Cold Copper: The Age of Steam (14 page)

He glanced down the road after the carriage, then at the bushes and the building. Nothing. There was not even the smell of the Strange in the air.

“Strange,” he said.

She looked in the direction he was staring. “Is it still there?”

“No.”

“But you did see one?”

“Yes. The same one from last night. It had the same empty eyes.”

Mae scanned the trees again, then turned and walked with him toward the stairs. “Would a bullet have killed it?” she asked quietly. She knew the answer as well as he did.

“No.”

They entered the kitchen, and were wrapped in the warm smell of woodsmoke and pine.

He pulled his hat off and dragged his hand through his hair. “It spoke.”

“The Strange?” Mae said. “We’ve heard them speak before. Mr. Shunt did more than just speak. He walked this world in a body and passed among us like a man. The evils he did…” Her voice trailed off and Cedar knew the horrors of her memories. He’d been there too. He’d watched Mr. Shunt butcher and kill.

He’d almost died tearing Mr. Shunt apart with his bare hands.

“Yes,” Cedar said. “Shunt spoke. But he was the only Strange I’d known to do so. This one outside just said two words: ‘Please help.’”

Mae picked up mugs from the sink and filled them with hot water and a few mint leaves. “The Strange are wicked. They delight in playing on our sympathies.”

Cedar nodded, taking the cup she offered and sitting at the table. Mae had fallen for a Strange that made itself look like a little lost child. So yes, she was correct in thinking the Strange enjoyed that kind of game. But this Strange had seemed sad. Hopeless.

Strange weren’t human. They didn’t have feelings, not human feelings.

Cedar rubbed at his neck again, at the pain there. He still ached from the trail, muscles already tired though the day had barely begun.

On top of that, the beast within him turned, pushing for control. It wanted to hunt and kill the Strange. But Cedar suddenly, for the first time in all his years killing Strange, felt a pang of empathy.

Father Kyne walked into the kitchen. “Are you not well, Mr. Hunt?”

“Well enough,” Cedar said. “Do you know what this is?” Cedar placed the copper piece with the broken kite string on the table.

Kyne took a step back, his hands slightly out to the side as if Cedar had just deposited a snake on his kitchen table.

“Copper,” he breathed. “Cold copper.”

“Cold?”

“It is cursed metal. All who touch it go mad. Then they die.”

Cedar picked it back up.

“Don’t,” Mae said.

“I’m already cursed.” Cedar balanced the triangle in the center of his palm. “And my mind appears to be whole. This looks like kite string or a line a child would use to fish. It fell from the mayor’s coach.”

“People drop things in cities,” Mae said. “Children drop things.”

“It could just be a bit of trash, but when I picked it up, I could tell the Strange had touched it. Tell me about cold copper, Father.”

The minister hesitated, then nodded. He sat at the table, placing his hands loosely in his lap. “There is a mine north of town. Not a coal mine, not a lead mine. It is the place we do not speak of. Not even the men and children who work there speak of it. From that pit into hell, they bring up cold copper.”

“And it’s cursed?” Cedar asked again.

“Damned.”

“How?”

He shook his head. “It steals souls. It is the devil’s work.”

“What is cold copper used for? Trinkets for curses?”

“No. Cold copper is used for the devil’s devices. There is something alive beneath this city. That is what is whispered. Something that feeds on cold copper. But no one knows. Some say there are mines beneath the city. Mines where the devil makes matics that drink down men’s lives and steal the children away.”

“Have you seen them? The mines? The devices?”

He shook his head again. “But I have heard them screaming in the night.”

“The devices?”

“Yes. On the full moon, all doors are locked, all windows shut. No one is on the street except the mayor’s men, who patrol. All through the night, the sounds of screaming pour through the cracks in the ground.”

Cedar was silent. It seemed far-fetched that a demon or devil lived beneath the city. Still, he wouldn’t rule it out. He’d certainly run across enough people in his time who didn’t believe in the Strange, didn’t
believe in witchcraft, didn’t believe in the Pawnee curse he carried. And each of those things was as real as the cold, cold copper in his hand.

“When did the children disappear?” he asked. “Was it during the full moon?”

“No. Not just then. But in the nights, other nights, the children who were tied to their beds were gone. Ropes unknotted, coats and boots left behind.”

“People tie their children to their beds?” Mae asked.

“For months now, though it has done no good. Ever since the star fell.”

