Into the Ether (4 page)

“Thank you,” I murmured and moved into the room.

Colonel Worthington
waved off my gratitude
and backed out of the room.
“Sleep well.
I'll wake you in the morning for breakfast and then we'll discuss what you will be doing.”

I turned away from the door.
Gathering the blankets from the bed, I dropped them into a corner
.
I didn't need quite so many.
Moving
to make the gas lamp a bit brighter
, I neared the door.
T
he sound of iron scraping iron and tumblers moving sent my pulse skyrocketing.

I rushed to the door, but the knob did not yield to my slow, careful test.
I listened to
Colonel Worthington
's uneven gait as he retreated to his room down the hallway and fumed.
Lock me in?
I
don't
think so.
I may not be
good
at picking pockets, but I was good with locks.

I knelt on the floor and drew a tiny metal tool from a pocket sewn into my petticoats.
It had been with me as long as I could remember.

I slid it into the lock and then peered past it.
My hands dropped the instrument and it clattered on the floor.

Through the dark passage of the
keyhole
, Thomason's bright eye stared into mine.

 

Nightmares plagued me.
Large eyes stared at me from every nook and cranny.
Every glint in the darkness was
Colonel Worthington
's automaton coming to choke the life out of me.
But at the same time, my fascination grew.
Thomason both repelled and intrigued me.
I had the strange urge to reach out and touch a finger to his sculpted flesh and see what things he could tell me.

What would he say?
I wondered.
I
ntelligence
glowed
in those yellowish eyes.
I would have bet money on
it
.

I shook my head and sat up in bed, watching the shadows play in the pieces of broken wood across the room.
I would never touch that machine. First of all, he was a walking boiler; he'd probably burn the fl
esh from my hands.
And second
…A
shiver traveled through my body.
I didn't wa
nt to know what secrets he held
.
Something
told me I wouldn't like what I found.

Without windows or a timepiece, I had no idea what time of day it was,
but I refused to lay there
with
my thoughts any longer.
I slipped
my feet into my boots to avoid the cold stone floors and then yanked my dress back over the chemise I'd slept in.
If I stayed longer, I'd have to ask Terry to bring me some clothes.

I grasped my lock pick in sweaty palms and stood to the side of the door, dreading the thought of looking through the lock and seeing those eyes again.

Get a grip.
You can do this.

Sucking in a mouthful of air, I bent down
and
looked through the lock.
Only dimly lit stone met
me
.
I slid the pick in and made quick work of the lock.

When I stepped into the hall, I was surprised to see light streaming through an open door down the hallway and unlit gas lamps lining the passage.
Why aren't those lit?

The door to
Colonel Worthington
's apartment was open, and he sat in the same wing chair, a cup of tea in one hand,
and a
newspaper in the other.
I strode into the room and he looked up.
Surprise made his mouth drop.

“Good morning,” he stammered before rising.
The tea tray held only one cup.

I waved a hand.
“I can get my own cup.”

The extra
rested
, clean, on the sideboard.
Grabbing
it
, I
poured myself tea before sitting.

“I must admit, you've thrown me off balance, my girl.
I didn't believe you
'
d be here this morning.”

“It isn't as if I was going to leave with Thomason outside my door all night.
Besides,
with no gas lamps lit
,
that hallway is pitch dark.”
At least, I assumed he'd been there all night.
As much as he'd plagued my dreams he might as well have been.

The curator's brow furrowed, and the bushy brows almost obscured his eyes.
“The gas lines to the hall are being fixed tomorrow.
What do you mean, Thomason was there?
He left after you went to your room to check on the museum.
He shouldn't be back again for another hour.”

He wasn't lying.
Genuine confusion
danced
across
face.
I shrugged.
“Must have been a dream.
Why did you think I wouldn't be here?”

