The Girl In The Clockwork Collar (32 page)

“Did Dalton see them?” Griffin asked.

“He certainly did,” she replied. “I’ve no doubt he wants my head so badly now, he can taste it.”

His smile twisted. “Nice image.”

The three of them rode the lift up to their floor, and after checking on Jasper, Griffin walked Finley back to her room. He kissed her on the forehead before she slipped through the open door. Smiling—more from the kiss than from rubbing Dalton’s face in his failure—she closed the window and locked it, then pulled the drapes closed, as well. Then she climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. There was so much to think about—so much to do and so much that had already been done—that she doubted she’d get any more rest that night.

She was sound asleep within five minutes.

Finley liked dressing up, especially if the gown was also designed to give her freedom to kick arse.

The gown she had found at the shop—so pretty and dark purple—was just that sort of dress. The little puff sleeves did nothing to restrain her arms. The bodice was snug, but she wore a flexible corset beneath so she could bend and move without difficulty. But the skirts were the true masterpiece. Today’s fashions were for lean skirts, which created a lovely silhouette, but were absolute rubbish for kicking or anything else that required lifting one’s leg any more than a thirty degree angle. The skirt on Finley’s gown was constructed of individual pieces and layers of fabric. The result looked very much like the petals of a rose. It was beautiful, and best of all she could kick as high as her head in it—it would reveal a shocking amount of her leg if she did, but the mobility was worth it.

She and Emily had helped each other with their hair and in getting dressed. Emily was beautiful in her golden gown that made her skin look like ivory. Finley had coiled the ropes of her hair on top of her head in an elegant topknot, which showed off the length of her neck. In exchange, Emily had gathered Finley’s hair into a loose cloud high on the back of her head. It looked like the whole of it might fall at any moment, but it was as secure as Westminster Abbey.

Neither of them had much jewelry, just the small gold earrings they’d purchased the day Griffin made them go shopping. But with gowns like these—especially Emily’s—little jewelry was better.

“The lads are going to fall all over themselves when they see us,” Emily predicted, patting her hair.

“They’d better,” Finley added. “It’s taken hours for us to look like this. I would hope they’d appreciate it.”

They were just about to meet the boys in Griffin’s room when Emily hesitated. “What’s wrong?” Finley asked.

“It’s Jasper,” the redhead replied, her pretty face all concern. “His poor heart must be broken, being used like that by a girl he loved.”

“This whole mess is because of her,” Finley added. “I wager she was the one who knew Jas would recover the machine to protect her. The collar was probably her idea, as well. She’s a coldhearted slag.”

“Maybe we could find him someone new in London.” Finley smiled. Emily seemed to have a penchant for matchmaking. Maybe her love of fixing machines made her want to fix people, too. “Or we could let him do that himself— when he’s ready.”

Emily obviously preferred her own suggestion but saw the merit in Finley’s, as well. That was the end of their discussion of the brokenhearted cowboy. They had an event to get to and a villain to stop.

And then they could go home. As fantastic as the city was, Finley couldn’t say that she’d be sorry to leave it. Not after the “adventure” they’d had.

Her friend had been correct in one thing, however, Finley realized as they entered Griffin’s room—the boys did look as though they might fall over at the sight of them.

“Amazing what the right dress can do, isn’t it?” Finley asked with a slightly embarrassed grin.

Griffin offered her his arm. “It’s not the dress—it’s the girl.”

She blushed as she tucked her arm around his. She wasn’t certain how to react when he said such things, because she knew he meant them.

Behind her, she heard Sam tell Emily how pretty she was. She could tell he meant it, too.

“I think we’re all dang pretty,” Jasper commented, sounding more like his former self. “Me especially.”

Finley grinned at him. “Perhaps we can simply dazzle Dalton into surrendering, eh, Jas?”

He stared at her, a surprised light in his green eyes. Finley realized she had started to refer to him by the nickname a few days ago. It was a sign of how quickly she had come to think of him as a dear friend, and he knew it.

Poor thing. She really just wanted to hug him and tell him it would be all right. Bloody hell, now she was starting to think like Emily. Next, she’d probably try bringing nice girls home to meet him.

