The Girl in the Steel Corset - By Kady Cross Page 0,80
much they could learn from Finley, who had been born with the Organites in her blood. And now she was gone, and he blamed himself. He should have known she’d take responsibility for the fight with Sam, even though his hotheaded friend had been the one to cross the line.
He left the empty room and walked down the corridor. He had to find Finley and bring her back. But where could she have gone. Her mother’s? Griffin stopped dead in his tracks.
Jack Dandy.
He swore—long and loud—and didn’t care who heard him. Of course that’s where she would go. Dandy didn’t make her feel judged. He accepted her as she was—or at least he accepted the darker aspect of her personality.
Finley didn’t belong with a fellow like Jack Dandy, who was as morally ambiguous as a human could be. She belonged here, with him—and the others. But he couldn’t think of a reason why that should be true. Oh, he wanted to help her, and knew that she would be an asset to their team, but what did she get out of the situation? A roof over her head? Someone using her for what she could do rather than appreciating her as she was?
He came to a halt in the corridor, uncertain of what to do next. He had enough money and power to do whatever he wanted but he had no idea how to tell a girl that he wanted her as part of his life, part of his family.
Jasper had come by to tell him he’d put word out with several associates. No word on The Machinist just yet, but according to gossip, the automaton attacks weren’t random. They were planned.
Had the villain targeted Sam and later Finley? Or had the two of them merely gotten in the way of his plans? He didn’t know—couldn’t work it out—and the helplessness made him grind his teeth in frustration. He was not helpless.
He should go check on Sam, who had been carried up to his bed the evening before by four strapping footmen. Emily had taken first watch while Griff tried to sleep, then they switched until a surly Sam told him to get out of his room and stop hovering.
He would have to talk to his friend about what happened. It wasn’t going to be easy. Part of him wanted to do a great deal of violence against Sam for attacking Finley. But as angry as he was, right now he was also profoundly relieved that his friend was alive.
Unfortunately, without something to occupy his thoughts, the journey down to the lab was a long, hellacious one.
He tugged on his cravat. The knot that had been hardly noticeable just a few moments ago now seemed to choke him. He knew it was all in his mind, but it didn’t change the fact that he hated this infernal lift and the darkness that closed in on him like the brick walls on all four sides.
One hundred fifty-nine, one hundred sixty. Just a few more bricks and it would be over. He breathed deep, calling on the Aether and the runes on his body for strength and calm. He despised this cowardly aspect of himself, but he’d hated enclosed spaces ever since his parents’ deaths. He’d dreamed of it—or perhaps it had been a vision—but they’d died in a carriage, trapped like animals. Ever since he took his velocycle when he had to go somewhere, avoiding his steam carriage unless it was necessary, such as the visit to Finley’s mother.
Finally the lift jerked to a stop. Griffin pushed the gate open and pressed the release latch for the door in front of him. He took a deep breath as he stepped into the laboratory.
“You really need to do something about that condition of yours,” Emily’s voice greeted him.
“I know,” he replied. He pushed a hand through his hair as he walked toward her. “Tell me something I don’t, Em.” It was more plea than sarcasm.
“Well,” she began, “I did some tests on the automaton—the one that almost killed Sam.”
Griffin loved how she always worked that almost in there whenever she discussed the attack. The machine had killed Sam. His ruined heart had stopped just before Emily gave him a new one.
“You didn’t start it up again, did you?”
She scowled at him, but with her big eyes and freckles she only succeeded in looking like an annoyed pixie. “Of course not.”
“What did you find?”
“Come see for yourself,” she said, crossing to the workbench