Angel of Brass (21 page)

He’d foolishly hoped that he could somehow
climb high enough to leave behind the image of Molly’s face, her
eyes flashing angrily as she shouted at him.
I trusted her. I
trusted her like I never trusted anyone, not even Del. I thought
Molly was different.

I was a fool.

It hurt, a tearing sensation deep in his
chest, as if his mechanical heart had malfunctioned. He’d thought
that Molly had accepted him, accepted that he wasn’t normal, wasn’t
whole. He’d been wrong, it seemed.

I’m too broken for anyone to accept,
he thought, seeing again her horrified expression when he told her
about the man he’d killed. Tonight, he’d finally received the
reaction from her that he’d expected all along, one way or
another.

Tonight, she finally saw me for the monster I
am. And, even worse, now she saw Del as a monster, too.

Perhaps she’s right. Maybe it takes a monster
to love a monster. Maybe that’s why Father built us in the first
place. So we’d all be one happy family of monsters together.

Chapter 14

Molly sat back and pushed up her welding
goggles. “I think that’s done it,” she said.

After the doctor’s visit, Liam had improved
rapidly, so that within a few days he was able to return to the
institute to continue their work in the lab. Now, they stood
looking down at the device on the table between them. It was late,
and the building utterly silent, except for the soft moan of the
wind outside. Even the most die-hard professors and students had
long ago gone home.

Except for us. But then, I doubt anyone else
is working on something quite this important.

Liam nodded. “All right. Let’s test this
thing.”

They’d set up a small aetherwave transmitter
for the test. Liam switched it on, then checked to make sure that
the controller was operational. “Everything looks in place,” he
said.

Molly nodded. “Here’s hoping.”

The anti-controller hummed to life as she
flipped a switch on the box. It took a few minutes for it to warm
up. When it reached operating parameters, a small light on the top
blinked on.

Although there was no obvious change to be
observed, the gauge displaying the current within the controller
dropped to nothing.

“The controller is inert,” Liam confirmed.
“And it looks like the receiver isn’t picking up anything.
Excellent!”

Despite her weariness, Molly found herself
grinning. “I can’t believe it! I mean, I can, but I’m not sure I
really expected it to work.”

“Same here. But we did it!” Liam flung his
good arm around her, and they embraced, laughing and clapping each
other on the back. “This calls for champagne!”

“Saints, no,” Molly said, pulling away from
him with a grin. “Look at us—we’re barely on our feet. One sip and
we’d be lying on the floor.”

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right,” he conceded,
as she switched off the equipment.

Once everything was shut down, Molly tucked
the anti-controller in her bag and slung it over her shoulder.
“I’ll let Gibson know at the fȇte tomorrow night. For this to be
really effective, we’ll need to replicate the device.”

“I hope Gibson doesn’t expect you and I to do
it,” Liam said. “We’re only two students, and you’re the only one
who has both hands. There’s no way you can make enough of these to
guard against an army of shamblers.”

“I know. Maybe he’ll find someone in the
government labs who can help out.”

“To do that, he’ll have to figure out who to
trust.”

Trust. Now there’s a laugh
. She had
trusted Jin, and he had taken advantage of it to lie to her, to
keep secrets that could cost lives.
Would Gibson have trusted
Jin if I hadn’t vouched for him?

She doubted it. The thought of going to
Gibson at the fȇte and telling him that she’d been wrong about Jin
was humiliating.
How could I have been so stupid? He used me,
used my naïve trust, and I let him. Saints, Gibson’s going to think
I’m an idiot, and he’ll be right
.

And yet a part of her wanted to forgive Jin,
just so things could go back to the way they had been. The thought
of not talking to him, of not seeing him every day, made her
heartsick.
I can’t, though. I understand that he loves his
sister, just as I love Winifred, but he’s endangering people’s
lives by not telling the truth about her.

About them both. He said he killed a man.

And what does it say about me that I can
forgive that easier than I can forgive him for lying?

As they emerged into the cold evening air,
Molly wrapped her arms about herself with a shiver.
Saints, I
wish that Jin had fallen through someone else’s ceiling
.

