“The Pisces!” Charlotte spun around and jumped up and down, unable to contain her excitement.
The massive fish glittered and gleamed under the afternoon sun, and Charlotte judged the submersible lovelier than any gilded sight of the Floating City. The ship glided toward the Aphrodite, slowing until it was floating alongside the sternwheeler.
When a pair of green pigtails peeked out of the hatch, Charlotte cried out in delight. “Pip! Pip, here!” She waved wildly, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt, but she couldn’t stop.
“Prepare to be boarded!” Pip shouted back with a salute. She scrambled out of the Pisces’s hatch and shimmied her way down its metal scales.
One of Ott’s sailors tossed her a line, and Pip tied the Pisces onto the merchant vessel. In the distance, thunder rumbled. Charlotte didn’t take her eyes off Pip and the shimmering submersible, but in the back of her mind, she thought the sound odd. It was a clear day with no sign of rain that she’d noticed.
“What’s that?” Linnet put her hand up to shade her eyes from the bright sun. “A fire?”
Charlotte followed Linnet’s line of sight to the northwest, where she saw oily plumes of smoke billowing into the cloudless sky. She gazed at the thick smoke erupting from a concentrated site like ash spewn from a volcano. How far off was that spot?
A flurry of approximated calculations of time and distance and space swept through Charlotte’s mind. She swayed on her feet, feeling as though a fist had been thrust beneath her ribs to squeeze the life from her heart.
No. No. No.
Falling forward, Charlotte caught the edge of the deck rail and vomited over the side.
No. No. No.
“Charlotte!” Linnet rushed to Charlotte’s side, rubbing her back until the wave of sickness passed. “Are you ill? Surely you’re not seasick—there’s barely a ripple on this river.”
Shaking and scarely able to force words from her throat, Charlotte said, “You don’t understand. The fire . . .”
Linnet’s eyes narrowed, then went wide. “Hephaestus’s hammer. You think that’s the Catacombs.”
Feeling another wave of nausea rising, Charlotte could only nod. The smoke was too black, too greasy to be natural. As if to confirm Charlotte’s thought, an explosion boomed through the air, its force rattling the ship. Grave came running up from the stern.
“What is that?” He looked as fearful as the first time Charlotte had seen him running from the Rotpots.
Then Charlotte heard Pip shrieking.
“Get her onboard!” Linnet’s voice cracked like a whip, and sailors scrambled to follow the order.
Not a minute later, Pip appeared kicking and screaming as four sailors struggled to drag her aboard the Aphrodite.
“Athene, no!” Pip screeched. “We have to go back. Let me go! We have to go back!”
A sailor swore and dropped one of Pip’s legs when she turned her head and gave his arm a vicious bite. The sailor pivoted. His fist shot out toward Pip’s jaw, but Grave caught the man’s wrist mid-strike.
“Don’t,” Grave said, closing his fingers tighter. The sailor’s eyes went very wide, and his forearm began to shake. Images of the Enforcers’ steel fists smashing faces and crushing limbs flashed through Charlotte’s mind.
He’s the perfect weapon, Coe had said.
Charlotte knew she couldn’t let Grave become that. Once he crossed that line, if he killed easily and without remorse while others witnessed it, he would be deemed a monstrosity. If that happened, Charlotte doubted she’d be able to shield him from the designs of friend or enemy. Grave would cease to be a person; he’d simply become a priceless implement of war for one side or the other.
“Grave, let him go, and, Pip, stop struggling!” Charlotte was on her feet. “These men aren’t your enemies.”
You’re the only one with enough courage and bullheadedness to do it.
Grave immediately released the sailor, who swore, shaking his bruised fist.
Pip continued to struggle until Charlotte yelled, “Pip, that’s enough!”
The green-haired girl went still and then began to sob.
“Let her go,” Linnet told the men.
The bitten man stomped away cursing, while the others set Pip down on the deck. Charlotte went to the crying girl.
I have to be strong. I can’t falter. They are my responsibility now.
She forced herself to ignore the tiny voice that whispered, Whoever’s left, that is.
“Go to the submersible and get Scoff,” Charlotte told Grave. “Bring him up here.”
Grave nodded and hurried to the edge of the deck.
“There’s so much smoke.” Pip sniffled. She blinked at Charlotte through her tears. “Birch’s explosions never make that much smoke. Never.”
“I know,” Charlotte said. “But we can’t be sure what’s happened.”
“So much smoke.” Pip’s voice trailed away. She drew her knees up to her chest and curled up into a ball.
Linnet’s mouth set in a thin line as another boom shook the boards beneath their feet.
Grave reappeared on the deck leading Scoff, who moved along in a stupor.
“I’m pretty sure that was my laboratory,” Scoff muttered to himself. He glanced over his shoulder at the smoke. “If the smoke starts to change colors, I’ll be sure.”
“Hello, Scoff,” Charlotte said, trying to keep her tone light. “It’s good to see you.”
