The power-cycle rattled violently and Ashton holstered the gun. He fought to control the ascent, his hands gripping the handlebars with white-knuckled determination. At the peak of his flight, his headlight passed over the shocked Miss Blackburn and he tugged on the lever near his knee extending the bat-wing foils on either side of the cycle. The gunpowder burned through and he banked in a controlled dive for the building just as she reached the end of the zip line and toppled onto the roof. He clattered down with a bone-rattling crash.
Retracting the wings, he jumped from the still skidding cycle. The grappling hook pulley continued to wind, dragging Miss Blackburn across the gravel as she thrashed in and out of moonlit shadows. Ashton reached for her only to dive at the last moment when she brandished a tracer gun. A short burst seared past his temple slamming into the brick behind him. The rooftop light glowed to life. Someone obviously heard the commotion.
“Stand down,” he shouted, noting the terrified but determined expression on her face. She kept the barrel trained on him despite being pulled inexorably toward the wall. “I am trying to assist you.”
“You’re one of the attackers,” she yelled and fired on him again. “Release my father!”
Grateful for her shaking hand, he barely moved and the burst hit the gravel a good yard from his leg. The line wound completely, trussing her with one arm up, off of her feet as she dangled against the wall.
“I am not.” Ashton put his hands up in surrender. “I assure you.”
“Keep away.” She did not seem to know whether to keep her gaze on him, the building opposite, or the grappling hook that held her prisoner. The oversized cloak rustled as she struggled.
“They’ll be on us in moments, Miss Blackburn.” Ashton rose slowly, walking toward her with forced calm. “We must get off of this building.”
“You know who I am?” The tracer gun wavered with her uncertain look.
“I came for your father, Colonel Blackburn.”
“He’s…he’s…” Her face crumpled into a sob.
Ashton took the moment to rush over and disengage her wrist from the leather strap. She dropped to her feet, nearly going down, but he caught her with an arm around her waist. Taking the tracer gun, he secured it to the bandolier that crossed his chest. He glanced back at the brownstone and saw the movement of the security solders within. One hooded figure peered out at them, turning to shout. In the distance, the slashing light of a dirigible lamp flitted across the sky. The Aero Squad had come to assist the soldiers.
“Quickly, Miss Blackburn.”
“But my father—”
“Now!” He grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward the cycle.
“But where are they taking him?”
“I don’t know.” Ashton kept his gaze on the building.
An Aero Squad dirigible now hovered over her roof.
He turned to face her. “But we must leave.”
She clung on, shaking as she let him lift her onto the seat. She bunched her skirts, sitting astride. He climbed aboard, rose up, and slammed the kick-start down. The cycle rattled to life, the last of the reserve gunpowder igniting and stirring the power. Steam coughed out of the rear pipe glowing against the inky sky. Testing the throttle, the cycle jerked forward, revving as the pistons pumped.
“Are we…” she stared wide-eyed at him.
“Pull this lever when I tell you,” he said and pressed her palm around the metal bar. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Her eyes clear, she gave him a resolute nod.
“Hold on,” he ordered and felt her arms wrap across his middle, her cheek against his back.
“I’m ready,” she croaked.
Pushing off with his boots, he aimed the cycle’s headlight for the edge of the building and they sped forward. Ashton reached into the utility pouch at his hip. He pulled an impact grenade from its depths, released the tension coil, and hurled it at the retaining wall. It exploded on contact. Bits of brick and grout blasted back at them as he sped toward the hole. They soared off the roof, the weight of the cycle sending them into a plummet.
“Now!”
Her body shifted and then the wings shot outward, the frames groaning with the stress of their descent. The cycle angled sharply when he pulled the throttle, evening out with a shudder. He strained to see the ground, dragging back on the handles before falling level with the street and shooting past the soldiers running across the road. Ashton flicked the small lever at his thumb and the wings disengaged, tumbling behind them as they sped away. They clattered in front of a carriage, spooking the horse. It reared, tossing the driver and throwing the cargo all over the street which impeded the chasing soldiers. Ashton took aim, fired at another passing carriage. The blast from his tracer gun sent the driver veering off the road. It collided with a line of advancing security soldiers, taking them out as it skidded to a stop.
He peered back over his shoulder at the sound of another volley of tracer blasts, but they were too far. Miss Blackburn squeezed him, her body shaking against his. She did not utter a word.
He whipped around a corner onto the next street and slowed, careful to blend into the slower pace of the steam taxis and horse-drawn carriages still on the road. Taking them in a circuitous route, he doubled back to be sure no one could follow. They needed to get out of sight. Middle of the night or not, a man with a lady sitting astride the back of this strange machine would surely be remembered. An idea formed, and he turned and steered for the abandoned train yard at the edge of the domed territory—a rough area with beggars and thieves. He swept the landscape with his gaze when they arrived, only slowing to a stop when they reached the gated entrance.
Ashton cut the engine, breath ragged as he listened out into the night. Miss Blackburn remained stone still behind him, her grip on him a vise. After a few moments, he turned, trying to see her over his shoulder. “We walk from here.” Ashton kept his voice soft and peeled her arms from his chest. “Are you able?”
