The Wild Adventure of Jasper Renn
Author: Kady Cross
Date: 2013-11-01 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Young Adult; Fantasy; Romance
Description: In this companion novella to The Girl with the Iron Touch, American cowboy Jasper Renn finds himself in a situation his lightning-fast skills cannot rescue him from… After surviving a triumph-turned-tragedy in New York City, Jasper is determined to secure a happier future with his gifted band of friends. So when the group's mechanical genius Emily is abducted, he'll plunge into England's darkest places to rescue her…. But his old flame Wildcat is turning London town upside down to find her missing sister, and Jasper finds the attraction between himself and the fierce beauty as tempting and dan
Publisher: Harlequin Teen
Rights: Copyright (c) 2013 by Kady Cross

In this companion novella to The Girl with the Iron Touch, American cowboy Jasper Renn finds himself in a situation his lightning-fast skills cannot rescue him from...

After surviving a triumph-turned-tragedy in New York City, Jasper is determined to secure a happier future with his gifted band of friends. So when the group’s mechanical genius Emily is abducted, he’ll plunge into England’s darkest places to rescue her....

But his old flame Wildcat is turning London town upside down to find her missing sister, and Jasper finds the attraction between himself and the fierce beauty as tempting and dangerous as ever. Their trail leads deep into the city’s most unusual circus. Soon, Jasper will find his loyalties—and future—tested more than he could ever imagine....

And don’t miss Jasper’s continuing exploits in The Girl with the Iron Touch by Kady Cross, available now from Harlequin TEEN.

The Wild Adventure
of Jasper Renn

Kady Cross

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Epilogue

Excerpt

Chapter One

Wildcat McGuire thought of herself as something of a city girl, but as the dirigible she was on drifted toward the Hyde Park landing bay, Cat realized that Manhattan, where she’d grown up, was just an island. When New York was founded by the Dutch in 1624, London was already almost sixteen centuries old.

London was the biggest city she’d ever seen—sprawling out for miles. And the buildings! New York had its share of awe-inspiring buildings—towering ones—but London had so many! Some of them looked downright ancient.

The smells and sounds of the city rose to greet her as she stood on the deck, leather coat wrapped around her to keep the chill of the wind from seeping into her bones. Some of the smells and sounds were pleasant, others were not. That was something London and New York had in common—perfumed opulence piled on top of slums and stench.

But the most important thing about London at the moment was that her sister was here. Somewhere. And so was Jasper Renn, the gorgeous cad who had walked out on her twice. She might still have tender feelings for him—which made her hate him all the more—but she would never trust him with her heart ever again. With her life, yes, but not with anything that mattered.

Closer and closer to the ground the airship drifted. Its timbers creaked in the wind, sails flapping. A bell sounded, signaling their approach to port. Cat had her pack at her feet, ready to jump ship as soon as possible. Sparrow had a week’s lead on her, and she didn’t want to lose even more time. She just wanted to find her sister and take her someplace safe. Five Points was no longer that place, since it had been bought up and was about to be destroyed. She would find a new home for them, of that she had no doubt.

It was going on twilight, with the threat of rain, but that didn’t stop spectators from gathering in Hyde Park to watch the dirigibles land. Tarnation, she was going to be forced to depart in that slow-moving line just like everyone else. Jumping over the side would only draw notice. Usually she could be as patient as the moon, but not today. Not since she realized her sister had run away.

As she set foot on British soil, Cat cast a wary glance around. Either London was an exceptional city or this was the “good” part of it. She had read that Hyde Park was in the hoity part of town, and now she could see for herself. This large expanse of greenery was just as fancy, or fancier, than Central Park. The richies must despise having such a bustling center of travel so close to their mansions. Still, air travel was expensive, and those of the lower classes couldn’t afford it.

Cat was one of the few exceptions to that rule. She wasn’t poor anymore, but she’d been born into that dismal world, she and her sister. After Abe Lincoln abolished slavery, her grandparents had gathered up the children they still had and headed north. Her mother had been fairly young at the time, but she had scars from a whip on her back all the same. Her father had been born on a farm in Ireland, only to come to New York and live in the slums, where the air stank of poverty and ignorance.

