Tesla's Revenge

by Renee Sebastian

  I looked down and saw my body lying limp against a tombstone. I knew I was dead because the world always looked different when I died. Everything held an energy and an aura about it, reflecting the amount of life that resided in it. Things like rocks held graying tones, while people like Jeremy glowed in oranges, pinks, and reds. In contrast, Jasper's body was a black and gray... just as my own body was. Well, at least he was dead too, if I had to be. I looked over to Dorian, who was transfixed over my prone body. He was a fiery mix of reds and electric blues.

  Dorian looked furious with my prone body. He was administering C.P.R. and I was amazed to find that I regretted not feeling his lips on my own. He did this for a few minutes, and then he yelled at me, “You come back to me right now, Gwendolyn Darling. Do you hear me?” Then he growled, “You come back right now! You are not allowed to leave me.” Then I may have heard him whisper, “Not after I just found you.” But maybe I only imagined that part.

  More importantly, I was stuck. I couldn't leave to go wherever the dead go. That took longer than a few hours. At least, I thought it did, since I had never crossed over. I wondered where Jasper's spirit was right now. I looked around, but as usual, I couldn't see anything but the living. Maybe it was just me that hung about, waiting to be reborn, so to speak.

  Then Dorian lifted his sleeve and pressed his lips to his tattoo. Must have been saliva activated. I took advantage of my view of point and observed that his tattoo was of a matching red color to mine. Abruptly, both our tattoos appeared to glow red briefly after he kissed his. He then said some words that sounded like Latin and he began to look about. I heard him swear just before he looked up at me and smiled.

  “There you are.”

  I startled. No one had ever spotted me dead before now. I always imagined a Tomb Talker with extraordinary skill could, but I never had the opportunity for one to actually see me. Maybe this was another skill that Dorian had, but kept hidden.

  It was past time that I tried to make conversation, so I asked, “Can you hear me?”

  “No, but I could read your lips just then. You appear as a hazy red outline to me. Amazing, really.”

  I tapped the top of my wrist to indicate that he should stop wasting time.

  He chuckled and said, “I suppose you might feel that way, as I too would detest not being in my own body.” He held up his hands in a peace gesture when he saw that I was growing impatient.

  “All right. All right. So, I just have to wish you back to life? I guess you really are dead.” Then he scolded me, “Unsatisfactory, really, Miss Darling, getting killed like that. What were you thinking rushing in like that?”

  I'm dead and he was chastising me. Really? I tapped my wrist, again.

  “Let's see. Do I pray?” Great. He decided to get a sense of humor while my spirit was separated from my body.

  I shook my head. Just wishing did the trick, since it required Elven kindled magic and not some deity worship.

  “Good. I'm agnostic.”

  I tapped my wrist again.

  “Couldn't resist. My apologies for teasing. I know it only takes a wish.” He then looked down into my body's placid face. He grabbed my hand with the kiss on it and he gently pressed a finger against it. Then he stared into my body's glazed-over eyes and said, with as much intent that I had ever heard anyone ever speak, “Live Wendy. I wish you alive again, with all of my being.”

  The expanse of time of not knowing if the wish was strong enough to kindle the twisted spell within my spirit was as horrid as usual, but I needn't have worried. The burn started in my core without much hesitation and then I was sucked back into my body.

  I choked, gasped, and opened my eyes in that order. Dorian's eyes crinkled as he smiled down at me. He slowly slid his hands from my face, as he looked me over for any lasting wounds. He rested his hands on my shoulders and asked, “Any worse for wear?”

  My heart stuttered and I replied, “I have a splitting headache.”

  He sighed and said, “Isn't that what they all say eventually?”

  I gathered my wits about me and said, “Thanks.”

  He stood up and offered me a hand. I took it. He pulled me up and said, “You're welcome.”

  Jeremy said, “You were dead, ma’am.”

  “Not really Jeremy,” I said, trying to cover for myself.

  “Ma'am, if anyone knows dead, it's me.”

