Glorious Victorious Darcys 01.5 - His Broken Angel

HIS BROKEN ANGEL

A Glorious Victorious Darcys Novella

Beth Ciotta

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EW
A
MERICAN
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IBRARY

Published by the Penguin Group

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Copyright © Beth Ciotta, 2013

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E-book ISBN: 978-1-10160804-3

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

PRAISE FOR

“Beth Ciotta’s
Her Sky Cowboy
is pure charm. This is a must read for anyone who loves the genre—or hasn’t even tried it yet. You’ll be hooked!”

—
New York Times
bestselling author Heather Graham “A wildly inventive, action-packed steampunk adventure! Lady inventors, sexy renegade lawmen, airships, acid rock, and flying horses—
Her Sky Cowboy
has it all!”

—Zoë Archer

”Contemporary romance author Ciotta’s first steampunk series blasts off with this exhilarating riff on bodice-ripping romance, hurling twentieth-century technology into an alternate Victorian England … the start of a delectable series.”

—Publishers Weekly
(starred review) ”In this first in her new steampunk series, Ciotta brings us into a world where science and inventions abound within the Victorian era. Masterfully written, with an intriguing plot and a sassy, strong, and intelligent heroine at its center. Add to that a heroic cowboy love interest and a supporting cast of distinctive characters, and this story is one fanciful, flying adventure.”

—Romantic Times
(top pick, 4½ stars) “Freaks, Mods, Vics, Flatliners, cowboys in airships, evil scientists, nefarious flying pirates, and time travel. Victorian England was never so much fun. Ciotta’s whimsical steampunk romance, the first in the Glorious Victorious Darcy series, is too good to miss.”

—Booklist
(starred review) “Steampunk is still an evolving genre. In most cases, it’s a hit or miss with either the romance or the steampunk story line. Beth’s “vision” on an alternate take on historical romance, though, was very well done, and I enjoyed reading it… . If you’re looking for something a bit different and fun, then I’d pick up
Her Sky Cowboy
.”

—USA Today
Happy Ever After “Ciotta’s delightfully imaginative steampunk historical has just the right mix of adventure and romance.”

—
Chicago Tribune

Also by Beth Ciotta

Her Sky Cowboy

Greetings fellow romantics and daring adventurers,

I don’t know about you, but one of my most cherished possessions is my imagination. It’s taken me to some wondrous places, but none so personally thrilling as the alternate world I created for
Her Sky Cowboy
and the subsequent stories in the Glorious Victorious Darcys series.

Imagine the 1960s: Race riots. Vietnam. The Cuban Missile Crisis.

Imagine a group of fanatical peace activists happening upon a means of time travel and jumping back to the source of departure, the mid-1800s, in hopes of altering the future and avoiding specific global atrocities.

Imagine their good intentions going horribly wrong, and instead, the two centuries meld, setting the world on an unknown course.

I imagined and ended up with a spectacular and endearing alternate era—The Victorian Age meets the Age of Aquarius.

Every decade, every era, every world has its own lingo. In kind there is terminology specific to the GVD universe. I’ve included a glossary for easy reference should you desire clarification. Also for those who have not read
Her Sky Cowboy
, the first installment in the series, I’d like to offer some history on how this world came to be. If you prefer to discover while reading, then skip this part. But for those who prefer background, this is for you!

SPECTACULARLY ASTONISHING EXCLUSIVE PEEKS INTO MARVELOUS HISTORICAL FACTS (SORT OF)

1851
—In Great Britain, the Great Exhibition is held at the Crystal Palace. Prince Albert encourages the celebration of inventions and technology.

Engineer/Visionary Briscoe Darcy introduces his one-of-kind time machine, vowing to journey forward in time and to return with a futuristic marvel. He vanishes in front of thousands of people’s eyes never to be seen again. Historically, Darcy is known as the Time Voyager.

