Shadow of the War Machine (The Secret Order) by Kristin Bailey Page B
Authors: Kristin Bailey
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time to wait.
I didn’t know at what point I succumbed to my exhaustionand lost myself in restless dreams of heather and mountains, fire and the forge. They were misty images, fleeting through my mind. Men’s good-natured laughter, dizzying folds of plaid.
When I finally regained a sense of my own body, I found myself lost in a heavy fog. The metallic clang of gears turning surrounded me. A man strode toward me through the mist.
At first I didn’t know who it was, but he had a regal presence and proud, wide shoulders. He wore a naval captain’s coat that reminded me of the one I had taken from an automaton on a clockwork ship. As he emerged from the haze, I recognized him at once.
“Papa!” I called into the darkness, and ran to him. His eyes were hidden behind dark goggles. He embraced me without saying a word. “Where were you?” I asked. He didn’t answer, his expression stony. I had to see him, to know it was really him. I lifted the goggles from his face.
His eyes had been sewn shut like a corpse’s.
I stumbled backward and fell into a deep dark hole. A lid closed over me with a loud boom. I pounded against the lid, kicking against the dark box, a coffin. Heavy thumps banged against the coffin from falling shovelfuls of dirt. I knew I would die, buried alive.
I screamed as I woke, feeling confined and restricted. Suddenly I tumbled, and hit the floor hard. I was in the parlor, though the fire had gone cold in the grate. I was still dressed, and tangled in a thick blanket.
“Goodness, Miss Whitlock. Have you hurt yourself?” Mrs. Brindle’s granddaughter, Molly, came in from the front of the shop.
“Molly, what are you doing here? I . . . I don’t know what happened,” I stammered. I looked back up on the seat for Will, then glanced in a panic around the room, but he was nowhere in sight. A dried thistle rested near my stack of letters. Thank heaven. Suddenly the image from my dream tormented me, and I wished he were there.
It was irrational, I knew, but I wasn’t fully awake and was still shaken.
“Lucinda sent for me. She said there was some trouble, that someone had tried to break in. She thought you might need help setting things right, but I see you’ve already done it.” Molly reached down and helped me up. “Goodness, did you work all night? No wonder you’re so exhausted. I rekindled the fire in the stove. There’s boiled eggs with toast and tea in the kitchen.”
“Thank you, Molly. I’ll be ready in a moment.” I tookseveral deep breaths and tried to slow my racing heart. It took me most of the morning before I felt I had regained my composure.
With the shop restored I was able to open to patrons in spite of the broken window. Having the shop full of customers kept me distracted until tea. Molly and I took tea in the narrow kitchen. I was too exhausted to insist on anything formal. Toast, cheese, and jam at the worn table in the corner was enough.
“This note came for you,” Molly announced as she placed it on the table. I recognized the badger’s head of Peter’s seal at once. I quickly ripped the note open and read.
Meet at midnight at the Lion’s Gate.
Excellent. Hopefully I would find the answers I was searching for.
It wasn’t until I had shut down the shop and Molly had returned home that I realized I had no way of getting to Peter’s house. It was very late and bitterly cold outside. I didn’t trust hailing a cab at so late an hour, not on my own. It simply wasn’t safe.
I had to reach Peter’s house somehow. I didn’t have timeto waste. My grandfather was out there, and Rathford had probably known where he was. I buttoned my heavy coat and secured my bonnet, then wrapped a thick shawl around myself. I wished I could hide my silhouette to avoid attention from men in the street, but I couldn’t dress myself as a man, so I had to hope that the dark and cold would keep most people off the streets between the toy shop and St. James.
I decided to take
I didn’t know at what point I succumbed to my exhaustionand lost myself in restless dreams of heather and mountains, fire and the forge. They were misty images, fleeting through my mind. Men’s good-natured laughter, dizzying folds of plaid.
When I finally regained a sense of my own body, I found myself lost in a heavy fog. The metallic clang of gears turning surrounded me. A man strode toward me through the mist.
At first I didn’t know who it was, but he had a regal presence and proud, wide shoulders. He wore a naval captain’s coat that reminded me of the one I had taken from an automaton on a clockwork ship. As he emerged from the haze, I recognized him at once.
“Papa!” I called into the darkness, and ran to him. His eyes were hidden behind dark goggles. He embraced me without saying a word. “Where were you?” I asked. He didn’t answer, his expression stony. I had to see him, to know it was really him. I lifted the goggles from his face.
His eyes had been sewn shut like a corpse’s.
I stumbled backward and fell into a deep dark hole. A lid closed over me with a loud boom. I pounded against the lid, kicking against the dark box, a coffin. Heavy thumps banged against the coffin from falling shovelfuls of dirt. I knew I would die, buried alive.
I screamed as I woke, feeling confined and restricted. Suddenly I tumbled, and hit the floor hard. I was in the parlor, though the fire had gone cold in the grate. I was still dressed, and tangled in a thick blanket.
“Goodness, Miss Whitlock. Have you hurt yourself?” Mrs. Brindle’s granddaughter, Molly, came in from the front of the shop.
“Molly, what are you doing here? I . . . I don’t know what happened,” I stammered. I looked back up on the seat for Will, then glanced in a panic around the room, but he was nowhere in sight. A dried thistle rested near my stack of letters. Thank heaven. Suddenly the image from my dream tormented me, and I wished he were there.
It was irrational, I knew, but I wasn’t fully awake and was still shaken.
“Lucinda sent for me. She said there was some trouble, that someone had tried to break in. She thought you might need help setting things right, but I see you’ve already done it.” Molly reached down and helped me up. “Goodness, did you work all night? No wonder you’re so exhausted. I rekindled the fire in the stove. There’s boiled eggs with toast and tea in the kitchen.”
“Thank you, Molly. I’ll be ready in a moment.” I tookseveral deep breaths and tried to slow my racing heart. It took me most of the morning before I felt I had regained my composure.
With the shop restored I was able to open to patrons in spite of the broken window. Having the shop full of customers kept me distracted until tea. Molly and I took tea in the narrow kitchen. I was too exhausted to insist on anything formal. Toast, cheese, and jam at the worn table in the corner was enough.
“This note came for you,” Molly announced as she placed it on the table. I recognized the badger’s head of Peter’s seal at once. I quickly ripped the note open and read.
Meet at midnight at the Lion’s Gate.
Excellent. Hopefully I would find the answers I was searching for.
It wasn’t until I had shut down the shop and Molly had returned home that I realized I had no way of getting to Peter’s house. It was very late and bitterly cold outside. I didn’t trust hailing a cab at so late an hour, not on my own. It simply wasn’t safe.
I had to reach Peter’s house somehow. I didn’t have timeto waste. My grandfather was out there, and Rathford had probably known where he was. I buttoned my heavy coat and secured my bonnet, then wrapped a thick shawl around myself. I wished I could hide my silhouette to avoid attention from men in the street, but I couldn’t dress myself as a man, so I had to hope that the dark and cold would keep most people off the streets between the toy shop and St. James.
I decided to take
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