Gears of Fate Read online

  “It’s like you said. You come with high ranks and he wants this all done quickly.”

  “Sure, two hundred stacks. I can do that.”

  “What? We agreed on—”

  I ran to the edge of the dock and jumped. The weightless sensation always made me feel free. With my arms spread, I let the sky take me in its comforting embrace. For those couple of moments, I didn’t think of myself as a Fringe Rat who begged for rust jobs, or lived on the outskirts of a rich city. I felt free as a bird and the possibilities seemed endless. And like always, I thought about not turning the thrusters on. I could just fall and let the bomb or the elements have me. I would never have pushed the ignition switch if it weren’t for Alice.

  My little sister depended on me coming home at the end of every day. I hit the button and the thrusters burst to life, slamming me upward with a jolt. I’d fallen far below the depths of Olympus. I soared back up toward my home, and the vast underbelly of the city. Networks of piping, engines, steam, and propellers worked in synchronicity to keep the city afloat. A complex machine of Hephaestus’ creation. I saw only beauty and magic.

  I let my thrusters carry me into the web of mechanics. It took my eyes a moment to adjust and find the leak of ambrosia spraying into the ether. Minor fixes like this could become devastating if left unattended, due to the volatile nature of ambrosia. I never really knew how it all worked; they kept us in the dark about things like that. Knowing the steam that kept us afloat depended on the ambrosia is all that mattered. Most importantly, I knew the rich mechs and tinkers couldn’t be put at risk coming down here, while I could easily be replaced at a moment’s notice. The closer I pulled in to the piping system, I realized how serious of a fixer it is going to be. Luckily, there was no smoke, which would’ve been a clear warning of overheating. I didn’t have to worry about burning my skin.

  I flew over to the leaking pipe, hooked my line on, and cut off the pack’s engine. I hung upside down; blood rushed to my head. It can take a bit to get used to the orientation, but I loved it. From my tool belt, I took out a sheet of flexible copper plating, the material we used to seal leaks. It didn’t seem like much but it always did the trick. While I worked at covering up the hole, I had to focus on ignoring the warm, melty sensation going on in my head, a side effect of exposure to ambrosia fumes. I’d once seen a Fringe Rat let the ambrosia take over his head; he felt godlike and unstrapped himself, fully expecting to fly to the heavens. He bought himself a one-way ticket to Hades instead. The stuff didn’t mess with me too bad, one of the reasons I outranked so many. I always kept a clear head and my thoughts focused on my task no matter how cogged it got.

  I sprayed the edges of the copper plating with my adhesive gun and finished the job. As a precaution, I checked around for other potential problems, things that needed tightening, and holes that needed patching. It was an easy job, a simple fix here and there, nothing too rough.

  If you asked me, we needed a complete overhaul badly. These rush jobs wouldn’t cut it much longer, but no one ever talked about that. The Job Masters and Money Men didn’t give a rust about the underbelly of the outer city, the Fringe. They spent all their resources on making sure the underbelly of the inner city, Empyrean, stayed up to code. If things ever got worse, they could just jettison the Fringe and Empyrean would be safe and sound. I turned my thrusters back on, unhooked my line, and flew over to one of the hatches leading into Empyrean space. I wanted to bug up some of their gears for a callback. In the end, it wouldn’t matter. Empyrean had their own tinkers who came down to take care of their gears. Instead, I took a wrench to one of the nearby pipelines and knocked it around a couple of times until the nut loosened enough to come undone in a couple of days.

  By the time I got back topside, the pack’s fuel gauge read critical. Those cog brains didn’t even give me a full pack. If I hadn’t spidered around most of the job, I would’ve been taking a dive down to Earth. I found the Job Master leaning his chair back against the side of the guardhouse, dozing off like he had nothing better to do. I kicked the chair leg out from under him and watched with pleasure as he crumbled to the ground.

  He shot up to his feet in a flurry. “What the Hades!”

  “Just got here,” I said. “Looks like you were leaning too far back.”

