by Gareth Ward
Footsteps echoed along the corridor. Zonda walked towards the wall of bars, on her face was the same cold, dead stare she’d had on the steamrifle range. Sin swung his legs from the bed and reached between the steel uprights. Zonda placed a rolled up tube of violet-tinted paper into his hand. “You told me you were my friend and nothing was going to change that. You were wrong,” she said.
Sin unrolled the nocturnagraph. Captured in brilliant violet hues were Sin and Velvet beside the fountain, holding hands.
Lifting his gaze to Zonda, Sin said, “That picture don’t show the truth of it, we was–”
“Save your lies,” said Zonda flatly. “I’m not interested in fabricated words from a fabricated boy.” Head held high, she turned and walked away.
Sin screwed the nocturnagraph into a ball and hurled it into the toilet. He flushed it away, down the drain into the sewers, like his life.
* * *
The clanking walk of Major C woke Sin from a fitful sleep. He was unsure whether to stand to attention. Part of him just wanted to lie on the bed and ignore the Major. He’d been thrown out of COG. He wasn’t part of them any more so they could poke their rules. But the faintest glimmer of hope still burned inside him. Perhaps it was all another test and the Major was coming here to tell him he’d passed and could return to his room.
Sin stood before the bars, feet together, back straight, arms locked rigidly by his sides. The Major’s mekaniks vented a puff of steam as his head turned, checking behind him, ensuring they were alone.
“I am aware that we put you in a difficult position with the secrets that we asked you to keep,” said the Major. “Have you revealed Zonda’s hunt for the spy to anyone?”
Sin hadn’t told a soul, but if he let the Major know the truth, was he signing his own death warrant, ensuring the secret died with him? On the other hand, what if he was somehow wrong about Zonda and the Major and there was an innocent explanation? What if Zonda’s father had been working undercover in the King’s Knights as a spy for COG? What if the Major wasn’t the spy? In the end Sin decided he’d had enough with lying and he’d tell the truth whatever the consequences. “No, sir, I’ve told no one,” he said.
“Not Noir, or Eldritch?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. I genuinely appreciate that. However, you broke a Cast-Iron Rule, so I’m afraid there’s little I can do to help your predicament, unless there are any mitigating circumstances. Is there anything else you want to tell me, Sin? Anything at all?”
Sin hesitated. He’d bite his own arm off to stay in COG, but he couldn’t trust the Major. “No, sir,” he said. “I broke the rules and that’s on me.”
The Major stood to attention. “It may take a while to resolve how best to deal with you. You’ll be comfortable enough here until then. Goodbye and good luck, Sin.”
* * *
After the evening meal on the third day, Sin was handed a set of smart yet worn clothes and told to wash and change. Two guards escorted him from the brig and out of the palace by a tradesman’s door. His heart beat faster. This was it. He was leaving COG, a loose end to be removed. A carriage waited on the gravel, venting steam across the stones. With a whirr of clockwork the door to the enclosed passenger compartment swung open. Sin paused. If he got inside what would happen to him?
“Hurry up, COG Sin,” said Lilith from the dark confines of the cab.
Sin started. She had called him COG. Perhaps he still had a chance. He clambered inside.
Lilith sat deep in the gloom of the cabin. She held a finger to her lips and motioned with her other hand for Sin to take a seat. The door slammed, locked, and with a hiss of steam the carriage rocked forwards. Sin dropped onto the cushioned bench.
Lilith steepled her fingers. “You have been a vexatious thorn in our side with your spying and interference.”
Sin glanced at the carriage door. There was no visible method to unlock it and the ironglass window offered little hope of escape. “So now you’re going to murder me?”
“That would be a waste.” Lilith leaned closer. “No, we are going to use you.”
Sin caught a faint aroma of lavender, the same as had been on the note summoning him to the fateful meeting with Velvet. “You arranged the meeting. You set me up. It wasn’t Eldritch.”
“We needed you thrown out of COG so you could help us unobserved. You seem to think we are the nefarious ones, yet Noir and I are the only people you can trust. There is a spy that we’ve been scheming to catch but your blundering has thwarted our efforts.”
