The Girl in the Steel Corset

But it was too late. The automaton already had her by the throat.

Time seemed to slow. His vision altered, seeing the people and surroundings through the veil of the Aether, auras blazing. Finley’s dual aura flared dark—the color of her other self. Dandy tried to fight the automaton. Jasper had a pistol in hand as he fell into step beside Griffin. The cowboy wouldn’t shoot unless he had to, though—too much margin for error. Someone could get hurt—or worse.

And then Finley seized the spindly metal arm attached to her throat. A normal human would have no hope against such strength, but Finley was not normal. She snapped the arm at the elbow joint and then ripped the offending hand from her neck.

Holding the arm by the hand and wrist, she used it to beat the automaton, driving it savagely into the control panel as people screamed and rushed around her. They were scared gazelles, running for an exit, terrified they would be the machine’s next victim. Meanwhile Finley beat the thing to death, for lack of a better term, with its own arm. It tried to fend her off, but it wasn’t built to sustain damage, only to serve. She snapped off the other arm in a similar fashion and drove both of them into the metal’s “neck,” severing connections, snapping gears.

Griffin and Jasper stopped a few feet away, finally free of the crowd. They could have rushed in, but there was nothing for them to do. Sparks flew from the automaton’s wrecked neck, raining around Finley’s smiling face like little fireworks.

Her darker self had fully taken over.

Those who hadn’t fled in panic had watched the entire altercation, and now they drew closer, closing in like curious cats, eager for a peek at the girl who had just destroyed a machine literally with her bare hands.

The bodice of Finley’s costume was torn, revealing what appeared to be a metal corset beneath. Griffin heard people whispering about it—whispering about her. And Finley looked as though she was ready to take a piece out of the hide of anyone who dared approach. He had to get her out of there. It was a big risk for his own reputation and secrecy, but he couldn’t leave her there to hurt someone, or to let someone else hurt her.

He moved forward, reaching out to stop Dandy as he tried to touch her. “Don’t. Not unless you want to lose that hand, Dandy.”

Smart fellow that he was, Dandy froze, dark eyes watchful behind his devil mask. Griffin approached Finley like he might a scared animal. “Finley?”

She looked up at the sound of her name. “Rich boy. And Mr. Dandy, as well. Aren’t I a lucky girl?”

“Let’s get you out of here,” Griffin said, trying to hold her gaze and work his Aetheric magic at the same time. If he could control her aura, he might be able to subdue her, but then everyone would see that he had done something to her, even if they didn’t know what it was.

Fortunately for him, she seemed to like the idea. “All right. Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere you want,” he lied. “We’ll take my carriage.”

She tossed her head, straightened her spine, calling attention to the rips in her bodice and the metal beneath, so close to her skin. “No velocycle tonight, Your Grace?”

He smiled. “Not tonight, no.”

She stared at the hand he offered for a second before putting her own in it. Her fingers trembled as their gazes locked once more. This time he exerted his power toward her aura.

Finley blinked. “Griffin?”

“That’s my girl,” he murmured in a low tone, so no one but her could hear. Then, as the crowd drew too close, he swept her away, Jasper on their heels. Dandy didn’t follow, but Griffin heard him deal with the curious costumed onlookers who tried to give chase.

Moments later Griffin had Finley in the carriage, and Jasper sat on the seat across from them.

“What’s the matter with her?” he asked Griffin.

Griffin shook his head. “Nothing. She’s just two personas struggling for dominance in one body.”

The cowboy’s eyebrows shot up, but his expression was sympathetic. “Poor little thing.”

“Griffin?” came a small voice. He turned toward her. Finley peered at him, eyes huge in her pale face. “I don’t want to be like this any longer,” she murmured as she sagged against the padded seat. “I hate not being able to control myself. Please. Help me.”

Griffin squeezed her hand. “I will. You have my word.”

A slight smile curved her lips. “Thank you. I knew I could trust you.”

He watched her as she fell asleep, exhausted by her ordeal. He hoped he could hold on to her trust. He hoped he could help her, because the thought of what she might become if he could not was simply too horrifying to entertain.

Chapter 12

The headline in the morning’s paper read: Automaton’s Reign of Terror Brought to Efficient End by Mysterious Girl in a Steel Corset!

And then in smaller print: Duke of Greythorne Whisks Extraordinary Damsel Out of Arms of Notorious Dandy.

Finley was a topic of conversation all across London. Who was this strange girl everyone wanted to know?

The man known as The Machinist was not impressed. Now Griffin King had another one of his lovelies. It would be only a matter of time before the young duke and his intelligent Miss O’Brien would suss out the truth.

It was time to press forward with his plan. Soon, Britain and the entire world would see what he wanted them to. Would see him.

And not even the magnificent Griffin King and his motley bunch of extraordinary strays would be able to stop him.

Finley didn’t know what was in the potion Griffin gave her to drink, but whatever it was, it was wonderful. She felt as though she was floating on a bed of clouds, warm and safe in a summer sky, only without the sun in her eyes.

He said it was to help with the integration of the two sides of personality, but she didn’t feel anything like she normally did when her darker self came out. She felt good, relaxed. Peaceful.

“You have lovely eyes,” she told Griff with a grin. “All four of them.”

She heard him laugh, as though from the other end of a long tunnel. “Thank you. Just lie back a bit. There you go.”

“You’re not going to take advantage of me, are you?” The cushions felt so nice behind her head. It was so nice to lie down. “Novels are always warning young women of the dangers of being taken advantage of by wealthy young men.”

“You are perfectly safe. Emily is here to protect your virtue.”

“That’s too bad.” Finley thought she heard Emily chuckle, but it was so far away she couldn’t be certain.

“Are you comfortable, Finley?” Griffin asked. He was smiling, she could hear it.

She tried to nod but her head wouldn’t move. “Indeed, I am.”

After that things became a little fuzzy. She was dimly aware of that dark part of her raising its groggy head, but she hadn’t the strength to fight it. Oddly enough, it didn’t seem to have much strength, either. Griffin was asking questions, which she answered, but for the life of her she had no idea what she said. She wished she wasn’t so sleepy so she could pay better attention.

She drifted off, and when she woke up she discovered that a little over two hours had gone by since she first drank Griffin’s concoction. She was still on the sofa in the library, and Griffin stood not far away, placing what looked like an engraved brass tube into a cardboard storage carton.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“There you are,” he said, turning to glance at her with a smile. “I thought you might sleep through luncheon.