by Lexi Ostrow
Apprentices and guild workers tripped over themselves to get out of her way and she pushed through the small hall to the steam lift at the end. The pain from the burn was white hot, but she couldn’t afford not to push it with only one hand. She knew Douglas was pushing from the back because she’d seen him when she rounded the corner and stepped onto the lift, but she didn’t want to make things harder.
“Eliza, the crystal-“ Douglas’s voice was shrill, laced with panic and she whipped her head around, even as the lift was opening, to look at the crystal. She had never seen anything like it. The deep purple crystal had lightened in color and she would swear it was actually glowing. But what caused her to pause were the tiny fissure cracks running up and down it, beautifully lacing together like a spider’s web.
She felt the bike move and she blinked, remembering where she was even as Douglas still fought to push forward. The flames still licked out from the engine component of the bike, dancing across the metal and reflecting in it. Perhaps if it weren’t also leaving behind a growing cloud of black smoke it would be pretty to look upon.
“Move! Get out of the way!” Her shouts echoed off the walls in the grand hall as they raced through it. The sound of scurrying feet and the thumping of her and Douglas’s feet almost drowned out the shattering sound from within the bike. Eliza didn’t have even a moment to realize what was occurring as the shattering and cracking sound came again so did an explosion of flames that knocked her into a wall and caused pieces of the beautifully made bike to fly apart. She cringed as her own head smacked into the wall with a loud thump. Blackness threatened to take over, but not before she saw what had happened.
The grand hall was littered with metal, pieces of burning metal. She briefly saw Douglas to the left of her, blood trickling from his leg. She tried to push herself up off the floor, but it only intensified the pain in her head. The shouts and screams resonated with a sickening tone and she couldn’t hold onto consciousness any longer.
Chapter 5
“Miss Dorley. Miss Dorley, might you be able to hear the sound of my voice?”
Words reached her ears, mushed up sounding and hard to decipher, but she recognized the voice. It belonged to Tate, the guild’s head of medicine. Accidents weren’t unheard of and with all guilds, the clock worker guild took care of its own. She hadn’t seen him often for problems, but he was an old friend of her parents and she had grown up in his company at balls and feasts.
Her eyes slowly cracked open and the rush of candlelight to her right elicited a groan and she snapped them shut again.
“Miss Dorley, please, I can see you have regained consciousness and I must impress upon you the urgency of checking your injuries for something more substantial than a bump to the cranium.”
She felt Tate’s hands gently rocking her shoulders and she pulled away, turning to the right and cried out as a slice of pain tore through her shoulder, hot and blinding. She panted and her eyes flew open, the candlelight was further away this time and she sighed in relief for that small blessing.
“Careful. You have sustained a fair amount of injuries this afternoon. Thankfully a sore shoulder seems to be the worst I’ve been able to see. Do try to remain still.”
She saw the candle flame move back and forth in front of her eyes and she growled low as her eyes became transfixed on it, following the dancing flame side to side.
“Ah yes, very good, no signs of a bleed.” Tate stepped back from her and she pushed up, forgetting the burn on her hand and she hissed.
“What happened?” Her voice sounded strange in her own head, like she was speaking into a cone or something and coming out amplified.
“Well to be frank, you had an experiment quite literally explode in your face.”
Images of racing through the guild with a flaming steam bike crashed into her consciousness. “Bloody hell,” she groaned.
“That would sum it up. One moment and I’ll be back. Master Agardawes wished to be informed when you awoke.” Tate turned and left the room, but left the oil-burning candle with her.
Her stomach was a mess of nerves, there were consequences for failures that endangered lives and she knew she would be in for something fierce for this. Thomas Agardawes was not known for being a particularly harsh Guildmaster, but what he did with the Alliance members; well failure was a poor option for the team of secret workers.
The sound of a throat being cleared pulled her from her thoughts of the various punishments that were about to be placed upon her. “Miss Dorley, how are you feeling?” Master Agardawes’s voice was soft, quiet and it made her more concerned. Calmness meant anything he said came from a level head.
