Compared to him, Charles appeared distinctly savage.
The doppelganger bowed, low and elegant, and when he straightened, eyes filled with mirth met hers. They were such a deep emerald, she felt she was drowning in a sea of jewels. “A distinct pleasure to meet you, my lady.” He grinned.
Charles’s looks. Charles’s voice. Yet the doppelganger was … more.
More powerful. More elegant. More ... Charles.
A corner of the doppelganger’s mouth tilted mischievously, and when he spoke, it was with the ease of requesting a dance. “I have a proposition.”
She pushed herself off the door and glowered at him. “You have been trying to kill me. Why?”
To her annoyance, his boyish face lit with amusement. “Why not?”
Berd almost choked. “I beg your pardon?”
At that, the doppelganger’s face creased with laughter, and he did it so much better than Charles. There were no lines of worry at the corners of his eyes, no parched lips. The doppelganger cleared his throat and then perfectly serious, spoke as if in answer to his own question, “You are killing him.”
That gave her pause. “What? Why would I want to kill him?” It seemed easier to refer to Charles in the third person, especially if she was supposed to be killing him.
To add to Berd’s confusion, the doppelganger’s eyes widened in mock disbelief. “And you ... you wished to program me?”
Program him? The only thing that could possibly be programmed was the Engine, which could only mean… she was talking to the Engine itself. The Engine, in the guise of the doppelganger, who’d run circles around her.
Berd placed her hand on her throat, discomfited, but she had to confirm this. “Who are you?”
“Gine, my lady. At your service. Think of me as your portable genie.” He held out pristine gloved hands, and winked.
“You are the Engine,” she croaked. It shouldn’t be possible. And yet here it was...
And she was staring at him. Staring in the rudest possible fashion she had ever stared at anyone, or anything; poring hungrily over every inch of him like a starving beggar eyeing her first meal in days. Yet she could not stop.
This was the face of the computer.
The very Engine she’d hoped to program, and here it was. Smiling at her. Talking to her. Insulting her. And yet not a single operation card to be seen. It had even tried to kill her, and now it was doing a stand-up job of befuddling her.
The whole idea seemed absurd. The Engine, standing right there, a living, breathing…
No, not breathing, she realized. It might smile and speak, but its chest never rose or fell. No blush coloured his cheeks. It was no more human than the metal shell surrounding them.
Gine rubbed his cultured hands briskly as she studied him, and she had to admit, to her chagrin, that Charles had done an excellent job in programming Gine. The way he tilted his chin, at just the right angle to portray a raffish demeanour, was perfect. He could conduct lessons. No need for her to teach the Engine anything, not that she had been about to teach Gine deportment. Now she could sympathise with the Luddites – the men and women working in the mills who had been replaced by machines. She knew how they must have felt.
Redundant.
Charles had built her dream. But he had also destroyed it.
“Let’s come to an agreement,” said Gine, his tone cool, confident and civilised.
She frowned. “Agreement?”
“Charles will not survive if he does not partake of the energy. When he was pulled in, he programmed me to do anything I had to in order to save his life. He will not survive the two days before you depart. That is why I must take action.”
‘Take action?’ That sounded more like a euphemism for ‘trying to kill her.’ “Why didn’t he say anything?” she demanded.
Gine raised one brow slowly. “Incredible. You haven’t worked it out yet.”
Just like Charles, Gine had not bothered to answer her question. Apparently, there were no men, breathing or otherwise, who understood the proper decorum of conversation in this place. She would have pressed her case, except she suspected the answer to his question was vitally important to her health.
Then the realisation of what she had done hit her: she had asked Charles to refrain from partaking of the energy, thinking they would soon be out of the Engine and he could easily survive without it. While he, with all his stupid male pride, well, he would do everything to abide by the agreement even if it ... killed him. That had to be it.
“I will speak to him,” she said, wishing she didn’t sound so uncertain.
Gine gave a short laugh. He wiped his eye with one finger. “That will make him more determined not to agree. There is only one way to prevent this.”
Numb, she nodded. Remove the threat. Me. I am an undesired event in the operations and here is the Engine’s Exception Handler. “You want me to leave the Engine.”
The doppelganger beamed expansively like a king. “You are as clever as he said you were. Impressive, my lady. Or should I say, princess?”
“Do not mock a woman you are trying to persuade.” She did not trust him. “I’m not leaving.”
Gine’s eyes widened dangerously. “No?”
It was good to put the Engine on the back foot for a change. “No. How do I know I can believe you? You did try to kill me. Twice.”
“How you’re harping on it. ‘Twice’!” he mimicked. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.”
Before she could protest, Gine tapped her on the tip of her nose with a bare finger.
She hadn’t even seen him remove his glove or take a step forward. One minute she was staring at him as he leaned against the wall opposite, the next his lemon-silk cravat was in her face, as he stood before her, watching placidly as a frisson of electricity razed through her.
She jerked back and screamed as pain shot through her body.
Frantic scrambling was heard from the cabin behind her. Charles!
“Elizabeth!” came Charles’s’ muffled cry, through the door.
