automatons belowdecks for fear they might get swept overboard or otherwise lost. Click stood on his hind legs and peered over the gunwale, intent on something that interested only him. He popped his phosphorescent eyes alight to see better.
The spider moved cold and heavy against Alice’s skin. Its legs wrapped around her forearm, and its body flattened against the back of her hand, forming a sort of gauntlet that left Alice’s palm bare. It also put little claws at the end of each finger. A quick pain pierced her arm, and Alice yelped. The tubules ran red with her blood. Instantly, Gavin was at her side.
“What have you done?” he barked.
“Don’t strain yourself, darling. Everything is going according to plan. The spider creates a curative serum from her blood. It’s quite harmless, though the spider will never come off. It’s quite fashionable, don’t you think? Much better than a corset.”
“What do you mean it won’t come off?” Alice shook her hand, then pulled at the spider, but it clung like a tiny demon. Gavin pulled at it as well, but to no avail. The spider’s eyes glowed scarlet.
“If you’re finished fiddling,” Edwina said, “we can get on. The spider’s eyes glow red when it touches someone who’s infected with the plague. You’re touching Gavin now. Scratch or poke him with the claws to inject the serum. The lights will then glow green to indicate that it worked. Go ahead-you’ve earned it.”
Gavin silently held out his arm. Alice set her mouth. If this was what it took to cure Gavin, she would do it without complaining. She took a tentative swipe at him, but failed to pierce the skin. Gavin flinched, then held himself more firm.
“Don’t be shy,” Edwina instructed. “You’re saving his life.”
“You endangered it,” Alice retorted, and swiped harder with her new claws. This time she drew blood, four parallel scratches on the inside of Gavin’s forearm. The claws sprayed a bit of bloody serum over the wounds. Gavin winced but held firm.
“That should do it,” Edwina said. “Kemp, let us know when sixty seconds have passed.”
“Yes, miss,” Kemp said.
Edwina arched an eyebrow. “What happened to Madam?”
“Madam is currently occupied with Sir,” Kemp said.
“Ah.” Edwina actually looked flustered and a bit disappointed. “Yes.”
The longest minute of Alice’s life passed. She looked at Gavin, his blue eyes and silver-blond hair lit by the dim light of his new airship. He managed a smile, and suddenly she was glad to be here on this ship, as long as he was here.
When Kemp announced the minute was over, Alice grabbed his hand with her new gauntlet. Everyone looked at it.
The spider’s eyes glowed red.
“Wait a moment,” Edwina said. “Wait.”
Alice held her breath. Everyone watched. Even Click turned his head. But the lights glowed red. A ball of hot lead formed in Alice’s stomach, and Gavin’s face went still as a block of ice.
“I don’t understand it,” Edwina said. “The cure works. I know it works. I tested it extensively. Why. .?” Her expression changed. “Oh! Oh dear. There’s some bad luck.”
Alice rounded on her. “What are you talking about? What do you-?” And then Alice knew. She turned back to Gavin and saw the same realization in his eyes. The strength of it rushed at her with a physical force and drove her to her knees. Gavin went to the deck with her.
“You babbled at the symphony,” Alice said. “About math and the universe. I thought you’d gone mad.”
“I couldn’t stop myself,” he whispered. “I didn’t know why. And the
“Increased physical coordination,” Alice said. “Going for days without sleep. Building an airship that not even Doctor Clef would have considered. It was all there.”
“I’m sorry,” Edwina said again. “I didn’t mean to make you into one of us.”
Alice was crying again. “Cure him! You said you can cure him!”
“I can’t cure people like us.”
“Say it!” Alice grabbed Edwina by the collar and shook her like a rag doll. “Say the damned word!”
Edwina whispered, “I can’t cure a clockworker.”
Alice let her go and ran back to Gavin. The world was swallowing her up, crushing her between stones. Gavin had been infected for a year. He might live another year, if they were lucky. Or he might go mad tomorrow.
“I won’t,” she sobbed, running her hands over Gavin’s face. He took her fingers and kissed them. “I won’t watch it again, Gavin.”
“I won’t die,” he said. “Not yet.”
Edwina stepped forward with the jar. “We need to release the other cure, Alice.
“And how do I do that?” Alice felt drained.
“I have finished incubating it.” Edwina tapped her own chest. “Here. Where no one would look for it, just as I told you.”
She handed the jar to Gavin, who kept his free arm around Alice. “What’s this for?”
“You’ll see in a moment. That’s more warning than Pandora had.”
“I don’t understand. If the cure is inside you, how can it help anyone else?”
“I gave Alice the means to release it, darling.” Edwina glanced meaningfully at the metal gauntlet. “That’s the final stage.”
Alice held up her metal-encased hand. The claws gleamed like knives in the blue light. “No. No, Edwina. I never want to see you again. But I’m not going to-”
“Darling, please! I’m so tired.” Edwina passed a hand over her face. “I’ve been holding the plague at arm’s length longer than anyone else in the world, but I’m starting to lose. I can feel my mind slipping. Please, darling. Destroy England, and save the world.”
“Why must it be both?” Alice cried. “Why is it everything or nothing?”
“I’ll ask God when I see him.” Edwina spread her arms and raised her chin.
Alice, pale and trembling, stood before her aunt and thought of the thousands of children dying of plague below their feet. She thought of her father and mother and brother. She thought of the way Edwina had manipulated her from childhood, of how she had signed Gavin’s death warrant. With a low scream, she raised her left hand. The claws glittered. Edwina held her breath. Alice pulled her hand back-
And dropped it.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “Not even to save the world.”
And then Gavin was behind her. He took her gloved hand in hers and raised it again. “All right?” he said.
Alice bit her lip and nodded. Her gaze met Edwina’s, and Edwina shut her eyes, her arms still spread. Together, Gavin and Alice pulled her hand back, and together they slashed down.
Edwina’s clothing and flesh parted like a ripe strawberry. A dark and terrible gash opened up, and Edwina fell backward onto the deck. She thrashed and convulsed. From the wound poured not blood as Alice expected, but millions of insects. They buzzed upward in a cloud, their tiny bodies blinking phosphorescent green.
“Fireflies,” Gavin said in his hoarse voice.
“The jar!” Dr. Clef shouted.
Gavin reacted. He swept the open jar through the cloud and caught a small section of the cloud inside the glass, then clapped on the lid. They flitted around inside.
Click batted at some of the free-flying ones, then backed away, back arched. Dr. Clef slapped his arm. “Ouch!” he said. “They bite!”
“It’s how they spread the cure,” Alice said. “And each person they bite will spread it to other people when he coughs or sneezes, until the cure goes through the whole world. A disease to cure a plague. It just doesn’t work on clockworkers.”
Gavin held up the jar. “Why did she want us to keep some?”
“So we can take them to Europe and elsewhere, I think,” Alice said. “It’ll spread the cure faster.”
Edwina’s body fell still. It lay, small and shriveled, on the deck. Alice knelt by her as the fireflies descended
