don’t want that life. I want to be with you—and the others.”
A grin spread across his face at her half hearted amendment. He knew what she meant, and he meant it, too. It was all right if neither of them said it aloud. They both talked too much, anyway. Thought too much, too.
So instead of thinking about it, Griffin simply wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers. She tasted like the strawberries they’d had for dessert, and she smelled of fresh air and cinnamon. Her arms came up over his shoulders, around his neck, and she kissed him back.
Tesla might not have invented a machine for going back in time, but Griffin thought he’d just found a way to stop it.
A thousand years later, he lifted his head. Finley stared up at him. He stared back, and after a moment, they both began to smile.
“It’s cold out here,” she said. “We should go in.”
“I suppose we should.”
Then she came up on her toes and kissed him, and all thoughts of going inside and cold noses vanished for a while.
He held her hand when they returned to the inner cabin of the dirigible. Sam and Emily were waiting for them there. Griffin’s heart lightened at the sight of them. They both looked concerned when they met his gaze, and their worry warmed him. They didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. Maybe in time he’d agree with them.
“About time the two of you came back,” Sam commented with his usual charm. He pointed at Emily. “She thinks we should all have some kind of wing contraptions so we can fly on our own.”
Finley glanced at Griffin. “When we first came to New York, you asked me if I would like to know how it felt to really fly.”
“Such devices would be very beneficial,” Emily informed him.
“My arms would get tired,” Sam countered.
“They’re for gliding, Sam. You don’t have to flap. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
The image of Sam flapping wings attached to his arms like a chicken caused Griffin to laugh out loud. The three of them stared at him for a second and soon joined in.
“Get whatever you need, Em.” Griffin wiped his eyes. “The expense will be worth it just to see Sam flap.”
They laughed some more—Sam possibly the hardest.
It was at that moment that he knew everything was going to be fine. If he could still laugh, then all was not lost.
He was going to be all right after all.
One of my favorite parts of writing a book is the research I get to do. My world might vary from the real Victorian era, but I’ve tried to keep many things true to history. For example, the Waldorf-Astoria really was on 5th Avenue. It was torn down early in the twentieth century to build the Empire State Building. Incidentally, it’s rumored that there was to be a dirigible docking bay at the top of the Empire State! Wouldn’t Finley have loved that.
The neighborhood known as Five Points had been cleared away by 1897, but in “my” world it stuck around for a little while longer. I really wanted that rough contrast to the world that Griffin is drawn into. There were a lot of gangs there, as well. A great book for more information on the area is
Nikola Tesla did indeed live in New York City in 1897, and he worked on strange and wonderful inventions in his laboratory in the Gerlach Hotel where Griffin and Emily call upon him. What I find most fascinating about this man, other than his desire to build a death ray to use against America’s enemies, was that he worked on radio waves and wireless transmissions more than a hundred years before Wi-Fi was ever invented! Few people have contributed more to the world of science than Tesla—or to the world of science fiction. There’s no denying he was one of the most brilliant minds of his time, even if he did have to have a certain amount of napkins for every meal —and counted them all!
As usual, this book could not have been written without the following people: Miriam Kriss, who propped me up and cheered me on; Krista Stroever, who has always been amazing to work with and one of the truly special people in my life. Jesse, Sharie and Colleen, who listened every time I called and whined. I love you girls! The Fabulous Dr. Grymm and his lovely Mrs. Grymm, who helped with inventions, helped bring me into the steampunk community and just generally rock as people. And lastly, this book could not have been written without Steve, who helped with research (Tesla, baby!), bragged me up, helped me brainstorm, wore a top hat and tails when I asked, and basically supported my madness.
Also, I’ve been asked what music I listen to while I write. This book was written almost entirely to a sound track of Emilie Autumn, Amanda Palmer and My Chemical Romance.
