The Eidolon

by Tiffany Dominguez

  Three, there would be casualties. As far as she’d observed, Grillett cared for the children just well enough. They had adequate energy to make it through each shift, fed with a clinical precision. Grillett wouldn’t dare allow them to grow stronger to manage the increased work. Never, he would simply increase the influx of children to cover the losses. He would lose many. When would he consider losses unsustainable?

  Fourth, the protestors, the article, the note from Dr. Hoch—it all meant little compared to the drumming of her heart as she thought about facts one through three. Yes, she’d have to be much more careful than usual. Change up her disguise. Approach from a different gate. Take the children at a different time.

  From now on, she’d no intention of involving Matilda. Perhaps not even Clank. No one, not even an automaton would be hurt as a result of what she planned to do.

  * * *

  Several hours later, after staring so hard at Dr. Hoch’s maps of the factory district that she earned a painful headache, Veronica shoved aside the paperweight holding them down. She cringed when the object thudded heavily on the floor.

  Knock. Knock.

  “Peanut dearest, are you quite alright? I hope you’re not doing anything drastic. I’ve been out making calls all morning and I think we can easily make this wedding less torturous than you might imagine.”

  Alec sounded quite unlike his usual droll self—downright cheerful in fact.

  Veronica sighed inwardly and stowed away the maps. “You might as well come in and tell me about it because I know you’ll stand there chattering away about nonsense until I admit I’m here.”

  Her brother tossed the door open with a flourish and sat on her settee. He swung his stick from side to side without looking at her. “Do you at least like him a little? Will life with him be so miserable?”

  Her thoughts, to her dismay, turned to Mr. Marcovic first. Dark, beautiful eyes. Strength. The moment he’d swept her up into his arms when she’d stumbled off the lift. His amusement, his mocking words.

  Shoving those ridiculous ideas aside, she turned her thoughts to Durad. To this afternoon. The security of her hand tucked in his elbow, how he’d ordered her a second ice after she’d polished off the first. She remembered the shine in his eyes as he spoke of Sombor. And then when he’d turned that beam on her, how she couldn’t help getting a little caught up in his passion for his country. Even if most of the conversation eventually steered toward dirigibles, and Grillett’s latest glass. Durad’s enthusiasm over the potential protection of his soldiers and military was endearing enough to overshadow her hatred for the manufacturer of the product. In that particular moment anyway.

  “No, Alec, life with Durad would not be unpleasant. He seems to be a very amiable, caring, generous person. He’s never been less with me.”

  Alec leaned forward. “But?”

  But she didn’t plan on getting married. Perhaps ever. Especially not while she had work to do. Anyway, a quiet, content marriage—who’d ever heard of such a thing? Certainly not for a lady of her rank, who must choose among so few qualifying candidates. Marital bliss existed only in theory, in fables, in the minds of those men who proposed and women who accepted. Even if there was a chance for it with Durad, how could she take it and leave her children behind? The thought that so many remained behind would surely haunt her until she went mad.

  “But I don’t want this right now.”

  “You don’t want him? Or marriage?”

  She shrugged.

  Alec tilted his head to the side and observed her for a moment. “I think you’re right on one count. For some inexplicable reason, you really don’t want to marry anyone. Whether it be some sort of twisted guilt at grabbing any chance of happiness—thanks to the life long misery you wear as neatly as my cravat—or whether Durad’s failed to inspire you, I’m not sure.”

  She glanced away.

  “Either way, this entire thing could be much worse—you could be married off to one of Papá’s wrinkled, old generals or a twit that cares for nothing but the track like me. So, let’s make the best of this, shall we?” Alec tapped his stick on the floor.

  She forced a smile. “I’m sure you already have a plan and care not for my feelings on the matter.”

  He grinned, looking much like the brother she’d always wished for.

