Clockwork Menagerie: A Shadows of Asphodel Novella (14 page)

Himmel barked out a laugh. “Unbelievable.”

“Let me go.” Konstantin pried his hands from his wrist. “Let me save us all.”

“I’m sorry, but you leave me no choice.” With a grim shake of his head, Himmel took a pair of handcuffs from his jacket.

Betrayal stabbed Konstantin in the stomach. He backed away, trembling with adrenaline, before sprinting from the alley. Every gulp of frigid air burned his lungs. Already exhausted, his muscles ached.

Himmel’s boots rapped the cobblestones. “Stop!”

Not an option. Konstantin pushed harder, gasping, and jostled through a trio of Russians. Stumbling, he caught himself against a brick building, pushed back upright, and kept running. Shadows edged his eyesight.

God, why was he slowing down? His legs wouldn’t obey him.

“Konstantin!”

Himmel’s voice electrified him with a burst of speed. Konstantin dodged around a corner, boots slipping on the ice, and fell on his hip. Bruised, he scrambled to stand, lurching on his feet. The blood drained from his head in a rush. He gripped a lamppost and bent double, trying not to pass out, but the darkness took him anyway.

Konstantin woke in the back of a cab, his head in Himmel’s lap, his legs at an awkward angle. A blush crept over his cheeks. This was rather embarrassing. When he shoved himself upright, he blacked out for a moment.

“Lie down.” Himmel’s tone offered no room for argument. “You collapsed in the street.”

“I remember.” Konstantin leaned against the window, not touching him. “You could have cuffed me.” He raised his hands.

“Damn it.” Himmel glared at him with glittering eyes. “Don’t joke about this.”

Konstantin touched his cheek, which stung from a scrape he didn’t remember getting. “Where are you taking me?”

“The
Nachtigall
, until further orders.”

Konstantin gritted his teeth. “Still following orders from the ambassador?”

Himmel said nothing, simply offered him a thermos. The steel warmed Konstantin’s hands. When he unscrewed the top of the vacuum flask, he smelled coffee. A quick swig scalded his mouth, though he hardly cared.

Himmel cleared his throat. “We need to recover the Eisenkrieger.”

“Weren’t you tracking me?”

“We lost your signal in the forest. Too much interference from all those damn trees. Konstantin, where’s the Eisenkrieger?”

“Hidden.” He stared at Himmel over the thermos. “You expect me to tell you?”

“If that machine falls into enemy hands—”

“It won’t.”

Himmel clenched and unclenched his mechanical hand. “You can’t be certain of that!”

“Stop this cab and let me finish what I started.”

Narrowing his eyes, Himmel leaned forward. “Which is?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“You can, and you will.”

Konstantin shivered despite the heat of the coffee. “Why? They might arrest you, too, unless you rat me out first.”

Himmel’s eyebrows descended. “You don’t trust me.” It wasn’t a question.

Konstantin stared at his distorted reflection in the thermos. “If I don’t tell you, then they can’t fault you for my mistakes.”

“You think this is a mistake? Thank God. I thought you lost your mind.”

When Himmel flashed him a smile, Konstantin relaxed a fraction. “I’m famished.”

“We can eat on the zeppelin.”

The cab halted at the airfield. Himmel opened the door, climbed out, and waited for Konstantin to follow. They hurried through a biting wind, which flung snow sideways into their eyes, and ducked into the airship shed. The
Nachitgall
, sleek and silver, floated below the massive arches. There wasn’t any time to feel homesick over the fine German engineering of the zeppelin; when Konstantin stopped in the airship’s shadow, Himmel nudged him with a hand between his shoulders. “Welcome back.”

Konstantin trudged up the mooring mast, his knees shaking on the stairs, and entered the nose of the zeppelin. Himmel marched him along the corridor. When they entered the dining room, Fang woofed from the rug.

Himmel pointed at the dog. “Quiet.”

Fang whined. Her claws clicked on the floor as she trotted to Konstantin. Her cold nose touched his hand before she licked it.

Konstantin smiled. “You kept Fang.”

“I’m a man of my word.” Himmel clenched his jaw, acting gruff again. He pulled a wicker chair from the table. “Sit.”

Konstantin sank onto the cushion, his body aching. “I’m not a dog.”

“Please.”

“Thank you,” Konstantin said dryly.

“Dog, come here.” Himmel whistled to Fang, who obeyed him, before he glanced at Konstantin. “You, wait there.”

Himmel left with the brisk walk of a Navy man, Fang following at his heel. Biting his lip, Konstantin considered bolting from the airship, but the thought of a proper meal anchored him to the chair. Himmel returned with an armload of food: dark bread, cheese, sausage, and a bottle of hard cider, which he unloaded on the table.

“Thank you.” Konstantin’s smile faltered. “Though this must be a bribe.”

