Kady Cross - The Girl with the Windup Heart

Mila glanced through the open doorway. “I have a meeting to attend. Go. Now.”

The girl didn’t need any extra encouragement. She ran quick as a little mouse down the steps to the drive, and straight to the gate. She pushed it open and slipped out into the night. Mila watched her wave down a cab and climb in. Only then did she relax a little. Only then did she turn on her heel and go back inside. She nudged the footman on the steps out of the way with her foot so she could close the door, and stepped over the one lying sprawled on the foyer floor. She continued on to the room where she knew Blackhurst waited and opened the door without knocking.

Blackhurst stood in front of the fireplace in his trousers, shirt and waistcoat. His dark hair glinted in the flickering flames—which were the main source of light in the room, other than a lamp. It was then that she noticed he wore a metal brace on his right arm. It started at the shoulder and continued all the way down to his knuckles. Reticulated to move with him, it was intricately etched and attached by leather straps. The part that fit over his fist was almost like a glove, and had hexagon bolts—brass knuckles. That explained the bruises on Gracie’s face.

“Mila,” he greeted with a smile. “I knew you’d come.”

“You should know I don’t bruise easily,” she informed him.

For reasons she couldn’t fathom, that seemed to please him. “No. I don’t imagine you do.”

As he walked toward her—like a big cat after a mouse—Mila was once again struck by that sense of familiarity. Then the light struck him just the right way as he tilted his head and looked down at her. And smiled.

Shock hit her hard in the chest. She could almost feel a dent in her breastbone. “You’re Jack’s father.”

Blackhurst stopped, a frown knitting his arched dark brows. Oh, yes, there was no denying the resemblance now that she’d finally seen it. Damnation. Of all the things she’d seen, heard and experienced, this had to be one of the worst on an emotional level.

“You threatened your own son.”

His handsome face—so much an older version of Jack’s—twisted with hatred. “That boy is not my son. He’s been nothing but trouble since his birth. He has made it his mission to ruin my life and destroy me in every way possible.”

If that was true—if Jack had put that much effort into this man—then there had to be a good reason for it. “What do you want from me?”

That charming smile returned in a blink. “You, of course. You’re a strong girl, Mila. So very strong. I think you and I could have a satisfying relationship for quite some time. Most of my companions wear out so quickly.”

She stared at him. “You’re a monster.” Jack had to know that.

“Like is attracted to like,” he murmured, reaching out to touch her face with his hand. Before she could react, he’d drawn back the metal covered one and punched her hard in the face. She felt the cartilage in her nose break as her head snapped back.

Mila shook her head. Blood dripped on her boots and on the carpet, ran down her face. She reached up and set her nose back where it should be. “My turn.” She hit him in the mouth, but held back. This was not a fight she wanted to end quickly.

Blackhurst spat blood on the floor and smiled, flashing red-stained teeth. “Brilliant.”

She did not understand this man, not at all. And she hoped she never would. “I’m not going to stay with you,” she informed him. “Using Jack against me was a mistake.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “I realized that after I sent the note. I was a bit hasty, agreed. But you see, Jack Dandy threatened me, and I needed to find a little leverage against him. I don’t think the boy realized how he tipped his hand when he told me to stay away from you.”

Jack had done that? “Well, it won’t work. Jack isn’t afraid of you and neither am I. Stay away from both of us.” She turned to leave the room.

“I’m afraid you don’t understand.”

Something in his voice made her turn. A door on the other side of the room opened and in walked another footman, but this one had an Aether pistol in his hand and it was pressed against the head of a frightened Mrs. Rhodes. Mila froze.

“This isn’t about you, my dear. It’s about that miscreant daring to interfere in my affairs.” Blackhurst’s face was hard and cruel in a way Jack’s could never be. “It’s about teaching him a lesson, teaching him how to acknowledge his betters.”

“Let her go,” Mila commanded, but her voice shook. She was beginning to understand fear now. Sometimes it didn’t matter if you were the fastest or the strongest, there would always be something that could hurt you. Blackhurst couldn’t do anything to her physically that she couldn’t recover from, but he could hurt Jack.

“Oh, no. Our dear landlady is the only leverage I have against you. You see, I will have Victor blow a hole the size of an apple in her head if you don’t do exactly what I say. You and I are going to spend some time together, and when I’m done you and Mrs. Rhodes will be allowed to leave.”

Mila’s jaw tightened. She ran the odds of escape in her head. If she charged Blackhurst, Mrs. Rhodes would die. If she charged the footman, Mrs. Rhodes would still die. If Jasper were there he might be able to move fast enough, but she couldn’t. And there was nothing within reach that she could use as a weapon. She couldn’t risk Mrs. Rhodes’s life. She just couldn’t. Blackhurst knew that. This was the person who had taught Jack that there was more than physical hurt in the world.

“You expect me to believe that you’ll just let us leave?”

“Oh, I’m a man of my word, my dear.” His lips twisted into a mocking smile. “Otherwise how can you crawl back to Dandy and tell him all about what I did to you and had you do to me?”

Still, she didn’t understand. Why were humans so complicated? God, she hoped she was never completely human if this was what it meant—being capable of such terrible evil. And this was evil, there was no doubt.

“Let me speak plainly so your feeble mind will comprehend.” His tone dripped with derision. “Dandy cares about you in a way that he’s cared about no one else. He cares about you more than he cares about himself. Ruining you will hurt him more than any physical wound ever would. So, yes. I will let you leave, because I want you to tell him what happened here, and I want him to know that nothing he does to me will ever change it.”

Finley was awake when the door to the room she shared with Griffin opened. She hadn’t slept much in the past couple of days, but then, who needed sleep when she was technically dead at times? She had been listening to a recorded cylinder of Beethoven in the hopes that it might help her sleep, but it only made her all the more restless. Smelling Griffin on the pillow beside hers didn’t help either. What if she never got to wake up beside him again?

“Em?” she asked, sitting up. She reached for the lamp and winced. Her insides felt as if someone had used her organs in a cricket match, but other than that she was unhurt. The injuries she sustained in the Aether hadn’t come back with her physically—only mentally and spiritually. Apparently those were just as dangerous as the former. Emily had explained it but Finley hadn’t absorbed too much of it; she was still reeling over the fact that she had defeated Lord Felix.

“It’s me,” Emily replied as the lamp lit the room.

“And me,” said Wildcat.

Finley managed a smile as they closed the door behind them. They were exactly the distraction she needed. “You brought me things.”

“I brought you dinner,” Emily said. “You need to keep your strength up.”