The Clockwork Wolf (19 page)

“Almost as bad,” he muttered. “That's Lady Raynard, his honor's wife.”

The tip of a fan emerged from the coach's window and rapped sharply on its side, which brought a footman who hurried to open it and help down the passenger.

Lady Raynard stepped out like a queen, standing serenely as a maid appeared and shook out the folds of her mistress's voluminous gown. I took in what must
have been fifty yards of ruched lace fluttering from seven tiers of glossy satin skirts and crawling up a pearl-encrusted bodice to encircle a thin neck and drape along sleeves of lace buttoned with gleaming cabochons of polished shell from wrist to elbow. To make matters worse, the entire ensemble—including the pearls—had been dyed a particularly livid shade of yellow-green.

The lady snapped open the fan she held, which sent the maid back into the coach, and then held out one hand. The footman positioned his arm beneath her ladyship's and escorted her as she approached us.

I couldn't take my eyes off her wig, the whitened curls of which had been fashioned into the shape of a swan. A real swan's head sprang from the powdered nest and bobbed regally with every step she took.

“Is that a bird on her head?” I murmured to the nobber as I watched her closing the gap between us.

“Aye,” he muttered back as he surreptitiously straightened the line of his sleeves by tugging on the cuffs. “It matches her brains.”

“Good evening, citizens.” Lady Raynard halted with the languid elegance of kind condescension, her movements sending a thick waft of French perfume to roll over me and the patrolman. As we both tried not to breathe it in, she dismissed her footman with an elegant flutter of her fan. “It is a pleasant night, is it not?”

As the nobber bowed I bobbed, but after his perfunctory, “Yes, madam” I had to say something. “Very pleasant, milady.”

She turned her gaze on me. “You are not a resident here, I think.”

She knew I wasn't. “I have been summoned here, milady.” And since I doubted she had ever once personally addressed ordinary citizens on the street, she almost certainly had to be the author of the note I'd received. “If you'll excuse me.”

“I most certainly will not.” She softened the snappish words with a patronizing smile. “The welfare of my dear friend Lady Bestly is my every concern now that she has suffered the unthinkable.” She eyed the nobber. “This is nothing to do with you, Patrolman. You may go.”

The nobber nodded, bowed again, and leaned his head down to mine. “Back in a trice. Mind your mouth.”

Once he departed, Lady Raynard minced closer, inspecting me as she might a confection she wished to devour. “You smell of horse, and your skirts are in an atrocious state. What are you doing here, Miss Kittredge?”

She'd need more than a fan to get me to jump. “Why, milady, I wasn't aware that we had been introduced.”

“One does not require introductions to those in service.” She didn't bother to make that sound pretty. “Indeed, I have been made aware of your association with our poor, dear Eugenia, and your calls upon each other. As there is always some unsavory sort willing to take advantage of a grieving widow, and my dear friend struggles so with her social responsibilities, I should like to know how I may aid her. Now.”

She'd brought me to the Hill to find out why Eugenia had hired me or why she wasn't properly mourning. Probably both. “You must discuss that with Lady Bestly, madam.”

The swan's head bobbed as she drew back a step. “Do you know who I am? My husband is the mayor of this city.”

“Forgive me, milady.” I heard something rustling in the hedgerow, and glanced in that direction before I added, “It is not my place to discuss Lady Bestly or her affairs with anyone, even you.”

“Hawkins.” She fairly screeched the name, and the footman came running. When he flanked her she pointed at me. “Put this ungrateful chit in the coach. We shall continue this discussion at Raynard Manor.”

The footman reached out to grab my arm, and I tensed as I readied to shove him off, but before he touched me something nearby growled, low and with deep menace.

“What is that?” Lady Raynard exclaimed. “A dog? Hawkins—”

I heard the sound of windings and gears and seized Lady Raynard. “You must leave now, milady.”

The swan on her head thrashed as if trying to escape the nest of her hair while Lady Raynard sputtered several genteel variations of “How dare you” and “Unhand me at once.” I ignored her protestations and forced her to march along with me back to her coach. She resisted further by backpeddling her steps, only to lose one silk slipper, which her footman bent and scooped up as he trotted along after us.

