Lust Plague (Steamwork Chronicles) (20 page)

Her sigh shook her, and he pictured it sinking like a gray cloud to the very bottom of her toes. Heaviness weighed down his stomach.

“Maybe, in some ways, but we are also wrong for each other. I can’t give up what I do. My grandfather honors what I do. I must go back to what I have trained for and striven for my entire life.” She doodled circles on the back of his arm. “We may die tomorrow. But if we come out of this okay, what we did tonight was…fun, but it’s gone. We must go back to our true lives.”

He knew her well enough now to recognize utter determination when he saw it. Could he
make
her follow him? No. Besides, he needed her head in the right place, wanting him, wanting what the two of them created by being together.

Strange how much he longed to both pick her up and care for her, and yet also to frigging
shake
her until her brains rattled and she agreed with him.

“Don’t you feel the bond between us? Something just…” He fumbled for the way to say something so slippery.

“I feel something. Yes. I don’t think I’ll ever be rid of it completely.” She shrugged. “Maybe we can somehow get together, in secret. In small towns, when I get breaks?”

In secret? Hell
. His thighs clenched into hers. He resisted that urge to shake her, again. “You still hate frankenstructs that much?”

“No. I don’t.” She shifted. “I just know what others think. I’m sorry.”

“So what I am is nothing. I’m a frankenstruct, and you aren’t wanting to be seen in public with me?”

Though little bubbles of anger threatened to erupt, he easily quashed them. No matter the provocation, he would remain calm. He’d never let her see that awful part of him. Even if she stabbed him through the heart.

“No! It’s not just that!” She twisted around, stared at him. “Even if I came to you, if we stayed together… You’re a mercenary. I worked all my life to become what I am—an air fleet captain!”

He wouldn’t get angry—sad maybe, but not angry, not with Kaysana. But he put on his darkest look, then said his piece, quietly. “Here’s another fact—you are a lonely woman. And another—I am a lonely man.” Her face froze. “Stay as you are, then. I won’t push you farther. Come to me on your hands and knees and I might think again.”

He shoved himself upright and strode away.
Fuck
. What a night.

It wasn’t until he stood in front of the filing room door that he realized he’d gone down the stairs without seeing a thing. He kicked open the door, splintering the lock from the frame, and barely felt the pain.

Kaysana rolled forward on her knees, bowed her head, pressing it into the pillow on her rolled-out mattress. Why had she lied? Her attraction to Sten wasn’t a compulsion anymore…yet her feelings for him were far greater than she’d let him see. She yearned to go to him and beg forgiveness, to drop to her knees, hug his legs, and kiss him wherever she could reach. But the kernel of truth was there—she couldn’t stay with him. No woman in her situation with any sense, any brains would. Trash her entire career on a whim? No.

Got to pull myself together. Business as usual
. She sniffed. Either she could ignore Sten, get on with life without him, or she couldn’t.
Chin up. Stop being weak.

The nip in the air reminded her of where they planned to go on the morn. Near her mat the doctor’s pile of clothing, suitable for subzero temperature, sat in a neat, furry pile. She may as well sort out her size. Emily had already donned hers and was asleep with Cadrach at her feet.

After tugging on a few sets and discarding some, she had found herself a pair of fur-lined pants, a hooded jacket, boots, and gloves. In daylight it would be the lovely bright white and orange the PME favored for Arctic gear. There was even a little knife sheathed in the boots.

The air twitched in that familiar way—like warm jelly rolling across her. Zombies?

A scuffle and a roar from Cadrach made her whip around. A few yards away, two figures wrestled under the moonlight, a pretty scenario wrought in silver and shadow, as if they merely danced to and fro. Until they swung around. Twin lights of flame churned in the eye sockets of one of them. The doctor was a raised man.

No weapons at hand—they were stacked by the fire. No time for finesse, she ran full tilt.

“No!” Emily wheezed, thumping at where the doctor gripped her throat.

A blur of gray—Cadrach leaped at them. The doctor flung Emily down as a child tosses a toy. She rolled limply. He swept his arm in a vicious arc, cracking into Cadrach in midair. With a yelp, the wolf flew, twisting and skidding across the rooftop, smacking into the stone edge. He lay still. The doctor reached again for Emily.