“What star?”

“In the autumn night sky a star caught fire. It came from the west and fell to the earth.”

“And that was when the children started disappearing?”

“Yes.”

Cedar closed his hand over the copper bit. He could already feel the rising power of the beast within him. Soon, the moon would offer him its whiskey escape from this body, from this lingering ache, from his reasoning mind. Then all his world would be blood.

“Mr. Hunt?”

Cedar had squeezed his hand so tightly, the copper sliced his palm in three places.

“Is it the curse that drives you?” Father Kyne asked.

“My curse is no concern. Not until nightfall. Mrs. Lindson will make sure I am secured. Until then I will help look for the children.”

Mae raised her eyebrows.

“Or the Holder.”

Father Kyne frowned. “The Holder? Is that what you seek? Is that the task the Madders have bound you to?”

“You know of it?” Cedar asked.

He shook his head. “I’m afraid that I don’t.”

“Better for you that way,” Cedar said.

“In what manner does the curse take you?” Kyne asked.

“Like my brother, I gain the beast’s senses and body. Unlike my brother, I lose the man’s mind.”

“I believe I can help.”

“No, that’s fine,” Mae said. “I think it’s best we take care of this. We have done well enough so far.”

“Not help in…restraining him.” He nodded toward Cedar. “Not help in chaining the beast within him. But in breaking the curse. I believe I can break his curse.”

“G
entlemen, if you’re gonna shoot, better do it now,” Captain Hink bellowed as he strode into the freight car. “You ain’t gonna get a second chance.”

Rose couldn’t make out anything in the dark. But Hink, the fool, walked right down the narrow path between stacks of crates as if there weren’t three armed men in the shadows.

“Stop right there,” one of the gunmen said. “And get the hell off our train.”

“Your train?” Hink bulled across the distance like a man storming the deck of a ship, making enough noise for three. “Unless you can show me where you branded its haunches, I don’t think I’m inclined to believe you own this train.”

Hink drew something out of his pocket with his left hand, scraped his thumb over a section of it, and threw it off to one side.

The entire freight car lit up with a blinding orange flash that just as quickly snuffed out. It was one of the flares airship crews used, and in this dark, enclosed place, it was devastating on vision.

Two voices yelled out. Then, gunfire.

Rose ran into the darkness, her flash-ruined eyes no good to her. She found the crates by feel and ducked behind them.

She didn’t have a gun to draw, didn’t have a flare, and now, she
didn’t even have clear vision. She wasn’t sure Hink was helping rescue Thomas or just getting into a fight for the sake of fighting.

The loud scuffling was followed by that particularly meaty sound of fists hitting bone; then everything went quiet.

Except for the sound of one man’s breathing.

She knew better than to call out. One against three? What were the chances it was Hink who still stood?

“You’re lucky I don’t throw you and that silly hat of yours behind bars,” Hink said.

He was standing? He’d won?

“For what, Mr. Hink?” Thomas said with a grunt, as if he were getting up on his feet. “Last I knew it wasn’t against the law to be roughed up by men of poor reputation.”

“Thomas?” Rose said. “Are you all right?”

She moved out from behind the boxes, her vision still muddy but clearing up quickly.

“Rose? I am fine, just fine. I would have been out of here in a moment or two. I was just waiting for my opportunity.”

Hink snorted. “You weren’t waiting for an opportunity; you were waiting for rescue. And I’m the one who did the rescuing.”

“I understand how you could see it that way,” Thomas said distractedly. “But I was just holding them here until you came and arrested them.”

“Arrest them?” Hink asked. “I would have pinned a medal on them for keeping you out of my way if they hadn’t shot at me. Seemed a favor keeping you out of my sight.”

“But you are a man of law, aren’t you? Captain Hink? Or is it Marshal Hink?”

“What I am, Mr. Wicks, is all out of patience. Get walking.”

Thomas stepped out from the corner of the car and tugged his jacket better into place. Then he dusted his hat and ran his fingers over the brim before placing it on his head.

“Miss Small,” he said with no small amount of delight. “So wonderful of you to return.”

“I couldn’t leave you here with those roughs,” she said.

He gave her a smile and a nod. “I am in debt to your kindness.”

Hink had stayed behind. He grabbed hold of one of the unconscious men and dragged him across the car. “Step aside,” he said as he passed Rose and Thomas. Hink opened the door, walked out with the man, then, a moment later, walked back in empty-handed.