1856
(A leap year) —A caravan of twentieth-century time travelers arrive in the nineteenth century via a time vehicle dubbed the Briscoe Bus. Their mission: to alter history for the preservation of mankind. Known as the Peace Rebels, these Mods spread the message: Make love, not war.

Hungry for knowledge regarding technological marvels of the future, Prince Albert embraces the PRs, causing a rift between himself and his old-fashioned wife, Queen Victoria. The PRs’ loose morals and advanced knowledge threaten their original goal. Random PRs are corrupted, selling knowledge to power-hungry Vics. Soon society is divided into two main factions: Old Worlders and New Worlders.

1860
—The Peace War breaks out, and when the dust settles …

A cross culture of the 1860s and the 1960s is born.

T
he Glorious Victorious Glossary

ALE
—Acronym for Air Law Enforcement, a legion of law enforcers who police the skies in airships.

automocoaches
—Road vehicles of various sizes and constructions, powered by steam or petrol. Often a cross between late 1800s mechanics and mid-to-late-1960s designs. (e.g., steam-powered Beetle Bug).

corneatacts
—Cosmetic optical lenses utilized by Freaks to disguise their kaleidoscope (rainbow) irises. Constructed to fit over the cornea, corneatacts create the illusion of normal, single-colored irises.

Disrupter 29
—A modified derringer (pocket pistol) enhanced by twentieth-century technology. An advanced weapon only available for purchase on the black market.

Freak
—The offspring of a Vic and a Mod, they are cross-century humans with varied supernatural gifts. Freaks are born with kaleidoscope eyes (irises that swirl with a rainbow of colors) and a unique blood type. A powerful and unpredictable minority, Freaks are regarded as a curiosity and/or threat. As such their civil rights are restricted by law.

Freak Fighter
—Any person belonging to the underground organization fighting for the emancipation of Freaks.

Freak Rebellion
—A brewing revolution intent on winning equal rights for Freaks.

HE
—Acronym for Healing Energy,a supernatural power that accelerates the healing of wounds and sickness.

Liberator—
Double-barreled grenade launcher.

Mod
—Any person born of parents from the twentieth century.

ModVic
—A cross-century clothing style, 1960s Bohemian meets 1880s Victorian.

New Worlder
—Liberals who embrace advanced knowledge and technology in the hopes of creating a better tomorrow.

Old Worlder
—Conservatives who shun radical change and fear divergence..

Peace Rebels
—Twentieth-century peace fanatics from the fields of arts and sciences who traveled back to the nineteenth century intent on altering history and circumventing future chaos and destruction.. As time goes on, also a moniker for any Vic who joins their cause.

Peace War
—(1860–1864) A four-year transcontinental war stemming from advanced twentieth-century knowledge that led to corruption on both sides of the Atlantic, infecting Americans and Europeans, Vics and Mods, blurring politics, culture, and beliefs. As a result, society divided into two factions—Old Worlders and New Worlders.

Remington Blaster
—A nineteenth-century revolver enhanced with twentieth-century technology.

skytown—
Floating pleasure meccas comprised of three to five airships. “Above the law,” these traveling hippie circuses offer illegal and outlawed entertainment and welcome equal fraternizing amongst Mods, Vics, and Freaks … and assorted criminals.

Time Voyager
—Briscoe Darcy, nineteenth-century Engineer/Visionary who invented a time machine and traveled into the future, ultimately enabling the twentieth-century Peace Rebels to travel to the 1800s.

Vic
—Any person born of parents from the nineteenth century.

London, England, 1887

Thirty-one years after the invasion of the twentieth-century Peace Rebels

Redemption was brutal.

Doc Blue sat on a steam-heated tiled bench (new and exclusive to Regent’s Park), hiding behind the latest issue of the
London Informer
and stealing looks at the church across the street. Even though his hide was warm, his heart felt plumb iced-over. Knowing he was to blame for his predicament didn’t ease the hurt of being excluded from the wedding of his friend and mentor, Tucker Gentry, famously known as the Sky Cowboy.

