Lycans and Legends

Chapter 4: uNMasked Bandits

The bottom of the airship opened. Two guards in matching red uniforms slid down ropes hanging from the gear galley. A moment later, a small basket descended from the belly of the airship. Inside were Her Majesty and two additional guards. They were lowering her basket down to the museum steps.

She didn’t have far to go before she made it to the ground, but the ringing in my ears told me we were already too late.

I pulled my pistol and motioned to Harper. Both of us rushed to join the Queen.

Edwin, looking confused, hurried behind us.

A moment later, there was a massive crashing sound inside the museum.

A hush fell over the crowd.

Victoria’s balloon basket touched down, and the Queen quickly exited as everyone turned and looked back at the museum.

A moment later, the massive doors of the museum exploded in a shower of shards and metal as an automaton busted through. The giant mech, its eyes glowing yellow, turned and tromped in the direction of Her Majesty.

I didn’t have time to get distracted by the fact that the palms of my hands were tingly, that my hair was practically standing on edge, or the little voices I always heard were whispering to me. A machine was moving with deadly intent toward my Queen. And someone had to stop it.

The Bow Street Runners blew their whistles and began shouting over the panicked screaming of the crowd.

Victoria’s guards rushed to her. Two of them tried to direct her back toward the airship basket. The others coaxed her toward the platform, away from the lumbering hunk of metal headed her way.

Victoria scanned all around her, a look of frustration in her eyes. Her gaze met mine. She moved toward me.

“Not good,” Harper said, catching up with me. “Not good at all. You knew?”

“No. Well, not until it was too late,” I said as I raced toward Her Majesty.

I heard the sound of footsteps catching up with us as Edwin and Archibald Boatswain IV ran behind us.

“Whose brilliant idea was it to use Victoria as bait?” I called to Edwin.

He frowned. “Mine.”

“You, sir,” I said, calling to Master Boatswain. “Go back with the other Rude Mechanicals.” The illustrious group who’d been on the podium were being quickly ushered away by Hank and Cressida.

“You’re going to need my help, Agent. That automaton is a Scarlette-1000 model. It’s fully equipped to—” he began, but Master Boatswain’s words were cut short when the machine hurled something at the Queen’s airship. A moment later, there was an explosion. Her Majesty’s airship went up in flames.

“Hell’s bells,” I said, picking up the pace as I ran to Her Majesty.

“Agent Louvel,” Victoria called to me.

“Your Majesty, this way,” I said, motioning to her.

Frowning, Victoria glared at the automaton then looked back at Edwin. “Well, you were right.”

“Yes. But we didn’t expect that,” Edwin replied.

“There’s a driver in the machine. That’s the only way it can function. There’s someone operating it,” Master Boatswain said.

I stared at the automaton. There was someone—or something—inside.

“Edwin,” I said, giving him a knowing glance.

“I’ll go with Master Boatswain and stop the automaton. You and Harper get Her Majesty out of here,” Edwin told me.

“Would be helpful if I knew what was trying to kill her,” I said in a singsong.

“If we knew that, Agent Louvel, I wouldn’t be here,” Queen Victoria replied pertly. “Where do we go?”

“Tram under Tinker’s Hall?” Harper suggested.

I eyed the massive crowd that was running screaming toward Hungerford Market.

“No. The auto,” I said, tilting my chin in the direction toward which I’d left the steamauto. “That way.”

“Right. Come on,” Harper said then motioned to Victoria’s guards to follow.

As we rushed away from the scene, I looked back. The Red Capes who had been stationed inside the museum flooded out to help Edwin and Master Boatswain with the automaton which was still ambling toward us.

“This way,” I said, pointing down a dead-end alley.

“What?” Victoria protested. “Louvel, there is no exit.”

“The streets will be flooded. We need to go up,” I said, motioning to a ladder on the side of the building.

“Hurry, Your Majesty,” one of the guards said.

Harper raced ahead and pulled down the ladder. She nodded to me then turned and headed up, one of the guards following behind her.

“Will you be all right?” I asked Her Majesty who was wearing a dress so bulky it could have served as bedding.

“Dammit,” the Queen muttered then stopped. Yanking at the jeweled sash on her waist, she unfastened the skirt of the gown then unceremoniously tossed it aside. A moment later, Her Majesty stood before me in leather trousers. The sight was so shocking and scandalous, I paused. “Not a word out of you, Louvel,” she said then turned and followed the others up the ladder.

