The Girl in the Clockwork Collar

“If Jack Dandy wanted to woo me, that arrangement would have a personality of its own—one that complemented mine. Roses are just his way of saying hello.”

Emily sighed. “I wish someone would say hello to me.”

Finley crossed the carpet to the dresser and plucked the most perfect rose from the bouquet. She offered it to her friend. “Hullo, Em.”

Her friend—it still felt wonderfully odd to call her that—beamed. Pale arms wrapped around Finley’s torso. “Thank you.” Like most Irish, she dropped the h, and it came out “tank.”

Finley gave her a squeeze before releasing her. Smoothing her hands over her violet corset—thankfully none the worse for wear—she turned her mind once again to Jasper, pushing all thoughts of Jack, and especially Griffin, away.

“I’m going to need my steel corset, and we’re going to need to rough you up a bit so you look like you could fit in with the Irish gangs. Though, you certainly made an impression on them today.”

Emily’s spine stiffened. “Don’t you worry about me, Finley Jayne. I’ll look the part. I’ve got the earbuds, so we can communicate with each other. I just wish I had time to graft metal to your knuckles. It would make you hit that much harder.”

The idea of Emily cutting open her hands and brass plating her bones made Finley vaguely queasy—never mind that she had witnessed the girl cracking open Sam’s chest cavity like an oyster.

“I’ll wrap my hands the way Jasper taught me,” she said. A silence fell between them as they both thought of him.

“He’s not a killer,” Emily insisted. “No more than you or I are.”

“Anyone can kill for the right reason,” Finley remarked absently as she picked up the newspaper Emily had brought in with her. A photograph of a man named Nikola Tesla stared up from the page. She’d heard Emily talk about him before. Apparently he had a laboratory here in New York.

“There’s a right reason to kill someone?” The smaller girl’s tone was incredulous at best.

Finley dropped the newspaper onto the dresser once again. “If someone tried to kill you, wouldn’t you fight back?”

“Of course!”

“You might kill him. Saving yourself is a good reason. Saving someone else is an even better one.”

Bright eyes narrowed. “Do ye think Jasper might have been protecting someone, then?”

“Dunno.” Finley leaned her head to one side, sighing as a loud popping noise filled the room. Then she repeated with the other side. “But Jasper’s not the type to kill for no good reason.”

Emily gave a quick, determined nod. “We need to find out the truth about what happened. And stop doing that. It turns my stomach every time some part of you pops and snaps.”

“We’ll find the truth.” Finley’s stomach growled. “Good Lord, I’m starving. I’m going to ring the kitchen for some food. You want something, too, or is your delicate stomach still suffering from my pops and snaps?”

Emily made a face at her, but it was obvious the jest didn’t really bother her. They decided to order tea, sandwiches, fruit and cakes. For once Finley didn’t feel the least bit guilty knowing that Griffin would be paying for their indulgence. He had been perfectly awful to her last night. Worse, he’d hurt her feelings when he told her that he wouldn’t fight for her affection. Why ever not? Isn’t that what heroes did when faced with the notion of losing their heroine?

She’d fight for him. Wouldn’t she? Honestly, she didn’t know. She would never stand by and allow someone to hurt him, but to fight for his affection… Well, once again she needed to remind herself that nothing could come of a relationship between the two of them. She could argue against it until she was blue in the face, but the simple fact remained that she liked him—enough that she had taken to researching for information on couples from different social spheres. Cinderella and her prince didn’t count, but that story had started somewhere and gave hope to every poor little girl who had ever heard it.

So if Griffin King thought he could ignore her—and the fact that he had practically propositioned her—he was wrong. That he treated her like that hurt. It was demeaning, and she didn’t know if she could forgive him for it. Did he think he could talk to her like that just because she didn’t behave as he thought girls should?

A few weeks ago, she never would have dreamed of doing something dangerous just to get a fellow’s attention. In fact, she would have mocked any girl who behaved so stupidly, and yet here she was, hatching a plan that would hopefully help Jasper and stick in Griffin’s craw. Not just to get his attention, but to rub his face in the fact that she was who she was—and he had helped make her this way by setting her on the path to amalgamating the two sides of her personality.

“Are you certain I can’t talk you out of this foolishness?” Emily asked a little later as they sat at the table near the window and ate their splendid meal.

“I am. Word’s now gotten back to Dalton that the Duke of Greythorne is in the city and asking about him. Dalton won’t expect Griff to keep company with a girl like me—not for long, at any rate.”

Emily made a face at her crude talk, but it was true, and Emily knew it just as Finley did. “I still don’t like it. We really don’t know anything about this Dalton character other than what little you and Griffin found out—and all you discovered was that he has a fondness for tough girls.”

