Rise of the Arcane Fire (The Secret Order) Page 2

  But it wasn’t the life I was meant to have. For better or worse I chose to live in a world where I knew the truth, even if knowing that truth meant knowing the danger I faced. In spite of my parents’ efforts to keep me away from the Order, living in this world was better than living blindly.

  Bob, one of Mrs. Brindle’s middle sons, which put him at a burly and youthful sixty, poked his bald head into the parlor through the door that led in from the kitchen.

  “Beg your pardon, Miss Whitlock, Mother,” he said, his kindly face wrinkling around his deep-set eyes. Lucinda had hired him to care for the mews out back and act as a driver for Mrs. Brindle and me. But I knew about the pistol Bob kept in his pocket. He was here for protection, and I was glad for it, but he tended to stay to the back of the house, leaving the front vulnerable.

  “Bob, did you hear anything strange during the night?” I asked.

  “No, miss. Not a thing. A caller has arrived for you.” He tipped his hat, then left the way he’d come.

  A caller?

  Will.

  I smoothed the knot of braids at the back of my neck even as a deep twisting sensation pulled at my middle.

  My composure completely abandoned me as soon as he entered the parlor.

  “Will,” I breathed.

  He stood in the doorway with the light from the kitchen touching the dark waves of his hair. His skin had been kissed with gold from the country sun, and the low sweep of his lashes gave his shadowed eyes a sinful depth. He held a fistful of wildflowers he must have picked on his way to London from Chadwick Hall. He held them out to me as the corner of his lips turned up in a smile.

  He looked stunning, like a changeling prince stolen away from this world to be raised in a realm of mystery and illusion.

  I threw myself into his arms, and he held me, dropping the flowers to the floor. I smiled as I gained my senses and tried to put at least a modicum of respectable distance between us.

  Mrs. Brindle cleared her throat.

  I ducked my head as she skewered me with a single look. Will walked straight to her and flashed a charming smile, then kissed her hand. “Mrs. Brindle, you are looking as lovely as ever.”

  “And you are a scalawag. Best mind yourself, boy. In my day, less than that earned you a trip to the altar.” For all her apparent disapproval, she gathered the tea tray with a wry smile.

  “I should be so lucky,” he said, the hunger in his gaze heating my cheeks.

  Even Mrs. Brindle blushed. “I know what you’re about, young man. Just remember I’ve got my eye on you.” And abandoning her chaperone duties altogether, she turned for the stairs.

  I giggled. “I think she wishes to see me compromised.”

  “It’s so good to see you,” Will said, stooping to gather the flowers by the door. “I brought these for your parents.”

  I sighed and helped him gather them. “Thank you. How long are you in London?” Every moment he had been away had felt like a lifetime to me. Will held my heart, but he was working for Oliver, and the duke kept him busy. Will acted as a personal messenger for the Chadwick affairs in London while Oliver settled his estate in the country and planned his wedding. It meant Will was often traveling for days on end between London and Birmingham.

  “I’m only in town for the week. Oliver and Lucinda send their regards,” Will said. “I was also told to inform you there will be a Gathering.”

  I looked toward him in shock. “A full Gathering of the Order?” If word reached my grandfather, he would have to return for that. A Gathering meant that as many Amusementists as could muster were to meet in London at the appointed time to discuss Order business and plan the next Amusement.

  Will placed the flowers on the table. “Oliver has asked for your attendance. He figures you should address the assembly about your grandfather. One of them must know something.”

  “I do hope so,” I murmured.

  Will took my hand. “Oliver has asked for me to be there as well.”

  I felt my heart skip as I met his eyes. “He’s going to nominate you for an apprenticeship,” I said. Excitement poured through me. “Oh, Will. How wonderful.”

  He glanced back at the door and then down. “Aye. It would be a start.”

  My heart felt hopeful, and I found myself alight with giddy energy. I knew Will was concerned about making a name for himself. He had started life as a poor tinker in Scotland, then worked most of his life as a stable boy. This was his chance at a real opportunity. I knew he wasn’t satisfied with his current position. He felt it was charity on the part of Oliver to employ him.