You forgot me
. Kaysana launched into a leaping kick, leg straight as a spear, foot out and aimed at his back.

At the last second he turned and batted her leg away. She landed and tumbled. Pain burned into her side.
Bounce back up, woman. Emily’s down. The pain is a lie
. She flipped to her feet. Could you punch a zombie into submission? She’d try.
Keep out of range. Don’t grapple. He’s strong.

Again the doctor bent to pick up Emily.

Her kick caromed off the back of his skull and sent him flailing and tottering sideways. Had the furred boots softened the blow? Should’ve,
would’ve
flattened a normal man.

The impossibility of this, of killing a raised man bare-handed, sank in.

She growled. “Leave her! Try me. Try me, you bastard.”
Why now…why had the doctor changed now? Why not before?
She sucked in a lungful and screamed, “Sten!”
Where is he?

“Coming! I’m coming!” His distant reply punctuated the rasp of her breathing and Emily's whimpers.
Oh God, he’s downstairs. Too far.

The doctor pivoted, and the lava flare in his eyes made her misstep. She recovered and faked a kick.
The little knife in my boot
. It’d lengthen her reach. She’d wait for a chance, then grab it. Hands up and ready to strike, she cautiously circled him, waiting, waiting, backing toward the weapons at the fire. Waste enough time and Sten would…

“You…” The deadness in his voice was as riveting as the toss of earth on a coffin lid. “…will suffice.”

With a faint whine and whir of clockwork, faster than she could register or react to, the doctor blurred into motion. Something thudded into the side of her head. Pain splintered through her. Darkness conquered, and she fell, spiraling into the black.

Filing cabinets lined the walls. On a table in the middle, two heavy books awaited him. He knew his name in letters, if not the titles of the books. A folded piece of paper lay atop with
Sten
penciled neatly on it.

Too easy. Now he only needed someone he fucking trusted to read them for him.

A small, square window drew him to the outer wall, where a frigid breeze tussled with the papers tacked to a nearby notice board. Wrought-iron vertical bars curved down over the window. For a long time he stared out through those gray claws of metal at the night and saw nothing except her body in the darkness, and heard only the regular lub-dub of her heart when he’d nestled his head upon her breast.

From far away, along the road they'd traveled, came the distant noise of a revving engine.

“Shite.” Wasn’t working. He couldn’t forget her. Never would. But he’d thought she’d come around to thinking the same of him. “Fool. I’m a fool.”

The engine sound grew. The screech of metal and brakes, though a long way off, made him stand taller as he strained to hear.

“Sten!” Kaysana screamed.

What the hell?
“Coming! I’m coming!” He spun and sprinted toward the stairs, took them so fast he barely touched ground. He burst out the door onto the rooftop.

With the fire low, his night vision was good. By the bedrolls, the doctor faced off against Kaysana—his eyes were pinpoint fires, entryways to hell. He kicked at Kaysana, vicious and fast. She dropped, and he caught her, slung her over his shoulder.

“Nooo!” Feet pounding as he ran, he groped at his left side where his sword should be. Not there. The raised man, slick as a fleeing rat, sprinted away, carrying Kaysana like the corpse of a slain animal.

Had to catch them! Had to! By the time Sten reached where they’d fought, where Emily struggled to her feet, the doctor had gained the parapet. Then he jumped over the side and vanished from view.

Sten slammed into the low stone wall, where they’d gone over, clawing at the outer rock wall to stop himself following them headfirst.

A light thundered and poured toward him at roof level, dipped. Above it, silver zipped around in a circle. The distinct stench of burning boosted coal washed over him.

Someone steered a gyrocopter in for a lunatic landing, its searchlight swiveling through the trees as the craft wove closer, dropping fast. Four stories below were two figures in the gardens—one carried atop the other.

As the gyro hit the ground and bounced, Dr. F. loaded Kaysana, then scrambled in after her.

The craft rose and hovered before him. A dim figure inside swung a tube his way. The twin orange flares in its eye sockets marked a raised man. Sten frowned, heard half-familiar pings and clicks. The sound of a Gatling gun beginning to turn.

“Emily! Duck!”

