Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess (8 page)

It had all been followed by a long day of listening to boring speeches, and aiding in the selection of a new town council. Finally, Klaus and Lucrezia were alone with each other. It was the first time in over a week, but Klaus felt like it had been months.

The room itself was only small by the rather grand standards of the rest of the castle. It was entirely dominated by a colossal curtained bed. Layer upon layer of sumptuous hangings in a riot of velvet, satin and brocade were drawn back by ropes of gleaming tasseled silk, showing off yet more layers of gorgeousness. Exquisitely inlaid rosewood cabinets lined the walls. These were oiled and polished to a luxurious glow, which reflected the warm light from the lamps, and made it seem to hang in the air like a luxuriant golden mist.

When Klaus had first entered the room, he had wandered around a bit, opening cabinets. Idly, at first, but with more and more astonishment at each reveal, until he had finally given up and poured himself a calming drink from the magnificently stocked liquor cabinet. Apparently, the Chatelaine had truly been a connoisseur of decadent excess.

Lucrezia, of course, loved the place. She had watched his explorations with open amusement as she stood in front of one of the room’s many ornate mirrors, slowly letting down her hair. When he had retreated to the bed, she had laughed and turned to face him.

Ah,
that
was a memory he knew would remain forever. Lucrezia standing, looking at him, slowly stalking him, her face taking on that hungry look she only showed when they were alone. She was dressed in a velvet bustier and a sheer pair of harem trousers—the ones he had purchased for her as a joke last time he was in Morocco. The joke was on him now. The trousers provided a tantalizing glimpse of her legs and clung to the lovely swell of her hips. She raised one arm above her head and posed, leaning on one of the bed posts. Then, still holding the post, slowly bent forward, deliberately straining her overstuffed top. He knew how much she loved to tease him, but he didn’t mind. It was a game they had played together for a long time now, and the outcome was always a win for both.

He allowed himself to run his eyes over her appreciatively, and was so caught up in what he saw that what she was saying didn’t register for almost half a minute. When it did, it jolted Klaus out of his reverie cold.

“You
what
?”

Lucrezia smiled and exaggeratedly rolled her eyes before turning away. She gently swayed her hips as she selected a dusty cut glass ewer and slowly poured something cherry red into a small crystal goblet.

“There’s no need to
shout
, darling,” she sighed in that breathy tone of hers that always sent shivers down his spine. She turned about and posed again, with the drink in her hand. “I’m going to marry Bill Heterodyne. He asked me yesterday…
finally.
”

She raised the glass to her lips, but paused as Klaus interrupted.

That had been very well played.

“Lucrezia, are you out of your mind?”

She laughed delightedly and with a single, graceful move, moved onto the bed before him. Her hand slid delicately along his jaw. “Oh, you’re so sweet,” she said. She then sharply slapped him, and began to breathe a bit faster. “I
knew
you’d take it hard.” She bit her lower lip and looked into his eyes.

She had amazing eyes. Green, deep and oh, so dangerous. “But I’m going to do it. I’m going to renounce my father’s work and join up with the ‘Good Guys.’”

Before Klaus could reply, she’d spun about and leaned back against his broad chest. This afforded him both the fragrance of her hair, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and carbolic acid, and a magnificent view of her cleavage. That was so like her. Lucrezia would never play only a deuce when she had a death ray as well.

Klaus closed his eyes. This didn’t really help. “Oh, and
I
don’t count?”

She shrugged against him. “Oh, Klaus. You may work with them—but you have far too much of a dark side of your own.”

Klaus tried to analyze this. Thinking was always so… difficult with this woman around. “Oh?” he squeezed her shoulders gently. “So do you.”

She laughed delightedly, spun about again and was kneeling in his lap, one hand gently tousling the back of his head. “Oh, I certainly
do!
But that’s what you
like
about me, isn’t it?”

His eyes flicked down momentarily. They both smiled. “One of the things,” he conceded. His arms tightened around her.

She made a small movement with the hand holding the goblet. He loosened his grasp. She daintily placed the drink—

the still untouched drink—

on the bedside table, and then suddenly, she was on the other side of the mattress, just out of his reach, coyly looking at him over one exquisite shoulder. The light was perfect.