But Seamus McGuire had been a fighter, and he made good money fighting. Her mother, Bess, knew how to sew, and she’d made beautiful clothes. It was enough to elevate them from Five Points—but not much. When her father was killed during a fight when she was twelve, Cat had known she’d need to take care of her mother and sister. She’d used her unusual talents and physical differences to steal, fight, run...whatever was needed. It wasn’t long before she had her own gang.

She’d turned leadership over to Mick before leaving Manhattan. She was done with crime. She’d lost her taste for it around the time Jasper Renn had strolled back into her neighborhood.

Speaking of neighborhoods...good grief. She hadn’t been paying attention as she walked, and she now found herself on the street outside the park. The traffic was similar to New York, with many fine gentlemen and ladies passing by in gorgeous carriages—both steam driven and horse drawn. Beautiful buildings lined the streets, some of them hundreds of years old, others more modern in their appearance. It was noisy, and smelled strange, but it was very, very grand.

“Be needin’ a cab, miss?”

Cat turned her head. Beside her stood a young man with carrot-red hair and bright blue eyes. If his coloring didn’t give him away as Irish, his speech would have for certain. His expression changed when he saw her face. Saw her skin.

“Aye,” she replied, falling easily into her father’s accent. “I would.”

The boy hesitated, then grinned, all teeth and freckles. He’d been all set to distrust her because of how she looked, but her voice won him over. Prejudice was such a strange thing.

The boy let loose a shrill whistle that immediately brought a black cab hauled by an automaton horse to the curb. The “animal” was flat black with gleaming brass. Intricately carved swirls decorated the black parts, making it a true work of art. A real craftsman had made this beast.

Her ginger friend took her pack and set it inside the coach before holding the door for her. She handed him a shilling for his help.

“Where to, miss?” he asked.

“The Continental,” she replied just before he closed the door and relayed the address to the driver. It was a new hotel. Upscale, but she could afford it. It was close to Mayfair, which was what made it all the more desirable. Mayfair wasn’t just the neighborhood where Jasper lived, but where she believed her sister now resided, as well.

She saw two women with skin like hers as the carriage pulled up to her hotel. One had to be the other’s mother. She had the arm of a handsome blond man, who also had the arm of the younger girl. People looked at them, but not with the same degree of surprise or disgust as she sometimes saw in America. Slavery had been abolished here half a century before the States finally put an end to it. She wasn’t naive enough to think that everyone in London would treat her in a manner that had nothing to do with her skin, but she hoped it wouldn’t be held against her. That sort of thing made her angry, and when she was angry she had a tendency to hit people. The only person who made her feel as though they were truly equals was Jasper, damn his eyes.

Cat paid her driver, slung her pack over her shoulder and walked into the hotel. No one paid much attention to her. There were many people coming and going, of all shapes, sizes and colors, and all of them seemed far too busy to concern themselves with a tall girl whose clothes were a little wrinkled, but clean, and whose hair was pinned up under a wide-brimmed hat.

She approached the desk and gave her name. An Asian man who was shorter and thinner than her took a punch card from a slot on the wall and asked her to follow him. He led her across the marble-floored foyer with its Grecian statues, automaton shoe-shine station and young girl trying to sell leaflets on things to do while in London. He led her into the lift, closed the iron outer gate and then the inner brass cage. He inserted a punch card in the slot and then dialed the floor number on the wheel beside it. He didn’t speak, which was fine by her.

The lift stopped at the sixth floor. Her escort opened the gates and led her to a door that had the number 606 etched on a shiny brass placard. He opened the door and held it for her. As she crossed the threshold he offered her the punch card. “Your key. May I be of any other service to you, miss?”

“No,” she said. “Thank you very much.” She tipped him a shilling. He didn’t seem insulted, so she relaxed a bit.

He gave her a stiff bow. “Enjoy your stay.” And then he left her alone in the most opulent room she’d ever seen.

A huge bed sat in the middle of the back wall, draped in beautiful gold brocade that matched the drapes. The carpet was a rich cream, plush and soft beneath her feet when she kicked off her boots. All the furniture was oak and polished to a high shine. There was even a tiny water closet that she didn’t have to share with anyone else.

“Sweetness,” she whispered with a grin. She splashed water on her face, repinned her unruly hair, smoothed some of the wrinkles out of her clothes and then stepped back into her boots, put on her hat and slipped her punch card into the satchel she wore across her body.

