Clockwork Menagerie: A Shadows of Asphodel Novella (15 page)

Parked behind the hotel, they unloaded the technomancy equipment and hauled it upstairs to Himmel’s room. Alone with his work, Konstantin locked the door and hunched over the desk, scribbling equations on hotel stationary.

Temporal magic could kill a man. Go too far in either direction, and you would die of old age, or you would have never been born.

He squinted at a plethora of variables and numbers. Too much of this was theoretical. Blowing out his breath, Konstantin leaned back in the chair and raked his fingers through his hair. Only an experiment would answer his questions.

A key clicked in the lock. Himmel returned with an armful of costumes. “Try these.”

He tossed the clothes on the bed. Konstantin fingered the sky-blue silk of a frockcoat, perhaps fashionable for his great-grandfather, and squinted at the ornate embroidery in silver thread. “I find masquerades absurd.”

Himmel’s eyebrows shot upward. “You do?”

“You don’t?” Konstantin laughed. “But you seem far too…”

“What?”

“Military?”

Himmel snorted. “I consider that a compliment.”

“You do keep your uniform immaculate.” Konstantin unbuttoned his jacket. “God, I hope they don’t see through our disguises.”

“They may already be spying on us.”

Konstantin shrugged on a silver waistcoat before fighting with the endless tiny buttons. “Could you give me a hand?”

Standing behind him, Himmel slid his fingers across his thigh. “Like this?”

“That’s rather distracting.” He sucked in a breath. “We don’t have much time.”

Himmel growled low in his throat. He bent over the buttons, frowning as he worked, his eyelashes shadowing his cheeks. Still distracting, though Konstantin supposed it was better than being terrified.

If they failed tonight, they would never go home.

Waistcoat buttoned, Konstantin unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his trousers. He tugged on a pair of silk breeches, followed by tights that clung to his calves. “Good God, these men loved to dress provocatively.”

Himmel laughed. “I’m not complaining.”

“You aren’t even dressed!”

Smirking, the captain stripped naked before donning his costume. The burgundy velvet suited him, as if he had strolled from the court of one of those ostentatious French monarchs. “How do I look?”

Konstantin handed him a mask and tied the ribbon behind his head. “Perfect.”

“Shouldn’t we powder our hair?”

“For heaven’s sake.” He made a face as he slipped on his mask. “We’re late.”

“Fashionably late.” Himmel struck the dainty pose of a dandy.

Konstantin laughed. “I had no idea you could look so ridiculous.”

“You wound me.”

Jittery with nerves, Konstantin hid his costume beneath a wool overcoat. He unlatched the suitcase holding his technomancer’s gauntlets—engraved steel, nicer than his first pair of bracers, which went down in a zeppelin shipwreck. Sweat from his fingers smudged the metal. He slipped them on, tightening the buckles.

“How will you hide those?” Himmel’s mechanical arm vanished under his gloves.

Konstantin tugged the sleeves of the frockcoat over his gauntlets. “This would be easier if these sleeves had a little more lace.”

“More?” Himmel snorted. “I think that’s quite enough.”

“Could you carry the catalyzer?”

Himmel grunted when he lifted the suitcase. “God damn, what’s in this? Lead?”

“Some of the components, yes, but we can’t leave it behind. The catalyzer lets me control the directionality of the temporal magic.”

“I’m going to nod like I understand.”

“Theodore, it’s not that complicated, just—”

“Konstantin.” He smiled. “Let’s go.”

Countess Zinoviya Victorova surely delighted half the city of St. Petersburg. Even as snowfall whirled in the wind, autos and carriages lined up outside her townhouse. Golden light spilled through windows onto the white.

When Konstantin shivered, Himmel found his hand and squeezed. “Steady.”

If only he could quash the dread squirming in his stomach. They climbed the steps to the townhouse and stepped into the lobby. After the footmen took their winter overcoats, Konstantin glanced at the catalyzer. On the outside it looked like an ordinary suitcase. He relinquished it to the footmen, who stored it in the closet.

“Remember to fetch that for me later,” Konstantin whispered to Himmel.

“Before or after I break into the party with a giant machine?”

“Before, preferably.”

“Relax.” Himmel glanced into his eyes. “No one knows who we are.”

“Yes, sir.” The breath whooshed from Konstantin’s lungs.

They left the cold marble of the foyer and wandered into the ballroom. Mirrors reflected the whirling pageantry of the masquerade. Baroque music, Vivaldi, wafted from a string quartet beneath the chandeliers. A clockwork chicken pecked near the feet of a lady in a golden gown from an Imperial Russia centuries ago. She laughed and covered her mouth with her fan. Two gentlemen dressed like harlequins admired the clockwork bear. The beast shuffled on its hind legs, eyes bright with captive intelligence.

Nausea gripped Konstantin’s stomach. Was the count’s soul aware of its cage?

He needed to examine the bear, without an audience. When the harlequins stepped into the crowd, he moved behind the clockwork beast. Its shaggy pelt, skinned from a real animal, hid any screws or rivets. Extrapolating from his dissection of the clockwork dragon, the bear had a psychothaumaturgy crystal at its heart.

Where had Himmel wandered off to? He needed the catalyzer, then the Eisenkrieger.

Sweating under the silk of his costume, he threaded through the crowd. The countess glittered beneath the chandeliers, her ivory gown dripping pearls, and smiled demurely as an old gentleman wheezed out words. Her little son held her hand, his eyes downcast, and fidgeted until she let him go. A pair of ladies cooed over him, but he dodged their affections, no doubt tired of being an adorable pet at these parties.

The boy ran to the clockwork bear and clapped his hands. The bear’s paws thudded together, its mouth gaping, mute. It couldn’t even roar. Why would the countess give him a voice? Konstantin had to make him speak.

