“Any sign of demons?” a voice called from behind me.
I turned to find Edwin.
My stomach tightened. “No, thank god.”
He had to bring up our first date.
“Anything?” Edwin asked, looking around the room.
“I’m not sure, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have someone stationed here. Just in case.” I looked back at Edwin.
He was staring at me. “All right.”
I swallowed hard. “Edwin…how have you been?”
He exhaled softly. “Well. I mean, I’m well. And you? How are you?”
“I’m all right. Edwin…I just…I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“I know, but I hate that it’s like this between us now.”
Edwin smiled softly, but I saw the strain on his face. “Yes. Me too. I don’t…I’m not angry or sad. At least, not anymore. I have…perspective. I only want what’s best for you. Even if that isn’t me. I only want what’s best for both of us, actually. Maybe…maybe we should talk sometime.”
I nodded. “All right. Sure. Edwin—”
“I’ll go ensure we have some extra guards in here. Let us know if you see anything,” he said then turned to go.
I stepped toward him but stopped. No. I shouldn’t say more. I had let him go. He had hurt me at the All Hallows Ball, allowing his godmother to treat me like I was rubbish, but that wasn’t why I had ended it. I had let him go. I had let him go…for Lionheart. Now, I needed to give Edwin space. I owed him that.
I listened to his footsteps as he walked away.
Closing my eyes, I tried to master the emotions that tugged at me. This was not the time to get sentimental. I had a job to do. Trying to refocus, I scanned the room once more. Whatever I had felt there, I didn’t sense it now. Maybe it had been Edwin. Perhaps he had triggered my senses. That seemed logical. Now the only thing I was sensing was the clockwork gnomes. Not helpful. I gave the room one last look. Why in the world did automatons unnerve me so? Strange. They were just metal, right?
Turning, I left the hall.
When I passed by the gnomes, I eyed the little elder of the group once more. This time, he was holding out a needle. There was nothing menacing about his posture. It was more like he was trying to be helpful.
I tapped on the glass. “Sorry, chap. But if something is on its way, I’m afraid that won’t be much help. Thanks for the offer, though. And by the by, you and your little troupe, whatever you are, need to stay out of mischief. Got it?” I said then turned and walked away.
Great, now I was talking to garden gnomes.
Chapter 3: Her Royal BaitNess
The wind whipped down the London street as the massive crowd assembled for the opening. On stage were a number of members of the London Tinker’s Society, Harper, Edwin, and a handsome, middle-aged gentleman with curly brown hair and startling green eyes who identified himself as Archibald Boatswain IV, and me. We all waited patiently, eyes on the sky, for Her Majesty.
I inhaled slowly and let my gaze dance across the group assembled there. I hated having all these eyes on me. It worked my nerves. But there was this strange buzzing in my ears. It wasn’t really a sound; just a feeling. My senses were on edge. There was no reason to think anything was going to happen. All of this was just precaution, right? Edwin was just making sure that Victoria was safe.
I looked back at the people assembled on the platform. This time, I noticed that a vast majority of the men and women seated there, members of the London Tinker’s Society, were also wearing nondescript lapel pens with the initials R.M. encapsulated in a circle.
The Rude Mechanicals were here.
Why?
My gaze slid across the esteemed but secret group. They looked…nervous.
Surely, they wouldn’t hold such a public event if they were expecting something.
Unless.
Unless, quite the opposite. Would they hold such an event because they were expecting something to happen?
Hell’s bells.
Was Victoria acting as bait?
Bait for what?
I glanced at Edwin.
Apparently, my expression said everything.
He nodded.
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
They were trying to smoke out someone or something. Whose stupid idea was this? And why hadn’t anyone told me? No wonder they wanted me on the podium. I was the only goddamned early warning system they had.
I turned to the museum. The clock overhead ticked loudly. I could hear it over the murmuring of the crowd. I closed my eyes and tried to feel. Something. Anything.
The wind blew my hood back, pulling my long, black hair out of the back of my cape. The palms of my hands tingled.
Clemeny…Clemeny Louvel.
I looked back at Edwin and nodded.
He tensed his jaw. The story behind the opening, the extra security, all of it, was slowly beginning to reveal itself. This was all a smokescreen for something larger taking place. But what?
I stared at Harper with such intensity that she turned and looked. Her brow was furrowed, her face all scrunched up, as if she, too, were beginning to put some pieces together. I watched her face clear as the puzzle came together for her as well. She blinked.
“Shite,” she said in a whisper.
Okay, at least this wasn’t Harper’s idea.
“There she is. Look, there is her balloon,” someone in the audience yelled.
The crowd murmured excitedly.
The illustrious members of the society waiting on the podium stood and turned, eyes lifted to the heavens, as we watched Her Majesty’s airship slowly lower toward the museum.
Clemeny…Clemeny Louvel.
He’s coming.
Chapter 4: uNMasked Bandits
The bottom of the airship opened. Two guards in matching red uniforms slid down ropes hanging from the gear galley. A moment later, a small basket descended from the belly of the airship. Inside were Her Majesty and two additional guards. They were lowering her basket down to the museum steps.
She didn’t have far to go before she made it to the ground, but the ringing in my ears told me we were already too late.
I pulled my pistol and motioned to Harper. Both of us rushed to join the Queen.
Edwin, looking confused, hurried behind us.
A moment later, there was a massive crashing sound inside the museum.
A hush fell over the crowd.
Victoria’s balloon basket touched down, and the Queen quickly exited as everyone turned and looked back at the museum.
A moment later, the massive doors of the museum exploded in a shower of shards and metal as an automaton busted through. The giant mech, its eyes glowing yellow, turned and tromped in the direction of Her Majesty.
I didn’t have time to get distracted by the fact that the palms of my hands were tingly, that my hair was practically standing on edge, or the little voices I always heard were whispering to me. A machine was moving with deadly intent toward my Queen. And someone had to stop it.
The Bow Street Runners blew their whistles and began shouting over the panicked screaming of the crowd.