Behind us, I heard another explosion and the sound of screams. Whatever was chasing us, it was getting closer.

Victoria’s guard hurried up the ladder behind her. I followed them.

As I rushed to the top, the bottom of my feet started to itch, my hands feeling shaky and odd. A wave of nausea swept over me.

I hoisted myself up and onto the roof where the others waited.

“Which way?” Harper asked.

“There,” I said, pointing, but my stomach quaked. I looked back over the ledge of the building.

On the ground below, I saw a figured dressed in all black, his features covered by a hood. He glanced upward. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I saw a glimmer of bluish-silver in his eyes.

“What the hell?” I whispered. The creature moved toward the ladder. “Harper,” I called, warning in my voice. “We need to move. Now.” Glancing back toward the museum, I could see the automaton. It was still heading in our direction.

Harper looked at me, reading the expression on my face.

“Right,” she said. “Let’s go.” Harper turned and ran, the Queen and her guards following along behind her.

“Three blocks then down,” I called to Harper who nodded.

We rushed across the rooftops. At least I was back on familiar ground.

Her Majesty surprised me. She was always so decadently dressed, a picture of elegance and grace, even in the face of monsters such as Krampus. But that incident taught me that my Queen was no mere posh figurehead. She had practiced old, druidic magic, sending the monster back to his own world. And now, she was hustling along behind Harper, outpacing her guards in the effort.

We dashed across the roofs, jumping the small gaps between the buildings and scrambling over the ledges.

Clemeny…Clemeny…he’s coming.

I looked back to see the robed figure making his way quickly toward us.

He was fast.

Too fast.

“Hells bells. Harper, get Her Majesty out of here,” I called.

Harper stopped and looked back, her eyes going from me to the figure advancing on us.

“Clemeny?” Harper called.

“Go. Just go. Get her out of here. The auto is on Market Street.”

Harper frowned hard then nodded. “Your Majesty,” she said, motioning for Victoria to follow her.

The Queen hesitated. She narrowed her gaze, glaring at the figure rushing toward us.

“Please, Your Majesty, go with Harper,” I said then pulled my blade.

Relenting, Her Majesty and Harper turned, quickly hustling out of the way. One of her guards went with her, but another stayed behind.

“What in the hell is that?” the man asked.

“I don’t know, but we’re about to find out,” I said then pulled my pistol. Taking aim, I shot.

The creature moved quickly, swirling around a chimney pipe. The bullet struck the bricks, causing a blast of red dust. The assailant appeared once more on the other side.

I shot again.

And again.

Each time, the figure moved fast—too fast—getting out of the way of my shots in time.

Preternatural.

“That’s not possible,” the guard beside me whispered, then he advanced on the figure who had caught up with us. The guard swung hard, but the would-be assassin ducked. Swiping out his leg, the assailant knocked the Queen’s guard to the ground. He then pulled a dagger from his belt. The instrument had an odd blue shimmer all around it, a glow that I could only see with my mooneye.

“No,” I yelled then rushed forward, knocking the man off the guard before he could land a lethal blow.

The stranger spun and leaped to his feet.

His glowing eyes scanned across the rooftop where Harper was making her escape.

Seeing the figure momentarily distracted, the guard pulled his pistol and fired. The shot took the man’s attention away, and once again, the stranger moved quickly, dodging the bullet at the last moment. But his move had been clumsy. He was off balance.

Rushing forward, I kicked the assailant hard, knocking him sideways. He stumbled then fell.

Unsheathing my dagger, I rushed at him.

The figure leaped to his feet.

His hood fell back a little to reveal his long, white hair. The color of his locks was at odds with the youthful glow of his skin. But there was more. On his face were glowing blue shapes, swirling designs, like tattoos, that shimmered in the sunlight.

The man made a low, angry sound then lunged at me.

The thing about fighting werewolves is that one got used to their super-human strength. Werewolves were twice as strong, and usually twice as big, as any man. To fight a wolf, being petite was a benefit. I was small and fast. I didn’t need to be strong to fight a dumb mutt like Fenton. But I did need to be quick and smart.

The problem with fighting the opponent who now stood before me was that he was also lithe, agile, and sharp-witted.

Victoria’s guard, however, was not.

The guard swung at the man.

Apparently, the stranger had reached the end of his patience.

Muttering something under his breath, he turned and pushed the guard. I couldn’t help but see the sparkle at the tips of the opponent’s fingers, a little shimmer of blue, just before Victoria’s guard tumbled over the side of the building.

