The eccentrics knight wa.., p.3
The Eccentrics (Knight Watch Book 3), page 3
“That was fast,” I said as Esther disembarked. “I thought we were supposed to be the magic ones around here.”
“You’d be amazed what Gabby can do with five hundred horsepower and an air raid siren,” Esther answered. She was wearing her Knight Watch fatigues, a mix of olive drab coveralls and high-tech metal armor, short sword on one hip and 9mm on the other. The MA operatives who followed her were dressed similarly, with an emphasis on traditional firearms and terse commands. MA’s job was to keep us safe from mundane interference, be that curious journalists or angry criminals whose Unreal boss just got ganked by a kid in plate armor. Gabrielle Rodriguez was with them. She was technically my minder, personally assigned to watching over my parents. I think my mom believed we were dating, though why she thought a military-grade black woman with a shaved head would be interested in a sap like me was a complete mystery. Maternal optimism is endless. Esther shouldered her way through the Knight Watch team and stared nervously at the storefront. “Your Tell said something about a major anomalous incursion into the Unreal. What are we looking at? Ogres at a CrossFit? Succubi massage parlor?”
“Goblins in top hats,” Chesa said. “With guns.”
“Uh . . . what?”
“We were clearing out a hive of goblins in that used bookstore over there. Everything was going fine, until one of the goblins crawled out of the rubble in fancy dress with some kind of shoulder-mounted derringer.” I tapped the hole in my shoulder. “I thought firearms weren’t supposed to be able to pierce the Unreal. I feel pretty darn pierced.”
“Well, you’re a never-ending conundrum, Rast,” Esther said, looking over my shoulder at the bookstore. “Might be a one-shot adventure gone rogue. Any of you break protocols recently? Secretly eating processed foods or shaving with alternating current?”
“Everyone is within protocols, Esther,” Tembo said. “I did a scan before we deployed. We’re securely medieval.”
“Huh. Well, did you at least clear out the goblins?” she asked.
“Yeah, but then these other guys showed up. They seemed to know who we were. Guy inside claims to be Nikola Tesla,” I said. “Looks like he might have stolen the dangerous bits off an electric generator and strapped them to his back.”
“Oh, gods, no. Not the Society.” Esther winced and glanced over my shoulder, like she was dodging a clingy ex. “Did they bring that stupid train?”
“Train? No. But three of them walked through a door made of lightning.”
“Yeah, that’s Nik, alright. Explains the top hats. Who else is with him? That creepy chick with the mechanical spiders in her hair? Or Reverend Dynamo?”
“I didn’t get anyone else’s name,” I said. “They insulted our lack of hygiene, then asked for our help. We pulled back and dropped you a Tell.” Short for psychic telegram, a trick Tembo picked up some time back. Only to be used in emergencies, since it apparently disrupted cell service, along with turning all the water in its path into chicken broth. “So you know this guy?”
“Unfortunately.” Esther folded her arms and nodded to the door. “Looks like they’re coming out.”
The doors to Dog-eared Discount Books opened, and Tesla emerged, flanked by the gunslinger and her bulky friend. The plague doctor scuttled along behind, head twitching back and forth like a curious insect’s. Tesla threw his arms wide and smiled.
“Esther MacRae! So glad I’ve finally found you. The Watch is incredibly difficult to get a hold of. Have you given any thought to installing that telegraph device I proposed?” When he reached us, he embraced our commanding officer. I was too shocked to react. The concept of hugging Esther MacRae was too much to consider. Esther stood stiff as a board as the thin man’s arms wrapped around her head. “Ah, you smell like burnt strawberries.”
“And you smell like lightning and old tweed.” Esther squirmed out of the embrace. “What’s your team doing on the wrong side of the border? We were on a routine patrol when things started going all clockwork and top hats in there. Sounds like you’ve got some explaining to do.”
“It’s a matter of some delicacy, Esther. We need to employ the services of Knight Watch. It’s quite urgent. My entire team is spread out, searching for you, trying to make contact. I have agents in every county fair and knife shop this side of the Gray Havens. The Good Doctor was the first to report a promising encounter.” Tesla tipped his head at the plague doctor. “We employed the electro-port immediately.”
