Nanashi reclaimed his sight from the rodent, forcing his own eyes to open. The usual fleeting moment of confusion jarred him, then he focused on the writing desk ahead. Just as his sharpening vision located the mouse, it looked up, then twisted and fled under the desk. An instant later he saw a blur of movement through the doorway, heard the swish of a whirling bo.
With blinding speed the strange guard sprung into view. He bounded forward, filling the doorway, swinging one end of his staff at Nanashi’s head.
Nanashi barely dodged the blow. A wave of displaced air struck his eyes and he flinched as the staff hit the sliding door beside him with a loud thwack, snapping the wooden edging, tearing through paper squares.
Before Nanashi could respond, the attacker pulled his weapon clear then deftly drove it into a fearsome, humming spin. The bo’s tip became a blur, closing with Nanashi’s temple!
Nanashi ducked under the whistling tip of the hardwood staff, then tumbled forward into a tight roll, brushing past the guard’s leg and into the last room. Staying low, he turned and swung a cut at the guard’s legs, but the bo ceased turning and dropped hard and fast to block the blade, which bit deeply into its wood. Wrenching his sword free, Nanashi rose, skipping backward to the writing desk, eyes wide at his enemy.
This man was both skilled and ferocious. That bo gave him too much added reach. It had to be neutralized! But how?
The attacker heaved a breath, then dashed across the room, spinning his staff again, moving quickly for one so large. Nanashi shuddered and braced for impact. His opponent bore down on him. The hardwood staff sang through the air, closing horizontally with Nanashi’s neck. His heart thundering now like a drum, he parried upward with the flat of his sword, darted in closer, and aimed a powerful angular cut at the staff itself.
There was a dense splitting-tearing sound, then the bo clunked to the floor as two midget staffs. The large guard spun away in a circle as he drew the sword from his back with startling fluidity. Raising it in a two-handed grip, he started closing the distance between himself and his target at alarming speed, sword whistling as it arced in the air above him, tip poised to fly like lightning at Nanashi’s forehead.
The smell of his own frightened sweat filled Nanashi’s nostrils as he prepared for the response he knew best of all. A crafty set of moves, practiced a thousand times until they had become part of him. Now, his best hope of survival!
Turning one shoulder to the oncoming threat, Nanashi took up a low stance and faced an empty spot off to his opponent’s side, daring the foe to take advantage of his awkward position. Only his eyes remained on course, locked straight ahead, judging the scant moments left before the attacker was close enough to strike.
Suddenly he was.
With desperate control, Nanashi rose fast, turning to face his opponent head-on and pouncing forward. The sudden turn and the change in both height and distance all combined to ruin the guard’s timing. Before the man could slice downward, Nanashi’s sword glided up into a fast, hard cut aimed at his raised forearms.
The blade bit home, folded steel grinding against concealed gauntlets. Focusing his balance and energy, Nanashi pushed with a muted grunt, forcing his opponent one step back. One step would be enough, if he could only make it count. He gulped in air, terrified of making the smallest error. Keeping pressure on the enemy’s gauntlets until the last second, Nanashi whipped his blade back, then drove a powerful vertical cut down at the man’s cloaked shoulder. A riskier target than his head, but the orders were to take no life.
The guard hoisted his sword into a strong block, but was a shade too slow to meet the incoming slice. There was a muffled clang, a sound of tearing cloth. Nanashi’s blade glanced off the man’s shoulder. The sword sliced open the guard’s cloak, revealing the armor underneath, before flailing off to one side. Seizing his scant chance, the guard turned his own sword and lunged, blade leading the stretch of his long arms.
Suddenly the cold flat of its steel pressed at Nanashi’s sweaty neck. He froze, lowering his sword. The guard had him!
a novel by
BIANCA TURETSKY
LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY
New York Boston
“Miss Baxter. Miss Baxter. Wake up, Miss Baxter.”
Louise opened her eyes. Her eyelids were crusted together as if after a long night’s sleep. Her head was pounding, and her mouth felt like it was filled with bitter-tasting cotton balls.
“She’s awake! Wow, Miss Baxter, you gave us all a scare!”
A bright light blinded Louise, and she immediately closed her eyes again. Her head was killing her, the ground was spinning, and why did it sound like this man’s voice was calling her Miss Baxter? She needed to stop the spinning feeling in her head. Where was she? Louise tried to concentrate. She felt a cool breeze; the air smelled fresh and briny.
“Miss Baxter? Please open your eyes again, have a sip of water.”
