Angel of Brass (23 page)

“Ugh.” Molly made a face. “I don’t think I’ll
be going into politics anytime soon.”

“It’s a dirty business.”

They stayed well out of the way, so Molly
didn’t more than glimpse the prince’s face from a distance. Even
so, she couldn’t interpret his expression as one of delight. Queen
Rowena was beside him, and at her elbow—smiling and whispering in
her ear—was a man Molly recognized from the papers. Duke
Reynard.

I see why Gibson was so worried. It will take
ironclad evidence to convince the queen of his guilt.

Saints, I hope Jin recognizes someone when he
gets back. We need a major breakthrough.

Once the royal party had retreated, Winifred
finished the last of her wine and put the glass on the nearest
wandering trolley. “The men certainly are taking a while,” she
said, and Molly thought she heard a trace of concern in her
voice.

“Should we go out on the patio?” she
murmured.
How does one do this sort of thing, anyway? How
concerned do we have to be about someone noticing anything out of
the ordinary?

“No,” Winifred said firmly. “I’m sure they’ll
be back soon.”

Molly glanced at her own empty wine glass. “I
think I’ll get another glass. Would you like one?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Molly slipped into the crowd, glad to be
moving. The longer Jin was gone, the more nervous she grew about
his return. In her distraction, she walked straight into a
generously cut waistcoat of gold-stitched brocade. Startled, she
took a quick step back to take in the entire gentleman. “Forgive
me, sir, I—”

Words failed her, and her mouth went dry.
Looming over her was none other than the queen’s favorite, Duke
Reynard.

* * *

“Well?” Gibson prompted, his brows drawing
together in concern. “What did you have to tell me that’s so
urgent?”

Jin was glad that he didn’t have to worry
about his palms sweating. “It’s about me. And Del,” he started.
“This is hard to say.”

Gibson sat on the edge of the fountain and
crossed his legs, but his eyes were hard and sharp. “We have as
much time as you need. Talk.”

Jin opened his mouth, then hesitated. “Did
you hear something?”

Gibson listened, then shrugged. “The garden
is a popular place for lovers, even on cold nights like this
one.”

“I see.” Jin swallowed, “Well, as I said,
this is hard. Del and I...we were meant to...we—”

The evergreen hedge rustled in three separate
places.

Gibson rose to his feet and pulled a discreet
ray gun from his pocket. Falling in back-to-back with him, Jin
ripped off his gloves and flung them aside.

No. Oh, please, no.

“Show yourselves!” Gibson commanded.

Instinct screamed through Jin, and he hurled
himself forward at the exact instant that the nearest smiling man
burst through the hedge. He slashed with his claws, but caught only
cloth.

“Run!” he shouted at Gibson. “I’ll try to
hold them! Just run and get help!”

The captain of the smiling men stepped onto
the path, its mouth frozen in a horrible grin. “Oh no. I don’t
think so.”

Gibson fired, but the captain’s reflexes were
better, and the shot missed. The hedge burst into flames; then
smiling men were swarming from all over. Jin slashed wildly, and
felt his claws hit flesh this time.

His triumph was short-lived. Arms closed
around him, one pinning his elbows to his sides, the other
tightening across his neck in a chokehold. “Oh no, Master Jin,” the
captain crooned in his ear. “You’ve been a very, very naughty
boy.”

The captain jerked him violently around, so
that he saw Gibson, standing with his back to the fountain. There
were three smiling men, counting the captain, which meant that if
Gibson could just shoot one or two, they might have a chance...

The fourth leapt soundlessly from behind him,
arms outstretched. It caught Gibson, spinning him around. Gibson’s
eyes widened in terror, and he brought up his gun, but the smiling
man had already lowered its head, jaw gaping hideously wide. Gibson
cried out—a cry that ended abruptly.

“No,” Jin whispered, stunned. “No! Damn you
all to hell!”

“Oh no, young master,” the captain whispered
in his ear. “I think it is you who are damned.”

Its arm tightened remorselessly around Jin’s
throat, cutting off his breath. Choking, Jin fought like a mad
thing, until his vision went dark.

* * *

“Excuse me, my lord,” Molly stammered,
dropping into an automatic curtsey. Her voice shook, and her palms
broke out in a cold sweat.
He knows.