Sten threw himself down. His arms scraped and slid. Soil puffed up his nose. A barrage of bullets roared over his head, churning up dirt, marching across the opposite parapet in a smoking parade of pulverized stone. A low black silhouette marked where Emily lay. On the far rooftop, the airship hissed and crumpled as bullets hit the envelope. The cacophony ceased.

On his knees, he peeked above the edge in time to see the gyro swerve into the night and zoom away, taking Kaysana with it. His ribs protesting with little spikes of agony, he climbed all the way to his feet.

Where he gripped the stone, the rough edge of the parapet carved tracts of skin from his hands. She was gone. Cold traced his bones, crackled into his heart. Then numbness settled. Determination arrived.

He had a job to do. Rescue his woman. Save the world. All in a day’s fucking work.

Damnohdamn oh fuckin’ damn.

When he turned, he found Cadrach limping up behind him, shaking his head now and then. The clockwork snake, Clavis, slithered across the wolf’s path, then curled up on the bedding. Sten squatted. “You all right, boy? Let me check you.”

He patted Cadrach all over. Relief flooded him—nothing seemed seriously wrong, just bruises, and touching something that was alive and real and not going to kill him…he
so
needed that.

He sighed. “’S okay, boy, we’ll get her back. You and me—”

“And me too.” A dark, glistening line trailed across Emily’s forehead. She hobbled over and stood before him, swaying. The fur clothing made her look older, bigger. Inside though, he knew she’d be hurting.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I’m okay. Just makes me more determined to finish this.” She put a hand on his head, patted him like he had the wolf, then let her arm fall to her side. “She saved me, you know. I heard her taunting him. We’ll get your lady…my captain back. We’ll do it. You, me, and wolfie.”

He nodded, assessing the pint-size dynamo.
Never let a woman see your weaknesses
. He could do this.

“So, Sten, where do we start?”

Cadrach sat on his haunches, and he let his hands slide down the soft fur of the wolf’s head. The urge to crush something, squeeze
hard
until something, anything, was flat and very, very dead, leaked away.

“From the direction the gyro took, it’s heading for Perihelion.” He straightened. “How can we follow, when the airship’s like a piñata at a target range?”

“Yeah.” Emily turned to look. “Man, she’s not good.”

He wriggled his toes in his boots, feeling his toenails scrape on leather while he stared at the airship. Much of the balloon had collapsed. “That's the only way we can get to Perihelion, and the doctor has removed something from the controls. The engine won't start without that missing piece, and the envelope is shot to hell and back.”

How were they to rise above the mountain without an airship? He needed to figure this out damn fast, or it wouldn't be just half the world that’d die, but Kaysana too. And he wasn’t sure which was worth more. Nah. In a pinch, the world would lose out.

“Well, let's have a closer look at the
Emshalley
. I can fix most any damn fucking thing.”

What if I can't fix this, though?
He brushed away the thought.
I can. I will. ’Cause I have to.

“Hope so,” she murmured.

The dismayed look on Emily’s face made him pull her close. “Here, girl, you need a hug as much as I do.”

She snuggled in and put her arms around him. “Thanks, Sten.”

God, I pray she’s okay.

These zombies didn’t toy with their victims. They ate them, killed, raped them, or tortured them and, from what he’d seen, sometimes all at once. The warmth of Emily’s body only reminded him of how Kaysana felt against him. A patch of blood on the roof glistened in the moonlight. Hers.
Jeez
. The wolf pendant lay near the puddle.

The engine noise from earlier started up again, coming closer. The many screeches and clangs of metal made it sound as if someone was tormenting a machine.

“We better see who that is. They need a driving lesson.” He sucked in his cheek. “Run and grab that sniper rifle of yours, Emily. Just to be on the safe side.”

The racket in the room nearly deafened Kaysana, and the throbbing pain in her head didn't help. Icy air swirled around her. Someone rolled her over, tugged her hands behind her back, wrapped something around them. By the time she figured it out, she was bound firm enough to make her hands tingle with pins and needles. Her legs were tucked under her, and the bone-jarring vibrations through the metal floor stirred the fur of her boots against her fingers.

Kaysana managed to open her eyes. Light fluttered around the room.