She snatched her sword bag from the closet and headed to the hall. “I’ll just grab the katana and I’m ready.”
In the living room, she reached for the weapon that hung on the wall.
“Ah,” Nat said behind her.
“Yeah.” Anouk took the sword down and unsheathed it. She always kept the edge honed.
“May I?” Nat turned his palms up.
“Sure.” Anouk handed the sword hilt first.
Nat examined the katana, testing its balance and the blade. Admiration shone in his eyes. “This is an amazing weapon.”
“Thanks.” Anouk grinned. “Japanese swords are known as some of the best in this world.”
“I bet sword smiths in Anglea would be interested in seeing it.”
Anouk sheathed the katana, slipped it in the black carrying bag and tossed it on her shoulder.
Five minutes later Anouk and Nat walked to the cemetery. They passed the sarcophagus on their way to her mother’s grave. The cover was back on.
“How did you manage to lift the cover back?” Anouk waved her hand to the stone coffin. “I take it Stalo didn’t give you a hand?”
“As a matter of fact, it wasn’t me.”
“Well, someone did.” Anouk rubbed her forehead and sighed. “Maybe the skeletal chap in the box got chilly and lifted it back. It doesn’t matter. It’s back on and that’s important. I don’t want to see headlines screaming: A Grave Vandalised in Hanwell cemetery.”
Nat gave her a curious look, but said nothing.
“My mother’s grave is over here.” Anouk turned onto a path leading to the right. She walked to the grave and kissed the headstone. “Hi Mum. I came to say goodbye. I must go away for a while, but I’ll come back.” She kissed the stone again. “I love you, Mum.” Tears came to her eyes.
“I promise to take care of your daughter, Mrs Herring, and bring her back safely” Nat took off his hat and bowed to the grave.
The gesture warmed Anouk. She wiped the tears away and smiled at Nat. “Okay, let’s get back and find this nefarious friend of yours.”
“He’s not my friend,” Nat growled.
Chapter 4
When the light faded and Anouk opened her eyes, they stood at the edge of the city. The undulating green hills behind them rose in stark contrast to the rows of low grey stone buildings in front of them. The terraced houses huddled together like little birds on a telegraph wire on a cold winter day and appeared just as miserable. Sooty smoke rose from the chimneys and hung above the rooftops like a dark afterthought.
Anouk gaped at a passing carriage. Behind the black box-like cabin was a boiler, firebox and smokestack that belched grey smoke skyward. A driver sat in front, steering the vehicle, a solemn expression on his face. He lifted his cap and bowed his head to Anouk before speeding away.
“Wow… That doesn’t look safe,” she muttered.
Nat hadn’t said what kind of world he was from, not that it had crossed her mind to ask. The whole morning was a big chaotic blur in her mind, seeing steam vehicles passing and airships flying above her head did little to clear her confusion. Her eyes transmitted all they captured into her brain, but its processing system hiccupped. Hysterical laughter bubbled inside her, like champagne, straining against the cork. She took several deep breaths to get her rebelling mind under control and turned her attention to Nat.
Nat stared down at a brass box in his hand. Pointers in the gauges swung side to side in a frantic motion. He turned in a slow circle and pointed the box in different directions while he kept a keen eye on the dial.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a Sniffer,” Nat said, without taking his eyes off it.
Anouk’s eyebrows shot up. “A Sniffer?”
“Yes, a Sniffer. Every convict has two or more tiny tracking devices called The Beacon sewn into their overalls—the most dangerous criminals have one under their skin. The Sniffer smells it, so to speak.”
“Like a hunting dog? That, er, sounds handy.”
“Usually, it is.” Nat frowned. “But I’m not getting a reading. He must have got rid of his, even the one under his skin. On the other hand, the Sniffer isn’t reliable in cities; there are too many distracting elements that confuse the instrument.”
“Do you think he’s still in the city?”
“Sure. He’s got to find a doctor to take that slug out of him.” He tucked the Sniffer back into his pocket. “Looks like we’re doing this the old-fashioned way.”
“Which is?”
“Asking around whether anyone has seen him.” Nat jerked his head towards the city. “Let’s go.”
They started to walk up the street. At close range, the houses turned out to be in an even more miserable condition from how they first looked at a distance. Many lacked a window and more than a few doors were hanging from their hinges or were missing all together. People and vehicles, though, navigated through the lane with the same routine only locals knew—blind to the surroundings and focused on reaching their destination.
A question burned in Anouk’s mind, drawing her eyes from the scene in front of her to Nat’s trench coat pocket. “Is it because of that box you found Stalo when he broke into my house?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t easy.” Nat glanced at her, his expression wary. “Otherwise, I might have been able to stop him.”
Anouk swallowed. The thought of what might have happened if the instrument had been too overwhelmed to ‘smell’ Stalo cause a cold shiver to run down her spine. She would be lying on her floor, her neck broken, or a bullet hole in her head.
She blew out slowly. Yet, she was still alive, and she hadn’t thanked Nat.
“But you did, and I do appreciate it… a lot.”
Nat grunted.
They continued their journey in silence. The traffic grew busier the deeper into the city they walked. They turned onto a main thoroughfare, and Anouk’s jaw dropped. Horse carriages, steam-powered vehicles, bicycles that looked nothing like the sleek-lined race or mountain bikes
