Strong Mystery: Murder, Mystery and Magic Books 1-3 (Steampunk Magica) (5 page)

Owen pulled energy from his
fire
bond-mark until it felt like a coal on his chest. A thread of white hot
fire
lanced out from his cane towards Renton. It splashed harmlessly against an
invisible barrier feet from its target and was snuffed out. Owen ground his
teeth in frustration.

Renton cackled again. “Oh my,”
he exclaimed. “Did I forget to mention the permanent blood wards around this
table?” He waved his knife hand contemptuously.

“Run away, lordling, or die; I care not.  I am running out of
time here.” Renton turned back to the woman strapped on the table. “Now my
pretty, don’t squirm so,” he crooned, “I shall make you a beautiful part of my
creations. You’ll be immortal. But you must stop squirming so!”

A black streak fell from the
ceiling, twin cleaver-like blades flashing. The head rolled off one of the
taller
Animated
, while Jinhao landed feet-first on a smaller one,
crushing it under her. She rolled under the swinging arm of the one she had
just decapitated and came up in a whirling vortex of destruction.

“Aim for the legs,” Owen shouted.
“You can’t kill what isn’t alive!”

There were at least a dozen or
more
Animated
boiling up out of the darkness. Jinhao had apparently
heard him and was focusing on cutting the silently shambling horde off at the
knees, literally.

Gregg swore, readjusting his
aim. Lightning boom-cracked from his gun and another of the
Animated
fell, legs missing. Owen bit back his disgust as
Animated
began to crawl
towards them, undeterred.   

He focused on his
aether
mark, and one of those enigmatic marks he had been gifted with by those who had
no name, trying to combine their energies. To his knowledge, no one had ever
attempted this blending before. If it didn’t kill him, it should be rather
spectacular. 

He collapsed to his knees with
the effort of channeling the energies, his very blood feeling as if it were
boiling, and then with a great cry, slammed his walking stick upright into the
floor. A sheet of purple-tinged energy flew from the jewel in the handle. Half
of the
Animated
it touched dropped like puppets with their strings cut.
Owen had the satisfaction of hearing Renton scream as his “pretties” fell. At
least the madman’s attention was on them now, the girl on the table forgotten.
Renton was pointing frantically at him, screaming for his creatures to kill
him. 

Owen panted, leaning on his
stick. Well, at least he wasn’t dead yet, although he wasn’t sure that was an
improvement. He struggled to rise, every inch of his body crying out in
protest. Two of the creatures were shambling towards him. He could see Jinhao
fighting for her life against half a dozen of the creatures across the room.

The flash-crack of lightning
over his head heralded the arrival of the redoubtable Inspector Gregg. One of
the giant
Animated
approaching Owen crashed over on its side, with one leg
missing. It was followed by the other one as the Inspector’s
aether
gun
spoke again.

“Good advice, that, to aim for
the legs,” the Inspector commented, coming up beside Owen. “How do we kill them
for good?” He fired again, stopping one of the ones he’d just shot from
crawling forward by shooting at its arm. 

“Renton,” Owen gasped. “We have
to kill Renton
—
only way to stop his
Animated
.”
Gregg shifted the gun, firing at the screaming Necromancer only to have his
bolt succumb to the same fate as Owen’s
fire
spear.

“No,” Owen said, struggling to
his feet. “Shoot the other
Animated
first! We can only get through the
wards with a physical attack. ”

Gregg promptly shifted aim
again, and the
Animated
around Jinhao began falling and writhing around
her. With a backflip through the air, she threw a stream of iron darts at
Renton as she landed. The Necromancer jerked, dropping his long thin blade, as
the darts struck home. Suddenly, the tall
Animated
that had been
Renton’s attendant reached forward, pulling Renton off the ground by his hair.

Renton screamed as the
Animated
held him there. The scream was cut off as the creature sliced through his neck
with one blow of a sickle-shaped instrument. The mage lantern went out,
plunging the room into partial darkness
.

Owen watched the tall
Animated
’s
actions towards its master in some confusion. He was sure that Jinhao’s darts
had been Renton’s death blow. Perhaps the creature had broken free of the evil
Magian’s command at the last.

Owen shook himself. No time for
speculation now. The Duchess had still to be rescued. He raised his cane,
pulling on the energy in one of his tattoos. A wisp of light danced on the tip
of the red-metaled stick, providing a wan illumination. Out of the corner of
his eye he thought he saw the shadow that was Jinhao flit off in pursuit of the
Animated
and its grizzly trophy.

