Chapter Twenty-Five

I AM NOT leaving. I love you, Charles.

Heat flowed through Berd’s body, steaming her alive as waves of sleepiness overcame her.

It must all have been a dream.

A hint of lavender teased her nostrils and she sneezed. Lavender … so painfully familiar … lavender and the room in the book stack. Hope trickled through her and she shook her head, fighting sleepiness.

If she was dreaming then maybe she had never returned home, maybe Charles still carried her...

She shivered and forced her eyes open. “Charles?”

She was back! Back in the book stack. Back in the little blue room. Back in Charles’s arms!

She wept as she snuggled against his steel chest. It was akin to embracing a rock, except now she knew why. Even the chrysanthemum in his buttonhole was frozen. Charles must have been at the end of his strength when he carried her. Gine had pumped Charles full of energy and something had gone wrong...

The agony in her chest tightened. She ran her fingers through his jet hair then over his poor frozen face. Snow-white crystals had formed like miniature diamonds on the tips of his lashes and brows. She remembered how in some other life her strangled cry had echoed about the room as cold water swelled up and enveloped her.

Only now there was no water. The panels in the walls were back in place. The door of the elevator was closed and faint white light, as if from hidden daybreak, poured from the cornices of the room.

She massaged her throat, trying to understand what had happened and her palm slid over brocade instead of silk. She stared down at peacock green in place of mauve. Gone were her torn and ripped blouse and pants. Like Charles, they were both attired in the same garments they wore at the Fotheringay mansion. Even his hair was clipped... Either she had really returned or this was this some trick of Gine’s.

“Charles, please, please, come back to me.”

His skin was ice-blue. His lips blistered and peeled. She knew that if she kissed him she would likely tear her lips on the jagged surface.

She closed her eyes and pressed her mouth onto his. His lips had the texture of frozen custard skin...

Still she hung on, unsure if this was what she was supposed to be doing. In all the fairy tales she had read, it had always been the prince who did the kissing.

The air grew heavy with the sound of rushing water. Its song pressed upon ears. After a minute, she drew back, unable to feel her lips. If only she knew how to kiss.

Then terrified that drawing back might mean losing him, she pressed down again harder, trying to fill the contours of his lips with hers, banish his cold with her warmth. Unmoving, she waited. Oh, why had she always refused to kiss him before!

She kissed him, again and again and again. The sound of her empty kisses echoed about the room, reminders of failure. Finally, in exhaustion, she pulled back. Or tried to. She was stuck.

Kissing Charles was like kissing a frozen lamppost in the depth of winter. She tried to force her tongue through, to wet enough of the surface so she could escape.

Slowly, ever so slowly her lips began to pull away only…

His moved. His lips moved!

She felt the butterfly flicker of lashes against her cheeks as his eyes opened. So close she was cross-eyed. And then it was no longer her unmoving lips, but his and hers, both moving.

All she heard was water as it pattered down the walls around her. She knew now she could pull apart only she didn’t.

She was finally kissing him. And he was kissing her back.

Charles’s pupils widened and narrowed and as he focused and saw her, actually saw her, he came back to life with a jerk, his body swayed, collapsed and then they were on the ground, laughing.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” they both cried out as they tried to grasp onto and support the other.

Even as they stared at one another, each was leaning forward again only before their lips met, the ground shuddered as if twenty cannons had fired close by.

“What’s happening?” Berd called out as Charles yanked her up.

With the elevator door shut, it was impossible to see outside. As soon as she was on her feet, he called out, “Wait here,” then released her and hurtled alone towards the elevator.

The sod was going to leave her behind! She raced after him.

Charles turned his head, saw she had followed and groaned. “Please.” Worry shone in his eyes.

“No!”

The book stack rattled. She lost her footing. Charles caught her before she fell, but this time instead of demanding she remain, he pulled her inside the elevator as the door slid open.

She was sure they had destroyed the stack’s energy source. “How is this possibl—”

“Down!” he hissed, dragging her onto the floor.

Outside the landscape had darkened as if dusk, and neither golden sky nor green-enamelled ground could be seen. They were suspended in a calm cylinder of ginger-scented air. But something had caused the stack to shake.

A mile away, sparks of red light glistened to the left.

“He’s started.” Charles’s voice was grim as he stabbed the button with the number ‘24’ on it.

The door closed. No need to explain who ‘he’ was. Or ‘it’.

Thunder boomed in her ears. The stack rattled, the glass walls shook. Blue bursts followed to the right. She cupped her ears to stop the pain, squeezed her stomach tight as her whole body shook with the next waves of sound.

