The Doomsday Vault Read online

  “Indeed, Mr. Ennock,” Alice said. Her face was pale. “I would rather not remain here. One of the locals mentioned a train station. Shall we go look for it?”

  They arrived at the station more than an hour later, grubby, tired, and hungry. Gavin was used to being all three, and the two automatons weren’t bothered by physical needs, but Gavin worried about Alice. Her face grew more and more pale with every passing moment, but she refused both Gavin’s and Kemp’s repeated offers of assistance.

  The train station was brightly lit to ward off plague zombies, and the schedule informed them that the next train to London would arrive in only a few minutes. Gavin and Alice sank gratefully to a bench to wait. It was nearly four in the morning, and a fair number of other people, ones with jobs in the city, were also waiting for the train so they could get to work. Kemp vanished and reappeared with their tickets and four bread rolls.

  “I am sorry breakfast is so poor, Madam,” he said. “It was the best available.”

  Alice handed two of the rolls to Gavin, who wolfed them down without hesitation. “Where did you get the money, Kemp?” she asked.

  “Madam—previous Madam—has an account for tickets. I hope Madam will trust me about the rolls.”

  Alice’s expression said that Madam didn’t, but Gavin touched her wrist, and she said nothing. The train’s arrival ended further conversation.

  Gavin automatically moved toward one of the open-air boxes that made up third class, but Alice called out to him, “Mr. Ennock! Our car is over here!”

  Trying to keep the awe off his face, Gavin followed Alice, Kemp, and Click into the first-class car. No other passengers were in evidence, and the two of them took up plush chairs facing each other across a carpeted floor. Gavin sank into the seat, feeling like a grubby imposter next to Alice’s cool grace.

  The train jerked forward, and a bit later Kemp reappeared with a food seller wheeling a cart. Kemp folded tables down in front of Gavin and Alice, whisked a selection of bread, meat, and fruit from the cart, and set them on the tables while the dark city rushed past the windows. Alice ate immediately, but Gavin just looked down at his plate, his mouth watering at the smells of fresh bread, sausage, and boiled eggs.

  “What’s wrong, Mr. Ennock?” Alice asked. “I can’t imagine you’re not hungry.”

  “I’ve got no money,” he said, feeling his face flush.

  “The meal is part of your ticket, sir,” Kemp put in.

  So Gavin ate gratefully. It must be wonderful to be rich and the daughter of a baron. When he finished, he leaned back in the comfortable chair to close his eyes for just a moment, and then Alice was shaking him awake. The sun had just risen outside, and the train was stopped at a station.

  “We’re in the city, Mr. Ennock.”

  “Oh.” He yawned and got to his feet. “Uh... thanks. For rescuing me and for the food, I mean. I suppose I should be going.”

  “Do you have a destination in mind?”

  He shrugged. “Hyde Park, I guess. It looks like a fine day for busking.”

  “What if someone tries to kidnap you again?”

  “I have to play somewhere. That and flying are all I know, and no one will let me fly.”

  Alice seemed to be warring with herself. At last, she said, “Come to my house, Mr. Ennock. You could meet my father.”

  Gavin considered refusing. He was a street busker in dirty clothes, not someone who should meet a baron. On the other hand, the baron might reward the young man who had saved his daughter’s life. Besides, the idea of not seeing Alice again caused him a strange amount of pain. Every time he saw her disheveled hair, he wanted to reach out and stroke it back into place. Every time he saw her move, he wanted to follow after her. Every time he heard her voice, he wanted to sing along with it.

  “That would be wonderful,” he said.

  Alice hired a cab, and sometime later, they were pulling up to a shabby-looking row house. Kemp, who had been clinging to the back of the cab, hopped down.

  “Is this Madam’s home?” he asked.

  “It is,” Alice responded with overmuch cheer in her voice and a bit of color in her cheeks. Gavin caught on quickly. Either she’d been lying about the baron thing or they were poor regardless of the title, and Alice was embarrassed. He felt bad for her, but not too bad—it was a mansion compared to his family’s grimy flat in Boston, and a palace compared to the cellar he’d slept in until just lately.

