“Someone in your house has
Alice, not quite believing her own temerity, blocked the door open with her foot. She could smell the dripping paint. “The doctor marked your door for all to see. Now everyone will avoid you and your house. I can help.”
The woman paused. “Who are you? We have nothing to steal.”
“I am a friend. I can help. Is it your child?”
“I… I am…” The woman licked her lips, then suddenly opened the door wider. “Enter, please.”
The door led into a pair of rooms that were part of a much larger building. The front room had a stove and a few pieces of furniture. Alice assumed the back room was used for sleeping. A single candle provided the only light. On a pallet on the floor huddled a little girl, perhaps nine or ten years old. A thin blanket covered her, and her face was flushed with fever. Her hair was already falling out, and her limbs twitched as if possessed by little demons. A smell of sickness hung in the air. Alice’s heart pounded behind her ribs. For a moment, she was looking at her brother in his sickbed, watching the fever make him quiver. Eventually he convulsed and died. Many victims of the clockwork plague didn’t survive this early stage, and those few who did were often scarred or crippled. Most went on to become zombies. At least the early stage didn’t seem to be contagious, though the victims were often shunned as a matter of course.
“My husband is working, and my other children are asleep in back,” the woman said. “Please do not wake them. My name is Theresa Nilsen. This is Josette.”
“I… would prefer to keep my name to myself,” Alice said, remembering Phipps. “Did the doctor say Josette has the clockwork plague?”
“He did.” The woman’s voice choked. “He would not touch her, and he left. I do not know what to do. She will become a monster and die. My little Josette.”
“She will not.” Alice stripped off her leather glove and laid her gauntleted hand on the girl’s forehead. The spider’s eyes instantly glowed red, confirming the doctor’s diagnosis. “This may be difficult to see, Madame Nilsen, but it is necessary.”
Before Mme. Nilsen could say anything else, Alice slashed Josette’s arm and sprayed a bit of her blood over the wound. The girl whimpered in her fevered dreams.
“What did you do?” Mme. Nilsen demanded. “You hurt her!”
“It is a cure for the clockwork plague,” Alice said softly. “Now that Josette has it, she will spread it whenever she coughs or sneezes, but I should give it to you and your other children anyway. Let me check you. It will not hurt.”
Mme. Nilsen hesitantly held out her arm, and Alice took it. The spider’s eyes glowed red.
“You have the plague,” Alice said, and Mme. Nilsen cried out in alarm. “But you are not showing symptoms yet. Do not worry—I have the cure.” Alice slashed and sprayed. “I should check your children.”
“How—?” Mme. Nilsen began, but Alice was already moving to the back room, where four other children were sleeping piled together on a large pallet of their own. Alice checked, but none of them had the plague.
“They are healthy,” Alice said, and strode back to the front room to check on Josette. Already her fever had lowered. When Alice touched her, the spider’s eyes glowed green, indicating a lack of clockwork contagion. Josette opened her eyes, and Alice backed away to let a tearful Mme. Nilsen take her place.
“Mama,” Josette whispered. “I want water.”
Mme. Nilsen hurried to bring a cup. Josette drank and fell back asleep. The fever flush was gone and her breathing was more even. Mme. Nilsen looked at her for a long moment, then burst into tears. Alice didn’t know how to respond. The emotional display made her uncomfortable, but she was so very glad to have helped. Her heart felt lighter, knowing the child would grow to adulthood.
“There are no thanks,” the woman cried. “I will give you everything I have!”
“Just some water, and something to eat, if you have it,” Alice said, remembering what happened the last time.
Mme. Nilsen gave her water and cheese, and then said hesitantly, “Can you do this to anyone?”
“Yes.” Alice swallowed the last of the water. “Until my strength runs out.”
“You must come. I have a friend who also has a child.”
Alice dusted crumbs from her hands. “Quickly, then, while your children sleep.” She paused. “But I need to do something else first.”
Chapter Four
Feng abandoned Gavin after his second pint. “The angel over there can provide me with far more pleasure than you,” he said, and slid away. A moment later, Feng and his laughing female companion were strolling out the front door, arm in arm. Gavin ignored them and took a pull from his third pint. The ale here was stronger, and it hit Gavin a little harder than he was used to, but that was fine with him. Last spring, he had watched his friends die on the airship
He took another sour gulp of red Luxembourger ale. It swirled like pale blood, though it was only red malt and vinegar that reflected red light from the lamps. The ale was more like wine than beer and would have fetched a pretty penny back home in Boston as an exotic treat, but Gavin was slugging it down like water. It made him feel light, as if he might float away. The other patrons in the bar seemed strangely happy, too. They were all happy, despite the plague around them. A small group sang a cheery tune in one corner, and laughed uproariously at every chorus. The noise floated up, taking Gavin’s pain with it. It was a fine thing to be drunk and happy in Luxembourg. For the moment he felt like he had just escaped Purgatory and was now staring at a set of fine gates made of gold.
Gavin tapped the mug on the table, creating vibrations on the surface of the liquid. Everything slowed, and he
