The Golden Spider (The Elemental Web Chronicles Book 1) (41 page)

Amanda held on tightly, dragging behind Lady Huntley, refusing to let go of the bag. With the bloody knife still in her fist, she hacked at the strap until the fibers separated and frayed. There was a loud tearing sound and the strap pulled free from the bag. With her arms wrapped about the satchel, she collapsed on the platform.

Lady Huntley had lost all but her freedom. As she careened toward the submersible hatch, flinging herself through the opening, Thornton could only see one option.

He pitched himself through the hatch behind her.

~~~

A shot rang out, making a horrible clanging sound inside the hull of the steel-plated submersible. Amanda shoved aside the satchel, pushing herself to her feet with the one arm that didn’t feel as though it were on fire. She ran toward the hatch, but she was too slow.

An arm reached up‌—‌Lady Huntley’s‌—‌and pulled the hatch door closed.

From the edge of the docking platform, she watched in horror as the propeller began to spin. Valves opened and hissed, and the long cigar-shaped vessel began to submerge in a cloud of bubbles, ripping the bollards from the dock.

She bent over, grabbing the broken iron lever and running toward the dock mechanism that controlled the final set of doors. Once they were open, there would be no stopping Lady Huntley, no rescuing Thornton.

With the one arm that still responded to her commands, she beat on the mechanism. Over and over and over. She heard screams, barely recognizing them as her own. A sudden hiss. A blast of steam from the mechanism. She jumped back. Had it worked?

No.

Gears turned and a winch twisted, yanking upward on the chain that raised the final set of doors. Lady Huntley must have control of the submersible, or it wouldn’t be moving forward. A high-pitched mechanical whine filled the air. The propeller picked up speed, roiling and churning a great froth of water, and the submersible shot forth into the tube.

Behind her were footsteps and cries of alarm.

Emily.

Her sister needed assistance.

She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. Emily was safely wrapped in Nadya’s arms. Beside them stood Nicu. Factory workers surrounded all three. Several angry-looking men advanced in her direction.

Emily was fine, but Lady Huntley was carrying the man she loved out into the Thames, to the sea. And he was bleeding.

Panic gathered inside and rose into her throat. “No!” she screamed, running for the ladder that clung to the side of the tank. Flinging herself down it, falling to the ground, she rose and started running once more. She squeezed past the iron fence and stumbled down to the river’s edge, not caring what might be underfoot.

Amanda stared at the opening of the tube into the Thames. Hundreds of small kraken churned the water with their tentacles waving, holding on to…‌ pieces of other kraken. It was as if…‌ as if the submersible had exploded outward, shredding all kraken in its way. She looked up and out, but there seemed no other evidence of the vessel’s passage. Before her stretched nothing but an expanse of choppy river. No wake disturbed the water. No air bubbles rose to the surface. Boats moved past, going about their routine. Beyond it London sat, cloaked in the dull gray of the oncoming night.

Something inside her choked. Gone. Would she ever see him again? Her heart constricted as if uncertain it should continue to beat. She should have said something, declared her love, before it was too late. Before the opportunity was ripped away.

Out of the gathering darkness, from beneath Vauxhall Bridge, a single small boat fought its way upstream, against the prevailing currents, pointing itself in her direction.

Black and his agents? If so, they were too late. Far too late.

Wait. What was that? She struggled to focus through the gloom. There, on the surface of the water, the pattern of waves disrupted. And then she saw it, the metallic hump of the submersible rising in the Thames, water cascading down its sides.

The hatch opened.

And Thornton, his dark hair blowing in the wind, climbed out.

The world spun and grew dark as the kraken-strewn shore rushed up at her.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

B
RIGHT LIGHTS OVERHEAD
blinded her before she even opened her eyes. Amanda turned her head away from the glare and cracked her eyelids. Where was she?

