There was a note in his voice that made Keegan shiver. It didn’t feel right next to the smile he still wore. It was off. But in this moment he was his boss and Keegan could tell he meant what he said about the food and the room. It would be better than being on the streets, away from Glyn and his heavy hand. Safe from the guilds and the Sentry. Maybe, if the man could actually be trusted. Given the recent dealings with that Jack the Ripper, Keegan wasn’t so easy as to trust a stranger.
“Now, please.”
Keegan didn’t need to close his eyes again, not that the connection was locked in place. The watch was still clear in his head, still listening to what he had to say. It only took a heartbeat to find the right path, the right gear and give it a little push. It was easy to have it move, not a challenge at all. Easy, easy, easy to dance with them.
Keegan watched as the man’s eyes widened.
“Can I have that other bag of sweets now, sir?”
The grip around his wrist was now a painful brand, squeezing deep into his bones. Nails dug into his flesh, sending a bolt of pain up his arm and into a spot on his back. The man met his gaze. Keegan had come face to face with one of them zombies once, the Archivists. He’d hated the way their white eyes looked as they hooked up their memory box to the dead body. While his eyes were blue, there was something else there, something that made Keegan’s stomach turn. Something that scared him in a way the zombies never did.
“Make it do something else. Something special.”
He’d never tried to do anything beyond making the cogs spin. It was a bloody broken watch, not a clockwerker’s automaton. “No.”
“Come now, I thought you wanted that second bag of sweets.” The man patted the outside of his pocket. “This is nothing more than a distraction, a ruse. Show me what you can really do.”
“Fine.” But he wouldn’t do it for sweets. There was something about him, something Keegan couldn’t quite put his finger on. This was an opportunity to discover something about this man and what he was really after. If Keegan had learned anything during his time on the streets, it was to gather as much information as possible. You never knew when you’d need it to save your neck.
It took him several moments to trace the spinning metal down to its center, but once he found the spot it was clear what he needed to do. With a thought, he pushed the metal, bending it in such a way that the tension broke. The second it snapped Keegan laughed and opened his eyes.
“Yes.” He grinned, watching the result of his handiwork. “How’s that for ya?”
The minute hand was spinning backward, opposite of the second hand, while the hour hand stood straight at the twelve. Each would cross over the stuck fast hour hand, giving the illusion of a man pinwheeling his hands in an effort to regain his control.
“That’s perfect.” The man’s smile became a full-on grin. “You are a very special boy.” He released his hold on Keegan’s wrist and dropped the second bag of sweets on top of the watch. “Very special indeed.”
The temptation to eat the sugary treats was nearly blinding, but Keegan tucked them away in his pocket. “Can I leave?”
“Leave?” He crossed his arms, shaking his head. “But I offered you a job. A position with my corporation, one of great importance I might add. I don’t make such commitments lightly, and I’m always true to my word.”
“I don’t wanna work in no factory.” That was what had killed his parents, and he’d promised him mum he’d do what he could to stay out of the grip of the guilds. “I’d rather be out on the streets.”
“A factory?” He snorted, cutting the air with his hand. “Nothing of the sort. Do you think a man such as myself would be allowed to run a business here? An American living this close to the French? The guilds would just as soon see me dead as risk me getting a foothold on their business. No, this won’t be that sort of work.”
“Then what?”
“Why don’t you eat your sweets and we’ll discuss it?”
“I dunno.” It would be awfully good to have another taste of that sweetness. But he’d learned the hard way to save any extra food for the times when it was scarce.
“What if I told you the job would entail working with a very special machine? And your payment would be room, food, and all the sweets you would ever want. If you’re concerned about this cell, I promise improvements will be forthcoming.” The man put his hand on Keegan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You see, I dislike the guilds as much as you do. But that’s not the only reason why I’m here. I have a… special project that could only be accomplished here in New London. There aren’t many people I can trust to help me with something so delicate.”
That was something Keegan could appreciate. “But you trust a street rat?”
It had been years since anyone had shown him any kindness, let alone trust. Not since his parents had been taken away by the guilds. They’d been able to make machines do special things, too, though not in the way he could. They would work longer and longer hours, leaving him home alone to fend for himself until one day he realized they weren’t coming back. He’d been lonely, despite having fallen in with the Underlings. This might be his chance to find a new family. Maybe the man could be a new father for him.
“What kinda machine is it, sir?”
He laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Oh, none of that sir stuff with me. Come along and I’ll show you what I started to build. You can tell me what you think of it. I bet you’ll be able to make it do amazing things, maybe even offer suggestions on how to make it better. Even more than what you can with your watch.”
The hallway outside of his cell wasn’t in much better shape. The air was cool and damp, making it hard for Keegan to warm up.
“Ah, what should I call ya if not sir?” As they walked away, Keegan took the bag of sweets out of his pocket and shoved more of them into his mouth. I could get used ta this.
“In America it’s customary to refer to your employer by his name.” He reached down and ruffled Keegan’s hair. “You can call me Mr. Edison.”
About the Author
Christine d’Abo is hooked on romance and, as a novelist and short story writer with more than thirty publications, her imagination is always flowing. She loves to exercise and stops writing just long enough to keep in shape. When she’s not pretending to be a ninja in her basement, she’s most likely spending time with her husband and daughters and her dogs, Jack and Jill.
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Welcome
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
An Excerpt from Quicksilver Soul
About the Author
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Copyright
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Christine Arsenault
Excerpt from Quicksilver Soul Copyright © 2014 by Christine Arsenault
Cover design by Christine Foltzer
Cover art by Dominick Finelle
Cover copyright © 2014 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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ISBN 978-1-45555-050-0
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Gilded Hearts (The Shadow Guild Series) Page 33