The Clockwork Scarab

Miss Stoker Out of the Frying Pan

At Miss Holmes’s announcement, I did three things at once: surged to my feet, discharged the Steam-Stream gun, and yanked on a string I’d looped around the leg of the Ankh’s table.

The guard who’d been halfheartedly watching me howled when I slammed into his chin with the top of my head. The table shifted and fell off the dais. Its contents tumbled everywhere. And the blast of steam from my gun seared into the guard next to Miss Holmes.

I met her eyes. “Go!”

She darted toward the double doors as I whirled to blast the gun at the Ankh. He ducked, reaching for a weapon in his pocket as I discharged the gun again. This time it caught Bastet, and the woman screamed as the steam burned through her tunic and into her arm.

Boom! Something had fallen off the preparation table and combined with an element it shouldn’t have. Flames erupted, catching on the edge of a tablecloth, and jumped quickly to an upholstered chair. Soon the space would be engulfed.

I ran toward the door in Miss Holmes’s wake, flinging a heavy table behind me. The guard whose jaw I broke wasn’t fast enough, and the table caught him in the torso. He stumbled back and fell into the man I’d Steam-Streamed. In the midst of the chaos, someone’s pistol discharged with a loud crack.

The flames spread near the front of the chamber, and as I turned back to blast one more wide stream of steam around the room, I heard a loud mechanical grinding. But I didn’t wait to find out what it was; I shot steam at my pursuers and burst through the double doors into the opium room.

To my relief, the chamber was empty except for Miss Holmes, who’d paused at the opposite side. Why was she waiting for me?

“Go!” I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t allow myself to think. If I did, everything would catch up to me: the pain, the loss of blood, my cowardice.

I should have stopped them. I should have saved her.

My partner went through the double doors, and I was only seconds behind her. We bolted down the corridor, and just as we rounded the corner, a figure appeared.

Miss Holmes hesitated, but I recognized him. “Keep going!” I pushed her between the shoulder blades as I met Pix’s eyes. “There’s a fire!”

My partner was panting, not used to the sort of physical activity that came naturally to me. Pix seemed to understand, for he grabbed her arm and helped me tow her along. She didn’t argue, but she was probably so out of breath she simply couldn’t. When she stumbled again, he slung her over his shoulder just as he’d done with Lilly Corteville. And he continued to run, outpacing even me.

We were coming out onto the street when I remembered Amunet. Tied up and hidden in the side hall where I’d left her.

“Oh no,” I said, taking one deep breath of cool night air. “She’s trapped!”

It was one thing to leave the Ankh and his guards in the chamber to find their way out. But Amunet was helpless and no one knew she was there.

No one but me.

I dashed back into the building. I had time. The building was made from brick. It wasn’t as if it was going to burn to the ground. But the smoke, and the flames . . . they would eat anything wooden or cloth.

Or human.

Using my small illuminator for light, I retraced our steps. Despite the growing pain from my wound and the renewed flow of blood, I managed to find my way back . . . back to the opium room, now filling with a different sort of smoke . . . back through the side door, where Pix had stolen that kiss from me right against that wall . . . into the side hallway, tinged with smoke. A dull, grating roar filled my ears.

Beaming my light, I ran up the narrow corridor to where I had left Amunet. The smoke had begun to filter through, but it wasn’t as thick as I’d expected. Light flickered from . . . the open door.

Amunet was gone.

But I wasn’t alone.

I looked up to find a gun pointed at me.

“Welcome back, Miss Stoker.”