A puff of cigar smoke brought Vonken awake, coughing. The
grey, drooping moustache and sharp grey eyes of James Lappeus drew back a bit,
his expression impassive. “Have a swell nap there?” Lappeus drawled. He took
another drag on the cigar, and again, needlessly, expelled a foul cloud in
Vonken’s face. Vonken turned his head, instinctively moving to wave away the
smoke, but discovered his hands were still bound in the aetheric damping
gloves. He’d been lashed to the chair he sat in for good measure, thick hemp
cords numbing all sensation below his elbows and ankles. “Mornin’, sunshine,”
Lappeus said.
Vonken didn’t bother to reply. His eyes focused finally,
though pain throbbed behind them. He took a slow, attentive survey of his
surroundings. Not City Jail. Not the
Courthouse, either. He’d made a few trips to both, to heal, or to register a
patent. Well-mortared bricks made featureless walls in a wide but low-ceilinged
space; blocky columns interrupted the gloomy view in regular rows. Underground. A cellar somewhere. Too big to
be a private home. He noticed a couple of barrel kegs in one far corner, but
there didn’t seem to be enough of them to indicate he might be below one of the
saloons he knew Lappeus owned. Then he realized none of the men sitting around
on storage crates or rickety old chairs were uniformed as police officers. Oh, joy. So this is all off the books. I
could be anywhere.
One of the men, stoutly middle-aged but still sporting a
wild head of curly hair, suddenly grinned at him, and Vonken saw the family
resemblance to infamous old Jim Turk. Lappeus,
one of Turk’s sons, and oh damn and blast...is that John Mitchell’s son Sam?
It’s a damned rogues’ gallery of the Old City! Lappeus put a foot on the
chair arm, leaning it back a few inches, no doubt emphasizing how helpless
Vonken currently was. Vonken didn’t flinch. “Such esteemed company all
assembled for my benefit? How
flattering,” he said.
Lappeus smiled. “I believe you already know Sam Mitchell
here, finest lawyer in Concordia. He’s your counsel, to make sure this here’s
all fine and square.”
The Senator’s son made a mock-bow, and took a swig from a
silver flask. Vonken sneered. “How reassuring. So I’m to commit suicide in my
cell before trial, am I?”
“Trial? What makes you think you deserve a trial?”
Lappeus asked, dropping Vonken’s chair so roughly that his teeth jarred. “Don’t
you know sabotaging the Northern Pacific Airways Company is a treasonable
offence, subject to summary execution?”
It would be useless to protest. Vonken glared at
Villard’s curs, and tried to wriggle one hand free of the heavy gauntlets which
prevented him from building a charge of greenfire. A rumbling sound grew, more
steady than thunder, and plaster shook down from the crude ceiling. The station. Damn and hell, I’m under the
station. With trains coming and going...so I could scream my loudest and no one
would ever know. Wonderful. Whatever extra energy Holly had shot through
him had dissipated, and he felt a broad-range expulsion of power would do
little to—Holly! Have they harmed her?
He didn’t dare ask about her; if they didn’t already suspect her, any mention
surely would only drag her into further danger. As long as she stays at home, the wards will protect her for at least
another week before they begin to degrade...surely she’s busy tending to the
child. Safe for now.
He wasn’t sure how he was going to survive the night to
assist her.
The crack of a gloved fist caught him off-guard; his head
rocked back, he bit his tongue and tasted copper. Lappeus straightened once
more, shaking the sting out of his hand. “Now then,” the former chief of police
said amicably, “why don’t you start by telling me how you killed two of our
illustrious Founder’s servants during the conduction of their civic duty.”
Vonken worked his jaw painfully; not broken, but only thanks to the
‘spark-welded steel he’d carefully constructed. Hopefully Lappeus hurt as much
from the blow. Cigar smoke puffed through the room, much as the coalsmoke from
the steam engines did through the rail station above them. “Tell me everything,
and I can promise you I’ll just shoot you.” He lifted the edge of his coat to
reveal the six-shooter in its hip holster. “Anytime you answer wrong, though,
Frank Turk over there ain’t gonna like it. And Frank hits harder than his ol’ prizefighter pop, if you can believe it!” The
men all chuckled. Turk cracked his knuckles and grinned.
“I’m the only lawful citizen in this room,” Vonken
countered. He knew there was little point to protesting; they were going to beat
upon him no matter what. He might as well earn it. “You’re holding me illegally
and I demand a fair hearing, not this dead-man’s court!”
Lappeus looked regretful. “Wrong answer.” He puffed away
as a massive shadow blocked the lamplight.
Holy demons of the
Deep, that bastard is twice the size of a dune shark, Vonken thought.
As it turned out, Turk also knew that soft organs hurt a lot more than bones.