  I braced myself for the lie I was about to tell and said, “I have an evil curse twisted in me that makes me appear dead, but I'm not.” It wasn't too far from the truth.

  He seemed to think real hard on this and said, “Uh huh. If that is what you want me to believe. Miss, if anyone knows dead from not dead, it’s me.”

  I must be a terrible liar, so I said, “I can't really discuss it or I'll get in big trouble.”

  This he accepted and then he changed the topic, “We did good, huh?”

  I looked around at the cemetery and it looked like where we were standing had been the epicenter of a small explosion. Half of the gravesites had partially exposed the revenants that almost were. They had arms sticking out of the soil, grasping for the second, false life. They littered the perimeter, while dead rats laid about here, there, and everywhere, really.

  I replied, “Yes, we did good Jeremy. Now, after I dig around in the estimable Mr. Jackson's corpse for my shell, I want to know when and where this airship is supposed to pick you up.”

  Chapter 21

  The Laboratory

  “No need for luck. Fate will play its hand.”

  -Nikola Tesla, in reference to his Technological Remotely Automated Machines, 2232

  From Dorian's Journal of Memorable Quotes to Live By

  Personal Note: You are dealt your cards by fate, and whether you get four ace of spades or a high card of seven, it is how you deal with those cards that make the hand.

  When we returned to the feed and seed, stable store to retrieve my bag and possibly sell the horses, we naturally discovered that one of the two horses was gone along with my blasted carpetbag. Tesla took my book again. I should have at least have transferred it to my large purse with my extra clothes.

  I asked Dorian why Tesla would take my bag in the first place and he admitted to giving the scientist one of his colts and some extra ammo. Dorian had convinced him to take my bag to store it in before they separated, since Tesla’s coat was quite unaccommodating to concealing such a weapon of that size. After all, he was used to having walking weapons, why would he need a coat with pockets?

  Dorian then explained that if Tesla were to take off without us, then the bot in the bottom of the bag would once again allow us to track him to his laboratory. Handy trick that bot was turning out to be. There was one other possibility of course, and that was that Tesla knew full well that we were tracking him and was allowing us to do it.

  ···•Ͽ Ѡ Ͼ•···

  The airship that picked us up was a cargo transport and describing it as rundown would be a kindness. The heating was spotty at best in the hold where we were stashed between large crates filled with who knew what.

  I asked Dorian why we simply hadn't taken a cargo airship to Rochester in the first place and he told me that while he could as a full-fledged member, Tesla, Jeremy, and myself were still not official recruits at the time. Thus, the Agora would have refused to fund us. Besides, this was supposed to be a rescue pick up for only Jeremy, an under-age pledge. We were merely chaperoning him until the next connecting flight. This condition was deemed acceptable.

  This flight would drop us off in Washington and from there; Jeremy would take a connecting flight to London, where the seat of the Agora was located. We were then required to find our own way to Baltimore, where Tesla's laboratory was supposedly located.

  We traveled all night with most of that time sleeping, but some of it was spent playing cards. The cards were Jeremy's, the only thing he still had from home, besides some dirt and bones.

  We played poker, but after five rounds, I kn
ew I was outclassed. Dorian praised me for my poker face, but Jeremy was a fierce learner and figured out my tells quickly. They played through at least three variations of the game for several more hours after I had quit. I was asleep long before they were done for the night.

  Finally, morning broke and the captain bundled us out in the predawn light before his crew started unloading their shipment. Jeremy asked the captain about his connecting flight and he said in broken English that it was at an adjacent air shipyard, just to the south.

  As we walked over to it, Jeremy asked, “What about my Ma?”

  Dorian replied, “Whatever do you mean lad?”

  “What's going to happen to her once I'm gone?”

  Dorian said, “You'll be learning your craft by some very skilled individuals, but we will meet again, as soon as our business is wrapped up here. No worries.”

  I said, “Don't worry. I'll get word to your mother through the lady at the munitions store. In fact, I'm willing to wager she'll be thrilled to deliver the news herself. Then I will get word back to you to let you know that your mother survived the flood. Don't worry about a thing except getting yourself to the London office Jeremy.”

