Terra Mechanica: A Steampunk Anthology (46 page)

Mr. Brownlea was gagged and bound to a chair nearby, no doubt by the same restraints he had originally planned for Sir Reinleigh to wear himself. His eyes were wide, and he was clearly trying to scream something through the wad of cloth filling his mouth.

“Please be quiet, Mr. Brownlea,” Reinleigh admonished. “If you wish to learn what befell your beloved Emily, I am going to need my concentration. There have been so many others since then; it’s getting hard to remember all of the particulars.”

Reinleigh drew the blade’s sharp point softly down the woman’s throat. He was gentle enough not to draw any blood until he nicked the skin at the collarbone. A ruby blossomed at the knife’s silver tip, and Reinleigh licked his lips.

Whilst the woman whimpered, struggling in vain against the ropes which held her firmly in place, the older part of Jonesburry made one last desperate rally against the waves of compulsion holding him back. With what willpower he could muster against the emotions flooding in via the knot, he sent his own countering commands crashing into Reinleigh’s mind.

The knot flickered, just for the briefest of instants, before it hardened again. Reinleigh, who was so thoroughly engrossed in his dealings with the girl, didn’t even seem to notice Jonesburry’s failed attempt at rebellion. Desperate to try again, Jonesburry took a deep breath and attempted to summon his strength of will once more. But this time, the knot held steady, and his resolve slipped away like so much sand from between his fingertips.

“This is going to hurt,” came a hoarse whisper from over Jonesburry’s shoulder. Fingers of liquid flame began tearing their way through his skull, and from the corner of his vision, Horace’s hand, pale and shaking from loss of blood, held the extraction tool used to trigger the Spider’s release mechanism.

Jonesburry was screaming, but he could barely tell as the pain of a hundred micro-filaments retracted through neural pathways which had been established for years. Darkness closed in fast, but as the cursed knot finally disappeared, he held on long enough to trigger his wrist release mechanism.

He didn’t remember aiming, but the last thing he saw before the shadows finally took him was Sir Reinleigh collapsing over the woman’s body with a bullet wound straight through his heart.

“I took your advice,” Jonesburry said before everything went black.

IV Cadenza

Jonesburry’s hand kept finding its way back to the place on his scalp where the Spider once resided. There was nothing there anymore, save a set of five barely imperceptible scars where the filament legs had been embedded for so long. Replacing his bowler, he drew his attention back to the foreign couple arguing across the street under the light of a gas lantern.

For the last five minutes, they had been quarrelling about which was the correct direction back to their hotel. Jonesburry knew because their French had been loud enough to hear from across the other side of the street. It would seem that the side-effects of his various bindings still lingered, with little sign or hope of them lessening over time.

Still being able to understand French was the least of his problems though. He could still barely look at an airship without breaking out in a cold sweat, and then . . . well, then there were the after-effects of his final binding with Sir Reinleigh.

The door behind him opened suddenly, drawing Jonesburry’s mind sharply back to the task at hand.

“Well then,” Horace’s gruff voice boomed out from the threshold. “Here’s a face I didn’t think I’d be seeing again so soon. You can come on in if you promise not to skewer me this time.”

“I’m not promising anything,” Jonesburry laughed as he entered the hallway, following his partner’s lead. “Besides, at least you now know what Shanghai felt like.”

“You and that bloody Shanghai story. If you keep harping on about that little opium den scuffle of yours, I’ll have to reopen that pretty little scar you got myself.” Horace made his way into the sitting room and eased himself into a chair with a visible wince. “Eleven weeks, and it still bloody hurts.”

“Next time, I’ll just stab you in the heart then, shall I?” Jonesburry replied.

“There’ll be no bloody next time,” Horace snorted. “There should never have even been a first time. You need to keep control of your cursed bindings. Anyone would think that last batty-fang was your first week on the job.”

Horace reached across to reclaim a half-drunk glass of whiskey sitting on his side table. “So, what brings you here? Looking to get back in the game? I’ve got a line of clients clamouring to get started on transportation, and I’ve got a new Spider just sitting there waiting, with your name on it.”

“Perhaps another time,” Jonesburry said. “Tell me, have you been following the papers recently?”

“Can’t say that I have—the whole city has been whipped into a frenzy by this Blackdown Ripper character, and there never seems to be anything else of note being printed these days. What’s he killed, two people in the last two weeks alone?”

“Three,” Jonesburry corrected, as he reached into his coat. “Last one was discovered this morning.”

“Three is it?” Horace asked. “He’s nothing if not persistent.”