Don’t panic; don’t panic; don’t panic. He
doesn’t know. Couldn’t know. Just stay calm
.

Hoping that she didn’t look guilty, Molly
straightened and glanced up at Reynard. He took a sip from his wine
glass, regarding her with a small frown. “Who are you, girl?” he
asked.

How rude!
But no doubt a duke could
afford to be rude, especially one bent on making himself a king.
“M-Molly Feldman, sir,” she said.
I’m no one, no one at
all
.

“That sounds familiar.” He stepped closer,
and her heart contracted. He smelled of patchouli and wine, and she
distantly noted the fine tracery of broken veins in his cheeks as
he leaned over her. “Ah, yes. You’re Gibson Ellington’s wife,
aren’t you?”

“Sister-in-law, my lord,” she murmured,
trembling.

“I see.” He lifted one hand and trailed his
nails along her cheek. It took everything she had not to flinch
away. “And how are you enjoying the fȇte, Molly Feldman?”

She swallowed against a hard knot,
irrationally terrified.
What can he do in the middle of the
ballroom?
“It’s wonderful, s-sir.”

He touched her spectacles, half-lifting them
from her face. “Without these, you might be passable enough,” he
murmured. “What do you say? Are you a savory bit? I’ll bet Gibson
has taught you well, hasn’t he?”

The ice enveloping her bones threatened to
freeze her heart. “I don’t know what you mean, my lord,” she
gasped.
If he says one more word, I will scream. I will scream,
and scream, and we’re in the middle of the ball, so he’ll act as
though I’ve gone mad, but that doesn’t matter, because at least it
will get me away from him
.

“Of course not.” Thank the saints, his hand
withdrew, but Molly didn’t dare relax, not yet. “Well, then. I’ll
see you later, Miss Feldman. Until then, watch where you step.”

She mumbled some response, then turned and
fled, her initial errand forgotten. Fighting not to cry, she
stumbled back to where Winifred waited.

Winifred’s eyes widened. “What’s wrong?” she
gasped, grabbing Molly’s arms. “Dear saints, what’s happened?”

Molly wrestled down the fear that threatened
to choke her. “R-Reynard,” she started.

The distant sound of a woman’s scream cut
through the music and the chatter of people.

Molly stiffened. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes. It came from outside.” Winifred began
to walk—not run, no, not yet—in the direction of the patio.

The air outside had grown noticeably colder.
A second scream split the air, louder now that they were closer to
the source. People who had been dancing moments before ran into the
garden, and more shouts joined the continued screams.

Exchanging glances, the two sisters broke
into a run. Marble chips crunched under their feet as they followed
the winding paths, and their skirts tangled their legs and snagged
on rose bushes. The hedges drew back, revealing a small grotto of
sorts, with a silent fountain in the center. Molly caught a glimpse
of a young woman, sobbing into the shoulder of her escort; perhaps
they had come here for privacy.
Then she started screaming, and
not because of anything he did. What’s going on?

Then their father caught Winifred in his arms
and brought her to a sharp halt. “Winifred, no! You—you don’t want
to see this.”

The people in front of her blocked Molly’s
view, but taller Winifred apparently caught a glimpse of whatever
their father was trying to shield her from. Her eyes went wide, and
all the color drained from her face.

“
Gibson!”
she screamed.
“No!
Gibson!”

Her nails clawed at their father’s face;
startled, he let her go. Winifred shoved past him, stumbled a few
steps, and fell to the ground, shrieking incoherently.

Feeling as though she were caught in a
nightmare, Molly followed her sister. When she finally saw what had
caught Winifred’s attention, she stopped.

Gibson. He’s...he’s dead.

The gleam of silver thread caught her eye
from near one hedge. Numb with shock, she picked up Jin’s
gloves.

Smiling men. They killed Gibson. Jin tried to
fight back with his claws. He didn’t succeed.

They killed Gibson, and they took Jin. Back
to Dr. Malachi. Back to the one place Jin was willing to risk death
to escape.

They knew. Somehow, they knew he would be
here. Was Gibson killed because he was a witness...or because he
was a threat?

Gibson had a traitor in his ranks.

