Ticker (8 page)

Wall sconces lit the way down the stone stairs and along another cold corridor. Once we reached a twisted iron staircase, modern blue phosphorescence yielded to vintage oil lamps. I could feel Nic’s wary gaze shift from our surroundings to me every so often, though he didn’t give further voice to his worries. Inwardly, I agreed this would be a most inopportune time and place to suffer an attack and issued my Ticker a severe warning.

Just in time, too, as I reached the third stair from the bottom and it gave way under my weight, unceremoniously dumping me into the lower corridor. Terrified that the least bit of noise would summon the Unseen, I did my best to muffle my squeak of alarm.

“Are you all right?” Nic asked as he picked me up off the floor.

I nodded, but I’d scraped the flesh on both palms, and pain radiated from both knees. My flashlight had rolled a few feet away; only when we recovered it did we notice that the lanterns along the next wall had been smashed. The Beetles in this corridor had been
deactivated as well. They littered the floor, some of them crushed by boot heels, leaving smears of copperslip oil on the stones. The one nearest my shoe struggled to rise on shaky legs. With a flick of his wings, he began walking in erratic circles.

I carefully stepped over him and dimmed the flashlight to its lowest setting. The resultant darkness was an inky cloak, forcing us to make our way in a single-file procession, with each of us holding on to the person in front and behind. By the time we reached the end of the hallway, a hundred or more Beetles climbed the walls, scuttling with bent legs and broken antennae to their programmed stone quadrant. One ill-timed sneeze, and the Unseen would reappear.

Luckily enough, the final gate I encountered was no longer fastened. The lock had been forced, the iron lattice roughly pushed to one side. I squeezed Nic’s hand, using the same series of dots and dashes that I would with the RiPA.

THEY ARE HERE - PROCEED WITH CAUTION

Nic relayed the message to Sebastian who, in turn, passed it to Violet. The catacombs were as still as a tomb, but if I’d been expecting cobwebs, a fetid stench, or a skeleton rattling his bones, I was disappointed. Invisible heating vents pumped clean air into the room, maintaining the appropriate temperature and humidity for preserving paper documentation. Set few and far between, ox-eye windows transmitted the meager aboveground light, transforming it into something curious and thin and green. Throughout the room, papers and ledgers filled bookcases, cabinets, and tables. The knowledge of generations surrounded us, seeping into the stones and brushing over our skin so that the hairs on the back of my neck prickled up.

The dead were with us, even if their bones resided elsewhere.

NIC AND I GO LEFT - V AND S GO RIGHT

We separated, picking careful paths and sticking to the shadows. My eyes adjusted to the lack of light, but I still thought with longing of the Starshine goggles sitting on my desk at home. Of course, a MAG wouldn’t come amiss now either, especially when I recognized the outline of a man’s head just before me. I knew by the way that Nic tensed up that he’d seen him as well. Pixii charged, I crept up behind our quarry. With a leap, I discharged everything I had into his neck with a burst of light and the accompanying muffled pop!

Except the Pixii wasn’t designed to work on marble, so the bust of Malachi Baynard, one of Industria’s founding scientists, wasn’t at all perturbed by such an attack. I had no chance to recover my wits before a scuffle broke out to our right. Someone shoved Violet aside, and multiple dark figures suddenly dipped and ducked between the stacks. We gave chase, though pursued and pursuers alike moved in near silence. Papers took to the air like geese leaving a mill pond and then fell with whispers. A shelf started to fall, and Nic rushed to stabilize it. A thick ledger toppled off a podium, but I caught it before it could hit the floor. When I turned around, Sebastian had one of the burglars cornered, the tip of his short sword pressed to the soft skin of his opponent’s throat. Violet sat upon the back of another, twisting his arms behind him until he whimpered. That left a third for Nic and me: the one scaling a ladder set into the wall. A heavy satchel swung in his grip. In his haste, he missed a rung and slid halfway down the wall, cursing all the way.

The Beetles commenced their twitching dance. I froze, but my prey accessed a glowing device strapped to his wrist. When he depressed a button, the bird cry we heard earlier bounced off every stone, every pane of glass. As one, the mechanical bugs seized and fell. The burglar immediately resumed climbing, and I vaulted over a stack of ledgers, charging the Pixii as I ran. Arriving at the ladder, I had to put the device between my teeth before starting up the rungs, nimble as a monkey.