* * *

Nothing.

Again.

Jin slumped against a convenient chimney and
admitted defeat. He’d spent almost every waking hour scouring the
city, searching desperately for the smallest hint as to where
Malachi might be holed up.

The weather had remained miserable all week,
matching his mood. The feathers in his hair lay sodden against his
cheeks and neck, and water gurgled loudly as it raced through the
gutters. A part of him knew that climbing, let alone leaping, from
one rooftop to the next was dangerous in such weather. The rest of
him just didn’t care any more.

He held up one hand and extended his claws,
watching the rain drip off the tips. His shirt clung to his arms,
gone nearly transparent with the wet, and he could see the brass
cover plates extending up his forearm.

Not all the rain in the world could wash the
blood off his hands. After he’d come to Chartown, after he’d met
Molly, he’d thought that everything would be different. That a new
chapter in his life had opened up.

But now I’m right back to the beginning. Del
and I have no one but each other.

Molly seemed to think that his loyalty to
Queen Rowena should trump his loyalty to Del. Only he didn’t
have
any loyalty to Queen Rowena, or Eroe, or any of it.
None of that had ever intruded into the insular world of Dr.
Malachi’s estate, and as a result, none of it mattered to him the
way it did to Molly.

Maybe it isn’t about loyalty
,
suggested a treacherous little voice.
Maybe it’s about doing
what’s right.

Jin snorted.
How would I know anything
about what’s right? Saints, look at who built me!

But that little voice refused to shut up.
If that were true, I wouldn’t have run when I did. I risked what
I knew would be my only chance to escape. If I’d been caught,
Malachi would have made sure that every hole in the security net
was plugged. But I did it anyway, I ran even though I hadn’t had
enough time to plan, because I couldn’t stand the thought of
killing people for no good reason that anyone ever told me.

I ran because I knew that, if I waited and
went through with Malachi’s plan, if I did what he asked...I’d
become like him. A monster in spirit as well as body.

And there it was. Malachi had no problem
killing hapless strangers. Had no problem robbing graves, or
subjecting people to his twisted experiments, or doing anything at
all. The only affection Malachi ever showed had been directed
toward Del and Jin.

And look what he did to us.

Whenever Del carried out her mission, Malachi
would be on hand, to keep her under tight control and make sure
that she did as she was told. For all Jin knew, after his escape,
Malachi might have taken the extra step and implanted some sort of
controller in Del, just to make sure that she didn’t rebel, too.
It would be just like him
.

Jin didn’t know what would happen if
Malachi’s scheme succeeded and Del assassinated the queen.
Obviously, Reynard wanted himself on the throne, but Jin couldn’t
even guess what effect the shift in power might have on the
ordinary citizens of Eroe. The resurrectionists stood to gain from
it; that was clear enough. It was even possible that Malachi also
stood to gain, that he hadn’t joined the conspiracy just because it
gave him a chance to test out the shamblers and the other horrors
he’d cooked up over the years.

If that were the case, if people like Malachi
were going to benefit, it didn’t seem to bode well for the ordinary
folk living under Reynard’s rule. People like Liam, and Winifred,
who’d never hurt anyone.

People like Molly.

Jin felt tears gathered on his eyelashes and
blinked rapidly, so that they broke free and slipped down his
cheeks.
I have to tell Gibson. Tomorrow night, at the ball. I
have to tell him.

I have to betray Del.

Jin tipped his head back to the sky and let
the cold rain mingle with his tears.

Chapter 15

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance of the
horse running wild, overturning the carriage, and getting us out of
attending the fȇte, is there?” Molly asked hopefully.

She, Winifred, and Gibson were crowded into
the Ellington carriage, on the way to the palace. As it turned out,
despite her best hopes for a last-minute reprieve, the fȇte
honoring Prince Five Jaguar had not been canceled after all. So she
had spent a wasted afternoon with Winifred: putting on her dress,
having her hair done by a maid, applying makeup, and donning the
jewelry her sister loaned her. The whole thing struck her as silly
and pointless, but Winifred obviously enjoyed every moment of it,
so Molly kept most of her complaints to herself.

