Twincy Quinn and the Eye of Horus Part One (2 page)

For all the
gifts that man had bestowed upon me, I now fought him with
unwavering determination and a powerful urge to overcome him for
good.

Taking a step
forward, I straightened up, lengthening my neck, tugging my shawl,
and striding into the shadow of a tree.

Hardly
breathing, I locked my eyes on the house.

There were no
longer any lights within.

No one was
screaming. There were no sounds at all. As I angled my head
forward, pretending to play with a lock of my hair peeping through
my shawl, I was certain I could hear nothing coming from the
house.

Perhaps the parents were not there. Perhaps the governess was
no longer home or far more horribly, perhaps the
suitables
had done
something to her.

Or perchance the
suitables
had timed their kidnap to occur when no one was in
the house.

It did not
matter. All that I focused on was interrupting the kidnap and
stopping Esquire from acquiring yet another suitable.

Finally I saw
it. A flash of white and black. Crawling out of the top window.

As night drew
thick around us, you would have had to be standing right underneath
the house to see what I now saw. Or you would have needed to
possess the incredible, augmented abilities that I had.

I took a
single step forward, ensuring my footfall was as light as possible
and the echo did not travel.

Though I did
my best to keep silent, I still saw that black-and-white shape
pause. It was half hanging out of the window, one of its arms
locked over the sill, another one carrying a sack over its
back.

The sack was
moving.

I knew what
was inside.

After
hesitating for a heart-stopping, gut-wrenching few seconds, the
suitable appeared satisfied, and continued to walk its way down the
side of the wall. It used its feet and hands, somehow locking them
into the brick. The brick was not smooth, yet it certainly did not
have holes sturdy enough to climb down, and not with such carefree
elegance.

No, the
suitable would have some kind of device, whether magnetic or
adhesive, it would be using it to clamber up the walls with nothing
but its bare hands and feet.

Doctor Elliot
Esquire was a man of many talents. The devices he created could be
used for incredible feats.

I finally made
my move.

Walking
carefully but casually, I made my way across the street.

Though I was
eager to rush in, fight the suitable, and grab the child back, I
knew I had to be careful. I could not be discovered. A young woman
such as myself fighting on the streets of London, moving with
incredible speed, agility, and strength, would not just turn heads.
I would be hunted. Captured. Possibly hanged, if they could find a
rope sturdy enough to snap my neck.

Plus, I could
not attract attention from Doctor Esquire. He was always after me.
He’d already sent every goon and agent he had to track me down. I
was his prize. His crowning achievement. He would do anything to
reclaim me.

Controlling my
breath, I walked across the street, intending to duck into an
alleyway down the side of the house not too far from the
suitable.

As I walked, I
casually glanced towards that window.

Another
black-and-white shape clambered out of it. It moved in an
animalistic, mechanistic, yet entirely human manner. To watch it
would send a shiver down someone’s spine. It did not affect me
though. Nearly every night I caught a glimpse of one of those
creatures. How Doctor Esquire kept them hidden from the rest of
London, I did not know.

It did not
matter; I had one priority, and I was not going to be
distracted.

I walked a little faster when I realised both
suitables
were now down
on the ground, and keeping close to the shadows. They moved low,
their shoulders hunched forward, their arms dangling in front of
them, their backs bowed and their heads snapping up at strange
angles.

The process of
change did not run smoothly with everyone. Some were more suitable
than others. Those that Doctor Esquire could not change to his
liking, he made into foot soldiers. The black-and-white creatures
before me were such creations.

That,
unfortunately, did not make them weak. The doctor still packed as
many devices and strange machines into their bodies as he could.
Hands that had been replaced with swords, with guns, with whips
that had strange crackling energy moving over them. One of their
eyes certainly would have been pulled out, a spotting scope slotted
in its place, or some other device that enabled them to see over
great distances and to communicate what they witnessed back to the
doctor.

It was indeed
centuries away from the machines that London currently possessed.
Everything the doctor built would not make sense to an ordinary
citizen. The machines, the technology, they were beyond a horse and
cart, beyond sherry in fine lead crystal glasses, beyond coattails
and finishing schools, beyond manners and etiquette.

I took a step
forward.

As I did the
cobble underneath me cracked. It was a slight, muffled sound, as my
boot was still poised over it. Yet if you had been paying
attention, you would have heard it.

Ordinary girls
did not crack cobbles as they walked.

The
suitables
before me, those black-and-white creatures with round backs
and slack faces, were not the only ones that had been
changed.

I stalked
forward. Anger, frustration, and indignation building within, my
arms stiffened by my sides, my hands curling into fists around my
dirty, fingerless, lacy, gloves.

A flick of
wind caught my shawl as I finally crossed to the other side of the
street. It pushed it off my face. A lamp from beyond cast its glow
forward, and my features were illuminated.

I pushed into
a run.

I could hear the
suitables
moving ahead of me, I could also hear the muffled
cries of the child. They had gagged it, or perhaps they had drugged
it; no matter. They would not have her for long.

I no longer
cared about my footfall. It rang out loud and all the louder as I
pushed myself into a faster and faster sprint. Though I was in a
bodice, bloomers, an enormous skirt, and boots with a thick heel,
none of it impeded my movements.

Nothing
did.

My hair
whipped behind me in a fan as I locked a hand onto a lamp, used it
to pivot my body, and sprang forward.

I saw one of the
suitables
turn, twisting over its shoulder. In a flash, I
caught a view of its face. Black and white skin, a mouth that could
never close, drooped lips, an open, permanently drool-covered jaw.
One closed eye, sewn up at the corner with a strange mark painted
around it. The other with a device implanted inside the ocular
socket. It looked like the end of a telescope. Inside I saw a
reflected image of its eye moving around, large, round, and
blinking.

