The lady inventor gave the preternatural woman an incredulous look. “Yes, final death was the idea when I designed it.”
One of the vampires lurched forward again, intent on Alexia. He held a wicked looking knife. Clearly he was adapting better to her preternatural ability than his now inert cohorts.
Floote shot his other gun.
This time the bullet hit the man’s chest. The vampire fell backward, crashed into a loaded display cabinet, and landed on the floor, making exactly the same sound a carpet makes when whacked to get the dust out.
The remaining vampire was looking both annoyed and confused. He had brought no projectile weapons. The vampire Madame Lefoux had spiked in the eye yanked out the offending optical impairment and lurched to his feet, the socket oozing blackened, sluggish blood. The two joined forces to charge once more.
Madame Lefoux slashed, and Monsieur Trouvé, finally understanding the gravity of the situation, reached around and pulled a long, wicked looking spring adjuster from its cradle on the wall. It was brass, so it was unlikely to do any serious damage, but it might slow even a vampire if applied properly. A sharp wooden knife had now appeared in Floote’s hand both guns being of the single shot variety and thus out of ammunition. Such a competent man, Floote, thought Alexia with pride.
“Well, if I must, fine. I’ll guard the retreat,” said Alexia. “Buy us some time.”
“What, in a clock shop?” Madame Lefoux clearly couldn’t resist.
Alexia gave her a withering look. Then she opened and flipped her parasol over in a practiced motion so that she held it backward by the tip instead of the handle. There was a tiny dial just above the magnetic disruption emitter, set into a nodule. She stepped slightly forward, mindful that she could harm her friends as well as the vampires with this particular weapon. Then she clicked the dial round two times, and three ribs of the parasol began to spew forth a fine mist of lapis solaris diluted in sulfuric acid.
At first the stampeding vampires didn’t quite understand what was happening, but when the mixture began to burn them severely, they backed out of range.
“Up the stairs, now!” yelled Alexia.
They all began to retreat up the tiny staircase, Alexia bringing up the rear, brandishing the misting parasol. The smell of acid burning through carpet and wood permeated the air. A few drops landed on Alexia’s claret colored skirts. Well, she thought, resigned, there is one gown I won’t ever be able to wear again.
The vampires stayed just far enough out of range. By the time Alexia had reached the top of the stairs going backward and up with both hands occupied was no mean feat in long skirts and a bustle the others had gathered together a quantity of large, heavy objects with which to barricade the top. Alexia’s parasol sputtered once, then emitted a sad little hissing noise and stopped misting, having used up its store of the lapis solaris.
The vampires renewed their attack. Alexia was alone at the top of the stairs. But Madame Lefoux was ready for them and began hurling various interesting looking gadgets down, until, at the last possible minute, Alexia managed to sneak behind the rapidly growing pile of furniture and trunks that Floote and Monsieur Trouvé had piled at the head of the staircase.
While Alexia recovered her breath and equanimity, they built up the improvised rampart, wedging and tilting a mountain of furniture downward, relying on gravity and weight as assistants.
“Anyone have a plan?” Alexia looked around hopefully.
The Frenchwoman gave her a fierce grin. “Gustave and I were talking earlier. He says he still has the ornithopter we designed at university.”
Monsieur Trouvé frowned. “Well, yes, but it isn’t certified by the Ministry of Aethernautics to fly within Parisian aetherspace. I did not think you actually intended to use it. I’m not sure if the stabilizers are working properly.”
“Never you mind that. Is it on the roof?”
“Of course, but ”
Madame Lefoux grabbed Alexia by the arm and began dragging her down the hall toward the back of the apartment.
Alexia made a face but allowed herself to be tugged along. “Well, then, to the roof with us! Ooof, wait, my dispatch case.”
Floote dove to one side to retrieve her precious luggage.
“No time, no time!” insisted Madame Lefoux as the vampires, having attained the top of the stairway, were apparently engaged in trying to bash their way through to the landing by application of pure physical force. How vulgar!
“It has tea in it,” Alexia explained gratefully when Floote reappeared with her case.
Then they heard a horrible noise, a rumbling, growling sound and the crunch of flesh between large, unforgiving jaws. The banging on the barricade stopped as something sharp toothed and vicious distracted the vampires. A new sound of fighting commenced as the vampires engaged whatever it was that was hunting them.
The little group of refugees reached the end of the hallway. Madame Lefoux leaped up, grabbing at what looked to be a gas lamp fixture but what turned out to be a pull lever that activated a small hydraulic pump. A section of the ceiling flipped down at them, and a rickety ladder, clearly spring loaded, shot down, hitting the hallway floor with an audible thump.
Madame Lefoux scampered up. With considerable difficulty, hampered by dress and parasol, Alexia climbed after her, emerging into a crowded attic richly carpeted in dust and dead spiders. The gentlemen followed and Floote helped Monsieur Trouvé winch the ladder back up, disguising their retreat. With any luck, the vampires would be stalled trying to determine where and how their quarry had attained roof access.
Alexia wondered what had attacked the vampires on the stair: a savior, a protector, or some new form of monster that wanted her for itself? She didn’t have time to contemplate for long. The two inventors were fussing about a machine of some kind, running around loosening tether ropes, checking safety features, tightening screws, and lubricating cogs. This seemed to involve a phenomenal quantity of banging and cursing.
The ornithopter, for that is what it must be, looked like a most incommodious mode of transport. Passengers there was room for three in addition to the pilot were suspended in nappylike leather seats the top of which strapped about the waist.
Alexia dashed over, stumbling against an inappropriately placed gargoyle.
Monsieur Trouvé ignited a small steam engine. The craft lurched upward and then tilted to one side, sputtering and coughing.
“I told you: stabilizers!” he said to Madame Lefoux.
“I cannot believe you don’t have strapping wire on hand, Gustave. What kind of inventor are you?”
“Did you miss the sign above the shop door, my dear? Clocks! Clocks are my specialty. No stabilizers needed!”
Alexia intervened. “Wire, is that all you require?”
Madame Lefoux held her fingers a short width apart. “Yes, about so thick.”
Alexia, before she could be shocked by her own audacity, lifted her overskirts and undid the tapes to her bustle. The undergarment dropped to the ground, and she kicked it in Madame Lefoux’s direction. “That do?”
“Perfect!” the Frenchwoman crowed, attacking the canvas and extracting the metal boning, which she passed to Monsieur Trouvé.