“I am afraid I could feel better, Sir.”
“I suppose you could. Douglas was released an hour or so ago, his injuries were mere slashes to his legs and he shall be fine.”
Bile gathered in her stomach like a lead pit, she hadn’t even thought of Douglas or his status. She was a poor companion to him.
“Do you remember much?”
She nodded and flinched, biting down on her lower lip as the pain surged through her. “I was working on the faster cycle you had asked for. I, I did something wrong. Something in my calculations must have been off and I’m ashamed to say I don’t know what. I promise I can find out.” The words rushed out as they often did when she sought forgiveness from her parents when she would break something as a small child. “It exploded, well it caught on fire first and then the crystal just exploded.” Her head slumped a little at the thought, lives had been endangered, the great hall and a crystal were in ruins and she’d ruined her first solo assignment in years. Her head continued to the thud, the blood pumping an audible force that caused a wave of pain with each sound.
“Yes, that would be accurate. Add in a significant bump to your head, a very minor burn and some sort of damage to your shoulder and you shall have the complete picture.”
His eyes locked onto hers and she swallowed. If ever there was a time she wished for an invisibility device, now was such a moment. She could almost feel his disappointment as if a cloak had settled over the air between them, heavy and constricting.
“Miss Dorley, it brings me no pleasure to do this. But once physician Tate has cleared you, you are on a leave of absence. I want you to leave the guild, go home, go visit a college mate, but you are to vacate the premises and clear your head. I cannot have such mistakes being made within these walls again.”
Tears stung her eyes. She forced them to remain unshed, blinking rapidly to hide them. Even in the dim candle light she did not wish to be seen for the child she was. The condemnation stung as much as the burn on her hand and she bit her lip to stop it from trembling before pushing out long deep breaths.
“Do you understand, Miss Dorley? This isn’t permanent but leave where you are going with my assistant and leave your communicator. I will send word for you when I feel you have had enough time away.”
She forced herself to keep taking the deep breaths. “Yes, sir. I completely understand.” The wavering in her voice betrayed her pain and she wanted to smack herself for such a show of weakness.
Agardawes nodded before patting her gently on her right forearm. “I am glad you are well, Eliza. I will see you soon.” He turned away from her and began to leave the room. “Tate, she is ready for you. Thank you for your care.”
She heard voices indicating the two men carried out a conversation of sorts, but her own thoughts buzzed in her head so loudly they drowned all else out. A suspension from the guild was unheard of. She’d always strove to be perfect, to make her family proud and if they heard of this, they would quite possibly disown her as they had when they’d learned she’d stepped away from a position offered to her by his majesty to pen documents.
Tate administered cream to her hand and she hissed as the sting blocked her thoughts for mere seconds. She also knew he said something about being careful with her head as he helped her off the narrow cloth covered table. She heard him say
that she could travel in three days time. But nothing truly penetrated. Her mind was in a fog, a blackness with nothing but fog rolling through it. Her feet carried her to her chambers and her hands even petted Jessabelle when the metal dog barked at her.
“Dismissed.” The word echoed in her thoughts even as tears slowly slipped down her cheeks. She had never been good enough back in Halifax and now she wasn’t good enough here at the guild. Her vision blurred and she hardly felt Jessabelle’s cold steel tongue dragging over her clothed leg trying to get her attention.
Eliza slid the communication device from her wrist and tugged at the radiation goggles that someone put into her pocket when they’d brought her to the medical rooms. She felt the snag as the metal loop that connected the strap to them caught on her breeches and a tearing sound sliced through the room. “Damn it, Eliza!” she snarled and yanked at the goggles, further tearing the pants and slammed them into the ground. Jessabelle whimpered and immediately withdrew from her attempts at attention and slunk away to the corner. The tears blurred Eliza’s vision so terribly she almost missed how upset the metal dog was.
