The Girl in the Steel Corset
Page 3
Six months ago, an automaton had attacked him in the middle of a routine assignment and tore Sam apart. It had been brutal, a shock for them all to see their strongest member taken down like that. It had been Emily who’d saved him. Emily who’d put him back together. And sometimes when he looked at her, Griff suspected Sam had never quite forgiven her for it. In fact, when he looked at her now, the fingers of his right hand—the hand she’d repaired—twitched.
Emily saw it, too. Griff could tell because she quickly looked away, purposefully focusing on anything but Sam.
“We should have taken the girl to the hospital,” Sam muttered, leaning against the corner of a sofa. He rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand. “Bringing her here puts us all at risk. What if she’s a wanted criminal?”
Griff tilted his head. “I don’t think it would have been safe to take her to the hospital, for her or the staff.”
His friend raised a heavy brow, sarcasm written all over his face. “So you decided, ‘hell, why not bring her home with me?’ Well done.”
His doubt irked Griff, who wasn’t accustomed to being questioned. Still, he could understand Sam’s misgivings. “You said so yourself—she was scared of something, or someone,” he replied. “I’m certain that’s the August-Raynes crest on her corset.” It was common now for domestic servants to wear their master’s crests on their clothing, like the livery worn by footmen.
“He’s one of the richest men in England!” Sam’s tone was incredulous. “Are you sure he’s someone you want to cross?”
Griff smiled. “Don’t you read the scandal sheets, Sam? Supposedly I am the richest man in England. Surely that makes me more formidable? Besides, I’ve a notion it’s not the father I’d be crossing.”
“Who, then?”
Griff’s own blue gaze locked with pitch-black. “Remember that girl in Whitechapel last winter? The one who had been raped by her employer and tossed out when he discovered she was pregnant with his child?”
Sam nodded, jaw clenched.
Griff inclined his head. “Lord Felix August-Rayne, his lordship’s youngest. He’s gotten in with the Dandies and seems to have developed a habit of abusing his servants, and anyone else he considers beneath him.”
“Do you…?” Emily paused, face white as she glanced toward the door, as though afraid the girl upstairs could hear. “Do you think he hurt her?”
Griff shot her a sympathetic glance. He didn’t know much about Emily’s past, but guessed that she’d had her share of unpleasantness. She had been quick to accept his offer of employment, as though she couldn’t wait to leave her old life behind. “I don’t know.”
“It’s not safe having her here,” Sam insisted, trying to bash Griff with his will once more. “For her, or for us. We can’t afford to call attention to ourselves. Not with those…things out there.” His voice cracked on things. They all heard it. They all ignored it.
He meant the machines. Most were perfectly harmless, but there was nothing quite as frightening as metal out of control. That was why Griff had the remains of Sam’s mechanical attacker in Emily’s workshop, so they could figure out what had happened to turn an uncomplicated underground railway digger into a murderer. It had attacked five people—only Sam survived.
“What would you have me do, Sam?” Griff ran a hand through the thick mass of his hair. “Toss her out like rubbish?”
Sam’s mouth opened and Griff knew he was going to suggest just that.
Emily jumped in, “You know we can’t keep her for long, lad. She isn’t…one of us.”
Griff’s mouth lifted on one side, a half grin he always got when he thought he was right. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“What does that mean?” Sam scowled. “Why do you have to be so damn cryptic all the time?”
Sam’s frustration was so strong Griff could almost taste it. He’d known the big lad long enough to know when he was spoiling for a fight, and he also knew that, physically, he was no match. Sam was the strongest person in Britain, perhaps the world. But Griffin had his own powers that didn’t require brute strength.
He could become one with the Aether, that mysterious indiscernible force that was everywhere and in everything. It was also the realm of the dead—where ghosts existed. It was like another dimension hidden within the normal world. He didn’t know why, but he could feel it in his veins, and when he called it, the most terrific power came forth to serve him. All that universal energy filled him, making him feel as though he was part of everything and somehow everywhere. Sometimes it scared him. So much so, that he hadn’t confided any of it to his friends.
Nor had he confided just how much he believed the terrible power took from him.
Instead of giving Sam the fight he wanted, Griff turned to Emily, which just annoyed the bigger boy all the more. Wisely though, Sam held his tongue. Emily had been silent all this time, watching and listening. She nodded at him—on his side as he believed she would be.
“Did you see how she ran through the park?” he asked Sam, finally looking at his friend.
The large boy scowled. “No. I didn’t notice her at all until we were upon her.”