“Perhaps,” Jonesburry admitted. “Do you want to know something interesting? The Ripper was Reinleigh.”

Horace choked on his whiskey, spluttering as he attempted to regain his breath. “Was he now?” he asked between gasps. “But then how—” Horace cut himself short, realisation flashing in his eyes as his face went pale. “You?”

Jonesburry smiled. Taking hold of the bone handled knife, he struck with a predator’s grace. Brownlea was already dead, and Horace was the last living link to his former life. It was a life he didn’t need any more; he had his own direction now.

He had a purpose.

Jay Barnson
is a transplant to the state of Utah from the east coast. Software engineer, video game developer, and father, he grew up on science fiction and fantasy, including Howard, Heinlein, Tokien, Lucas and Spielberg. His wife and daughters had to drag him to his first Steampunk convention. And now they can’t drag him away from the genre. Follow Jay on Twitter
@RampantCoyote
, Facebook
facebook.com/russell.barnson
, and on the web at
RampantGames.com
.

When
Michael Cross
isn't working on his next novel, he is reading, modding Steampunk inventions, or working on his airship with his copilot Chihuahua. Come see what secrets can be discovered in the hidden library of Michael Cross at www.Michael-Cross.com. Follow Michael on Twitter
@TheCrossLibrary
, on Facebook
facebook.com/michael.cross.39395033
, and on the web at
Michael-Cross.com
.

Pete Ford
was born in England and lives in Colorado with his wife, Kate. He works as a web application developer, and in his spare time he writes. He relaxes by reading, and playing computer games. His first novel,
Mr. Gunn & Dr. Bohemia
, was published by Xchyler Publishing in 2013. The second instalment of the Gunn & Bohemia series is slated for release later in 2014. Follow Pete on Twitter
@PeteFordWriter
, Facebook
facebook.com/PeteFordWriter
, and on the web at
PeteFordWriter.com
.

TC Phillips
hails from Queensland, Australia, where he lives with his wife, three children, a spoilt cat, and an overactive imagination.  He has been attracted to the written word since childhood and is excited to contribute to the world of storytelling.  He holds degrees Theatre Studies and Education, and is completing his Master of Arts (Writing) through Swinburne University of Technology. Follow Phillips on Twitter
@T_C_Phillips
, Facebook
facebook.com/tc.phillips.980
, and on the web at
CobblestoneScribe.com
.

J. R. Potter
gravitated towards the paranormal world from an early age, and found The X-Files an education in great storytelling and mythmaking. James has published short fiction in
The Portland Review
, and won two international short story competitions. James tours with his wife Amy as “The Crooked Angels,” an Americana duo specializing in rocking your socks off. Follow Potter on Twitter
@JRPotter1
, and on Tumblr at
www.thingsthatslither.tumblr.com
.

Rie Sheridan Rose
has been writing professionally for over ten years. She has published novels, short stories, and poetry collections, and contributed to numerous anthologies. She also wrote lyrics for Marc Gunn's “Don’t Go Drinking With Hobbits” CD. Her latest novel, The Marvellous Mechanical Man is the first in a Steampunk series called The Conn-Mann Chronicles. Follow Rose on Twitter
@RieSheridanRose
, Facebook
facebook.com/pages/Rie-Sheridan-Rose/38814481714
, and on the web at
riewriter.com
.

C. R. Simper
graduated from Arizona State University with a degree in Purchasing and Logistics Management. She is married and a stay-at-home mom of four children. She has written in multiple genres and decided to try Steampunk at the suggestion of her oldest daughter. “The Journey of Inspector Roux” is her first published story.

S. D. Simper
has lived in Arizona her entire life. She’s a recent graduate from Eastern Arizona College, but has plans to further her education once she figures out what she actually wants to do with her life. This is her first time publishing, and she goes around annoying everyone about it because of how excited she is.

Scott E. Tarbet
is the author of A Midsummer Night’s Steampunk from Xchyler Publishing, Tombstone, in the paranormal anthology Shades & Shadows, and the forthcoming Dragon Moon and  Nautilus Redux. He writes enthusiastically in several genres. An avid skier, hiker, golfer, and tandem kayaker, he makes his home in the mountains of Utah. Follow Tarbet on Twitter
@SETarbet
and on the web at 
ScottTarbet.timp.net
.

At The X, we pride ourselves in discovery and promotion of talented authors. Our anthology project produces three books a year in our specific areas of focus: fantasy, Steampunk, and paranormal. Held winter, spring/summer, and autumn, our short-story competitions result in published anthologies from which the authors receive royalties.