“Dropped it. At the Church. Really.” He looked over my shoulder at the wall. “I wonder what they’re going to make of that. Interesting.”
“What was the point, Sloane?”
“You didn’t give me a lot of time, Mr. Burn. I only found out you were going to be at that party that morning. Had to do something to keep you out of Angela’s hands, didn’t I? I figured getting you a little paranoid would do the trick.”
“So it was a setup?” I looked at Emily. “They got me up there to capture me. What about the Angel?”
“Yes! What about the Angel. I was hoping you could tell me, Jacob. What do you know about him?”
I laid out a long, tired sigh. “This is how you ask questions? I’m not telling you anything, man. Not anything.”
He smiled at me, a grim, empty smile.
“No, I suppose you’re not. Not at all.” He turned to Emily again. “On the couch, woman. I am patient, but not in that way.”
“Fuck off,” Emily spat from the floor. Sloane raised the pistol and cocked it.
“You get one warning. It’s a pity you use it on such a trivial thing.” He fired into the couch, inches above her head. I yelled and struggled forward. He kicked me in the face, without looking.
Grimacing, Emily dragged herself forward. He held the pistol on her, a little half smile wrinkling his face, until she collapsed next to me on the sofa. Her skin was cold and pale, and sweat beaded her face.
“Enough? This is a good start, but we really don’t have much time. Not the usual leisurely chat, for us. I’m going to start by assuming that you don’t have it with you?”
“What?” I asked.
He reached forward and cracked my face with his pistol. With my arms bound I fell to the ground, smearing blood on the carpet.
“I don’t want to sit through this again.” Arms on my shoulders, he grunted as he lifted and then dropped me onto the couch. Emily was gaping at him. When I looked up he was leaning against the desk, as though he had never moved.
“Jacob…” she whispered. “Fucking… Jacob…”
“That wasn’t my question. I don’t blame the boy, of course. From what I’ve heard you’re a talented girl. But let’s keep to the subject. Is it with you?”
“You mean the Cog?”
“I do.”
“Never heard of it,” I spat, blood dribbling down my chin.
His face didn’t change, but he hunched forward. Emily pressed herself back into the couch. Didn’t make any sense to me. I was the one getting punched, no need for her to flinch like that. Only the spook didn’t punch me, not yet. He set down the gun, then pulled on the thin leather gloves. His hand on my knee was heavy, like lead.
“Jacob. There are things you should know. Secrets. I know this whole thing has been very difficult for you.” He turned his head to look at Emily, then back to me. “Your family, as well. Hard on all of us. I’m not here to make things more difficult. It may get difficult, in the short term, I’ll admit that, but what happens is really up to you. Okay?”
“You’re a psychotic fuck, Sloane. Don’t play with me.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just my nature.” He squeezed my knee like an old grandfather. “But really, I’d like to help. Is there anything I can answer for you? Any questions you might have that might make this whole thing go easier?”
“Say you have me, and you get the Cog. What are you going to do about our winged friend?”
“The Angel?” He smirked. “Things are being lined up for him. Don’t worry. And now, I suppose, it’s my turn.”
He pulled his gloves tighter, then leaned close and ran a finger across my face. His face was screwed up in concentration.
“They did quite a job on you, Jacob Burn. I can feel it, burning out of you. The bruise is already fading. There is a fracture, as well. Here.” He stabbed an iron finger at my cheek. Pain shuddered through my face. The bones ground. I did what I could to not scream, but it was a near thing. “Yes, but not for long. Healing already.”
“What do you know about that?” I gasped as he dropped me back on to the couch. He wrinkled his brow.
“Yes, see. Curiosity. Questions.” He pulled a chair over and sat down, his hands folded casually in his lap. “And then answers. All very simple. So. What do I know about your little talent.”
“Don’t listen, Jacob,” Emily whispered, angry. “He’s just a thug. He’s just making shit up to get you talking.”
“Does it matter? I’ll tell you what I know, and you can believe it or you won’t. Doesn’t matter.” He leaned close to me. “Your heart, Jacob, is a favor done for some very powerful people. A debt that will be repaid, you understand.”
“Let me guess. You’re here to collect.”
Again, that smile. That dead, damn smile.
“It’s not your debt, Jacob. Now. My turn. The Cog isn’t here?”
“Fuck off.”
“I will take vulgarity as a demure negative. But you have it?”
“Fuck. You.”
“Hm. Look, Jacob. We both know that I can keep breaking you, and you can keep unbreaking. And as much as that idea interests me, well.” He tossed his hands up. “Time. It’s all down to the damn time. It’s just not in our favor.”
“Jacob…” Emily said. Her voice was laced with terror.
“But it’s just your body, right? There are ways around that.” He stood up, peeling off the gloves, throwing them on the table. Walking over to the jumble that was apparently Marcus, he rubbed his hands together. “Dear Marcus, for example. I could not… speak to his body, in my usual way. You made sure of that, yes?”
Hauling up the roughly dressed pipes and crude bolts as though they were foil, Sloane held the machine in front of us and flipped it on.
“Marcus?” he asked.
The pipes moaned. The legs struggled to find purchase, like a drunk on ice. Finally, the device stood on its own.
“But we found a way, didn’t we, Marcus?”
“Jacob? He’s here, isn’t he?” the pipes groaned. “Right here. I found him, like you said. Like the deal.”
“Deal is such a broad term, Marcus.” Sloane rattled the machine. “You found him, like we demanded.”
“That’s just a trick, Sloane.” I squirmed until I was sitting up. “There’s nothing of Marcus there.”
“Oh, but there is. Bits of him. The bits that can still be hurt.” Sloane ran a hand gingerly across the manifold, then slapped the lever off. Again, Marcus fell. The noise of the collapse was heavy.
“Like the soul machines in your lovely zepliners. You remember those, Jacob.” He twirled his fingers, like a butterfly in flight. “The spirit in the pipes, away from the body, in the machine. And if the body goes, well, the pipes are still there. And the soul.”
I thought of the captain on the Glory of Day, his metal voice on the Glory.
“Marcus was dead,” I said.
“Yes. Hugely helpful, you killing him. Something about souls, Jacob, and the people who kill them. Like two magnets, brought together.” He patted the collapsed shell of Marcus. “It’s slow, but inevitable.”
“This is how you kept finding us?” Emily asked. “At the lab, and now here?”
Sloane shrugged.
“My point, Jacob, is that I don’t need to hurt your body. And I don’t need to wait until you die to hurt your soul. It’s easier that way, but that’s… simply not on the table.”
“I’m terrified. Really. You should tie some more straps on me, because I might shake apart with the trembling, Sloane.”
“Brave man,” he said, grinning. “And funny. A god damn waste, kicking you out of the Council. Still,” he picked the leather bag up from the floor and set it on the desk. “You’ve served your purpose well.”
“Whatever you do, Sloane, leave her out of it. She doesn’t know anything.”