“Well, pull ’em out. I can’t imagine what sort of havoc your team is causing in my world. What are you thinking, risking the Unreal like that? The timelines are isolated. That’s the whole point of this operation.” The MA operatives were spreading out in a military cordon, encircling our position. The gunslinger flanking Tesla tapped her bulky companion on the shoulder, and two of them shifted slightly, as though they were preparing to fight. I wondered if we were about to get into a tussle with the nineteenth century. Esther seemed oblivious to the escalation. “We shouldn’t even be having this conversation. There are protocols in place.”
“I am well aware of your precious protocols, Esther. I helped form them,” Nik said sharply. At his side, the gunslinger loosened the revolver at her hip. “If it weren’t for me, we’d have another Henry Ford incident.”
“Oh, you love bringing up Ford and his damned séances!” Esther spat. “Well, how about Zeppelin and his love affair with that djinn, eh? What about that?”
“You know, as much as I enjoy watching the two of you stand in a parking lot yelling at one another, I think we’re all due an explanation,” I said, cutting between them. “I have no idea what’s going on, or why you’re both on the verge of violence, but it’s obvious that you know each other. So maybe you could clue the rest of us in? You know, before someone else gets shot.”
Both Esther and Tesla grimaced at me, before turning their energy back to scowling at one another. I sighed and extended my hand to the lanky electromage.
“I’ll start. Hi, I’m John Rast. I’m the tank. This is Chesa, Gregory, and Tembo.” My hand hung in the air between us, un-shook. I turned away from Tesla and presented myself to the gun-toting riverboat gambler. “I take it you’re the DPS? Or do you do things differently on your team?”
“Very differently,” she said, looking me up and down. “We take showers, for a start.”
“You know, the hygiene jokes are getting a little old. At least I have some history behind me. Where’d you get your costume? Fall into a vat of glue and roll around the inside of a grandfather clock for a while?”
“Careful, child.” The woman bristled. “You’re wearing a lot of metal to be insulting a friend of Nikola Tesla.”
“I just think we’re all being equally weird, here, and there’s no reason weird people shouldn’t get along,” I said. “The real world sucks enough without geeks going for each other’s throats all the time.”
“At least we’re in agreement on that,” Tesla said, smiling grimly. He put a hand on the gunslinger’s shoulder. “As well as how important the protocols are that isolate us from one another. I hope that makes clear how dire our situation has become.”
“Fine. If something has spooked you badly enough to seek us out, it must be serious,” Esther said. “I have some forms for everyone to fill out.”
Tesla smiled stiffly at Esther. “Good to see you’re still as daintily truculent as ever. How is Clarence?”
“Retired. Along with everyone else you knew. Whole new team.” Esther relaxed. “What about you? Josiah still driving you insane?”
“Alas, dear Josiah has passed from this world. He’s set up shop on Venus, last time I checked. And Cleopatra broke her promise to Anansi. It wasn’t pretty. How about—”
“We’re not here to reminisce about old names, Nik. In fact, the last time we talked, I think you threatened to drop a bomb on Mundane Actual if I ever screwed with your timeline again. So.” Esther cocked her head, looking down her oft-broken nose at Tesla, which was quite a feat considering how much taller he was. “What brings you to the Unreal?”
“It’s best we discuss it in private, if possible. There are certain aspects that are, um, sensitive.” Tesla cast a disapproving eye over the Knight Watch team. “If possible, we should adjourn to the Silverhawk. Talk about old times.”
“Old times are over, Nik,” Esther said.
“Not for us, they’re not. I think that’s the point, isn’t it?”
For a long moment, it seemed like Esther would turn him away. Then she let out a long, exasperated sigh. “The Silverhawk, then. Safer than bringing the rest of you into Mundane Actual.”
“What the hell’s a silver hawk?” I asked.
“It is better to show than to tell. Don’t the bibliomancers say that?” Tesla swept his arms toward the sky and gestured to a gray smudge, descending from the clouds.