“What did you just do with that man?” Wicks asked.

“Same thing I’m going to do with the next one.” Hink stormed down the car again, and did indeed drag another man with him to the door, then out the door.

“You’re throwing them off the train!” Mr. Wicks said. “They’re unconscious. Bleeding.”

“Don’t worry,” Hink said. “I left them their guns.” Then he strode over to the remaining gunman and slapped him conscious.

“I’ve just tossed both your friends off this train, and I plan to do the same to you. Unless you tell me who you’re working for.”

The man spit in Hink’s face.

“Wrong answer.” Hink grabbed him up by the coat and dragged him to the door.

“Wait,” Wicks said. “I’d like to know why they nearly killed me.”

Hink opened the door. The man in his grip whimpered. “Last chance. Tell me who you’re working for.”

“I’d rather be tossed in the dirt.”

“Happy to oblige.” Hink stepped outside, the door slamming behind him.

“They were trying to kill you over those crates,” Rose said.

“True,” Thomas said. “Unpleasant business, wasn’t it? I think it’s best we find a more comfortable place to finish our ride.” He offered her his arm.

Just then, Hink strode back into the place. He paused long enough to give Thomas’s extended arm a look, then, shaking his head, walked farther into the car, obviously looking for something.

Rose wondered what it was.

“Rose,” Thomas said again. “I’m sure there is a cup of tea and book waiting for us back in the Pullman car.”

Rose stepped away from Thomas. “You go on ahead, Mr. Wicks. I’ll be right there in a tick.”

“I wouldn’t think of it,” he said. “A gentleman always escorts a lady.”

“I don’t need a gentleman,” she said, surprising herself with that sudden truth. Then, a little kinder, “It’s thoughtful of you, but I need a word yet with Mr. Hink. In private.”

Thomas frowned and, for the barest moment, anger swiped across his face.

Rose held very still, startled by his reaction.

He swallowed and drew his bottom lip beneath his teeth once, as if folding words back into his throat. “Of course,” he said with careful casualness. “I’ll wait for you there.”

He walked out the door and closed it behind him.

“Why?” Hink asked from halfway across the car. “Man was offering you tea and comfort.”

“Because you need to see this. And I’m not so sure I’m interested in Wicks’s company.” Rose found the crate with the loose lid, and pulled the lid off. The men must have repacked the crate, setting the copper and broken glass carefully in the straw. She held her breath as a song poured out, copper notes cold across her thoughts speaking of pain, of sorrow, and of power.

Hink strolled up next to her and peered into the box.

“What the hell is that thing?” he asked.

Rose shook her head. “I…I don’t know. The glass is broken now. They called it a battery?”

“For what?”

Neither of them was touching it. Rose knew if she did, she’d lose what was left of her wits to its song.

“I don’t know. This is like the crate Margaret was carrying. With the initials of VB,” Rose said. “That coffin over there has the same initials.”

“Bring a lantern.” Hink walked off into the dark, and Rose checked for a lantern.

There was one on the floor, the one she’d held before, tipped over and leaking. She hoped it had enough oil to hold a flame. She picked it up, and dug in her pocket for a striker.

Careful to lift the glass, Rose struck flint to steel and sparked the oil-drenched wick, catching a yellow flame there.

She and Hink stood next to the coffin. “See there?” Rose said, pointing at the side of it. “VB.”

Hink brandished the pry bar. “I see it. Now let’s see what’s inside.”

He set the bar in between the lid and case and pulled. The coffin lid rocked up, locks breaking. Hink pushed the lid full open.

“Hellfire,” he swore. “Rose, don’t look.”

But it was too late. Rose had already seen the contents.

A body. Not whole like a person, but pieces and bits. One leg, an arm, and a torso. There wasn’t even a head.

“Oh, God,” Rose breathed. “Why?”

Hink turned so the bulk of him blocked her view, but it didn’t do much good. She couldn’t unsee what she’d seen.

“Lot of strange folk in the world,” he said. “Or maybe this was all that was left of him to bury and his family wanted it home.”

“There’s no smell,” Rose said, her mind suddenly working on the puzzle of how to fit what she’d just seen into the here and now of the world. “Death has a stink. Death always has a stink.” She tipped her head up, searching Hink’s face.

He nodded. “There are some solutions that can take care of that,”
he said. “And those bits aren’t all hooked up, so a more thorough cleaning might have been done. Still…”

He turned back around, but was still positioned so she couldn’t see past his width. He reached into the coffin.