The man screamed.

The stranger looked back at me, sneered, then took off in a sprint after Victoria and Harper.

“Oh, like hell you will,” I said then turned and raced after him.

He was fast.

But now I was mad.

Something inside me lit up, filling me with warmth and light. There was no way in hell I was going to let this creature get past me. A warm feeling filled my stomach. It was a strange sensation, like something low and deep in the pit of my belly had awoken. I grabbed on to the feeling and used it to push myself forward.

Harper, Victoria, and the remaining guard had reached the end of the block.

I hurled myself toward the stranger, grabbing him and knocking him from his feet.

He quickly regained his footing. Jumping up, he moved to get away, but his face found my fist which was decked out in my silver knuckle-busters. I struck him. He staggered backward, then sneered, those bluish-silver eyes shimmering. Gripping his glowing blade, he advanced on me. I ducked and swept out a leg, knocking him to the ground. Grabbing my knife, I thrust.

The assailant sucked in a breath as the knife made contact. I had sliced his shoulder.

He winced.

I frowned. The silver knuckle-busters hadn’t burned him—though he hadn’t seemed to appreciate being whacked in the face—but my steel-and-silver blade had. This was a different kind of preternatural, something I had not seen before.

Taking the advantage, I punched him in the gut then knocked his blade from his hand.

On the street not far away, I heard the tell-tale squeal of tires.

The man spun away from me, but not before I grabbed his blade.

To my surprise, the cool metal glowed blue at my touch.

The stranger looked from the blade in my hand and back to me. He turned and listened to the sound of the escaping auto, his eyes narrowing in frustration as Harper and Victoria made their escape. There was no way he would catch them now.

He frowned hard, glaring at me, then turned and ran toward the edge of the building.

I rushed after him.

The stranger grabbed the ladder and slid down. When he reached the ground, he turned and looked up at me, glaring darkly. He then turned and rushed off upriver.

I knew where he was headed. There was a Dark District not far away. I raced down the ladder and into the city, running after him. My lungs burned.

It seemed like I was always running.

Why didn’t anything bad ever just saunter?

I caught sight of the man fleeing through the crowd as the Londoners stopped and stared. He glanced back at me.

I rushed after him.

The London streets narrowed as we neared the Dark District, a section of town dating back to the medieval period. The buildings clustered closer together, leaning toward one another at odd angles, blocking out the morning sunlight. The shops cast long shadows on the street. Gaslamps still flickered, illuminating the dim, gray space.

I stilled and tried to feel where the stranger had gone.

My instincts pulled me toward a dark, narrow alley.

I rushed in that direction in time to see the man’s cloak flutter as he turned the corner at the end of the alley.

Stashing the stranger’s dagger on my belt, I pulled my pistol. Ninety percent of whatever lived in the Dark District could be killed by a silver bullet, five-percent were already dead, and the rest needed a specialist. The odds were on my side.

Half-expecting the assassin to jump out at me, I turned the corner to find yet another dark alley, which I knew led to one of the uncompleted tunnels under the Thames. Aside from the success of the Brunel tunnel project farther upriver, digging tunnels under the Thames had turned out to be a terrible idea. They flooded, of course. The dark, earthen cavities were terrific places for terrible things to hide. I’d bet my good eye that was where he’d gone.

Keeping my pistol in front of me, I approached the tunnel. I scanned around me with my mooneye. There were other creatures here, dark things lingering in the alcoves and small rooms just off the entrance of the incomplete tunnel. They watched me closely.

My heart slammed in my chest.

Moving carefully, I stepped into the darkness of the tunnel.

I dug into my pocket with my free hand and pulled out the night optic goggles and slipped them on. Activating the switch, the world around me illuminated green for a moment.

Shadows moved everywhere.

I was definitely not alone.

Deep in the tunnel, a pair of glowing shining eyes looked back at me.

I raised my gun, aimed, and fired.

Hisses and whispered protests rose from the shadows around me. Then, I saw those glimmering eyes once more.

“I own the future, Clemeny Louvel,” the robed stranger called to me, his voice masculine but soft. It had a strange, menacing cadence.

A strange wind blew through the tunnel, carrying with it the dense scents of earth, loam, and smoke. It was a peculiar, putrid scent. The breeze ruffled my hair, blowing my cloak all around me.

And as suddenly as it came, the wind died.

He was gone.