Cold Copper

Epilogue

The 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.