  Now he had his chance. He could be an Amusementist.

  Will was driven beyond the aspirations of most men to make a way for himself. He needed desperately to belong to something. Once he felt secure in his fortunes, we could be married and manage the toy shop together. We could finally begin our life.

  He shifted.

  Unease set upon me once again. “Will? What’s troubling you?”

  He shook his head. “It’s nothing.” His eyes narrowed as he studied my face. He lifted a hand to my cheek and let his thumb slide near the corner of my eye. “You seem tired.”

  “I’m fine.” I turned my face toward his hand as he gently brushed his fingers over the hair by my ear. “I’ve been working too hard.”

  It was the truth. The shop had suffered from more than four years of terrible neglect. It was once again a shining gem in the bustling storefronts of Mayfair. I had worked myself to the bone to restore the shop to its former glory.

  Will led us into the front of the shop. “This looks wonderful.” With the morning sun shining through the sparkling glass windows, light danced over the bright colors of the shop. The dolls, games, toys, and puzzles seemed pleasant and cheery in the new light.

  Then I heard it again.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  I shook my head.

  “What is it?” Will asked, turning to me. “The shop is beautiful. Simon Pricket would be proud.”

  Tick, tick, tick.

  “It’s nothing,” I said, taking a step to retreat back toward the parlor. “I can’t stop thinking about my parents today. I fear it is making me a little mad.”

  He took my hand. I turned and stared at my palm folded in his. “You, mad? Never.”

  I smiled before I could help myself. “Honestly, mad. I keep hearing the ticking clocks. But that’s impossible. There are no clocks here in the shop.”

  The teasing light in Will’s eyes hardened as his smile faded to a grim line.

  “Will?” His sudden change of expression sent a pang of fear through me.

  “Shhh.” He put his finger to his lip.

  I waited.

  A heartbeat.

  Two.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  Will’s gaze locked with mine. He heard it too.

  Will set on the piles of toys, knocking things to the side as he overturned half the shop.

  I helped him, throwing myself into the muddle. It would take forever to set it all right, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t losing my sanity. Whatever was making the sound was real.

  Suddenly Will stilled. The skin over the back of my neck tightened and tingled. I stepped through the scattered toys to stare down at an odd contraption. It was a metal cube, not much larger than a hatbox, with windows cut out on every side. At the center was a heavy-looking orb that reminded me of a cannonball.

  Gears twitched on the framework surrounding the orb as a long screw twisted within a metal filigree tube that connected the ball to the solid top of the box. With each ominous tick a ghastly little device that reminded me of a spider on a twisting strand of web moved closer to the ball. With each notch downward a spider leg struck a bit of flint on the spider’s back, setting off a spark.

  I leaned closer and detected a terrifying chemical scent.

  Dear Lord, it was a bomb.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “TAKE MRS. BRINDLE AND GET OUT of here, now!” Will commanded, pull
ing the bomb in front of the shop windows, bathing it in light.

  In my mind I could see the explosion. I knew what his burned body would look like, the blackened flesh, his face torn away from the bone. I had seen it before. I could not lose someone I loved like that again. “I’m not leaving you.”

  He turned to me. “Now, Meg!”

  I stumbled backward, then rushed through the door into the parlor. Mrs. Brindle came in from the kitchen just as Bob returned from the mews.

  “Bob,” I shouted. “Get your mother away from the shop. Take her as far as you can down the street.”

  “What is it?” he asked even as he put a protective arm around his mother.

  “Just go. Alert the neighbors to a fire, then head toward the firehouse. If you hear an explosion, bring the brigade.” I shifted on my heel, ready to return to Will. I didn’t care what he said. I wasn’t leaving him to face a bomb alone.

  “Meg?” Mrs. Brindle looked fragile in her son’s arms, and scared as she reached for me.

  “Hurry!” I cried, backing away from them as Bob pulled Mrs. Brindle out the back door. I took a hasty breath and quickly darted into the shop and through the door to Simon’s workshop. I collected a box of his tools, then returned to Will’s side.

