The Clockwork Wolf

  A howl of fury made Hawkins glance back. “Miss, what is that?”

  Trying to push Lady Raynard into the coach was proving more of an obstacle, as she had now latched onto both sides of the door frame. I looked over at Hawkins. “It’s a Wolfman.”

  His eyes widened, and he rushed to help me. Together we pried off the now-screeching Lady Raynard’s grip from the frame, and once Hawkins had lifted her off her feet I gave her a quick push that sent her tumbling inside, her face and the swan disappearing behind a billow of skirts.

  “You, too, gel,” the footman said, offering me his gloved hand.

  I shook my head. “Get her out of here.”

  I intended to make a mad dash for the house but never got the chance. As soon as the driver raced away the beast came barreling out of the hedge at me.

  A shot rang out, and the Wolfman fell and skidded across the lawn to stop in a heap of hair and shredded garms almost at my feet. Behind him I saw Lady Bestly standing at an open window, smoke still curling from the rifle she held.

  I glanced down at the beast, who was rapidly transforming back into a man. He twitched several times before he went still, and when I nudged him over with my boot I saw a fist-sized hole in his chest sprouting springs and gears.

  Another vicious growl made me look up to see a second Wolfman hulking toward me.

  “She’ll shoot you, too,” I called to it, and as if it understood me it looked back at Lady Bestly, who had trained her rifle on his chest. “You have been bespelled by magic that will kill you, sir, but I can stop it.”

  The Wolfman began to revert to his mortal state, lowered his head, and whined.

  “Kittredge.” That was Lady Bestly, and she sounded furious. “What are you doing?”

  “Talking to it.” I kept my voice soothing as I edged along the walkway and spoke to the creature again. “There’s still a man inside you, and despite his deplorable taste in clubs I expect he’s a good man at heart. You must resist the urges you feel and let him guide you.”

  Gears ground together, making his limbs jerk, and the Wolfman’s eyes glittered as he lifted his head. He bared his teeth, snapping at the air.

  “Or not,” I said, reaching down with my hands to take hold of my skirts. “Milady, close the window and lock it.”

  “Kittredge, you’ll never make the door.”

  “I know.” I spun on my heel and ran.

  The Wolfman came at me from the side, impossibly fast, and knocked me flat a foot from her ladyship’s front entry. I rolled to the side, banging into the cage of mourning doves, which fell over me and opened, releasing the frantic occupants in a flutter of gray wings. I seized the cage as I scrambled up, holding it before me like a shield. The Wolfman tore it apart with two swipes of his claws before they disappeared.

  I drew the dagger from my sleeve and held it ready. “I don’t think you were a good chap after all,” I told the snarling man. “Come on, then.”

  As he grabbed at me I slashed his arm almost down to the bone, but the wound did nothing to slow him. Blood spattered me as he tossed me out onto the lawn and came after, straddling me as he went down on his knees. I gave up trying to spare him and drove the blade into the center of his chest, but the hard metal beneath the flesh deflected the blow. Fire blazed up my arm as he clamped on to my wrist, shaking it like a dog with a bone until I lost my grip on the dagger.

  A strong arm latched round the Wolfman’s throat, hauling him backward and laying him out on his back. I watched as a native wearing a cape of blue feathers planted his bare foot in the beast’s now-mortal face, pinning his thrashing body down as he drew an ancient pistol and fired point-blank into his heart. He removed his foot and produced a second pistol, firing again into the beast’s head.

  I turned my head to see the remains only inches from my face, and felt bile rise in my throat. When I looked up to see if the native meant to shoot me as well, he had disappeared.

  The nobber came rushing up, bending to check the dead man before reaching to help me up.

  “Check the hedges,” I told him. “There may be more of them.”

  He nodded and trotted off to have a look. I stared up at the night sky until Lady Bestly appeared over me, rifle still in hand. “It’s not safe for you out here, milady.”

  “Nor you, Kittredge.” She got me up and supported me with her arm. “Come inside.”