“Exactly.” Griff’s gaze traveled to each of them as he continued. “One second all was well and the next she was in front of us. I had barely sensed a disturbance in the Aether before I hit her. No normal human could move that fast.”
“What the hell is she, then?” Sam demanded, his fists clenched tight at his sides.
Griff shrugged. “I have no idea. But the three of us should find out, shouldn’t we?”
“Cordelia isn’t going to like this,” Emily reminded them. Griff’s aunt wasn’t due back from Yorkshire until the day after tomorrow. She was up there investigating strange circles that had appeared in a farmer’s field.
“It’s not her house, nor her decision,” Griff reminded her.
Emily held his gaze. He’d always admired her backbone. “If she is different, then it’s our duty to help her.”
Sam shot her a dark look, then one at Griff, as well. “The two of you are too bloody trusting. Being different doesn’t make her good any more than being metal makes one of those monsters a toaster.”
Normally Griff would have laughed at such an absurd comment, but the door to the library burst open at that exact moment. It was the housekeeper, Mrs. Dodsworth.
“What is it?” Griff asked, stepping forward with a frown. The woman was positively white in the face. Had one of the few automated servants left in the house turned on them? After Sam’s attack, Griff had decommissioned many of the machines out of consideration for his friend and for the safety of every living creature under his responsibility.
“It’s the girl you brung home, Your Grace. I think you should come right away. It’s as if she’s got the very devil in her!”
Griff took off running. Emily and Sam followed, chasing him up the stairs to the room where the girl had been left sleeping just a short time ago. A man came flying out of the open door frame like a child’s toy tossed aside. Sam caught him before he could hit the wall.
“Thank you, Master Samuel,” the footman said in a shaking voice as Sam set him on his feet. “I thought she was going to kill me. She’s like a demon, she is!”
Sam’s mouth tightened as he lifted his gaze to Griff’s. “I told you so.”
Chapter 3
Griff ignored his best friend’s taunt and turned his back on his friends. What in the name of all that was holy had he brought into his house? What kind of girl could hurl a full-grown man?
From the sounds of it, she was definitely angry. He couldn’t quite make out all the words, but the ones he could were…colorful.
“I’ve met dockside trollops with cleaner mouths,” Sam snarled.
“Met many of those, have you?” Emily’s tone was sharp.
Griff shot both of them an annoyed glance and turned to the open doorway once more. He wasn’t offended by her vocabulary, just surprised by it. It made him all the more curious about her.
Taking a deep breath, he walked into the room, confident without having to look that his friends were with him. Out of habit, he tugged on his waistcoat, straightening it. He should have put on a coat and tried to look more lordly, but he’d never been very good at that. His real strength wasn’t in intimidation. It was in subtlety and confidence. And in the fact that people tended to know who he was.
He didn’t bother to knock. Quite frankly, he thought better of announcing his arrival. The less time she had to prepare, the better. As it was, he narrowly missed being brained by a candlestick. It whipped past his head to embed itself in the opposite wall.
“Oy,” he said roughly. “Is that any way to act when you’re a guest in someone’s home?”
“Guest? You mean, prisoner,” came the growled reply.
The girl stood in the center of the large four-poster bed. She wore a nightgown and robe that Cordelia had generously, and unknowingly, donated. Anything of Emily’s would have been far too short and too small. Her honey-colored hair fell over her shoulders in messy waves and her similarly colored eyes were almost black with wildness, her pupils unnaturally dilated.
Fear. He felt it roll off her in great waves. It shimmered around her in a rich red aura Griff knew he alone could see, as it was viewable only on the Aetheric plane. She was afraid of them and, like a trapped animal, her answer to fear was to fight rather than flee. Interesting.
She was certainly a sight to behold. Normally she was probably quite pretty, but right now she was…she was…
She was bloody magnificent. That’s what she was. Except for the blood, of course. She’d opened the wound on her forehead and blood was trickling down toward her nose.
“What have you done to me?” Blood covered her hands as she held them out to him, not in supplication, but to make him acknowledge the mess. “Why do I feel like maggots are crawling beneath my skin?”
“The Organites,” Griffin whispered to Emily. She had come to stand on his left. “Is it possible for her to feel them?”
“I don’t know,” Emily replied in a hushed voice, her gaze glued to the girl on the bed. “She shouldn’t.”
“Organites?” the girl snarled. She looked at her hands, the sticky crimson fingers. “You mean, this excrement you smeared on me?”
She’d heard? Griff tilted his head in silent contemplation. So not only was she fast and strong, but she had heightened hearing, as well. It made him wonder if all of her senses were so acute.