“You’re saying all that skulking about was you trying to catch the spy?”
“Precisely. We have been leaking information to give us credibility. They were non-sensitive papers, pieces of Nimrod’s research with no military relevance, or so we thought. Last week we put out one of Nimrod’s zoological investigations. It was an experiment on octopus blood, which seemed pretty harmless, except a contact in the King’s Knights paid far too handsomely for it. When their courier collected the papers Noir tailed him to the St Aldates workhouse.”
“What’s this got to do with me?” said Sin.
“Noir couldn’t get inside the buildings unnoticed and we can’t sanction an official COG operation, so you are going to do it. No one’s going to suspect a fourteen-year-old boy, and you have skills, training and a knowledge of COG. That’s why I’ve been pushing you so hard in detention. I needed to get you mission-ready.”
“What makes you think I’m going to help you?”
“You believe in COG. You saved Nimrod’s life. Uncover the truth and I will petition to have you reinstated.”
The noise of the coach changed as it passed through the palace gates, leaving the estate’s gravel road behind. Sin sat back. If Lilith was being truthful, she wanted to catch the spy and was offering him an opportunity to redeem himself. He should grasp it with both hands. But they had orchestrated his expulsion and they needed him to cooperate so perhaps, finally, he had the leverage to get some answers.
Sin looked her in the eyes. They pierced him to the core but he held her gaze. “I want to know about the Eugenesis Project.”
Lilith’s face didn’t so much as flicker. “I don’t know what that is.”
“In that case you may as well stop the coach, because I’m not interested.” Sin folded his arms and adopted his best poker face.
“I swore an oath to Nimrod. My family does not break its word, though I’ll tell you what I can.” Lilith stared out of the window for what seemed like an age before continuing. “Fifteen years ago I answered an advertisement in The Times. A team of scientists were seeking extraordinary people, not just talented, they wanted ‘extramundane humans’ as they termed it. My family has always been considered bizarre because we never get sick, so I applied and was admitted to the project. That’s where I first met Noir.”
Sin inhaled sharply. “Why was Noir on the project?”
“He was a stage magician renown for his fire act but his passion was hypnotism and mesmeric states. He could enter a trance where time would slow, allowing him to carry out impossible feats of sleight of hand.”
Noir could slow time. That couldn’t be coincidence. What had Zonda said about the notes he’d stolen from Eldritch? The scientists had taken Super-Pangenes from a number of talented people and given them to a baby. A queasiness gripped Sin. Did he have Noir’s Super-Pangenes? He’d half suspected he was part of the experiment, but not that Noir might be involved too. He shuddered in revulsion. What other freaks’ Super-Pangenes might he have? Could it really be that he was made from many donors? He had to know for sure. “Am I the result of the Eugenesis Project?”
“Only Nimrod can answer that.”
“Well, he can’t, can he?”
“And if we don’t find the spy, the next attempt on his life may be successful and your answers die with him.”
“Say I believe you. How do I know I can trust Noir?”
“He’s a dark horse for sure but he adheres to a code of so
rts. I trust him with my daughter’s life. He wouldn’t let anyone kill Nimrod.”
“He was at the Royal Society of Inventors when Nimrod was poisoned.”
“He went after Nimrod when the alarm was raised, only to find someone had unwound the other carriages, delaying him. I find it more revealing that Eldritch managed to spectacularly not arrive in the nick of time. In fact, the timing of his failure couldn’t be more perfect.”
“So Eldritch is the spy?”
“Eldritch, the Major, Stoneheart, MacKigh, someone else entirely, it could be anyone at the palace. This is why we need you. You’ve got to discover what they’re up to and bring them into the open.” Lilith reached into a lace-trimmed reticule at her side and pulled out a set of lock picks. “Yours, I believe. I caught COG Nobbs trying to sneak them into the brig. He was planning some sort of daring escape for you but I managed to scare him off.”
Sin took the picks. Good old Nobby. It was sad to think he may never see him again.
