Black Magic - An Urban Fantasy Colleciton Read online

  His smirk widened. “I admire your brazen way of speaking. It sets you apart from those who come here, hat in hand, bending over backwards to please me. I tire of false flattery and of those who will not take a moment for breath as they tout their work to me.”

  “Well, I can assure you I would never falsely flatter you, nor would I sit here and use my words to aggrandise my work. I let what I have done speak for itself,” she said.

  “Three airships for the King of Griswold; an entire upgrade for the Duke of Wellington’s home; designing a new cog system for Baker’s locomotives, allowing them to use fifty percent less steam per annum.

  “Your work does indeed speak for itself, Ms. Gable. The reason I was hesitant at contacting you is that you do not seem to be in the position of importance which inventors like you usually occupy, as anyone can tell by the clothes you wear. What is the reason for that?” he asked.

  Daniela looked at her hands, feeling angry and a bit embarrassed. “My father was a wonderful inventor, and he taught me everything I know before he passed away and I started teaching myself. In my town of Oakcrest, women are not supposed to be inventors and designers of anything but clothing. I refused to conform to their misogynistic ways, and as my Mayor won’t recognize my work, I cannot be expected to be recognized for it anywhere else. I am not even allowed to be contracted by others from the county, so my being here is actually a big risk for me.”

  Mr. Crosthwaite’s eyebrows knit together. “That is a deplorable Mayor and town indeed. Why do you not move elsewhere?”

  “Please find me the funds to do so and I will move. Until then, I must suffer ignorance and repression.”

  Crosthwaite pressed a button on the wall nearest him, and a side table with decanters of alcohol began to walk towards them. There went her bright idea. He poured himself a glass of deep red wine and handed her a small tumbler of brandy. “I may indeed be giving you the funds you need to make a new life for yourself. I would like for you to come and be under my employ.”

  Daniela paused. “I appreciate the offer, sir, but may I ask just what would I be building for you? Mr. Williams simply asked about an airship, but there are plenty of airship designers in London. Why contact me, particularly?”

  “Because I am not a normal man, Ms. Gable. I do not want a normal airship. I want something extraordinary, and you are the only human I know of who can give me that,” he said.

  “I have a couple of stipulations before I agree,” she said.

  This seemed to amuse him, as he chuckled darkly. “Stipulations? I did not think a woman in your position was allowed to make any demands of me,” he said.

  She scoffed. “They are minimal. The first is, if you want a warship you must look elsewhere. I will not contribute to destruction. The second is that I expect to be treated as you would treat any man.”

  “The first is a ridiculous notion. Why would I need a warship? The second, well, I cannot promise that.” He stood up, walking around her chair and she felt his hand brush across her shoulders. She forced herself not to shiver. “I would not think of treating any man the way I’d like to treat you.”

  Her heart began to beat faster. There was no denying that Mr. Crosthwaite was handsome and very alluring, but there was also something off about him; something she couldn’t put her finger on. Her uneasiness did not dissuade her, however. She needed this job. It was her last chance.

  She stood up to face him, at least six inches shorter than he was, and said, “I accept the position.”

  Again, there was that amused smirk. “You did not even ask about your salary.”

  She smiled ruefully. “All due respect sir, any salary is better than nothing at all. I believe you will be fair when you pay me.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because you said it yourself, sir, you need me.”

  He smiled, turning his head. She thought that the smile brightened his entire countenance, but it appeared that he was unused to the action.

  “I have another stipulation of my own, Ms. Gable,” he said. “I do not want you commuting on those country roads on a vaporbike that breaks down so frequently. I have a guest room here that you can use while you are under my employ. After your work for me has been completed, I will help secure a flat here in London. Get you out of that Godforsaken town.”

  Daniela was stunned. “Wow. I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Mr. Crosthwaite. I promise I will do my very best for you.”

