The Golden Spider (The Elemental Web Chronicles Book 1) (40 page)

T
HOUGH EACH STEP
still sent stabbing pain though his leg, at least its muscles were once again his to command. The blood loss was negligible.

Thornton crept as close as he could get to the rioting crowd without discovery, then stopped and reached into his waistcoat pocket to pull out his watch. He flipped open the cover and slid out the crystal lens within, pushing it against his eye. The crystalline structure, grown carefully under high pressure, allowed a wafer thin lens to act as would a telescope, seeming to draw far images near.

A number of gypsies had managed to breach the iron gates, most only stopped by the very crowd they’d drawn forth. But several gypsy men broke free, running out into the factory yard.

“Nadya!” they called.

It was exactly as he’d feared. Incompetence. Lady Huntley was certain to take advantage of the confusion.

Wait. He squinted. The gypsy men surrounded an old woman who was screaming and pointing at the great chimney. In her hand was a clump of dirt, a root ball from which protruded the
amatiflora
vine.

Nadya
.

Seconds later, guards arrived, slapping the plant from her hand and dragging her and the others back toward the gate.

In the face of overwhelmingly bad odds, Lady Huntley seemed to have released her hostage. That made things both better…‌ and worse. With no one to slow her down, her escape could be swift.

He quickly scanned the crowds, finding no sign of a small, petite blonde woman. She’d have to leave quickly, and now. From the number of gypsy vardos that had crossed the bridge, Thornton suspected the factory site was surrounded. Unless she planned to escape via dirigible, the submersible was her only other choice.

Now was his chance.

Thornton dropped the crystal lens into his pocket beside the watch and reached behind him, catching hold of Amanda’s wrist. Tugging her behind him, they moved back along the line of bushes toward the brick wall of the submersible tank, stepping from their cover only when they had no choice. He pointed at the narrow iron ladder fixed to its side, leading upward to the boarding platform.

Amanda nodded.

As fast as he could manage, Thornton climbed upward, pausing at the top only long enough to ascertain that Lady Huntley was not yet en route in their direction. If she was coming at all. He lowered a hand, helping Amanda to the platform, then pulling her hurriedly to the small submersible station. The door’s lock was broken and swung open on rusty hinges with only the slightest creak.

Inside, the control room showed every sign of abandonment. Spiders had been busy spinning webs and draining prey for months. A rat’s nest constructed from old newspapers, twine and rags and tucked beneath a distant desk looked recently occupied. Water-streaked dust coated the observation window.

Yet the control panel was wiped clean. Hoping to block Lady Huntley’s escape, Thornton pushed at the levers responsible for releasing the first set of underwater doors, those that would allow the submersible to enter the lock. He encountered no resistance; the mechanism was broken. She had opened the doors, then severed the cable connection.

He would have done exactly the same.

Now the only thing standing between the submersible and escape into the Thames was the second set of doors, and those doors were controlled from within the submersible.

Thornton pushed more buttons. Nothing. There were no other options here. The entire control panel had been disabled. He turned his attention instead to the submersible, studying it through the grimy observation window. It seemed in working order, if somewhat poorly maintained. Tied to bollards, it bobbed gently in the holding tank’s water, its top hatch slightly ajar.

To reach it, Lady Huntley would have to pass directly in front of the station’s door.

“Amanda,” he spoke in a low voice, telling her what he’d seen through his lens.

“Nadya, she looked unharmed?”

“Yes. But listen, a woman who has so callously taken the lives of one gypsy after another will not think twice about hurting you to ensure her escape.” Lady Huntley was all too aware of his weakness where Amanda was concerned. She would not hesitate to use that to her advantage.

He wrenched a cast iron lever from the control panel and pressed it into her hand. “When Lady Huntley arrives, stay here. If I must step outside, use this to wedge the door shut behind me.”

Amanda took the lever, but looked unconvinced. How could he persuade her?

“Promise me,” he demanded. “I do not wish to worry about your safety.” He gripped her by the chin and pressed a hard, demanding kiss against her lips. “Please. I need to know you are safe from harm.” He needed to know the woman he loved wouldn’t be in peril while he dealt with a dangerous threat.

“Thornton?” Her upturned face searched his.

