Seleste deLaney - [Badlands 02] (19 page)

When he dipped his head, she crushed her lips against his. There were no words for how she felt in that moment. It was as if butterflies had sprung into being inside her and fluttered about, trying to lift her off the ground. Every caress of skin, lips and tongues sent her higher. She wanted to lose herself in Carson and forget everything they’d gone through except this one beautiful moment. She could have kissed him forever.

But like all good things, it ended too soon. He drew away and set her back on her feet. His hand pressed against the wound in her side even as her fingers trailed along the scar on his neck. Carson pulled her hand away, kissing her palm gently. “I’d love to kiss you all the way to Philadelphia, but I promised I would explain some things, and I don’t want ghosts standing between us.”

No, she didn’t want that either. The dead needed to be buried once and for all so that the two of them could move toward living again.

Chapter Nineteen

By the time they were skyborne, Henri felt lighter and freer than she had since the night her father had tried to kill them all. She’d even found it in her heart to check on Tobias again. He was as comfortable as she could make him. Though he’d lose some mobility in the hand, her clockworks managed to seal the hole. And the break in his arm would heal. The loss of his eye would be the one wound he’d carry to remember the hell he’d brought on other people.

Stepping into the corridor, she shuddered at the image. This was what her father’s ocular implant should have been used for: victims of violence and tragic accidents. Every time she considered the piece from the crates—in the hold once more and on its way back to the Union—she couldn’t bring herself to contemplate offering it to him. Assuming it even functioned properly.

She leaned on the railing, staring down at the hold. Not much cargo this time, just enough to convince the courts of what Ignazio Lupo was up to. To convince Lupo himself that it was indeed
everything
, she’d added many of her own useless clockworks, those for little more than decoration along with some mangled pieces.

Carson had managed to find a list of names marked with the “enhancements” each man had received. There were many. The man she’d buried in the rockfall, Joe Gambini, had the most, but clearly her father had taught others how to graft the mechanisms with tissue because he couldn’t have performed all the surgeries listed. Too many men who were no longer men. She shivered again, wondering how many of them had been “killed” more than once.

“Patient all bandaged up?” Carson’s voice jolted her from her musings and her hand jerked away from the railing.

“Yes. I’ll have to allow him out of sedation long enough to keep him fed and hydrated, but he’ll survive the flight to the capital.” Now that the danger had passed, she ached for sleep. Her shoulders sagging, she swiped a weary hand over her eyes.

Carson pulled her into a tight embrace. “I’ll deal with him. What you need is rest.”

She snuggled closer, as if they might be able to meld into one person if she tried hard enough. “We both do, but I know I won’t sleep until I have all the things we brought organized and ready to present.” He let out a low groan. “You don’t have to help, but I threw my things in with my father’s and it makes more sense to have them separated. You know how easily the government gets mired in bureaucracy when things don’t make sense. It shouldn’t take more than an hour or two.”

His lips brushed the top of her head. “Is it too forward of me to say that I want to hold you while I sleep?” Henri shook her head against his chest. “Then I’m not lying down until you do. Let’s get done so we can put work behind us for a day or so.”

She gave a tired smile as he waved her toward the ladder. A few days with nothing to do but get to know each other sounded like a little slice of heaven. She climbed down to the hold, her limbs betraying her with their trembling. She was more tired than she’d thought, even seeing phantom shadows moving near Noah’s tools. Two steps later, she froze, alarm bells clanging in her skull.

The delay before she turned to run was a second too long. A man dashed from the darkness and grabbed her before Carson’s feet hit the wooden deck of the cargo hold.

Gambini was dead. Dead! Yet here he stood, dusty and battered, his clothes ripped to shreds. His body bore signs of the rockslide, flesh torn and oozing fluid, not all of it blood. Bits and pieces of his clockwork mechanisms dangled, and she could hear the grinding of gears even over her frantic breathing and thundering heart.

“Doctor.” His jaw moved stiffly, something clearly broken inside. He waved a gun at Carson. “I’m sorry, Marshal, but I wouldn’t advise moving any closer.”

Carson’s fingers twitched near the weapon in his belt, and Gambini’s mechanized grip tightened on Henri’s arm until she whimpered. “Carson...he has Catherine’s gun.”

“The bitch is alive. She caught me as I was coming aboard from the gunboat. I threw her down there and barricaded the door. You’re far more important than one of those abominations from the Badlands.” He stroked her cheek with the gun and Henri struggled to breathe.