I would have liked nothing better than to jump into her fairiestale wagon and ride far, far away from the thing behind us, but I couldn't abandon Lady Bestly or the nobber. I reached for the passenger door's gilded handle,
jerking it open so quickly it slammed back against the gold-scrolled back panel of the coach.

A howl of fury made Hawkins glance back. “Miss, what is that?”

Trying to push Lady Raynard into the coach was proving more of an obstacle, as she had now latched onto both sides of the door frame. I looked over at Hawkins. “It's a Wolfman.”

His eyes widened, and he rushed to help me. Together we pried off the now-screeching Lady Raynard's grip from the frame, and once Hawkins had lifted her off her feet I gave her a quick push that sent her tumbling inside, her face and the swan disappearing behind a billow of skirts.

“You, too, gel,” the footman said, offering me his gloved hand.

I shook my head. “Get her out of here.”

I intended to make a mad dash for the house but never got the chance. As soon as the driver raced away the beast came barreling out of the hedge at me.

A shot rang out, and the Wolfman fell and skidded across the lawn to stop in a heap of hair and shredded garms almost at my feet. Behind him I saw Lady Bestly standing at an open window, smoke still curling from the rifle she held.

I glanced down at the beast, who was rapidly transforming back into a man. He twitched several times before he went still, and when I nudged him over with my boot I saw a fist-sized hole in his chest sprouting springs and gears.

Another vicious growl made me look up to see a second Wolfman hulking toward me.

“She'll shoot you, too,” I called to it, and as if it understood me it looked back at Lady Bestly, who had trained her rifle on his chest. “You have been bespelled by magic that will kill you, sir, but I can stop it.”

The Wolfman began to revert to his mortal state, lowered his head, and whined.

“Kittredge.” That was Lady Bestly, and she sounded furious. “What are you doing?”

“Talking to it.” I kept my voice soothing as I edged along the walkway and spoke to the creature again. “There's still a man inside you, and despite his deplorable taste in clubs I expect he's a good man at heart. You must resist the urges you feel and let him guide you.”

Gears ground together, making his limbs jerk, and the Wolfman's eyes glittered as he lifted his head. He bared his teeth, snapping at the air.

“Or not,” I said, reaching down with my hands to take hold of my skirts. “Milady, close the window and lock it.”

“Kittredge, you'll never make the door.”

“I know.” I spun on my heel and ran.

The Wolfman came at me from the side, impossibly fast, and knocked me flat a foot from her ladyship's front entry. I rolled to the side, banging into the cage of mourning doves, which fell over me and opened, releasing the frantic occupants in a flutter of gray wings. I seized the cage as I scrambled up, holding it before me like a shield. The Wolfman tore it apart with two swipes of his claws before they disappeared.

I drew the dagger from my sleeve and held it ready. “I don't think you were a good chap after all,” I told the snarling man. “Come on, then.”

As he grabbed at me I slashed his arm almost down to the bone, but the wound did nothing to slow him. Blood spattered me as he tossed me out onto the lawn and came after, straddling me as he went down on his knees. I gave up trying to spare him and drove the blade into the center of his chest, but the hard metal beneath the flesh deflected the blow. Fire blazed up my arm as he clamped on to my wrist, shaking it like a dog with a bone until I lost my grip on the dagger.

A strong arm latched round the Wolfman's throat, hauling him backward and laying him out on his back. I watched as a native wearing a cape of blue feathers planted his bare foot in the beast's now-mortal face, pinning his thrashing body down as he drew an ancient pistol and fired point-blank into his heart. He removed his foot and produced a second pistol, firing again into the beast's head.

I turned my head to see the remains only inches from my face, and felt bile rise in my throat. When I looked up to see if the native meant to shoot me as well, he had disappeared.

The nobber came rushing up, bending to check the dead man before reaching to help me up.

“Check the hedges,” I told him. “There may be more of them.”

He nodded and trotted off to have a look. I stared up at the night sky until Lady Bestly appeared over me, rifle still in hand. “It's not safe for you out here, milady.”

“Nor you, Kittredge.” She got me up and supported me with her arm. “Come inside.”

