Cold Copper: The Age of Steam (36 page)

T
he Madders were right where they’d left them, standing among the church ruins, smoking pipes. The sheriff stood to one side of the road, but the townspeople and children were gone, having all recovered from their dreaming state.

It took no time for the Madders to come aboard.

The sheriff did not look sorry to see them leave.

While Captain Hink ordered his crew around and the Madders got settled, Cedar stepped up close to Wil.

“I want to talk to it, Wil.”

“Can’t we just, can’t I just rest a bit?” Wil asked. “Besides, it seems…sad.”

“Wil.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll try to make it hear you.” He nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Our bargain is done,” Cedar said. “I freed your kind. Now you leave my brother alone.”

Wil’s face changed minutely, eyes relaxing wider, but jaw tightening. He didn’t look quite Wil-like. Because it was the Strange looking out through Wil’s eyes.

“Not all. My kind. Still. Many dying. Many trapped.”

“But I freed those—we freed those in that warehouse.”

“Our promise holds.” Then Wil’s face was just Wil again, and it was
Wil who spoke. “I get the impression there are more of those copper-and-glass things. More Strange trapped inside of them. Maybe shipped off by rail or river?”

“We can’t track them all down,” Cedar growled.

Wil put his hand on Cedar’s shoulder. “Not today we can’t. Maybe tomorrow. Cedar, I’m fine. I feel fine. It’s not difficult to live with. Not yet. So let’s enjoy what we have today. While we have it.”

“Wil,” Mae said, “I’ll need you here a moment.”

Wil worked his way down the length of the airship and paused next to the hammock where Father Kyne had been bedded down. Cedar followed along.

“It’s time to break the healing bond,” she said.

Wil glanced at Cedar.

“I’d forgotten,” Cedar said. “Suppose we should be sitting?”

“No, I don’t think it will be painful.”

Mae said a simple prayer and gently broke the healing bond.

Cedar and Wil both took in a deep breath. Cedar felt as if a rock had been lifted from his chest, allowing his lungs to fill. The absence of that pain was intoxicating, but breathing in too deeply set him into a long coughing spell. He pulled his handkerchief up to his mouth and noticed the speckling of blood there.

“Cedar,” Mae said. “Are you all right?”

He folded the bloody cloth and tucked it away in his pocket. “I’m fine. Just fine.”

Father Kyne lifted his hand. “Thank you,” he said to Cedar and Wil. “For all you have done. For me. And for this town.”

Wil smiled. “It was fun. Hell of a way to spend a day or two.” He gave Cedar a pointed look. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Then he turned and wandered back down the airship, as if restless to walk in a man’s body again.

“Let me get you some tea,” Mae said to Father Kyne. She made her way to the very back and tended the small stove there.

“You were the one who stood your ground for those children,” Cedar said to the father. “We were just part of the people who helped make things right.”

“You have done so much more.” He lifted a hand toward the others on the ship. “Gathered together these people. Created a…family.”

Cedar looked over at the Madders who were making themselves comfortable on the floor midship, leaning against the wall and tamping tobacco in pipes, feet stretched out in front of them, to Miss Dupuis and Mr. Wicks who stood with their heads bent toward each other near one of the windows, talking quietly.

Captain Hink was at the helm and Rose stood next to him, her arm around his waist. His crewmen were on either side of them, Mr. Ansell humming the strains of a song Cedar realized was one of Bach’s concertos. Lastly, there was Wil, slowly walking through the ship, not yet content to settle down.

Wil had given Alun the Holder as soon as the ship had been under way. Cedar had never seen a man stash a bit of metal away in his bags so quickly. He hadn’t asked Alun what he was going to do with it, but he had a fair idea. The Madders said they could lock the Holder away and ensure that all pieces of it were safely out of the hands of every man in this country.

“I don’t know that it’s a family,” Cedar said. “Friends, yes.” Rose leaned her head against Hink’s arm and Miss Dupuis chuckled softly at something Wicks had said. “Maybe more than friends. Comrades in the fight. Whatever the fight might be.”

“The fight’s the same as it ever was, Mr. Hunt,” Alun said around a mouth full of pipe smoke. “We find the Holder before it falls into the wrong hands. We save the world from destruction. Not a bad note to leave in the margins of history, is it?”

The Madders chuckled and Bryn pulled out a small bag of dice. “Of course, there are other ways to pass the time.”

The rattle of dice caught Wil’s ear and he ambled over to join the game.

“Family,” Father Kyne repeated. “Not of blood. But of choice.”

Cedar nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”

“What heading have you taken, Captain Hink?” Alun asked.

“East,” Hink said. “There’s a place we can tuck in out Chicago way, if that suits most.”

“Suits us fine,” Alun said.

“Chicago will do for me as well,” Mr. Wicks said.

Wil leaned back a bit to look at Cedar. Cedar shrugged. Chicago was as good a place as any to wait out the storms and look for the trail to lead them to the next piece of the Holder. There would be work there, lodging. And it did not slip his notice that Chicago was also where Killian Vosbrough’s brother lived.

“Good,” Captain Hink said. “It’s settled. Take the helm, Mr. Seldom. My boilerman and I are going to see that this ship’s fires are properly stoked.”

Mr. Seldom slipped over to take the wheel and Hink and Rose strode down the ship toward the boiler room in the rear.