  “Thank you ma’am. I would be appreciatin' that a bunch.” Then he looked down and seemed nonplussed. Finally, he asked, “In lieu of my Ma being here, would you consider givin' me a goodbye hug? I ain't never flew on a ship a'fore the one we just got off of, and now I gotta' travel by myself on this one” He paused to draw lines in the gravel within his foot.

  “It's a ways up high up in the sky, and I'm thinkin' I be a'needin' a little encouragement.” He looked down, obviously feeling awkward about the whole situation. I found it funny that he was able to face down a guardian octopus, exploding Niagara Falls, and putting down a rogue Necromancer, but he had a fear of heights. No wonder looking through his bird had tuckered him out. Well, we all have to have something we were afraid of, don't we?

  I knelt down, took his little frame in my arms, and hugged him for all I had. I whispered in his ear, “You haven't seen the last of me Master Tallow.” I purposely used his mother's last name to separate him from the Earlmann side.

  He wiped away a tear that I wasn't supposed to see and then we quietly escorted him to the loading dock to bid him farewell. He never looked back as he climbed to the top of the ramp, but I think it was because he didn't want to look down at the ground below him. It was about fifty feet drop from the top of the ramp.

  ···•Ͽ Ѡ Ͼ•···

  I was thankful that we had come into this city via airship. The red tape getting through a checkpoint would have been heinous. Dorian and I then flagged down a mechcarriage and used the bot to try to find Tesla's secret laboratory. It was midday when we decided to be let off in northern Baltimore, since it was apparent that Tesla had not quite caught up with us. The bot was still indicating a northern direction.

  While we awaited Tesla's return, we stopped for food at a cafe actually staffed with real live people. It only made sense. Food stalls attracted riff raff, and there was to not be any of that sort found so close to the capitol. There was even an outdoor seating area in an alley next to it, and better yet, it was even not a blind alley. Splendid. I was beginning to feel slightly optimistic about the entire affair.

  Dorian decided to get the food since he was able to glamour the cashier quite thoroughly. He brought me an omelet with sides of bacon, toast, and sausage, while he placed a plate of fried tofu and seasonal squash in front of himself. He also brought back a two huge slices of pumpkin pie topped with fresh cream for the both of us to enjoy. As much as I hated it, I sat with my back to the street side to avoid any possible positive identification. Then we busied ourselves eating.

  We hadn't really spoken much since Rochester, so I was startled when he said, “There is a bounty on us.”

  “Of course there is. How much?”

  “Five thousand gold pieces.”

  I choked on my toast, but managed to get it under control. I next asked, “Each or together?”

  He grimaced and said, “Together. Individually, you're worth three thousand to my two.”

  I snickered at that. “Don't get your feelings hurt,” I said, “I'm more of a known and therefore more of a threat to S.O.A.R. than you are. It's just business to them.” I decided to change topics, so I whispered, “How can you help me with Peter. You said before that there may be a way, but it would take time. Whatever did you mean?”

  He took a sip from his glass of wine and then he said, “I may be able to paint a portrait of you, like my own.”

  “Have you ever tried to paint someone else's portrait?”

  “Of course I have. I was trained as an artist since childhood,” he said in an irritated manner.

  “Did it work?”

  “I've never tried to do exactly the same thing as mine with another person.”

  I was grasping for straws, so I asked, “Animals?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did it work?”

  “No.”

  “Then what makes you think it will work for me?”

  “Because I will try harder with yours,” he insisted.

  “But it will still take two years.”

  He answered in a clipped, “Yes.”

  We let a heavy silence fall over us while we finished our brunch.

  I finally said, “I may not be alive in two years, but I will give you permission to try when you get back to your studio.”

  He curtly nodded his head, but then he turned his attention to his empty plate, appearing deep in thought. I reached over and covered his hand with my own. He looked up at me and I said, “Thanks.” I meant it too.

  He smiled and looked as if he was going to say something more, but just then, a waitress came by and collected our emptied plates. I took my hand back and she asked, “Coffee?”