Both
suitables
made noises. Hisses. You could not discern any words, just a
spine-tingling, almost other-worldly mumbling.

‘
Give her back,’ I spoke. Deep and determined, I had always
possessed a thick accent. Though I could not remember my parents, I
knew they had come from mainland Europe, somewhere. Yet another
mystery of my life I would never have time to track
down.

They hissed at
me again. Those perpetually open mouths moving large and wide over
their white and yellow and black teeth.

Though it sent
a shiver down my spine, it was one of recognition, not fear.

I didn't
pause. I ran forward.

The suitable
carrying the child pivoted on its foot, leant even lower towards
the ground, and moved off at a frantic trot.

The other
turned around and pulled something from its side in a large
gesture.

That something
was a sword.

Except it had
not pulled it out, I realised suddenly.

The suitable
had no hand. Just two swirling metal discs of brass, gold, and
iron. With clicks, it had extracted the sword from a slim scabbard,
and now it docked with the device. It twirled around until it
locked in place.

Without a
word, as it was not capable of any, the suitable lunged forward. It
moved fast, faster than any man should. Yet it was debatable
whether the creature had enough humanity remaining in its
machine-riddled body to be called a man.

I darted
backwards, my shawl finally falling from around my shoulders and
neck, and drifting down to the cobbles.

My boots
clicking over the pavement, I launched into a backward somersault.
Landing easily, I pushed myself up and tugged at the side of my
dress.

Though I wore
it to fit in, it was hardly the best costume for combat. With that
tight bodice pressing on your stomach and chest, and its
ridiculously voluminous skirts, it would do one thing: get you
killed.

So I had
redesigned it.

By tugging on
a section just close to the waistline, it opened out, and the
majority of it dropped around me like a jacket.

I was still,
of course, in my underwear. Thick, white, lacy bloomers, woollen
stockings, and boots, you could say I was thoroughly dressed.
Though perhaps not to the usual standards of the women of this
town.

That fact was
irrelevant to me.

The suitable
lunged forward again.

‘
I won't let you take any more back to him,’ I shouted in a
moment of passion as I flipped again, planting my hands on the
cobbles, performing a cartwheel, and forcing it into a backwards
roll.

It was all too
easy to dodge the blows of the suitable. So easy, in fact, that I
had enough attention left over to stare at that mechanical eyepiece
slotted over his right eye.

Though his eye
had been a large yellow and black pupil, in a second it
changed.

Instantly I
recognised it.

Esquire.

Grey and with
droopy, wrinkled skin surrounding it, I almost took a shuddering
step back.

‘
My jewel,’ the suitable suddenly spoke clearly. His voice now
sounded perfectly normal. Though his head was tipped up at a
strange angle, and his back perpetually rounded in an
uncomfortable, hunched position, his voice was
unaffected.

It was also
not his own—evidently.

Esquire. He
had many tricks, many devices, and many ways to spy on the world
around. And that included through his foot soldiers.

‘
I am nobody's jewel,’ I spat back.

And neither
was I going to be distracted. Not by this suitable and not by
Esquire himself.

‘
You must return to us, return to your brothers and sisters,’
Esquire continued. As he spoke, the suitable still lashed at me.
Its head always swivelled to stare my way. Pressing forward, one
arm slashing wildly with the sword as the rest of his body lay
somewhat limp, I managed to tear my gaze away from that
eyepiece.

As I engaged
in combat with this suitable, the other beat a swift retreat.

I'd had enough
of this.

I slammed my
foot into the pavement. Ensuring I was far enough away from the
sword that I would not be slashed while I did so, I brought one leg
up and lodged it deep into the street.

I cracked the
cobbles. They burst up around my boots as if I were doing nothing
more than slapping my feet in a puddle.

The suitable
slashed forward.

I didn't wait.
Hooking one of the broken cobbles up against my boot, I kicked it
as though it were a ball, right into its face.

It was a solid
blow. It also landed true. It impacted right between its eyes, and
the suitable tipped backwards.

I rushed
in.

Ducking to the side in an expert manoeuvre, I locked one leg
alongside the
suitable
’
s
leg,
tucked the back of my knee close to his, and pushed backwards.
Overbalancing him, I twisted to the side, shoved with my shoulder,
and latched onto the wrist that held the sword. Or the device that
held the sword, at least.

I jerked
forward.

Though the
force of the magnetism lodging the long, deadly blade in place was
incredible, I gritted my teeth and fought against it.

My body
strained, my bare shoulders peeping out from my lacy, frilly
undergarment.

The sword fell
from his arm. Without pause I shoved into his shoulder, brought my
fist back, and punched him clean on the jaw.

In a flash I
saw Esquire's eye lock onto mine. Just as the suitable hit the
ground, his eye blinked closed and was replaced with the yellow and
black pupil of the creature before me.

I took a step
back, kicking at the sword next to me with my boot, and hearing it
scuttle over the cobbles and come to a rest far on the other side
of the street.

I took several
more steps back, never tearing my eyes off the scene before me.

It was not dead. It would take far more to destroy a suitable.
Plus, I had no intention of doing so. For the more
suitables
I destroyed,
the more reason Esquire would have to go out and claim other
unfortunate souls to change them. I was not in a fight against
them. I was in a fight against him.

He had taught
me strategy. He had taught me war. He had taught me history. And I
was not going to ignore those lessons. I intended to use them
against him. Clutching a hand distractedly to my arm, I let my
fingers trail down the skin. Smooth and unharmed. Though the fight
had been a vicious one, I was fine.