The room that swam into focus had a familiar feel. The same stark, utilitarian decor of Lister Laboratories. Yet she was in a hospital bed, the mattress thin beneath her, the pillow almost non-existent, and the wool blanket itched. A row of equally stark beds stretched away from her. All empty but for one. At the far end, beneath a blanket, slept a lone figure.

“Hello?” she called. Footsteps echoed on the tiled floor.

A moment later, a familiar face looked down. “About time,” Black said. Amusement danced in his eyes. “Being shot by a German spy is no excuse for lying about unconscious for days on end.”

Days?
“Where, exactly, am I?”

“You’re in the long-term hospital ward beneath the laboratories for those agents requiring round the clock care. No one was certain what effects the poison might have. That bullet was lodged in your shoulder blade for quite some time, its poisons seeping into your system. Surgery was required to remove it. It was touch and go there for a bit, Lady Amanda. You nearly stopped breathing.” Black frowned. “The Chemistry Department is still struggling to determine exactly what toxin coated those bullets.”

Amanda struggled to sit up; pain radiated through her shoulder, down her arm as the memories flooded back.

Shot.

Lady Huntley also shot Thornton, deliberately firing at his injured leg, underscoring the depth of her betrayal.

“Thornton?” Was that him at the far end of the room?

“He’ll be fine.” Black waved away her concern. “Lady Huntley’s bullet only shredded some muscle as it passed through. The toxin made the wound a nasty mess, but it’ll heal. Nice work, by the way. On the fly surgery in the back of a vardo. Once that new wound of Thornton’s heals, the doctors say he’ll soon be as good as new.” He rocked back on his feet. “Ever consider field surgery?”

Amanda ignored his attempt at levity and sank back into the pillows. Thornton was fine. Yet not here at her side. She couldn’t bring herself to ask if he’d visited. Likely he was back in the classroom, back in the laboratory. She ran her fingertips over the coarse wool blanket. Work and duty would always come first with him. He’d pushed her away when she’d first made her advances, warned her there was no place in his life for a wife. Except…‌ those feverish words, the way he’d clung to her as if she were his lifeline. She was so certain he was about to make a declaration.

First, she needed to know what had happened inside that submersible. “I heard Lady Huntley’s weapon discharge. I was so certain…‌”

“Would you like the whole story?”

“Tell me.”

“Your messenger boy directed me to the Airship Sales factory. Apologies for not arriving sooner; I commandeered the first river patrol boat I could. My agents and I found you in a crumpled heap at the edge of the Thames, surrounded by gypsies. They caught you as you collapsed, sparing you a swim with the kraken. Impressive that you managed to stave off the effects of that German bullet long enough to run to the river’s edge.”

“Adrenaline.” The only thing worse than the pain in her shoulder had been knowing that evil woman had the man she loved in her grips. Amanda closed her eyes.
The man I love.
She hadn’t meant to let that happen, love. She’d warned herself against such feelings and yet there it was. She’d gone and fallen in love with him, body and soul, and lost a piece of her heart in the process.

His intelligence, his drive, his work. His loyalty to his country and those he cared about. And there was no discounting the physical attraction she felt. That low growl in his voice, those facile fingers, those curls that tumbled over his brow when he was lost in his work.

But that kiss in the submersible station, it had been their last. It had to be. She’d grown too attached, wanting to keep Thornton for herself. But she wouldn’t. She’d promised to lay no claim on him. She would let him go. Now, while she could still do so with dignity and without embarrassing him, without damaging either of their careers. It hurt. But she didn’t regret her actions. Any of them.

The hole in her heart tore a little more.

“How?” she prompted, needing to distract herself from such unwelcome thoughts and feelings. She opened her eyes and looked up at Black. “If Thornton is fine, why didn’t he stop the submersible from leaving the dock?”

“The tetrodotoxin from the bullets slowed her down, but Lady Huntley still managed to throw the vessel into autopilot before Thornton could reach her. There was a struggle. You can imagine what that must have been like inside such a small tin can. Thornton managed to grab Lady Huntley’s arm in time to deflect the bullet, though it ricocheted around. It must have made quite some noise.”