“It’s to help you heal,” he informed her softly. “And now you’ve made it worse.”
She mocked him by jerking her head to the side, mirroring how he regarded her. Then, she straightened and took a step forward on the bed. She was like a cat inching toward a mouse.
It happened quickly. Sam, as he always did, stepped between Griffin and what he perceived to be a threat. Did he think Griff incapable of defending himself, like a weakling?
The girl only smiled that off-kilter smile and then lunged. Her hands came down on Sam’s head and she neatly leapfrogged over him, landing right in front of Griff.
The others instantly went into combat mode, especially Sam, who whirled around with fists raised. Brave little Emily had produced a wicked-looking dagger from somewhere on her person. Griff held up his hand. “Stand down.”
They did as he commanded, but only to the extent that they didn’t intervene. He knew that if this girl so much as sneezed on him, she would be sorry.
“So you’re the leader of this lot, Rich Boy?” She sneered as her gaze raked over the others before returning to him—she was clearly unimpressed. “You don’t look so special.”
“You’re looking in the wrong place,” he replied with a hint of a smile. “Look into my eyes.”
And she did. They always did. It never occurred to anyone that looking into his eyes was the last thing they should do. He let his guard down, letting the Aether take him a little bit deeper into its realm. The girl’s aura poured around him and he seized it—not with his hands, but with that part of him that could bend this strange element to his will. Quickly, he forced the color to change from anger to peacefulness and finally to the tranquil glow of restfulness. His power flowed around her just before her mental defenses slammed shut. Whatever she was, her instincts were fast.
But not fast enough in this case.
She swayed. Staggered a little. One thin, bloody hand grabbed his shoulder. “What…? What have you done to me?”
“You need to relax,” he told her in a low voice. “I’m going to help you do that.”
She stared at him, eyes wide now, the fear pouring off her like water from a spout. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. “Don’t take me back. Please! I don’t know what he’ll do to me.”
So his suspicions were correct. She had been a victim.
“I won’t,” he promised, all the while gently forcing his own calm into her. “You’re safe here.” Her defenses faltered, and he slipped inside once more.
She staggered again and seized his other shoulder, as well. He supported much of her weight now, but she wasn’t that heavy. Besides, the Aether gave him strength. He watched as her eyes changed—pupils shrinking until all that was left was warm gold. Much of the wildness left her features, and as her knees gave out she actually smiled at him.
“Thank you,” she whispered. And then her eyes rolled back into their sockets.
Emily saw it, too. Griff could tell because she quickly looked away, purposefully focusing on anything but Sam.
“We should have taken the girl to the hospital,” Sam muttered, leaning against the corner of a sofa. He rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand. “Bringing her here puts us all at risk. What if she’s a wanted criminal?”
Griff tilted his head. “I don’t think it would have been safe to take her to the hospital, for her or the staff.”
His friend raised a heavy brow, sarcasm written all over his face. “So you decided, ‘hell, why not bring her home with me?’ Well done.”
His doubt irked Griff, who wasn’t accustomed to being questioned. Still, he could understand Sam’s misgivings. “You said so yourself—she was scared of something, or someone,” he replied. “I’m certain that’s the August-Raynes crest on her corset.” It was common now for domestic servants to wear their master’s crests on their clothing, like the livery worn by footmen.
“He’s one of the richest men in England!” Sam’s tone was incredulous. “Are you sure he’s someone you want to cross?”
Griff smiled. “Don’t you read the scandal sheets, Sam? Supposedly I am the richest man in England. Surely that makes me more formidable? Besides, I’ve a notion it’s not the father I’d be crossing.”
“Who, then?”
Griff’s own blue gaze locked with pitch-black. “Remember that girl in Whitechapel last winter? The one who had been raped by her employer and tossed out when he discovered she was pregnant with his child?”
Sam nodded, jaw clenched.
Griff inclined his head. “Lord Felix August-Rayne, his lordship’s youngest. He’s gotten in with the Dandies and seems to have developed a habit of abusing his servants, and anyone else he considers beneath him.”
“Do you…?” Emily paused, face white as she glanced toward the door, as though afraid the girl upstairs could hear. “Do you think he hurt her?”
Griff shot her a sympathetic glance. He didn’t know much about Emily’s past, but guessed that she’d had her share of unpleasantness. She had been quick to accept his offer of employment, as though she couldn’t wait to leave her old life behind. “I don’t know.”