“What do you want with me?”

“You’re going to give me your father’s research and the worm in your infirmary, or everyone on this boat will die before we reach Philadelphia.”

“We destroyed the research before we left the mountains, Gambini. There’s nothing for her to give you.” Carson hadn’t moved, but somehow just hearing his voice made him seem closer, as if he was protecting her.

Or the damn crates at her back.

In that case, Henri’s father would have told her to give in, side with the enemy in order to survive another day. One more way she’d have been a disappointment. Like Carson, Henri knew there wouldn’t be another day, not really. And she refused to serve a madman. Besides, she had to trust that Carson cared more for her than his evidence. Had to. She squared her shoulders and didn’t contradict him, praying all the while that he had a plan.

“Somehow, Marshal, I just don’t believe you. Unless I can convince you to change your mind, Doctor, I suppose you’ll just have to learn to replicate your father’s work for Don Lupo. In the meantime, a little payback and motivation might be in line.” He dragged Henri to the very crates containing what he wanted and laid her hand on top.

Carson surged toward them, but Gambini trained his gun on the marshal, making him skid to a stop. “Now, Doctor, if you hold still for my little demonstration, I won’t kill him. If you refuse to cooperate, I’ll put a bullet through his brain and we can test just how good a physician you are.”

Zeke
.

They hadn’t laid the ghosts to rest after all. They haunted her as surely as the living.

Ever
.

Carson
.

No
.
No
more
.

“Fine. Whatever you want.” She held her hand steady, even as he let go. With what seemed exaggerated slowness, he pulled a vial of thick, sparkling fluid from his pocket. “What is that?”

Gambini raised the vial so the light of the gaslamp shone through it, shattering into rainbows on the wood. “Another of your father’s creations. Our friend Tobias managed to provide me with the formula for this little gem. It’s quite brilliant really, but do hold still because this is going to hurt.”

As he unstoppered the vial, Henri’s eyes widened and the first real pang of fear struck her, making her heart race. Her breath came in short gasps as she glanced at Carson, whose expression was so pained she worried he was planning something stupider than her explosion on the mountain.

A drop of liquid fell from the lip of the vial and landed on her skin. The flesh on her hand began to bubble, and Gambini clamped a hand over her mouth to cover her scream. Whatever evil her father had wrought ate at her skin, burning like fire even as it flowed like water. It seemed to grow, feeding on the reaction with her flesh until it would consume her.

“Reach into my pocket and you may pull out a handkerchief to wipe it off now.” Tears streamed down her face as she did what he ordered. The cloth, damp with sweat and who knew what else, cleaned the fluid off and the agony ceased. She sobbed against his hand. “That’s a good girl. Now let’s talk nicely, shall we?”

She nodded and he released his hold on her, apparently trusting her not to fight back or run or scream. As if any of that would do any good. Blood oozed from the raw flesh of her hand, the single drop of solution having eaten away the skin and started on the muscle beneath. What would that entire vial do if he decided to pour it on her? On the crew? On Carson?

Carson was shaking, reaching out. “I’m sorry, Henri, I shouldn’t have lied to him.” His eyes were dark, roiling with a storm of indecision.

“It’s okay. I could have told him too.” Somehow she had to let Carson know that she’d play along with whatever strategy he had in mind. She rolled her lips against each other, choosing her next words with care. “I’d trusted that your plan would make him give up.”

He nodded, her message seeming to get through. “The research is stowed in her cabin. What mechs were worth keeping are in those crates.”

Gambini eyed Carson. “And you think I should let you go up and get the papers since you’re closest to the ladder?”

“No. That would be stupid. I could help Catherine get out. Warn the others.” He didn’t act less worried, but his stance changed slightly. He held himself looser, as if his body was calm even as a battle raged inside it. “Clearly, you’re not stupid.”

“You’re right. We’ll all go up.” He waved toward the ladder with his gun. “Ladies first, and remember I can kill him before you finish yelling for help.”

She nodded as she crossed the hold, wanting to brush her fingers against Carson’s for a hint of comfort, but resisted. She needed to get through this on her own strength. She passed him, wrapped her hands around the rungs and started climbing. A few steps up, she heard Carson yell and Gambini’s gun clatter across the floor toward the shadows. Twisting her head around, she watched as the men’s bodies tumbled to the floor. Carson sprang up, moving away from the gangster. Henri descended a step, planning to go for the fallen weapon.