The coach had left the palace grounds and he had left the best few weeks of his life behind. If there was even the faintest chance that he might be able to rejoin COG he had to take it. He slid the picks into a pocket and said, “What do you need me to do?”
CHAPTER 30
MOTHER’S RUIN
The coach pulled to a halt between two street chemlamps, their light leaching through the evening’s smog. Lilith pulled a carpetbag from beneath the seat and pushed it towards Sin with her foot. “We’ve got you a job as the doctor’s assistant. We don’t understand why they’re interested in Nimrod’s research so we need you to discover what they’re up to. Once we know that we can set a trap for the spy.”
Sin lifted the bag onto the seat beside him. Fom inside her jacket Lilith pulled a letter. “This is a reference from the Sisters of the Sacred Science Orphanage. You are Sinclair Grant, a recent discharge with a perfect record of behaviour.”
Sin reached for the letter and noticed a sovereign ring on the index finger of Lilith’s left hand made from three intermeshing cogs. Sinclair was the name stencilled on the crate he’d been abandoned in and the ring was the one he’d seen in the photo. He grabbed Lilith’s hand and turned it to get a better view of the ring. “You were there when I was abandoned. You know what happened to me, to my mother.”
Lilith swallowed, a watery sheen glazing her eyes. “Your mother, Eve Metis, was a great lady and a scientist ahead of her time. If it wasn’t for her, my Velvet would never have been born.”
Sin released Lilith’s hand. “Tell me what happened. Please?”
After a long pause, Lilith spoke, her voice trembling. “When you were two months old Eve came to me convinced that someone was trying to take you from her. She asked for my help to smuggle you out of the country. Her house was being watched so we came up with the plan of hiding you in a crate of gin.”
“So how come I ended up at the orphanage?”
“Noir was driving Eve and you to the aerodrome when they were ambushed. Noir conjured a rain of fire on their assailants buying enough time for Eve to escape but he was terribly burned in the process.” Lilith dabbed a falling tear with a lace handkerchief. “What happened next we can’t know for sure. Eve was later found murdered on the other side of the city. We can only presume that she left you on the orphanage steps before drawing her pursuers away.”
Sin inhaled deeply. He had no memory of his mother and always knew it was unlikely that he’d ever meet her. Even so, the news was a shock. He felt like he’d been punched in the guts. What had Zonda said? The truth you want to hear is not necessarily the truth you’ll get. Well, this certainly wasn’t the truth he’d wanted. Before, he’d had hope, now there was just an empty space, like all these years he’d been chasing a ghost.
“Noir spent years in a sanatorium recovering from his burns. On his release he tracked you down to the orphanage. I didn’t like to abandon you there but Noir persuaded me that it was safest. Anonymity was your best protection.”
“Protection from who?”
“We still don’t know for sure, so you need to keep this a secret. If you don’t, Velvet and I will be in the gravest of danger, as will you.”
If his mother was such a great woman, why would anyone want to attack her and what was she running away from? Sin had often wondered about his father and why no photograph was left of him. Could this be the reason?
“Was it my father who murdered her?”
“Most definitely not.”
“But you knew my father?”
“Yes, and before you ask, I am honour-bound to secrecy on the matter, as is Noir. He may have tried to prod your memory with his notes and theatrics but he won’t out-and-out tell you any more than I will.”
“I’m done with all these secrets and lies. Why can’t you just tell me the truth?”
“Because promises were made. I promised your mother and my family does not break–”
“Its word. I know, you said,” concluded Sin.
“Complete the mission and return to COG. Then you may find the answers you seek,” said Lilith, folding her arms.
Sin scowled. Because of course, it was going to be that simple.
* * *
Wisps of smog curled around Sin’s legs like a friendly cat. The sounds and smells of Coxford filled him with a sense of comfort. After the evening’s revelations it was a relief to pretend for a moment he was back to his simple life in the gang. This was his city and he walked the streets with a confident swagger. Sin Metis, that was his name. His real name. He couldn’t tell anyone but just knowing it made him more complete, tempering the sadness he felt that he’d never known his mother and never would. Growing up among orphans, he’d been stoic about his fate, but now, discovering that his mother had loved him – had died to protect him – his stoicism was transmuting to anger.