They were the target.

Once she had suspected Gine of injuring her so she would be forced to partake of the energy. Now she wouldn’t put it past him to injure Charles, just so he could pump him full of energy. While Charles had programmed Gine to always save his life, Gine was under no obligation not to kill her.

Between each explosion, a heavy silence pressed like a weight on her chest: a silence more terrifying than the explosions. She had thought at first that it was the explosions she had to fear, but quickly learnt otherwise. It was in that gap of silence, in that interval when she had no knowledge as to whether she would be hit the next second; of being alive or dead; of where the next impact would occur; of the end of onslaught. It was in that long moment she learnt who she was.

Nothing. For all her pride and accomplishments, her wealth and intelligence, in the end she was simply a sack of bones.

Silence, the great leveller, was more frightening than sound.

“Are you all right?” Charles demanded as the ground rocked violently. Something titanic, hidden inside, was erupting.

Her head ducked up. “How’s the elevator working?”

Charles pushed her head down protectively. “Why wouldn’t it be working?”

“I thought we destroyed this book stack.”

“Gine has a lot of energy at his disposal. He’s been repairing himself.”

Repairing himself.

Thanks to the energy she had brought in with her, Gine now had a physical form. He had his own two hands. And he could enter the stack. This explained why all the panels were intact. But a machine that could repair itself meant that Gine was becoming more and more invincible by the minute. She had to find out how and from where this energy was coming.

By now it was so bright that she would have believed Charles if he told her they were nearing the sun. Even on the ride there was evidence of Gine’s growing power. The elevator reached the top in less than a minute.

The low-ceilinged, dome-shaped room they entered was walled in steel panels, riveted together and lit by hidden lights secreted in the cornices. In the centre rose a copper chair, fronted by a quarter-circle panel filled with controls and what looked suspiciously like a steering wheel. The stink of paraffin and motor oil filled her nostrils.

Charles settled himself in the chair and flicked switches. Banks of ruby lights flashed as the stack’s engine restarted. Part of the walls and the roof slid open, giving them a view of half a circumference. Cold air caused her skin to tighten, goose pimpling her arms and legs. It was either that or fear.

Showers of green, blue and red light bloomed, brightening the sky as the explosions tore the air apart. Gigantic dying flowers. Their touch poison. Their scent gunpowder. Even in all this danger, her breath caught at their ethereal beauty.

Thunder exploded, ripping the sky in shock waves, blowing the locks of her hair off her shoulders. Mist peppered her face. She shivered, feeling she was a wishbone wrestled between the hands of giants.

She was actually in battle.

Even when she was on the last carriage on the train she had been indoors. Here she was exposed to the elements, several stories high, and a target.

“Berd!” Charles swivelled to face her. “When the stack starts up, talking will be difficult. I want to apologise. I know I promised not to kiss—”

“No! I wanted to, just as much as you did.” She blushed at her admission.

He gave her a tiny, proud smile then pumped a pedal. “Ready?” he called out.

She barely heard him over the roaring of the stack. She nodded and gripped onto the back of his chair.

“Hang on.” He released a lever and the book stack rattled, shook and staggered forward. Headlights lit up the ground in front of them like twin tallow eyes in the dark.

“Beats walking,” he laughed into her ears. “At least I did something right.”

He was blaming himself for Gine. “How can you see?”

He pushed on into the darkness for a while before he answered. “Can’t. Half-speed. London fog. Helped.” As if the memory cheered him, he halted and gave her a lofty grin.

It reminded her once more of the god she had first met. She grinned back.

“Watch,” he instructed as the stack ploughed on again.

It appeared that he was expecting to give her a chance to operate the stack. Charles never explained where they were going. He didn’t need to, because there was but one logical target. Gine was becoming too powerful, therefore he had to be destroyed, and the only way to do so was to strike at his heart and brain. Its soul.

The Mill.

The stack’s headlight caught on some object that glimmered back, not like polished glass but a dull brown. Charles swung the headlights in a 180-degree arc, searching.

A line of about twenty copper book stacks blockaded their path, resembling naval vessels in formation as they prepared for battle, but otherwise the enamel-green landscape was clear.

She gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on the back of his steel chair. She didn’t have to wait long to find out how would Charles handle the situation.

Charles pressed his foot to the floor. Their stack sped up.

She gasped. He was going to crash into them! She buried her forehead into the curve of his neck and shoulder as she waited for the impact, held her breath, looking up barely in time to see their stack crashing through the centre of the copper perimeter. Smashing into them broadside.