“I’m right behind you—” Nic stopped suddenly, and I twisted about to see a fourth thief catch my brother about the neck and pull him back to the floor.

Nic plowed three quick blows into the thief’s midsection. “Go!” he panted between punches. “Catch the one with the cards!”

I hesitated, as surprised by the swiftness and violence of my brother’s attack as I was by the dark expression on his face. By the time I resumed climbing, the burglar had reached the top of the ladder and disappeared through a narrow opening. Doubling my speed, it took me less than a minute to gain the crawl space with a heave and grunt; it was another matter entirely to scramble forward with yards of dove-colored foulard trailing behind me. On hands and knees, I moved through complete darkness, choking on dust, eyes struggling to make out anything at all.

Ahead of me was a dragging noise, the scrape of heavy fabric and metal on stone, then my right hand encountered the rough burlap sack containing the Eidolachometer cards. I tightened my grip upon it just in time for the burglar to pull both the sack and me into an alleyway. I lost my grip on the Pixii, and it skittered across the stones, disappearing into the thick fog that swirled about us.

“Leave off!” the thief growled, trying to shake me free of the bag. I refused to let go, though I was at a distinct disadvantage in both size and weaponry. He stood a head taller than I and wielded
a short, wicked blade. He didn’t hesitate to swing it in my direction, either. “Troublesome little snip—”

My boot connected with his wrist. His knife went spinning down the alleyway. I lowered my head and charged, my skull connecting with his midsection, and the two of us went down in a tangle of limbs and a torrent of swearing.

All the colorful language coming out of my opponent nearly muffled the sound of approaching sirens and the hissing pops of a hundred activated
Lampyridae mechanika
. Falling like shooting stars, the Fireflies careened overhead in a blur of mica wings, exposed clockwork mechanisms, and blue phosphorescent abdomens. By their light, I could just make out the bandit’s face.

“Air support’s on its way,” I said. Not even a bluff, because the distinctive whirring noise of rappelling wires signaled incoming Araneae.

“The only one who’s going to get caught blazing is you.” The thief shoved the burlap sack at me.

Thrown back by the weight of it, I hit the side of the brick building hard enough to jar everything from my Ticker to my toes. The impact forced my eyes closed—only for half a second, but that was long enough for my attacker to disappear into the shadows. The next moment, a dozen Araneae landed in the alley with the silent precision of spiders on silk lines. Six of the specially trained Ferrum Viriae unclipped from their harnesses and pursued the burglar. The rest swiftly surrounded me.

“Well timed,” I said, scorn my only defense.

The tallest of them stepped forward like a jungle cat, with eyes that could obviously see far better in the dark than mine. Boots that should have made a heavy footfall on the cobblestones moved with uncanny silence.

“Of course it would be
you
,” Marcus said, removing his face shield.

“Did you miss me?” Even breathless, I infused the words with a surprising amount of sarcasm. Ill-advised, I’m sure, but the remaining vestiges of fear and adrenaline needed some outlet.

“I’ve no polite answer for that question, Miss Farthing, and so I’ll refrain from saying anything.” Such formality made him sound older, but the exasperation behind the words betrayed him as he reached for the bag of Eidolachometer cards.

I considered resisting and then thought better of it. Despite my irritation, some traitorous part of me was reassured by his presence. “You’re welcome.”

“For what?” Marcus asked, never taking his gaze off me.

“For retrieving the stolen property.” I scanned the alley until I spotted my Pixii in a heap of unidentifiable refuse. I retrieved it, wrinkling my nose and wiping off the device with my handkerchief. Depressing the resistance switch, I was gratified to see it still worked. “Isn’t that supposed to be your job? Shall I send you a bill?”

“Not unless you want to explain to a judge why you undermined a covert operation.” Marcus closed the distance between us; another man would have done it in ten steps, but he did it in five. “I knew the thieves were in the catacombs. We were trying to catch the gang red-handed, but thanks to you, one seems to have escaped.”