“Yes.” Himmel sat opposite him. “If it means you will stay with me.”

He certainly didn’t mean to sound sentimental, but Konstantin’s throat ached nevertheless. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”

Himmel poured two glasses of cider and slid one across to him. He carved slices of bread, sausage, and cheese before assembling the best sandwich Konstantin had ever seen. The captain caught his eye. “You must be starving.”

Konstantin swallowed hard. “What’s the catch?”

Himmel set the sandwich in the center of the table. “You promise to never go on another insane suicide mission again.”

“I wouldn’t dream of going on…” Konstantin coughed at his glare. “I promise.”

“Eat.”

“Yes, sir.” Konstantin took a bite, then moaned. “Ambrosia is a good sandwich.”

Himmel’s mustache twitched with a smile. He built his own sandwich with precise engineering. “Time for you to confess.”

Konstantin swallowed hard. “I’m taking the Eisenkrieger to the clockwork menagerie.”

“Why?” Himmel set down the knife.

“The Eisenkrieger provides the power required for temporal magic of that magnitude. Enough to reverse the countess’s psychothaumaturgy.”

“I’m not following you.”

Finishing the coffee, Konstantin met his gaze. “The science is all highly hypothetical, which is why I’m eager to experiment. If one inverts the typical application of temporal magic, one should produce an echo of the past.”

Himmel frowned at his sandwich. “Still not following you.”

“I want to bring back the ghost of the count.”

“You believe in ghosts?”

“There’s a scientific basis behind all supernatural phenomena.” Konstantin lifted a finger. “Without it, technomancy would be pointless.”

Himmel squinted. “What’s the objective of your mission?”

“If I succeed, the world will see the truth about Countess Zinoviya Victorova. She murdered her husband—”

“You don’t know that.”

“—and she continues to enslave souls for her clockwork engines of war.”

“True.”

“She won’t be a heroine to the Russians after they see my little demonstration.”

“The time magic makes no sense, but I’m dead certain of one thing.” Himmel looked in his eyes. “I won’t let you do this alone.”

Konstantin choked on his sandwich before swigging cider. “Pardon?”

“That’s the most sensible plan I’ve heard all day.”

“My plan? Sensible?” Konstantin was tempted to pinch himself. “Are you joking?”

Himmel poked his untouched sandwich. “Not in the slightest. You’re the best technomancer around. I trust you.”

“This makes no sense.”

“You may be absolutely horrible at subterfuge, diplomacy, and basic survival skills, but you understand the science of magic.”

Konstantin scoffed. “I’m not terrible at surviving. Look how long I’m alive.”

“With my help.” Himmel laughed. “And there’s more where that came from.”

hile Konstantin navigated, Himmel drove a truck
through the slanting afternoon light. They found the Eisenkrieger hidden in the forest, the fuel gauge almost empty. Himmel rolled up his sleeves and hefted a diesel can, his arms flexing, before pouring fuel into the thirsty machine. Konstantin inhaled the familiar acrid aroma.

“Say when,” Himmel said.

“Fill her up.” Konstantin blinked, distracted by the captain’s muscles. “That should do it.”

He climbed into the cockpit, twisted the key in the ignition, and felt the engine tremble through his body. Himmel balanced on the running board of the truck, watching, while Konstantin piloted the Eisenkrieger into the back and brought it to its knees. Hopping from the cockpit, he braced himself on Himmel’s shoulder.

“Help me with the tarp?” Konstantin said.

Himmel arched an eyebrow. “That’s why I’m here.”

They covered the bulk of the machine and tied down the canvas. Breathing hard, they both climbed back into the truck.

“Drive to Countess Victorova’s townhouse,” Konstantin said.

Himmel frowned through the windshield. “And?”

“It should have a servant’s entrance in back. On my signal, you march the Eisenkrieger into the ballroom. I’m certain it will take less than five minutes to hook up the Eisenkrieger to my temporal magic equipment.”

“You do realize the countess is throwing a masquerade?”

“Tonight?” Konstantin grimaced. “The Eisenkrieger wouldn’t count as a costume?”

“No.” Himmel let out a dark laugh. “But this means we can infiltrate the ballroom, if we buy ourselves masks and all that nonsense.”

“I’m not too horrible at subterfuge?”

“Let me do the talking.”

He slouched. “Yes, sir.”

“And the shopping.” Himmel’s fingers tightened on the wheel. “You should stay hidden.”

Konstantin stroked his beard. “I need to tinker with the temporal magic. Might I use your hotel room as a makeshift laboratory?”

Himmel arched an eyebrow. “Try not to burn down the building.”

“I won’t.”

“Or electrocute yourself.”

“That’s only happened once!” Konstantin blushed. “Technically, it wasn’t electrocution, since that implies a fatality.”

Himmel laughed as he turned the corner. “If this doesn’t work, we’re both dead.”

“How optimistic of you.”