Dominion Rising: 23 Brand New Science Fiction and Fantasy Novels

by White, Gwynn

  When she felt certain she hadn’t been followed, she slowed to a fast walk and hurried to the docks. No need to have folks talking about the crazed canal boat captain sprinting to her boat and setting off. That would certainly make her easier to follow.

  Arriving at the boat, she jogged up the gangplank and hopped on board. She found her crew securing the cargo in the aft hold.

  “Prepare to cast off,” she told them between deep breaths.

  “Captain?” Eli turned to face her. “What’s wrong?”

  She didn’t want to alarm them. “My cousin is in town.”

  “Looking for you?”

  “I don’t think so.” She wiped her damp brow. “But should he pass the docks, I don’t want him to see the boat.”

  “We’ll hitch the team,” Benji said, hurrying from the hold with Zach on his heels.

  “Is our passenger still comfortable?” she asked Eli.

  “Last I checked.” A frown wrinkled his brow. He no doubt realized that there was more to this.

  She gave him a small shake of the head to deter any questions. Jimmy would freak out if he even suspected there was a ferromancer around.

  “If you would be so kind as to see us underway, I’ll go speak with him.”

  “What is your business with him, Captain?” Jimmy asked. “He works for the railroad, right?”

  “I’m trying to puzzle that out.” She gave him what she hoped was a confident smile. “Get us underway, Jimmy, so my cousin doesn’t stop me from solving this mystery.”

  Jimmy grinned. “Aye, Captain.” He turned and hurried from the hold.

  Eli still watched her with suspicion. “What are you up to, Miss Briar?”

  “I’m just trying to make it so we can buy this boat. Nothing more. Get the boys moving?”

  Eli didn’t look convinced, but he gave her a nod and moved off to do as she asked.

  Glancing toward shore, but seeing neither Andrew nor the ferromancer, Briar made her way to the bunkhouse in the bow of the boat.

  Mr. Grayson looked up when she stepped into the narrow confines of the cabin, a frown shadowing his eyes and the cold stare once more in place.

  “I just met your friend,” she told him, her breath still coming a little quickly.

  Grayson frowned.

  “Mr. Solon,” she clarified.

  Grayson came to his feet, his brows lifting. He tried to step away from the trunk he’d been seated on, but Eli had tied a rope around his bound hands and secured it to the support post.

  “You failed to mention that he was a ferromancer,” she said.

  Grayson demanded something, but she couldn’t make it out around the gag.

  “Sit,” she said.

  He glared at her.

  “Sit and I’ll remove the gag.”

  He huffed—or tried to through the gag—and dropped back to his seat on the trunk.

  She stepped forward and tugged the cloth from his mouth, allowing it to drop around his neck.

  “You’re certain it was Solon?” he demanded.

  “He was addressed by name. And…he has a metal hand.”

  Grayson sighed, his shoulders dropping. “Damn,” he muttered.

  “He knew I had Lock with me.”

  “Do not call constructs by name, and why are you walking around with it?”

  “I forgot he was in my pocket.”

  Grayson leaned back and muttered something to the ceiling. It wasn’t English.

  “What language was that?”

  “Latin.”

  “Do you know a few phrases or do you actually speak it?”

  “That’s hardly pertinent. What did you say to Solon? Did you tell him I was here?”

  “No. I kneed him in the nuts and ran.”

  Grayson stared at her. “You what?”

  “In case you were wondering if ferromancers have iron balls, question answered. They don’t.”

  Grayson blinked, then tipped back his head and laughed. Up to this point, he had been so remote and cold that his mirth threw her. Of course, judging by his clothing and speech, he probably wasn’t used to such coarseness—especially from a woman.

  Her cheeks heated. “Since you work for one, I thought you might want to know.”

  “You still insist that Martel is a ferromancer?”

  “My instincts say yes, but I’ve sent the plans to a friend—

  “You mailed the plans?” His tone was somewhere between outrage and disbelief.

  “Yes. My friend is knowledgeable and can help me make the determination.”