“It’s not safe having her here,” Sam insisted, trying to bash Griff with his will once more. “For her, or for us. We can’t afford to call attention to ourselves. Not with those…things out there.” His voice cracked on things. They all heard it. They all ignored it.
He meant the machines. Most were perfectly harmless, but there was nothing quite as frightening as metal out of control. That was why Griff had the remains of Sam’s mechanical attacker in Emily’s workshop, so they could figure out what had happened to turn an uncomplicated underground railway digger into a murderer. It had attacked five people—only Sam survived.
“What would you have me do, Sam?” Griff ran a hand through the thick mass of his hair. “Toss her out like rubbish?”
Sam’s mouth opened and Griff knew he was going to suggest just that.
Emily jumped in, “You know we can’t keep her for long, lad. She isn’t…one of us.”
Griff’s mouth lifted on one side, a half grin he always got when he thought he was right. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“What does that mean?” Sam scowled. “Why do you have to be so damn cryptic all the time?”
Sam’s frustration was so strong Griff could almost taste it. He’d known the big lad long enough to know when he was spoiling for a fight, and he also knew that, physically, he was no match. Sam was the strongest person in Britain, perhaps the world. But Griffin had his own powers that didn’t require brute strength.
He could become one with the Aether, that mysterious indiscernible force that was everywhere and in everything. It was also the realm of the dead—where ghosts existed. It was like another dimension hidden within the normal world. He didn’t know why, but he could feel it in his veins, and when he called it, the most terrific power came forth to serve him. All that universal energy filled him, making him feel as though he was part of everything and somehow everywhere. Sometimes it scared him. So much so, that he hadn’t confided any of it to his friends.
Nor had he confided just how much he believed the terrible power took from him.
Instead of giving Sam the fight he wanted, Griff turned to Emily, which just annoyed the bigger boy all the more. Wisely though, Sam held his tongue. Emily had been silent all this time, watching and listening. She nodded at him—on his side as he believed she would be.
“Did you see how she ran through the park?” he asked Sam, finally looking at his friend.
The large boy scowled. “No. I didn’t notice her at all until we were upon her.”
“Exactly.” Griff’s gaze traveled to each of them as he continued. “One second all was well and the next she was in front of us. I had barely sensed a disturbance in the Aether before I hit her. No normal human could move that fast.”
“What the hell is she, then?” Sam demanded, his fists clenched tight at his sides.
Griff shrugged. “I have no idea. But the three of us should find out, shouldn’t we?”
“Cordelia isn’t going to like this,” Emily reminded them. Griff’s aunt wasn’t due back from Yorkshire until the day after tomorrow. She was up there investigating strange circles that had appeared in a farmer’s field.
“It’s not her house, nor her decision,” Griff reminded her.
Emily held his gaze. He’d always admired her backbone. “If she is different, then it’s our duty to help her.”
Sam shot her a dark look, then one at Griff, as well. “The two of you are too bloody trusting. Being different doesn’t make her good any more than being metal makes one of those monsters a toaster.”
Normally Griff would have laughed at such an absurd comment, but the door to the library burst open at that exact moment. It was the housekeeper, Mrs. Dodsworth.
“What is it?” Griff asked, stepping forward with a frown. The woman was positively white in the face. Had one of the few automated servants left in the house turned on them? After Sam’s attack, Griff had decommissioned many of the machines out of consideration for his friend and for the safety of every living creature under his responsibility.
“It’s the girl you brung home, Your Grace. I think you should come right away. It’s as if she’s got the very devil in her!”
Griff took off running. Emily and Sam followed, chasing him up the stairs to the room where the girl had been left sleeping just a short time ago. A man came flying out of the open door frame like a child’s toy tossed aside. Sam caught him before he could hit the wall.
“Thank you, Master Samuel,” the footman said in a shaking voice as Sam set him on his feet. “I thought she was going to kill me. She’s like a demon, she is!”
Sam’s mouth tightened as he lifted his gaze to Griff’s. “I told you so.”
Chapter 3
Griff ignored his best friend’s taunt and turned his back on his friends. What in the name of all that was holy had he brought into his house? What kind of girl could hurl a full-grown man?
From the sounds of it, she was definitely angry. He couldn’t quite make out all the words, but the ones he could were…colorful.
“I’ve met dockside trollops with cleaner mouths,” Sam snarled.
“Met many of those, have you?” Emily’s tone was sharp.
Griff shot both of them an annoyed glance and turned to the open doorway once more. He wasn’t offended by her vocabulary, just surprised by it. It made him all the more curious about her.