  “Never mind!” He straightened out his long ruffled sleeves. “Is the job done? I should be getting home for dinner.”

  “Yeah it’s all brass. You guys should really think about refitting, though. It’s really starting to look like rust down there.”

  “How about you let the Money Men worry about things out of your league and you worry about getting repairs done in a timely manner.”

  I nodded, biting my tongue so hard I thought it would sever.

  “Right, then. So good job. I’ll be heading on home. You should too.” He practically ripped the gear from my back and packed it away along with his other materials. Once he finished packing, he handed me the coveted envelope filled with stacks. “Count it if you want, but I’m not sticking around The Fringe any longer than I have to.”

  “It’s brass. Take it easy.” I hoped he’d take a long walk of the edge.

  The stars came up bright; that’s the one thing I appreciated about Olympus, being so close to the stars, I felt like I could touch them. I strolled down the Fringe, staring up at them, trying my best to lose myself in their light. Getting shoved caught me off guard. I stumbled back and fought to keep my balance. Mason stood there grinning like an idiot.

  “What the Hades,” I said. “No need to be rough.”

  “I could have been even rougher back there, you know? You’re lucky I didn’t knock your teeth out.” He cracked his knuckles in an obnoxious manner. “I really thought about it.”

  I took out the stacks, counted out seventy-five, and tossed him his cut. “Why would you do that?”

  He caught the wad. “I figured if I knocked your teeth out, the Job Master would be more sympathetic to your bargain.”

  “Hmm, not a bad idea. Maybe next time.” We touched knuckles and started walking together.

  “Where you headed, Walker?”

  “Home… I guess.”

  “She’ll be fine. Come to the Crow’s Nest. Your dad’s been at it with Gunnar all day. I have a feeling they’ll be hatching it out in a drinking contest.”

  I had to take a deep slow breath. “How long’s he been there?”

  “Since the afternoon.”

  “Which means Alice has been alone all day. Sorry mate, I got to check on her. You know how she gets with her imagination.”

  He patted me on the back. “She still having those fits?”

  “Yeah, screamed her head off most of last night. She thought there were creatures crawling around her room. I checked under the bed and everything, even had to sleep with her. But she wouldn’t let up. I really have to check on her.”

  “Worry none. I’ll catch you tomorrow? I got another thing planned for the Money Men.”

  “Brass.”

  Mason and I turned down the corner and headed for the bar. The music and laughter begged me to come join in, but my mood was already rust. I wanted to get home to my sister and get some rest. Exposure to ambrosia also left you feeling tired, depressed, and restless. Like a side effect of coming off a drug. Most of my night would be spent tossing and turning, while my brain tried to hold afloat in a sea of depressing thoughts. I looked at the wad of stacks in my hand. All for a measly seventy-five. At least Alice would be eating for the rest of the week.

  Mason went inside and I continued home.

  Chapter Two

  I would have to get a handle on my mood before I walked in the door. I couldn’t let Alice see me this way. She needed me to be her rock. I had to be the strong one for as long as I could remember. This is where my life began and will probably end: a depressing cabin at the edge of the Fringe where I had to grow up way before my time.

  The broken cabin was a sad dwelling made up of scavenged wood and rusted nails. A garden of overgrown weeds and grass conquered a dirt road. We had two bedrooms, a living room, and a kitchen. A graying picket fence guarded the front, only the front, because the cabin perched right at edge of the outer ring of Olympus, our home at the end of the world.

  We called it the Fringe, where the poor lived, a shanty town made up of hastily thrown together homes, shops, and bars. Our cabin, however, sat far apart from even them, as if we weren’t even good enough for the downtrodden. Clouds and birds as far as the eye could see. On those clear days or nights, if you had the cogs to peek out over the edge, you’d find the Earth waiting far below. I approached the cabin, sat on the rotting steps, and gathered myself, still bombarded by the memories of the past. They flipped from heartbreak to heartbreak.