Now was not the time or place to declare himself. “I…‌” He tried to turn away. There was a spy to neutralize. All else must wait.

But she reached up and gripped his head, pulling him back to her for another soul-searing kiss. “I need you to stay safe as well,” she said, pressing her forehead against his. “I
also
need to help.”

“Then help me watch.” He tugged her against his side, very much wishing to continue where they’d left off, but not at the cost of missing Lady Huntley. “Any minute now, she should appear.”

Together, they stared fixedly through the filthy window, every muscle tensed in anticipation. Time was passing. Too much. Had he guessed wrong? Was Lady Huntley crazy enough to attempt a dirigible escape?

His eyes lifted to the roof of Airship Sails. Would he stand here helpless while that woman flew away unhindered, carrying years of research with her?

But he saw nothing.

He’d wait three minutes more, then give pursuit.

Two minutes.

One.

Then he saw her.

She mounted the platform, but did not arrive alone. She had Amanda’s sister.

Lady Huntley held Lady Emily’s neck in a tight grip with one hand while pressing a pistol to her stomach with the other. Tears streamed down Emily’s face.

Beside him Amanda smothered a cry of distress. He pushed her down, out of sight. This mission had gone terribly awry.

Lady Huntley boldly marched Amanda’s pregnant sister out onto the submersible’s launch deck. Over Lady Huntley’s shoulder hung a bulging canvas satchel. She now had everything she needed to make a clean escape. Devices, the plant, and a hostage at whom no man in his right mind would fire.

How
had she managed this?

He swore.

Luca.

Emily would have rushed to her husband’s side. Where Lady Huntley lay in wait, unwittingly released to care for the very man who‌—‌Thornton resolved‌—‌would be her last victim.

All neatly orchestrated.

“I see you there, Thornton. Amanda,” Lady Huntley called. “Stay where you are, and I promise to let Emily go. Safe and unharmed. Just as soon as I leave Britain behind. Think of it as a gift, in return for all you’ve given me.”

“Look at me, Amanda,” he whispered, ignoring the taunt. “We’re going to save Emily. Even if it means losing everything else. Understand?”

Amanda nodded, concern and worry in her eyes.

He positioned himself behind the station door, crouching, TTX pistol at the ready. If killing multiple gypsies wasn’t reason enough, the moment Lady Huntley had aimed a weapon at an unborn child, all his scruples about hurting a woman evaporated. He’d like answers and justice, but he’d be lying if he denied entertaining thoughts about firing a third bullet and dropping Lady Huntley dead to the ground.

He’d yet to fire a third bullet at anyone, male or female. As a physician, it was a matter of principle. One he would set aside to save Emily.

But stopping Lady Huntley was going to be harder than he’d like. Gone were the full black skirts, the tightly fitted bodice of cambric. His former laboratory assistant‌—‌once a docile and grieving widow‌—‌was now encased in thick, protective leather. Leather leggings, leather boots, leather gloves, as well as a padded leather coat with a high collar and a hood. Goggles covered her eyes.

Anyone but Thornton would have been hard-pressed to identify her, but they had spent the last year at each other’s sides, working seamlessly together in his laboratory. He knew her height and build, he knew her stride, and he knew the color of her hair. Tendrils of it blew free about her face.

Try as he might, he could recall no indications she worked for a foreign government, yet he couldn’t stop a certain rage that swelled inside his chest. She was responsible for the deaths of many, including his best friend.

Well aware of the technology possessed by the Queen’s agents, she was prepared. All that leather might well hamper the penetration of the bullet, slowing‌—‌even stopping‌—‌the entry of the TTX into her system, but it would not stop him from trying.

Only the pregnant woman she dragged alongside her would. Emily would survive a bullet. The tetrodotoxin levels from one bullet weren’t high enough to kill a woman her size, but a baby…‌ there was no anti-toxin. He couldn’t risk it.

Using Emily as a shield, Lady Huntley advanced slowly and steadily toward the submersible’s hatch. Then Emily tripped, and Thornton grabbed the opportunity, taking swift aim and pulling the trigger. With a hiss, the TTX bullet shot through the air and lodged in Lady Huntley’s thigh.

He ducked back behind the door.

With a howl of frustration, she returned fire. Her bullet missed, slamming into the door beside him with a small explosion. Fragments of scalding metal sprayed into Thornton’s neck, seeming to bite with tiny teeth.