On impact the shock waves of a hundred cannons firing exploded in her head. Sound vanished as if her ears had popped multiple times. Her mouth opened, but she heard nothing. Everything appeared to freeze. Even heavy bits of metal that had flown up in the air looked inexplicably as light as eiderdown. Then sound flew back into her ears as the world burst, returning, throbbing painfully into life. Metal debris crashed around them, pounding the landscape like cannon balls.

Her ears were ringing. Her balance shot. Then the front half of the stack dipped and reared upwards like a prancing horse, and she was slipping and sliding, fighting desperately not to lose her grip. For if she did, there was nothing to keep her on the platform. Charles, at least, had his chair.

The whole stack shook as it righted itself. Clouds of metallic dust pocked the air. On her knees and sobbing now that it was over, she pressed her nose to her sleeve to help her breathe, and prayed their stack did not disintegrate.

It held. But it was far from over. She expected Charles to make a run for it, but with great precision, he did the opposite. He reversed.

He was crazy! “What are you doing!”

Charles was already moving their stack to the left. He smashed their stack into the line which toppled to the ground like dominoes. The shock of each mighty collapse slammed like a hand into her chest and her head jerked back repeatedly. She did not think she could take much more punishment, but as each stack thundered to the ground and promptly burst into violent red-and-yellow flames, her screams of fear turned into whoops of joy. Burning paraffin fumes curtained the air, shimmering rainbow auroras.

Charles did the same manoeuvre to the right. Even better, he kept their stack stable as he learnt swiftly how to handle the one he steered. The ground shook and shuddered as the massive structures slammed into the green enamel. Water from boilers spilled onto the ground. Steam hissed upwards.

But the stacks were down.

Breathless, she watched as he navigated them out of the danger zone. He manoeuvred to the right, but as he did so, she knew their escape had been too easy. Gine was planning something else. Something more deadly. This attack had merely been a warning: Gine observing how they operated for future record.

You’ve taught me well, Gine.

Lights from the Mill blazed, a Milky Way of stars about half a mile off when Charles slowed the stack. He turned the motor off for the explosions were now behind them. After the constant shuddering and sound, the silence screamed in her ears.

When he pulled her onto his lap, she saw his cheek was gashed and bleeding. She raised her hand to touch his face, but he caught it and pressed it to his lips. His eyes closed for a second and a muscle in his jaw twitched. Then he opened his eyes and gazed into her face, studying every detail of her features. He gently touched the scabs on her bruised lips.

“How I have hurt you. You should hate me. Not have come back,” he whispered, pained.

“I had to.” She could not look at him, suddenly unaccountably shy.

But even as he pressed a kiss upon her forehead, the ground shook. Something or some things large were heading their way. Yes, Gine had other plans.

But this may be hers and Charles’s last moment together. She did not want to rush it. His skin was flushed from the activity of the drive, but chilled thanks to the frigid air. She pressed her lips to his temple where the hair was damp around the hairline and under the sweat, she smelt metal. That explained the liberal application of eau de cologne. She bit her lower lip, held back the tears.

As if he sensed her grief, he wrapped his arms around her. Though it was obvious they were still in danger, his whole focus was on her. His voice was sunshine. “Why?”

“B— because you weren’t in that other world.”

Charles groaned. “Gine is not going to let us out again.”

“He did once—”

“Only because he thought I was dying.”

It was true then; Charles really had been dying. She stared down at the ground. “Because of me.”

“No. No! Of course not.” He embraced her tighter. As if in imitation the walls of the stack creaked. A rivet popped out. The stack could not hold up much longer.

It had been her fault. “It was the water. A short-circuit—”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“So what do we do now?” She felt him hold his breath then release it slowly.

He spoke carefully. “I want to take you to the Faraday—”

“No!” So that’s why he had stopped the stack.

“Please, my darling. You have no idea the dilemma I underwent last night. How much I wanted to see you again. I lost you then. Back there I lost you a second time. I cannot—”

“You did what you did because you love me.”

He swore softly, but when he looked into her face, his sapphire eyes were gentle. “You should have remained at your aunt’s.”

He had sent her away for her own safety. “I can help you. Let me help you.”

“You have no idea how strong Gine has become.”

“I saw the circles of statuary,” she answered stubbornly.

The rumblings were louder now.

The walls shuddered.

He cupped her cheeks. “He’s capable of more than just pulling in things that are connected to him, do you understand?”

She nodded. The statue of Pan, though it wasn’t in the room with them, she had no doubt it was somewhere in the Engine. As were the other objects Gine had sucked in.