  He eyed her intently. “I’ve no doubt that you will. Now, allow Barnabas to take you home. I will have him pick you up tomorrow after dawn, and send someone to help him bring your things here. Good evening, Ms. Gable.”

  She bowed her head. “Good evening, Mr. Crosthwaite.”

  ***

  “You seem quite taken with Ms. Gable,” Barnabas commented that night, after he returned from taking Daniela home. Lucien was in the library, rereading a favorite novel of his while absently sipping on his drink.

  “Indeed I am,” he replied. “Is that so wrong?” He closed the book and tossed it on the couch next to him carelessly.

  Barnabas appeared to be gathering his courage as he spoke. “Yes, depending on what it is you want with her.”

  Lucien shook his head at the narrow-mindedness of his closest companion. “I want her to build my ship so that I may travel at my leisure. And possibly make a few improvements here. The last good steamworker I employed died sixty years ago. It is high time I made some changes around here.”

  “And after she has done all the necessary work?” Lucien could hear the apprehension in Barnabas’ voice. “Forgive me, but you can be quite indiscreet at times. Remember the tailor’s daughter fifteen years ago?”

  Lucien waved a hand as if swatting away a fly. “I have not killed anyone since then, Barnabas. Really, you worry too much. Besides, I was provoked...and she was AB negative. How could I have resisted?”

  “You almost made yourself become a target for hunters again. Is that what you wanted?”

  Lucien stood, stretching like a cat. “No, I did not and do not want that. After seven centuries, I finally found an era I truly enjoy living in. And I would never kill such a spirited woman as Daniela Gable. No...I would much rather preserve her for eternity.”

  ***

  Daniela was up and dressed at dawn, a knapsack packed with her clothes, and another larger brass box filled with her tools ready to go. Everything else Mr. Crosthwaite promised he would have employees pack and bring to his home by that evening.

  She hated admitting it to herself, but seeing Crosthwaite again overshadowed even her excitement at a new job. He had enthralled her, and no doubt he knew it, too. He had this indescribable air about him that just seemed to draw people in.

  She was not fond of these feelings, as they took away from her time to work, but she could not stop them. It was a warmth that spread on her cheeks when she thought of him, or heard his deep voice in the echo chamber of her mind.

  As she checked her appearance in the mirror, she berated herself. “You little bobolyne! Do not let a handsome visage distract you. You will be there to do a job: nothing more. Do not start getting feelings for a superior. It will only end in heartbreak and you know it.”

  As she spoke, there was a loud knock at the door, making her jump. She answered it to see Mr. Williams on her front step. He bowed to her and she gave a small curtsey.

  “If you please, Ms. Gable, give me your immediate bags and all of your belongings will be moved to Crosthwaite Arms,” he said.

  “Thank you, sir.” She was relieved to see that he had brought a simple steamcar to take her in. The Walker from the previous night had been far too shaky for her nerves. One of her bags was opened, and Mr. Williams noticed a raygun and crossbow.

  “Do you hunt?” he asked her.

  “No. My father did. He left these to me, telling me I might ne
ed them one day. I am actually quite good with many weapons, but prefer to build rather than destroy,” she replied, settling herself in the passenger seat. “I do, however, always keep a raygun on me. One can never be too careful.”

  It was pleasant to see the countryside go by, to have the wind whipping in her loosely curled hair, and to not be on that damned vaporbike. Maybe soon she’d be able to upgrade it. She loved watching the dark, smoggy city loom up before her in all its glory. She could already hear so many machines working, mending streets, building homes, and so much more. It made her blood pump faster, thinking of how she was going to become a part of this place.

  Mr. Williams took her to her quarters, a bedroom and a sitting room, and said, “Mr. Crosthwaite will be away during the daytime, but he will see how you are progressing in the evenings. You are free to utilize the kitchen, but he has employed a cook for your convenience. The library and parlour are also free for your use. Once you get your things settled in, you will find that he has left you instructions and descriptions of what he wants his airship to look like in your sitting room. Good day, Ms. Gable. Don’t hesitate to call on me should you need anything.”

  Daniela was alone then, looking out her round window at the city before her. Since the house was a bit outside the actual city, she was able to see it clearly. It was a view that some might not appreciate, but seeing the machinations firsthand when she woke up every morning would inspire her to go and do her best work every day.

  Her room was prettily furnished, and she noticed that the bed had a steam-powered heater below it, to give her warmth when it got too cold. She smirked at the large wardrobe, when she pulled the lever to open it and add in her few dresses. What she saw was a shock: brand new dresses, shoes, and corsets were hung and lined neatly, all her size. In the trousseau next to it were many accessories she could utilize and look like the picture of fashion. Most of the clothes were dark hues, which were her preference. She wondered how he could have known that.

  She found a note pinned to a chain on a corset, written in neat calligraphy. “If you’re going to be a revered steamworker, you need to look the part. Enjoy. Lucien.” Hating herself for the blush that suffused her face, she took out a simple black velvet dress and put it on, covering it with the deep red leather corset he had pinned the note on. It had silver chains on which silver cogs hung. It was delicate and lovely, and it would also make it easier to move while she worked.

  Once she felt settled, she went into the sitting room, which also faced the city, but more westward, so she also saw the cemetery. Her mother had been buried there when she was just a baby. Her father had not. He had been buried in the small cemetery in Oakcrest. He had refused to ever go back to London for some reason.

  Sighing, feeling that familiar ache in her chest whenever she thought about her parents, she turned back to the table. There were a few pieces of paper on the surface, along with a steam-powered teakettle and a box of assorted leaves. She turned it on and sat down to read Mr. Crosthwaite’s notes.

  On the surface, the airship seemed simple enough to build, but he wanted some extra amenities that they usually did not have, including an icebox, steam-kettle, and a way for no light to be admitted whatsoever except for the pilot’s compartment. People usually wanted their airships to be nice and bright, so they could see everything below them while they traveled. It wouldn’t be too difficult to conform to his wishes, however. He also wanted two bedrooms built, one for him and another for Mr. Williams. Mr. Williams’ room was to have the only window.

  She was the only person who could put kitchens and bathrooms in airships, so it was no wonder he had contacted her for this position.

  The next sheet of paper told her that her workshop was also capable of moving, but was sitting about half an acre away from the house at that moment. The framework for the airship was already built, but everything else was needed, including the engine.

  “I don’t expect you to get to work as soon as you arrive, Ms. Gable,” he wrote, “but it is there if you want to begin to plan your blueprints.”

  She was actually quite eager to get to work, so she went to the kitchen to get an apple for sustenance before she walked over to the large hangar waiting for her. Her nerves tingled with excitement. While other girls got tingly over gems, she felt her heart soar at the prospect of getting coal and oil all over her hands.

  When she unlocked the hangar’s door and saw the frame for the airship, she couldn’t help but say, “What the devil does he want? A flying house?” This was not the framework for a typical airship, but one at least twice the size. She wasn’t even sure she could build a steam engine for it.

  So, the first thing she decided to do was make blueprints. She knew it could take a while, and was glad it was only midday. She needed the time to take measurements and weigh volumes of fabric, amongst other things.

  She got lost in her planning, using up quite a bit of ink and chalk. In fact, her new dress was covered in the white substance, and she had an ink smudge on her cheek. She was so absorbed in her plans, she did not hear the hangar door open.

  “Still hard at work?”

  She jumped, letting out a little squeak. She turned to see Mr. Crosthwaite standing over her, that peculiar smirk on his face. “Oh, hello, sir. I didn’t hear you come in.” She stood, brushing off her skirt. “Thank you for the wardrobe. It is much appreciated.”

  “There is no need for thanks. You look quite lovely, Ms. Gable.” He gazed down at her, his sharp face looking a bit concerned. “You are, however, pale. Have you eaten?”