Sighing, she dropped to her knees and stuck her hand out. “I’m sorry, sweet girl. It was an accident.” Jessabelle’s metal eyes just stared into hers and for the first time, Eliza noticed how truly lifelike the dog was capable of being. She left her hand outstretched, hoping her pet would accept the apology. “I’m not useless. Look what I’ve created. I can do this. I can fix that bloody bike and I damn sure shouldn’t be dismissed!” The fire in her words was back and she threw her hands up in the air and pulled back from the dog.
“Fine, Jessabelle. Cower. Live life afraid of everyone, terrified they’ll hurt you and send you packing.” She pushed off the floor and walked to the closet to pull out her Italian leather carry bags. “Fat lot of good it’s done me. I’m thirty and three with no prospects for a family, I’ve been momentarily sent away from my job and oh yes I’m talking to a tin can!” Eliza slammed a pair wooden dress heels into the bag. Anger rolled off her in waves. Pain made the room spin but if she had to leave, she had to pack.
But she was only angry at herself. Taking it out on a poor invention isn’t making you a better person, Eliza. She didn’t look at Jessabelle as she continued to pack her bags for a journey home. Her eyes lingered on the communicator on her bed stand and she snatched the device up and tucked it safely between her undergarments and blouses. Heavens knew there would be demons where she was going, they were everywhere. For a time they had thought they were only in London, they had quickly learned better when strange attacks had been in the papers. Besides, something about having the device close by, to call the guild should she need, made her feel better. Not as much better as being able to handle the nasty buggers myself would make me feel.
The packing was monotonous. Over and over she looked at her work clothes and then grabbed something else. Her parents would have been appalled if she showed up in anything less than splendid silks. Unfortunately for her she did have two such dresses at the guild. Her mother had seen to sending them when they’d decided to forgive their only child and she couldn’t be rid of them or when holidays came about she would never be free of the harassment from her mother.
Her eyes drifted to the clock on her bed stand when she’d packed the last of her belongings. Two twenty-seven in the morning. A yawn escaped her, most likely due to her seeing the time, and she dropped down onto the bed. At some point Jessabelle had forgiven her and climbed onto the bed. Her cold steel paw was underneath Eliza and she gently pulled it out and stoked the dog’s head. “I’m sorry, sweet girl. I’m just so upset. That man! He just decides everyone’s fate and it isn’t fair! It simply isn’t fair.” She was cut off as another yawn pushed past her lips. Her eyes drooped with the need for sleep and she pulled the covers back without even undressing. “I must be tired if I’m willing to sleep in my clothes, huh, sweet girl?” Eliza yawned again and placed her head on the pillow. “I just have to make it through a few weeks. A few weeks and I’ll be back where I belong.” She exhaled, long and dramatically, and even Jessabelle sighed with her before she closed her eyes.
* * *
He was in front of her. The same man she kept running into, at this same pub. He’d vanished for some time, but was back and her mouth went dry at seeing him once more. His eyes lingered on hers for a moment and she felt the same rush of heat and desire that always accompanied his gaze. Eliza supposed she should be frightened by him. But she wasn’t. His eyes appeared to hold no pupils, which was impossible as she’d learned from another scientist at the guild, the eyes could simply not be black. But she wasn’t. Instead all she felt when she looked at him was a hunger. She wasn’t bedded often and this man had tempted her every time she’d seen him. And every time she’d pulled away before sleeping with him. She’d known plenty of women, Felicia even, who slept with demons for intel. But she’d always thought bedding a man was important, not something to be taken lightly.
His hand was small for a man’s and he set down the glass he’d been holding. It was filled with Whiskey. She could tell from the deep amber color what it was, it was her father’s drink of choice and she would know it anywhere. Her eyes watched as he ran his hands over his hair, the brown strands were now shoulder length and she had the strangest urge to run her fingers through the strands.
More like tug your hands through his hair while he sinks deep inside of you. She flushed at the vulgarity in her own thoughts and looked down at her own drink - gin and tonic, neat. She stared into the colorless liquid and lost herself in its depths trying to ignore the seductive call of the man only a few places down from her. It should have concerned her that she was out in a pub; respectable women such as herself did not do that.
