The Brass Giant (23 page)

She crawled to him and gingerly touched the welt on his face. “Emmerich . . .”

He looked up at her, sorrow and defeat in his eyes.

Setting the photo album aside, she untied his binds and slipped the cloth from his face. “What happened?”

“We're too late,” he said hoarsely, rubbing his chaffed wrists. “The automatons are already in production. The designs were delivered days ago.” He frowned. “We failed.”

“Who did this to you?” she asked. “Was it Lyndon?”

He shook his head. “We were wrong, Petra. It wasn't Lyndon behind the conspiracy. It was—­” Light spilled in from the door behind her, and Emmerich blanched, his voice breaking. “—­my father.”

“Hello, Miss Wade,” said a deep voice.

Petra's chest constricted into a knot. She hadn't heard the footsteps.

The closet door opened fully, and above them stood a tall figure, his face stern. His eyes glanced from Petra to Emmerich with triumph, and Petra blinked, her heart failing to beat. She recognized those eyes—­the same copper color as his son's.

 

Chapter 20

E
MMERICH'S FATH
ER SEIZED
Petra beneath the arm and forced her to stand, his fingers painfully pinching her skin. She twisted in his grasp, stomping her heel down on his foot as she tried to wrench her arm free. “Let me go!”

Mr. Goss struck her with the back of his hand. The sting of the blow stunned her into momentary silence, and she pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek, tasting the acrid tang of blood as she glared daggers at him. The bastard.

“Emmerich,
help
me,” she grunted, struggling against his father.

He was on his feet now. “Father, you have no right to treat her this way. Let her go.” He laid a hand on her arm, his touch gentle but firm. “Petra,” he said quietly. “It's no use fighting. He's already won.”

His words cut through her heart and knocked the breath from her lungs. “
What
?”

Mr. Goss's grip on her arm tightened and he dragged her from the closet, away from Emmerich, away from the defeat in his eyes. “Give up, Miss Wade,” he said, throwing her into the desk chair. “My son knows when he is beaten. You would be wise to cooperate as well.”

She shook her head. Emmerich wouldn't give up, not so easily. He was too stubborn for that, too willful. They could still fight. They still had a chance.

Petra tried to stand, but Mr. Goss shoved her back into the chair. “Emmerich,” she pleaded, glancing toward him. “What is he talking about?”

Emmerich sighed. “Listen to him, Petra. Please.”

She blinked, unable to speak, not willing to believe that he had given up, that just like that it was all over.

“So, at last we meet, Miss Wade,” said Mr. Goss, stepping between her and his son. “Might I formally introduce myself? Julian Goss, minister to the vice-­chancellor, and Emmerich's father.” He gave a short bow.

Petra glared at him, gripping the arms of the desk chair as heat flushed through her body. “I know who you are, and I know what you're up to. We know of the conspiracy. We have evidence to prove it.”

Mr. Goss laughed grimly. “Is that so? And to whom, pray tell, do you plan to voice your paltry opinion of this matter? The Guild council? The Royal Court? Her Imperial Majesty, the queen?” He chuckled. “Tell me—­who will believe the word of an insignificant, poverty-­stricken shop girl over that of a member of the Guild council and minister to the vice-­chancellor? Your ‘evidence' is of no value.” He strode across the office to the door and latched the dead bolt, the other lock having been rendered useless by her break-­in. “Miss Wade, you have been a pain in my side since my son first laid eyes on you. It would be my absolute pleasure to finally put your insular rebellion to rest. You are playing at a game you have no business being a part of. Give up, Miss Wade. It's over. You've lost.”

“No,” she said, gritting her teeth. “Your son may have given up, but I refuse to sit back and let you start a war for your own gain. I won't give up. I'll fight you, and I'll keep fighting you until I can't anymore.”

Emmerich frowned. “Petra—­”

“Don't you dare, Emmerich Goss,” she said, glaring at him. “Don't you dare tell me what I can and can't do. You started this. You made me believe that we could make a difference, that we could stop this war—­together. So I plan to, in any way that I can.”

Julian Goss laughed, a gleam in his eye. “If you had half her spirit, Emmerich, you might have been a son I could be proud of,” he scoffed. “Instead, I have a son without ambition, dithering about with petty machinery and impudent shop girls.”

Petra raised her chin, leveling a stare at him as she sucked in a deep breath, her heart pounding in her ears. “Emmerich is twice the man you are, with ambitions far more worthy than the greedy desires of a man who would put the world to war for his own financial gain.”