“Huh,” he said.

“What?”

“This isn’t living.”

“You just noticed?” Rose asked.

“I mean it wasn’t ever. Living.” He shifted so she could step up to the coffin again.

He lifted the arm up a bit. “Bring the light closer.”

Rose held the lamp inches away from the severed limb.

“Wrist and elbow move like they’re on a hinge.” Hink once again shifted the arm and it gave a slow, dead wave. “And this skin? It’s animal. Fine tanning, but not human. Not soft enough for meat to be underneath it either. Wood, I think. Maybe metal.”

“It’s pieces of a…a puppet?” Rose asked. The twist in her stomach screwed down to dread. It was very lifelike for a puppet and fully the size of a grown man, or pieces of a man, in any case.

Hink frowned. “Heavy for a puppet.”

Rose looked from the arm in his hand, which was topped off with a fully articulating hand on one end and strands of thin, veinlike wires coming out the stump where the shoulder might be.

Those wires reminded her of something. They reminded her of the copper and glass device. “Is there a, um…hole in the chest or back?” she asked.

Hink set the arm back in the coffin and tugged on the shoulder, leaning the torso forward. No blood, no meat in the severed neck, but if Hink hadn’t told her it was leather and metal or wood, Rose would have sworn it was the upper half of a man sawed in two.

“This is the back,” Hink said, nodding toward the part facing them. “Whoever packed it put it in chest down.”

Rose slid right beside Hink, so close she could feel the slight heat radiating from beneath his coat, could once again smell the tobacco on his breath as he exhaled steam into the cold railcar, and could sense the tension in him.

He had some idea of what this thing was meant for.

And then she saw it. Where the heart should be was a hole. Cut clean on every edge and fitted with a copper band along the inner walls about four inches wide.

“Something’s meant to be set in there,” Rose whispered. Then: “Oh. Oh! I think it’s the copper piece. The copper piece was built to hold something in the glass, like water or a solution. To contain, and to…generate power of some kind to run like a matic?”

“You’re saying you think this puppet runs on steam power?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know why it would,” she said. “Do you?”

He held his breath for a moment. “I do. I think I do. Hold this.” He moved just enough that Rose could grab the shoulder and keep the torso propped up.

He headed back to the crate and lifted the broken copper and glass device out of it.

“Cold,” he noted as he carried it over to her. “Even through my gloves.”

“You’re not going to put it in there, are you?” Rose asked.

“Just to see if it fits. Can you prop it up a bit more?”

Rose leaned back and pulled the torso up so that it was balanced on the hips. “Why aren’t all the pieces here?”

Hink shrugged. “Lots of crates. Might be the rest is packed away. Might be this is just a test sort of thing.” He took a moment to glance between the hole in the torso and the device in his hand and then turned the device so that what was left of the shattered glass globe was facing outward.

“Like this, I’d say.” Hink placed the copper and glass device into the torso, then twisted. It fit into place with a
snick
.

Nothing else happened. No lights, no movement, nothing but a disembodied torso with a contraption of copper filling the hole in the chest.

“That’s disappointing,” Hink said.

“What did you think it’d do?” Rose asked.

“It should have…” He glanced at her, then shut his mouth. “I don’t know.”

“Yes,” Rose said. “I think you do.”

“All right, yes. I think I do too. There have been rumors about a new kind of matic being built. A thing that can labor in factories or in the fields. There’s also been rumors of a weapon coming out of Chicago. Could be this is part of it. Or none of it.”

“Do these rumors give it a name?”

“Homunculus.”

Hink twisted the copper piece and it fell out into his hand. “Set that back down,” he said. He slid the copper piece into the inside pocket of his coat, then helped Rose get all the body parts arranged and the lid fit back into place.

“But you think it is part of…part of something dangerous?” she asked. “The copper device? The, um, homunculus? The coffin?”

“Not a good place to talk it over. Best we button this up and get moving.”

Rose helped put the crates in order, then extinguished the lantern. By the time Hink opened the door to the passage between the train cars, Rose’s stomach was in a knot. She didn’t like the idea of Hink keeping that copper device. They didn’t know what it could do, even if it was broken.

They crossed between the railcars in silence, since talking would mean shouting over the wind and rain. By the time they finally reached second class, Rose was soaked, cold, and tired.