  Chapter Twenty

  The day after

  Steam streamed from the pipes jutting out from the factory buildings like a high-powered waterfall, shrouding the streets in a thick, white mist. Yellow spheres floated in the air, the gas lamps glowing with a sooty light. The factories hummed a tired song, churning hour after hour. Emil crouched on the guard roof by gate thirteen just as the massive clock in the nearby tower rang three times, signaling a quarter to midnight.

  Watching the scene before him, the night of his and Durad’s escape from the factory rose to the front of his mind. The bond they’d formed during those few, eternal hours created an unbreakable trust between them. Even though Emil had left for a time, Durad forgave him—it could not end otherwise. They’d risked it all for each other once, their lives were now forever intertwined. Even if Durad temporarily wore blinders. Emil would see them removed. After the wedding, he’d stay until Durad showed some sense.

  Emil turned to the gate in front him. From what he’d gathered from his reconnaissance flights a few days ago, it proved to have very little activity. All the others creaked back and forth, ushering in and out steam carriages that pulled trailers, locked and bolted. For some reason, this gate sat quietly, with barely one shipment leaving every hour. It made him wonder if the Eidolon had noticed the anomaly. But even if he had, would the Eidolon dare show, after the demonstrations and the bounty?

  Emil rubbed the scars on his wrist. No, the Eidolon wouldn’t cease his “rescues.” If the man dared enough to dress like a thief and wield a Tesla-ray, he probably wouldn’t chafe at a little bad publicity.

  And if he did? He wouldn’t be the first person to abandon the children.

  Emil glanced down at his scars and lifted them up into the light. The raised skin circling his wrists brought back memories of another night as well. Slim, strong fingers rubbing his skin. A soft voice filled with conviction and righteous anger, and then compassion after hearing his story. And a kiss that nearly happened…

  The night of the masque.

  Emil shook his head. By the heavens, he’d liked the girl Veronica had been that night. Soft in his arms, yet sharp of wit. Smelling of rosewater.

  He wanted to smack himself. What was he thinking? Veronica had the ability to plague his thoughts like, well, the plague.

  His ludicrous line of thought nearly made him miss the opening of the gate for a large, ancient, traditional carriage, it’s wheels protesting on the cobbled streets. He lifted his scope, examining the vehicle. As it passed through, he caught a flutter of fabric on the far side. A cape.

  He snapped his scope back together, slid it into his pocket and leapt down from the roof. He’d been right, of course.

  The Eidolon was here.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The day after

  “Did you hear about the protest today?” Alec waved a hand carelessly. “Of all the important matters of our time to object to, why did it have to be that fascinating Eidolon chap? Just when I thought all conversation at the club would forever center on war, we finally got an interesting subject to discuss. And now we want to get rid of him?”

  Veronica placed a delicate bite of smoked salmon in her mouth at that particular moment so she’d be spared from responding. Alec’s attitude toward the Eidolon had certainly changed. Of course, the gossip on the streets and through Hyde Park was nothing but the Eidolon. How that monster stole those poor orphans! And poor Lord Grillett! How could he be expected to defend all of those children against such a sneak thief? Bless my soul, the man should be caught and hanged straight away! And of course, when speaking of Lord Grillett, have you heard of his new glass ship?


  She chewed slowly, trying to keep her temper in check. At least Alec wouldn’t cart the Eidolon off to prison, even if his reasons were not what she could hope.

  “The Queen has assigned her top men to the job. She’s formidable when opposed, you can count on it,” her papá said. He dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “Enough of this nonsense. Veronica, how are you progressing with Prince Durad?”

  With her papá’s sharp eyes focused directly on her, Veronica knew she should answer in a demure, polite manner. She knew she should highlight the compliments Durad had given her. But it had not been a good day, and she ached all over from the restraint she’d shown so far. If only she could calmly produce her Tesla-ray during dinner and stun that look right off of her Papá’s face.

  “Marvelously,” she responded in a neutral tone.

  The Duke was too disciplined to slam his fist on the table. Instead, his eyes flashed fire and he said calmly, “I stopped by your Bridges earlier today. Met a charming young girl, Agnes I think it was?”