  “He’s an expert in ferromancy?” The sarcasm was heavy in Grayson’s voice.

  “He lived in Europe, but his expertise is in the area of mechanical design.”

  Grayson leaned back against the support post.

  Briar eyed him. “Are you worried?”

  “That this friend of yours will reveal Martel to be a ferromancer, no, I’m not worried.” A small smile played at the corner of Grayson’s mouth.

  It was Briar’s turn to frown. Did he think so little of Liam’s knowledge, or was Martel really not a ferromancer? Had she kidnapped a man and stolen a famous engineer’s plans for no reason?

  Or was Grayson lying?

  “Solon said he recognized Lock’s soul,” she said.

  Grayson’s confident expression vanished, and he once more watched her with suspicion.

  “So, it’s true? Automatons really are made from stolen souls?” She pulled Lock from her pocket. He seemed to know when they were alone, and instantly transformed into the little dragon.

  Grayson didn’t answer.

  “He’s so beautiful,” she whispered, rubbing Lock beneath his chin, getting a purr from him. “How did Solon recognize his soul?”

  “Its soul,” Grayson corrected her choice of pronoun.

  “Do you not know or are you just refusing to tell me?” She studied the silent man. A new idea occurred. “Did you take Lock from Solon? Is that what you meant when you said you procured him in London?” After all, Solon shared Grayson’s accent.

  Silence met her question.

  The boat lurched into motion, and she absently spread her feet to keep her balance.

  “We’re leaving?” Grayson asked.

  “Yes. I made the unpleasant discovery that your friend is meeting with my cousin.”

  “He’s not my friend, and who the hell is your cousin?”

  “Andrew Rose.”

  Grayson’s brows lifted. “You’re Bridget Rose?”

  “My friends call me Briar.”

  “Charming, Miss Rose. What do your enemies call you? A thorn in their side?”

  “Ha ha. How do you know my name?” Then she remembered. “Oh, right. Andrew had some big plan to marry me off to your Mr. Martel.”

  “Was that his plan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Something tells me you weren’t as thrilled with the idea.”

  “That Andrew intended to sell my boat, build locomotives for the enemy, and give me to some ferromancer? I was delighted.”

  “So, you stole his boat, pilfered those locomotive plans, and kidnapped me? Seems it would be simpler to just knee Andrew in the nuts.”

  “It has proven to be less than effective,” she answered, ignoring the heat in her cheeks. Why did it make her feel so coarse and common to discuss such things with him? It never bothered her with the crew. She rubbed Lock beneath his chin to hide her discomfort and got another coo from him.

  “I wouldn’t think Mr. Martel would be any more thrilled with the idea,” she said.

  Grayson sighed. “It might be a bit late for that since you’ve already captured a bit of his soul.”

  5

  Briar looked up from tickling Lock’s chin. “What? Are you saying Lock is…”

  “I told you not to name it.”

  “You might have told me why!” She stared at the little dragon in horror. Lock blinked, delicate silver eyelids descending over those gem-like eyes. He sprang u
p to her shoulder and with a coo that sounded too much like a question, rubbed his cheek against her throat.

  “What does this mean? What do I do?” she demanded.

  Grayson looked amused at her discomfort.

  “Is that who Solon recognized?” she continued. “What’s the connection? And why is my cousin involved with both of them?”

  Grayson’s frown returned. “That I don’t know.”

  “Captain?” Jimmy called down from the hatch above them.

  Lock scampered down her chest and vanished into her pocket.

  “What is it?” she called.

  Jimmy opened the hatch in the roof above them. “We have a problem.”

  Her heart surged. “Andrew saw us?”

  “No. At least, I don’t think so. It’s the rudder.”

  A thump sounded, and Briar stumbled to the side as the boat hit something.

  “What the hell?” Briar demanded.

  “We docked beside Darby last night,” Jimmy said.

  “Shit.” Briar headed for the ladder.

  “I can fix it,” Grayson called after her.