Every other member of the former air marshal’s ragtag crew was in attendance—StarMan, Eli Boone, Axel O’Donnell, Birdman Chang. Then again, none of them had betrayed Tuck. None of them had endangered the lives of the marshal and his lady love, Amelia Darcy. None of them had leaked the location of their airship, enabling the notorious Captain Dunkirk to steal away their technological invention of historical significance.

Nope, that had been Doc’s sole doin’. It didn’t matter that he’d been hornswoggled by a fellow Freak touting the Freak cause and promising to put Doc in touch with his estranged brother. Plain and simple, for sure and for certain, Doc had messed up.

So here he was. Ostracized—and not because of his mutant race.

“Dash it all, Blue. Buck up,” he said to himself.

The longer he sat there watching, the worse he felt. Yet he couldn’t tear himself away. He needed to see for himself that Tuck and Amelia were married and safely on their way and then he’d …

Truth be told, his future was up in the air. And he couldn’t move on until he’d made peace with his past.

Tugging down the brim of his derby, Doc breathed deeply, ignoring the noxious fumes and chaos of the industrialized city while seeking serenity—something he’d never possessed.

Another glance at the church.

The doors remained closed, the ceremony ongoing. Pedestrians, a boodle of mixed classes, strolled by while costermongers hawked wares on each corner. The street bustled with cacophonous traffic while time moved slower than a snail on crutches.

Anticipation was nearly as brutal as elusive redemption.

Remorse knotted Doc’s gut as he skimmed another page of London’s most popular tabloid, hoping for a feel-good article and instead finding sensationalized accounts touting the escalating Freak Rebellion. At least, he hoped they were sensationalized. Especially the interview regarding the attempted kidnapping of the British Prime Minister, an attack purportedly carried out by an extreme squad of the Freak Fighters. Doc hoped his brother, who’d joined the Fighters a few months back, wasn’t involved, and he prayed that the witness’s account was grossly exaggerated. It painted a grim picture of Doc’s race, fanning the flames of dogmatic damnation.

Doc had spent most his twenty-one years living on the fringes, dodging intolerance. People on the whole shunned, feared, or ridiculed what they did not understand. Intolerance often led to injustice and, in radical circumstances, violence.
Oppress what you fear
was sadly a credo of the staunchest Old Worlders.

Then there were those who sought to harness and manipulate Doc and his kind—or rather their unique
powers
.

Son of a time-traveling, twentieth-century Mod and a nineteenth-century Vic, Doc was a first-generation Freak. An altered race gifted with supernatural skills. The skills were varied and intensified with time. No one knew the limit of their powers. No one knew if they’d die of old age or live forever. Some could read minds. Some could manipulate the weather. Others possessed superhuman strength or intellect. There was no rhyme or reason as to who got what gift, but they were all born with kaleidoscope eyes, a uniformed trait that made them easy to identify. Freaks who wished to blend with polite society disguised their rainbow eyes by wearing single-colored corneatacts or tinted specs or goggles. Given a botched surgery when he was a kid, Doc didn’t have the option of wearing corneatacts. Tinted blue specs were his disguise of choice.

He squinted through those specs now, at the fine print of the scandal sheet—seeing but not reading, mind racing, gut churning. An outcast of his own making.

This
time.

Another peek at the church. Had they said their vows? Had Tuck kissed the bride? Had the former air marshal glanced at his crew, bemoaning the absence of Doc even a little?

“Sulking and spying. How bloody pathetic,” a nearby woman said.

Doc tensed as a petite young lady sidled in next to him. Steam hissed as her cold caboose scooted across the heated tiles. Her freckled cheeks were reddened from the frosty air while the rest of her compact body benefited from a fleece-lined duster, thick scarf, and leather gloves. Two long red braids dangled from beneath her aviator cap, and brass goggles shielded her eyes. She looked familiar, yet she didn’t. “Do I know you?”

