The Girl and the Clockwork Cat (Entangled Teen)

by Nikki Mccormack

  “All right.” He glanced back the way they had come once more, then shook his head and turned away. “We’re not far from my house, but that detective tramp and her brutes might go there.”

  “Not right away. It’s too obvious and it’ll take them a while to repair the harnesses.” She stared at his back and chewed her lip. It was daft to feel guilt for being tired and hungry, but she did. “I’m sorry we were too late.”

  His back stiffened and he started walking again, trusting that she would follow. With the promise of food and rest hanging over her, it made little sense not to. Wading through a sludge of exhaustion and misery, she trudged along after him, Macak draped around her shoulders like a fuzzy shawl.

  “Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.”

  Ash didn’t look back. “What?”

  “If Em caught your dad, maybe he could convince her he’s not guilty.”

  Ash shook his head. “No. She’s working with the Lits.”

  “So.”

  “Pirate,” he said, as if that explained everything.

  “Lots of folks are pirates.”

  “Yeah, but lots of folks don’t know the things he knows.”

  Maeko chewed on that thought. Just how important was his father to the pirate movement? Perhaps it was better not to know. She changed the subject. “Why would someone kill a woman and her daughter like that?”

  “Could have been pirates.”

  Maeko stared hard at his back, wishing she could see his face to figure out if he were serious. “Your parents are pirates.”

  “Not like them. Some pirates are too extreme. They take things too far.”

  “But why would they do something like that?”

  He glanced over his shoulder now, taking her measure with a gaze. “You really don’t keep up on things, do you?”

  She ground her teeth to keep from saying something rude. She despised feeling simple. Who had time for other people’s problems when staying alive from one day to the next was a full-time job?

  When she didn’t answer, he explained. “Lucian Folesworth is Literati. He helped fund the Airship Tower and several other Literati projects. Basically, Clockwork Enterprises is supporting the Lits. That’s reason enough for some people to want him dead and they wouldn’t think twice about taking down anyone who got in their way.”

  “So bad pirates did it?” How ludicrous did that sound? There, Mr. Jacard, now you have me using that word.

  “Maybe.”

  “If not them, then who?”

  “I’m working on it.” Ash held up a hand and stopped to scan the area. After watching for a few minutes, he started to cross the street, motioning for her to follow. They hurried to the door of a little blue house. The door was unlocked, something that brought another creative string of curses from him. He stormed in and straight to the small kitchen.

  “You may not be a street rat, but you can sure swear like one,” she observed, scanning the cozy accommodations while he dug around in the cupboards.

  Macak hopped down to investigate, wandering about to the soft click and whir of clockwork gears. The furnishings weren’t fancy, but the little bit of clutter on a scratched up table surrounded by a well-worn brown couch and two chairs gave a comfortable feel to the front room that she found pleasant. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from a pirate household, but it wasn’t this common, relaxed setting. It was normal. It was a place a family could be happy together. Something she knew nothing about.

  “Do you realize you sounded impressed when you said that?” Ash asked, his voice muffled by the cupboard.

  “I was.” She ignored another noisy growl from her stomach. Under different circumstances, she would have joined his search. Since this actually was his house and not one she’d broken into, it felt inappropriate to rummage around like a thief.

  “Dad says I shouldn’t do it.”

  “Why not?”

  He started pulling out several items, setting them in a row on the counter, and it took a considerable act of will not to pounce on the food like a ravenous mongrel.

  “It isn’t polite. Here.”

  She accepted the food he offered and turned to eating, no longer interested in the ethics of bad language. Macak joined her, accepting offered bites only if she set them beside her and pretended not to notice him taking them. When they finished, Ash led her to one of the back rooms. Two narrow tousled beds tucked against the walls, the floor between them littered with clothing. A room shared by two boys with little regard for cleanliness. She could imagine their mother scolding them over it to no effect.

  “You can use Sam’s bed if you want.”

  He gestured toward one of the beds, then stood staring at it for a long moment in angst-filled silence. She stared at it too, but for a different reason.