He ignored the stinging sensation even as his heart pounded a warning. One more hit and Lady Huntley would drop. This would all be over. He rotated the barrel locking another cartridge in place, waiting for her to release Emily.

But she didn’t. She swung her arm wide, discharging her weapon. The observation window shattered. Amanda screamed.

Thornton looked. He had to. Amanda clutched her shoulder with one hand, her face contorted with pain. Blood blossomed across her sleeve. “Amanda!” he yelled, his hesitation costing him precious seconds.

“Go!” she yelled. “I’m fine. She’s getting away.”

With a slight hitch to her step now, and unable to control the bulk of her hostage, Lady Huntley shoved Emily aside and hurried toward the submersible.

Torn, he turned and lifted his weapon once more. Lady Huntley was moving too fast. He had no choice but to aim for the vast expanse of leather covering her torso. The cartridge struck her upper back, but Lady Huntley kept going. He spun the barrel and fired his last TTX bullet. He missed. With a curse, he charged after her.

Lady Huntley had just reached the submersible’s hatch and was about to step inside when Thornton grabbed her shoulder and shoved her back onto the platform, placing himself in the path of escape.

She raised her weapon and pointed it directly at him. “Let me pass,” she said. “Your weapon holds only three cartridges. Mine possesses six.”

All he could do was delay. Stall in the hope some of the poison passed through the skin into Lady Huntley’s system. “Why?” he asked. “Why such betrayal?”

“I shoot your lady love and that’s what you ask?” Lady Huntley laughed and rolled her shoulders, as if working out a certain stiffness. “Do you feel the back of your neck burning?” she asked. “An interesting chemical coats these bullets. You should attend to it immediately. To Lady Amanda.”

He didn’t look away. “Surrender now, and I will see you treated fairly.”

“Fairly,” she scoffed, her voice taking on a slight German accent. “I know how you view my extracurricular experiments. There will be nothing ‘fair’ about it. But it was necessary. You British, you are too slow to advance your science, wasting time working with rats and other such vermin. Better to be bold, to lose a life or two.” She shrugged. “A culling of society’s undesirables. Everyone wins.”

“It seems even husbands are expendable.” He bit the words out.

A sly grin spread across her face. “Ah, at last you ask what it is you really wish to know. Was John aware he carried the phaoscope?” Her hand twitched. “Was he tricked? Or did his beautiful, young wife seduce him to her cause? Let me pass and I’ll tell you.”

Thornton slowly shook his head.

“No? Not interested?” She lowered the pistol, pointing it at Thornton’s recently repaired leg. “Very well, then. I must be on my way.” She sighed dramatically. “It seems such a shame; Amanda’s spider has proven stunningly successful.”

Amanda burst from the submersible station, rushing at Lady Huntley with a wild scream, her arm waving the broken iron lever he’d handed her.

“No!” he yelled. What the hell was she thinking!

Lady Huntley knocked aside the iron bar. It spun across the platform, out of reach. She grabbed Amanda by the hair, tugging her head back, pointing the pistol directly into her neck. “That’s enough of that.”

Amanda’s struggles quickly subsided. Though she whimpered, she threw Thornton a triumphant look.

Lady Huntley stepped forward, dragging her newest and most valuable hostage with her. “We’ll be leaving now.”

His eyes scanned the dock, looking for any advantage, when, from the folds of her petticoats, Amanda’s fist emerged holding the very knife he’d given her to cut the brambles. Her technique was terrible, but the knife was sharp and her aim was true. The blade pierced the leather of Lady Huntley’s leggings, cutting deeply into the musculature of the thigh. If Amanda hadn’t punctured the femoral artery, she’d come damned close.

With a primal howl, Lady Huntley shoved Amanda violently away.

Except she wasn’t so easily tossed aside. Amanda had somehow managed to thread her injured arm through the strap that held the canvas satchel over Lady Huntley’s shoulder, and she wasn’t letting go, no matter the pain written on her face.

Nor was Lady Huntley deterred from making her escape. She took aim at Thornton and fired. The bullet tore through his recently repaired leg. Flashes of searing white pain spotted his vision, and he staggered, momentarily off balance.