“No, but your brother does.”

That earned Doc’s attention. He hadn’t seen Jasper in three years, and not for lack of trying. His latest attempt had landed him on this park bench instead of a church pew.

“That’s my distant cousin in there,” she said, pushing her goggles to her forehead, then nodding toward the church. “I wasn’t invited to the ceremony either, but you don’t see me crying in my newsprint.”

“I’m not …” Doc folded the newspaper then angled in. “You always this rude, Miss—”

“Darcy. P.J. Darcy. I prefer to think of myself as direct.”

A Darcy, huh? Odd that Doc had admired Amelia’s straight-forward manner while this woman, who looked as if she’d yet to breech her teens, grated on his nerves. “How do you know my brother?”

“We’re friends.”

Well, hell
. Jasper went out of his way to avoid his only brother, yet this girl spent enough time with the man to call him
friend
? “Jasper’s an outlaw. You an outlaw, Miss Darcy?”

“No warrants for my arrest, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Keep consortin’ with Jasper and there will be.” Younger than Doc by just one year, Jasper had rebelled against society soon after their parents had been killed in a suspect house fire. A Mod and a Vic who’d produced not one but two Freak sons, Ray and Pearl Bluebell had been hounded and driven out of more than one town—all because of Jasper’s volatile outbursts. Whereas Doc had been born with a gentle disposition and the gift of accelerated healing, his younger brother had been saddled with a short temper and superhuman strength.

“I can take care of myself,” P.J. said with a haughty sniff. “Unlike some people in this world.”

Was that a jab at Doc? A comment on polite society?

“For someone who claims to be direct,” Doc said, “you’re sure jawin’ around the point. Why are you here? What do you want?” He braced for a message from his brother.
Stop looking for me. I’m an outlaw, a Fighter. You and me can’t mix.

“I need you to come with me.”

“Why?”

“I need you to fix someone.”

“My brother?” Doc tensed. “You say that like he’s broken.”

“Not Jasper. An American chit. And, I suppose, we do regard her as
broken
. Broken in spirit. Our own physician, Patch, tended to her most grievous wounds. Unfortunately, her lack of gumption, as Jasper calls it, has hindered her recovery. Patch blames it on her recent loss of eyesight.”

“Sustained in conjunction with her other injuries?” Doc asked.

She nodded. “Patch couldn’t determine the problem, and he’s been called away on a personal matter. Your brother thought—”

“How is Jasper involved with this woman?”

“He isn’t, not directly. But she was a victim of a skirmish and landed in our care when our mission went balls up.”

Two things surprised Doc. First, that Miss Darcy was somehow involved with the rebellion. Second, Miss Darcy’s frank language. Even though he was American and not stodgy by any means, Englishwomen were usually more proper. Near as Doc could see,
proper
was a foreign concept to Miss P.J. Darcy. He recognized the bulge beneath her buttoned coat and knew she was packing hardware. “You involved with the Freak Fighters?”

“One of their ace pilots,” she said with a cocky smile.

“But you’re not a Freak.”

“No. But I believe in the cause. I fight alongside your brother because I think you should have the same rights as me. So what if you’re an altered race? You’re still human.”

Superhuman, truth be told. Something Doc accepted about himself, but didn’t advertise. “That’s very noble, Miss Darcy. I suppose you think my brother has taken up arms against the Vics for the same reason, to win equal rights for Freaks.”

“Why else?”

Revenge, mostly. Notoriety, maybe. Doc didn’t figure Miss Darcy would cotton to his opinion on the matter. Clearly she was enamored with Jasper. Most women were. “I’m a gifted healer, Miss Darcy, not God. I can accelerate the healing process of most injuries, but curing blindness?” As much as Doc wanted to reconnect with his brother, he could not in good conscience misrepresent his supernatural skills. “Can’t say that’s within my power.”

