“ ’Least you caught this one.” The “devil” frozen beneath her fingertips tried to stir. Fighting his imprisonment. Holly was not certain how long she could hold him, nor did she desire to test it. “I’m taking him to the West laboratory. Hold his feet steady when I lift him up.” Nan’s mouth fell open, but Holly did not give her time to question. Taking a deep, bracing breath of cold air, she rose to her feet, keeping her fingers curled about his cheek, and Mr. William Thorne’s body moved with her as though he were lighter than a feather. Nan balked, but she quickly ran around the hovering body and took hold of his ankles. The whites of Thorne’s eyes flashed, and Holly knew he was desperate to look about, confused as to how she’d been able to levitate him. “You, Mr. Thorne,” she said to him, “appear to be formed entirely of metal. As I can control metal with a thought, so do I have control over you.” She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring look. “Try to relax, why don’t you? And then you can tell me why you are here to kill me.”
Chapter Two
Try to relax? Not bloody likely. Will’s mind had cleared enough to take stock of his situation. He had no memory of how he’d arrived at where he presently was, or what had occurred. He’d known only his objective: hunt down Holly Evernight, and destroy her. Now she was her.
At last. Right next to him, walking with determined strides, her profile a pale and perfect silhouette stamped against the darkened halls. Hell on earth, how did she do it? How did she keep him floating in the air, unable to move or to speak? Her cool hand lay on his cheek, an almost tender hold. Yet he knew it was only there to keep him trapped. Hate and rage bubbled hotly through his limbs. All for naught. He could not bloody mov.
But he hurt. Intensely. Constantly. Pain was a keening wail in his mind. It blinded him. It also gave him something to hold on to. Her scent surrounded him. Iron and fire, the unctuous scent of motor oil, and beneath it all… lilacs. Likely her bath soap, for it was not a strong perfum.
The strange combination felt familiar to him, and he reasoned that he must have remembered it from their last meeting. Must have tracked her by it. No, that wasn’t right. Someone had told him where to find the reclusive Miss Evernight. Only he could not remember who. Gods, his head felt brittle, as though it might shatter. His clockwork heart clicked a steady rhythm. Did she hear it? Did she remember the apparatus she’d foisted on him? He needed to get free and rip out the fleshy heart of the beastly woman who’d ripped out his. He tried to move again. A failur.
“You are wasting your energy.” Her voice was all cool tones and dark shadows. She did not even look at him. “Calm, and we can have a chat when you are settled.” Have a chat. Perhaps over tea? He’d cut her tongue out first. They turned down another corridor. Far above him, the ceiling turned from dark, coffered wood to high, graceful arches of whit.
Arched ceiling. Lying helpless on his back as they rolled him along. Panic blackened the edges of his sight. And with it went his hold on the pain. It crested over him, a violent wave that crashed down and made him shudder. Too much. Too much. Inside himself, he thrashed, trying to get away from it. A whimper broke from his unmoving lips. Midnight blue eyes glanced down at him, and the faintest of furrows wrinkled between the dark wings of her brows. Lovely and heartless. A cold diamond of a woman. She brought him into a small, wood-paneled room, strangely warm and cozy, when he’d expected an icy cellar like the one she’d inhabited befor.
A fire crackled in the hearth, and he craved its heat. The world spun as she turned him, and he caught sight of the matronly lady who he’d all but forgotten about at his feet, her plump face drawn in a scowl. Then his captor set him down on some sort of high tabl.
But she did not remove her hand. He hated her touch. Hated that she could control him in this, when she’d already destroyed his lif.
Like a giant insect, she bent over him, inspecting his face in her detached manner. “You are in pain.” She leaned closer, and her loose, inky hair swung down, the strands cool silk against his neck. “Where does it hurt?” Everywher.
Another strangled sound escaped him. He fought to keep silent. But as if she’d heard his internal thought, she nodded brusquely. “I am going to attempt an experiment.” Like hell! He strained, tried to thrash, and got nowher.