“The other thieves I've offered work to picked the lock at night and left.
Much less
disturbance
for me.
I scare them a little, and then they get to go home.
I don't have to involve anyone else.
But you…”

I continued to sip my tea.
“You gave me a job.
I assume you want to know more about your things than how much their worth.
It would be a refreshing change
from
thieving
.”

He considered that for a moment, and I could tell I'd made some kind of progress.
How much would depend on him.

“Well.
That's a new response.
You're right.
I do want you to look at a few items.
I
want to
find out
more than their worth.”
He fell silent for a moment.

“What is it?
The objects I mean.”

He sighed.
“Sadly, I don't have them yet.”

His eyes dipped away from mine.
Not much, but enough to show me his lie.
Not quite so trusting as I'd hoped.

“Until they get here, you'll have to help me with my usual tasks, and they are not so glamorous.
First though, I'll
introduce you to
Walter, or he'll have you arrested before nightfall.”

Hell's bells.
I almost groaned.
This would not go well.
Walter may not have caught me doing anything, but he knew who I was.
He would remember me.

“If you
like,” I mumbled.
My smile was weak, and we both knew I wouldn't get through this unscathed.
I grabbed a couple of scones from the tray and slathered strawberry jam on them.

“When you're finished, we
'
ll go and speak with him.
He also has apartments at the museum, but he prefers to be near the armor.

He made a small sound that could have been a smothered chuckle, but I couldn't be sure.

****

“What?”

Walter reminded me of the beached whale that had appeared in the Thames
once
when I was younger.
It had bloated in the summer sun and looked remarkably similar to his shape as he reclined in a large chair, feet crossed in front of himself.
We'd
caught him dozing next to a steaming kettle.

He wasn't dozing now.

We'd walked in and the curator had unceremoniously announced that I would be joining their crew as a member of the museum staff.
I tried to ignore the kernel of warmth that had lit somewhere in the vicinity of my heart.
I'd liked those words a bit too much.

“
Colonel Worthington
, you must be mad.
Do you know who she is?
What she is?”

Colonel Worthington
looked me over.
“A girl, around 15 or 16, former thief, possibly a
touch
-
know
?
Have I covered everything?”

Walter sputtered and tried to sit up a little higher.
It ju
st looked uncomfortable, and I was
almost certain the buttons on his waistcoat would snap under the pressure.

“She's not to be trusted!
How do you know she's a former thief?
She could easily turn on you at any moment.”

Colonel Worthington
sighed
and sat
down
.
I pulled out a wooden chair at the small table and sat as well.

A thief I might have been, but I was not untrustworthy.
I crossed my arms.
“Are you still mad about the whole
Aphrodite
incident?
That was
such
a long time ago, I'm certain I've forgotten all about it.
Haven't you?”

“
Aphrodite
incident?”
The curator looked between us.
I fancied I saw humor dancing in his dark eyes, but it was gone before I could be certain.

Walter's mouth opened and closed for a moment, and then he huffed.
“Trust a
chit
like you to bring that back up.”

“Walter!
Watch your language,”
Colonel Worthington
said.

The guard sank back into his chair again.
He reminded me of Elliot when he was being petulant.
“Terribly sorry.”

He didn't mean it.
I didn't expect him to.

We sat for a few seconds in silence until Walter exhaled loudly and shifted upright again.
“I suppose she'll do.”
He waved a finger at me.
“But I'll be watching you like a bloody hawk, gel.
You so much as fart crossways and I'll know.”

“Thank you, Walter.
I think that's enough.”
Dry humor made
Colonel Worthington
's words less of a censure.

I bit my lip.
Laughter threatened to break free as
Colonel Worthington
nudged me out the door and through the service entrance into the military arms and armor of the museum.
In a companionable silence, we headed back towards the Reading Room.

“He did look rather daft making advances on poor
Aphrodite
, didn't he?”

Laughter spilled out from both of us.
For the first time I could ever remember, I felt a connection and camaraderie with an adult.
As our laughter faded into echoes,
a
crack opened in my plans.
This would be harder than I thought.

 

“What on earth are you doing?”