Gine bowed. “I will not try anything for twenty-four hours. You decide. After all, you were saying goodbye to him in your own way.”
He pressed himself backwards against the wall. His features greyed and dissolved, and Berd was left staring at blank steel, so eerily like the time he had tried to reach out and grab her.
“I was not trying to kill him,” she muttered to herself, aggrieved, as the door behind her banged open, and Charles burst into the passageway.
He collided neatly into her. Relief washed over his face as he clutched her in his arms, trying to maintain their balance. They spun in a circle before he released her, only to stand on shaky legs in the hall.
“Kill who?” he asked, his eyes widening. He peered around the passageway, which was empty except for the two of them. “You didn’t mean me, did you?” He grinned, brilliantly.
He would have disarmed her with that smile of his, but more important matters owned her. If Gine wanted her gone, he could have killed her. He had demonstrated he could. There had been nothing to stop him. Charles may have appeared all-powerful, but he was weakening, possibly even dying, and Gine was clearly the most powerful player here.
She had to find out what game Gine was playing.
***
The train slowed then came to a halt. A station; a simple slab of steel, in the midst of a metal forest. When Berd took to the platform, she found those trees were growing, just like the blocks.
As she watched, a tower of coiled copper about ten yards to her right, sprouted into a tree. Tendrils unfurled into leaves, while steel bushes bristled up out of the glass-green ground to line their way. Then she caught the calming fragrance of lavender. If the grove was trying to say it wasn’t dangerous, it would have to do far more than this to prove it.
However, dangerous or not, it didn’t appear as if she had a choice, as Charles gave a wave to show their path threaded through the metal grove. If he was brave eno
ugh to venture in, so would she. At least for now, there was no evidence of anything untoward.
She pressed her lips together and nodded, thankful Charles had not offered his arm. After his wink, she had expected him to pursue the matter further. There was of course, the other matter of whether she was killing him.
If, by removing Charles from his sole source of sustenance, she was ‘killing him’, then she could see Gine’s motivation in separating her from Charles. The solution seemed straight forward — she should leave the Engine immediately. But, while she had no qualms in departing the Engine, she had to know what would happen to Charles if she did.
Gine had not said anything about it. If Charles was doomed to remain within the Engine, he would have no choice but to partake of the energy yet again. She would have to live with the knowledge she had left Charles behind to his demise.
She was pulling at her lower lip, trying to decide when Charles reached across as if to take her hand.
She flung her hand out, pretending she had meant to point to a tree shooting up in front of them. “Isn’t that beautiful!” she said, a little too loudly.
“Why, yes.” He coughed, also a little too loudly, into his fist, then turned dutifully to watch the tree.
Balls of gold blossomed at the end of each branch. As they approached, pomegranate-sized metallic apples dropped softly, clinking onto the ground. Orange blossom lovingly scented the air.
“I have never seen trees such as these. And to grow out of what appears solid enamel.”
To her surprise, he answered immediately.
“Well spotted. It is indeed enamel – an excellent insulator.”
“And the green?”
He scratched his nose with his little finger, looking a trifle embarrassed. “Learning from earlier prototypes, it made sense to place the Engine upon a wide board. Far easier to transport when the need arose. And so thanks to the idea of Mother Earth, I painted it green and called it…” He cleared his throat. “The Motherboard.”
“Where life begins.” She tilted her head at him, unable to believe they were actually having a decent conversation. “But how would Gine know about trees?”
Charles shook his head, looking wistful. “From me. Our conversations. Stuck in a laboratory, all he’s ever known really is metal.”
“It sounds almost sad.”
“But now you’ve met him. Gine that is,” he said suddenly.
So Charles had only answered her questions because he wanted something from her. She should have trusted her suspicions. “Yes.”
“May I ask what he said?”
The vulnerability in his tone made her glance at him. Guilt flushed through her. Living in the Engine for a year, it was probably normal for him to think that death could come at any time. And now she shared his fate.
“He promised to behave for twenty-four hours.”
“Might I ask why?”
If only his voice wasn’t velvet. “I presume it was a sort of ... a good-will gesture? Surely you would understand his reasoning. You created him.”
Charles’s response was to peer at the sky. When he spoke, his tone was sombre. “Gine said he would not try anything for twenty-four hours,” he repeated.
She nodded. That was the truth. Not the whole truth, but how could she tell Charles that Gine had thought he would not last two days?
The roof of a building gleamed from amongst the branches of a filigree silver tree. She turned to inquire, to find Charles gazing at her.
“Extremely beautiful,” he whispered. His eyes were the midnight blue of the sky.
Heat rushed up her throat. She glanced away and hurried on. Her boors tapped noisily on the surface of the glass-green path. Then she blinked and rubbed her eyes. It was either her imagination, or the path was imperceptibly widening the distance between her and Charles. Just like the carriages on the train...
When she turned back to look, she saw that Charles had halted to pick up a golden apple. Or at least he tried to. He struggled for a while before abandoning his attempt. How heavy must the apple be, especially if it was solid gold ... or perhaps this was a sign he was weakening.