Taking a deep breath, he walked into the room, confident without having to look that his friends were with him. Out of habit, he tugged on his waistcoat, straightening it. He should have put on a coat and tried to look more lordly, but he’d never been very good at that. His real strength wasn’t in intimidation. It was in subtlety and confidence. And in the fact that people tended to know who he was.
He didn’t bother to knock. Quite frankly, he thought better of announcing his arrival. The less time she had to prepare, the better. As it was, he narrowly missed being brained by a candlestick. It whipped past his head to embed itself in the opposite wall.
“Oy,” he said roughly. “Is that any way to act when you’re a guest in someone’s home?”
“Guest? You mean, prisoner,” came the growled reply.
The girl stood in the center of the large four-poster bed. She wore a nightgown and robe that Cordelia had generously, and unknowingly, donated. Anything of Emily’s would have been far too short and too small. Her honey-colored hair fell over her shoulders in messy waves and her similarly colored eyes were almost black with wildness, her pupils unnaturally dilated.
Fear. He felt it roll off her in great waves. It shimmered around her in a rich red aura Griff knew he alone could see, as it was viewable only on the Aetheric plane. She was afraid of them and, like a trapped animal, her answer to fear was to fight rather than flee. Interesting.
She was certainly a sight to behold. Normally she was probably quite pretty, but right now she was…she was…
She was bloody magnificent. That’s what she was. Except for the blood, of course. She’d opened the wound on her forehead and blood was trickling down toward her nose.
“What have you done to me?” Blood covered her hands as she held them out to him, not in supplication, but to make him acknowledge the mess. “Why do I feel like maggots are crawling beneath my skin?”
“The Organites,” Griffin whispered to Emily. She had come to stand on his left. “Is it possible for her to feel them?”
“I don’t know,” Emily replied in a hushed voice, her gaze glued to the girl on the bed. “She shouldn’t.”
“Organites?” the girl snarled. She looked at her hands, the sticky crimson fingers. “You mean, this excrement you smeared on me?”
She’d heard? Griff tilted his head in silent contemplation. So not only was she fast and strong, but she had heightened hearing, as well. It made him wonder if all of her senses were so acute.
“It’s to help you heal,” he informed her softly. “And now you’ve made it worse.”
She mocked him by jerking her head to the side, mirroring how he regarded her. Then, she straightened and took a step forward on the bed. She was like a cat inching toward a mouse.
It happened quickly. Sam, as he always did, stepped between Griffin and what he perceived to be a threat. Did he think Griff incapable of defending himself, like a weakling?
The girl only smiled that off-kilter smile and then lunged. Her hands came down on Sam’s head and she neatly leapfrogged over him, landing right in front of Griff.
The others instantly went into combat mode, especially Sam, who whirled around with fists raised. Brave little Emily had produced a wicked-looking dagger from somewhere on her person. Griff held up his hand. “Stand down.”
They did as he commanded, but only to the extent that they didn’t intervene. He knew that if this girl so much as sneezed on him, she would be sorry.
“So you’re the leader of this lot, Rich Boy?” She sneered as her gaze raked over the others before returning to him—she was clearly unimpressed. “You don’t look so special.”
“You’re looking in the wrong place,” he replied with a hint of a smile. “Look into my eyes.”
And she did. They always did. It never occurred to anyone that looking into his eyes was the last thing they should do. He let his guard down, letting the Aether take him a little bit deeper into its realm. The girl’s aura poured around him and he seized it—not with his hands, but with that part of him that could bend this strange element to his will. Quickly, he forced the color to change from anger to peacefulness and finally to the tranquil glow of restfulness. His power flowed around her just before her mental defenses slammed shut. Whatever she was, her instincts were fast.
But not fast enough in this case.
She swayed. Staggered a little. One thin, bloody hand grabbed his shoulder. “What…? What have you done to me?”
“You need to relax,” he told her in a low voice. “I’m going to help you do that.”
She stared at him, eyes wide now, the fear pouring off her like water from a spout. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. “Don’t take me back. Please! I don’t know what he’ll do to me.”
So his suspicions were correct. She had been a victim.
“I won’t,” he promised, all the while gently forcing his own calm into her. “You’re safe here.” Her defenses faltered, and he slipped inside once more.
She staggered again and seized his other shoulder, as well. He supported much of her weight now, but she wasn’t that heavy. Besides, the Aether gave him strength. He watched as her eyes changed—pupils shrinking until all that was left was warm gold. Much of the wildness left her features, and as her knees gave out she actually smiled at him.
“Thank you,” she whispered. And then her eyes rolled back into their sockets.
