Engines of Obsession: Chapter 30

Chapter 30: Strange Bedfellows

"Blakely?!"

Turner blurted out the name in shock, staring right back into the sapphire gaze of the witch beneath him.

Beneath... him...

The words that she'd said finally registered, and Turner abruptly realized that he was tumbled atop the redhead in a very impolite manner. He didn’t blush, but he coughed politely and pushed himself up, hurriedly climbing to his feet. The shock of seeing her was too great for him to be too embarrassed, fortunately.

Nikandros stood nearby, staring uncertainly. He rubbed his chin, clearly thinking, but too cautious to make a move. He hadn't heard everything about this woman that Byron had, but Turner bet he knew more than enough to avoid rushing in.

Nora, on the other hand, kept looking all over, periodically returning her eyes to Anne. Once it seemed clear Blakely wasn't about to start a fight over the accident, she relaxed... at least as much as she could relax with the sound of battle clashing nearby.

"We just ran into your... gun-construct thing," Turner breathed. "Why are you letting it run wild in the city? That doesn't seem normal for you."

Anne didn't answer at first, quietly climbing to her feet. The angle gave Turner a view that would be a little scandalous, normally, with how the impact had caused Blakely's blouse to be in disarray. Turner wasn't without base desires, but his eyes were less focused on the curves and more on the glimpse he caught between them.

An angry, bright red scar - clean, precise, and clearly very deep - sat just to the left of her sternum.

Blakely's right arm, the one Milo had struck, was already fully healed. Not a hint of the compound fracture remained, not even a faint line of a scar. It was as if the horrific injury had never occurred. Yet the scar on her chest was so vivid it had drawn his eyes, making him question himself for a moment.

"That one is not one of mine," she replied, breaking into Turner's thoughts. The woman brushed herself clean, adjusted her blouse and bodice, and tried to make herself presentable. "Mine is the large lizardlike one, and I didn't just let it run wild. My shop was attacked by the... gun-construct, as you call it."

Nora frowned, "She's right, or at least probably telling the truth." Without taking her eyes off of Anne, Nora pointed toward the noise of battle. "I didn't feel any of the wrongness I normally feel with Blakely's constructs. It's either like Reginald, or something else."

For now, Turner was willing to believe that. Anne seemed fond of bronze and brass and steel, not to mention hers resembled organic beings. This latest one was overwhelmingly steel, and the design was squat and utilitarian. It was more like...

The memory of the broken device the Stonemans had showed him returned once more. This had to be connected to that, but did Anne even know about her competition?

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud CLUNK of something heavy hitting the cobblestones of the alleyway. A small figure had dropped from above while he was thinking, clad in a hooded cloak that hid most of its figure. Turner could tell the figure was small and slender, but it didn't move like Reginald. Which meant...

The cloak fluttered, and Turner caught a glimpse of a girlish figure, covered in simple linen and leather cloth fit for travel.

Then she spoke up and removed all doubt.

"Someone is controlling it from nearby, but they can't see through it," the girl's tinny, high-pitched voice spoke. It wasn't quite right, with some syllables not matching up perfectly, but was otherwise a pretty, feminine voice. Except that it was metallic and artificial. "The way it moves, it sometimes has to correct. I think they're viewing it externally."

Anne gathered up the satchel that had fallen when Turner ran into her. "Thank you, Penelope," she said. Her eyes darted to Turner, but she said nothing. She knew what Penelope meant to Turner.

She was right to worry. Turner's hand itched to snatch the sword he normally kept at his side. He knew that clockwork, high-pitched voice. He'd never seen her face, but he'd heard the tone... and her laughter.

This, right here, was the thing that had murdered his village.

Yet right now, he couldn't do anything about it. With great difficulty, he took a breath and unclenched his fist.

Penelope tilted her head just enough to peek out from beneath the hood, eyes glowing as she studied Turner and the others. Blue, shimmering eyes set in lenses resembled Reginald, but that's where the similarity ended.

Penny's face was sculpted copper, and realistic. High cheekbones, a slender jawline, and immaculate detail. The copper was polished, but for a few shades of greenish patina that gave the face depth rather than detracting from it. Her lips were segmented and surrounded by numerous lines, the thickest running back along her jaw, presumably so she could emulate mouth movements better than Reginald's simple puppet mouth. Turner couldn't see her forehead, but a wisp of coppery thread gave the impression of hair drifting across the girl's face.

