Read Turnkey (The Gaslight Volumes of Will Pocket Book 1) Online
Authors: Lori Williams,Christopher Dunkle
I think.
Without word, I
carried forward.
I’d like to be
able to tell you that I met with no further interruptions on my way, but after
the story I’ve spun, hell, you probably wouldn’t believe me if I did.
For a moment I
thought I’d gotten lucky. There seemed to be no witnesses to my little standoff
with the patrolman, and I was now moving unfollowed.
But of course,
whatever fortune or luck I’d quickly gained was just as quickly lost.
A pair of black
coats stood like gargoyles against the stone of a building as I came galloping
into their roost. They were quick with their claws and aimed shiny rifles at
me. I looked at them and silently raised my pistol back at them.
They had a good
laugh at this.
“Oh, what’s this?”
smiled one of the Magnates, a stout but thick bruiser with a chin like a knobby
tree trunk. “I think the unwashed little rat’s wants to shoot us dead.”
“That’s cocky
thinking,” his partner said, a taller man who stood bristling beneath a thick
grey beard. “Especially considering it’s a good two-on-one fight.”
“Yeah,” the knobby
chin added, “two men against one rat.”
I didn’t have
anything to say them. No reason. No point. I just stood around, catching my
breath and holding out my gun. I didn’t honestly believe I could take down both
of these gargoyles and get out alive, but I wasn’t afraid either. I know that
seems contradictory to the mental state I’ve been painting thus far, but in
that moment I really couldn’t feel the presence of fear. Me, the man too
afraid, mere minutes ago, to walk up a simple set of stairs. And the only
explanation I can offer is that perhaps the constant strain of misadventure on
my sanity had resulted in a somewhat haywired working of my emotions. I just
prayed the wrong ones wouldn’t start to misfire.
I frowned at the
bearded Magnate, more impatient than forlorn. I think he could smell the
fermentation of that outlook on me, because he puffed his nostrils and shifted
his jaw to the side.
“Will Pocket!” the
chin spoke, reciting the words as if to conjure a spell against me.
I sighed and put
my hands up in submission.
“You can drop that
pistol as well!”
I glanced and saw
that I was in fact holding my weapon skyward, looking like I was about to
conduct the start of a footrace. Emotionally drained, I could only smirk at the
gun and ask what it was doing way up there.
“You hear me,
Pocket?!?” the chin snarled. “You drop it now or we start shooting.”
“He’s not
bluffing!” the beard reassured.
I sighed in
delirium. “No, I suppose he wouldn’t be. Bluffing requires subtlety.”
“What’s that,
now?” the beard barked.
“The two of you
aren’t terribly complex characters. In fact, all you’re really doing is slowing
down the narrative.”
“Shut up!” the
chin cut in. “This is your last chance!”
“Fine.”
I tossed the
pistol to them. It slid and landed a few steps before the beard’s feet. Damn, I
thought, berating the gun. The least you could’ve done was spit a shot when you
hit the ground, maybe take out an ankle. I must’ve closed my eyes momentarily
after because I don’t remember seeing the two men rush me.
Thwack! The sound
bellowed between my ears as my body hit the brick road. Grunting like a
gorilla, the chin had slammed his weight into me, and once I was down, he
squeezed his boot against my throat. I coughed and winced, trying to breathe as
best as I could under the crushing weight of his heel. My head pounding and
vision blurry, I stared up at the Magnate and saw him aim his weapon at my
forehead.
“Hey, hey!” the
beard said. “Orders say to capture alive if at all possible. For questioning.”
“I can’t think of
any questions,” the chin chuckled, making a sickening grin. “Can you?”
“Still—“
He was interrupted
by the cocking click of his partner’s gun. “You’ve got one chance, boy,” the
chin said to me. “Start talking.”
I said nothing.
“Come on. You know
what we’re after.”
Nothing.
The beard sighed
and crossed his arms. “All right,” he said to the other. “Do what you want. But
I didn’t see any of this.”
The chin jammed a
malevolent spark into the crusty corner of his eye and tapped the gun barrel
against my temple. I closed my eyes and waited for fate to unfold.
Damndest thing,
though. Fate had a couple of hecklers in the front row.
“Oi!” a voice in the distance shouted. “Are you killing a man there?”