She lifted the gloves to her face and took a
deep breath, holding in the fading traces of Jin’s scent.
Oh,
Jin. I never even told you that I love you
.

On the patio behind her, the clockwork
musicians played on.

Chapter 16

Jin opened his eyes to find himself lying on
a couch, in a room whose homey furnishings couldn’t quite hide the
industrial pipes, heavy-duty iron fans, and oak beams that
suggested a factory or machine shop. Smiling men stood to either
side of the exit, and their captain bared metal teeth at Jin.

Beside the couch stood the tall, trim form of
Dr. Malachi.

As usual, he was impeccably dressed. Today he
wore a dove-gray suit, with a silver-striped waistcoat. The device
hanging from a gold chain on his chest might have started life as a
pocket-watch, but now sported a bizarre series of dials and gauges.
A heavy set of goggles obscured his eyes; various lenses stuck off
at different angles, waiting to be snapped into place as needed.
His hair and beard were iron gray, and framed a long, austere
face.

Seeing that Jin was awake, Dr. Malachi
hurriedly bent over him. “How are you feeling, son? Let me get you
some water.”

Numb with despair, Jin took the glass Malachi
poured for him.
It was all for nothing. I’m right back where I
started.

Malachi sat back on his heels. “Would you
like to eat? I made sure we had all your favorites: pineapple,
grapes, tomatoes. And cheese; I know how much you enjoy a good
sharp cheddar.”

“Where are we?” Jin asked, ignoring the
offer. The ache in his head had receded slightly, and everything
seemed more solid and less fuzzy around the edges. He sat up
slowly, taking another look around the room as he did so. There was
a table laden with the food Malachi had mentioned, and something
large hulked under a tarp in the corner, but he saw nothing that
could possibly be used as a weapon.

“Does it really matter?” Malachi asked.
“Come. Sit down at the table. Eat something.”

Jin considered refusing. But what would that
achieve, other than making him look like a petulant child? Even
though he wasn’t remotely hungry, he went and slumped in one of the
chairs, staring blankly at the food.

Dr. Malachi sat down across from him and
folded his hands together on the table. “We need to talk,” he
said.

“I don’t really have anything to say to
you.”

“Then just answer one question.” Malachi
pulled off his goggles and put them on the table. The eyes revealed
were pale blue, and tears gathered in their corners.
“Why
,
Jin? Why did you run away? Why did you turn your back on your
family?”

Jin stared at him.
He really doesn’t know.
He truly doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong
.

“You have to ask?” he managed to choke out.
“After everything you
did
to us?”

Malachi’s brows drew together, but in
puzzlement rather than anger. “What do you mean? I created you; I
raised you as if you were my own flesh and blood. I provided for
your
every
need! What did you ever ask for that I didn’t
give you?”

Jin rose to his feet, his hands shaking. The
tips of his claws slipped out, and it was everything he could do
not to unsheathe them fully and attack. The smiling men shifted,
ready to restrain him if he moved toward Malachi.

“You wanted children,
Father
, but
instead you built yourself a pair of freaks. You gave us everything
we asked for, but you destroyed the lives of everyone around us in
the process. You’ve never given me anything that wasn’t tainted
with the blood of whatever poor soul had it first.”

“You are not a freak!” Malachi said angrily.
“You and your sister are marvels, and I will not hear you speak of
yourself otherwise! I gave you strength, endurance, and agility
beyond what any human can claim. I gave you the skies, Jin!”

“And turned me into a murderer!”

Malachi wiped tears from his eyes. Despite
everything, Jin felt a twinge of guilt. He had made his father
cry.

“I’m sorry you feel this way,” Malachi said,
when he had composed himself a bit. “Perhaps you simply don’t
understand. If so, then the fault is mine, for making too many
assumptions. Yes, I asked you to help with the assassinations. You
and Delilah have unique talents that make you perfect for this
task. And yes, there is some risk to you—to all of us.”

“So why do it?” Jin slumped back in his seat.
“Were you bored? Or did you just want to see how well your pet
monsters would perform?”

“I did it for our family. I did it to help
create a better world—a world where you and Delilah won’t have to
conceal your true nature from the ignorant. A world where we won’t
have to live on an isolated estate, hidden from those who would
condemn what they don’t comprehend.”