  She helped me into the house and steered me into the receiving room, where she led me to a crackling hearth. As soon as I saw the fine tapestry covering the chair there I grimaced. “I can’t. I’ve blood and dirt all over me.”

  “I expect that is not a new experience.” Lady Bestly gave me a gentle shove into the chair and covered me with her own silk shawl. “I must go and collect some things from the kitchens. You will not move from this spot.”

  I glanced at the windows. “But milady—”

  “I still have my husband’s rifle, Kittredge,” she informed me in her snootiest tone, “and I quite enjoyed firing it. Do not tempt me to shoot you in the leg.”

  She hurried out and I rested my aching head against the pillowy wing of the chair back. My arm felt like lead, and when I tried to move my hand the resulting pain made me bite back a groan. A second attempt assured me that my wrist was only badly sprained, not broken. I pulled back the shawl to check for bite marks, but all I spied was something gleaming in my flesh.

  I sank my teeth into my bottom lip as I used a corner of the shawl to grasp the slippery shard of metal and tug it free. As fresh blood welled up in its place I held up the sharply pointed brass to examine it. It appeared to be the tip of a broken tooth. The inside hollow still held a bit of jointed mech and a tiny gear.

  Animechs were fashioned to behave like the real animals they imitated: owls hooted, rabbits hopped, butterflies fluttered. I recalled the duchess I’d watched from the tram perambulating with her animech cheetah; along with blinking its topaz eyes it had sauntered, flicked its ears, and switched its tail.

  I closed my fist round the broken claw. Just before the Wolfman had attacked me I’d heard its windings and gears working. We’d assumed the mech being put inside these men was to make them stronger and faster, which it certainly did. But just as animechs were fashioned to behave like their living counterparts, perhaps the Wolfmen had been designed to do more? Could the beast-maker have designed his creatures to do some other evil while on rampage?

  Lady Bestly reappeared with a basin of water, a pile of linen strips, and a jar of salve on a tray, which she set on the table beside me. “What is that in your hand?”

  I opened my fist to show her. “I think it’s a piece of brass tooth. It was lodged in my arm.” I yelped as she plucked it from my palm and tossed it into the fire. “Milady.”

  “This unseemly curiosity of yours will get you killed someday,” she informed me as she drew back the shawl and studied my arm. “That beast looked as if he meant to tear your arm from your shoulder. I hope it is not broken.” She retrieved a pair of scissors from the tray. “I must cut away your sleeve. Who was that native in all the blue feathers?”

  “I don’t know him,” I said. “I think I saw him once, in town. Could he be in service to one of your neighbors?”

  “If he was, he would be dressed very differently,” she said as she began to snip. “It was very good of him to dispatch that other beast.”

  “I thought so, too.” What plagued me was why he had bothered.

  “I saw you also met Lady Raynard.” Her lips thinned as she asked, “What manner of ham-handed scheme did she employ to lure you here?”

  “She penned a note from you begging my immediate presence.” As the sleeve fell away I grimaced at the dark marks mottling my forearm. By morning I’d be a walking bruise, but I no longer saw the wound from the broken tooth. “On your stationery, no less.”

  “Likely she stole it out of my writing desk. Hartley left her alone the last time she called.” She gently blotted away the blood. “You knew the message was
a forgery and still you came. Why?”

  “I thought you might be in danger.” I took in a hissing breath as she applied the salve. “Your reputation is, certainly. She tried to question me as to the reasons behind your lack of mourning.”

  “Infernal woman.” She turned my arm from side to side before taking hold of my hand and carefully prodding my wrist. “I cannot feel any fractures, but you will need to keep it bound and in a sling until the swelling abates.” She saw how I was looking at her. “My father was a country physick before his uncle died without issue and he inherited the title and the estate. Terrance liked to remind me of that whenever we quarreled.”

  I wondered what else he’d thrown in her face. “He must have forgotten that marrying you saved him and his title from ruin. Is Lady Raynard a particular friend of yours?”