“Money?” said Mr. Goss, a smile lifting his lips. “Is that what you think this is about?”

Petra faltered and glanced at Emmerich, who merely shook his head.

“It is true, Miss Wade—­I have the backing of hundreds of engineers, dozens of politicians, and some of the most prolific manufacturers in both Britain and Europe, and I own dozens of factories across the world. There is no doubt that war will make me a rich man. But more important than the money, this war will be the fuel behind the greatest age of scientific advancement the world has ever known.” He gathered himself to his full height and squared his shoulders, a sinister smile on his lips. “When this war buries the world in ashes, science will be the foundation of a new age, advancing faster than we can now imagine. We will rise from the war stronger than ever, with the technology to change the very nature of the world. We will break down society, break down the rigid traditions of a bygone era, and
rebuild
. We will come to peace and establish a new world order, a regime of scientific greatness, with the Guild and the might of the British Empire at its center.” He grinned, his eyes alive with a manic fury. “Don't you see? We will create a better world.”

Petra stared at Emmerich's father, her heart pounding in her throat. “This is madness.”

“No, madness is an affliction of the fallen,” he said, drawing away. “I am on the rise.”

“You would destroy the world to claim your power over it,” she said quietly.

“It has already begun, Miss Wade. You and my son may have thought you had a chance of sabotaging this vision of mine, but you have failed.” He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. “However, I am a forgiving man. I am willing to overlook the actions you have taken against the Guild—­in exchange for your ser­vices. You can be a part of this new world. All you have to do is agree to my terms.”

Petra scoffed. “Forget it.”

“Do not be so quick to reject my offer, Miss Wade. My son has already agreed.”

She glanced at Emmerich. “You didn't.”

Emmerich refused to look at her.

“Yes,” said his father. “I offered him the chance to work for the Guild as a liaison between us and our foreign allies who also wish to profit from this endeavor. He refused at first, of course, but I persuaded him in the end. My son will go on to work for the future Continental Edison Company in Paris, and there, he will serve as a Guild informant and engineer on the cusp of the next generation of science. It's what he's always wanted.”

Petra's heart sank, a trembling cold stealing over her. She shook her head, unwilling to believe that Emmerich would agree to work for the Guild knowing what they planned to do. She stared at him, her chest aching. “Tell me it's not true,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“Petra, I'm sorry,” he said, finally stepping toward her. “I had no choice.”

She pushed herself to her feet and shoved him hard in the chest, tears burning in her eyes. “Of course you have a choice!” She curled her fingers into fists, wanting nothing more than to hit him. “Why would you agree? What possible reason could you have—­”

“You, Petra,” he said quietly, exhaling a heavy sigh. “For your life.”

She faltered. “What?”

Emmerich took her hands into his. “Petra, if I refuse, you die. Those are his terms. That is why I agreed.” He pulled her close and held her there, less than a breath apart. Her body tensed as she searched his face, not willing to believe him. “I love you,” he whispered. “And I would do anything to keep you safe, to keep you alive, even if it meant watching the rest of the world burn.”

She stared into his blazing eyes. “You can't mean that.”

He gently raised his hand to her face and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered at her cheek, and he regarded her with a calculating gaze, his brows pulled together in deep concentration. Petra willed herself not to lean into his touch, trying to read the meaning behind his eyes—­it was not the look of a man who had given up.

“Emmerich—­”

Without warning he pulled her into a hug and held her close, his arms wrapped tightly around her. “Don't give up just yet,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “This isn't over.”

Mr. Goss wrenched them apart, glaring at his son, but Emmerich ignored him, his eyes focused entirely on her, a blaze of defiance in his gaze.

“Petra,” he said, “the Guild council has convicted you of your crimes. If you do not agree to work for my father, you will hang. Do you understand that?” He frowned, pressing his lips firmly together. “Don't be so quick to throw your life away. You have so much to live for, so much you still can do.” He stepped a bit closer, but his father pushed him back, keeping them apart. She could see the fire in his eyes as he strained not to fight back. “Petra, you always wanted to be a Guild engineer.
Now
is your chance.”

Mr. Goss narrowed his eyes and then turned his gaze on Petra. “Listen to my son, Miss Wade. Working for the Guild, you could build unimaginable machines. You could help us change the world through science. If you agree, I promise you a position within the Guild and full tuition paid for the University, to use in whatever study you wish. Isn't that what you want?”