Had she planned that?

“Now Bill
knows
that I’m bad, but he thinks I can change.”

Klaus snorted. “He’s wrong. They think that about
everybody
. I know you too well. You’ll soon be bored out of your mind, and you’ll
try
something.” He had a sudden moment of realization. “In fact, this is probably all one of your schemes right now, isn’t it?”

That had thrown her. Klaus knew he had been one of the very few people who could do that, which probably explained everything. Had it been too late, even then?

She looked at him seriously, no doubt for the only time that entire day.

“No, Klaus. This isn’t a game. I am determined to change. I
do
love him. It should be enough.” A brief look of frustration flickered across her face. “Besides, they
always win.
There must be
something
to their philosophy.”

There. Then. That was when he should have gotten out of bed. Commandeered a coach, or an airship, or anything. Left town and gone back home. Locked himself in and got to work in his long-neglected laboratory on something… anything that didn’t involve tearing across the countryside with bombastic heroes and their barking mad enemies and their enemies’ beautiful daughters… instead, he’d been weak, fool that he was. Instead, he had simply leaned forward and fixed her with a stern look.

“This isn’t about philosophy,” he growled. It came out louder than he had intended. “Bill is my friend. I won’t let you—”

She looked up at him and smiled. “Is that how you plan to change my mind?” she whispered, “By
shouting
at me?”

And then her mouth was under his lips, her body locked in his arms, and he in hers…

Much later, the lights of the village below still gleamed in the darkness as they collapsed for the final time. Klaus lay back, breathing deeply, the sweat drying from his skin. Lucrezia opened her eyes and languidly rolled atop him. Klaus’s eyes opened wide in disbelief, but she merely began to gently tease her fingertips along the great scars that covered his chest.

Klaus relaxed and sighed in contentment, then reached out and snagged the goblet that Lucrezia had oh-so-casually placed next to him. He gratefully drank it down. The liquor was sweet and crisp, with an unfamiliar tang.

Lucrezia watched him with heavy-lidded satisfaction, then a wistful smile spread across her face. “Oh Klaus,” she whispered. “I
will
miss you. But I’m afraid I simply can’t have you around
complicating
things.” She ran her fingertip along his shoulder. “If
only
by being such a temptation.” She sighed and snuggled against him. “I’m afraid you really
will
have to go,” she said in a small, sad voice.

Klaus had smiled. “Hah!” he chuckled, “Anghowr d’jer thirg yg—”

He paused. That statement hadn’t come out as he’d expected. He’d stared at the empty goblet in his hand. The goblet Lucrezia had filled
hours
ago. The goblet she hadn’t drunk from. The goblet she’d—

“My
dring
,” he enunciated as clearly as he could. “Hyu
pzind
by
dring
.”

Her face swam into focus. She must’ve crawled right up to stare directly into his face—watching him with a charming scientific interest. “Not
poison
, silly,” he heard her chiding him from a thousand kilometers away, “I’m one of the
Good
Guys now, remember?” She leaned in and chastely kissed his nose. “Goodbye, darling.”

He reached for her as everything collapsed into blackness…

No, this was pointless indulgence. He had years ago realized that his grave mistake had not been made that night in the castle in the mountains. No, it had been made long before that, made when he had first known what Lucrezia was, and yet allowed himself to fall into a delicious, dangerous romance, instead of running for the hills as any sensible person would have done. Well, Sparks were not known for being sensible, but Klaus had liked to think he was above all that…

Baron Klaus Wulfenbach made an exasperated noise as he resurfaced from the memories that had held him captive. He shifted his weight trying to sit up, then grit his teeth in pain. At the foot of the bed, Doctor Merrliwee, a trim, serious-faced woman, glanced up from the machine she was adjusting and made a quick, no-nonsense gesture before returning her attention to her instruments.

The doctor’s assistant bustled over and adjusted Klaus’ pillows. “Please try not to move too much while the doctor is working, Herr Baron.” Klaus ignored her and glared at the golden locket in his hand, the beautiful face of Lucrezia smiling back at him from the frame. Set facing her, in the other half of the locket, was a matching miniature of Bill Heterodyne—his old friend—so young—smiling happily. The painter had captured their likenesses with breathtaking skill.