“No. Go!” Carson yelled, his eyes pleading with her.

She couldn’t stay. He’d end up worrying about her rather than focusing on Gambini. She started clambering up the ladder, wishing she had some clue what his plan entailed.

* * *

Carson would have been happier about the whole situation if he had a plan of any sort beyond getting Henrietta out of the hold. He fired at Gambini, hitting him dead center in the chest, but it barely slowed the man down. Five more bullets left, unless he managed to find the other weapon.

As Gambini rushed him, he dove toward the shadows where he thought he’d seen it. Nothing. He looked up in time to see the gangster barreling down on him. At the last second, he raised his pistol and fired again. Point-blank range and the impact barely shoved the bastard back half a dozen feet. He didn’t even fall down.

Carson scrambled to his feet again. The only advantage he had was speed. Gambini’s injuries and the damage to his metal parts slowed him down. Carson had to buy time and hope like hell Henri managed to come up with something brilliant. Because beyond this game of tag—which was destined to be short lived—he had nothing. And if he didn’t find the other gun soon, he’d be out of ammo.

His foot caught on a raised lip of wood, nearly tripping him. A trapdoor.

He dodged Gambini, racing to the other side of the hold, and wasted another bullet in the man’s forehead. As soon as the gangster got close, Carson dashed to the trapdoor, searching for its mechanism. A reel of rope sat near the wall next to a lever. He sent up a short prayer and pulled.

Chains clanked and air whooshed into the hold as the door slid toward him. If he could just get Gambini near the thing and then shoot him...

A new sound made him turn. And the metal rod hit him in the arm instead of the chest. The angle meant it only sliced off a chunk of flesh, but it gave Gambini the advantage he needed. A heartbeat later, the gangster threw himself on top of Carson, and their bodies slid toward the open hatch.

* * *

The scream lodged itself in Henri’s throat as Carson’s body slipped toward the abyss. There was no time to run for the others. She was the only one who could help him.

Bracing herself, she slid down the ladder as she’d seen Ever do. The metal tore her bandages free and burned against her palms, but she didn’t care. If she failed, that pain would be meaningless compared to what Gambini had in store for her.

As soon as her feet hit the deck, she spun around to find the gangster with his mechanical fingers clenched around Carson’s throat. They rolled away from the open hatch but weren’t anywhere near safe. Carson kept pulling back the trigger on his gun, but the chambers were empty and the hammer clicked on nothing. His face, still contorted with rage, had started to turn purple and fear danced in his eyes.

She had seconds. And she needed more than that.

One of Noah’s crowbars lay on the floor. She grabbed it as she raced forward and swung it as hard as she could. It hit Gambini across the back, the impact making the metal shake so hard that it fell from her fingers. As she bent for it again, the gangster turned his mad gaze upon her and backhanded her.

The blow had so much force behind it, Henri flew across the hold, crashing into the boxes. Papers and ruined clockworks rained down on her. The world grayed at the edges, but she struggled to her knees. She might not have hurt Gambini, but he’d had to release Carson to hit her. Though she couldn’t see, she had to believe he was breathing again.

As she pushed herself up, something bit into the wound on her hand and she gasped. One of her little butterflies, its brass and copper wires crushed from her weight pressing down on it, stuck out of her hand. All around her lay the remains of years’ worth of work—pieces of her life scattered about. A piece of her here, a piece of her there...

And nothing to hold her together.

If Gambini had no flesh, he’d be nothing but parts.

Gritting her teeth against pain and fear, she forced herself up and dumped the boxes onto the deck, searching through the wreckage of her life.
There
. She snatched up the clockwork—still stained with her blood—and, as quickly as she could, pounded the wings of the mangled dragonfly flat. Then she scooped up a handful of the butterflies.

Sending up a silent prayer, she activated the butterflies and pinched the switch on the dragonfly, breathing a sigh of relief when its wings whirred to life.

“Gambini!” The man’s mechanical eye focused on her as Carson’s pleaded with her to run. But there was nowhere left to go. They lived or died based on what happened
now
. “When you planned this party, you forgot one thing. I never attend one alone.”

Flinging the clockworks, she watched as his human eye widened. These weren’t targeted at some wires in the distance. They shot directly at Gambini, buzzing his head. The butterflies were little more than a distraction, but the dragonfly’s wings sliced at what was left of his flesh. As soon as he released Carson to bat at the clockworks, she rushed him.