  Briar hesitated. “You don’t even know what’s wrong.”

  “I can fix it.” He held her gaze.

  Jimmy snorted. “He just wants you to untie him.”

  “A boat floundering at the dock would have to draw attention,” Grayson said. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to avoid attention.”

  In other words, he didn’t want Solon finding him. Not that she blamed him. God, had Solon really stolen a part of Mr. Martel’s soul and locked it in a little metal dragon?

  Without commenting, Briar left the cabin and hurried along the catwalk to join Eli on the tiller deck. The boat was currently butted against the dock a short distance from where they had begun. They weren’t noticeably floundering in the middle of the canal—as Grayson feared—but they weren’t underway, either. And with the canal visible from the busy streets to either side, Andrew could catch sight of them if he were to come this way.

  “Eli?”

  In answer, he lifted up on the tiller, and the handle rose up from its setting. It wasn’t supposed to do that.

  “How did that happen?” she asked.

  “I thought it felt a little soft ever since we left home, but I hoped it just needed tightening. When we bumped that sand bar coming out of lock forty-four, I heard a pop, but since we docked immediately, I didn’t notice a problem.”

  “You think Darby did this?”

  “Aside from brushing that sandbar, we haven’t hit anything.”

  She ran a hand over her braided hair, glancing toward shore. “Can we rig something just to get us out of town?”

  “It’s below the water line. We’ll need to dry dock and have it repaired.”

  She knew that, but had hoped Eli might have a little canal magic up his sleeve. Speaking of magic… She glanced back toward the cargo hold.

  “Mr. Grayson claims he can fix it.”

  Eli’s eyes narrowed. “The ferromancer’s servant?”

  “Maybe he learned a few tricks.”

  “He’s tied up in the bunkhouse. How does he even know what’s broken?”

  “I already pointed that out.” She eyed a hired coach moving along the street. Fortunately, it turned off before reaching them. “I’m going to let him try.”

  “Miss Briar—”

  “We can’t just sit here in plain view.”

  Eli rubbed a hand over his face, but he had no argument for that. He followed her back to the bunkhouse.

  “The tiller no longer controls the rudder,” she said the moment she stepped into the cabin. “We’ll have to dry dock and have it repaired.”

  Grayson nodded as if he understood just what she meant. “I can fix it.”

  “You’re very confident.”

  “Yes.”

  She turned to Eli and gave him a nod. He didn’t look happy about it, but he walked over to untie Grayson’s bonds. Once free, Grayson rose to his feet, rubbing his wrists.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” Eli told him, his voice low.

  Briar wasn’t certain if Eli was just being overprotective or if something had transpired between the two of them when Eli first took him captive. Whatever it was, Eli definitely disliked the guy.

  “You have me at a disadvantage, friend,” Grayson answered.

  “You’re not my friend.”

  Briar rolled her eyes. “If you two are done posturing, there’s a rudder to be fixed and a cousin to elude.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Eli grumbled.

  “Where’s the trunk you stole?” Grayson asked her, ignoring the rest of it.

  Briar eyed him. Was that why he’d volunteered? He wanted to learn the location of his employer’s trunk?

  Grayson sighed at her hesitation. “There’s a tool kit in the bottom.”

  “How would you know that?”

  “I packed the trunk.”

  “You really are Mr. Martel’s valet?”

  “Do you want me to fix the rudder or not?”

  “Eli, please show Mr. Grayson to the tiller deck.” She wanted to add that he was free to toss him in the canal if he gave Eli any trouble. But Eli would probably take her up on it. The rudder wouldn’t be fixed and they’d have the added attention from onlookers while Mr. Grayson was fished out of the canal. She doubted if a dandy like him could swim.

  Gritting her teeth against the annoyance of this whole situation, she marched off to her own cabin to retrieve the tools her passenger had requested.

  Aware that he had been the one to pack the trunk, Briar sifted through the contents, noting how neatly everything had been arranged. Mr. Grayson would do well on a canal boat where every inch of space was a commodity to be used in the most economical way. Had he grown up in a similar environment?