  “Damn it, Meg,” Will growled. He hadn’t said that to me in a very long time. I supposed it had been at least a couple of months since I’d last willfully put my life in danger.

  “Let me guess. My life isn’t worth it?” I handed him the tools. “I won’t leave you. Now let’s stop this thing.”

  I grasped the heavy pendant hanging on a chain around my neck. It was the most precious thing I owned. Though it looked like a silver pocket watch, it was a key, my grandfather’s master key, and it could unlock any invention the Amusementists had created. On the bomb I looked for a three-petal flower embossed on a circular medallion. It was the symbol of the Amusementists, and it often covered an invention’s locking mechanism. “Where is the lock?”

  Will gingerly tipped the contraption to the side, but the sparking wick continued down its path. “It’s here.”

  I stared at the gear wheel on the bottom of the cube. Feeling dread in the pit of my stomach, I opened the cover of my key and watched as a structure that looked like a mechanical flower emerged from the center of the casing. I tried to fit it into the gear wheel, but it wouldn’t set right. I pressed the button on the back of the key that should have turned the gear wheel and played a song I could use to unlock the machine. Instead a single note clanged out, accompanied by a sharp snap. I pulled the key back, afraid it would break. “It’s not working.”

  Will’s eyes darted over every part of the machine. I studied it as well, but the gears were protected behind riveted casings. There was no way to crack the machine open and reach the trigger. “Will, we should leave it.”

  He shook his head. “We still have time.”

  With every notch that the spider-like creature descended, time was running out. When we first found the bomb, the spider had had about two inches to go before it would touch the orb. We’d lost a quarter of an inch already. The shop wasn’t worth our lives, but if the explosion started a fire, others would be at risk. If the bomb was big enough, half of Mayfair could burn.

  Time seemed to slow, each ominous tick drawing out and lingering in the air. Without the key I didn’t know what to do. We had to stop the spider’s descent. I threw open the toolbox and rifled through the tools. Something had to be able to cut through the filigree casing around the trigger. It would be difficult. The openings in the sides of the cube didn’t leave much room for a person’s hands, even ones so small as mine.

  Will continued to study the bomb, his brow knit in deep concentration. I didn’t have time for him to uncover the inner workings of the ghastly thing. I just needed to stop that spider, and if I had to pry the damn thing open with my bare hands to do it, I would.

  I reached for a hammer.

  “Don’t,” Will said, as if he could read my mind. “There’s a glass pane at the top of the screw. If it cracks, the spider drops. We can’t damage it.”

  My heart faltered. Will may not have had much schooling, but he had a remarkable talent for understanding how things fit together. I believed him. “Then how do we stop it?”

  “Give me a moment.” He turned it again.

  “We don’t have a moment!” I watched as the spider clicked closer to the central ball. It only had about an inch to go.

  Closer.

  “Will?” I grasped his sleeve.

  Closer.

  I pulled him as hard as I could toward the door.

  “Meg, here. We have to stop this wheel.” He pointed to one of the cogs on the outer casing.

  I fumbled with my hair, finally jabbing my finger on a pin. I ripped it from my scalp. Will took the long, hooked metal and drove it through a thin crack in the casing, catching the spoke of a gear just beneath.

  The spider twitched but could not flick the flint on its back.

  “Get a spool of wire,” Will ordered, holding the pin in place.

  I rushed into Simon’s workshop. Panicked, I swept all my work off the table, and the papers flew like dried leaves.

  There! The spool of sturdy wire I had used to coil springs for my frog. I grabbed it, and half-stumbled back out of the workshop.

  “It’s here.” I thrust the wire into his hands, then dug through the tools looking for shears. Will carefully threaded the wire through the filigree tube. I helped him cut six lengths, and we created a wire net just below the spider, tied securely to the casing. The hairpin snapped, but the spider remained trapped, unable to descend past the wires woven just below him. The tick became louder, angry.

  “Now what do we do?” I asked.

  Will pushed back from the thing and scrambled to his feet. “Pray.”