“Yes, I—I think so.” She panted, eyes wide. “That was…that was...”
“You’re sure?” He dismounted, extended his hand, and helped her from the cycle.
She wobbled on her feet, steadied, and pulled away to smooth her cloak. “I’ve never,” she fought for breath. “I was just flying through the air…twice.”
She did not show signs of fainting. All told, she seemed to have handled the whole of the situation quite well. Ashton looked at her askance. Figures. “My name is Ashton Wells,” he said softly, lifted his goggles, and leaned down to catch her gaze. “And I am sorry I could not get to your father in time.”
She bit her lower lip, not taking her pale eyes from him even as she struggled to control what must be a flood of sorrow. She nodded toward the power-cycle. “I—I’ve never seen a mechanized horse before.”
“It is a power-cycle.” He ran his palm along the curve of the seat. “The only one of its kind.”
“Where did you get it?”
“I made it,” Ashton said and frowned. A ragged hole scarred the engine casing and acrid smoke seeped out. He’d taken a blast after all. “Such as it is.”
“It saved us. You saved us.” She fixed him with a strange expression before wrapping herself tighter in the cloak. “Thank you. I owe you my life.”
“A debt you’ll no doubt repay with the information I need,” he said and pushed on the handlebars, leveraging his weight to move the cycle into the bushes off the gate path. It was of no use to him now. “Answers I’d hoped to get from your father.”
“Information?”
Nodding, he covered it with branches, concealing it from view as best he could. “We worked together, for the O.S.S.”
“I’m sorry?” She looked confused.
“Order of the Sword and Scroll,” Ashton said and cleared his throat. She favored him with a bewildered look so he continued, “We’re a society of intelligence officers from several agencies…”
“Why would my father know about spies?”
>
“Because he is one,” Ashton searched her puzzled face. “Or was one, for most of his life. There are family legacies within The Order. Surely you know about this…”
“I would if it were true.”
“You think I went through all that trouble just now only to lie to you?” Ashton looked at her, flabbergasted.
“I honestly can’t say what you would do. We’ve only just met. I do know, however, that my father is a man of science. He is a chemist. He served as a doctor in the war, but—”
“Yes, and as a spy working with contacts in the middle states.” Images of Roland, a tracer gun blast leaving a hole where his heart had been, flashed in Ashton’s mind. He cleared his throat against the ache. “Your father was to meet with one of my men a few days ago. The Colonel never showed and my man is dead. Now, where is your brother?”
“Brother? I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Colonel Blackburn sent out an alarm.” Careful to keep the anger from his voice, he pressed. “I was told Charlie would have the information we seek.”
“By whom?” She stared at him, dark hair tousled about her head.
He ignored her question. “Where is Charlie Blackburn?”
“No. That’s not right—” She shook her head.
“Miss Blackburn, we do not have time for this,” Ashton snapped and rubbed his eyes, exhausted.
She bit her lip, eyes filling, she was close to tears. He felt like a cad. She’d only just been attacked and spirited through the night by a complete stranger. If he did not need the answers so desperately…
“Please, I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t have a brother,” her voice quaked. “Why did the soldiers attack us? Th—they aren’t supposed to do that.”
“I believe your father discovered something terrible.” Ashton searched her face for signs of deception. She stared back at him, fearful and confused, but not lying. There was no brother. He fought the frustration welling in his gut. The Union Soldiers had Blackburn and he had nothing.
“What do you mean, terrible?”
“Something horrific is already happening here. I had hoped your father could help me figure out how to stop it.”
“Stop what?” She followed after him when he strode toward the railway.
“Monsters.” Turning, he straightened his leather vest with a tug, and fixed his gaze on hers. “Something is making monsters of men.”
6
I scrambled to keep up with Ashton’s long strides. His tailcoat flapped between legs encased in dark trousers. The buckles on his boots clinked with each step. Deep brown hair fell nearly to his chin in a manner not unlike gentlemen I’d seen returning from safari, where the wild blunted the edges of society’s expectations. He frowned, murmuring to himself.
“You said ‘monsters’…” The bloody man flashed in my head and the hairs on my arms stood. “I—I saw one. At Rothfair’s place.”
“Yes.”
“You were there. Do you know what it is?”
“I have yet to get a good look. Through the crowd this night is the closest I’ve been.”
“My father knows about this?” I wiped at my wet eyes with shaking hands. Spies and soldiers, secrets and monsters, it was too much. “I cannot believe he would keep something like this from me.”
“He assured us he had proof of something heinous afoot in New York, but that was all that your father divulged,” Ashton said over his shoulder. “He was to explain and hand over proof a few days ago, but disappeared instead.”
“Proof.” The journal pressed against my chest, encased in the bodice. My father wanted me to find Collodin, the tinkerer responsible for making his gear-work leg, but how? I’d not seen him in years. I thought he was dead. My father refused to talk about him even when his knee jammed and he had to go for weeks without walking until I figured out how to make it work again. He’d told me Collodin was gone. Assuming his friend died in the quakes, I let it go. Why would they cease speaking if he lived? Still, I did not know Ashton at all and resolved to keep the journal secret for now.
