Angel of Brass (7 page)

“What an unexpected pleasure!” Winifred
exclaimed, embracing Molly despite the grease stains on her coat.
“And...Mr. Malachi, is it?”

“Jin, if you please.”

“Of course, of course. Allow me to introduce
my husband, Gibson.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Gibson said
genially. “Hullo, Molly. What brings you here?”

Gibson was perhaps the blandest man Molly had
ever set eyes on. There was absolutely nothing remarkable about him
at all, from his medium brown hair and hazel eyes, to his average
height and build. Perhaps he was conscious of this, because he
always wore a very large watch fastened to his cravat, which struck
Molly as an extremely odd place to put it. Perhaps he did it so
that others might have a way to distinguish him:
“Oh, look for
the chap with the clock on his cravat. I know, he’s a funny old
bat, isn’t he? Harmless, though; wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

“Can’t my own sister drop in without a
reason?” Winifred asked him. “Don’t mind my husband, Molly. I hope
you’ll both stay for supper. Jin, are you a student at the
institute as well?”

“Uh, no,” Jin said looking suddenly abashed.
“I’m not.”

Winifred gave Molly a knowing wink; clearly,
she thought they were romantically involved. Molly flushed and
didn’t dare look in Jin’s direction.

If only boy trouble was my worst problem
right now.

“It’s a long story,” she told Winifred.
“Maybe you should sit down.”

* * *

Molly talked until her throat was sore, with
Jin supplementing her part of the tale with his own. Both Winifred
and Gibson listened attentively. When Gibson delicately pointed out
that it all sounded rather fantastic, Jin pulled off his gloves to
demonstrate the results of Dr. Malachi’s experiments. The sight
drew a cry of pity from Winifred.

“You poor thing,” she said, taking his hand
in both of hers. “How could anyone be so cruel? Does it pain you
much?”

Jin looked shocked at her words, as if he’d
expected her to flee screaming from the room instead. “Er, no. Not
at all, actually. Not for a long time.”

Gibson stood and went to the sideboard. “I
think a round of brandy might be in order,” he said, pouring the
golden liquid from a crystal decanter into a row of glasses.

Jin’s skin took on a greenish tinge. “Just
tea for me, please.”

Molly suppressed a laugh at his distress,
which earned her a dour glare. “I’m never going to be able to drink
again, thanks to you,” he muttered, which made her laugh again.

Winifred went to the bell pull and summoned a
maidservant, who brought a tea service with such promptness that
Molly knew they’d had the kettle on since guests had arrived.
Dismissing the maid, Winifred poured the tea herself and passed the
cup to Jin. “There’s milk and sugar, if you would like.”

“No, thank you.” He took a sip and smiled at
her. As usual, Molly thought grumpily, Winifred had effortlessly
charmed someone she’d just met.

Once they were settled, Gibson went to stand
near the fire. “This is a very serious situation,” he said. “Have
you told anyone else about it?”

“Just Liam Two-Gears,” Molly replied. “I
needed his help to repair Jin’s foot. But otherwise, no. We came
here because...well, I didn’t know what else to do, and I thought
maybe you could tell someone. The queen, or one of her advisors,
perhaps.”

Gibson nodded and took another sip of his
brandy. His eyes were sharper than she had ever seen them, and his
normally affable face drew into thoughtful lines that lent it an
unexpected character. “You did the right thing. As it happens, I
know the identity of the queen’s spymaster. It’s his job to track
down and stop conspiracies of this sort.”

Molly was impressed. The spymaster’s identity
was a state secret, and she never would have guessed that mediocre,
dull Gibson would have that sort of knowledge.
Hopefully he’s
supposed to have it, and didn’t just stumble over it by accident
while copying someone’s correspondence. He could get in real
trouble, otherwise.

“Thanks, Gibson,” she said. It felt as if a
weight had lifted from her shoulders.
The spymaster will be able
to take care of this right away. I can stop worrying and get back
to my life
.

Jin rose to his feet and gave first Winifred,
then Gibson, an elegant bow. “Lord and Lady Ellington, you have my
deepest thanks.”

Winifred reached out and took his hand. “You
must be so worried about your sister,” she said.