  “I can’t sleep there. I’d never wake up.”

  “Would you rather sleep on the floor?” His tone held cutting sarcasm.

  With all seriousness, she asked, “Can I?”

  The momentary bitterness faded. He shook his head and shrugged. “Suit yourself. You’re welcome to the blankets and pillow if you want.”

  Afternoon sunlight filtered in through the closed curtains, providing her enough light to make up a quick bed for herself on the floor. Ash stood watching, his hands and feet in constant restless motion.

  When she was satisfied, she sat on the floor in the nest of blankets, feeling awkward before his uneasy gaze. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s strange, having a girl in my room. It’s not proper. Dad would be peeved.”

  “It’s not that strange.” She’d spent most of her life camped out in various hideouts with boys around. Most of the boys knew she had the protection of Chaff and several others who were happy to keep watch over her to please him and because they respected her skill as a pickpocket. Those who didn’t learned fast. Still, she preferred a room to herself when given the option.

  “Where do you usually sleep?” He sat cross-legged on his bed. Shadows obscured his features, his pale eyes shining bright in the dim.

  She lowered her gaze and began to pick at a loose thread on one blanket. “Wherever. Lurks, alleys, boxes, the floor of a shop or pub when I can. Who else would go after Mr. Folesworth?”

  Ash was silent for a time and she thought he might try to steer the conversation back to her, but his gaze moved to his brother’s empty bed. “Someone who stood to gain from his death I suppose. His company is worth a fortune.”

  “Well, it wasn’t his wife or daughter.”

  Ash nodded and gave her a critical look. “How old are you?”

  “I was almost seven when I hooked up with Chaff.” At his puzzled look, she added, “My mentor.”

  He looked more confused.

  “Chaff’s a nickname,” she explained. When he nodded, she went on. “That was close to ten years ago. 16 maybe.”

  “Maybe? Don’t you celebrate your birthday?”

  “Street rat,” she pointed to herself. “When you don’t know where your next meal is coming from, birthdays lose importance. Chaff and I do pick a day each summer when we have a little extra coin to get a special treat. We call it our still kickin’ and pickin’ day.” She grinned, remembering the sticky sweets they’d shared last year before trying to wipe the sticky off their fingers into each other’s faces in what turned into a grand wrestling match. Chaff won, but she’d given him a good fight.

  “You spend a lot of time with this Chaff bloke.”

  “He’s a kidsman now. I work for him, though it rarely feels that way. He’s not that demanding. Well, not of me.” Why was that? Was it just because she was a girl or was there more to the special consideration? She began to pick at a tear in her new trousers until Macak came and kneaded the blankets to get her attention.

  “How’d you end up on the streets?”

  The few feet between them became miles. Maeko pulled a blanket tight around her shoulders and focused on petting Macak. That wasn’t a story she told to p
eople. Chaff knew. No one else did. There was no way she was going to tell Ash. She barely knew him. “The usual way. I don’t know who my dad is. Mum worked at a brothel. Something happened to her.”

  Men charge into their rooms in the brothel, their feet pounding on the floorboards like thunder. Her mother snaps at her, ordering her to hide under the bed and stay there no matter what happens. She does so, shoving her fingers into her ears to drown out her mother’s cries and shaking so hard she is sure they will hear her body rattling the floorboards. It seems an eternity before they finally leave. She calls for her mother. The only answer is a choked sobbing. She crawls out and finds her mother curled on the floor, her dress torn, her hands pressed over her face. Blood runs between her fingers, so much blood.

  Maeko shuddered and looked up at Ash struggling to escape the crushing power of memories she tried to keep locked away.

  “What happened?” His voice was a whisper, the natural lure of morbid curiosity taking hold.

  She learned that you never turn down a crime boss.

  No one came to help that day, not until the men were good and gone. She hated them for it—all the women at the brothel who helped raise her. She hated her mother too, for making the man angry, for staying in that place and forcing her to live there. She didn’t understand then. She only partly understood now, but she didn’t hate her anymore.