“Maybe, Miss Finley. Maybe.”

Despite the gravity of their situation, their spirits were fairly high as they climbed into a shared cab that was fortunately large enough for the five of them—Sam took up the space of two people. And why shouldn’t their mood be bright? They knew what they had to do, how to do it and had the confidence that they would each be able to play their roles. Sam was their physical strength and would provide muscle, as would Finley. Emily was in charge of gadgets and anything mechanical. If she was able to get close to Dalton’s machine, she would be able to disarm it with a touch, but if she couldn’t, then Griffin would find its Aetheric signature and do it remotely. And Jasper would do anything that required speed or accuracy. The boy could shoot a marble at a hundred yards while at a dead run—faster than any of the rest of them could ever imagine.

And she … well, she was willing to play a little dirtier than her friends.

They would not let Dalton succeed, and they would certainly not let him escape. Finley was the only one who held the same determination where Mei was concerned. She would not allow the girl to get away after all she’d done to Jasper.

The Museum of Science and Invention was located in a fashionable neighborhood near 2nd Avenue and 11th Street. It was a stately stone building, which looked as though it might have been a wealthy family’s address rather than a place where art and scientific discoveries were displayed.

The area teemed with steam carriages, horses and street cars. Men and women in elegant clothes and glittering jewels streamed into the facility, their conversations a low buzz mingling with the sounds of the street and city.

Finley felt like a princess as she entered the society building on Griffin’s arm. She hadn’t said anything, but he looked absolutely gorgeous in his black-and-white evening clothes. Really, if she was honest with herself, she thought he’d look gorgeous in a burlap sack. Jasper and Sam looked very handsome, as well. It was odd to see Jasper in anything but his hat and casual kit.

The building was just as impressive inside as out. Pale walls showcased beautiful, colorful paintings of all sizes. Glass cases on tables and pedestals held delicate and priceless treasures.

“It’s amazing,” she breathed.

Griffin smiled at her. “We can go to some of these sort of events in London if you like.”

For a moment, Finley’s heart jumped at the idea, but then she remembered that she was not of the same social sphere as Griffin. Here, they could pretend, but back home, everyone would know she was lower-class and shun her. They might shun him, and she didn’t want to be responsible for that.

“Perhaps,” she replied around the fist-size lump in her throat and then glanced away before he could see the truth in her eyes—that they would never attend such an event in London.

Griffin didn’t seem to notice her change in demeanor, for which Finley was thankful. He turned to the rest of their party. “Keep your eyes open for Dalton or any of his gang. Check your communication devices.”

Emily offered each of them the small metal buds to put in their ears that amplified sound and voice. Each was attuned to the frequencies of their individual voices, so while they would pick up some background noise, they would amplify anything they wished to communicate with one another so that it could be heard by the rest, even in different parts of the building.

Each of them said something in a whisper and the others nodded if they heard it. When they were convinced the system was working, they split up: Finley and Griffin, Sam and Emily, and Jasper on his own. Since he would be a primary target for Dalton, the rest would make certain to keep an eye on him, as well.

Then they waited.

They mingled, ate, drank, but all the while, they were constantly on guard, waiting. It was exhausting. Mr. Tesla had recovered enough to join them but seemed uncomfortable with all the attention he garnered. He was so “twitchy” and withdrawn that Finley didn’t know if he’d be any help to them if they needed it—and the machine was his bloody creation.

Finally at half past eleven, Griffin suggested the inventor go home and get some rest. Tesla didn’t argue and quickly made his getaway.

“He’s an odd man,” Finley remarked.

Griffin stared at her as if she had just made a gross understatement. “You have no idea. Come on, let’s look at the ‘realistic’ automaton dog in the corner.”

They spent the next half hour visiting the exhibits, marveling at some, chuckling at others, all the while waiting for Dalton to strike. Finley knew she wasn’t the only one wondering if he had fooled them and actually had a different target in mind. Her anxiety grew with every tick of the clock.

Then at midnight, Dalton appeared. Literally, appeared. One moment, there was a wall with a schematic on it, and the next, Dalton stood in front of that drawing, Mei at his side.