  “What?” We had to get out of there. A high-pitched whine emanated from the casing. Dear God, the thing was going to explode.

  I grabbed Will and clung to his sleeve, because suddenly I felt as if my legs couldn’t move. I couldn’t run. No matter how I tried to push my body, I felt as if I were slipping through mud.

  Suddenly I felt Will’s strong arms circle my back and sweep beneath my knees. He swooped me up, cradling me against his chest as I buried my face against his neck and clung to him. He threw himself forward, carrying both of us toward the back of the shop.

  I could hear his heartbeat.

  Thump.

  The screech from the bomb grew louder.

  Thump.

  It turned to a fevered whistle.

  Thump.

  We crashed down together behind the counting desk. Will sheltered me with his body, holding me so tightly, I couldn’t breathe. His knuckles blanched as he gripped my arm.

  “I love you,” he whispered as the whistle turned to a frantic scream and the bomb casing clattered against the floor. “By God, Meg, I’ll love you always.”

  No. I refused to say such a goodbye. I loved him with my whole heart in so many ways I could never tell him. We didn’t have the time.

  I tucked my head deeper into the shelter of his body. I didn’t want to die. Not yet. It wasn’t fair. There were so many things I still wanted to do. So many things I still needed to do. I bunched the fabric of Will’s coat tighter in my fist, as if holding on to it could somehow hold him to me even if we were thrown into the hereafter.

  A loud snap echoed through the shop.

  I let out a yelp as Will flinched.

  We waited, clinging to one another, breathing hard. I could feel the pulse of his neck against my brow. Our hearts pounded as one.

  Nothing.

  Tipping my chin up, I looked Will in the eyes, daring to hope we had really averted disaster. I gave him a hesitant smile as a rush of relief, joy, and exhilaration overcame me.

  He took my face in his hands and kissed me, a burning, hungry, wicked kiss. It was a kiss that could possibly land me in the fires of hell for my sinful thoughts
alone, but at the moment I didn’t care. I wanted to burn this way. I let myself be swept away by it. As his lips slid over mine and our breath mingled, I knew we were truly alive.

  The heady rush ebbed, and I regained my senses. We were tangled together, legs, arms, my thick petticoats spilling over both of us like a cascading brook. Will glanced at my exposed calf and the buttons along the seam of my boot. I pulled back, trembling, trying to right my skirt. “We should see if it’s safe,” I said.

  Will let out a shaking breath and took another quick one, as if his mind had forgotten the process of breathing and he had to concentrate on so instinctive a task. He closed his eyes and nodded, his skin flushed.

  He looked overcome, and it nearly undid me. The intimacy of it frightened me, though I didn’t know why it should. I extracted myself from him due to an unfamiliar sense of self-preservation and inched toward the vile thing sitting at the front of my beautiful shop.

  The spider had snapped nearly in half in its effort to push through the wires. A coiled spring hung from its cracked back like tiny mechanical innards spilling from a squished bug. Good riddance. “It seems properly broken.” I breathed a sigh of relief.

  Will nodded, but his jaw had tightened, and the black look of vengeance had seeped into his eyes.

  “Will?” I could see the pressure building in him. I held a hand out to him. “Will, everything is fine. No one was harmed.”

  “Someone is trying to bloody kill you!” he shouted. I took a step back. In the time I had known him, he’d been like a rock in a stormy tide. Nothing moved him, not when he’d faced a man brandishing a pistol, and not even when he’d faced a giant mechanical sea monster.

  I touched him on the arm. It shook beneath my fingertips. “We know someone is trying to kill me. Someone has been trying to kill me for a year now. Nothing has changed.” I had meant my words to reassure him, but my own casual acceptance of my impending doom disturbed me. “Except now we have proof.”

  Will glared at the bomb and crossed his arms. “That is hardly a comfort.”

  “We’ll bring it with us when the Amusementists gather. They cannot deny that it came from one of them. The unlocking mechanism is on the bottom of the beastly thing. Finally we’ll get to the heart of this.”