  Remembering his manners at the last moment, Gavin jumped down from the cab and held out a hand to help her out, then stood uncomfortably by while Alice paid the driver.

  “If Madam will give me her key.” Kemp held out a hand for it, then hurried up the short steps to open the front door. Click swiped at Alice’s bedraggled skirts with a plaintive meow, and Alice picked him up. Just as she was bustling toward the short steps to the front door, two men emerged. Kemp stood back to the let them by. Both men were middle-aged and wore simple brown business suits and hats.

  “Hello,” Alice said. “Who are you, please?”

  “Are you the Baron’s daughter?” one of the men asked.

  “I’m Alice Michaels, yes.”

  “Ah. We just had a... business meeting with your father. It’s nothing you need concern yourself with, miss.”

  “Is this about his”—she glanced at Gavin and lowered her voice, but Gavin still heard her—“debts?”

  “It’s talk for men, miss,” said the second man.

  “You’re from the debtors’ prison, aren’t you?” she said, her voice still low. “I’ve seen you sniffing round other people’s houses. You can’t imprison a baron for debts.”

  “True, miss, true. But we can imprison a baron for a crime.”

  “Crime?” Alice looked alarmed. “What kind of crime?”

  “We’re in a public place, miss,” the first man said, “and this isn’t the sort of talk for a young lady to—”

  Alice took a step toward him, a terrible look on her face, and the man actually backed up. “Tell me.”

  “Er, theft and embezzlement, miss. He took money that didn’t belong to him and failed to return it, which, by a certain measure, is theft. We’re all aware that in the end the charges will probably not go anywhere, but Baron Michaels will have to spend the duration of the trial—many weeks—in prison, unless he can raise money for bail. And he will have to find money to pay a barrister.” The first man recovered himself and tipped his hat. “But all this is nothing you need worry your pretty little head over. Go on in and feed your cat, or wind it up or whatever you do. Is that cab available?”

  Without further discussion, both men jumped into the hack and ordered the driver away. Alice, still holding Click, pursed her lips.

  “Well. Father must be worried sick.” She hurried toward the steps, and Gavin followed uncertainly. “Last he knew, I was having luncheon with my fiancé yesterday afternoon.”

  It felt like a boot slammed into Gavin’s stomach. The entire world stopped, and he could feel every particle of air striking his skin like a barrage of tiny arrows. “Fiancé?” he echoed.

  “Yes.” Alice crossed the threshold while Kemp held the door. “Norbert Williamson asked me to marry him this afternoon. Yesterday afternoon. I’m still in shock.”

  “I can understand that.” Gavin entered the little house, feeling stupid and a fool.

  Don’t be an idiot, he told himself. You’ve just met her. And she’s the daughter of a baron. Why do you care if she’s engaged to someone who can probably pay her cab fare and buy her a castle with the change?

  “Father?” Alice called, dumping Click on the floor. “Are you up?”

  An affirmative response came from a back room, and an old man emerged, pushing the wheels of his chair with frantic, gnarled hands. He blinked at the roomful of people and automatons.

  “Alice!” he said. He voice was tremulous with worry, and he sounded close to tears. “Thank God! I thought you had been attacked by zombies or worse. What happened to
you? Who are—?”

  “I’m so sorry, Father.” Alice knelt by his chair and took his arm. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I didn’t know things would turn out this way, or I would have sent a message.”

  He put a shaking hand to his mouth in a gesture that Gavin had seen Alice use. “I didn’t get a wink of sleep. This is not what a proper daughter does to her father.”

  Alice looked down, clearly ashamed. “No. I’m very sorry. I can’t explain or excuse it. I should have come straight home after meeting with Norbert. Can you forgive me?”

  “Your aunt Edwina acted like this,” he continued, still distraught. “Even before the Ad Hoc ladies. And look what happened to her.”

  Alice’s face tightened. “I’m sorry, Father.”

  “Well.” He patted her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

  “May I introduce Mr. Gavin Ennock?” she said in a different tone. “He quite saved my life. Mr. Ennock, this is my father, Arthur, Baron Michaels.”

