The Girl in the Clockwork Collar

last evening ... That wasn’t the sort of thing he should let distract him, either, nor her not-so-cryptic promise that he would trust her eventually. He turned his head, and that’s when he saw it.

Along the ceiling, there drifted a small wisp of churning energy. Its color was a little different than normal Aetheric energy. It had a slightly reddish cast to it, as though it would be hot to the touch. He knew—felt it in his gut—that this particular signature belonged to Tesla’s machine, but he couldn’t remember if he had seen a similar shade around the previous machine he had shut down. Of course, he had been too preoccupied with the shadow- thing that had attacked him.

He wasn’t going to think about that right now, either.

He probably didn’t have to actually hold up his hand, but it gave him direction and focus if he reached out toward the energy he sought to control. He pointed his fingers at the reddish wisp and willed it to come to him.

The energy came easily—it was Aether, after all. He gripped it—an intangible rope that hummed in his hand— and slowly took it as his own, letting the warmth of it seep through his skin, into his bones.

Griffin closed his eyes. It felt good, this surge of power. It was like a hot shower or lying in the sun. It filled him with peace and contentment, as though he was a well that had been allowed to run dry and was now filling with rain.

When he opened his eyes again, he knew that he held the control of Tesla’s machine. He felt its location—in the wardrobe in the bedroom—and concentrated on taking the energy away from it. In a way, his mind was like one of Tesla’s radio controllers, shutting the device down without touching it. He simply cut off the power running to and from it.

It hadn’t been difficult at all, he thought with a smile. As he turned to comment to Tesla, he heard a cry of pain. All of his pleasure at having so easily shut down the machine fled, replaced by horror as he saw the reason for that cry.

Tesla’s spirit had been slashed—ripped—by a black mass that was almost entirely shapeless, except for long black claws.

Griffin’s heart froze in his chest. For a split second, he was unable to do anything as fear rendered him immobile.

He didn’t want to go near that thing. Neither could he allow it to harm Tesla.

“Emily,” he yelled. “Wake him up.”

“What?” She looked up at him, then back at Tesla, just as the inventor’s body began to thrash against the restraints. “Mary and Joseph!” She began working the dials and switches on the suit in an attempt to bring Tesla’s soul back to his body.

It would take more time than the inventor had. Thoughts of his own mortality vanished as Griffin bolted toward the inky mass. God only knew how ridiculous he looked to Emily, tearing across the room to deal with an unseen enemy. A potentially lethal unseen enemy.

Tesla’s spirit was trying to fight the thing off while simultaneously trying to protect itself. Deep slashes marked his chest, arm and face. Much more of this and the older man would die for real.

Griffin put himself between Tesla and the mass. He just had to distract the thing until Emily succeeded in her task.

The first swipe of claws tore through his jacket and waistcoat but not his flesh. The second, he managed to duck and avoid. A low rumbling noise came from deep inside the blackness, as though coming from deep within an old well. Was that ... laughter?

“What the bloody hell?” he demanded, arching back to avoid another swipe. The thing was laughing at him. What was it?

It was something he had to get rid of.

“Go back,” he said to it. “Go back where you belong, or I swear on my father’s grave, I will end you.”

The mass seemed to take umbrage at that and drew itself upward. It stretched at least a foot over the top of Griffin’s head. For a moment, it looked as though it almost had a face, but then it was gone.

It had to be a ghost, but how? Why? That didn’t matter now.

“Go back,” he said again, turning his hands palms up at his sides and extending them ever so slightly to begin calling his own power. He could feel it slowly warming up his veins, tingling in his fingertips. The mass hadn’t corrupted the entire Aether, just the part it occupied.

The thick, oily strands wavered but didn’t flee. Claws reformed, drawing back to deliver another blow. Griffin set his jaw and thrust both hands out, sinking them wrist deep into the entity before releasing the energy he had summoned.

The thing screamed—sounding like a cross between the caw of a crow and a rusted hinge—before blowing apart like kicked sand.

Griffin stood there for a moment, waiting to see if it came back. When it didn’t, he let the Aetheric dimension slip away, leaving nothing but the world of the living around him.

“Is Tesla all right?” he demanded as he turned toward Emily.

“Quite,” the older man replied. He was sitting up now, and had removed his mask and hood. He looked tired and shaky. “Thanks to you, Your Grace.”

Griffin didn’t bother to remind him that he wouldn’t have gone into the Aether were it not for his curiosity about Griffin’s abilities. Still, Tesla was a grown man and knew his own mind.

“You should rest,” Griffin told him. “And perhaps avoid Aether exploration from here on. That’s the second time I’ve encountered that thing, and both times have been here, with you.”

Tesla nodded. “I’ve seen what you see, and that’s enough.” Emily shot Griff a dubious glance at the inventor’s statement but did not voice her doubts. “Do you need assistance with anything, sir?”

“No, no.” The man rose to his feet, wavered slightly and then seemed to find his legs. “Please excuse my poor manners, but I believe I need to lie down. Will you excuse me?”

“Of course,” Griffin answered. “We’ll leave you, but I hope you will indulge us if we check in on you later?”

Tesla nodded and then slowly made his way from the room. Griffin and Emily gathered up their things and left the hotel. He wished he had a greatcoat to put on to cover his ruined jacket, but he did not.

“What happened?” Emily demanded once they were outside. “Did that thing come back?”

Griffin lifted his hand to run it through his hair and stopped. He rubbed the back of his neck instead. “Yes. It seemed bigger this time, and, Em ... I’m fairly certain it was sentient.”

Emily swore softly. “Saints preserve us. You have no idea what it is?”

He shook his head as he hailed a cab. “A malignant spirit, perhaps.”

“A haunting?” She looked at him with huge eyes. She was a bit superstitious about such things.

“Could be.” He turned to her as a cab pulled over for them. “I’ve never seen anything like it, and I hope to never again. Whatever it is, it’s bloody dangerous.”

“Well, I hope Mr. Tesla never encounters it again.” She held up a small mechanical component. “I stole this from his suit.”

“Smart decision,” he said, opening the cab door for her to climb in. “Maybe it will keep him from doing any more Aetheric experiments.” He didn’t tell her his theory—his fear. Tesla wasn’t the entity’s targeted prey. Tesla wasn’t the one who had gotten a threatening letter.

He was.

When Finley asked Emily what had happened to Griffin’s clothing during their visit with Tesla, she got the story in vivid detail—to the point where her throat went dry at the thought of Griffin running into that Aether ... monster again. She still hadn’t recovered from how badly he’d been hurt the last time.

Emily, however, seemed totally oblivious to her distress as she perused the selection of ready-to-wear gowns the little shop they were in had to offer. “The fool was more concerned about his waistcoat than he was about anything else.”

Part of Finley thought perhaps Emily was trying to make her feel better. Another part thought she might be telling the truth, as well. “Well, he and I have done a good job at losing our clothes here in New York.”

Laughing blue eyes locked with hers over the display. “Oh, is that so? Is there something you want to tell me?”