Tesla's Revenge

by Renee Sebastian

  While looking for a mechcarriage, the sky opened up, and it washed the worst of the blood off of us. Thank goodness for dark clothing and my stain resistant coat. Next, we only had to walk about thirty minutes to the outside of the warehouse district before we found a tiny, blue-collar pub with several carriages waiting to take home the inebriated, would-be travelers. I needed a detailed map of Washington, but I knew none would be found in a Baltimore neighborhood bar. No one who frequented this dive needed directions.

  We approached the first carriage, but it turned us down, stating that it was just too far to go to D.C. at this time of night. The next one only took us with double his normal fare rate. I figured that was only fair, since he needed to travel all the way back to get to his home in the middle of the night.

  Once we were in and on our way, I let my foot hit the heater button in the floor, and some of the coal-heated air cycled through the scrubbers into the cabin. I took out my resplug to hang about my neck and laid my coat next to me. Dorian sat across from me and did the same. I removed and checked through my weapons and counted the magical rounds three times. The slug in Jasper Jackson had proven to be irretrievable since it seemed to disintegrate when in contact with blood. Eleven left.

  I said, “I've been thinking about the Revenants, and they are not of the home-grown variety. The ones waiting in ambush of us at Niagara had the most peculiar red sheen across his eyes. They were also more difficult than normal to extinguish too. In addition, Jasper should have died from that slug. What do you think is really going on here? Because I haven't a clue.”

  Dorian said, “I feel that Lovecraft is key here. I think he's trying to build a portal to the demon realm and that he is having some alarming side effects.”

  I hadn't a clue about demons, excepting that they were first recorded being summoned about fifty years ago. But I suspected that they were more than likely being summoned in secret for many years before then. The government was always swift to officially condemn the practice of summoning demons on the grounds of it being of the devil. I believed the real reason was that the government couldn't use the demon population in some sort of advantageous manner... until now.

  Lovecraft's exploration of creating a demon gate, for who knew what purpose, must have been at least on the government’s radar. I bet the military knew about this, even if it was being done without Edison's knowledge. That was definitely a possibility to weigh.

  “I thought that the only way a demon could even cross over was if the Summoner had created a circle of nether. Demons can't really exist here on this plane, outside of their circle, can they?” I asked.

  Dorian replied, “Summoners are not frowned upon in most of Europe. The Summoners there have been able to learn a little through bartering with the entities that we call demons. We’ve learned that some of them cannot only live on this plane, but thrive in it, in fact.

  “Latin, or something like a bastardized form of it, is used to summon them. We believe they lived on earth up until the time of the Romans. At that time, they created their plane of existence and left this one. Some believe the Romans learned to write and speak in Latin because they learned it from the demons. But something went wrong between the two civilizations, and they chose to leave of their own accord and go into their plane or some major magic was used to banish them to their otherworldly realm.

  “Then followed a time in which we vilified them by putting them firmly in the not of this earth category. If Lovecraft has made some sort of truce with them, granting them safe passage for power or magical abilities, those powers might be unknown to us; and, indeed, may be enhancing his own powers.

  “I want to know the reason why they left. And possibly the reasons they want to come back. Another consideration is that Lovecraft may be forcing them to come through his portal against their will?” he said.

  “Lovecraft may want to travel into their plane. This might be his only motivation.”

  “Agreed. As dangerous as Edison is, Lovecraft is the larger threat, especially if he could cross over and come back. He might indeed learn some dangerous magic there that he could use here. He may become the most powerful User to ever live.”

  “That would be very bad for us,” I said.

  We sat in silence for a while after that. I held my book in my hands and quickly flipped the pages by thumb repeatedly, making a zipping sound. I listened to the horse clopping and the coachman stoking the fires occasionally.

  Once, we stopped and stretched our legs in the countryside. The coachman needed to remove some coal from the trunk compartment to feed the belly of the mechanical horses. The evening had grown cold. The steam from the coals made huge puffs of white clouds in the air, visible even without much a moon and stars to see by. We got back in the coach and the coachman lead us into the heart of D.C.

  ···•Ͽ Ѡ Ͼ•···

  It was about one thirty in the morning when we finally made it to a commercial district that catered to the congressional and military patrons of D.C. I insisted that we stop outside a busy tavern to search for a map. Once we were deposited outside, Dorian paid the driver and I took a moment to read the sign hanging above the door. Illuminated in red neon, it read, “The Red Herring: Rated Second Best in the 2227 Trout and Stout Contest.”

  I asked, “Hungry?”

  Dorian asked, “Thirsty?

  “I guess we got both covered. Listen, I'm betting that somewhere in this second best establishment, I will find a map of the area targeted for tourist walking tours. I'm just not sure how far away we are to the Pentagon, and it would be suspicious to ask anyone a question such as that, if we are indeed close.”

  “Get what you need and I will get us some provisions.”

  We entered and I was surprised to see how lively the tavern was for a weeknight. Dozens of people crowded the bar. Many wore the military's red coats, but I wasn’t worried they would recognize us. They were too inebriated or interested in different game all together now that they have been off the clock for many hours.