The gray smudge resolved into a flat tube against the low-lying clouds. As it drew closer, I could make out the sleek prow of a vessel, its sides reflecting the sunlight in shades of brass and silver and gold. The overall shape of the vessel was like a humpback whale, down to fins that paddled the air. A series of smokestacks bristled down its dorsal spine, though whatever exhaust they released was invisible at this distance. Glass observation decks hung from sponson terraces above the fins, and a much larger glass dome crowned the top of the ship, about one-third of the way down the length. My first impression was of tremendous size, but as it settled onto the grass next to Naglfr, I realized it wasn’t much larger than a really nice yacht, maybe thirty or forty yards in length, though it was easily ten yards tall.
The airship didn’t land so much as hover a few feet off the ground, wafting back and forth like a balloon on a string. Several figures watched us from the sponson deck on this side of the vessel (port? Starside? I’m not a water person), but the first sign of movement came from the front of the ship. A hidden port irised open and a set of ornate stairs rolled down, each step articulated by a set of hissing pistons that flexed to keep it level, even as the ship rose and fell slightly in the breeze.
“Oh, cool. You have a zeppelin!” I exclaimed.
“It is not a bloody zeppelin!” Tesla said sharply. “Kids these days, calling everything that flies a bloody zeppelin. You’d think the Hindenburg was a mild sunburn.” He stomped aggressively up the stairs, followed by the rest of his team. Esther shot me a warning look.
“He’s sensitive about the nomenclature,” she said. “Whatever you do, don’t talk about alternating current or lightbulbs.”
“Seems like an odd trigger, but okay.”
“Gabbie, make sure no one gets near that longship,” Esther called over her shoulder. “Maybe deploy some tactical deodorant to mask the smell. We don’t want to draw the attention of the EPA.”
“Aye, Chief,” Gabriella said, turning to bark orders at her troops. The rest of us followed Esther up into the belly of the flying clockwork whale
CHAPTER FOUR
The interior of the airship looked like a cross between a clock with all the parts on the outside, and the set of a Victorian-era murder mystery, complete with suspicious characters lurking in the shadows. Bloodred carpet lined the corridors, with wood paneling on the walls and stained-glass wall sconces every few yards. But these ornate surroundings were interrupted by steel bulkheads, rows of brass pipes that burrowed through the dark wood paneling, and the steady thrum of engines underfoot. Crew members in pinstripe suits scurried through the halls, all of them wearing top hats and goggles. Curiously, they all had bushy mustaches as well. Even the women.
“It can be a bit cramped, especially when we’re all on duty, but I think it’s homey enough. Certainly more comfortable than Eiffel’s ridiculous meditation chamber.” Tesla gestured down one passageway as he led us to a set of wrought iron spiral stairs. “Control room is that way, crew quarters downstairs. But the real gem is up here.”
“I still say you should establish something more secure,” Esther muttered as we wound our way up the stairs. “What happens if this thing goes down?”
“Counterpoint, Ms. MacRae: What happens if one of your sword-toothed nasties finds its way into your hole in the ground? I imagine a dracolich could do a lot of damage in the halls of Mundane Actual. If we’re attacked, we can just fly away. You, on the other hand, must stand and fight.”
“That would never happen,” Esther said. I bit my tongue, because that’s precisely what had happened when my friend Eric tricked his way into Mundane Actual and nearly destroyed our base of operations. “Besides, you can’t run forever. You have to fight sometime.”
“We’re more than capable,” the gunslinger said. She trailed behind us, one hand eternally resting on the handle of her complicated revolver. “Anything that finds its way aboard the Silverhawk would have a hard time getting back off alive.”
“Lady speaks truth,” her companion said quietly. His voice was surprisingly gentle, though it carried a whistling mechanical quality that was slightly unnerving. “We’re more than capable.”
“Here we are!” Tesla said as we reached the top of the stairs. The stairs led to a circular observation deck on the top of the airship, encased in a dome of iron latticework and glass. The deck itself looked like a formal drawing room, with leather chairs and low tables lined with felt. The air smelled like cigar smoke and spilled brandy. “It’s more impressive in flight, of course, but you can use your imagination. Adelaide spends a lot of time up here, brooding and writing poetry. Don’t you, my dear?”
