The Girl in the Steel Corset - By Kady Cross Page 0,88
that he had to shorten his stride considerably to match hers.
They joined the others in the stables—Jasper Renn had arrived and was going to accompany them—and each climbed onto a velocycle. Griffin rode at the front and the others followed like geese. Traffic was heavy—understandable given that it was a jubilee year and they were in the vicinity of Buckingham Palace. It took longer than it should have to reach the entrance to the underground near the north end of Vauxhall Bridge Road. Sam wasn’t sure if he wanted them to get there quickly or never get there at all. He had such violent emotions about returning to that place where his blood had soaked into the ground.
Eventually, however, they reached their destination and Griffin led them down the stairwell into the dark caverns that ran beneath London’s bustling streets.
At the bottom, Griff, Emily, Jasper and Sam took out their “hand torches” that Emily had built for such occasions. They were long cylindrical tubes equipped with a power cell and a bulb behind a bit of glass. They made it so much easier to see into the shadows. Unfortunately, their glow made them much more noticeable, as well.
Jasper, ever the gentleman—blast him—offered his light to Finley, who refused. “It appears that I can see very well in the dark,” she informed him with a wry smile. “I seem to learn something new about myself every day.”
Was there nothing she couldn’t do? Sam wondered a little bitterly. He wouldn’t be surprised if she sprouted wings out of her arse.
They had to squeeze through a makeshift barrier designed to keep the general public out of the work area, which was now considerably farther down the track than it had been six months ago. Somehow, seeing that change made this easier.
Emily glanced over her shoulder at him. “You all right, Sam?” she asked softly.
She referred, of course, to his emotional state, returning to the place that had been the setting for many of his nightmares. Familiar anger threatened to bloom inside him. Maybe next she could ask if he needed his nappy changed. But he knew the question came from genuine concern.
“I’m good,” he said. It wasn’t a total lie. His nerves felt stretched as thin and taut as a pound note being pulled between two bankers, but it wasn’t unbearable. He wasn’t so afraid he couldn’t move, and he didn’t think every shadow was another digger waiting to come for him.
Thinking of the digger made him think of his actions the day before once again. If only they’d left the vault door open, he never would have attacked Finley. He probably would have been too terrified to even think of hurting someone. What a thing to wish for! It was proof just how much he would like to go back and do things differently.
Griffin glanced back at him, as well, but he didn’t speak. Sam knew his friend was checking to make certain he truly was all right, so he nodded sharply, letting him know that he was indeed up to the task at hand. Griff nodded, as well, and Sam noticed the strain around the other young man’s mouth. He didn’t like it down there any more than Sam did.
At last, after almost a quarter hour’s walking, they found the spot. Sam recognized it before the others did. There was nothing special about it—just a small stretch along the length of a tunnel where they were laying track for a new underground train line. But he remembered that small stone section of Roman wall that had been uncovered, darkened by centuries of dirt piled on top of it. He had stared at it as his blood soaked into the ground, and the automaton fell not far away. He remembered wondering if Heaven was as pretty as that little bit of painting on that Roman wall.
He stood there, as they began to search for clues, letting his hand torch drift lazily over the area. He was looking for blood, but there was none there, thank God. It had all been cleaned up, or lost in the daily buildup of dirt. How many workmen had tracked through that crimson stain, spreading little fragments of him wherever their boots walked?
“Keep your eye out for tunnels that don’t look like they should be here,” Griffin told them, “or rubble that might conceal an exit. It won’t be easy to find. The Machinist’s too smart for that.”
The Machinist. Five minutes alone with that bounder would do