A Napoleonic hussar approached, half of his face masked. “
Dobriy vecher
.”

He knew that voice. Alexsandr Dmitriev.

Fear gripped Konstantin’s gut. He didn’t understand the Russian. Nodding with a rictus grin, Konstantin tried to mingle, but Alexsandr caught him by the arm. “Have we met?” He spoke in German, suspicion clear in his voice.

“
Nyet
.” Konstantin yanked away from his grip.

Alexsandr’s smile curved below his mask. “Yes, I believe we have.”

“Damn.” Konstantin elbowed Alexsandr in the stomach and sidestepped into the crowd. He whirled around, hunting. “Himmel!”

The captain walked over, his stride casual, and leaned by his ear. “Keep your voice down.”

“Alexsandr saw me,” Konstantin whispered. “Get the Eisenkrieger; I’ll get the catalyzer.”

“We have time for this time magic?”

“Now or never.”

“Understood.” Himmel vanished into the crowd.

His heart hammering, Konstantin ran from the ballroom and ducked into the coat closet, ignoring the protests of the footmen. He grabbed the suitcase containing the catalyzer—God, it
was
heavy—and hauled it into the ballroom. When he jostled a lady’s bustle, he apologized on reflex, in German.

Jesus Christ! Could he be any more clumsy?

The clockwork bear dropped to all fours when it saw him. Konstantin knelt, his fingers slippery with sweat, and unlatched the suitcase. Brass and glass gleamed on the catalyzer. He set the dials to the correct settings, matching the frequency with that of his technomancer’s gauntlets, and estimated the radius of effect for the bear.

The little boy watched him with enormous blue eyes. “
Chto Vie delaete
?”

Konstantin shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t speak more than a few words of Russian, and I’m far too busy with this bear.” An insane laugh escaped. “Run along to your mother! She’s not too busy constructing evil at the moment.”

The boy blinked and said nothing, petting the bear’s head.

Where was Himmel? He couldn’t do anything without the Eisenkrieger, and around him, the guests of the masquerade started to circle him. The ladies hid their gossip behind fans, and the men sent him sideways glares as the circle tightened. They knew he was the enemy; they knew he was up to something.

At least he had an audience.

Alexsandr returned with Zinoviya. He dipped into a formal bow, waving at Konstantin and his technomancy. “Countess.”

Konstantin stalled for time. “Good to see you again. You weren’t expecting me?”

The countess laughed. “You have a habit of turning up uninvited.” Her eyes gleamed behind her mask of carved ivory.

“Sorry to interrupt your little masquerade, but I have business to attend to.”

Zinoviya smiled at his technomancy gauntlets. “How delightfully archaic of you. What do you expect to accomplish?”

“Ending you and your experiments.” Konstantin gritted his teeth. “And you?”

She opened her mouth, interrupted by a resonant boom. Doors splintered off their hinges as the Eisenkrieger barreled into the ballroom. Screams echoed under the high ceiling. From the cockpit, Himmel spotted Konstantin.

They had to act fast.

“Ladies and gentleman!” Konstantin raised his arms to the ceiling. “Pardon the interruption, but tonight I have a demonstration for you all.” He knew not everyone understood his words, but he would show them.

The Eisenkrieger marched over, steel feet thudding on the parquet, and dwarfed the clockwork bear. Konstantin grabbed a screwdriver from his pocket and pried open the belly of the machine, accessing the diesel-electric transmission. Coils of copper wire gleamed like the Eisenkrieger’s intestines. The alternator generated enough voltage to stop his heart. Hands shaking, he remembered to breathe. He clipped an insulated wire to the transmission and ran it along to the catalyzer, which hummed to life.

Now he had power, something he could work with.

Konstantin flicked the switch on the catalyzer, directing temporal magic into his gauntlets. A green glow crackled between his hands. He concentrated, squinting at the magic, shaping the energy like a sculptor working with clay.

His earlier calculations estimated the age of the little boy at perhaps five or six. That gave him a ballpark for when the count had to be alive. Beyond the help of mathematics, this was highly technical guesswork.

The clockwork bear sat on its haunches, sniffing the air, as if it smelled the magic.

Konstantin cradled the glowing sphere in his hands, focusing it between his fingers, and carried it over to the bear.

Zinoviya’s shriek nearly shattered glass. “Stop him!”

Alexsandr lunged, his hand on his saber, but Himmel was quicker. He swung the Eisenkrieger’s arm and knocked the man off his feet. Alexsandr tumbled across the marble and skidded into a clockwork chicken.

Konstantin sucked in a breath, his concentration shaken. “Here we go,” he whispered.

He moved his hands apart, expanding the sphere of magic, until it glimmered the size of a globe. The bear bared its teeth, like it longed to maul him, but he guessed the countess would never allow the beast to defend itself.

He was right.

When he touched the bear, it closed its eyes. The magic exploded like a bomb.

Knocked off his feet, Konstantin hit the marble, blinded by the flash of green light. The bones in his hands throbbed, steel gauntlets hissing with steam. Time decelerated around the clockwork bear. The beast reared, clawing the air, before it toppled on its side and remained still. The stink of burnt hair filled his nose.

Konstantin met Himmel’s eyes, seeing his own horror reflected there. What had he done?

Countess Victorova laughed, a titter of triumph, her glove over her mouth. “Such a marvelous demonstration!”

Konstantin thought he might vomit. Unsteady, he found his footing again. The little boy stared down at the clockwork bear, limp and singed, before he burst into tears. Sobbing, he clung to his mother and pointed at the beast.

Green lightning crackled between the bear’s claws.

And a ghost climbed from its corpse.