The gun-toting countess sniffed dismissively. “Poetry. It’s what he calls my requisition forms.”
“So you have a name!” I said with a smile. “Adelaide, you said?”
“Yes. Not really a countess, obviously, any more than you’re a member of the peerage, Sir John. It’s part of the illusion.” Tesla sat in one of the room’s expansive chairs, folding his lanky legs. “We’re all pretending to be someone else.”
“What about you?” Chesa asked. “Are you the real Nikola Tesla?”
“Ah, so we have a historian. It was much easier when no one knew . . .” Tesla waved his lanky fingers. “The man you know as Nikola Tesla is long dead. I am the eighth manifestation of the true saint of electricity. Locked in endless conflict with Edison’s vile spawn, doomed to a life of obscure genius. It’s all quite epic.”
“Eighth manifestation? Like a reincarnation?” I asked.
“Close enough. Turns out, being at the forefront of electrical innovation offers plenty of opportunities to die. In fact, by the time Tesla was famous, he was already on his third manifestation.”
“Huh. And the rest of you?” I gestured around the room. “The ghosts of famous people?”
“Just common folks, with uncommon imaginations, and the will to make their dreams reality.” Tesla nodded to the stairs as the plague doctor scuttled into view. “You’ve already met The Good Doctor. He can be a touch unsettling. But mostly harmless, and quite a hand in battle. I think some formal introductions are in order. Cassius?”
The enormous black man with the literal brass knuckles emerged from the staircase. Now that I had a better look, I could see that pistons and valves ran the length of his forearms just below the skin, sprouting into exhaust pipes at the elbow and wrist. Similar machinery was also evident in his neck and along his jaw. A bulge between his shoulders huffed quietly, expelling a cloud of steam that hung around his shoulders like a cloak. When he flexed his fingers, puffs of steam wreathed his hands.
“Cassius Jones,” he said quietly. “I stay between the boss here and danger.”
“Then you and I have a lot in common,” I said.
Cassius snorted. “This crew don’t look that dangerous. I could take ’em.”
“No doubt you could, if the fight were fair. Then again, you’re not really a fair fighter, are you?” Tesla asked. He placed a hand on Cassius’s arm, pulling him back. “There’s no need for that. We’re all friends here.”
“They don’t smell like friends. They smell like street urchins.” The speaker followed Cassius up the stairs. He was a smartly dressed man, his clothes almost like a uniform, with too many buttons and a dramatically open vest under a bandolier of shotgun shells. He wore a leather airman’s cap, complete with complicated goggles and silk scarf. “They’re leaving a funk on the carpet. I’m going to have to fumigate.”
“That would be the Naglfr,” I said. “Our ship. It’s . . . uh . . . made of toenails.”
“How horrendous!” the man said. “But it flies, you say? I wonder how. Is there some kind of airfoil in the sails? What’s the torsion rating of the human toenail? A fascinating thought. I’d love to take a ride on it sometime.”
“Be fair, Captain. We’re not all blessed with the cutting-edge science of the nineteenth century.” Tesla gestured to the man. “This is Captain Honorius Skyhook. The Silverhawk is his bird. He’s very protective of her. Will Ida be joining us?”
“She’s fighting with a disruption in the condensers. Probably something to do with these vagrants.” Skyhook loped across the room, poured a glass of whiskey, then set the glass aside and took the cut-glass bottle to a chair and sat down. “I’m sure she’ll be along eventually.”
“Ida keeps this bird running,” Tesla explained. “Not so good with people, though. If you see a pile of brown hair and engine grease watching you from the ducts, try to not panic too much.”
“So you’re basically Victorian Knight Watch, huh?” I asked as I settled onto a crushed velvet divan. My armor dimpled the fabric and set the legs groaning. “What’s that make you? Steam Patrol? Clock Watch? Seems like that’d get kind of confusing.”