  When she returned to the tiller deck, she found only Eli in attendance.

  “Where’s—” She didn’t get to finish as Mr. Grayson appeared—on the other side of the rail. He’d been hanging off the back of the boat.

  He hoisted himself over the rail to stand before her. “Ah, good. You found it.” He nodded at the bag she carried.

  He’d doffed his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves, but he still looked out of place in the silk waistcoat and well-tailored trousers. His gold watch chain winked in the sunlight.

  “It’s not as bad as I feared.” He accepted the bag from her.

  “You can fix it?” She found that hard to believe.

  “With a forge and some quality steel, absolutely. With what I have here, I can get us to that forge.” He opened the bag and began to sift through the contents with a lot of clinking of metal against metal.

  “Bullshit,” Eli grumbled.

  “Would you like to make a wager?” Grayson asked, not looking up from his bag.

  “Enough,” Briar cut in. She was going to quickly lose patience if these two had to work together for long.

  Grayson pulled out a clamp along with some nuts and bolts. The silver metal wasn’t as glossy as Lock’s scales, but it had a similar sheen.

  “That doesn’t look like iron,” she said.

  “It’s an alloy. It’s stronger and more versatile.” He handed her a wrench. “Hand that down to me when I’m ready?”

  She accepted the wrench with a frown. “What’s an alloy?”

  Grayson sat on the rail and took a moment to toe off his boots and socks. “Commonly, it’s a combination of two or more metallic elements. Steel, brass, and bronze are examples.” He rolled up his pant legs and swung one leg over the rail.

  “And what’s that?” She nodded at the clamp he picked up.

  He flashed her a grin, then dropped over the end of the boat. “The Briar Rose?” His voice carried back to her.

  She stepped up to the rail to watch him climb down the back of the boat. “Yes.”

  “You named your boat after yourself?”

  “No. I’m named after the boat.”

  He gav
e her a considering look she couldn’t interpret before turning back to his task.

  She swung one leg over the rail and watched him work. He really did seem to know what he was doing. It was no time before he was asking—no commanding Eli to test the tiller and for her to hand him the wrench.

  Looping her knee over the rail, she leaned out to eye the repairs. The shiny metal seemed oddly out of place and made her aware that the boat could use a fresh coat of paint when they docked this winter. Would the boat be hers by then? Would she be able to afford to have it painted?

  Grayson climbed back up and took a seat across from her. Without comment, he handed her the wrench.

  She lifted a brow.

  “I figured you wouldn’t want me to carry around a potential weapon.”

  “Do you often use a wrench as a weapon?”

  “Not often.” He was studying her again, his expression impossible to read.

  “And what—”

  Grayson abruptly twisted around to glance over his shoulder.

  She lifted her head to follow his gaze when he sprang at her, pulling her from the rail to drop them both to the deck.

  Briar grunted as she landed face down against the worn boards, Grayson’s arm around her shoulders holding her down. Like her, he was on his stomach. It had happened so fast that her heart just now began to pound.

  “What the hell?” Eli demanded.

  “Look,” Grayson whispered, pointing between the posts supporting the rail that surrounded the tiller deck.

  Briar looked where he pointed and the breath caught in her throat. Along the street, not a dozen yards from her boat, a hired coach had stopped. As she watched, Solon stepped out.

  “Miss Briar?” Eli was reaching for her. “Did he—”

  “Eli, get us out of here. Quickly.” She didn’t know why she whispered. Certainly Solon couldn’t hear them.

  Eli glanced back toward the street.

  “That’s the man Andrew was meeting,” Briar said. “Move, Eli.”

  He stepped away from the rail and, taking the newly repaired tiller in hand, shouted out to Benji to get the team moving.

  Briar cringed at Eli’s shout, then reminded herself that it was no different from any other boat moving along the canal.

  She peered out between the posts. Andrew wasn’t in sight, though he could be in the carriage.

  Solon wasn’t looking directly at them. He kept turning his head as if searching for something.