  She closed her eyes briefly and her anger died. The children. Bridges. The funding. Of course. Her temper was never her ally, one day she would remember that.

  Forcing a smile, Veronica said, “My apologies, papá. My reply was unforgivably rude. Yes, the Prince and I are getting along very well. He’s expressed true interest in me and has begun making plans for our future together. I could not be more pleased.” The words were all right, but they felt wrong coming out of her mouth.

  Her papá nodded, the movement jerky. “The Queen will want to know the good news.” After a moment’s pause, he continued, “Veronica, in light of these current events, I would like to move up the wedding. Say to next week?”

  Veronica could only stare.

  Alec dropped his fork with a clatter. “Impossible.”

  The Duke looked impatient. “You have unlimited resources, make this happen, Alec.”

  “But —” Veronica started.

  The Duke interrupted, his words cascading in a cultured and bitter flow. “Child, you are to obey me on this. There will be no discussion, no bargains. In spite of my best efforts, I’ve raised a simpleton who is only capable of speaking to children and cares nothing for anything important. I tire of the endless gossip about your inability to dress yourself or carry on the most basic of conversation. I will be rid of you once and for all. And for heavens sake, for once in your life, you will do something worthy of the Richmond name. This is your final test and for once, you will pass.”

  When Alec and Veronica opened their mouths to speak again, the Duke slashed his hand through the air. “I hear Lord Grillett is in need of some more volunteer workers to help him with his increased orders. I could, perhaps, take him by the Bridges to enlist?”

  There was no air. Breathe. Breathe! Veronica swallowed the words she longed to say, laced with anger and threats.

  No. She simply couldn’t. She’d been mistaken to provoke the Duke. She averted her eyes down to her lap in a show of submission. Now that her children felt safe, secure—now that they felt hope, she could not let Grillett anywhere near them. He’d recognize them. And then it wouldn’t take him long to link Veronica to the Eidolon. Everything she’d worked for would be gone.

  She’d do whatever her papá said to avoid such a fate. Even if it meant marrying Durad and losing her freedom. How could she have thought, for even a moment, she could escape her Papá’s orders?

  The Duke tossed his napkin on the table. “Saturday next.”

  She nodded, not daring to speak.

  And then he left.

  A set of arms lightly pulled her to a standing position. Alec embraced her, his chin resting on her head. He felt surprisingly strong in the areas where she expected him to be soft. “Now there, sister. We’ll figure a way to make this work. You’ll still have a smashing wedding. And those little orphans of yours will be still be safe as houses.”

  She wanted to laugh and cry all at once. While Alec encased her in a security she rarely felt, it was not nearly enough to sooth her worries, her fears. Still, she leaned her head into his chest.

  “I don’t have a choice,” she whispered. Of course Durad was attractive and charming, but Veronica had never intended leaving her orphans to go to Sombor. What of the Eidolon’s work?

  Alec patted her back, and squeezed her tighter. “I don’t know what kind of deals you’ve made with papá, darling sister, but perhaps it’s time you enlightened me.”

  Over Alec’s shoulder, Veronica saw Matilda’s head appear in the doorway. She motioned Veronica out of the room with a frantic wave of her hand. Her pale face then vanished, leaving Veronica even more unsettled.

  She eased out of Alec’s embrace and placed both hands on either side of his face. “Thank you, Alec,” was all she said before she dropped a kiss on his cheek and left the room. His eyes looked clear and sad, as though he knew it too late for him to help.

  In the hallway, Matilda tossed Veronica’s wrap around her shoulders and headed toward the barn, her shoes barely skimming the floor. Veronica kept pace close behind, her mind moving as fast as her feet. Where were they going? What else could go wrong this morbid evening?

  Hale waited by the steam carriage, which already hummed and jittered, much like Matilda.

  “For heavens sake, Matilda. What’s the matter that you drag me from supper like a naughty child?” Veronica couldn’t help her sharp tone. Matilda had her heart doing flips.

  Matilda shooed her into the carriage. “It’s Agnes, my lady. She’s doing very poorly. She may not last the hour.”