I slowly opened my
right eye and saw two oddly-dressed figures approach from the shadows. They
seemed to have a variety of household objects tied onto their respective
persons.
Oh, no.
“Evening!” Doctor
P said. “God bless the King and all that! So are you taking a life here?”
The chin jerked
his head to the interlopers and exhaled pure, unadulterated annoyance. The
beard bristled but held up a hand to his partner. Gravely, he addressed the
onlooking Marin brothers with what I can only assume was just-barely-suppressed
disdain.
“Gentlemen,” he
said to the peddlers, “I’m afraid you are encroaching on very official, very
royal, and
very
private business, so if you’ll kindly refrain from
interrupting—”
“Oh, we aren’t
interrupting!” Doctor P laughed. “Wouldn’t dream of it! Would we, Brother?”
“Never!” Doctor D
smiled.
“We’re just
curious onlookers, is all. Aren’t we, Brother?”
“Quite curious!”
“Well, be that as
it may,” rumbled the beard, “this is not the sort of business that allows an
audience. Might I suggest you boys go find a circus to entertain your want of—“
“A circus!” Doctor
P laughed. “At this time of night! This one’s hilarious, Brother!”
“Very hilarious!”
Doctor D chortled.
“Look—” the beard
began.
“It’s just that
we’ve never witnessed any form of execution,” Doctor P explained. “Sure, back
in the days of our youths, a gent and his lady could frequent the town square
any day of the week and witness a fresh hanging, but you must admit, in these
more
civilized
times, such an opportunity is rare!”
“See, we are students of the human experience!” Doctor D added.
“Exactly, Brother!
Human experience! And you can’t very well study that without the all-important
element of death! I mean, take this gent here. The one under your friend’s
heel. What’s his name, then?”
The chin snorted,
shaking the pistol in his grip. “That’s hardly any of your—“
“Oh, it’s
you,
Mister
Pocket!” Doctor D gleefully exclaimed, clapping his hands and strolling right
past the burly Magnates to where I lay. “I nearly didn’t recognize you! What
are you doing down there!”
“Well…” I uttered,
“it appears I am about to die.”
“Ah, aren’t we
all, Pocket? Aren’t we all?”
“Not really at
this moment, no.”
“Look!” the beard
bellowed, losing what was left of his poise. “If you two vagrants don’t start
walking away
this
moment, I’ll have you shot where you stand for
interfering with—“
“No need for all
of that!” Doctor P grinned. “We were just on our way, anyhow. Shame though,
would’ve loved to witness the snuffing of the human spirit. No offense, Mister
Pocket.”
“Yeah, none
taken,” I grumbled.
“Get them out of
here!” the chin hissed.
The beard nodded,
grabbed Doctor D, and violently tossed him into his brother. The Marin boys
scrambled, but kept their footing.
“Easy now!” Doctor
P yelped. “You’ll irritate my temperament!”
The Magnate
snorted and cracked his knuckles. Doctor P made a silly grimace and lifted his
palms to his face. As the beard closed in, the wild-eyed peddler erupted with a
loud sneeze. A puff of grey smoke shot forward from his hands and into the
other’s face. The bearded Magnate swore, wafted the fumes away, and suddenly
collapsed.
“He
did
warn
you, sir,” Doctor D sheepishly shrugged to the now unconscious man. The chin,
naturally, was enraged and swung his weapon away from my forehead and over to
the two clowns. I took the opportunity and elbowed the remaining Magnate in the
back of his knee, toppling him over. He yelled and fired randomly as he tumbled
down. The Marvelous Marins danced quickly out of the way of the sudden bullet
fire.
I leapt upon the
grunting soldier and tried to pin him to the ground. The weapon was still
shaking in his hand, but Doctor P was ready with another magic sneeze, and as
the grey cloud met with the snarling chin, my opponent took a well-deserved nap
in the street.
I couldn’t move or
speak for about a minute. I just stared at the unconscious man with the gun,
readying myself for his sudden revival. When it became apparent that he
wouldn’t be returning to his senses anytime soon, I nervously looked upon the
brothers in disbelief.
“They’re…asleep?”
I managed to ask.
The Marins were
all smiles and rosy cheeks.
“Perfectly
asleep!” Doctor D grinned.