  “Not by even the greatest stretch of the imagination,” she said as she began to wrap my wrist. “Caroline and I came out in the same season, and she instantly lost her heart to Raynard. She also behaved quite foolishly attempting to attract his attention. He would have none of her, and instead offered for me.”

  “He fell for you.”

  “Like a headsman’s axe.” Her mouth tightened. “I had no feelings for him, and after a proper interval intended to refuse him. When Caroline learned of his offer it sent her into a panic. She deliberately compromised Raynard, who thankfully for her sake was honorable enough to marry her. It was a most unhappy match, and she has not improved it by clinging to the belief that her husband still pines for me. But I cannot imagine that would compel her to see me ruined, not after all these years.”

  “You’re a widow now,” I reminded her. “Everyone is expecting you to remarry immediately. Ruining your reputation is probably the only way she believes she can prevent you from stealing her husband.”

  “Only Caroline Raynard could be so ridiculous.” She tied off the linen strip round my wrist. “You did not inform her that I am expecting Bestly’s heir, I hope?”

  I smiled. “Milady, I didn’t breathe a word.”

  “Excellent. She will stew in her own bile.” As the front door bell chimed, she rose and went over to the window to look out. “It is the patrolman. The Yard inspector is with him.”

  “How convenient.” I sank down a little in the chair.

  • • •

  “It is not a crime to call on a client,” I informed Inspector Doyle as I was marched into the station house. “Nor is it against the law to be the victim of an unprovoked attack.”

  Doyle said nothing in response to me; he muttered something to his driver, who trotted off in another direction.

  “Two unprovoked attacks, to be precise.” I ignored the other cops staring at me as we passed their desks and tried instead to look righteously piteous. Since my arm hung in a sling, and my rumpled gown was covered with dirt and blood- and grass stains, I thought I must look convincing. “The patrolman must have explained what happened.”

  “Aye, he did.” Doyle stopped in front of a locked door and removed a ring of keys. “He told me how you rode to the Hill on horseback, how you concealed your mount several blocks from your destination, and how you sent him away just before these unprovoked attacks.”

  I smiled with relief. “So you understand it was absolutely none of my doing and you have no reason to arrest me.” I frowned. “So why have you dragged me down here?”

  “You’ve been a very busy gel.” He opened the door, pushed me inside, relocked it, and pointed to one of two chairs flanking a bare desk. “Take a seat.”

  “Inspector, I’m not—”

  “Sit. Down.”

  I sat.

  He did not do the same, but elected to pace round the table, over to the window, back to the table, and then made a complete turn round the room.

  The only way to handle this was with wounded dignity. I even had the wounds. “You cannot detain me because you’re annoyed with me.”

  “Annoyed.” He regarded the cracked base of the lamp hanging over the table. “I have received three complaints tonight. One from your neighbor, Mr. Cartwright, about his horse, Daisy that, according to his wife, you stole.”

  “I told her to say that,” I corrected, “if he found out. She lent the mare to me.”

  He took a folded paper from his pocket and tossed it onto the desk. “Did you tell the mayor of Rumsen to issue an arrest warrant charging you with assaulting his wife?”

  “What?” I shot to my feet. “That’s absolute rubbish. I didn’t assault her, I saved her from the first Wolfman.”

  Doyle regarded me. “So it was the Wolfman who dragged her to her carriage and bodily threw her inside.”

  “Yes. No.” I had to think. “It was her footman. Chap named Hawkins.” I thought again. “I may have assisted him. A very little. One push at the most.”

  “Of course.” Doyle closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “You said there were three complaints,” I reminded him. “So what’s the third bit of nonsense?”

  He opened his eyes. “Lord Lucien Dredmore has accused you of bespelling and abducting his driver.”

  “Did he.” A faint red haze seemed to cloud my vision, but my face had turned burning hot. “I presume he has witnesses?”

  “Several.” He sat down. “They’re coming in to give their statements in the morning.” He tossed the key ring onto the table. “There’s more to it.”

  I bared my teeth. “With Dredmore, there generally is.”

  “His lordship is willing to drop all charges,” Doyle said, “on one condition.”