“Here, Gregg,” he said, striding
into the now-dead Magian Circle. Together they unbound the weeping girl, Gregg
speaking soft words of reassurance in Mandarin.

Chapter 2

Owen leaned on his walking stick as the Duke of Chu’s
van rattled away, pulled by the giant Golem
. It was fascinating
to Owen that something that big could run so fast.

His Grace could afford to hire one of the Cabbalist Sorcerers
that kept the construction of the artificial beings a tribal secret. It was a
mark of cachet to be able to hire a Cabbalist and, despite their traveling
ways, the Hebrew tribes were very particular who they did business with. No one
would dream of crossing them either; the lessons of Prague three hundred years
earlier were still remembered.

Inspector Gregg stood beside him watching the van wind its way
up the street.

“Duke was grateful,” he finally said in his thick English.

“It was a touching reunion,”
Owen agreed. He looked at the Inspector sideways. “Now what do we do?”

Gregg hacked and spat into the
street and turned to look at the swarm of constables coming in and out of the
building behind them.

“Do?” He repeated the word
sourly. “I get to spend the rest of the night riding herd on this lot.” He
looked at Owen “You? Maybe you should go home. The superintendent should arrive
at any minute.”

Owen smiled thinly.

“And we wouldn’t want to have to
answer too many awkward questions.”

Gregg nodded jerkily.

“Glad you understand.” He
paused, “I have a question. Who was the person in the building who killed
Renton?”

“I thought that one of Renton’s
Animated
went berserk and killed its creator,” Owen said blandly. “After the death of
its creator, all the remaining
Animated
stopped. Doubtless, the berserk
one ran off with the head, before the motive energy of the Necromancer fled its
body.”

That was the story that Owen had
come up with after the fact. It might even be true in part. The suspicion that
Gregg was humoring him proved true with the Inspector’s next words. 

“That’s right.” Gregg nodded. His
craggy face watched the milling officers without expression. “Moves like that,
could almost think it was an Adept. But Adepts are only Chinese, and they do Magia
with their bodies, like what you sort do with your rods.” He sighed. “Very few
Adepts. They are all either Imperial, or they follow rebels against the
Empress.” He turned towards Owen. “I would hate to learn that there is an Adept
in my city to make trouble with the Imperial Court, Milord.”

“I’m sure that need not be a
concern, Inspector,” Owen said smoothly.

Gregg held his eye for a moment,
then nodded again. He held out a bag.

“Memento of the evening. Seems
someone left a handful of bloody iron darts lying around.”

Owen took the bag from Gregg’s
hand.

“Why, Inspector, how very
considerate of you,” he said in a delighted voice. “I shall treasure it always
as a remembrance.” A fine rain began falling from the skies.

“I will remember, too,” the
policeman said solemnly. Gregg hesitated. “What you did tonight, you should get
the credit for it, Milord. It was you who discovered it was a Necromancer, and
who it was.”

Owen turned his face up to let
the rain wash over him.

“No bother, Inspector,” he said.
“I didn’t do it for any credit.”

“Then why did you get involved?”
the inspector demanded. “I know it wasn’t for money, and you had no personal
interest that I can find.”

Owen shrugged.

“It seemed Renton needed
stopping.” He shook his head like a dog, and then lowered his chin, hair a-tumble,
to smile at Gregg. “To be perfectly honest,” he said brightly, “I have no idea
why I did it. But it feels good, doesn’t it?”

Gregg gave a snort of disbelief.
“The saying is true: you English are all mad.”

Owen spread his arms wide,
smiling happily.

“Madness does keep boredom at
bay, so they say.” Suddenly serious, he brought his stick up to his forehead in
a salute. “Good night, Chief Inspector. And thank you.”

Gregg nodded back.

“Thank you, Milord.” He looked
up at the rain. “I could arrange transport if you wish.”

“No,” Owen said cheerfully, “I
believe I shall walk for a bit.” With that he turned and strolled up the
street, swinging his cane, while whistling a bawdy dance hall tune.

Chapter
3

Owen had gone just around the corner when he was
joined by Jinhao, who was once more wearing her night-cloak
.

“Ah.” Owen said, not stopping his saunter. “There you are.” He
held out the bag. “This is yours, I believe.”   