Petra bowed her head to hide her racing thoughts. Emmerich still wanted her to fight. He hadn't given up. Her heart thundered in her ears as her gaze slipped to the open cabinet drawer a few feet away, a pistol glinting in the electric light. She inhaled a deep breath and raised her chin.

“Yes,” she whispered, eyes wide as she focused on the imposing figure of Julian Goss, her skin tingling as she clenched her hands into fists. “I do want a better future, but not like this.”

She dropped to the floor and grabbed the pistol from the drawer, cocking the hammer as she came to her feet, the gun aimed at Emmerich's father.

“Put that down, you stupid girl,” he growled.

“I'll shoot you,” she said, her voice wavering. “I swear it.” The gun trembled in her shaking hands, but she steeled herself against the fear, her heart beating a murderous drum against her ribs. She had to do this. It was the only way.

“If you kill me, you'll only be a murderer, as well as a traitor and a spy,” he spat.

“Maybe, but with you gone, the conspiracy ends. There will be no one to keep me from telling the Guild of your plans. They'll stop the factories from building the automatons. I can stop this war before it begins.”

Emmerich slowly inched across the office, reaching toward something on a nearby shelf.

“You think this ends with me?” Emmerich's father laughed. “You have no idea how deep this goes, Miss Wade.” He shook his head. “Accept that you are beaten. You've lost.”

She glanced at Emmerich, silently pleading for him to help, to do something, and with her attention shifted, Mr. Goss seized his chance and stepped forward.

Petra squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot rang through the room, followed by a clanging echo as the bullet sank into the metal wall behind the wooden paneling. Emmerich's father slapped his hand to his chest, but no blood seeped through his shirt. Petra stared at the gun, her fingers shaking as smoke rose from the barrel, her breath catching in her throat.

Then a flash of metal streaked behind Mr. Goss and collided with his head. The man collapsed to the floor, and his son threw the makeshift cudgel he was holding to the floor—­a gas grips. He clutched his arm below the shoulder and grimaced.

“Dammit, Petra,” Emmerich hissed. “You didn't have to
shoot
. I never would have let him hurt you.” He winced again, and blood seeped through his fingers, soaking his shirtsleeve.

Petra dropped the gun and rushed to his side. “You're hurt.”

“Of course I'm bloody well hurt. You
shot
me.”

“I didn't mean—­”

“Better me than him,” he said with a grunt of pain. Carefully, he untucked his shirt and ripped a long strip off the bottom, holding the cloth out for Petra. “Tie this around my arm.”

She obeyed, her shaking fingers wrapping the torn fabric around his wound. As she tied the ends of the cloth into a knot, he winced. “I'm sorry. I didn't—­”

“Petra,” he said, his voice tense. “I know. It's all right.” Releasing a heavy sigh, he gently brushed her hair from her face and kissed her on the cheek. “Now come on. We need to go before he wakes up.”

“Where?”

“Just trust me.”

S
HE AND
E
MMERICH
left his father unconscious in the floor of Lyndon's office and made for the lift at the end of the hall, the only one still working properly. But instead of taking the lift, Emmerich veered right, taking her down the stairs.

“I tried to send word for you this morning,” he said, gripping her hand as they descended the stairs. “But my father intercepted the message, locking me up in that closet when I confronted him. I think he knew we were in touch. He knew you'd come for me.” He exhaled sharply. “I played right into his hands.”

“Did you really agree to work for the Guild, after everything that's happened?”

Emmerich stopped midway down the second flight of stairs, his shoulders tense. “I did.”

“But
why
?”

He glanced up at her. “I meant what I said, Petra—­all of it. You may not like it, but I did what I did to protect you. Can't you understand that?”

“I don't need you to protect me.”

He started to say something but stopped himself, shaking his head.

“What?” she asked. “What were you going to say?”

Still shaking his head, he chuckled, a small smile spreading across his lips. “Only that you are the most stubborn, most infuriating, most
impossible
person I have ever met, and if you had any sense, you might realize that you don't have to do everything by yourself.” He looked into her eyes, his smile fading. “Petra, there are ­people who love you, ­people who want to keep you safe. Don't you understand that? I know you don't need protecting, I know you don't need
me
, but you don't have to reject me every time I try to help you. My father would have had you killed if I didn't agree. You think I
want
to help him? I just want to do my part to keep you safe.”