She’d gotten the address of the house on Hertford Street from a friend of her sister’s, a foolish little thing who didn’t know why Cat was so upset. After all, Sparrow had only run away with the man she loved.

A man who was at least twice the girl’s age, a gambler and a heavy drinker. A man Sparrow hadn’t bothered to introduce to her big sister, which meant the stupid girl knew she shouldn’t run off with him. The girl had more impulsiveness than sense. From what Cat had seen, that was often the case with baby sisters, having been doted upon and spoiled by the rest of the family. There’d be no more of that. Once she found her sister and dragged her home, things were going to change.

She marched straight up the drive of the dauntingly grand mansion, up the steps to the front door, grabbed the pull-cord and gave it a sharp yank. She could hear the bell ring inside the house. A few moments later, the door opened, and a sturdy old man with a bald head and a bushy mustache gave her a narrow look.

“Deliveries and servants use the back entrance.” He shoved the door toward her.

Cat stuck her foot in—ouch!—to prevent him from shutting the heavy slab in her face. He was lucky she didn’t make him eat it. Answerin’ some swell’s door didn’t make him better than her. “I’m not deliverin’ and I’m not a servant. I’m here for Sparrow McGuire.”

The butler froze, what little color he had draining from his face. “I beg your pardon?”

“Sparrow. McGuire. Beautiful girl. Skin like mine. She came here from New York City with Lord Charles Berkley, Viscount Canton—or whatever you call him.”

“My dear girl, I’m afraid you are mistaken. There is no one here named after a bird, and no one here named—”

“Dunich, who was that at the— Oh.” Charles Berkley stopped in the middle of the hall and stared at her. He was tall and lean and handsome, for an Englishman. Unfortunately for him, he wouldn’t be the latter for long.

Cat pushed the old man out of her way. He was sturdy, but she was strong and had rage on her side. She stepped over the threshold with determination, stalking toward the viscount like a lion about to pounce.

“Where is she?” she demanded, taking off her glasses.

To his credit, Berkley didn’t even try to lie to her. He just whirled around and ran.

She often had that effect on people.

Tucking her glasses into her jacket pocket, Cat gave chase. She was a fast runner—even faster when she adjusted herself enough to run on all fours, but this made for a longer chase, which was often very enjoyable to the freak side of her nature.

Cat didn’t know why she was the way she was, though Jasper reckoned she’d “evolved,” like him and his friends. All she knew for certain was that she was different and she liked it, even though wearing dark spectacles all the time was a bit of a nuisance, but her slitted eyes made folks uncomfortable.

Berkley was lean, but he wasn’t terribly fit. Cat caught him at the top of the stairs—actually two from the top, but who was counting? The viscount tripped over his own feet and went sprawling to the dark blue carpet. Cat immediately pounced, positioning herself so that while not on him, she certainly had him caged.

She smelled him, mouth partially open. It was weird, but she could taste certain things on the air, such as fear. It had both smell and taste, and Berkley was definitely afraid, given the sour essence coming off him.

“Don’t hurt me,” he pleaded.

Cat hissed at him. She preferred hissing to growling because it better showcased her fangs. “Where’s my sister? And if you lose control of your bladder I’m going to slice off your eyebrows.” She held up one finger, topped by a wickedly curved claw, just to point a finer point—no pun intended—on the threat.

“I don’t know.” He actually whimpered. “I swear to heaven I do not know!”

“You brought her back here with you.”

“Yes, but not to my house.” She must have had some reaction to his statement because he began stammering to correct it. “I mean, I put Sparrow up in her own house, with her own servants. I gave her everything she could want, but she disappeared. I thought she robbed—er, went back to New York.”

So Sparrow was in the wind. She believed the viscount because his fear of her was genuine. Also, there was only the slightest trace of her sister’s scent left in the house.

“She doesn’t care about material things,” she informed Berkley. “And I wager she didn’t take a thing with her that you hadn’t given her outright. She loved you, you know. She thought you loved her.”

“I did. I do!”

Cat stood up. “Not enough to marry her, though.”

“Marry her?” He looked aghast as he pushed himself into a sitting position on the stairs. “I couldn’t marry her. I have to marry a woman of my station—it’s what’s expected of me.”

She stared at him. How could she have thought people were different here?