A corner of his mouth tugged upwards when he saw her observing him, and there was nothing frail in the way he strode after her. They went on, he walking quietly beside her, she viewing the active scenery, but the strange beauty continued to affect her. “I would never have imagined any of this happening inside the Engine.” And she meant it. The metal forest was stunning. And curious.
“Well, Gine is rather remarkable. In his own fashion. Especially when it comes to making apples one cannot eat or pick.”
The sarcasm in Charles’s voice stunned her, and she stole a glance at him but regretted it immediately. Something in the way his eyes gleamed worried her. She was sure he was going to try and kiss her. Before he could close the distance, a copper branch snaked its way between them. Nutmeg spiced the air.
Charles hadn’t forgotten about the wink. He had wanted to kiss her. Thankfully, Gine was keeping them apart.
Charles groaned as he eyed the sky then ducked under the branch. “Are you going to tell me?” His tone was grave, as he propped one hand on his hip.
Golden light fell upon his face, highlighting his features, especially the piercing curve of his brows as he stood lithe and tall in his suit of stunning black leather. He had never looked more serious. Or beautiful. Or sad. The fragrance of lilies filled the air. She sucked in a breath and looked away.
“Gine. What else did he say?”
She stiffened, but their eyes met. And she found herself staring for an eternity.
He could almost be a prince on a quest...
The humming increased, as if an angry dog were growling.
Berd frowned and shook her head, breaking the contact. That humming… she had to determine what was causing it. She tried to recall if she had noticed any humming when she had been speaking with Gine. That humming… Gine…
Horror filled the pit of her stomach. The humming was the humming from the Engine. And the Engine, why the Engine was Gine!
The humming was Gine!
And to think she had been so blind! “I would have thought Gine would have informed you of every single one of his ideas, as he conceived them. You are, after all, his maker,” she accused.
Charles rolled his eyes. “I think Gine would give God a run for His money.”
At that remark, Berd couldn’t help but burst out laughing. She sobered a second later when she felt Charles clasp her hand. How swiftly he had moved! She knew she should pull away, but she didn’t. Unlike everything else in the Engine, he was warm. Breathless, she looked up to find him gazing at her.
His words were half-plea, half-desire. “Don’t, please.”
She swallowed hard, her belly roiling. She dropped her gaze to his chest, following its rapid rise and fall. The black leather of his outfit gleamed strangely in the soft light, as if it were alive. Charles started to bend his head. She poised to run.
“My la—” Before he could proceed, the road beneath Berd reared up, yanking her hand out of Charles’s grasp.
Berd screamed as she was swept up in the air. Arms flailing, she was about to topple when a railing conveniently stretched out in front of her. She grabbed at it, balanced shakily, then turned and stared agog at Charles, who was left behind.
He was swearing furiously, “Gine! You promised!” He flicked a wrist and the path beneath him rose. Like her, he was ensconced on a solid, flat disc, the roadway beneath surging and carrying them forward like a green wave.
Like a damson stone or a pebble, they were bobbing across the surface of a pond. Only instead of skipping up and down, there was merely a forward motion. That motion grew faster. Outlines of trees whirled past and she smelt newly-polished metal as she veered perilously close to the trees on either side.
Berd gasped as the transport she was crouched on swerved and darted dangerously amongst the tops of the trees. Leaves, sharp as knives, flicke
red past her face.
“What do I do?” she yelled, as her transport narrowly missed colliding with a silver branch.
“Control it!”
She ducked, barely avoiding getting sideswiped by another branch full of razor-sharp silver leaves. “How?” she cried back.
“Like that! Use your body. Bend!”
She did, and just in time, as her transport wheeled round the trunk of an enormously tall steel tree. Her heart was in her mouth as she swung from side to side, but her confidence built. Just as she felt in control, two arms grabbed her.
She screamed and lashed out!
Too late did she realise Charles’s transport had come alongside hers, and he had leapt across. She flung her arms out, overbalanced and promptly toppled off the transport.
Charles swore in her ear as he cradled her against him.
The world blurred. The ground loomed up. She covered her eyes, too stunned to do anything but hide her head in her hands. Their bodies smacked into the green-enamelled surface.
She squealed as they barrelled ingloriously along the ground which somehow... softened. When they tumbled to a stop, she was stupefied to find herself still in one piece, though flat on her back, breathing hard from the fright
“Princess, are you all right?” His blue eyes were wild with concern, as wild as his hair falling around his face. Weight lifted as he rolled off her.
She had never had such fun and such a fright in her life! Unable to stop the spinning inside her head, she clutched at his waving hand and to her great embarrassment, snorted.
“It’s not true! It’s not true, you know. You can go faster than thirty miles per hour and not have brain madness!” She giggled, feeling truly like she had gone mad, unable to stop laughing. Maybe she had spoken too soon, judging by the way she was unable to stop.
“Forty,” he said in a tight voice, staring at her as if horrified he had lost her. “We were going at forty miles per hour.”
The stars in her head fled. She released his arm, snapped her mouth shut, and sat up, brushing her hair out of her face with her fingers. “I should have put it up before we left the train. Look at me. What a mess! Look at me. I a—”
The Ghost Engine Page 10