“Yes, proof.” He glanced at me.
“I am sorry, I…”
“This does not make sense.” His dark brows knit.
“Why is there nothing in the daily bulletins about this?”
“No doubt the censors would scrub any mention of this from the aether.”
“You assume the News Bureau would have some reason to hide this. Why would they?”
“Panic. I don’t suppose you noticed how efficiently the soldiers dealt with the creature attacking your carriage. That was not the first they’d encountered, I assure you.”
“But in here? There are rumors of strange attacks in the wasteland, but inside the domes? I wonder if the other city-states have reported anything.”
“Not yet. The Order has informants at all levels of government and so far there’s been no word except for here.”
“Where are we going?” I peered over my shoulder, certain a snarling face would be there, and stumbled on a gouge in the dirt. His arm shot out steadying my elbow.
“To safety, I hope.”
We strode amongst the rusted rails and cars of the decrepit train yard. The dome looked different out here on the edge of the city. Gaps in the grid crackled and hissed as acrid vapor seeped in through the small breaches. The mist stung my nose and made my eyes water. Had the dome always been like this? So…penetrable from the outside?
Ashton pulled something from his inner pocket.
“What is that?” Opening his glove, he revealed a small mechanized firefly, and then wound it as he eyed me silently. It hummed to life, the metal wings twitching against his palm. An iridescent glow flickered alight in its abdomen, flashing in a repeating pattern. He released it and it sputtered, dipping and swerving in the air with a faint buzz, before rising into the night. “Oh, it’s a signal…Morse?”
He nodded. “She should see it and come.”
“Who? Someone in The Order?”
“Not, exactly…” His gaze slid from mine.
“But the Union Security Soldiers have my father.” I swallowed hard. “My Aunt Sadie, do you think—”
“I’ve learned your aunt was set to board a steamer, but it is not yet clear if she made it.”
Poor Aunt Sadie. I hoped she was safe.
“They took him because they want to know what he discovered?”
“Yes, but he won’t tell them.”
“Why not? If he knows what this is—”
“It is more complicated than that, Miss Blackburn. He is associated with The Order. That brands him a spy and an enemy of the Peaceful Union.”
“But he is only a chemist.” The terror of what they might do to him stole my breath.
“I beg to differ, but no matter. The Colonel would never betray what he knows to the Governors.”
“I don’t understand,” I cried. “Why would he withhold vital—”
“We don’t know who is involved at this point!” He stopped walking, his hands balled at his sides. “That was the reasoning behind keeping this within The Order!” He blew out a breath, shaking his head. “I apologize. You are clearly not privy to your father’s thoughts on this. It is not fair to blame you.”
His remarks stung, but in a manner, he was not wrong. I was completely in the dark.
“How will you get my father back?”
“That is not…that is not the priority.”
“You cannot be serious,” I gasped, but the look in his eyes told me it was true.
“They could have taken him to any number of stations or facilities for questioning.”
“Then find out where.”
“We will try, but…”
A strangled moan escaped my lips. He’d known. My father knew he was lost and entrusted the book to me. He’d chosen not to meet with Ashton’s man for a reason. Was it just the one man or did that mean I could not trust The Order in its entirety? Ashton included.
“T
hen what are you going to do?”
“If the Union Soldiers have the same information I do, then they will search for you, perhaps as leverage to make your father talk. I cannot allow that to happen.”
“Wait one moment.” I stopped walking. “What is it exactly that you aim to do with me, then?”
“I intend to stash you far away and keep you there.”
“And what if I refuse?”
“Why would you refuse?” He looked at me, bewildered, and I almost laughed.
“Because I just escaped capture. Why would I agree to it now?”
“Capture…” He crossed his arms. “I am not abducting you, Miss Blackburn, I am ensuring your safety.”
“Safety? You hurled us off a roof…after making it explode! Why would I trust you to keep me safe?”
A noise in the wind stopped his retort. Instead he put his arm out, urging me to walk. “We must make haste, Miss Blackburn. There are only so many places for us to go. They would know that.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” He didn’t break stride; instead, he propelled me to walk faster with the steady pressure of his palm at the small of my back. “You were following me.”
“As a last resort. In a recent letter to your aunt, The Colonel referred to a son, Charlie. I assumed either your father or brother would attend the ball with you.”
“Charlie is short for Charlotte. M—my father called me Charlie in private.”
“I see.” Ashton paused, his gaze brushing my face before resuming his pace. “I assumed you were Charlie’s twin, hence the similar names.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint, but for a cohort in this ‘Order’ you know very little of my father’s personal life.”
“Yes, he took pains to keep it thus.” He glanced down at me, a frown on his lips. “In any case, I heard that your father intended to join you at the opera. Why was he not with you?”
“He went to an unexpected meeting a few days ago. He only just returned.” I bit my bottom lip, debating if I should divulge seeing the electro-rail ticket to Pennsylvania.
“A few days ago? Then he never intended to meet with Roland. Do you know where he went?”
The Tremblers Page 5