Louise obeyed the voice. She was looking up at an unfamiliar man with salt-and-pepper hair, a full white beard, and rosy cheeks. He was hovering over her, fanning her face with a newspaper. A man holding an old-fashioned camera with a big flash was standing alongside him. Behind them was a crowd of concerned faces, framed by an expansive bright blue sky.
“Miss Baxter, you gave us quite a scare for a minute there,” the strange man said again, in what Louise detected was a British accent. He was wearing a white, buttoned-up uniform with gold braiding.
“Are we… are we moving?” Louise asked. She felt like she was lying on something hard and splintery.
“Well, I should hope so,” he replied with a chuckle. “If we’re ever to make it to New York City.”
“New York City?”
“Yes, we’re on our way to New York City. Don’t you remember, Miss Baxter?” he asked.
“Please stop calling me that,” Louise pleaded. “Who is Miss Baxter?”
The uniformed man whistled. “This is worse than I thought.” He once again offered Louise a glass of water and continued fanning her with the folded newspaper. Louise accepted the drink, hoping to wash out the unpleasant taste that coated her parched mouth.
“You are Miss Baxter, Miss Baxter,” he replied cheerfully.
Louise thought that if he said that name one more time, she would scream.
“And who are you?” she asked, completely baffled.
“Well, there, Miss Baxter. You don’t remember me, either, do you?”
Louise shook her head. No, she most certainly did not.
“I’m Edward Smith.” He pointed to his gold nameplate. “I’m the captain of this ship.”
“We’re on a ship?” she asked. The rocking motion started to make a bit more sense.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied matter-of-factly. “We left England this morning. Mr. Miller had just taken a group photograph for the Times, and as soon as the flash went off, you collapsed here on the A Deck. The bright light must have startled you.”
“England?” Louise repeated incredulously. She must be dreaming. That was the only logical explanation.
“Yes, Miss Baxter. Don’t worry, though; we’ll be picking up Mr. Baxter at the next port in Cherbourg, France.” Omigod! There was a Mr. Baxter?! This was worse than she thought. She needed to wake up now. Louise closed her eyes tightly and pinched herself, hard, on her right arm. It hurt.
Looking down, she saw that she was lying on a slatted wooden deck chair. She was wearing a pink evening gown and no shoes; her painted red toenails peeked out from under the fabric. Louise tried to prop herself up, becoming a bit self-conscious about the small crowd staring at her.
“Please don’t move, ma’am. We don’t want any more fainting spells. And I don’t want you to cut yourself on the broken glass,” the captain said, gesturing to the floor next to Louise’s chaise. “William! Get someone to clean up this glass immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” a voice from the crowd answered.
Louise glanced to her left and saw a shattered champagne
flute in pieces on the blond wood deck.
“William will help you back to your stateroom just as soon as you feel strong enough.” The captain nodded with authority. “I must get back to my post.”
“Ummm… Thanks… Captain…” Louise whispered, squinting her eyes to try and make out the name, which she had already forgotten, on his polished shiny nameplate.
Confused, Louise grabbed the newspaper from the captain’s hands and unfolded it to the front page.
The Times of London
APRIL 12, 1912
And with that news, she promptly fainted once again.
Louise felt like she was nestled in a cloud, wrapped in something delicate and silky, and she didn’t want to open her eyes and end this wonderful dream.
After lying still for a moment, she heard a rhythmic clicking noise and felt as if someone was staring at her. It was an uncomfortable, penetrating feeling that forced her to open her eyes to see who was disturbing this heavenly moment.
“Ma’am, are you awake?” a girl’s British-accented voice asked hesitantly.
Louise made a grunting noise, the sort of noise you make when you’re half-awake, but you want to pretend you’re still sleeping.
“Thank goodness. Oh, Miss Baxter, I was worried sick,” she squeaked.
When Louise heard the name Miss Baxter, she immediately snapped back to her present reality. Now she remembered quite clearly her last lucid moments. On a ship’s deck; she was on board some boat… one hundred years ago. I must still be dreaming, she thought hazily to herself.
Louise was tucked snugly into a comfortable feather bed, under a pile of royal blue and purple quilts that made it hard for her to sit upright. The four-poster bed she lay in was draped in rich burgundy velvet.
She was not alone in the room. A pretty teenage girl with piercing blue eyes was sitting in a wooden chair at the foot of the bed, knitting. A simple gray dress in an old-fashioned style adorned her slender figure, and a white shawl was tied around her shoulders. Her strawberry blonde hair was pinned back into a tidy bun. Something about her features was weirdly familiar.
“How are you feeling, Miss Baxter? You fainted again on the upper deck. I was terribly worried, ma’am.”