  Daniela glanced at her pocketwatch, which she attached to her waist. “I did not realize how much time had passed.”

  She felt his cool hand come over her cheek, gently wiping away at the ink smudged there. “I will have Cook prepare you something. Can’t have you fainting on the job, can we?”

  He was so close, barely a centimetre away from her. She felt her skin tingle beneath his gentle touch and her breath caught in her throat. His eyes bore into hers, as if he were reading her soul, her heart, and her mind. She found that she didn’t mind the intrusion.

  “You are quite...precious to me, Ms. Gable,” he said, his voice low in his throat. Before she knew it, his lips were pressed to hers, soft and persistent. She kissed him back without thought, letting him hold her in a way that might have been inappropriate.

  The kiss stole her breath away, and had he not been holding her about the waist and head, she was certain she would have fallen. She gripped his velvet coat for dear life. If this kiss were to steal every last breath she had, she knew she’d die happy.

  He pulled away from her, and walked away without a word, but with a smile, leaving her in shock and with a rapidly beating heart.

  ***

  “You are getting yourself into a very deep hole, Lucien.” Barnabas placed himself firmly in front of Lucien’s chair, hands on his hips.

  Lucien had always found Barnabas an interesting study. He never feared him, always spoke his mind, and even contradicted him at times. No mortal would do that knowing what Lucien was, but Barnabas did. It was his stubborn, sometimes vulgar fearlessness that made Lucien keep him around...and alive.

  “Not this old song and dance again,” Lucien complained.

  “This is no routine, my friend,” Barnabas said. “How could you get yourself involved with the daughter of George and Brigid Gable? Didn’t they give you enough grief twenty-five years ago?”

  “Brigid did not get me into anything,” Lucien disagreed. “How was I to know she was married to a hunter? We fell in love. It was no one’s fault.”

  “And you turned her.” Barnabas’ voice was filled with harsh accusation.

  “Yes, I turned her.” Lucien’s eyes flashed red. “I turned her because she asked me to. I had no idea she had an infant, and again, I had no idea she was married to a hunter. She wanted out of that life and into mine. I
gave her her wish. And she died because of that. Don’t think that I do not feel remorse for that every single day. It is only my great regret that disease killed that bastard before I could get to him!”

  He stood up, towering over his familiar. “I regret her death. When I had you contact Daniela, I had no idea she was a part of that Gable family. However, now that I have her, I am not letting her go. There is a spark in her, a spark of genius and a spark of life, that every other human I have ever met lacks. I will not let her slip through my fingers.”

  “Forgive me, but it is out of concern for your life that I say what I do,” Barnabas said. “I do not want to see you hunted. That is why that town keeps her sequestered: because of creatures like you! They are a town of hunters, and once they get wind of your taking Daniela, they will come after you. Not only will you be hurt, so will she. Just like her mother.”

  Lucien’s eyes blazed with Undead light. “I will never let them touch her. If I must die for it, I will ensure that she lives.”

  ***

  Lucien met Brigid when she was in London on a shopping expedition. It was evening and Brigid was having a meal before taking a steamcab back to her home. Lucien had also been out looking for his evening meal, but forgot all about blood when he saw Brigid. She was lovely: all dark hair and wide smile. Lucien had been alive since 1012, and never before had he felt what he felt when he saw her.

  He had never felt any human emotions, but just one look at Brigid made him feel...euphoric. He needed her; he craved her in a way he had never even craved blood. He had not even needed to glamour her when he approached her. She was just as taken with him.

  The affair was quick and brief. It was mere months before she asked him to turn her. Why she had neglected to tell him she was the wife of a hunter, he would never know. He was so in love that he did turn her, making her into a vampire as he had so few in seven hundred years. That turning, that act of human passion, was nearly his downfall.

  He and Brigid were strolling one evening; he was explaining to her the concepts of the walking coffins he was thinking about getting made, if he could find a good steamworker. That was when he smelled the human coming closer.