“I will stop if I notice any damage.” Hateful woman. I’ll kill you. A flicker of sympathy went through her eyes. Hate that as well. “Leave us,” she said to the old woman. The woman drifted off like a ghost, out of his line of sight. Out of the room. Then Evernight took a deep breath, her pert br**sts rising beneath her frumpy grey housecoat. He didn’t want to notice her blasted bosom. Any other thoughts he might have had about the matter fled on a tide of liquid warmth that rushed over him. Relief. A soothing balm. He shuddered as it sank deeper. The horrendous pressure that constantly weighed down his flesh eased, and he breathed deep. God. His vision blurred. God. “It’s all right.” Evernight’s voic.
He turned his head towards the sound and realized that he could mov.
Absolute lethargy weighed him down. Warm all over for the first time in his memory, he could do no more than blink up at this strange woman who still had a hold of his cheek. Touching him. He could not remember the last woman who’d done so. He knew he’d had many women, but the particulars were lost in the dark mire of his thoughts. “What did you do?” His voice was rust and cobwebs. It’d been so long since he’d used it. With a shaking hand, he touched his jaw. Flesh ther.
Not cold, hard metal. Evernight’s wide eyes did not blink. “Drew the metal back.” He took another breath, his chest hitching. “I’m going to rise now.” Her lips thinned. “I expect civil behavior, Mr. Thorne.” A rasping laugh made him wheez.
“Do you now? A word of advic.
Become accustomed to disappointment when dealing with me.” She pressed her fingertips into his cheek with just enough force to make her point. “Shall I reverse the process?” Cold, calculating insect. “You have intrigued me sufficiently that I will withhold execution for the moment.” Her perfectly sculpted face stared down at him without any inflection of feeling. “Generous of you, Mr. Thorn.
I shall do likewis.
For I too am intrigued.” Slowly, she removed her hand. He felt the loss immediately, a spot of cold on his cheek and a slight increase in pressure on his chest. It worried him. More so when fingers of pain started to spread from the cavern surrounding his clacking heart. She frowned down at her hand, rubbing the tips of her fingers together as if they bothered her. “What did you do to me?” “Why do you want to kill me?” They spoke over each other. When she simply stood there, her delicate features unmarred by an expression of feeling, he huffed. “Well?” “This is my home, Mr. Thorn.
You answer my questions first, and then I shall answer yours.” Had she not relieved his pain, her neck would be twisted and her blood oozing down his throat this instant. But in truth, he might have wept for joy for the mere fact that he could once again speak in coherent sentences. He needed an answer, and he’d played enough card games to know when an opponent would not fold. “You do not strike me as obtuse, Miss Evernight,” he said. “However, if that is how you want to play this, then fine.” He grabbed the front of his woolen tunic and ripped it open, exposing his chest. “Here is your answer.” There was no satisfaction in seeing her flinch as her gaze landed upon the tangle of platinum threads that ran from the top of his sternum to the bottom of his ribs. It only fueled his rag.
“Here, where your pretty work began and my happy life ended.” Her slender throat worked on a swallow. “What do you remember?” Will’s clockwork heart whirred audibly within his chest. “Every damn moment. Right up until you and that thing ripped the beating heart out of my chest.” Things had gone hazy after that, for which Will was grateful. The pink bow of her mouth tightened. “His name was Amaros. He was a fallen. Diseased and mad. He thought he would prolong his life with a clockwork heart. Only he was too much of a coward to try one out before the operation was perfected.” After he’d been freed, Will had experienced a few moments of lucidity before the dark, confused state he currently lived in had descended. His friend Jack had explained what happened, and that Will had been given a clockwork heart as if he were a f**king machin.
Will knew that much, but no mor.
Oh, but he never forgot her. Evernight. His true creator. “You were his pet.” “Pet.” Her mouth took on a bitter slant. “I suppose you could say that. Bound hand and foot, and his to command.” Her dark eyes flashed with pain and anger. “Yes, I was his pet.” “Forced? I saw you standing ther.
You did not help me! You did not fight. Sell me another story, for this one wears thin.” She held his gaze as she lifted her arms, holding her delicate wrists out before her. “Chained. And soul sick to watch what he did.” Will glanced down. Thick, pale scars marred her skin. He forced himself to meet her gaze again. “Did you or did you not create this heart that beats in me?” “I did.” “And did you or did you not know what it would do to a demon should that bastard play mad scientist with it?” To put a machine into a demon was an aberration of natur.