Louise couldn’t believe that this girl, who looked old enough to be in high school, was calling her ma’am. Actually, it was hard to believe that anyone would call her ma’am; she was only twelve years old.
“I’ve changed you into your bedclothes. That dress was most constricting; I thought you should be comfortable,” the girl explained eagerly.
Louise turned an embarrassed shade of scarlet, as she realized that the soft and silky feeling she’d noticed earlier was from the satin fabric of an unfamiliar slip she was wearing. She pulled the quilt up to try and get a better look at herself. She had never worn a silk nightgown in her life, and the thought of this stranger undressing her and changing her into one was mortifying.
“Do you not like the gown, ma’am? Is everything to your taste? I found it in your steamer trunk. I can put another one on you if you’d prefer.”
“No!” Louise answered quickly, alarmed at the sound of her own voice, a bit strange, but very real. “I mean, ummm… no, thank you. That’s fine. And, excuse me for asking this, but… who are you?”
“Oh dear, Captain Smith said your memory was a tad foggy. You don’t remember me?” the unfamiliar girl asked, her knitting needles paused in mid stitch.
“I’m sorry, but no.”
“I am Anna Hard, your maid.”
“My what?” Louise asked, shocked. What is happening?
“Yes, ma’am. Don’t worry; the ship’s doctor said your memory will gradually return. You just need to get your rest. The doctor will be back to check on you in a bit.”
“Anna, where are we?” Louise asked while looking around the elegantly decorated room in awe.
“Why, we’re on the White Star Line headed toward New York. Isn’t it magnificent?”
“I suppose it is,” Louise said as she nodded slowly. And it was. “This is auh-mazing. I just didn’t expect to be here. What if my mom starts to worry?”
“Your mother?” Anna repeated, looking confused as she got up from her chair. “Why, she knows you’re here, ma’am. She was on the dock at Southampton seeing us off.” She placed a cool, wet cloth on Louise’s forehead and handed her a crystal glass filled with water. “Please, ma’am, stay in bed. You need some rest.”
“Well, maybe a little rest would be okay.” Louise sank back into the comfortable downy pillows. Wherever she was, she was definitely getting the first-class treatment. And she certainly didn’t mind missing a day of Fairview, where she got anything but first-class treatment.
“Please, Miss Baxter, stay put. Mr. Baxter will be here shortly. He’ll know what to do.”
Louise had forgotten there would soon be a Mr. Baxter to contend with! “Mr. Baxter?” she inquired, shocked. “You mean I have a husband?”
“Goodness no,” Anna replied, laughing. “Mr. Baxter is your uncle. He also happens to be your manager, in case you’ve forgotten that as well. He’s booked the adjacent suite, as your mother didn’t think it proper for you to travel alone at your age.”
“Thank Gawd,” Louise said with a sigh of relief. She hadn’t
CONTENTS
Front Cover Image
Welcome
Dedication
Read! Set! Adventure!
The Grey Griffins
The Nightmare
PART ONE: DIVIDED
1 Monster Hunters
2 Surrounded
3 The Invitation
4 New Victoria
5 The Agents of Justice
6 Infamous
7 The Mask
8 Rescheduled
9 Roll Call
10 The Relic Hunters
11 Sendak Hall
12 Shared Memories
13 A Surprise Guest
14 A Strange Theory
15 The Aerocar
PART TWO: HUNTED
16 Patrol Duty
17 The Price of Fame
18 Out in the Open
19 Showdown
20 Conversations with the Undead
21 Turnabout
22 If At First You Don’t Succeed
23 Sorry, We’re Closed
24 Unforgiven
25 Round Three
26 Pushing Their Luck
27 Ambushed
28 Joyride
29 Falling
30 Too Late
PART THREE: REUNITED
31 When Flowers Aren’t Enough
32 A Vial of Pills
33 Once More into the Past
34 From Bad to Worse
35 Make the Jump
36 A Sticky Situation
37 The Temple
38 Finders Keepers, Losers Weepers
39 Piano Concerto no. 1
40 In His Defense
41 Eavesdropping
42 Lost
43 Hopeless
44 A One-Way Ticket
45 Through the Looking Glass
Copyright
Copyright
Copyright © 2011 by Grey Griffin Industries, LLC
www.greygriffins.com
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Little, Brown and Company
Hachette Book Group
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Visit our website at www.HachetteBookGroup.com
www.lb-kids.com
Little, Brown and Company is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN: 978-0-316-13452-1
Grey Griffins: The Clockwork Chronicles #2: The Relic Hunters Page 25