“Not a chance,” Winifred said cheerfully.
“That’s the advantage of having a clockwork horse, you see. They
don’t get spooked.”

“It might malfunction.”

“We’re almost there,” Gibson said with a
smile. He wore a brown suit that, despite the quality of the cloth,
was rather plain. The watch on his cravat was particularly
resplendent, however. “Have I mentioned that both of you ladies
look lovely tonight?”

“Several times, my dear,” Winifred replied,
casting him an affectionate glance. Not wanting to be reminded of
romance at the moment, Molly glowered out the window. The palace
grounds were spectacularly lit, every residence suffused with
gaslight.
It’s practically a city unto itself. I wonder how many
people live here?

The carriage pulled up in front of the
palace, and a footman smartly opened the door. Gibson climbed out,
then helped Winifred and Molly down.

From the outside, the palace looked like a
confection of marble and brass. Molly caught a glimpse of the
Spinning Tower, which slowly rotated so that it returned to the
same position once an hour.
I wonder if there is any possibility
of getting a tour of the inner workings, or at least the engines in
the sub-basement
. Finely crafted clockwork butlers opened and
closed the doors leading inside, bowing as they did so, while
others offered flutes of wine to the newly-arrived guests.

The carriage had let them out near the
entrance to the grand ballroom. A flight of wide steps led to the
massive doors; from inside came the voice of a seneschal announcing
each new arrival. Molly knew better than to ask if they could sneak
in through the patio doors, and so took the arm Gibson offered her
and trudged up the steps.

The seneschal bowed formally when they
entered. “Lord Gibson Rathburn Ellington,” he boomed in a voice
that carried even over the music, conversation, and laughter,
“accompanied by Lady Winifred Feldman Ellington and Miss Margaret
Esther Feldman.”

A few eyes turned toward them as Gibson
escorted them inside. The lavish dresses and bright waistcoats,
combined with glittering gold and jewels, turned the room into a
confusing kaleidoscope of color and light. Gaslight glowed from
gilded fixtures along the walls, and the crystals of a great
chandelier threw tiny rainbows over the dancers below.

Molly caught a flurry of activity out of the
corner of her eye. “Winifred!” called a voice loud enough to give
the seneschal a run for his money.

Well, that was fast
, she thought with
a sinking heart. Turning, she saw her mother rushing toward them,
her father trailing far behind.

“My darling, how
are
you?” their
mother exclaimed, taking Winifred’s hands and kissing her on each
cheek. “Oh, and Gibson, you’re looking splendid as always,
absolutely splendid!”

“Hello, mother,” Winifred said, with a quick
wink in Molly’s direction.

Gibson gave their mother a smile and bowed
over her hand. “Mrs. Feldman, you look stunning as ever.”

He
is
a good actor
. True to
form, their mother wore a lavish dress, which displayed more money
than taste. A very young girl might have been able to pull off all
those ruffles and ribbons, but no one could ever look good in a hat
that included a clockwork bird-of-paradise, which was even now
serenading them in an off-key voice.

Mrs. Feldman simpered. “Thank you, you
adorable rogue. Winifred, I can pass along the name of my
dressmaker.”

With the ease of long practice, Winifred
managed to smile and sound sincere when she said, “That would be
lovely, Mother.”

Their mother unfolded a lace fan. The heat of
the ballroom seemed to be disrupting the thick layers of makeup she
wore. “So, my dear, when are you going to make me a
grandmother?”

Winifred’s smile became fixed, and Molly
silently cursed their mother. Surely she knew that Winifred would
love to have a child—how could she not realize that pointing it out
would be painful?

Mother probably doesn’t even consider
Winifred’s feelings. She’s probably decided that they just aren’t
trying hard enough and need her encouragement.

Fortunately, their father caught up at that
moment. His round face was red, whether from exertion or drink,
Molly didn’t care to speculate. “Hullo, Winifred, Gibson,” he said
with a vague smile. “How are classes going, Molly?”