“My little sister is out there alone in a big city because you’re an arse. You’d better hope I find her safe and healthy, because if I don’t, I’ll be coming back for a little chat.”

Berkley turned even paler. God, he was practically a ghost. Cat sneered at him before hopping on the banister and riding it down to the floor. She jumped off with her usual grace and strode toward the door. The butler actually held it open for her. She mocked him with a flourish of a bow before stepping out into the evening.

Where the devil had her sister gone, and how was she ever going to find her when she was unfamiliar with the land? She was an excellent tracker, but this was going to be like trying to find a particular piece of hay in an entire stack. She knew absolutely nothing about this city or the people who lived in it. But she knew someone who did. Jasper Renn, who she’d sworn never to speak to again.

Damn.

Chapter Two

Jasper Renn was soaked in so much sweat his clothes clung to him like a second skin. He’d used his talent for moving incredibly fast to run around England—literally—and had returned to King House only seconds earlier. His body mercifully tired, he hauled himself upstairs to his room, shut the door and began undressing as he walked into the small, attached private bathing chamber.

He turned the taps in the tub until the water gushing from them was the right temperature, and then threw the lever that forced the stream to come out the shower attachment. Naked, he climbed in, letting the hot water rinse away the sweat and stink and uselessness he felt.

Miss Emily, darling of a girl, was lost. Taken. He’d just searched the entire country for a clue to her whereabouts and found nothing. Nothing. She couldn’t have dropped off the face of the earth, which just left the uncomfortable realization that he’d missed something.

But then, missing something seemed to be a talent of his, as well. He had missed that Mei, the girl he once loved with all his heart, was not who he thought she was. And he’d missed the fact that she loved someone else. In the end, he’d missed being able to save her, as well.

He didn’t blame Griffin for her death, not really. Griffin hadn’t known that his abilities would trap Mei in a wall, crushing her. Mostly Jasper blamed himself for not being able to stop her before she died. He blamed himself that she had fallen in with Reno Dalton. He blamed himself for a lot of things. He had more regrets than a man of eighteen should be carrying on his shoulders.

He couldn’t save Mei. Couldn’t find Emmy. And he couldn’t forget Cat. When he’d first gotten involved with Wildcat a couple years ago, he’d still been half in love with Mei. He’d told himself Cat was only having fun—like he was. When it came to lying to himself, he was plumb brilliant. The second time—he’d stopped by New York on his way back from San Fran a little while ago—he’d known it wasn’t just meaningless fun for either of them, but he’d still left. In fact, he couldn’t have run away fast enough. The joke was on him, though. He’d run away and thoughts of her followed him. Haunted him.

If Jasper regretted Mei, then he...well, he couldn’t think of an adequate word to describe the depth of his remorse where Cat was concerned, but it was deep. The bottomless kind. It had to be, because he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She was fine, of course. That girl would always come out on top. He could write to her, but what would he say? That he was sorry, but he just couldn’t get involved with another girl who lived on the wrong side of the law? It made him sound like a pansy. And New York held too many painful memories for him to ever entertain living there. Besides, if Dalton ever got out of jail, he might come looking for revenge, and London would be a lot more difficult for him to get to, especially since Griffin had connections with the local port authorities.

No, London was where his life was now. Where his friends were. Where he wanted to be, even though it was sometimes painful to look Griffin in the eye, still ashamed of involving his friends in that mess. They had traveled all the way to Manhattan—at great expense—to bring him home, and learned all about his shady past in the process. Finley had even infiltrated Dalton’s gang and risked her own life to save him.

How could he ever begin to repay that kind of debt?

Tarnation, but he was tired of thinking about this stuff. Finally feeling clean, he turned the taps and dried off with a soft towel, which he then secured around his waist. He just wanted to go to sleep and wake up someone different.

Or at least have something to wake up for. It was maudlin, but a little happiness didn’t seem too much to ask.

Barefoot, he walked into his room, rubbing his hand in his hair to make the waves dry faster. He had just taken three steps in when he froze. Jasmine. Sunshine. He knew that scent. His heart slammed against the inside wall of his chest. His mouth dried up like the Nevada desert.

“Hey, Jas.”

That voice. He closed his eyes. Was this a joke? Had he finally lost his ever-loving mind? Now he was imagining her there—smelling her, even!