  There was an abundance of tables surrounding a dance floor and obviously, it was cowboy karaoke night. I didn't know there were any cowboys in D.C. and I said as much to Dorian.

  I saw his eyes widen in surprise and then disgust. He replied, “Is it dress up night?” Then he made a face and added, “I never saw a cowboy with chaps that clean or tight before.” I looked where he was looking and rolled my eyes.

  I said, “That isn't even real leather. See there is a pressed line down the middle. You can't press leather.”

  “I feel overdressed.”

  “You are. However, I fit right in. Let me do some talking, while you get us some food and drinks.”

  “Considering the District of Columbia is less than seventy square of your miles, I am dubious of the Trout and Stout's claim to fame.”

  “I haven't had a decent fish and chips since I came the Republic, but I'm always eager to try. Why don't you be a dear and see if we can get it to go?”

  Dorian looked properly put out, but went and placed our orders. I, however, started scanning the racks by the restroom facilities. I was looking through ads for properties and personals, while listening to a man singing about his lost horse, when I found a pamphlet for a D.C. walking tour. In it was a map of the immediate area and the capitol's outlying important buildings, including the Pentagon. Bingo. I scanned it and determined that we were still too far out for my liking. I pocketed the map.

  I turned around to look for Dorian and almost bumped into a man checking me out. He stood way too close for my liking. I tried to step around him and he stepped right with me. I thought it might have been an accident, but realized my mistake when I stepped to the opposite side, and he mirrored me and smiled.

  I really looked at him now and realized he was past the threshold for public drunkenness. When he saw me looking him over, he smiled even bigger, revealing a grin that had all his teeth capped in gold. I knew he was going to be trouble. Those teeth weren’t capped for
fun.

  My goal had been to leave the tavern, with pamphlet and food in hand, and that plan did not include flirting with a drunken paper pusher. My luck had run out.

  I smiled back and said, “Hi.”

  He slurred, “Hiiii, darling. What'ssss a purty thang like you doing in a place like this?”

  I could feign that Dorian was my husband, but he would probably call me on it since I didn't wear a ring on my ring finger. The only exception being the credit ring that S.O.A.R. issued its agents, which I was no longer wearing. From experience, I knew that it probably wouldn't matter one bit to him if I said Dorian was my beau or fiance. I was considered fair pickings without that ring. I would have bought a ring years ago for just this purpose, but rings can get caught during a fight, so I had avoided them to my detriment now.

  “Wanna dance?” he asked.

  “Sure thang, handsome,” I drawled. He grabbed for me, but I stopped him with my hand on his chest and said, “I will dance with you if you can get a faster step going for the next song. Dying horses brings back bad memories for me. I'm much more fun if I’m in a festive mood.”

  He winked at me and said, “Sway right here.” Did he just say sway instead of stay? “I'll be right back purty cowgirl.”

  He took off and I estimated I had about two minutes to get myself out of there. Once his back was turned and he made for the karaoke machine, I made myself scarce. I scanned for Dorian, but didn't see him. I decided not to stop, but continued right out the door and into the night.

  I walked up to a mechcarriage and told the coachman Dorian's description. I then said that I would pay him triple his fare to retrieve him if he could take us to a residential area that would be just close enough, but not too close to the Pentagon. I estimated we had about forty minutes left to get into position. After much disagreement, he finally agreed.

  About ten minutes later, the huge barkeeper began helping several people out of the tavern, including Dorian. He slid into the carriage with a shiner and a delicious smelling, greasy food bag. I told the coachman to take us now, and he set the horses with coal. Then we were off. However, Dorian seemed greatly agitated.

  I asked, “How did you get the black eye?”

  “Some rough rider came up to me asking about a little strawberry blonde who promised him a dance and if she couldn't, would I?”

  Of course, in this case the dancing would have another meaning, one involving fists. That man must have been even more out of sorts than I had thought.

  Then Dorian did something totally unexpected, he smiled and said, “Yeah, you should have seen him when I was done with him.” His face was much more pleasing when he was smiling, rather than his typical frown.

  “Indeed.” I replied with a sly smile. Obviously, the man in the tavern must have not have been able to leave of his own accord, if he wasn't thrown out with Dorian. I noticed that Dorian's shiner was nearly gone now. Mine still smarted from Merry’s head-butt.

  ···•Ͽ Ѡ Ͼ•···

  We finally made it to the residential area and I paid the coachman his due. Then we started searching for vacant houses. We found a small Colonial and went around to the back, where a two- story hedge blocked any view that a nosy neighbor might have had of the property. I used my lock pick, and presto, we were in. We had scarcely twenty minutes before the bomb was set to go off, so I started looking over my weapons and lining them up on a small table in a very neat and organized manner. He placed his pocket watch onto the table next to my weapons, so we could both watch the time click down.

  “I bet your home is immaculate.”

  I didn't look up from my chore, but replied, “Everything has its proper place.”

  “Where is your proper place, Wendy?”

  “Houses are just houses, Dorian. I don't really have a home.”

  “A lady without a home is like a fish out of water.”

  I looked up at him, “You're worried.”