Scoff nodded, and dropped into a cross-legged position next to Pip, who didn’t uncurl from her ball but inched over until she could lean against him. Grave stood over the boy and girl with their odd-colored hair, watching them like a sentinel.
“What happened to the Catacombs?” Scoff asked Charlotte.
“We don’t know,” she answered, watching the black smoke fill with ribbons of green and violet. She decided not to tell Scoff. “Not yet.”
Linnet scrutinized the new arrivals. “Did you notice anything unusual near the Catacombs today? Anything odd at all?”
“No,” Scoff answered. “Everything was exactly like it always is when we left. I mean, except that Ash, Meg, Jack, and Charlotte were gone. But that’s been odd for a while.”
“You didn’t see anything?” Linnet pressed. “Like a strange bird that stays at its perch too long or a stiff-moving rabbit?”
Pip lifted her head long enough to give Linnet a scornful look. “We know about crowscopes and rabbit moles. We’re not idiots.”
Linnet let that pass.
“Was Birch going to try anything particularly dangerous in his workshop?” Charlotte asked. It wasn’t hard to imagine that without Ash around to curb the tinker’s enthusiasm for experiments, he might have taken on some inadvisable project.
But Scoff frowned. “Not that I know of. I thought he was just building more mice. Those can blow up, of course, but not like . . .” He craned his neck to gaze at the smoke. “Not like that.”
“Do you want me to tell the captain to turn us around?” Linnet asked Charlotte. “We can take your submersible to Lord Ott’s dockyard. There’s an underwater entrance you could use to access the port without being seen.”
“No.” Charlotte already knew where she had to go. “We have procedures in place. A location we’re to meet at.”
“We have to go back!” Pip glared at Charlotte.
“We can’t, Pip,” Charlotte told her firmly. “Not until we know what really happened. The others will go to the rendezvous point. We’ll meet them there.”
If anyone survived, the tiny voice whispered, and Charlotte briefly closed her eyes against a sharp sting of pain.
“I should report this to Ott,” Linnet said. “He’ll probably want to pass it along to Jack and your brother.”
“Ask him to wait until he hears from me,” Charlotte told her. “Ash and Jack wouldn??
?t have stayed away from the Catacombs unless this task they’re undertaking is truly vital. I don’t want them to come running back here until I’m certain they should.”
“Are you sure?”
Charlotte clenched her teeth, but nodded. This was what Ash would do.
Reaching into her pocket, Linnet withdrew a wooden egg and handed it to Charlotte.
“Is this what I think it is?” Charlotte asked, flipping open the clasp to reveal the hollow case.
“I don’t know.” Linnet half smiled. “Do you think it’s a homingbird?”
Ignoring Linnet’s grin, Charlotte peered at the tiny metal bird inside the egg.
“It’s already set to the latitude and longitude where Ott receives his envoys,” Linnet told her. “When you’re ready to send us news of what happened, use that bird.” She eyed Charlotte pointedly. “And if that little flyer doesn’t show up by tomorrow night, we’re coming out to look for you.”
“Deal.” Charlotte held out her hand. She was somewhat surprised when Linnet suddenly embraced her.
“Keep those claws sharp, kitten. I hope we’ll meet again soon.”
Hugging the girl tightly, Charlotte felt her throat closing and her eyes pricking with heat. “I hope so too.”
Turning away from Linnet, Charlotte took Pip’s hands and helped the girl to her feet.
“Come on,” she said to Pip and Scoff. “We need to get to the rendezvous point.”
Pip looked at Grave, her gaze speculative. “You were very brave to stop that man from hitting me. I know I shouldn’t have bit him, but I still don’t think I would have liked to be hit.”
“I’m not brave,” Grave told her. He glanced at his hand, flexing his fingers. “I just know that I’m strong.”
Taking Grave’s hand, Pip said, “I think you can be both.”
With her other hand, Pip grabbed Scoff’s arm, and the trio set off toward the Pisces together.
“Interesting little troupe you’ve got here,” Linnet said to Charlotte.
Charlotte smiled at the other girl, who gave a brief nod.
“Safe journey.”
“And you.”
Charlotte went to the fore of the ship, climbing the rope ladder down the front of the Aphrodite and onto the slippery surface of the Pisces. When she scrambled into the submersible, she closed and locked the hatch behind her.
Pip was waiting for Charlotte in the corridor that linked the cargo bay and the bridge. Charlotte laughed when Pip handed over the POC.
“Thought you probably missed her,” Pip said wistfully. “Though I was hoping this would be the kind of trip where we wouldn’t need guns.”
Nodding regretfully, Charlotte said, “So was I.”
“I’m going to ride in the cargo bay with Grave,” Pip told her. “You should copilot for Scoff.”
Pip spun and went running off toward the rear of the Pisces. Moving in the opposite direction, Charlotte ducked through the doorway that opened into the bridge. Scoff was already strapped into his chair.
“I see Pip made sure you and Pocky were reunited,” he said.
“She did.” Charlotte took the chair beside Scoff. She buckled her harness and held Pocky on her lap. The weight of the gun was reassuring.