Lucrezia had married Bill, as she said she would, and by all reports, been happy, for a time. He had been glad to hear that. But… what had happened to them? Where
were
they? Lucrezia had done such a good job of putting Klaus out of the way… it had taken him
years
to return home. And when he
had…

He was no closer to knowing now than when he had fought his way home to find Europa in ruins. And now, after all this time, there was a girl. Lucrezia and Bill’s daughter. Raised by Bill and Barry’s old constructs, Punch and Judy, no less. And for some reason kept hidden away—a secret—apparently from
him.
Why? Hadn’t he traveled with them? Fought by their sides through all kinds of adventures? Weren’t they his old friends?

Klaus turned the locket over in his hand, and examined the back. It was a strange little device—and now that it was broken open—obviously much more than just a simple piece of jewelry. It had been taken from the soldier captured along with the Heterodyne girl back in Beetleburg, but it was obviously not the soldier’s property. It even had the girl’s name and address on the back. When questioned, the soldier, whose name was Moloch Von Zinzer, confessed to having first stolen the locket, then broken it by throwing it against a wall in a fit of rage. It was large and sturdy, the front decorated with the famous stylized trilobite of the Heterodynes. That, in itself, was not unusual. Throughout Europa, it was common for anyone with any kind of affiliation—to one of the Great Houses, old noble families, Universities, guilds or fraternal orders—to wear a sigil proclaiming their connection. A large pin at the throat was the most usual place for this little bit of heraldry. There were no official regulations about who was allowed to wear what—as long as one was willing to risk embarrassing misunderstandings, or even the possible wrath of legitimate members of the group in question—one could wear what one liked. The trilobite of the Heterodynes was worn everywhere, and simply marked the wearer as one of the vast group of people who loved stories of the Heterodyne Boys and their adventures. And yet… Klaus thought… for this girl—this new Spark who had slipped through his fingers, it had been the real thing—but how could he have
known?

The locket opened on recessed hinges, revealing the portraits. Simple enough, to any casual observer. But the impact that had broken the mechanism had also caused the back of the case to pop off—to expose a small compartment behind Lucrezia’s portrait. A similar compartment lay behind Bill’s—Klaus had pried it open during his initial examination. The hidden mechanisms inside were now laid bare—strange watch-like movements that needed special lenses to see clearly. But this was clearly not a device for telling time. Deep within the framework of the tiny assemblage, Klaus could see fantastically coiled springs that powered tuning forks as delicate as human hairs.

Klaus had always had an artistic eye. This meant that, when dealing with Sparks, he was often able to identify the creator of a particular piece of technology through nothing more than their stylistic quirks—the type of gearing they preferred, for instance, or the type of stitching on a construct. Because of this knack, he was able to identify this locket and its mechanism as the work of Barry Heterodyne. And yet… it was more sophisticated, more…
intense
than anything he had ever before seen his friend create. Barry had always been a mechanical genius, it was true, but this little machine was a new high. It was clear to Klaus that his friend had poured everything he had ever learned into this little device. It would take time and careful study to understand its full potential.

Normally, Klaus would have found this exhilarating. An intellectual puzzle of this caliber came along all too rarely. Unfortunately, the appearance and escape of the girl, and all these implied, left him no time for such amusements. There was going to be trouble because of this, and it would require swift action.

Doctor Merrliwee straightened up and slipped a screwdriver into a loop at her belt. She then coughed discreetly. Klaus looked up. She had apparently finished tuning the speed-healing engine she had bolted around his leg, and was now about to activate it. She raised one eyebrow. “Are you ready, Herr Baron?”

Klaus took a deep breath and nodded. The Doctor nodded back, and flipped a series of switches. The machine chugged slowly to full power, lights began to flash, and a wave of hot, pulsing pain caused Klaus to clench his teeth so hard that stars swam across his vision. It would have to be endured. There was no time to allow himself the luxury of normal healing.