“Perhaps you’re not as respectable as you would like everyone to think.” The words were whispered against her ear and the warm breath of the speaker sent a shudder through her. She turned to give him a piece of her mind, not even realizing he had read her thoughts, and stopped when she saw who’d spoken. It was him. The man that oozed sex from across the bar top. She twitched nervously in her seat, hoping he couldn’t see the lustful flush on her cheeks or notice as her eyes dropped immediately to his crotch. His erection was undeniable, and rather large if the bulge in his straight-leg trousers was anything to go off of. Instinctively, she squeezed her thighs together as a wave of desire passed through her so strong she thought she would wind up in his arms from the intensity of it.
“That, sir, is not how you speak to a lady.” Her voice was confident, not betraying the sinfulness in her thoughts.
He grinned down at her, his lips twisted into a playful smirk and she almost laughed at how charming he looked. “We were actually discussing just how much of a lady you might be.” He ran the slightest touch of his fingertips over the nape of her neck before placing a kiss at the base of the column of her throat. She gasped. His actions were outrageous. She would be looked upon as a common whore if she didn’t pull free from his grasp immediately. But she couldn’t. His hands were gently massaging her shoulders while his mouth nipped and then kissed her right shoulder. Eliza closed her eyes and sucked in a breath, it was all she could do not to moan in pleasure. Little tingles of electricity raced through her body wherever his lips touched and her mind wondered what it would be like if he touched her where she was craving it most.
“Sir, please I am not that kind of a lady. I do not even know how I came to be alone in a pub.”
He kissed her shoulder once more before pulling away and sitting beside her. “The answer to that, Eliza, is quite simple. A dream.”
She stared at him, her mouth a gape and laughed. “Really, sir, I think I would know when I am dreaming. They have a certain feel to them. A certain emptiness that this situation is not warranting.” As if to prove her point she picked up her drink and tossed it back, gagging slightly at the bitter taste as it went down. “See, as such. I am not a gin drinker and the taste left something unpleasant b
ehind. Dreams do not have tastes.” Her eyes watched his as they moved from side to side. She wasn’t certain, but she got the feeling he was looking at her, assessing her even. She looked down and saw that she was still in her work attire, a cotton loose top and male’s breeches. Nothing that would make her look like a lady of the night. He paused, simply stopped looking at her and smiled again, a smile that sent both chills and a round of desire through her.
“They do when I make them.” He stood up from the stool beside her then and pushed it out.
He reached his right hand out to her and she hesitated, looked at it before slipping her hand into his. There was something about him. She couldn’t put her finger on it. At moments, his eyes seemed to lack a soul and others they seemed to be so full of passion and playfulness she couldn’t imagine what had sent chills through her the moment prior. But a dream? She opened her mouth, was going to question him when he let his head tuck down and placed his lips over hers.
The minute he kissed her everything flooded back, like a damn whose wall was crumbling from the pressure of a slamming rush of water. She’d seen him before in dreams. It was never real. Never ever real. For nights now she’d dreamed of this man and how she’d forgotten she’d never know. “A dream,” she whispered, completely unaware the words had slipped out. She had no clue how a dream could feel this real, or why he would claim it was his doing.
“Yes, Eliza, a dream. A wonderful, sexy dream that should it not be you here with me, would end in death.” His words held no malice, but his eyes had that soulless look again.
She took a step back, toward the bar top and cried out as her ankles hit something and she landed on her arse. On a bed.
Startled, she jerked her head from side to side. The pub was gone. They were in a lavish room, akin to something they might find in the guest quarters of her parent’s home. The bed linens were a rich golden color and too many fluffed pillows lined against the headboard. The carpeted floor looked lush and she wanted to squish her toes around in it just to see, but she refrained. Light streamed in through the windows and confusion deepened. But it really would have to be dream, places don’t just disappear and she was certain this man, this deadly sexy and perhaps just deadly, man hadn’t slipped her anything. It truly was a dream, of course it would be though. Men like him never showed the smallest hint of interest in a lady who liked to roll around in grease and oil all day. So of course, it would have to be a dream for him to look at her as if she was the tastiest morsel in the room.