeted by snipers if he is smart, or simple thugs if he is not. They spring out to either kill me or capture me.” Owen cocked his head to his old school chum. “Which is it James? Or do you even know?” Findley raised the aether pistol that Owen had given him, pointing it shakily at Owen.

  “You always were too clever for your own good Owen,” he said hoarsely. “They only wish to take you back to Britain. That is all I know. It was supposed to be as simple as you said, but now you’ve gone and mucked it up.”

  “Whatever hold they have on you James, I can help,” Owen said gently. “It is still not too late.” Findley laughed, a dead rattling sound.

  “There really is a money note floating around, Owen. Only it doesn’t belong to Father, but to me. They said that after they had ruined me they would see to Heather and the baby.” Findley began crying. “They scare me Owen. All I have to do is give them you, and it all goes away.” Owen sighed, leaning on his cane.