She helped me into the house and steered me into the
receiving room, where she led me to a crackling hearth. As soon as I saw the fine tapestry covering the chair there I grimaced. “I can't. I've blood and dirt all over me.”

“I expect that is not a new experience.” Lady Bestly gave me a gentle shove into the chair and covered me with her own silk shawl. “I must go and collect some things from the kitchens. You will not move from this spot.”

I glanced at the windows. “But milady—”

“I still have my husband's rifle, Kittredge,” she informed me in her snootiest tone, “and I quite enjoyed firing it. Do not tempt me to shoot you in the leg.”

She hurried out and I rested my aching head against the pillowy wing of the chair back. My arm felt like lead, and when I tried to move my hand the resulting pain made me bite back a groan. A second attempt assured me that my wrist was only badly sprained, not broken. I pulled back the shawl to check for bite marks, but all I spied was something gleaming in my flesh.

I sank my teeth into my bottom lip as I used a corner of the shawl to grasp the slippery shard of metal and tug it free. As fresh blood welled up in its place I held up the sharply pointed brass to examine it. It appeared to be the tip of a broken tooth. The inside hollow still held a bit of jointed mech and a tiny gear.

Animechs were fashioned to behave like the real animals they imitated: owls hooted, rabbits hopped, butterflies fluttered. I recalled the duchess I'd watched from the tram perambulating with her animech cheetah; along with blinking its topaz eyes it had sauntered, flicked its ears, and switched its tail.

I closed my fist round the broken claw. Just before the Wolfman had attacked me I'd heard its windings and gears working. We'd assumed the mech being put inside these men was to make them stronger and faster, which it certainly did. But just as animechs were fashioned to behave like their living counterparts, perhaps the Wolfmen had been designed to do more? Could the beast-maker have designed his creatures to do some other evil while on rampage?

Lady Bestly reappeared with a basin of water, a pile of linen strips, and a jar of salve on a tray, which she set on the table beside me. “What is that in your hand?”

I opened my fist to show her. “I think it's a piece of brass tooth. It was lodged in my arm.” I yelped as she plucked it from my palm and tossed it into the fire. “Milady.”

“This unseemly curiosity of yours will get you killed someday,” she informed me as she drew back the shawl and studied my arm. “That beast looked as if he meant to tear your arm from your shoulder. I hope it is not broken.” She retrieved a pair of scissors from the tray. “I must cut away your sleeve. Who was that native in all the blue feathers?”

“I don't know him,” I said. “I think I saw him once, in town. Could he be in service to one of your neighbors?”

“If he was, he would be dressed very differently,” she said as she began to snip. “It was very good of him to dispatch that other beast.”

“I thought so, too.” What plagued me was why he had bothered.

“I saw you also met Lady Raynard.” Her lips thinned as she asked, “What manner of ham-handed scheme did she employ to lure you here?”

“She penned a note from you begging my immediate presence.” As the sleeve fell away I grimaced at the dark marks mottling my forearm. By morning I'd be a walking bruise, but I no longer saw the wound from the broken tooth. “On your stationery, no less.”

“Likely she stole it out of my writing desk. Hartley left her alone the last time she called.” She gently blotted away the blood. “You knew the message was a forgery and still you came. Why?”

“I thought you might be in danger.” I took in a hissing breath as she applied the salve. “Your reputation is, certainly. She tried to question me as to the reasons behind your lack of mourning.”

“Infernal woman.” She turned my arm from side to side before taking hold of my hand and carefully prodding my wrist. “I cannot feel any fractures, but you will need to keep it bound and in a sling until the swelling abates.” She saw how I was looking at her. “My father was a country physick before his uncle died without issue and he inherited the title and the estate. Terrance liked to remind me of that whenever we quarreled.”

I wondered what else he'd thrown in her face. “He must have forgotten that marrying you saved him and his title from ruin. Is Lady Raynard a particular friend of yours?”

“Not by even the greatest stretch of the imagination,” she said as she began to wrap my wrist. “Caroline and I came out in the same season, and she instantly lost
her heart to Raynard. She also behaved quite foolishly attempting to attract his attention. He would have none of her, and instead offered for me.”