“You don’t know one way or the other? No prior attempts?”

“None.”

“Hmm. Well, you never know unless you try and, in this instance, I wager you’ll want to take your best shot. The young woman I speak of is the sister of your boss.”

Doc furrowed his brow. “Lily Gentry?”

“Should you desire to mend bridges with the Sky Cowboy,” P.J. said while snapping her goggles back into place, “I suggest you come with me.”

Doc’s heart hammered. Lily injured and blind? On
this
side of the Atlantic? “There must be some mistake. Lily’s in America.” Doc had heard from StarMan that arrangements were being made to bring her overseas, but that the plans wouldn’t be implemented until Tuck had been officially cleared of his crimes. “From what I understand Tuck sent Lily a Teletype alerting her of the impending relocation. He received a response from her yesterday. A response that originated in New York City.”

P.J. shrugged. “The response might have originated in America, but Lily didn’t send it.”

Doc dragged a hand over his face. He was puzzled.
Stunned
. “We need to tell Tuck—”

“Jasper said you and you alone.” Patience ebbing, she nudged Doc with her elbow. “Look at it this way. You’re saving the cowboy from the misery of seeing his sister battered and broken. Fix her first then deliver her safely to Gentry. I imagine he’d forgive just about anything then, don’t you think?”

Doc glanced to the cobblestone church, standing pure and regal against the polluted winter sky. The congested roads swarmed with a combination of horse-drawn carriages and steam-powered automocoaches, evidence of the ongoing battle between Old Worlders and New Worlders, those who resisted modern technology and those who raced forward. Doc wanted to race forward. He wanted to leave his betrayal in the dust and to reestablish his home on the airship
Maverick
and to repair his damaged reputation with Tuck. As it was, Doc had dug himself into a deep, dark hole. Even though he’d lived his life in the shadows, he’d never felt so lost.

The arched doors flung open and his stomach knotted as Tuck and Amelia, followed by the crew of the Maverick, burst outside with huge smiles and loud cheers.

I should be with them
.

Doc’s elusive brother aside, Tuck and crew, and now Amelia, were as close as he had to a family. They were celebrating not only a marriage, but also the Queen of England’s promise to exonerate Tuck and his men, including Doc, from their ill-accused crimes in America. Doc ached to join the festivities and the crew’s mission to retrieve the artifact lost to Captain Dunkirk. But he wasn’t welcome. He wasn’t trusted.

He glanced back to P.J. Darcy. “How do I know you’re who you say you are? The last person who promised to lead me to my brother played me for a fool.”

Her mouth quirked. “Jasper knew you’d be leery, what with your recent bugaboo.” She reached into her pocket and presented Doc with a worn daguerreotype.

He blinked through his tinted specs at the four familiar faces, faded and stained, his family. A family that was no more.

His papa smiled back at him, eyes sparkling with wisdom and courage. His mama’s smile was forced and Doc knew, because he remembered, she’d been minutes away from having one of her spells. The brothers were close in height, had the same lean, strong build, and according to the ladies both of the Bluebell boys were handsome. ’Course, they’d never seen Doc without the shaded spectacles that concealed his hideous defect.

Doc had inherited his mama’s fair features, pale skin, hair so blond it was almost white, and eyes… . Had he been born of one dimension, they would have been blue. Had it not been for the botched surgery …

Doc shifted his gaze to Jasper. Black hair, olive skin, kaleidoscope eyes. Usually the tension between the siblings was obvious, but in this photograph, Jasper had slung his arm around his older brother’s shoulder, and Doc remembered there’d been real affection in that moment.

His heart ached to the point of cracking, and he forced himself to pocket the photograph while focusing on his other family. His other loss.

One he might be able to do something about.

He could take the bull by the horns, rescue Lily Gentry, cure her maladies, and deliver her safe and sound to Tuck.

Redemption
.