“Yes.” He looked down at his feet. “I
am.”

“In the meantime,” Gibson said, going to his
desk and opening one of the drawers, “allow me to offer you a small
stipend, Jin. I’m sure the spymaster will reimburse me, and I’m
guessing you’d like a change of clothes.”

He pulled out a purse and passed it to Jin,
who took it with a word of thanks. The situation struck Molly as a
bit odd, however.
Who keeps purses lying around in their desk,
just waiting to be handed out?

“Where are you staying?” Gibson asked.

Jin shrugged. “Whatever roof I can find.”

“You can’t do that!” Molly exclaimed,
horrified. “You’ll die of exposure in this weather.”

“Perhaps you could find a spot for him on
your floor,” Winifred suggested.

“An excellent idea,” Gibson said. “I think it
best if you stick together for the moment. Safety in numbers and
all that.”

“I’m not really supposed to have boys in my
room,” Molly said, turning red again. “Mrs. Smythe will tear up my
lease if she finds out.”

“I can sneak in from the roof, perhaps?” Jin
offered. “I don’t want to cause you trouble, though. Maybe I should
just—”

“No,” Molly cut him off. She couldn’t stand
the thought of him sleeping on a roof somewhere, shivering in the
cold, for no better reason than her stupid lease. “We’ll be
careful. But we should probably get going, before it gets any
later.”

“Let us send you in the carriage,” Winifred
urged. “Crowley knows how to drive it, so he can bring you back. It
will be safer than wandering the streets with these smiling men on
the loose.”

“Another excellent idea, my dear,” Gibson
said, putting a fond hand on her shoulder. “Jin, Molly, if you
learn anything further, I urge you to come to me immediately.”

“I will.” Jin started for the door, then
stopped. “Do you...do you think this spymaster will agree to save
Del?”

Gibson nodded solemnly. “I do. He’s a
reasonable man, and it’s clear who is the villain in this
case.”

As they took the back walk to the carriage
drive, Molly said, “See? I told you. We’ll have your sister back in
no time.”

Jin cast her a small smile. “You were right.
I can’t help but worry, though.”

Crowley had already brought the carriage with
its clockwork horse around. “Where to, miss?” he asked.

“The boarding house.”

“Very good.”

Once back on the driver’s seat, Crowley said
“Forward!” in a clear voice.

The carriage shuddered into motion. “I didn’t
realize it responded to spoken commands!” Molly exclaimed, craning
her head out the window. “Fascinating! Do you know how it works,
Crowley?”

Crowley gave her a grin. “Sorry, miss, but
m’lady said I wasn’t to allow you to take it apart.”

“Hmph.” Molly sat back in her seat. “Winifred
never was any fun.”

Jin watched her with a bemused grin. “You
really like machines, don’t you?”

“Technology is just so interesting. I don’t
understand why everyone isn’t fascinated. And I suppose no one
really understands why I am, for the most part.”

“Liam seemed to understand.”

“Yes, well.” Molly shrugged. “I’m not
counting anyone from the institute, since half of them are crazier
than I am.” She hesitated. “I wouldn’t do what Dr. Malachi did,
though. Not for anything. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes.” His smile warmed his black eyes, and
softened the aristocratic lines of his face. “I figured that out on
my own.”

* * *

Jin slipped out of the carriage a few blocks
away from the boarding house. Night had fallen, so he scrambled up
the side of a row house and onto the gabled roof with minimal fear
of discovery. He’d promised Molly that he wouldn’t just take off
again, but a part of him worried just how safe she would really be
if he joined her in the boarding house.

After all she’s done for me, I can’t break my
promise. She doesn’t treat me like a freak or an abomination. She
touches me, talks to me. She acts like I’m a real person.

And if she knew the truth? If she knew that
I’m not real after all?

It brought an ache to his throat. For the
first time in his life, he had a friend, but it was all built on a
series of lies: about his past, about his nature, about the part
Malachi had meant for him to play in the conspiracy. If Molly knew
any of that, she wouldn’t be so eager to be his friend.

Memory gripped him, and he paused, clinging
to the slate roof but not seeing it. Instead, he saw the face of
the trespasser, twisted in fear and hate, his mouth wide in a
scream of fury as he swung a cudgel at Jin’s head.