  On a rainy Tuesday morning, I sat on the porch watching the airships drift by the horizon. Airmen ran about their daily chores, swabbing decks and rolling heavy cargo back and forth, while others manned the ropes that kept the massive air balloons under control. I knew I this was my future. Dad’s breath may have always stunk of whiskey, but he pulled some strings and got me a spot on the Gibson, an exploration vessel that spent months away at a time.

  My heart shattered when he told me.

  His hard-callused hands squeezed my shoulders a little too tight, and his lost eyes reflected the hopelessness of a man who wasted his life. “You won’t get anywhere being a Fringe Rat. They’ll take all your best years, suck you dry, and leave you a nobody.”

  His intentions were good. But, I had no desire to be a deck swabber.

  Mom would have never had it, not after spending countless nights reading me stories of the world below, and teaching me the history of Olympus, our great city built on motors, balloons, and steam, forever lost in the sea of clouds. Most of all, she taught this silly idea that even though we lived in The Fringe, I could be something more. That all changed when she walked out and never looked back.

  “You’re the man of the house now, Zak,” she said. “Protect your sister.”

  I tried not to cry. I told myself it would be selfish. My mother’s story couldn’t end in this city. No matter how much it broke my heart, our last chapter together would end in goodbyes. I squared my shoulders and smiled. She left me at ten, responsible for a two-year-old sister, a hopeless father, and a life I had no control over. Six years later, I still wondered about her, what sort of life did she lead and did it make her happy? Mostly I wondered when she reached that final chapter, would she remember me.

  An unusually loud thump jolted me back to reality. A strange girl lay some feet away as if she’d fallen from the sky. Old goggles with red and blue colored lenses covered her eyes, framed by skin of the faintest brown; her hair, tousled blonde in one of those pixie cuts, wavered in a light breeze. She had an assortment of mismatched clothes, fingerless gloves, an incredibly long scarf that fluttered behind her, a leather waistcoat, black tights, and unbuckled boots.

  Her sudden presence made me catch my breath, my heart pounded in my ears, and time stood still. I ran to her side wondering what to do. She stared at me, the goggles making her eyes seem enormous, and quite surprised. Words caught in her raspy throat.

  I leaned in close enough to feel warm breath against my ear.

  The stranger shot up, wrapping her arms around my neck with the strength of a metal vice.

  Her lips brushed the skin of my ear. “Save me from the things that move at the corner of sight, the shadows that crawl when there is no light, the baby snatchers that trade in promises and build contracts of lies. The Unseelie—they are about and after me.”

  “What?” I tried to pull her loose, but she only tightened her grip, cutting off my supply of air. She had to be mental; of course, I’d die at the hands of a cogged girl.

  “Do you have any bread?” She released me and sat on the ground cross-legged, a crooked smile on her lips.

  Her sudden change in attitude took me aback. “What are you on about? Have you lost it?”

  “Bread, we need bread!”

  “I think we have, but what for?”

  “Please, it’s my only hope. She collapsed once again, her labored breathing became slow and methodic. Almost as if someone else controlled me, I picked her up in my arms, surprised by the lightness of her body. I didn’t even break a sweat jogging with her back to the cabin. She weighed no more than a small child. I kicked open the door and swung it shut once inside. As soon as we reached the living room, I laid her on the worn out couch next to a fireplace that burned cold and held too many memories. The cushions couldn’t even be bothered to sink under her miniscule weight. She smiled and curled up into a fetal position, mumbling again for some bread.

  In the kitchen, greasy tools and bits of a small steam engine I was working on cluttered the dining room table; empty cups and unwashed dishes covered the counter. I nearly tore the door to the ice chest off its hinges. The sound of glass clattered and a whiff of old milk attacked my senses. A moldy loaf of bread waited in the back, behind other things that no one bothered to throw out. I took my prize back to the front room and found her laid out on her side, knees curled up to her chest, hugging them tightly.

  “I got the bread; it might not be that fresh, though.”

  “Make the crumbs as tiny as possible and line the windows and doors with it!” She waved me off like I annoyed her.

