The Girl in the Steel Corset

She nodded. “As fast as I can.”

“I know that feelin’. You ever need somethin’, don’t you hesitate to find me.”

Throat tight, Finley agreed. “You, as well, Jasper.” She walked out the front door into the dying daylight. Evening was descending upon the city, but darkness couldn’t come fast enough and end this wretched day.

The stables were open and she helped herself to the same velocycle she’d taken before. She’d have it returned to the house the next day, but for now it was the only thing that could get her out of there as quickly as she wanted to be gone.

Goggles kept the wind out of her eyes, but they were no protection for the tears that threatened. She pushed them and all thoughts aside, focusing only on her destination as she sped through the congested streets. Coach men waved their fists at her as she cut in front of them, and people shouted as she passed, but she ignored them, bent low over the steering bars as she flew through the city.

When she reached her destination, she parked the cycle on the street, disabling the starting mechanism so no one could steal it. Too bad she hadn’t known how to do that the first time, she wouldn’t have had to lift the bloody heavy beast onto a roof.

Then she climbed the stone steps and knocked on the door. It was the only place she could think to come. The only place where she would be accepted and not questioned.

When the door opened, she looked up into the eyes of the person standing in the threshold. “I need someplace to stay,” she said. “Just for a little while.”

Jack Dandy stepped back, opening the door farther so she could step inside. “Hullo, Treasure. I wondered when you’d come.”

Chapter 16

She was gone.

Griffin stood in the doorway of what had been Finley’s room and stared dumbly at the bed that hadn’t been slept in, at the wardrobe emptied of most of its contents. He didn’t fool himself into thinking she’d be back. He knew she’d taken everything she could with her.

He should have known she’d bolt after what happened yesterday. He should have talked to her, but he’d been too preoccupied with Sam and the strange discovery Emily had made while performing surgery.

Sam’s body had instinctively tried to fix itself, and the Organites in his blood had strengthened that ability.

There was so much they could learn from Finley, who had been born with the Organites in her blood. And now she was gone, and he blamed himself. He should have known she’d take responsibility for the fight with Sam, even though his hotheaded friend had been the one to cross the line.

He left the empty room and walked down the corridor. He had to find Finley and bring her back. But where could she have gone. Her mother’s? Griffin stopped dead in his tracks.

Jack Dandy.

He swore—long and loud—and didn’t care who heard him. Of course that’s where she would go. Dandy didn’t make her feel judged. He accepted her as she was—or at least he accepted the darker aspect of her personality.

Finley didn’t belong with a fellow like Jack Dandy, who was as morally ambiguous as a human could be. She belonged here, with him—and the others. But he couldn’t think of a reason why that should be true. Oh, he wanted to help her, and knew that she would be an asset to their team, but what did she get out of the situation? A roof over her head? Someone using her for what she could do rather than appreciating her as she was?

He came to a halt in the corridor, uncertain of what to do next. He had enough money and power to do whatever he wanted but he had no idea how to tell a girl that he wanted her as part of his life, part of his family.

Jasper had come by to tell him he’d put word out with several associates. No word on The Machinist just yet, but according to gossip, the automaton attacks weren’t random. They were planned.

Had the villain targeted Sam and later Finley? Or had the two of them merely gotten in the way of his plans? He didn’t know—couldn’t work it out—and the helplessness made him grind his teeth in frustration. He was not helpless.

He should go check on Sam, who had been carried up to his bed the evening before by four strapping footmen. Emily had taken first watch while Griff tried to sleep, then they switched until a surly Sam told him to get out of his room and stop hovering.

He would have to talk to his friend about what happened. It wasn’t going to be easy. Part of him wanted to do a great deal of violence against Sam for attacking Finley. But as angry as he was, right now he was also profoundly relieved that his friend was alive.

Unfortunately, without something to occupy his thoughts, the journey down to the lab was a long, hellacious one.

He tugged on his cravat. The knot that had been hardly noticeable just a few moments ago now seemed to choke him. He knew it was all in his mind, but it didn’t change the fact that he hated this infernal lift and the darkness that closed in on him like the brick walls on all four sides.

One hundred fifty-nine, one hundred sixty. Just a few more bricks and it would be over. He breathed deep, calling on the Aether and the runes on his body for strength and calm. He despised this cowardly aspect of himself, but he’d hated enclosed spaces ever since his parents’ deaths. He’d dreamed of it—or perhaps it had been a vision—but they’d died in a carriage, trapped like animals. Ever since he took his velocycle when he had to go somewhere, avoiding his steam carriage unless it was necessary, such as the visit to Finley’s mother.

Finally the lift jerked to a stop. Griffin pushed the gate open and pressed the release latch for the door in front of him. He took a deep breath as he stepped into the laboratory.

“You really need to do something about that condition of yours,” Emily’s voice greeted him.

“I know,” he replied. He pushed a hand through his hair as he walked toward her. “Tell me something I don’t, Em.” It was more plea than sarcasm.

“Well,” she began, “I did some tests on the automaton—the one that almost killed Sam.”

Griffin loved how she always worked that almost in there whenever she discussed the attack. The machine had killed Sam. His ruined heart had stopped just before Emily gave him a new one.

“You didn’t start it up again, did you?”

She scowled at him, but with her big eyes and freckles she only succeeded in looking like an annoyed pixie. “Of course not.”

“What did you find?”

“Come see for yourself,” she said, crossing to the workbench where she tended to do most of her mechanical work. Griffin followed after her.

“Like I said last evening, the automaton spoke to me, or rather, it spoke. I’m not sure if it was addressing me or just running something that had been told to it.”

Griffin frowned. “Told to it? Or programmed into it?”

She made a face. “It’s pretty much the same thing, lad, at least in this case. It told me someone messed with its thinking engine—the one where all its commands are stored. Up until now I’d been looking for defects in manufacture or an incorrect input in its operation system. But The Machinist didn’t change the metal’s programming, he enhanced it. The reason I didn’t notice it before this is because I didn’t physically look for it—I simply ran diagnostic tests. Plus, I think the tampering has become more apparent during the months the automaton has been in storage here, in the dark.”

He tilted his head. “You have my attention. Show me what you found.”

Emily gestured to the bench. There sat a small dome about the size of a full-grown man’s skull. It was the metal shell that housed the automaton’s thinking engine. It was small because most of these kind of laboring mechs had two separate engines—one for normal operations, movement, power, etc., and another for specialized commands. This smaller engine could be filled with a number of punch cards which the machine sifted through