They had walked through the wall.

Finley’s hand tightened on Griffin’s arm. “They’re here,” he murmured so that the others would know. “Far east wall.”

It was so tempting to jump on both of them right then, but Dalton hadn’t done anything wrong just yet, other than sneak in without an invitation. Hardly the sort of thing that warranted police attention. Whip would be waiting outside to swoop in when needed, just as Jasper would now make his way to the roof, where he would be less of a target and where he had set up a rifle earlier that day. From there, he would keep watch over Dalton’s carriage in case the criminal managed to escape the building.

“I’m here.” Jasper’s voice rang in Finley’s ear. She marveled at his speed. Before Griffin announced Dalton’s arrival, Jasper had been in the same room. Now he was in position on the roof.

“We see Dalton” came Emily’s comment. “We’re not far behind you, Griff.”

Finley kept her gaze glued to the criminal. He didn’t seem so pretty to her, now that she knew how evil he really was.

“He’s moving,” she said.

Sure enough, arm in arm, Dalton and Mei made their way through the crowd. They looked like any other influential young couple. They were gorgeous together, Mei’s bright magenta gown a contrast to Dalton’s black-and-white attire. They were heading straight toward the display in the center of the room—a rare diamond on loan from Mrs. Rothschild, which she had been gifted by some European royal. It was as big as a baby’s palm, set in gold filigree. It sparkled under the chandelier, so brightly that at just the right angle it could blind a person. It had been cut using some new process that was apparently a technological marvel—which was why it was on display here rather than in an art museum.

The diamond wouldn’t be the only prize Dalton had his eye on for the evening, but it would be the most prestigious and certainly the most illustrious. For all they knew, he might have already helped himself to other items located within different areas of the building or the vault. This was his primary objective—it made sense that he would save it for last.

Slowly, they closed in on Dalton. He hadn’t noticed them yet, or perhaps he had and just didn’t care. Finley watched in fascination as he pressed a switch located on a wandlike thing in his hand. The glass case holding the diamond shimmered for what might have been a second and then appeared completely normal again. That was when Dalton stuck his hand—the one Finley hadn’t broken—right through it.

It caused a bit of a sensation, as there were other guests to witness his display of criminal bravado. Security approached, as well. Dalton appeared unconcerned, until Griffin said his name.

Dalton’s gaze locked with hers, and that was when his face lost all trace of prettiness. An ugly snarl twisted his features. Would he be brazen enough to try to kill her right then and there?

She and Griffin lunged into action, but they weren’t fast enough. Dalton yanked his hand from the case, diamond clasped in his long, greedy fingers. He took off running, Mei at his heels. Finley and Griffin raced after them, Sam and Emily close behind.

In the corridor, Dalton pointed the wand at the opposite wall, and he and Mei ran through it. It had resolidified when Finley reached it, and she banged her fist against it in frustration.

“Split up,” Griffin commanded. “We can’t let them get away.”

“They won’t” came Jasper’s voice, and Finley thought she heard him pull the hammer back on the rifle. Dalton had better hope they got to him before Jasper did, because Jas was likely to kill the bounder.

She raced down the corridor, rounded a corner and came face-to-face with Mei. That was when she noticed that Mei had one of those wands, as well. Wonderful.

The smaller girl didn’t waste time being surprised. She whipped out her leg and kicked Finley hard in the chest. All the air swooshed out of her lungs, but not before she managed to land a solid punch of her own to Mei’s pretty face. While Finley was bent over, gasping for air, Mei slipped through the wall and was gone.

Cursing and panting, Finley took up the chase once more. She ended up in a storage room on the outside edge of the building. All of the windows were shuttered and reinforced with bars to prevent break-ins, but they wouldn’t be able to stop Dalton. If he made it through the shelf-lined walls he would be free and clear, because there were no doors through which Finley and the others could run.

Sam grabbed hold of Dalton, but the villain pointed the wand at him and slipped out of Sam’s grasp. Sam cried out, clutching his arm to his chest. There was blood on it, even though it appeared to be whole. “It was like he ripped right through me,” he whispered, face white. It must have brought back memories of the automaton attack that had killed him.