  “Of course I'm worried. Lovecraft is dabbling in black magic, which might open a gate between realms, and who knows what will be waiting on the other side of it? I fancy a good fight, but we've had our fair share over the last couple of days.”

  “At least he's only trying to open a gate to the demon realm and not the Fairy realm.”

  “Are you so certain about that?”

  “I'll take the unknown, over the known, in this case.”

  Then he changed topics quicker than I did, when he asked, “What did the chiromancer say to you, Gwendolyn?”

  My hand shook and I dropped a dart I was reloading into my cache. It made a loud noise as it struck the table's surface.

  I looked at him now and said, “Not much of anything that made sense, Dorian.”

  “Are you certain about that?”

  I huffed, “She said that there were two people in my life. One was good and one was bad. I needed to stay away from the bad one. Fat lot of good that'll do me. Doesn't take a genius to figure out which one she was referring to when she said I should stay away from a bad person.”

  “She obviously had a lot more to tell me, than you, then,” he said.

  “Do tell, Lord Grey,” I said as I sat back in the chair awaiting to hear his tale.

  “I need a partner in the Agora. I too have lost one too many colleagues and they won't assign me one anymore. I don't like working alone. I have spent enough time alone in my life chasing my own dragons, to be frank. Whereas, you would rather not be teamed up with anyone, because you are afraid that you would be responsible if some fatal accident might befell him. I do not die that easily. Be my partner.”

  I paused. I hadn't really thought what the Agora would use me for when and if I ever made it across the pond. If I were being totally honest with myself, I would have to admit that it was somewhat fun working with Dorian. I confessed, “I'm tired of only wet work. I want something more than mindlessly killing people.”

  “My primary goal was not to investigate the shakers or even recruit Tesla, although those are not unusual assignments for me.”

  “It wasn't?”

  “No.”

  The silence stretched between us.

  “It was to recruit you.”

  My brain paused.

  “We are aware that investigating is not your usual line of work, but we feel that you have incredible potential.” I didn't know what to make of that. “I asked for you in particular,” he told me.

  How did I garner such attention? I always kept things quiet. At least I thought I did. “You've come to our attention.” Then it was his turn to pause. “You've come to my attention. I know you have agreed to join up when we clear up all this business in the Republic, but will you agree to only partner with me?”

  “They are going offer me a choice of agents?”

  “More than likely they already have someone else in mind.”

  My gut reaction was of course not, but I had to be smart about this. I took a precious minute to think it through. Probably too long. Dorian looked unsettled. But when I thought about the last few days, I had to agree that this was more fun than simply killing someone. We were also compatible. He didn't annoy me, except when he was being evasive and mysterious. Maybe it was me that liked the mystique of him.

  I smiled and said, “I will agree to be only your partner.” I wasn’t particularly interested in having to get to know someone else, anyway.

  That was when the bomb blew a hole in the side of the neighborhood. I glanced at Dorian's watch and it was a full ten minutes off. I would have to make sure Tesla knew how to get in touch with Jeremy's mother, if we all made it through to the other end of this, so that he could get some accurately timed detonators.

  Chapter 24

  The Gate into Hell

  “The Metamorphosis has saved my life more times than I can count.”

  -Wendy Darling, After almost dying a true death in a most heinous manner, 2232

  From Dorian's Journal of Memorable Quotes to Live By

  Once the dust sett
led from the ceiling, we slipped into the night. It was easy to see where the epicenter was once you followed the line of increasing destruction through the neighborhood. We kept to the shadows, which was easy since the entire area was now off the electrical grid. Only the occasional oil lamp was spotted with people out in the streets trying to survey the damage.

  Children cried, mothers shushed, and the men dug through remains looking for survivors and lost family heirlooms. No one noticed two strangers like us rushing past their homes. They probably thought that we were rushing to aid some relative in need. I didn't care as long as we got to the epicenter before Lovecraft could call forth whatever he wanted from the gate I was certain that he would create.

  Finally, the center was in plain sight. We took a moment to prepare our weapons behind the last wall standing. Dorian had out only one of his Colts, since Tesla still had his other one. I readied my widow and then slung it around my back. I flipped on the Westinghouse to charge and then handed it to Dorian.

  I looked out across the artificial abyss and noted that Lovecraft had not made his appearance yet. I wondered if he would be alone, caught unawares, or if he would have his entire guard with him. Best to be prepared for anything. I loaded three of the magic rounds in one of my pistols and then left the regular iron bullets in the other.

  Dorian asked, “Do you think that you could make us both invisible in order to get us to the center when Lovecraft shows? It would be nice to sneak up on him.”

  “You don't think I'll be able to take him out from here?”

  “Look at that wind and ash. It would be challenging for even the most accomplished sharpshooter with a long-range rifle, but I don't think that would be the only barrier.

  “I think he might erect some kind of magical barrier when he creates the circle from which to conduct his magic. Three years is a long time to wait for a bomb to go off. I think that whoever set the thing up for Tesla might have sold him out. I bet there is already one of those bastardized circles engraved in that cement under the ashes and is ready to be quickened into activation.