Steven Harper - The Doomsday Vault

“Hm,” she said. “Who were you expecting to break in here, Aunt Edwina?” Then she glanced down at the faraway smear of dried blood on the floor near the front door. “And did they manage it?”

The crack left by the pivot trap was now visible, and there was just enough room at the side, near the wall, for a careful person to edge around it. Thanking heaven her bustle was small, Alice pressed her back and hindquarters close to the wall and scooted around the deadly trap. The automatons below continued to ignore her. Alice cleared the dangerous section of flooring, which lay just before the double doors, and checked carefully for trip wires or anything else that might cause a messy death. She found nothing, so she stepped through and found herself on another balcony, this one overlooking a cobblestoned courtyard large enough to play rugby on. To one side, attached to a wall, rose the tower she had seen outside, from the front of the house. A narrow window toward the top glowed, and Alice heard the violin play. To her astonishment, she recognized the song as the one from Hyde Park. The wistful tune created an intense longing inside her, a desire for something she couldn’t name, a feeling that she was in the wrong place or the wrong time, but that the right place and the right time were just a step around the corner.

A touch on her ankle gave her a start. Click looked up at her quizzically, and she realized she’d been staring at the tower, mesmerized.

“That can’t be the same player I heard in the mist, can it?” she asked him.

Click cocked his head, then put out a steel-wool tongue and washed a paw with little scratching sounds.

Alice sighed and started down a set of stone stairs that led to the courtyard lit by a half-moon. A high wall ran all the way around the yard, and small gargoyles glared from the top. The ground was immaculate-no cracks in the mortar, no weeds or ivy sprouting anywhere.

Gingerly, Alice made her way across the courtyard. Click walked ahead of her, segmented tail straight up, claws clicking on the stones. As she came closer to the tower, she realized that the dozen-odd gargoyles staring down from the top of the wall were made of metal, not stone. Their iron glare made her uneasy, and her mouth went dry. The musician played on, his melancholy music the perfect accompaniment to the eerie night.

Click reached the base of the tower and flopped down on his side with a clank . Alice looked up. A shadow hovered in the window high above her. Her heart beat staccato, and feelings she couldn’t name shifted inside her.

“Hello?” she called.

The music squawked and stopped. The shadow in the window shifted, and out leaned a young man, not yet twenty. Alice couldn’t tell more than that in the moonlight.

“Hi!” the young man called back. “Are you here to rescue me?”

That made Alice blink. “Er… do you need rescuing?”

“Yes, please. I’ve been in this tower for… well, I don’t know how long. At least two weeks, I think. I can’t get out. I’ve been playing like crazy, hoping someone would hear me and come.”

“Are you an American?” Alice asked, and immediately wished she hadn’t. It was such an inane thing to say.

“Boston. Are you English?”

“Of course.” The entire situation made Alice feel oddly sideways. “I don’t normally speak to strange men when I first meet them, you know, however extraordinary the circumstances may be.”

“Sorry! I’m Gavin Ennock. I’d shake your hand, but I can’t quite reach.”

Alice stifled an unladylike snort of a laugh. “I understand, Mr. Ennock. My name is Alice Michaels. This is Click, my cat.”

“He’s very nice. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a clockwork cat before. Can he help get me out?”

“That depends. Er… who put you up there?”

“No idea. Two men knocked me out, and when I came to, I was here. The door’s locked, and little automatons bring me food.”

“Were you playing in Hyde Park two weeks ago?” Alice blurted out. “In the mist?”

Gavin drew back, wary. “Why?”

Because you played like an angel, and I can’t imagine a world so cruel as to lock such a wonder away. “Because I think I heard you.”

“That was probably me. I’m the only busker stupid enough to play Hyde Park on foggy days. Can you get me out? I’ve tried everything.”

“I’ll do my best.” Alice realized her heart was pounding and her hands were shaking. That bothered her. Was she surprised at finding an inhabitant in the tower? Not particularly. She knew someone was up there playing music-the most wonderful, soul-melting music she had ever heard. And it was played by the same musician she had heard in Hyde Park. The idea that she now had the chance to meet this fine fiddler sent shivers over her entire body, which bothered her again.

Was it a coincidence that this particular young man had been imprisoned in Aunt Edwina’s house? Or was something else going on here? The questions nagged at Alice, but she had maddeningly little information and a mind that was distracted by a young musician she hadn’t even met. Firmly she ordered herself to get a grip and look at the problem. Where was the tower entrance? She hoped it wasn’t inside the mansion.

It wasn’t. She found it halfway round the tower, just out of sight. It was made of tired-looking wood and locked, of course. Alice rummaged around in her handbag and came up with a small set of tools rolled in black velvet. Embroidered into the soft cloth were the words Love, Aunt Edwina . Alice extracted two bits of metal.

“Click,” she said, “light, please.”

There was a pop , and two bright phosphorescent beams lit the lock. It was shaped like a clock. If the hands were set to a particular time, Alice could doubtless unlock it without a key, rather like knowing the combination to a safe. It was ingenious-and fiendishly difficult to pick. Peering into the keyhole, she could also make out two little needles on springs. No doubt they were coated with some dreadful poison. Alice stood up and stared at the door, hands on hips.

“Well, really,” she said, and kicked it with all her might. The tired old wood smashed inward. Hmph . Clockworkers might be wonder geniuses, but sometimes they focused so tightly on the details, they forgot the bigger picture.

“Are you all right?” Gavin called from above in his odd American accent. “I heard a noise.”

“Everything’s fine, Mr. Ennock,” Alice replied as Click shone his glowing eye beams inside. “I’ve found a way in.”

The interior of the tower was hollow, with a single wooden staircase winding a spiral around the inside wall. The edge of the stairs had a foot-high rim at the base instead of a handrail, which Alice found strange. It wouldn’t keep anyone from toppling over the side. At the top, Alice made out a landing and another door. She didn’t trust the stairs for a moment, but she didn’t see any other alternative.

“Click,” she said, “would you run up there and see what happens?”

The clockwork cat bounded up the steps and made the first turn. A moment later, there was a wooden clatter, and the stairs all flattened into a spiral slide. With an indignant yowl, Click skidded past Alice and clanked to a halt a few feet from the door. His eye beams went out as Alice bent over him.

“Are you hurt?”

Click straightened, one limb at a time, and shook himself. Then he deliberately turned his back on Alice and sat down.

“Oh, Click, dear, I’m so sorry,” Alice said. “Can you forgive me?”

Click’s tail twitched a dismissal.

“I’ll give you a piece of steel wool when we get home; how’s that?”

No reaction.

Alice sighed. “Very well. You may play with my magnets first thing tomorrow morning.”