  Veronica settled down on the bench, a pressure squeezing her chest and weighing her down until she felt as heavy as the bundle of coal Hale had just shoveled into the engine’s firebox. “What’s the matter with her?” she asked quietly, even though she already knew. Agnes’s mind, much like a refined metal, had been heated too hot and then beaten with a heavy hand until it broke apart. It was too young, too tender to see all she had seen, no matter that her body survived.

  Matilda simply stared at Veronica, her eyes wet. Tears dripped down her cheeks each time she blinked, yet she made no sound. She’d been particularly fond of their little doe-eyed new girl.

  Veronica spent the ride to Bridges with an anger building inside her, coal upon coal, until she felt nothing but a fiery rage at Grillett and her papá. Grillett for his obvious crimes, her Papá for constantly threatening her children and for arranging a marriage that would separate her from them.

  When they reached the block before Bridges, Veronica leapt out of the carriage and scurried down the alleyway. Matilda followed without her usual complaints about the undignified conditions of the route.

  Mistress Phillips waited by the servants’ door. She ushered them inside and then shut it tightly behind them, flipping the lock. Her stern face had little remaining color, save the red that ringed her eyes. “Come, hurry, she’s nearly gone.”

  She led them up the stairs to the recovery wing, worry hastening her usually deliberate, methodical movements. Inside the Peach Room, Agnes lay on a small cot, a pink blanket embroidered with daises covering her tiny frame. The skin on her face had stretched even further until her cheekbones jutted out in sharp relief and her eyes were impossibly large. She appeared to have aged a hundred years in the week since Veronica had last seen her.

  “She took a turn a few days ago. Vanished inside herself. Wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t eat. We can’t get her to drink anything either.” Mistress Phillips blew her nose into a handkerchief. “Just decided she would have nothing more of this world. Going on to join the angels, she is.”

  Veronica took Agnes’ hand, remembering how small and trusting it had felt the first time she met her. It now seemed so cold. “Grab another blanket,” she ordered.

  Mistress Phillips started at her sharp tone.

  “Please,” Veronica added. She stroked Agnes’ cheek. Such a sweet light, such innocence. Veronica had borrowed her name. That shy smile when Agnes realized Veronica wa
nted her help, was asking for it. The delight in her eyes when she heard the ending of the Melilot’s story.

  And now, like Melilot’s parents, she would soon lay in a cold grave, instead of celebrating a re-birth of life and circumstance.

  This, THIS fueled the machine that slaked the Ton’s lust for steamtech and the EurAsian wars. Surely Grillett did the devil’s own work, for how could suffering like this ever be justified? Just because England could not see the truth did not make it a lie.

  Matilda now sobbed softly on the other side of the bed, her eyes so full of tears she looked as though she could hardly see.

  With one last sigh, Agnes fell still. At least God had eased her passing from this world, a small yet significant mercy. Veronica dropped one remaining kiss on her forehead and stood. Mistress Phillips rushed back into the room, her arms laden with blankets. “My lady, this is all I could find—”

  When she saw Agnes, she dropped her bundle. She cried out, the sound so heavy with agony, it seemed as though it too fell to the floor with a horrible thud. The bundle of cotton flew everywhere as her hands rose to cover her open mouth.

  Veronica laid a hand on her arm. “Mistress, you did all you could. This is not your fault.” Veronica turned Mistress Phillips so she faced her. “Do you understand me? You’re not to blame yourself.”

  Mistress Phillips sobbed, unable to reply.

  Veronica hesitated and then pulled the Mistress in for a hug. The Mistress stiffened and then hugged her back fiercely. After a moment Veronica released her. Mistress Phillips eyes were still filled with anguish yet around the edges they’d hardened, black as night.

  “Go, my lady. Make them pay,” she said in the same voice she used to order the children about once they felt comfortable enough to misbehave.

  Veronica glanced at Agnes’ corpse. “There is no fit punishment for such a crime.” The words were harsh, flat.