  He said, “Latte please, with a shot of cream.” I shook my head no. She nodded and left. He said, “I saw the headlines of the Hearstonian Sentinel. Our explosion made the front page of it. Seems the federal government has deployed several large battalions to start the investigation and clean-up. The National and the Magical Guard has also been sent to maintain order in the vicinity, since there is no electricity in the area. It's a looter's paradise. The Native Nation is suspected, and it is being handled like a terrorist strike against the government.”

  “Looks like Tesla's tactics worked.”

  “Yes. The zombie outbreaks have shown up in a much smaller story on the bottom half of the front page. Regiments are being sent in to be investigating and controlling those cities. I wonder what else he may have up his sleeve. Check the tracker.”

  I took it out and saw that we now had a heading due east. “Yes, let's see this famous laboratory of Tesla's.”

  “Let's do.”

  ···•Ͽ Ѡ Ͼ•···

  We again hailed a mechcarriage and convinced the driver that we were newlyweds that were sightseeing all the wonders Baltimore had to offer, in hopes that it would cover our erratic directional changes. Once I noticed that we were getting very close to the location and that we were leaving a residential area for the warehouse district, I asked him to loop back to a small restaurant I had seen along the way.

  Once there, we hailed another cab to the warehouse house district. Dorian made a big hullabaloo about a piano being stored in a particular location for me, and we needed to inspect it before delivery to our newly built Victorian. I didn't think that he would buy the story, what with my dress being somewhat wilted, but I don't think he honestly cared. I tipped the driver extra and he winked at me. He probably thought Dorian was slumming it with me. Whatever.

  Now that we had been dropped off close to our destination, it was late afternoon. After we quietly circled the likely building a few times, just to make sure that it was indeed the correct building, I paused to really look at it. It was a huge warehouse. Something that was about the size of S.O.A.R.'s main building loomed before me. On the outside, it
appeared as an abandoned small magic emporium, since there was a corroded, copper facade with no windows. It was perfect really for containing minor magics. Of course the crooked, unlit sign that read Eleanor’s Elegant Elixirs, a chain of magic making stores long since defunct, was a dead giveaway too.

  Eleanor’s Elegant Elixirs once manufactured cold creams that did a number of things when applied correctly, like taking a year off of your complexion or removing freckles. I know, because I used to use it in the summer when more than a few freckles popped up on my face.

  Eleanor’s went out of business about twenty years ago, when the current New Amsterdam's Mayor's youngest daughter ingested it and it fused the insides of her organs together. She consequently died a frightful death and Eleanor’s was sued into oblivion. A few years later, Eleanor herself was found electrified to death under mysterious circumstances. Her death was not investigated.

  “Where's the entrance?” Dorian asked.

  “I think it is wherever we will find a surveillance camera.”

  We circled the building again and again, for about an hour, until the sun started to set and all the remaining workers in the district left for warm food and beds. However, we never found that camera.

  Once the district was devoid of everyone, excluding us, a T.R.A.M. greeted us on our fifth circuit around the building. When it knew it had our attention, it about-faced and we followed it into a previously unrevealed opening in the building. Scrubbers kicked on, and then it turned round to us. A device opened from a panel on its arm. From it, the T.R.A.M. produced a set of blind folds. Really? I thought we were past all of this.

  Dorian shrugged and put his on. I did not like this, but I've fought blindfolded before, so I humored Tesla and put mine on as well. It wasn't as if I was unarmed or bound in such a way as I couldn't remove the blindfold at any time of my choosing. I took it as the symbol that is was: distrust.

  Once mine was on, the floor shifted under my feet, but not enough for me to lose my balance. Due to my shifting balance, I realized that my center of balance moved several times in different directions, before we added the directions of up and down to it. It was not unlike an elevator, conveyor belt, and a boat all rolled up in one. After about five minutes of this carnival ride, where I expected a sea-hag to drag her hair across my head, or a skeleton-dressed man to mysteriously place his hands on my shoulders, we came to a halt.