  As I unwound the package, I couldn’t help thinking how foolish it sounded. She had to be pulling my leg for a laugh. I started to walk back to the kitchen, but whirled to my left facing the door as a strange wind blew it open, howling. A caress of frigid, spectral fingers ran over me in the breeze. The girl curled up into a small ball, while the breeze no doubt draped her body with the same eerie feeling that made my skin crawl.

  Outside, the soundless rain fell on our porch. It seemed like the world grew silent, leaving the soft thump in my chest, a slow tap of the drums growing into a marching beat. In one horrifying instant, the rain outlined an invisible shape, a huge hunched-over thing approaching the house. I looked away, rubbing at my eyes. When I looked back, it was gone.

  After slamming the door shut, I broke off pieces of bread and placed them at the base of the door and all the windows, two in the front facing the porch and one in the back kitchen. By the time I finished, my little sister, Alice, stood at our bedroom door staring at me in confusion. She rubbed at sleepy eyes, with her trusty stuffed bear hanging limp at her side. She gave me questioning look that could only be answered with a shrug.

  “I did it,” I said, leaning over the strange woman. “I did what you said. This better not be a prank.”

  “Good,” she mumbled, sounding half-asleep. “Now give me a day or two to regain my strength. End of story.”

  Once she fell asleep, no amount of shaking or prodding could wake her up. I removed the goggles from her face and stared at the long lashes that decorated her eyes. I almost couldn’t understand the complexity of her beauty. Something about her screamed at me for obedience and complete devotion. My stomach ached from my desire to touch her. I pulled the comforter up from the back of the couch and tucked it over her tiny body in a protective shell. I watched her for a couple of seconds more, only to be broken from my hypnotic gaze by Alice shuffling up next to me. She stared at the girl for a bit, and to my surprise, shoved her bear under the comforter. The girl’s arms seemed to instinctively latch on to it, squeezing it tight.

  Alice looked at me. I’d grown so used to her silence I could read her facial expressions just as good as any verbal cue. It was an excited, wanting look.

  “Leave her be.” I rumpled my sister’s unkempt hair. She pulled back. “I need you to watch over her while I go get the doctor.”

  Alice looked around, then back to me. She wanted to know where dad went off to now.

  “Where else?” I said. Alice sighed. I laced up my boots. “I promise I’ll be right back. And umm… don’t move the bread.”

  I sloshed through mud and rain as I marched across the Fringe. Pulling my collar up, holding my coat tight, I looked past the makeshift cabins and homes at the looming lights of the Empyrean, the inner city. The rain and fog could barely conceal the glimpses of the vibrant life I would never have. I jumped at the sudden spray of water from a passing motorbike.

  “You rust bucket!” I yelled as the bike sped off into the night.

  I cleaned myself the best I could while wondering where the girl curled up on my couch came from. Shouldn’t sulk about, I had to get back. I ran the maze of streets; the quicker I got to the doctor’s, the faster I could return to her side. But why was I so drawn to her?

  Luckily, the doctor set up shop in The Fringe, so I didn’t have to waste what little I had on a trolley fare.

  I ran into the office yelling. “Doc, It’s Zak!” The waiting room always looked simple, a couple of chairs spread out evenly around a long wood table with newspaper clippings. Abby must have been in the back, so I banged on the unattended countertop. “Doc! Abby! I need help.”

  “By the gods, Zak! I’m not deaf you know.” She walked in from a back room. The smell of lavender consumed me. Her hair must have been freshly washed. Her short red dress, with a low cut neckline caught me off guard. I’d known Abby since we were kids. It was hard to forget the plain fair-skinned girl I grew up with. She usually wore her charcoal hair up under a hat, and her furious black eyes always had something to prove. But somewhere between then and now an unexpected change happened. My feelings for her always got in the way of our friendship.

  I held back an uncomfortable cough when I realized I’d been staring. She set her hands on her hips and had that knowing look. It must have been annoying for her; all the boys she grew up with who once treated her like a runt now admired her like some sort of goddess, and yet rather than scornful glares, she gave us looks of gentle pride.