“We won’t reach the rendezvous point until after dark,” Scoff told Charlotte, flipping controls. The Pisces began to sink into the river.
“I know,” Charlotte said. “It can’t be helped.”
Scoff steered the ship upstream. Beyond the glass, the Hudson’s waters were dim and murky.
He fell silent for a few minutes, then asked, “Do you think anyone else will be there?”
Charlotte hesitated, and Scoff quickly said, “Never mind. That’s not a question to be asked.”
When they were fully submerged, he reached forward and pulled a brass lever. The Pisces shot forward. Scoff leaned forward, fully absorbed in piloting the ship. As they sped along, Charlotte’s temple began to throb with anxiety and exhaustion. She leaned her head back and let her eyes close.
In the darkness behind her heavy eyelids, she heard Meg’s voice. Storm clouds build on the horizon. Before long, they’ll be upon us.
The darkness of her vision gave way to a blue sky where greasy smoke boiled above the treetops. They’re already here.
Charlotte slipped her hand into her pocket, fingers tracing the outline of Jack’s letter. The storm had come, but Charlotte wouldn’t cower at its force. She would keep fighting. For Ash and Meg, for Grave, for the Resistance. Charlotte silently swore a pledge to all of them, and most of all to herself—she’d keep fighting.
Author’s Note
IN THE MIDDLE OF AN eye exam, when my optometrist was peering at me from behind a mask of glass, gears, levers, and dials, I realized I wanted to write a steampunk series. While visits to the doctor and dentist seem to reflect advances in medical technology, the tools of an optometrist remain decidedly nineteenth century–esque. The idea of inventing a world filled with fantastic and frightening devices, machines, and weapons proved irresistible.
The allure of steampunk lay not only in its abundance of mad scientists and quirky gadgets, but also in the opportunity to create an alternate historical narrative. While most steampunk novels are set in the late nineteenth to early twentieth centuries and, more often than not, in Europe, the history I wanted to reinvent was much earlier, exploring a period of American history very near and dear to my heart. Prior to becoming a full-time novelist, I was a history professor at Macalester College in St. Paul, Minnesota. My research specialization focused on the intersection of religion, gender, and violence in the British colonies, and I’ve long held an interest in the transition from colonial rule to republic in early America.
The Inventor’s Secret posits the question: What would North American society have looked like if the American Revolution failed? As a nation and society, the United States locates the beginnings of our highest values—freedom, equality, the pursuit of happiness—as a result of a successful eighteenth-century revolution. What, then, would be the fate of those values and that society if the Revolutionary War had been won by the British?
The central characters of The Inventor’s Secret, a band of teenagers who are the children of men and women still resisting British rule, are struggling to survive in this alternate reality: Having failed to secure the aid of France in the war, George Washington and the Continental Army are unable to defeat British forces. The revolution is quelled, its ringleaders hanged as traitors, and the United States never born.
The year is 1816, just after the Napoleonic Wars conclude in Europe, and the British Empire is on the verge of achieving dominance in the Western Hemisphere. As the novel’s protagonists uncover nefarious secrets and confront the violent tyranny of the Empire, they come to grips with the very questions that remain at the heart of American identity. What is the value of liberty? At what cost must it be won?
Acknowledgments
THE INVENTOR’S SECRET has a special place in my heart because it brings together two of my passions: history and fantasy. My amazing agenting trio at InkWell Management, Richard Pine, Charlie Olsen, and Lyndsey Blessing, are always my first and best advocates as I begin to nurture a new creative project. I’m indebted to Penguin Young Readers for traveling into an alternate past and a new world so this book could come to life. Thank you to Don Weisberg and Jen Loja for letting me forge a new path. The enthusiasm of the sales, marketing, publicity, and school and library teams fuel my writing more than the strongest cups of coffee ever could. Thanks especially to Shanta, Emily R., Erin, Elyse, Laura, Lisa, Elizabeth, Marisa, Jessica, Kristina, Molly, Courtney, Anna, Scottie, and Felicia.
Thank you to Michael Green for that first conversation about steampunk and the amazing history of New York. Jill Santopolo, my amazing editor, helps me strike the right balance between action and romance and
never lets me neglect the swoony boys—which I love. Thanks to Kiffin and Brian for all their work.
I soldier on with the support of wonderful, creative friends: David Levithan, Eliot Schrefer, and Sandy London help me laugh and sing. Beth Revis, Marie Lu, and Jessica Spotswood are my sisters forever. Elizabeth Eulberg, Michelle Hodkin, and Casey Jarrin inspire me with their talent, spirit, and love. Thanks to Conor Anderson, Rachel Noggle, and Eric Otremba for keeping me excited about this project.
I am ever grateful for my exceptional family. Thanks to my mom and dad for all their love. Thank you to Garth and Sharon for being such amazing people and for making me the happiest Auntie Annie.
Andrea Cremer, The Inventor's Secret
(Series: # )
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends