Engines of Obsession: Chapter 31

Chapter 31: Water of Kings

The worry about traveling with Anne was real, but if Turner hadn't known what she was really like, he'd have called her one of his best clients.

Anne and Penelope moved efficiently and quietly, much like Nikandros did. None of them questioned Turner when he motioned to move, nor which direction he chose. It occurred to him that he could easily lead them to the guards or something dangerous, but that likely wouldn't help him take her down. She was asking him to do this so she could keep a low profile, not because she couldn't do it on her own.

"What an odd scent," Nikandros remarked, wrinkling his nose. Turner caught it, as well. Moving across the street and through another alley, they'd passed where the strange construct had torn up the ground. A lingering sickly sweet stench, like burned syrup or fruit, lingered in the air. It was laced with the tang of alcohol, though faint, and the tickling traces of gunpowder.

Anne brushed her fingers along the crumpled wall as they passed. "The machines are running on ethanol and battery piles, as far as I can tell." She frowned, "I prefer steam, myself, for anything beyond the soul crystal's abilities, but combustion engines do have their advantages. And whomever built these is very, very good at it."

"You don't know who built them?" Nora asked, voice rising in a sharper tone of surprise. "They aren't manned, either. You can't control them with your abilities?"

Anne shook her head. "No. I should be able to, you are correct. Yet as Penelope noted, someone or something is controlling them from afar. It cannot be simple guided automaton reacting to imprints on a cylinder or the like, or I would be able to take control of them. Someone is able to exert their will upon them and move them, but how they can do so is a mystery even to me. It does not appear to be magical in nature."

Turner raised a hand for them to halt as a cluster of armed guardsmen rushed past the alley’s mouth. The guards would almost certainly prioritize heading to the fight, but he didn't want to attract any attention. That was kind of the point of this impromptu job.

It also gave him a chance to learn more, and what Turner heard concerned him. Even Anne didn't know how this worked. That, more than anything, chilled him. He knew just enough about automaton technology to understand the cylinders she mentioned... simple control schemes that let an automaton follow a preset series of motions. He knew some had figured out ways to make them react and perform simple tasks, but they were always very dumb.

"So it's either some magic you're unfamiliar with, or some kind of breakthrough in technology we don't know about," Turner concluded. He stepped out of the alley and glanced down the street to assess the situation.

He couldn't see the strange new constructs, but Turner caught a glimpse of Anne's guardian.

Twice as tall as a man, it was an upright, bronzed beast of a machine, with a facsimile of a toothy maw and a rippling, segmented tail. The soldiers were hanging back, taking shots now and then, but the armor on this beast shrugged off bullets like bee stings. They'd need artillery.

He couldn't see who or what it was fighting, but from the noise, Turner figured it was more constructs like the one they'd seen earlier. He now knew of at least two of them, so having more wouldn't be a surprise, would it?

The construct in the distance pounced something out of sight, and Turner brought his hand up to motion everyone forward.

"All right," he said. "If I'm remembering the layout, we need to go over two more streets, then swing up toward the battle, and we should be on the right street. Will your shop stay in one place long enough to find it?"

Anne made a soft 'tsk' noise. "Do you think my shop would shuffle away and make it more difficult for me?" After a moment of thought, she added, "Though that would be rather amusing, I suppose. But no, it will remain stable for me, and since you are in such close proximity to me, the memory charms should not apply. Although you yourself have already broken them, and it appears Miss Graves has protected herself."

Turner paused at the mouth of another alley as they crossed the street, about to ask more. He didn't get the chance to.

The loud buzzing noise roared to life from somewhere nearby. But a moment later, a small boxy construct appeared again, this one more on par with the bugs he'd fought. Maybe two feet long, and one foot wide, with a lightweight construction better-suited for what it was doing.

Namely, it was flying.

Four spokes rose out from the corners of the boxy craft, holding spinning rotors that kept it stable in the air. It wobbled a moment, then steadied to turn what Turner presumed to be the front toward the group.

"Into the alley! NOW!" Turner yelled, just a hair too late. He heard the hiss of escaping pressurized gas, and from the corner of his eye saw something dart through the air.

"AH!" Anne's shriek of pain was... new. She hadn't reacted in that way even when her arm had been mangled, but this time she swat at her shoulder, flinging the small dart aside before stumbling toward the alleyway. Turner heard a shattering of glass, and the faint hissing noise of some chemical reaction.