Startled by the note of anger, I looked up until my entire world consisted of dark wool and his broad shoulders. “I was only doing what was necessary—”

“Wrong,” he said, interrupting me. “We’ve met three times today, Miss Farthing, and thrice your reactions have put me or one of my soldiers in jeopardy. I can’t guess how you’ll behave in any
given situation, except I can bet money that you’ll conduct yourself poorly, and that makes you a liability.”

“You certainly know how to turn a girl’s head with compliments, Mister Kingsley.” Cold fury iced over my Ticker, and slick silver needles coursed through my veins in place of blood. “Are you quite finished?”

“Not even close. You’re going to have to explain to my satisfaction why every site of destruction and mayhem today has centered around your family and property.” Marcus tapped out a message on his RiPA.

Violet emerged from the crawl space with Sebastian just behind.

“Can the interrogation wait a few minutes?” Sebastian queried calmly. “We have three criminals tied up in the catacombs. It wouldn’t have taken us so long to meet up with you, but there’s precious little rope down there, and we had to improvise. Nic is sitting on them right now.”

Marcus dispatched two officers with a flick of his finger just as a silver SkyDart landed a few feet away. Designed for swift transport to and from the Flying Fortress, the aircrafts were too new and too expensive for civilian ownership and certainly not yet for hire by the hour. I’d never actually seen one of them up close and tried not to stare at the sleek lines that reminded me of a crossbow bolt, the open cockpit, the tendrils of luminous smoke created by the air-breathing engines.

“Just what is that thing for?” I asked.

“That thing, Miss Farthing, is your ride. I’m taking you in for more questioning.”

I took a step back and found myself up against the wall for the second time in as many minutes. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Marcus Kingsley. I won’t be treated like a criminal.”

“I merely require a place of relative safety where I can offer you all due hospitality.” When Marcus took me by the elbow, my choice was to walk or be dragged.

I chose the former, but not by a wide margin. “While you torture me within an inch of my life?”

“While I take down your statement of this day’s events.” He unfolded the SkyDart’s metal stairs.

Though I liked it not a whit, I knew I had to go with him. Marcus was in possession of the Eidolachometer cards, and they might be the only way to get my parents back. The short exchange of words with the burglar had planted seeds of ice and fear in my midsection.

Caught up in my worries, I paused at the foot of the stairs. “I should wait for Nic.”

Marcus twisted about to address our somewhat dumbfounded audience. “Mister Stirling, would you please advise your friend on the gravity of the situation?”

Sebastian’s face was pale under his fashionable mustache. “Get in the SkyDart, Penny.”

Just because I had to go didn’t mean I had to be polite about it. I cast a deliberate glance at the burnished oxblood leather. “I never agreed to air travel. I’ll be sick all over your very expensive upholstery.”

“This should take care of it.” Marcus reached under the front seat and extracted a bottle of Doctor Westerley’s Vitamin-Fortified Liquid Courage.

I rolled it over in my hand.

A T
ONIC OF
C
ONCENTRATED
C
URATIVE
P
OWER
& A M
OST
E
FFECTIVE
T
INCTURE
CONCOCTED FROM
F
ENNEL
S
EED
, P
EPPERMINT
, W
ILD
L
ICORICE, AND
G
INGER
.
G
UARANTEED TO REGULATE AND STRENGTHEN
THE DIGESTIVE SYSTEM!
W
ILL ALSO ADDRESS SYMPTOMS OF THE COMMON COLD
AND EASE ACHING JOINTS
.
50
PROOF

But I wasn’t done arguing. “This only has room for two. Where are the others going to sit?”

“The others are going to follow in a second transport as soon as we retrieve your brother,” Marcus said, impatience clipping his consonants. “Now, will you please take your seat?”

When I continued to hesitate, I thought he might pick me up and toss me in. Instead, he reached for my hand and gave me the bag of Eidolachometer cards.

“I’ll entrust this to you for the duration of the flight.”

A moment passed, with something more exchanged than just the bag of purloined and recovered goods. Energy crackled between us until I felt an unexpected kinship with Tesla coils. Marcus looked as though he very much wanted to say something, his eyes the same somber gray as his uniform, a bit of bristle standing out on his cheeks and chin. I wondered if it felt as sandpaper rough as it looked, but wouldn’t have dared remove my glove to touch his face.