It was disquieting, rather than being cute. She looked about thirteen years in age, but Turner knew this was a lie... and that she was far from innocent.

Anne broke the tension with a short introduction. "Penelope, this is the youth that broke through my wards, a Mister Turner. His companion there, the young Miss Graves, is a fledgling witch with some hint of talent. As for the other man-" She paused and then waved vaguely over her shoulder. "Probably not important."

"Rude," Nikandros muttered, but he also made no move. Turner wasn't sure how well-versed the man was in combat, but he clearly knew enough about Anne to keep himself non-aggressive.

Turner was more concerned about the fact that he'd never given his name, nor had he given Nora's.

"Awww," Penelope pouted. Her lips actually moved into a pursed expression, though they didn't have the animation needed to do more than give the impression. Her voice came through without her lips moving to match, eerily. "Are they in our way? I could take care of them!"

She started to say more, but Anne held up a hand. "No. I said quiet, remember? What you do on your own time is less of my concern, but here with me you will follow my rules. Need I remind you again?"

The copper construct shut her mouth and drew her hood to cover her eyes again. "Understood," came the lower-pitched, mechanical whine. The sulky construct stepped back into the shadows.

Turner kept staring after her, even as Anne began to speak.

"Now, it would seem we both want the same thing this time," the redheaded witch almost purred. "I prefer to keep a lower profile than this. Somehow, someone found my shop mere hours after we arrived. I was not inside when it was attacked, so the guardian naturally engaged, and matters... escalated."

When Turner snapped his attention back to her, the woman's brilliant blue eyes met his, piercing and unwavering. Nora shifted uncomfortably behind him, starting to speak, then swallowing the words.

"And what is it you think we want?" Turner asked. He knew he was taking the bait, but as always when he met with Anne, she had the advantage here.

Blakely smiled, "You wish for this battle to stop, as do I." She gestured toward the unseen street, where a loud crash and explosion was heard. "Yet, someone knew I was here. They know me, and I believe they are targeting me. If I should die or be incapacitated, however, the guardian will continue to fight."

It clicked then. "You want me to escort you to safety?" Turner tilted his head incredulously.

Yet Anne nodded with a simple adjustment of her skirts. "Indeed. Or, more precisely, escort me through danger." She pointed toward the battle again. "Through there. The shop is locked down, but if I can get close enough to it, I can manually trigger another locale shift. It will take a few minutes to perform, plenty of time for Penelope and myself to get inside."

Nora frowned in suspicion. "Why should we help you? We could also let you die and help defeat the guardian ourselves. For that matter, why do you need us?"

Anne's eyes snapped toward Nora, but her smile didn't falter. "Good questions. You could, but that is a risk, and Mister Turner is rather risk-averse, isn't he? If you do this, I will shut down the guardian before we leave, and will compensate you for your trouble." She held up a hand to forestall a complaint from Penelope.

"As for why I need your help... I do not," she admitted. "However it is more convenient. Penelope stands out, even in her cloak. While I performed some simple tricks for you before, that was in private. I prefer not to display such powers in public. A reputation would make it much more difficult to do business, especially if associated with my unfortunately obvious guardian."

Before Turner could fully consider the offer, Nikandros spoke. "My Lord's priority is the safety of the frontier's cities and citizens," he reminded. "I understand this is unpalatable for you, but if it can end this battle quickly, I would advise considering it."

That got the man a quick glance from Turner. He hadn't realized that the butler would be so quick to speak up, after his silence in the household, but it made sense. He did seem quite loyal to his employer. Then again Turner knew Byron was very generous with his pay.

"We don't have a lot of time," Nora said with a grimace. "We either leave them alone and try to fight the construct ourself, or we get them there quickly."

Turner understood what she was really saying. If they didn't help Anne, they would have to fight whatever was tearing up the city. This one sounded much larger than anything they'd fought before. Anne was offering a choice, but it wasn't really a choice.

He let out a breath. "Fine." Then, as he drew his revolver, he named a condition. "But Penelope doesn't fight."

Anne's smile returned, the pleasant look showing no hint of any hidden machinations.

"Agreed."