Then he heard another puff of the dart gun on the construct firing again. He threw himself to the side instinctively, and the feathered dart zipped just past his shoulder to shatter on the wall behind him.

Turner felt something splatter on his right arm... and pain lanced through him. The stench hit him, a reeking odor of old coins and bleach, with an undercurrent of cooked meat. It was sharp enough to make his eyes water, and his arm flared with so much pain he almost fumbled drawing his revolver.

In desperation, Turner swapped to his off hand. He'd practiced with it, but never had to do this in real combat. The first shot went wide, and he made out the strange contraption shooting another dart at someone behind him. More of that smell hit him, but with a strong scent of copper now mixed within it.

Through watery eyes, he made out everyone else had made it into the alleyway. Using his still-throbbing right arm to latch the hammer back, he fired another shot. This one hit one of the rotors, sending the construct careening into the nearby stone wall where it crumpled... and began to hiss and steam.

Thankfully, it was too far away for Turner to smell this time, but he guessed that the deadly payload it was carrying had ruptured inside it. A moment later the tumbling device exploded, either the fuel or the compressed gas losing its containment.

Turner stumbled into the alleyway cradling his injured arm. "Nng... what IS this stuff?"

"Some kind of acid," Nora replied, opening her satchel. She was already rummaging for some chemical inside. "Let me neutralize it, then it will be safe to-"

"WATER!" Anne gasped, louder than Turner expected. He looked over... and down. She had slumped against the alley wall, collapsed into the grime-streaked stones. One hand clutched at her chest, and she was breathing hard and fast. Her face was pale, pain etched into it and her hair matted with sweat.

"Water," she repeated. "Rinse... with water. Alkaline... will damage the flesh more."

Nora switched from her satchel to her waterskin immediately. "Right... it's so strong, it would have a violent reaction," she agreed. More for Turner's benefit, he realized, so that he would understand why she was listening to Blakely.

He hissed sharply as Nora poured the water on his arm, and risked a look at it. The flesh was already starting to blister at the edges, and the middle showed the rippling flex of his muscles twitching, skin and a good amount of the flesh just... gone. "What... was that...?"

"I don't see any more of them," Nikandros interrupted. Turner saw that the butler was peeking out of the mouth of the alleyway, looking each way for more signs of attack. "I don't hear anything like it either, but we don't know what else is out there."

Penelope rose from Anne's side to answer for the gasping, pained witch. "It was acid," she replied in her metallic voice. "Very powerful acid. Look." She turned to face Turner, and lifted her right hand. The fingers were frozen and melted at the joints, the palm deeply pitted. Turner could see that her shirt had small holes in it as well, where the acid had splattered and eaten through the fabric, marring the copper surface beneath.

Turner leaned against the wall as Nora prepared a bandage for him. He stared at Penelope, then shook the thought of trying to finish the job from his mind.

Not now.

Anne lurched forward, her hand yanking a small knife from her own satchel. Without hesitation, the trembling, gasping redhead stabbed herself in the chest, right above her left breast.

"Nnngh!" The woman groaned, as blood spurted from the wound. Turner heard it hiss as it splattered on the ground, and Anne finally began gulping deeper breaths, her tremors ceasing. She was still pale, still panting, but no longer looked to be in pain.

"Aqueos Regalia," Anne whispered, finally pushing herself upright. She staggered, but could move again. "The Water of Kings. Or Aqua Regia, in the original tongue of the Empire."

Nora looked up sharply as she began wrapping the cool, damp bandage around Turner's arm. "No wonder. And to make it that concentrated, too? What were they thinking?"

Anne shook her head. "It is to kill me. Or attempt to. Clever one." She ruffled her skirts, trying to shake the worst of the alley filth from them. Dark streaks remained, and she smelled far less pleasant now, the lingering rotten scent of the alley clinging to her.

"Does this happen a lot to you?" Nora asked coldly. Turner knew how she felt. He had already decided that Anne's death would likely be for the better, but he was fairly certain a bullet wouldn't do it.

Blakely once more shook her head, "Not lately, and never this intensely, but it has happened." She made a weak gesture, sweeping an arm toward Turner. "This is not how someone like you fights. That's how I knew.

"I knew you weren't a Hunter."