  Gavin didn’t know if he should bow or shake the man’s hand or grovel on the floor. He waited to see what Arthur would do, and when he held out his hand, Gavin took it. He wondered why Arthur was in a wheelchair. Old age? Lost limb hidden by the blankets? Disease? The last thought made him wonder about the safety of shaking hands, but it was too late. Arthur’s grip was devoid of strength, and Gavin was careful not to press the frail fingers.

  “Nice to meet you, sir,” he said.

  “And you,” Arthur said a little faintly. “What happened, exactly? And where did this automaton come from?”

  “It’s quite a story,” Alice said.

  “Perhaps,” Kemp said, “Madam could tell it after a wash and a change of clothing? You must look after yourself.”

  “That’s a fine idea, Kemp. Thank you. Gav—Mr. Ennock could use a wash as well, and I think some of Father’s old clothes might fit him until we can launder the ones he’s wearing. And perhaps you could also arrange for Father’s breakfast? He usually has tea and toast.”

  “Immediately, Madam.”

  The washtub hung in an alcove just off the kitchen. A bath and new clothes made Gavin feel much better, though he was yawning to split his head. He returned to the front room where Alice, who had cleaned up in her own room, was just finishing the story of their long night.

  “Good Lord,” Arthur said at the end. “And you say there’s nothing left of the house at all?”

  “Just Kemp,” Alice replied. “And Mr. Ennock, here. He has nowhere to go, Father, and considering that he saved my life, I thought you could offer him a place to stay for a while.”

  “Er...”

  The hesitation was obvious. Gavin kept a pleasant expression on his face, but was mentally heading for the door: So much for a reward, or a return to Boston. Or the chance to see Alice again. He felt like a bird covered in lead feathers. “I couldn’t impose, sir,” he said.

  “I’m not sure about the proprieties,” Arthur said. “As a newly engaged woman, Alice, you can’t invite a young man to—”

  “I won’t invite him, Father,” Alice interrupted. “You will.”

  “Ah. Quite. In that case . . .”

  “I’m afraid the only room available has no window, Mr. Ennock,” Alice apologized. “It’s across the hall from mine.”

  Some of the lead lightened, and Gavin managed a wider smile. “It’s better than a basement.” He covered another yawn, which made Alice yawn.

  “You’re falling over from exhaustion, Madam,” Kemp said. “I must insist on a lie-down while I fix a place for Mr. Ennock.”

  Moments later, Gavin was lying on a pallet in a warm, windowless room. He touched both his fiddle case and the nightingale for reassurance and thought there was no way he would actually be able to sleep after everything that had happened. Then he fell asleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Alice stared at the ceiling. By all rights she should be asleep, but the events of the previous day replayed in her mind. It was the night of the zombie attack all over again. She should have found it all horrifying and frightening, but here, in the honesty of her own bed, she was forced to admit she had found every moment fascinating and invigorating. Even multiple brushes with death hadn’t so much filled her with dread as thrilled her with excitation, as if being close to the grave had made her find more sweetness in life. Perhaps that was why she couldn’t sleep—she felt she was wasting breath.

  Her mind also kept returning to Gavin. He was handsome, with a smile that made her think of sunshine and musical skill that made her soul soar. But he was the wrong social class, and Alice was engaged. It wasn’t proper for any woman in her position to be interested in him, and certainly not for a woman from a traditional family.

  But she couldn’t have turned him out into the street after he had saved her life—twice. That wouldn’t have been proper, either.

  Alice sat up and moved to her worktable, where she fiddled idly with a driveshaft and a pair of gears. Perhaps Norbert would consent to hire Gavin as a footman in his country home, where Alice could hear him anytime she wished. Then she scoffed to herself. Now she was just being foolish. She looked down at her hands and realized she had set the gears down and was toying with Glenda Teasdale’s calling card, the one Louisa had commented on earlier.

  If you find you need a change in your life, write to me, all right?

  Alice didn’t need a change in her life. For once, everything was going where it should. But the entire affair with Aunt Edwina continued to puzzle her. Where had Aunt Edwina gone? Who had broken into her house and destroyed her laboratory? Why had she kidnapped Gavin? How had she survived the clockwork plague for so long? And why was that clockworker in the skull mask spying on her?