It had. A horrible clanging noise that had nearly stopped her heart from beating.

“By then, the submersible had entered the initial portion of the tube, and Thornton reasoned it was better to blast through at high velocity rather than risk getting stuck.” Black had warmed to the story, his arm whipping through the air as if recreating Thornton’s explosive launch into the Thames. “I gather the number of kraken you’d observed was cause for concern?”

She nodded. There’d been so, so many.

“The river patrol is quite pleased, by the way, that another kraken nest has been located and destroyed.” Black paused. “Lady Huntley required a few hours of assisted breathing, but is now, unfortunately, fine. I found her the darkest, dankest cell I could manage. So far, she is refusing to cooperate.”

Amanda hoped she refused to cooperate for years. “Henri?”

“Exactly who he said he was,” Black answered. “Thornton has seen that his mother will be well-cared for.”

“Luca?” she asked. Then followed his gaze to the blanket-covered lump at the far end of the room. “Is it that bad?”

“A matter of perspective, I suppose. No gypsy wants artificial modifications. Gypsy and
ton
are a lot alike that way. So, from Luca’s viewpoint, his artificial eye is an abomination. From a research standpoint, he’s a miraculous success.”

“And from the Queen’s point of view?”

“There is quite some concern over his status as Romanichal gypsy.” Black sighed. “Since he has declined to enter the Queen’s service, the camera has been disabled. Therefore, only two options remain. He may return the eye.”

Amanda sucked in a breath.

“Exactly,” Black said. “Or he can sign an agreement to take on an entirely new identity, to prevent the technology from falling into enemy hands. No matter his choice, Luca will never be allowed to leave England’s shores.”

“A new identity. He has to go into hiding?” she asked.

Black nodded.

Amanda did not think Luca would agree. Gypsy identity was tightly tied to family. “What does my sister have to say about all this?”

“Despite your father’s many and colorful threats, they are not legally man and wife. The Queen herself has forbidden Lady Emily entry into this facility, and without a legal marriage she will not be offered the opportunity to disappear with Luca.”

Emily must be beside herself with worry. “Not a healthy situation for the baby.”

“I know, but my hands are tied.”

“Take me to him.” She struggled upright, then, looking down with alarm at the thin cotton gown she wore, she pulled the wool blanked about her shoulders, the most modesty she could manage.

Black averted his gaze. “He won’t talk to anyone.”

“He only need listen.” Amanda’s legs shook beneath her as she stood. A bullet wound and a hefty dose of an unknown toxin had left her physically weak, but her mind felt as clear as ever. And she needed something to think about besides Thornton.

The floor was cold beneath her bare feet and a draft blew about her ankles as she walked past the long row of beds. She counted six, wondering if they’d ever all been occupied simultaneously. The whole distance, Black’s steadying hand was at her elbow.

He left her at Luca’s bedside.

The light above his bed was off, casting Luca’s beard-roughened face into shadow as he lay on his side, eyes closed. But there was no hiding the swollen tissue about his new eye. It was purple and yellow and green and looked hideously painful.

“Luca,” she said, lowering herself onto the edge of his bed. “Are you awake?”

“Go away, Amanda,” he said. “Try to help Emily forget me. This agency, whatever it is, will never set me free. Not so long as I wish to have two eyes.”

“Such melodrama, Luca. You’ve a wife with a child on the way.”

“Not in the eyes of the law.”

“Phfft.” She brushed aside his objection. “A special license and a minister can take care of that in a heartbeat. All you need to do is agree to cooperate.” She paused, waiting for a response. None came. Stubborn man; it was time to turn the screws. “Emily needs you, Luca. Your child needs you. Don’t abandon them. Do you know what their lives will be like among the
ton
without a husband or a father? Don’t abandon my sister when she needs you most.”