Rose’s complexion was rather pink at the cheek, but she was smiling like the sun rose and set on the airship captain.

It was good to see more than infatuation in her gaze. There was love. If Cedar was any judge of a man, Hink returned her feelings more than she realized.

He looked over at Mae, who was pouring hot water into two cups by the stove. His heart caught at her beauty, her strength.

“Cedar,” Mae said. He realized he’d been staring, and looked away to try to sort his wants.

Mate
, the beast whispered in his mind.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked.

He strolled over to her. “Tea would be fine,” he said. “Just fine.”

He took a drink and closed his eyes a moment, savoring the sheer warmth and sweet green of it. A man could get so mixed up in unworldly things, in dangerous things, but a simple cup of strong tea brought times more wholesome rushing back to him like memories lost.

“Where will we go once we reach Chicago?” she asked. “What will we do…with everyone?”

“We’ll search for the Holder,” he said. “There are five pieces still missing.”

“Four, Mr. Hunt,” Alun said. “You gathered up the tin bit a few months ago, but we pocketed the iron piece of it back in Hallelujah before we started off east.”

“Don’t recall you telling me that,” he said.

“Consider yourself told,” Alun said cheerfully.

Cedar sighed and Mae touched his hand gently.

“But Wil,” she said. “The Strange. You made a promise to it too.”

“To free the Strange?” He took another drink of tea and studied his brother over the rim of the mug. Wil threw the dice and laughed. The Strange might be in him, but it didn’t appear to be hurting him.

“I’ll uphold my promise to the Strange. Somehow. Just as I’ll find the Holder, and then find a way to break the curse Wil and I carry. For good. After that?” He took another drink. “We’ll settle down. Find a piece of land. Build a home.”

Mae brushed her hand back over her hair, pulling the wayward strands out of the way. She took a sip of tea then smiled softly. “I believe you will do all of those things,” she said. “But it does sound wonderful right now, doesn’t it? A house. A fire. A quiet sort of life.”

“Is that what you want, Mae?” he asked.

“It’s what I’ve always wanted,” she said.

Cedar placed his tea carefully on the edge of the stove. Then he turned to her, close enough he could feel the warmth of her exhale.

“Mae,” he said, uncertain of how to voice the thoughts that were
making his heart race. “I’d like to give you that. All of that. A quiet life. A house.”

She searched his face, a small line of confusion knitted between her brows.

Cedar didn’t know if this was the right time, but Wil had been right. If he didn’t enjoy what they had today, while they had it, it could be gone forever.

“Mae Rowen-Lindson,” he said, taking her hand and bending down on one knee. “I don’t have a ring. All I have to offer you is my heart. Will you do me the honor of being my wife? Will you marry me?”

Mae’s eyes went very wide. She held still, not breathing, not blinking. And for those slim, crushing moments, his world faded away, replaced only by her. Mae. His heart. His love.

Mate.

“Yes,” she said in a rush. “Yes, of course. Yes, I will.”

Cedar grinned and surged up onto his feet. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her long and full while Wil and the others clapped and cheered.

This, he thought, this woman, was his family. No matter where their path took them, no matter what stood in their way, no matter how long they had, they would face it together.

Mate,
the beast whispered again.

Yes, Cedar thought. She was his mate—and his love.

T
he airship
Tin Swift
took to the sky, but it was not the only wings upon the air. A tiny clockwork dragonfly made of gold with crystal wings fluttered down along the icy river and landed, gently, on Mayor Vosbrough’s chest.

The mayor was dead. Unbreathing.

It was a perfect state for the Strange who waited just inside the forest’s edge. He had been looking for the dragonfly, the rarest device of all, worth an emperor’s ransom.

And now the dragonfly was here, resting on that dead man, wings pumping like the softest heartbeat.

An invitation?

Yes.

The Strange slipped through the trees, nothing but a shadow of a man. But if he wore a shape of his choosing, he would be tall, with a top hat to hide his eyes, scarves to cover his jagged teeth, and needles at the tips of each finger.

This dead man was not the shape of his choosing. But it would do. It would do nicely.

The Strange hovered above the dead man. Then, in the manner only his kind could accomplish, he slipped into that flesh and bone like
a man donning a winter coat. He sat the body up, and swiveled his head while he dug through the knowledge left inside it.

This body was an important man. A powerful man. Yes, yes. That was pleasing.

He picked at the cuff of the man’s coat, freeing a thread from the seam. Then he used that thread to lash the dragonfly down into the hole in the man’s chest, trapping it tight so that the heart would beat and the lungs would fill. He would do a finer job of caging the rare clockwork device when he found a proper needle, a proper thread, and perhaps a drop of glim.

For now, he needed to know the name of the powerful man he had become, for names carried their own power.

Ah…Vosbrough. Killian Vosbrough. A familiar name. Not as fine as his own—Mr. Shunt—but it was fine enough.

He rose to his feet, far too graceful for a dead man. But then, he hadn’t been dead.

The Holder had been here, or a piece of it at least. It had been stolen by the hunter. He had watched that happen, seen it all from the shadows. He had watched the hunter win. Again.

Rage filled him. Rage and revenge.

But then Mr. Shunt smiled. The hunter’s small victory was no matter. Mr. Shunt was a new man now. And he had all the time he desired and all the power he needed to kill Cedar Hunt, and destroy the world.