  The Third Ward clearly dealt with questions of this sort. And so, although Alice Michaels definitely didn’t need a change in her life—most certainly did not—she scribbled a quick letter, folded it expertly into an envelope, and turned back to the calling card. Glenda hadn’t written an address on it. After a moment’s thought, Alice wrote Miss Glenda Teasdale, The Third Ward, √2.

  “Kemp!” she called.

  The door opened. “Madam?”

  She handed him the letter. “Post this for me right away, please.”

  “Of course, Madam.”

  Alice climbed back into bed and surprised herself by instantly falling asleep.

  Alice awoke, thinking only an hour or two had passed, but Kemp informed her she had slept through the entire day and the following night. So had Gavin.

  “Baron Michaels wished to wake you earlier, but I wouldn’t hear of it,” Kemp said as Alice’s little automatons brought her a dress. “I have seen to his needs.”

  “Thank you, Kemp.” Alice almost ordered Kemp out of the room while she dressed, but although Kemp was shaped like a man, he was only a machine. Still, she ordered him to turn his back.

  “Madam, I must ask,” Kemp continued. “Why do you and Lord Michaels live in such frightful conditions? The Michaels family lineage is long and proud.”

  “It’s what we can afford.” Alice slipped into the dress and waited while two little automatons fastened the buttons behind her. “Titles and wealth don’t always go together.”

  Kemp gave a mechanical sniff. “Yes, Madam. I have taken the liberty of doing the shopping. Previous Madam still had a bit of petty cash money on account at a local bank, and I restocked the larder with something better than day-old bread and dried cheese. I think fresh fruit will do Lord Michaels some good.”

  “That’s a relief, Kemp. Thank you.”

  “And when you are finished with your toilette,” he said, “I will inform your callers that you are ready to receive them.”

  Alice paused, a hairbrush in her hand. “Callers?”

  “A Miss Glenda Teasdale and a Mr. Simon d’Arco arrived something over an hour ago. It’s the reason Lord Michaels wished to wake you.” Another sniff. “Mr. d’Arco appears to be of Italian extraction.”

  But A
lice wasn’t listening. She stuffed her hair into a serviceable bun and rushed down the stairs to the front room, where she found Gavin seated with Glenda Teasdale and Simon d’Arco. Simon, his dark eyes sparkling, was engaged in lively conversation with Gavin while Glenda, dressed in skirts and a puffy-sleeved blouse instead of trousers, sipped at a teacup.

  Father was nowhere to be seen. The men rose when they caught sight of Alice. Gavin looked very fine; well-rested and dressed and combed. His white-blond hair shone in the gaslight. He caught her eye and smiled. She started to smile back, then caught herself.

  “So good to see you, love,” Glenda said, taking Alice’s hand with Ad Hoc familiarity. “I was hoping you would contact us. We clearly have a great deal to discuss.”

  Alice hesitated.Yesterday—or the day before—contacting the Third Ward had seemed a good idea. Now, with Glenda and Simon in her drawing room, it seemed less so.

  “I prefer Miss Michaels,” she said carefully, “and I’m glad you came. My aunt—”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Simon said, doing so, “but this whole affair is a bit delicate, and we should probably talk about it at headquarters, where it’s safer.”

  “Definitely.” Glenda, who hadn’t released Alice’s hand, was already towing Alice toward the stairs. “Shall we?”

  “I can’t leave my father alone again,” Alice said. “It’s not right.”

  “Your automaton can see to him,” Glenda breezed. “He’s only napping.”

  It would be so easy to go with her. Then Alice thought of her father again, and of her new fiancé. She crossed her arms. “No. I can’t.”

  Simon looked uncomfortable. “Please don’t put us in a difficult position, Miss Michaels. We speak with authority granted by the Crown, which gave us legal jurisdiction over anything to do with clockworkers, and this isn’t a secure place for a discussion. By authority of the Queen, we must insist. If you please, Miss Michaels.”

  His tone was polite, but Alice heard the iron beneath it. She set her mouth and nodded once. “Fine.”

  “Coming, Mr. Ennock?” Glenda asked.