  I was going to kill Lucien again, and this time I wasn’t going to bring him back. No, this time, I’d dance on his grave. “What does he want?”

  He watched my eyes. “For you to personally apologize to the driver.”

  I nodded and rolled my good hand, encouraging him to tell me the rest of Dredmore’s nonsense.

  He looked away. “You must do this at Morehaven, before tomorrow dawn.”

  I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it; it was that or explode. My face went red, my eyes blurred, my sides ached, and still I couldn’t stop.

  “All right, that’s enough of that.” Doyle crouched down in front of me, taking hold of my shoulders and giving me a firm shake. “I’ll slap you if I must.”

  I clamped my mouth shut and shook a few times before I finally controlled my mirth. “Sorry,” I gasped out, almost strangling on the word.

  “Let me look at this.” He untied the sling Lady Bestly had fashioned for me. As he unfolded he asked, “How did you hurt your arm?”

  “I was bitten by the second one, who had brass fangs. Do you know what that means? The bastard who has been making them, he knew I’d break the transformation spell.” I let out one desperate giggle before dragging in a deep breath. “So this time he pulled out all the poor sod’s teeth and replaced them with mech.”

  Doyle met my watery gaze. “Tell me the bastard’s name, Kit. Tell me and I’ll bring him in, tonight.”

  He’d try to, and Lykaon would have his own chuckle before he ordered his ghastly soldiers to tear Tommy to pieces. “I don’t know.”

  “Damn you, Kit.” He took hold of my face, his fingers tight on my jaw. “You can’t fight this man on your own. Help me put an end to the madness before you do get your throat torn out.”

  Looking into his blue eyes, so clear and true, made my heart shrivel. “I’ve told you everything I know, Inspector.”

  He released me, rose, and walked to the door. I watched his back tense as he turned and strode back to drag me to my feet, and then his mouth was on mine.

  I didn’t resist the kiss; I didn’t want to. Being in Doyle’s arms made me feel safe and protected, two sensations I didn’t often enjoy. Then what he did to my mouth made my whole body wake up and take notice. My childhood friend no more—Tommy was a man of ferocious passions, hidden away beneath the mask of the cop, but now turned loose.

  He ended it with a wrench of hi
s head that made us both gasp. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Terribly unprofessional of you.” I pressed against him, wanting more. “But then I’m wrinkling your jacket.”

  “It’ll press.” He ran one hand over my head, looking all over my face. “I know how it’s been for you. You’ve had to rely on yourself for so long you’ve forgotten how to trust. But you can trust in me, Kit. I won’t abandon you.”

  “I’m not your responsibility, Tommy.” I then demonstrated my unshakable independence by resting my head against his shoulder. In my defense, it was beginning to spin. “Even if I was, you wouldn’t want me. I’m a forfeit, not a prize.”

  “You don’t know what I want.”

  “I know what I need. A new arm.” Mine was beginning to burn as if it were on fire. “Do you have a physick on staff?”

  Someone hammered on the door, making me push away from him, but Doyle held on to me as he turned his head. “Not now.”

  “Get stuffed,” a familiar voice replied as the door slammed open. “Kit? Are you all right?”

  I peeked over his shoulder at Rina and felt my legs wobble. “I don’t know.”

  Darkness filled my eyes so abruptly that I thought I’d fainted again. Only when Doyle muttered something about the lights and moved away from me did I realize they’d all gone out at the same time; the entire station had gone dark.

  Voices went as still as the air, and I smelled the sea, damp and salty, coming into the room. A glimmer of rainbow-shot blue flashed, and a feather brushed my cheek.

  “Who are you?” I asked, turning my head and squinting, but unable to make out more. “What are you doing here?”

  “Kit?” That was Rina, and she sounded furious—and very far away.

  A cape of blue feathers enveloped me, and hard, cold hands wrapped something long and prickly round my wrenched arm. I should have pulled away, but I couldn’t stop looking at the pale eyes in that dark face.

  “The tree-man stole the War Heart from us,” the native murmured as he tightened the thing round my arm. “You return this to the Alone.”