  She stared at the floor where a pair of boy’s trousers lay heaped in a pile with two shirts and a lone sock that sported a hole in the toe. He slid the pile self-consciously under the bed with one foot.

  “It’s all right if you don’t want to talk about it.”

  She nodded. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes now and risk seeing judgment there. The illegitimate child of a toffer turned to the streets. It wouldn’t surprise her if he threw her out in disgust. Only he still needed her to find his brother, so he would tolerate her presence for now.

  What to say? “Do your folks take you places in the airship?”

  “Sure. Sometimes. The band pooled their money to buy it so they could play in other towns. I get to help Dad keep it running. It’s a lot of fun when we get to ride along. The city looks different from up there. Better somehow.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” Macak curled up next to her, his soft purr soothing. “You know a lot of stuff, Ash. You may not have street smarts, but you’re smart in other ways.”

  “Thanks,” he pretended intense interest in a protruding thread on his bedcover.

  Maeko gave herself a mental pat on the back for making him uncomfortable.

  Ash cleared his throat. “You know, with your street smarts and my other smarts, I bet we could find Mr. Folesworth and prove my dad innocent.”

  “You think so.” She let plenty of skepticism into her voice.

  He ignored it, his grin bringing enthusiastic energy into the room. “I do, and I bet there’d be one bloody splendid reward if we pulled it off. We could start back where you found Macak.”

  Good plan. She knew he was trying to manipulate her into offering further help. He might also be right, but that didn’t make it a good idea. Besides, they would never be partners the way she and Chaff were. They came from different worlds. She was out of place here.

  “Maybe.” Turning her back on his hopeful smile, she curled on the floor and tugged a blanket up over her ear. Macak hopped over, settled in against her chest, and licked her face. Annoying, and yet somehow comforting.

  “You sleep,” Ash muttered. “I’ll keep an eye out. I couldn’t sleep right now.”

  She made a sound of assent and squeezed her eyes shut against the ache of aloneness in her chest.

  She woke sometime later to a soft paw batting at her nose. When she opened her eyes, Macak’s face filled her vision, his nose almost touching hers. She started to speak and he put his paw on her lips. Elsewhere in the house, she heard a door creak open.

  So smart.

  She scratched the cat behind the ears and sat up, getting her bearings. Judging from the darkness that filled the room, she had slept away the remains of the day and a good portion of the evening. For the first time in days, she felt well rested. A quick glance at the sleeping figure on the bed confirmed that Ash wasn’t the one who’d made the door creak. She froze. If it wasn’t him…

  There was someone else in the house.

  Chapter Eight

  She threw the blanket off and got up, creeping out of the bedroom. Someone rummaged around in drawers in the kitchen, then proceeded out into the hall with an eerie shuffling walk. Just when she decided it might be better to hide, the intruder struck a lucifer. In the brief flare of light, she and Garrett stared at each onother. He looked confused, his eyes glossed over with exhaustion and pain.

  “What the hell are you doing in my house?” His voice came out slow and thick, as if speaking took considerable effort.

  “Did you send the Lits for me after you nicked Macak?”

  It took him a moment to gather his thoughts and the match guttered out. He struck another and used it to light the candle he carried, holding it up near enough to her face that she could feel its warmth. She took a step back.

  “No. And I didn’t nick the cat. It was never yours.” He sagged against the wall and exhaled. “I only wanted to help my son.”

  She nodded, hoping she wasn’t accepting his explanation too easily. “What about the woman and the little girl. Did you kill them?”

  “How do you even know about that?”

  She waited for his answer, ready to abandon him to his suffering if he gave the wrong one. After all, she’d already stuck around longer than intended.

  He grimaced, his eyes squeezing shut, and shook his head then pressed his free hand to the wall as if the motion had unbalanced him. “No. We didn’t kill anyone. We went there hoping to talk to the cat’s owner about the clockwork leg.” He opened his eyes, starting almost as bad as she did when Macak landed on her shoulders. His eyes narrowed at the cat and it took him a minute to continue. “They were dead when we got there.”