But that tingle between his shoulder blades—that was real. That sensation of knowing that if someone had a knife to bury in your back you’d be dying at that very moment. Very slowly, he turned, his hand instinctively going to his hip.

“You gonna shoot me with a towel?” There was mockery in that husky tone. “Or you got something under there I should know about?”

Jasper forced his shoulders to relax. Forced himself to relax. “Cat. What the blue blazes are you doing in London?” How had he managed to sound so calm and collected? She was in his bedroom—and he remembered things they’d done in hers—sitting there with dust on her boots, as if she owned the place. She’d removed her hat, and all her hair, that glorious riot of corkscrew curls, fell over her shoulders.

She had the best hair.

Gracefully, she rose out of the chair and walked toward him. Instinctively, he placed his hands in front of his privates, because she had the look of a woman intent on damaging a man. “Why, Jasper. I came to see you, of course.”

Were that but true. His heart reacted as though it was gospel and not a honeyed lie just to torment him. “The only way you’d come to see me is if I was hanging by a noose.” He knew it was true, because he had hurt her, and Cat was one of those women you could fight with, curse and wish to the very devil, and she’d still come back. But hurt her...

She stuck out her lower lip. She also had the best lips. Red and soft, he’d kiss them if he didn’t think he was in enough trouble already. “You make me sound evil.”

“No room for evil in you with all that pride takin’ up space,” he retorted. “Be honest, Cat. You didn’t come here for me. You’d rather poke out your own eye than confess to missing me, so why are you here?”

Something flickered in her eyes. Something strange. Could it be that she had actually missed him? He was such a dolt. Of course she’d missed him. Her feelings had been as sincere as his own.

“Sparrow,” she said softly. “She’s gone.”

Jasper frowned. “Gone? Oh, Cat. Do you mean she’s...dead?”

She shot him a look that said exactly how low she thought his intelligence. “No, I mean she ran off with a rich white man who promised her chocolates and flowers and pretty dresses.”

He swore. She chuckled dryly, as though he’d understated it. “How old is she?”

“Fifteen just this week.”

“How old is the bastard she ran off with?”

“Six and twenty.”

More swearing. Other girls would have squealed in disgust, but Cat looked as those she agreed wholeheartedly. “Do you know who he is?”

“Yeah. Fella not far from here, but that doesn’t matter now.”

“The hell it doesn’t! We’ll go get her and I’ll teach the bounder a thing or two about the dangers of molesting young girls.” Maybe six things—straight out of his Colt.

“She’s not there anymore.”

He hadn’t expected to hear that. “Where is she?”

“Not the foggiest.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze with a direct one of her own. “You and I are no good together, I know that, but I need your help. I know I’m not the easiest woman to get along with, but I wouldn’t come to you if it weren’t important. You and your friends know this city. I can track, but in a place this size it’s next to impossible unless I have a place to start. Will you help me?”

She made it sound as though maybe their breakup had been her fault. Maybe in a way it was, because of her criminal activity, but he’d been the one to run out. “You don’t even have to ask. The others are busy trying to find Emily, but I’ll help you.”

Cat’s brow puckered. “The one you had with you the day you came to collect your belongings?”

“No, that was Finley. Emily’s a sweet little Irish gal who has a way with machines. She disappeared—looks like abduction.”

“It’s contagious.”

If someone else had made that callous a joke, he would have blackened their eye, but somehow Cat managed to say these sorts of things and make the situation a little palatable. “Appears so.”

“Well, you don’t have to help me. I can do this on my own. You should go find your friend. It’s obvious you have a lot of tenderness t’ward her.”

Surprise took hold of his face. He could only imagine the hideous expression that surely had to be convulsing his features. “Miss Emily’s my friend. She has her fella, and I couldn’t be happier for the two of them.” That was a lie. He was happy for them, but sometimes he wondered why it seemed so easy for some people to engage in relationships, while others would never, ever find that sort of happiness. “They don’t need me anyway.” And that was just him being a spoiled brat.

“I don’t need you, either, just so you know.”

Jasper looked at her. She was staring at his chest. His naked chest. Could she see his heart pounding beneath his skin? “But you want me.” His voice was low. “My help, I mean.” He’d never thought himself particularly skilled at flirting, but with Cat it seemed to come naturally.