Finley took a bite out of a cucumber sandwich. She chewed and swallowed before saying, “That’s all I need to know right now. I’ll find out the rest when I get inside. I’ll have my portable telegraph device if I need to contact you.”

“You will contact me. I want to hear from you every three hours if this fool plan works.”

She put on her best placating expression. “That might not be possible, Em.”

A pale finger jabbed the air in front of her. “You listen to me, Miss Finley Jayne. You make it possible, or I’m coming to get you.”

Finley couldn’t help but grin. She loved having a friend, especially one that cared so much for her welfare. “All right, fine. But save your worrying for when I catch Dalton’s attention. He won’t bring me into his gang immediately. So why don’t we concentrate on the fight tonight, and you can worry about me being in Dalton’s clutches when the time comes? You do know I can pound most grown men senseless, right? I mean, I can fight.” In fact, she liked it. It had been part of her darker nature before, but now that she had brought the two halves together—though she still had a lot of work to do on sorting herself out—it was simply part of her.

“I just hope Dalton doesn’t have any abilities of his own.” Emily chewed on her thumbnail. “I’d rather we not have any surprises.”

Finley had thought of that herself. “If I think it’s too dangerous, I’ll run. I promise. Now can we talk about tonight? I have to win a fight, and then I have to deal with Griffin’s wrath.” She grinned. “It is a good plan, isn’t it? Dalton’s bound to notice me, and if I can get into his gang, I can get to Jasper. You know Griffin and Sam will hate the fact that we managed to do what they couldn’t.”

It was obvious that Emily tried to fight her smile, even though it was futile. Her pink lips parted, flashing straight white teeth. “They will at that, lass. They will at that.”

* * *

Jasper expected that Dalton might put a watchdog on him when he went to collect the first piece of the disassembled device. What he hadn’t expected was that Mei would be that watchdog.

He was certain Dalton had sent her to taunt him—to taunt them both. They were alone, and in any other circumstances, they could escape to safety. But Dalton could kill her with that damn collar, and there was nothing Jasper could do to help her. Wasn’t as though he could shoot the thing off her, even if he had his guns.

If only he could find Miss Emily. She’d know what to do. But if she’d heard the rumors about him, she was just as likely to tell him to bugger off.

“Exactly what does this device do?” Mei asked as they navigated the darkness, which was the cellar at O’Dooley’s, with only a feeble hand torch to light their way.

“Danged if I know,” he replied, mentally counting out in measured footsteps to the correct spot. “But it’s important enough that Dalton hunted me down to find it.”

Not for the first time, he cursed himself for taking the blasted thing at all. He had deliberately broken it down into components to buy himself time if this sort of situation ever arose, though he really hadn’t thought it through. It was only because Dalton didn’t want to draw attention to himself that he didn’t send Jasper after the entire device in one night. Some of the locations were going to require stealth, as well as unlawful entry. Jasper had to remember exact locations—it wasn’t as though he’d drawn a map. He was relying on memory.

But Dalton wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t going to sit back and let Jasper be lazy about it, and he wouldn’t put it past the outlaw to punish Mei over every delay.

He counted out the right steps, pivoted on his heel and faced the rough brick wall. As soon as he saw the patch, he knew exactly where to use the mallet and chisel he’d brought with him for this bit of business.

When they’d first stolen the thing, Dalton had been as excited as a kid let loose in a sweetshop. That was how Jasper had known how important the device was.

Obviously he had overestimated his own importance where Dalton was concerned. Dalton hadn’t cared if Jasper bolted or not. What he cared about, apparently, was the device. And now Mei was paying the price for Jasper’s mistake.

If he got them both out of this mess alive it would be a miracle.

“Hold this, please.” He handed the torch to Mei. She took it and immediately held it at exactly the right angle for him to work. But then, it always seemed as though she had a knack for knowing what people needed. He didn’t know if it was a “talent” exactly, but she just seemed to intuit the right thing, all the time.

Crouching, Jasper applied the chisel to a seam between two bricks and gave it a hard tap with the hammer. Bits of mortar crumbled and fell to the dirt floor. When he’d hidden the piece in this wall, he hadn’t had the time nor the inclination to put it back exactly the way he found it. He’d patched it up so that it could be easily accessed if he ever needed it but stand up to scrutiny at the same time.

It took a few minutes to chisel a hole big enough to stick his hand in and draw the part out. He had packed it in a small box to protect it from dust and rodents. As he pulled the rough wooden box from the wall, he could hear the dull roar of the crowd above—a bunch of bloodthirsty men and women feeding off each other’s aggression. Were Griffin and Sam there yet? He knew they would come. Would they think the worst of him when they saw him? He knew better than to hope that somehow they wouldn’t notice him.

God, he hoped Emily and Finley weren’t with them. He had a soft spot for each girl—especially Emily—and the idea of being less in their estimation… Well, it hurt.