“Terry!”
I turned
from my position
behind the visitor's desk, a wide smile plastered across my face.

He leaned against the edge of the desk, watching the small groups of people who wandered through the museum.
“Justin sends you to find a box and now you're working at the information desk?
I'm confused.”

“Hush!”
I said, checking to make sure no one had heard him.

I checked the timepiece behind the desk and then turned to the other woman, Adelle, who had been showing me the ropes.
Excusing
myself,
I
slipped from behind the desk, taking Terry into the nearest gallery.

“What are you thinking?
Anyone could have heard you.”

He stared at me like I had three heads.
“What are you more afraid of
,
losing your job or getting found out?”

Stunned, I stood there for a moment.
Terry had always been the devil-may-care type.
The change in attitude threw me.
“What
'
s the matter with you, Terry?”

He shook his head and looked away.
“I'm sorry, Gennie.
I don't mean to bite.
Something's bothering me.
I didn't mean to take it out on you.”

On impulse, I threw my arms around him and squeezed.
He stiffened and then relaxed, returning the embrace.
“
Tell me what's wrong.”

His arms tightened and his words brushed across my ear.
“I can't.
It's nothing you can help with.”

“Try me.”

I could feel the muscles under my hand tense.
He thought about it.
“No, Gennie.
You've got enough going on.”

My heart sank a little.
“
Whatever it is, it'll work out.”

He released me, his lips pulling up into a half smile.
“Let's hope so.”
He took a deep breath.
“Now.
I'm supposed to take back some kind of report to Justin.
What do you want me to tell him?”

He was done discussing whatever had him upset.
I wished he would let me do more, but he'd always been this way.
Whenever there had been a problem, he'd taken care of it alone.
Even when I'd been the cause.

“Terry, if there's anything
…”
I reached out and laid a hand on his arm.
He captured it between his hands and stared at our combined fingers.

“No
.”

What he wasn't saying made my heart beat faster.
H
e patted my hand and raised his head, a familiar stubborn tilt to his chin.
I sighed.
I'd never get anything out of him now.
Not until he wanted to tell me.

“Report?”

“Tell Justin I'm doing my best, but that the curator has the items and is testing me.
He's not going to give anything away until he's ready.
And there's this machine
—”

Walter's rotund form turned the corner in the back.
I tugged Terry back out into the foyer.

“Machine?
What's going on, you look like you're frightened of it.”
Terry dug his heels in and wouldn't budge on the marble floor.

“Terry, you have to get going.
Walter will recognize you and have you arrested.”

He followed me to the entrance.
“Answer me, Gennie.”

I pushed at him, noting that Walter was following our tracks like a bloodhound.
“I'll talk to you later.
I'm not scared of it, now
go!
”

I met Walter at the entrance to the foyer.

“You wouldn't have been talking to an associate, now would you?”

I smiled brightly.
“No.
Just checking to see the weather.”

I wanted to kick myself.

Walter smirked
.
“You can't do better than that?”

“I'm not flirting with statues, am I?”

He growled and pushed past me.
It took an act of willpower I'd never before used not to turn around and watch him as he scanned the people outside for anyone suspicious.
I hoped Terry had made it to the street.

A few moments later, Walter stopped at the visitor desk and shook a fist at me.
“I'll get you yet, girl.
I can
be a very patient man
.”

As he wandered off, my gaze drifted to the entrance and in the shadows of the passage there, I spied a glowing set of yellow eyes.
Thomason had been watching my interchange with Terry and Walter.

For the first time, I wondered what Thomason's inventor,
Ephraim Gregory
, intended when he built the automaton.
Gregory
was well known for his work with the Ministry of Defense, and Lord Rozakis, the Queen's Spymaster.
I had to wonder about the ulterior motives of such an inventor, and the reasons behind providing the British Museum with a prototype of something so unusual.
Had the automaton been a failed experiment?
What things had Thomason really been built for?
More important, what was he capable of?