Malachi had finally made a mistake and hired
someone who had ties to the outside world. When she disappeared,
her cousin had come looking for her.
“But no matter,”
Malachi had said, laughing as he gave the man a cudgel.
“He’ll
make good practice.”

Practice for me.

Jin hadn’t wanted to fight; saints above, he
hadn’t. He wouldn’t have, except that the man had already seen
enough to be half mad with terror, and so attacked Jin the second
he had a weapon in his hand.

The memory of the tug of claws in flesh
filled Jin’s mind, along with the scent of blood. The cudgel had
struck him on the shoulder, but he hadn’t even felt it through the
haze of fear and anger that had gripped him. He’d tried to make it
quick, but the man had turned too fast, and Jin had never done
anything like that before. The shredded mess had made him sick with
horror.

That was the day he’d known he had to escape,
or die trying.

If Molly knew I killed a man with these
hands, would she be willing to touch them again?

Jin closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Don’t think about it now. Focus on what you’re doing, before you
slip and fall to your death like an idiot
.

Jin scuttled over the rooftops, earning
curious looks from a pair of cats. The moon hadn’t yet risen, which
meant that the only illumination came from the streetlights below,
so he had to move slowly. He supposed he ought to be grateful that
Dr. Malachi had given him human eyes, instead of some kind of
night-vision optics.

When he reached the house that Molly had
described to him, he went even more cautiously, watching for long
minutes in case the smiling men were lying in wait. He didn’t see
any, though, so perhaps they’d never been there.
Or Dr. Malachi
has them on another errand
. The thought of what they might be
up to made Jin shudder.

He waited until the light came on in the
uppermost room. Leaping to the roof, he hurried across it. Molly
had already swung the hinged, round window open, and he eeled
easily through the gap and onto a rather cluttered desk. Her eyes
were wide as she watched him, but he thought her expression was one
of admiration rather than disgust. He started to thank her for
letting him stay, but she held a finger to her lips. When he nodded
his understanding, she went to the dresser, which was half-buried
in piles of paper. Shoving a stack of books aside, she uncovered a
wireless and turned it on.

“We now join our hosts, Leander and Warbuck,
with the Aetherwave Drama Hour!” declared a strident male voice
from the small speaker. As a burst of tinny music followed, Molly
turned back to him with a grin.

“Okay, we can talk now, so long as we keep it
quiet.”

“Ah.” Jin still crouched on the desk below
the window, and he gestured vaguely behind him. “I don’t want to
make any more trouble for you. I’d feel terrible if you were thrown
out of the boarding house because of me.”

“And I’m not letting you sleep out in the
weather. Just keep it down, and everything will be all right.”
Molly looked around at the mess of her room. “Um, I ought to
apologize. I wasn’t expecting visitors, and, well...”

“Clear me a place on the floor, and I’ll be
fine,” he said with a smile. “And I don’t mind the clutter. I’m
betting it will tell me a lot about you.”

Her cheeks pinked at that, which he liked, as
it brought out her freckles even more. The room smelled of dust and
paper and oil, but it also smelled of her, which he also liked.

“Your sister was very nice,” he said,
climbing down off the desk. To his surprise, Molly scowled at his
words.

“Winifred
is
nice. And beautiful, and
accomplished, and a dozen other wonderful things,” she said sourly.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she propped her chin in her
hands.

Good one, Jin. Do you think you can wedge
your foot a little farther into your mouth?

“Sorry,” he said cautiously. “I didn’t
realize there was...tension.”

“Oh, there isn’t. Not between Winifred and
me, anyway.” Molly’s shoulders slumped. “It’s just that she’s the
perfect daughter whom everyone adores, and I’m the weirdo who lives
in Chartown and tinkers with engines all day.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Jin moved
a few books out of the desk chair, then positioned it so that it
was closer to the bed. Swinging one leg over, he straddled the
chair backwards and leaned his arms on the backrest. “If not for
people like you, we’d all still be living in caves, hitting each
other with rocks for fun.”

Molly gave him a grateful smile. “I
appreciate that. But you don’t want to listen to me whine. I don’t
really have anything to complain about.”