A trio of young urchins stepped from an alley, mistaking Sin for an easy mark. “Spare some change, sir?” said the biggest of the three.
This wasn’t Sin’s old patch although he thought he recognised one of them as belonging to the JTS crew. “Jimmy Two Sticks don’t need my money and he don’t need the Sheriffs sniffing round neither.”
The boys’ demeanours changed, more wary now, and Sin knew he’d guessed their master correctly. Sin dropped his bag, his hands bunching into fists. “My evening ain’t exactly been bang up the castle so if you want a battering, let’s dance,” he said, slipping easily into the patter of the streets.
The two smaller boys hesitated, waiting for direction from their larger leader. “Don’t reckon you’ve got nothing anyhow,” said the bigger boy. Seeming to sense the danger, he backed away, the three of them fading into the alley.
The workhouse was a large, foreboding brick building. It looked like a prison and for the poor, destitute and infirm unlucky enough to end up there, it was one. Sin’s life under the Fixer had been tough but it was never so bad that he’d considered the workhouse. The poor were viewed as slackers and conditions in the workhouse were deliberately harsh to deter them. They toiled twelve-hour shifts, crushing bones for fertiliser or picking oakum, and in return they were crammed thirty to a room and received two meals of gruel a day.
Sin walked up the steps and into the entrance foyer. It smelled of urine and disinfectant.
“What do you want?” challenged a burly porter from the booking counter.
Sin pulled the letter of introduction from his pocket. “Sinclair Grant. I’m to be Doctor Hotchin’s assistant.”
The porter snatched the letter and shouted to someone in the office behind him. “Veronica? The new assistant’s here. Sort him out.”
A chair scraped back and then Veronica hurried into view. Sin did a double-take. Despite the dowdy dress and cloth mop hat, there was no mistaking Velvet’s elegant features.
“Welcome, Mr Grant, we’ve been expecting you. I’ll show you to your room then give you a tour of the workhouse.”
Velvet took Sin past the porter’s office and
along a gloomy corridor, at the end of which stood a dirty wooden door. Someone had once tried to brighten it with a coat of green paint but this had succumbed to the malaise of the workhouse, the once glossy coat now cracked and peeling.
Velvet ushered Sin inside. The room was just big enough for the narrow, iron-framed bed pushed up against the wall. The brickwork glistened with damp and in one corner an impressive cluster of toadstools pushed their way up from the rotting floorboards. It couldn’t have been more different from his room at the palace – even the brig had been more welcoming – but Sin had slept in far worse. He threw his carpetbag onto the bed and turned to face Velvet. “What are you doing here?”
Velvet pushed the door closed behind her. “You didn’t think they’d trust this all to you?”
“So you were in on the whole thing. You set me up?”
“No, that was Mother.”
“She had her own daughter thrown out of COG?”
“Mother does whatever it takes to get the job done and she expects the same of me.” Velvet tugged the cloth cap from her head. “Even if it’s wearing rags like this, or tempting candidates to break the rules at selection. Whatever Mother says goes.”
Lilith had ordered Velvet to try to get him kicked out of selection, and if it wasn’t for Zonda, she probably would have succeeded. Sin felt an unaccustomed pang of guilt. He missed Zonda. She had a way of making him feel like he belonged. He wished they’d parted on better terms. “What do we do now?” he asked.
“Settle in. Don’t do anything stupid, and watch for clues. You’re used to these sorts of people so you’ll know if something’s wrong.”
“I never stayed at the spike.”
Velvet’s brow furrowed. “The spike?”
“It’s what we call the workhouse.”
“See, you know the vernacular; you’ll fit in just fine. Me, well it’s killing me to talk like these commoners, and the smell, don’t even get me started on that.” Velvet reached behind her and pulled the door open. “I’ll show you around, and in the morning you can meet the doctor.”