Everyone knew this. “It was my intention to create a heart that worked well enough for Amaros to put one within his own body,” she said. “That was his ultimate plan. Once he did, it would have made him weaker. Then I could kill him.” The little line between her brows returned. “Yes, sacrifices had to be mad.
But, had I not tried, the death toll would have gone higher. It was an unavoidable consequence of an unfortunate situation.” “You are a cold little thing, aren’t you?” He leaned closer, wanting to see her flinch and disappointed when she didn’t. “Unfeeling and detached from any trace of humanity.” “What would you like me to say, Mr. Thorne?” “Show some bloody remorse!” Her eyes narrowed a fraction. “You came here to kill me, and you speak of remorse?” On a curse, he stood, needing to get away. But it was as if she’d attached steel hooks into his ribs, and with every step he took to distance himself, the hooks dug in deeper, his pain intensifying. He stopped short and rounded on her. “For the last time, what did you bloody do to me? Why do I feel this way?” Her head tilted. “I don’t understand.” “Here.” Will slapped his chest. “It hurts here when I draw away from you. I crave your touch, and not in a pleasant way, but as if I will soon be crippled with pain if I do not feel it.” It burned to admit this, but the truth could not be contained. “Why? Why is this so?” Evernight frowned down at her hand before her expression went completely blank. She stood stone still, oblivious to him, studying her palm. “Answer me,” he snapped, coming up close to her. Hell. Even that was sweet relief. The heaviness around his heart eased a touch. He had to fight the impulse to grab her hand and press it against his chest. “Hush,” she said, not moving. “I’m thinking.” “Oh, well, jolly good. I’ll just sit here in silence, shall I?” She ignored his sarcasm. “Please do.” Will’s fangs erupted, the sharp points puncturing his bottom lip. He tasted blood, and his nostrils flared. One long suck at her neck, and she’d be unconscious. Another few deep pulls and she’d be dead. His c**k stirred at the thought of breaking her skin, cracking through it like the delicate shell of a Trinity cream. Delicious. Hands low on his hips, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fighting his baser urges. Not that she even noted the danger. She merely stared at her hand with blank dispassion. Then, as if breaking from a trance, she drew in a breath and lifted her head. Before he could say a word, she moved closer and pressed her smooth palm to his scar. He nearly swooned. Clutching the chair at his side, Will swayed into her space, lured by the luscious heat and pleasure that she gave him with that simple touch. A moan escaped him. “Interesting,” she murmured. He would kill her. Just for that. “I do believe I hate you, Miss Evernight.” Firelight caressed her skin as she gave him the smallest of smiles. “Your sense of humor is odd.” He hadn’t been joking. “It appears, Mr. Thorne, that your clockwork heart is a constant poison to you.” “Oh, well, brilliant.” And not at all a shock. He slapped the back of a nearby chair, sending it teetering. “Your demon makeup sees it as an unwanted host—” “Stating the obvious, darling.” “But instead of trying to fight it, your body is attempting to reorganize itself, transmuting on an intracellular level.” “Plain English would be preferable.” “In short—” “Too late for that, I’m afraid.” “To survive, your body tries to accept your platinum heart by letting the metal take over your flesh. Which only succeeds in driving you to madness and giving you great pain.” “Another obvious statement.” Evernight let out a small huff. “Do you always interrupt people?” “I cannot remember. If they were as pedantic as you, I’m certain I did.” Her black winged brows snapped together. “Fin.
I shall use small words and simple phrases.” “At this point, I shall be thankful if you can manage as few of them as possible.” A small click sounded in the silence, as if she’d snapped her teeth together. He couldn’t be sure, for her calm tone did not change when she spok.
“I can control metal. When I touch you, Mr. Thorne, I can tell the metal to retreat. I can ease your pain. When I do not interfere…” “I am buggered,” he finished, feeling ill. “In a word, yes. Yes you are.” As expected, Thorne reacted as if Holly had struck him. He reared back, his white hair swinging over his shoulders, and snarled, showing the tips of needle-sharp fangs. “Fucking hell.” It sounded more like fook-hen ’ell to Holly’s ears. It was strange hearing him speak now. In all their time together in the nightmarish imprisonment, he’d never uttered a word. But she knew the sound of his screams quite well. Suppressing a shiver, she pushed that thought asid.