She swallowed. Slowly, her gaze rose up his chest, his neck, his jaw, and then finally met his. “Yes. I want your help. I don’t like it, but I do.”

Why did he get the feeling she was talking about more than his “help”?

God, she was so pretty. Fierce. He had no right to be thinking about her like this, to wonder what she’d do if he put his arms around her. He remembered the feeling of her skin against his. But she’d be going back to New York, and he would stay in London. She’d go back to crime and he’d go on with Griffin’s bunch. The two of them couldn’t be more different.

Tarnation, but he wanted to kiss her.

“Can we go now?” she asked, gesturing to the open window she must have climbed through.

“I need to let someone know I’m going out, and put some clothes on, ’less you’d prefer I go out like this.” He spread his arms.

Her gaze traveled along the length of him once more. “I’m not keen on attracting attention. That pretty face will get us noticed more than enough.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

She arched a brow, a wry expression on her face. “Like you don’t already know it. I’ve seen you use your looks to make so many girls do what you want. Charm and a pretty face, that’s what you are.”

Now, that sounded like an insult, and it stung. “You must really be worried about Sparrow to come to me.”

“I am.”

“You hate me that much, Cat?”

Her eyes burned with intensity, her vertical pupils wide in the dim light. “I wish I could hate you. I’d be so much happier if I hated you.”

Jasper’s breath hitched a little. If she didn’t hate him... No, there was no future for them. “I wish you hated me, too.”

And then he kissed her.

Chapter Three

Oh, lord.

Cat’s hands came up to grab Jasper by the hair and push him away. Instead, her fingers tangled in his damp curls and pulled him closer. His arms went around her, holding her tight as he kissed her. She kissed him back.

He infuriated her. Could hurt her like no other. He also kissed like a dream and felt like heaven. And he smelled so very, very good—like pie. She didn’t even want to think about how good he looked half-naked. Was he more muscular than the last time she’d seen him? He looked more rugged and less pretty. He was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen, and one of the best people she’d ever known. There weren’t many she’d talk about favorably, but she would about Jasper, even though he’d broken her heart.

He had to feel something for her, because fellas kissed girls they liked differently—either as if they were made of china, or as if he was dying of thirst and she was a cool mountain spring.

Obviously, Jas didn’t think she was fragile.

What was she doing? Her sister was missing and she was digging the fingers of one hand into Jasper’s scalp while her other hand explored his bare shoulder and back. She wanted to rub her face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in.

And Sparrow was out there all alone.

It took all of Cat’s strength to push him away. How stupid was she? She was not going to risk her heart again, especially not at her sister’s expense, but she had no sense when it came to Jasper Renn.

“Get dressed,” she told him. “I’ll wait for you outside.” She slipped out the window and down the side of the house the way she had come up, her claws digging into the stone as she descended. The cool night air was just what she needed to return to sanity. The nerve of him, standing there looking so gorgeous and knowing it! He ought to be ashamed of himself—but really, when a man looked that good, he had to know it, or he was a simpleton.

Above her she heard the window shut. Was he not going to—

“All right, let’s go.”

Cat jumped. She couldn’t help it. One second she’d seen him at the window and before she could finish her thought he was right in front of her. She’d forgotten how fast he was, but it seemed as though maybe he’d gotten even faster.

Jasper grinned. “Nerves frayed, are they, kitten?”

“No.” She scowled. “Call me by that awful name again and I’ll slice you open from belly to throat.”

“You’d have to catch me first.” He turned and walked away, leaving her no choice but to hurry after him. He was not in charge of this search—she was. He was not allowed to make her feel as though he was the boss. Some of it came from pride, but some from her parents. Regardless of their love for each other, her mother had distrusted white folks in general, which made sense, given her family history, and her father had mistrusted everyone who wasn’t Irish. That left Cat with the assurance that she could trust only herself, and possibly Sparrow.

Although it seemed she’d been misguided in that respect. Her sister had just up and left without even a goodbye. Sparrow had been angry at her, and maybe with good reason, but that was no reason to just...abandon her sister.

She was at Jasper’s side when they entered the stables. There was a low level of lighting in there—just enough that most regular folk could barely see to get around. Cat could see everything quite clearly, so when she spotted the velocycles in their bays, she immediately felt a spark of adventure.