The bag vanished beneath the cloak. Owen held out his arm and
Jinhao placed an arm within his as the pair kept walking.

“You could have taken the carriage,” she said to him. “I would
have made my way back just fine.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “Rain is invigorating. Besides, I wished
to see how you’d gotten on. I assume that you heard everything between Gregg
and myself.”

“Yes, he is much more intelligent than he shows, that one. I
tried to follow that—thing, to end its misery,” Jinhao admitted, “but I lost it
somehow.” Her shoulders moved beneath the cloak. “I am sorry. My Qi was sorely
depleted by then.”

“No worries,” Owen said breezily. “As I said to Gregg, the
thing was probably maddened with pain by Renton’s death wound. There is a bond
between a Necromancer and its creations, you know. It either tried to end
Renton’s suffering, or,” he shrugged his shoulders, “the mind within broke free
of Renton’s control at that moment and sought revenge. Either way, good show on
ending Renton.”

“It was necessary,” Jinhao said calmly. They walked on in
companionable silence for a space. Finally, Jinhao spoke again.

“You did not answer Gregg honestly, Owen. I know why you got
involved in this affair. It is because you are noble, noble like a hero in a
tale.”

Owen shook his head, and laughed, “Well, I do have a patent of
nobility, it says so right there on the paper.”

Jinhao smiled from under her hood.

“Always the light touch with you, is it not my friend? Laugh if
you wish, but I know better.”

Owen stopped swinging his cane, gripping it like a vise.

“Honestly, Jinhao, I truly do not know why I got involved. The
noble-sounding words are just that, noble sounds. I can say, though, that I
felt…alive, I suppose you could say.” He twirled the cane absently as they
walked. “Perhaps I’m simply bored. Deuced if I know. I do know that I am
eternally grateful to you for agreeing to accompany me on this mad hunt.”

“There can be no talk of debt between us, Owen Strong, as you
well know,” she replied calmly.    They came upon a brightly lit intersection
where a single horse cab waited forlornly in the rain for a fare. Owen raised
his cane in a hail, and hooves made a loud clatter as the cab man moved towards
them.

“We’ve talked about that, Jinhao.” Owen said shortly. He
lowered the cane and turned towards her, smiling again.  “But see here. We are
in deadly peril of becoming serious, when we should be celebrating a great
victory over the slimy Necromancer.

“What do you say that we pop around to Mrs. Schmidt’s, and see
if we may engage some company for the evening? I’m sure that there’s food and a
bottle back at the house to go with it.” Mrs. Schmidt’s was the most renowned
pleasure house in Hong Kong. They had each been delighted to discover the other’s
appetites in such things. They had not, for various reasons, consummated such
desires with each other. 

Jinhao laughed, touching his arm.

“Again with the light touch! Alright,” she said, smiling back,
“fighting does leave one…hungry, I admit. Yes, certainly!”

Owen gave the cab man directions. They were both grateful to be
getting out of the rain for a while. As they settled themselves, and the cab clattered
along the streets, Owen suddenly sat bolt upright.

“Damn me,” he gasped.

Jinhao pulled back her hood with a look of concern.

“What is it? Are you injured?”

“No, no,” Owen reached into his vest pocket, pulling out a
flask. “I completely forgot I had this with me. We could have had a drink way
before now.”

Holding it up, he pronounced, “To victory!” He nodded towards
her, speaking in Mandarin, “And to beloved comrades in arms!” He took a large
drink.

She took the flask from him, and held it up with a soft smile.

“As you British say: hear, hear!” She knocked the fierce
spirits back and looked at him.

“Why do you say that, by the way? What sort of agreement is it
to say, ‘listen, listen’? Listen to what?”

“Well,” he replied taking the flask, “It all goes back to the
old days, when they would start royal proclamations with it.”

“Yes, yes,” she said crossly, “I know what a proclamation is.
But
I
am not proclaiming.
You
are.”

“Well—it doesn’t really mean listen,” Owen started.

“You don’t know, do you?” she interrupted him in triumph. “You
English always start a sentence where you don’t know what you are talking about
with ‘well’.”

“Well…” Owen caught himself. “Now see here, that’s hardly
fair!”

The cab rolled on through the puddles and rivulets of
water-soaked streets. The rain continued to drum down on the roof of the cab,
adding to the noise of the carriage wheels and creaky springs.