  Knots of anxiety freed up in her gut. “I thought so.” More questions popped to mind, however, refreshing the tension burning through her nerves. “But why did you go inside? How did you get in?”

  “The door was cracked. Jack thought we should poke around, see if we could find out more about the leg. He has a bit of a nefarious past, something I’m sure you can relate to.”

  She assumed Jack was another of the band members and while she wasn’t sure she knew what nefarious meant, she didn’t think it was complementary. “You’re a pirate. Why should I believe you?”

  “Is Ash here?” He took a step toward her and staggered, bracing himself against the wall again. A dark stain had spread across his trousers where Em shot him, glistening wet in the candlelight.

  “I’m here, Dad.” Relief washed away some of the lines of strain in Garrett’s face when Ash emerged from the darkness. He slipped an arm around his father’s waist, giving him his shoulders for support. They made a slow trek over to the brown couch and Garrett groaned when Ash lowered him down. Then he stood and stared at his father, his face drawn with worry.

  Garrett’s gaze moved from Maeko to his son. “I thought you were arrested. How’d you end up here with her?”

  “That bloody detective tramp,” Ash growled and Garrett gave him a stern look that he ignored. “She threw Maeko and me in JAHF. Maeko was cracking brilliant, though. She helped me get out of there.” Ash glanced at her with a look full of gratitude and admiration.

  Praise wasn’t what she expected after telling him where she came from. She shifted, uncomfortable, and turned her attention to his father to avoid his eyes. At least Ash made the effort to say her name right.

  “You should have stayed on the airship.”

  Ash hung his head, chastised.

  Garrett sighed. “No matter now. We have other problems. That woman has your brother.”

  Ash’s expression soured and he swallowed hard, his teet
h grinding together.

  Maeko took a step closer. “We know. We went after him and got there when Em was taking him away. I’m the one who unhitched the horses.”

  Garrett’s head snapped up. “You should have stayed out of it. You could have been hurt.”

  What do you care? “If you’d have run when you should’ve I wouldn’t have had to do it.”

  Garrett scowled, not conceding, but wise enough not to waste energy arguing with her. “Em, she’s the detective?”

  Maeko nodded.

  “And she thinks we killed those people?”

  She nodded again.

  “We need to get out of here.” He started to stand and fell back, clutching at the injured leg.

  “You need a doctor!” Ash gripped his father’s shoulder, his face now almost as pale as Garrett’s.

  “No. I can’t take that chance. The detective knows I’m injured. She might have Lits watching the hospitals. I need to get to Chelsea. There’s a woman there, a pirate supporter. She treats us when we can’t risk taking someone to the hospitals. She can help.”

  The room lurched and Maeko had to swallow against the sudden urge to heave up her last meal. She knew that woman too well. She’d been spying on her mother for years. She provided illegal medical services to the pirates and ran a laundry as a cover, all to pay off her debt to the mysterious man who had paid her medical bills after the attack in the brothel.

  I can’t do this. I should take the tin he owes me and leave. Maeko cleared her throat and two sets of expectant eyes turned to her. Macak purred in her ear. I really am cracked. “We better get moving then. Got any shoes I can borrow?”

  Garrett sent Maeko to sort through his wife’s shoes to replace the one she’d thrown at the horse. She selected out a pair and stuffed a sock in each toe to make them snug then stashed her lock picks in the satchel. When she returned to the living room, Garrett was drinking something that smelled of strong liquor. After several long swallows, he nodded, implying readiness to move on. He didn’t look ready, but the longer they stayed, the more likely they’d get unwanted company. She peeked out into the street to look for any sign of the Lits or the detective. Satisfied that they had nothing to fear, she nodded back to them and Ash helped his father up, providing support while they headed out into the street. She ached to get back to the inner city where it was easier to become lost in a pinch, but Garrett’s injury forced a slow pace and a different destination.