******************
The velocipede seemed almost a
thinking creature, the way it slipped around the corners of warehouses and mostly avoided the carts of marketmen
setting out from the wharves. Holly clenched the handles, her legs straining to
clamp tight to the saddle, yet she felt air whisk through her skirts every time
the ‘pede clattered over a curb. The smoothness of its gait had vanished when
they hit the cobbles of the southside streets. She felt relief for a moment as
the construct veered into the dirt of Wharfside streets, then yelped and yanked
the steering handles hard left to narrowly miss a washerwoman tottering along
with a high-piled basket upon her head. Startled curses briefly chased after
Holly. It certainly wasn’t the worst language she’d heard so far this morning.
She felt lost among the tall
warehouses, taking corners at random, breathless, until a flicker of red paint
flashed past. Holly gritted her teeth and leaned hard instinctively, forcing
the velocipede into a screeching about-face, metal segments scraping each other
as it did its best to comply. She nearly bowled over the handles, her bottom
flying up and landing painfully again, but stayed on the construct. She kicked
its sides again. “Hi, hiii!” The hundred legs skittered for purchase, found it,
and launched them back the way they’d come. She was ready this time, and turned
with far more aplomb – and less pain.
There! That horrible crab factory! The velocipede galloped to the
corner; Holly glanced up nervously, and saw the boards nailed over what had
been a window. The ‘pede swung around the building, and immediately Holly saw
the clinic...and realized how fast she was going.
“Stop! Stop! Whoooaa!” It hadn’t occurred to her she’d have to get off this foolhardy thing at some point.
She’d never even ridden a horse at a gallop, and the ‘pede undulated swiftly
enough to give any thoroughbred a good race. Struggling to stay on, she yanked
back the steering, but nothing happened. “Whooooaaaa!”
she cried. It’s Vonken’s creature,
how would he stop it, Dutch he uses Dutch— “Ho!”
Segments of scrap iron sheared
into one another, the seat of the ‘pede buckling upward, flinging Holly off.
She held to the left handlebar another instant, painfully whipping her whole
body around before she let go, ending up sprawled on her back in the dirt a few
feet past the clinic door. Metal clanked and groaned but didn’t, thankfully,
collapse atop her; the ‘pede shuddered and settled, stretching its segments out,
quivering finally like a giant worm in its final throes. She could only hope it
wasn’t damaged, not with a child’s life in the balance. Holly forced herself
up, though she glimpsed lines of blood on her legs and across her right palm.
She stumbled to the door and pounded upon it, desperation renewing her
strength. “Vonken!”
The door opened, but only the
nurse-construct stared back at Holly. Its green-glowing eyesockets unnerved
her, but it backed away, humbly gesturing for her to enter. Holly took in the
small room at a glance: neat, shining metal shelves, the examination table, the
tidy cabinets. No green-coated doctor. “Where is he? Is he out on rounds?”
Holly demanded. The nurse paused, then shook its head. “He must come at once!
Can’t you summon him somehow?”
The construct rolled to a stop by
a shelf. Holly followed, though for a second she thought she heard whispers.
She looked around, seeing no one else, feeling dizzy and sick. What a fine kettle, if you so badly injured
yourself that you can’t bear the return journey, Mikael’s voice scolded in
her head. She blinked at the mud trickling down her brow. She had to wipe it
away in irritation when the trickle wouldn’t stop, and saw red smeared on her
hand. The nurse was gesturing at her. What did it want? It pointed to a
blinking bulb of greenfire. “I don’t understand,” Holly said, and fumbled for a
handkerchief. There didn’t seem to be any in her pockets. The nurse creaked
closer, reaching for her head; Holly batted its arm away. “I’m fine, it was
only a tumble. I demand you summon Dr Vonken at once! Betsy...she’s...she
needs...”
“Betsy? What’s happened?”
The voice was too high-pitched for
the doctor. Holly turned, confused, to find a raggedy boy with dirty brown hair
staring at her. She vaguely recognized him; his name clicked into her memory
when she saw the round-cheeked blond girl hiding behind him. “Jeremy?”
“Told you it was that lady,” the boy said to his little sister. He
swung back to Holly. “What’s happened to Betsy?”
“She’s...not well,” Holly said.
“Why isn’t Vonken here? Where is he?”
“Dunno, Miss,” Jeremy replied,
looking at the blinking bulb on the wall. “Nurse Ratchet done sent for him
hours ago when we came in, but he ain’t come yet. We had to scatter last night
when Big Leo found our new digs.”
“Dunno, Miss. Hey, you oughta let
Nurse here take a look at that cut on your head...and all them other ones too,”
Jeremy advised, his eyes widening as he studied her. “What’d you do, fight
through the Watch to get here?”
“Fell off a velocipede. I’m fine;
please stop that!” She slapped away
the questing metal fingers of the nurse again. “That girl is going to die if
Vonken doesn’t come immediately!”
Jeremy’s sister burst into tears.
Holly paused, feeling guilty, then mustered her thoughts. “If he’s not here,
where else would he be? The hospital? Where does he live?”
“Further down by the river, in an
old bank, but you can’t go out there!” Jeremy protested as Holly turned to go.
“I most certainly can.”
“But Big Leo’s out there!” Holly
scowled at the boy, but he darted ahead of her to the door and peeked around
it. “Look, that’s him, foolin’ with your bug right now.”
