The Undying Legion

“What is that thing?” Charlotte shouted, not quite used to the fact that the engine had stopped.

 

“Inside voice, dear,” Kate said, then realized they were outside.

 

Penny leaned over to retrieve a heavy rucksack from the sidecarriage. She pushed the goggles up, clearly eyeing Charlotte, but she still smiled, betraying no fear around the girl.

 

“Charlotte,” Kate said, extending an arm, “do you remember Penny Carter? She is an engineer. She builds things, as my father did. She made that machine she was riding like a horse from perdition.”

 

“Oh my goodness!” Charlotte exclaimed. “You made that?”

 

“I did.” Penny pulled off her glove. “Nice to see you again. We didn’t have much of an opportunity to talk last time.” The engineer extended a hand and the girl seemed thrilled to shake it. Then Penny nodded casually to the hunched, veiled figure attached to Kate. “Imogen. Good to see you again.”

 

Charlotte started toward the steamcycle. “Can I go for a ride?”

 

“Sure.” Penny slapped her gloves against her thigh, raising a cloud of dust.

 

“No.” Kate smoothly found a plausible excuse. “I’m sorry, dear, but not now. Penny is very tired from the ride out. She’s been going back and forth a lot these days.”

 

Penny looked a little embarrassed for overstepping. “Oh, I’m sorry, Kate.”

 

Kate put a comforting hand on Penny. “Charlotte, you and Imogen keep exercising Aethelred. He hasn’t had nearly enough activity today.”

 

“All right.” Charlotte stared at the steamcycle as she backed up, reaching out for Imogen’s hand. “Come on.”

 

The two ran off with the wolfhound in their wake. When they were a fair distance away, Penny said, “Good God, Imogen looks fantastic. I can’t believe she’s out.”

 

“Yes,” Kate said proudly. “This is her first time outside the house since we brought her back from Bedlam.”

 

“She found that little bit of hope finally, I see.”

 

Kate regarded her friend with grateful smile. “She did.”

 

“And that little darling is the werewolf that helped us?” Penny hefted the rucksack with a knowing glance at Simon.

 

“Yes.” Kate laughed. “Needless to say, she’s not always a little darling.”

 

Simon added, “Thank you for coming back out, Penny. I know it’s been difficult for you these last few days. And riding that monstrosity back and forth from London must be exhausting.”

 

Penny waved a casual hand as she watched Charlotte pick up a heavy stick. “No troubles. It’s proper exercise. I can crack a chestnut with my thighs now.”

 

Kate couldn’t cover her raucous laugh while Simon nodded with thoughtful consideration, saying, “Good to know.”

 

Across the lawn, Aethelred splayed his front legs and stared openmouthed at the stick in Charlotte’s hand. Charlotte handed it to Imogen and pointed into the distance. Imogen showed the stick to Aethelred once more, then reared back and threw it with amazing power. The dog roared off in a spray of dirt. The stick bounced near the service path and rolled under a wagon. The wolfhound loped toward the wagon and wedged his large body under it, reaching for the stick. The ancient horse hitched to it paid the dog no mind. Charlotte raced forward and crawled under the wagon too to help the hound while Imogen bent over and watched them as they wrestled for ownership.

 

Even more remarkably, Imogen paused to pull her veil up over her face. She raised her head to bask in the limited sunshine. Her bloodless lips stretched into a smile as she faced the warming rays. Kate’s breath caught in her chest, watching her sister bask in the sun as if, for just a moment, she was a normal young woman again.

 

From around the back of the house came a figure carrying wicker baskets in his arms. Kate recognized him. He was the son of a tenant farmer who lived on the estate, likely delivering eggs. He was a young man, strikingly handsome, barely sixteen, and had a penchant for flirting with the pretty girls, even the higher-class Imogen in years past. He approached the two girls beaming broadly at their play, until Imogen turned her bared face toward him at the sound of his approach. She smiled back and waved at him, forgetting that her hand was nothing more than a bundle of tentacles.

 

At first he showed disgust, but then terror crossed his features as Imogen’s mechanical eye rolled toward him and jutted in and out to focus. He screamed, his hand fumbling into his baskets. Imogen froze in place. The first egg he threw struck her in the chest, splattering her with its runny innards, yellow yolk soaking into the blue silk. The next ones coated the beautiful material even more and struck her in the head. Foul egg whites dripped off her chin and onto the delicate embroidery, covering it in a slimy film.

 

Kate shouted, breaking into a run. Her heart was in her throat as she stared at Imogen’s face, watching it transform from the relaxed girl back into the hopeless creature of the last few months. “No!”

 

The lad staggered back and reached down beside the path to grab up several stones.

 

Clay Griffith & Susan Griffith's books