“Are we taking two of those?” she whispered.

Jasper shook his head. He wasn’t wearing his hat, which made him look like less of a cowboy. “We’re taking one.”

“But if we find Sparrow...”

He shot her a glance. “Then you’ll either take a hack back to your hotel and I’ll drive the cycle, or you’ll come back here, in which case I’ll just run.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t any big concern.

When had he become so comfortable with his abilities? When she’d first met him, he had been using his talents for nefarious reasons, and he’d seemed pretty torn up over it. He had not been made for a life of crime. Neither had she, it turned out—though she had been very good at it once.

She’d turned to crime to feed herself and her sister, to help people less fortunate and, yes, for money. She was now at a point where she didn’t need much where money was concerned, and stealing, dealing and wheeling just didn’t hold the same allure they once had.

Jasper, on the other hand, was as fascinating—or more so—as he had been on that first meet. The scoundrel.

He straddled one of the cycles, leaving her room to climb onto the padded seat with him. “You’ll have to put your arms around me. You all right with that?”

Was he teasing her? “I think I can handle it.”

“But can you control yourself? I wouldn’t want to drive you into a state of histrionics.”

She glared at him—because she wanted to laugh. “All this English tea and pudding has gone to your head and turned what brain you had to mush.”

“Used too many big words for you, did I?” he asked with a grin. “I’ve been workin’ on my vocabulary, my elocution, my verbosity, my... Damn me, but I can’t think of another word.”

She would not laugh. She would. Not. Laugh.

She laughed. Jasper’s grin grew.

“Don’t be mad at me, Cat. I lied when I said it would be better if you didn’t like me.”

Was that cracking ache in her chest her heart breaking? “I lied, too.” She wasn’t about to point out how many times. “And I’m not mad at you, Jas. Not really. Not much. But you hurt my feelings, boyo, and I can’t forgive you for it.”

His grin slid from his face. “I know, and I’m sorry for it.”

Of course he was. So was she. She climbed onto the cycle behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re over. Just help me find Sparrow.”

He started the velocycle, the low rumble of the engine coming to life like a purring lion. “All right,” he said.

Cat didn’t know which of the three he was in agreement with, and she was afraid to ask. It didn’t matter, she told herself, but she was lying again.

It mattered quite a bit.

* * *

Jasper didn’t know Sparrow that well—he’d met the girl only a few times. She’d been in school most of the time he’d been with Cat. He might not know her, but he knew her sister, and he knew enough girls to have an idea of where Sparrow might go.

Straight into the middle of trouble, which made it all the more important that they find the girl. No one at King House would be upset that he’d left to help Cat. She’d helped them in New York, and like he’d said earlier, they really didn’t need his help to find Emmy. He’d left the report of his search on Griffin’s desk earlier, and a note on his door that he was with Cat and would be back soon. They could reach him on his portable telegraph if they needed him.

Covent Garden was one of the entertainment centers of London. It had theaters, dance halls, taverns and shops where a young woman might get employment. It also had many boardinghouses nearby where those same girls could live if they hadn’t any family. It was one of the first places he’d gone when he arrived in London, so he’d wager that Cat’s little sister had gone there, as well.

It was also the sort of place where predators hunted for naive little girls.

Damnation, but Cat had to be out of her head with worry. And he’d taken advantage of that when he kissed her. True, she’d kissed him back and made him happier than he should have been, but it had been wrong of him.

He’d do it again in an instant. Obviously, he had no willpower where she was concerned.

He drove to an area not far from the Theatre Royal and parked the velocycle in the lengthening shadows. Nighttime was when this place truly came alive.

“Did you bring something of hers for scent?” he asked, slipping his leg over the machine as she climbed off. “A photograph?”

“Both.”

He nodded. “All right, then, let’s go ask some questions. Best let me do most of the talking. Folks won’t be inclined to trust you.”

“Because of my skin, or because I’m a woman?”

The defensive edge in her voice gave him pause. “Because they don’t know you.”

“Oh.”

He would have laughed at her expression if he didn’t think it might get him disemboweled. Those claws of hers could be nasty when she brought them out.