“My bug? My bug!” Holly pushed the door fully open and strode out. The enormous
ogre poking at the downed velocipede glanced at her, then slowly straightened
with a dumbfounded expression at the bloodstreaked woman in torn skirts and
wild dark hair, bearing down on him like a mother hawk. “You! Get away from
that machine!”
The man must have built Celtic
stone rings in a previous life; he flexed arms thick as battering rams as he
planted his fists on his sides, and grinned at her. The sight of jagged,
yellowed teeth wasn’t nearly as hideous as the stench wafting from his unwashed
body. “Looka you, wench! Some Johnny smack you around on your knees? How’s
about you let me protect you?”
Holly didn’t pause to consider
what he might be implying; she marched right around the brute and swung one leg
over the saddle, then realized she was sitting backward. She ignored a hefty
chortle while she turned herself around, and woozily kicked her heels against
the velocipede’s sides. “Be off with you before I summon the Watch,” she told
the ogre, then called to the wide-eyed children peeping from the cracked-open
clinic door. “Which way to Vonken’s home?”
The ogre leaned in, placing a hand
upon the head of the velocipede. Metal keened under the pressure. “I heard that pansy had a doxy ‘round here.
You best find a new daddy, pumpkin,” the brute said, a chortle rumbling through
him and shaking the ‘pede. The portable quarantine chose that moment to flash its
warning X above her head, drawing Big
Leo’s piggish eyes away from her bosom.
Furious, Holly slapped at the
hamhock of a hand. It was like hitting the firm hide of a boar. “Take your hand
off my vehicle, and stand aside, cretin!”
Instead, Big Leo ran his other
hand down Holly’s arm. The quarantine X
kept flashing, but the brute either didn’t understand or didn’t care what it signified.
“Your doc ain’t gonna look after you no more, sweetling. Not since they dragged
him off for a li’l chat! You wanna
find him now, best go check the sewer ‘neath the station.”
Holly barely heard his words
through a miasma of nausea and growing rage. Past him, she could see two small,
horrified faces in the clinic doorway. Big Leo grinned, still fondling her arm,
making the quarantine warning glow strongly. Holly hoped he’d contract the
disease, and quickly. “Now how’s about we go have a li’l chat ourselves? I
won’t smack you around none, I promise...though you gonna be walkin’ like a
trail rider for a week!” His grip suddenly clamped around her wrist.
Crimson blurred her vision. Holly
released the welling fire in one hard shove. “Go to hell, you mongrel!” Big Leo’s fingers wrenched at her wrist
another second, and then he flew backward as though battered by a hurricane
gust. The clinic walls trembled when he smashed into one, then building and man
were still. Holly kept screaming at him. “You disgusting, hideous, unwashed ape!
How dare you lay a hand on me! That girl will die if you don’t get out of
my way right now!”
“Oh Deep Ones,” Jeremy gulped. He
raised his voice enough to catch Holly’s attention as she drew a breath, pain
ringing in her ears, redfire coursing through her hands. “Uh, Miss? Miss, I
think he’s about out of your way for
sure...”
Holly blinked. Her eyelids felt
sticky. Dazed, she sat still until the nurse-construct rolled from the clinic,
and a metal pincer-hand offered her a clean cloth smelling of pure alcohol.
Holly stared at it, realized wiping away the blood might help her see, and
accepted the cloth. It stung across her forehead, and she cursed, but her
purpose flared forth again now that obstacles had been cleared. Jeremy ventured
out far enough to peer on tiptoes at the crumpled, unmoving bulk in the dirt.
“Holy Damn, Miss...”
She found her voice, though her
throat felt raw. Had she been yelling? She had a vague memory of yelling. Why does everything hurt so? “Vonken. I
have to find –“
“If they’ve got him under the
station, Miss, that ain’t...” Jeremy paused, swallowed hard, and started over.
“I mean, if you’re one’a them ‘spark people like the doc, maybe you can...”
“Station? What does that mean, under the station?” Holly asked, and
tapped the velocipede with her heels. It wriggled weakly, segments clicking and
clanking into their approximate places along the spine. Clearly the rough ride
had done it harm; she hoped it could still speed her along. How much time has passed? I could already be
too late. “How could he be under
the station?”
“That’s where they take folks what
kick up too much of a fuss,” Jeremy said, anxiously watching her hands for some
reason. “Old Sheriff’s got a special room down there. They...they toss the
bodies out a chute at high tide. Everybody knows about it.”
“I’m not everybody,” Holly
snapped. She kicked the sides of the velocipede hard. “Hi! Hiii!” It turned with an ear-stabbing shriek of metal on metal, but
at least it turned, and began its awkward undulation, slowly mounting speed.
Holly turned it toward the heart of the city. She’d never heard of a secret
room beneath the Northern Pacific & Greater Concordia Railway and Steam Station,
but at least she knew where the damned place was, having seen off Mikael on journeys from there.
The ‘pede was still faster than
carriage travel. She held on grimly, indifferent to the red glow around her
fingers, hoping she’d be in time to prevent not one but two deaths.
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