“You’re welcome
there, Mister Pocket,” his brother added. “Seems we arrived on the scene not a
moment too soon.”
“You mean, you…you
boys planned to…”
“No, no, of course
not. But we’re not so unlearned that we can’t spot a gent in a bind.”
I slowly stood up
and tapped my foot against both of the unmoving bodies.
“What the hell did
you do to them?” I gasped.
“Sacred diamond
dust of the East Indies!” Doctor D explained. “Mined, harvested, and shipped to
our fair Britain by the indigenous shamans! Notoriously potent on the
unwilling.”
I chewed on the
corner of my lip. “So it’s a sleeping powder?”
Doctor P shook his
head. “Well, if you want to put it in such base terms…”
I surprised myself
by smirking, but only for a moment. “Thank you,” I said, sincerely.
“Our pleasure,”
Doctor D said, also uncommonly sincere. He then politely retrieved the pistol I
had thrown down to the brutes and placed it back in my hand. “Now, what else
can we do to help?”
I narrowed my eyes
and looked up to where the city roofs met the horizon.
“I don’t suppose
you boys have gotten your caravan repaired, have you?”
Minutes later, I
was clinging to the fresh wood that had been nailed onto
the…eh…”gasoline-exhausted” body frame of the Marins’ travelling shop as it
sped through the night.
“I suggest you
keep a good grip, Mister Pocket!” Doctor D shouted as he steered the vehicle.
“I’m afraid this isn’t quite the ride of luxury we’re used to providing!”
I heeded the
advice but urged the boys to pilot their caravan at as great of an acceleration
as they could manage and to give little thought to the issue of my personal
safety.
I didn’t realize
how well they would listen to me.
“Gaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”
I yelped as Doctor P poured bottle after bottle of….something…into the
vehicle’s charred gas engine, resulting in the equivalent of thirty mules
kicking along against the wheelwork.
“Everything fine
back there, Pocket?” he called out after knocking the last drops of some clear
and quite volatile liquid into the machine.
The wind caught my
hat and lifted it from my head. I stupidly threw an arm out to snatch it,
succeeded, but lost my balance.
“Easy!” Doctor P
said, reaching out and hooking elbows with me. “Now’s not the time to plant
yourself in the ground!”
“Agreed,” I said,
white-faced and pulling my weight back onto the runaway caravan.
“This might be a
late time to ask this,” Doctor D shouted from his perch, “but where exactly are
we headed?”
“I’m not sure!” I
yelled to him.
“Well, that’s
going to make things difficult!”
“Yeah…” I
admitted, yanking the brim of my hat down upon my eyebrows. “I’m looking for a
very tall cathedral somewhere in the center of the city!”
“Center of
London?!?
”
Doctor P responded. “That could be any number of places!”
“We could tour
them all!” Doctor D suggested.
“No!” I shouted
over the wind, teeth half-chattering. “I don’t have the time for that! I must
get there before daybreak!”
“Daybreak?” Doctor
P responded. “Why that’ll come in only—Brother! Look out!”
The caravan
careened over something small that I hoped wasn’t someone’s pet. We skidded off
the established road and down a path of stone steps, through an open courtyard,
and through a drained and thankfully shallow decorative fountain.
A shortcut is a
shortcut, I suppose.
We carried forward
in such a fashion until we arced up a small hill that fed into a larger
district of London. Then, Doctor D quickly brought our ride to a jarring halt,
knocking me to the street in the process.
My feet hit the
ground and I took a moment to convince my body that it had stopped moving.
“Looks like this
is as far as we can take you,” Doctor D shouted from his seat.
“Good,” I mumbled,
dizzily readjusting my eyeglass. “Wait, why?”
Doctor P disembarked
and brought my attention to the scene ahead. I saw it and frowned.
“Oh,” I said
sickly. “And there isn’t any other route?”
“You wanted the
center of London before daybreak,” Doctor P huffed. “This is the fastest way
there.”
“Doubt any other
path will be any less guarded,” his brother added, climbing down.
I frowned and
peered over the scene before me. The residential area just ahead was absolutely
littered with black coats. Magnates prowled the streets like stray dogs looking
for the scent of garbage.
Only the garbage
was me.
I shuffled
nervously back a little and bumped into the Marins.
“Don’t worry,”
Doctor P said. “They can’t see us from here.”