Charles searched her face, his voice strained. “He’s been pulling in more people. That’s how he got so strong. Only he’s turned them into energy. He pulled in all the men that were sent for the Engine.”

Gine had swallowed all those people and turned them into energy. And possibly Charles’s servants. The house had seemed rather bare. She pressed her hand into her stomach to stop from throwing up.

“Maybe this will convince you I am wrong for you.” He tugged at the fingers of his gloves.

“Nothing will.” But already she was scared.

She longed to stop him, to tell him that no matter what she would always love him, but the words froze on her tongue as the gloves slid off for underneath his hand was full metal: stainless steel. He flexed his fingers and then tap-tapped the tips together. The clicks she heard reminded of some hideous clockwork apparition. Only this was alive. Living. Charles had become his own mons...

No, she had to believe Charles was in there.

Nausea rose in her. Before she could stop herself she had shuddered and gagged. She pressed her cold fingers against her mouth as she fought the horror coursing through her body.

At her reaction, he smiled grimly. By now the shaking was so loud he had to yell. “So is my chest. Now do you understand?”

Her heart wrenched. “I love you,” she squeezed the words out.

He closed his eyes then opened them and in their clear reflection she saw his heart breaking. “You have no idea how long I have waited to hear you say those words, but you cannot mean it. You must not for your own sake. Do you not know I am half machine?”

He was trying to tell her that to survive he would have to continue imbibing energy.

He would become fully machine. An engine.

The explosions were tiny pinpricks. The ground continued to shake. Or maybe it was only her.

“It— it doesn’t matter. I still love you. It’s— it’s...” She reached out and placed her hand on his chest. She could feel no heartbeat. Charles’s chest neither rose nor fell. It was as cold as steel.

He watched quietly.

“It’s what’s inside,” she whispered.

“What’s inside? I have no heart. Why else am I able to hurt you again and again.”

“Then don’t make me leave you. You suffered. So did I. Don’t make me suffer any more! I can help you.”

With precise movements, he pulled on his glove. He did not look at her.

“You are planning to destroy Gine.”

He said nothing as he buttoned up his glove, his movements deft.

Beast! He was not going to give her any clues, but she persisted. “Before you do that you need to program Gine to save you and me. Use an AND GATE.”

He halted and narrowed an eye at her. “An AND GATE?”

She could tell he was impressed but trying not to show it. “Yes, when you destroy Gine, you are hoping Gine will remove me from the Engine as my life will be in danger. But you can’t guarantee that will happen.”

“I see.”

“If you use an AND GATE to instruct Gine to save me AND you, and hardwire that instruction in the Mill or use an operation card or whatever it is that you do. Insert that within the Mill rather than in a stack, then we will be saved.” She tried not to gloat in her smile.

“What about self-preservation?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Self-preservation. It’s what any animal uses to protect itself when in danger. Gine foresees a threat in me so he removes the threat.”

“You are his master. He cannot—”

“Bite the hand that...” Charles rubbed his chin tiredly. “What living creature would not kill in order to live?”

Berd closed her eyes. She had not thought this possible, but the American War of Independence... the French Revolution. In history, even kings had lost their heads...

“I don’t want Gine to see you as a threat and remove you, but if you are with me the likelihood is greater.”

No, surely Gine would obey his programming. Charles had instructed Gine to do everything in his power to keep him alive. Hopefully that instruction was still intact in a stack that was not one of the wrecks burning on the plains behind them.

She snapped open her eyes. It was clear now what she had to do. “Then I perish alongside you. I entered the Engine willingly. I will do what it takes. Besides, what if he doesn’t? Do you want me trapped inside the Engine forever?”

“Or you’ll what? No, don’t tell me. After all only you were foolish enough to re-enter the Engine.” He slammed one fist into the steering wheel. “Well, what if we are trapped? Would you still love me if you could never leave the Engine? If I am all there is?”

Trapped inside the Engine... She had entered the Engine in an attempt to win Charles back to her. She had won, in a way. Only she had placed him in danger. She had to get him out. But he was still trying to push her away. Gine had removed Charles from the Engine when he was close to dying. Charles’s plan to save them was to come close to dying once more, but Gine would not fall for such a trick again. Gine was smarter than that, but she doubted she could get Charles to see that.

Only one thing to do: Reprogram Gine.

Instruct him to save both of them and to remove them from the Engine immediately.

She would make her way back to the Mill. “You win. I’ll wait here,” she lied. If she failed then at least she had divided Gine’s attention....

Divide and conquer.

Great plan of Gine’s, but he didn’t have a monopoly on it. She could use it, too.

She could be bait.