“C’mon,” he said, inclining his head. “Let’s find that little bird.” He offered her his hand, not really expecting her to take it. She stared at it for a fraction of a second, and then slid her fingers around his. Joy exploded in his stomach. He’d told himself this wouldn’t work. Told himself she was the wrong girl for him, yet every instinct and emotion he had was against him. He couldn’t help himself. He’d help her, spend time with her—kiss her as often as she liked—and then he’d have to let her go. He’d already done that twice. Wasn’t it madness to do it again?

Yes, said his mind. No, said his heart. Both of them could just shut the hell up for the time being.

They walked into a tavern called The Hart and Crown. It was popular with the theater and artistic set, especially the younger members. If Sparrow was in the area, then this was their best chance at finding her.

Outside, the building looked to be at least two centuries old. Its dark wood was made even darker by an earlier rain, and the old gas lamp above the sign—which could stand a fresh coat of paint—flickered in the evening breeze. The windows were made of small diamond-shaped panes of that old sort of glass that you couldn’t really see through. The door was heavy and the hinges squeaked, but inside it was pleasantly warm, lit with a golden glow and filled with low chatter and laughter. It smelled of meat pie and ale. Behind him, Wildcat’s stomach growled. He chuckled as he glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Reckon we might as well grab some food while we’re here.”

Her cheeks actually turned pink. “Sure. That would be good.”

They took a table not far from the fire. Jasper chose that one on purpose because he knew how much she enjoyed the heat. She’d curl up on the tabletop and nap if they’d let her, he thought. She was so much like a house cat, which made sense, given her appearance and abilities. He didn’t know how she’d come to be as she was, and he didn’t care, but he assumed it had to do with organites—the little critters that were responsible for all life, and for the current mutations in the human race that made some of them more than human.

“Can you smell her at all?” he asked. Cat’s intensely keen sense of smell was what made her an excellent tracker, along with her sharp eyesight.

“I’m not sure,” she replied. “There are so many other scents here it’s hard to focus on one. With this amount of people all I can smell is them, and food, and beer. I think I can smell her, but it’s weak. Maybe just wishful thinking.”

“We’ll find her, Cat.” He meant it, and he didn’t make promises he didn’t intend to keep. “I won’t stop until we do.”

Were those tears in her eyes? She’d blinked so quickly they were gone, but he could have sworn he’d seen tears. “Thanks, Jas.”

The barmaid came over, so Jasper ordered ale and two pies for them. “Any chance you’ve seen this girl?” he asked, taking the photograph from Cat’s fingers and handing it to the girl.

The buxom, freckled blonde looked at Sparrow’s face. “Oh, aye. Come in just two nights ago with some of the girls from Pick-a-dilly. Sung a right pretty song, too. She’s not in any trouble, is she?”

“No,” Cat replied before he could. “I’d just like to find her.”

“You’re her sister, ain’t you?” The barmaid grinned, revealing slightly crooked but clean teeth. “You look just like ’er.”

Cat smiled—truly one of the loveliest things Jasper had ever seen, even with her lips closed. “Yes, although I’d be most obliged if you didn’t mention that I was here looking for her.”

The girl nodded. “Right. You’re the elder. Got a baby sister and brother meself, and I understand your meanin’. I won’t say a word. She’ll probably be back with the girls tomorrow night.”

Jasper offered her one of the calling cards he’d had made a little while ago. It was simply his name, his telegraph number and the address for a postal box he kept. On the back he had scrawled the address of King House. “If you see her, talk to her or hear anything about her, maybe you’d be so kind as to let me know.”

Either the girl had a tic or she was fluttering her eyelashes at him. “Of course, ducks. Anything for you.” As she walked away he heard Cat emit a dramatic sigh.

“What?”

She rolled her eyes at him. In this low light her pupils were dilated, but that made them rounder and more normal-looking. “You can’t help yourself, can you? You’d flirt with a tin can if you thought it was female.”

“Flirt?” His voice cracked, the accusation was so incredulous. “How was I flirting?”

Cat made a face. “Maybe you’d be so kind as to let me know.” She’d made her voice so deep she had to tuck her chin to her chest, and every word and gesture was overly exaggerated. She snorted. “Should’ve winked at her while you were at it. Maybe give her a little pat on the bottom.”

“I have no desire to go anywhere near her bottom,” he retorted, not caring how it sounded. “And I wasn’t flirting. I was asking about your sister.” He tossed the photograph back at her. “Next time you ask.”

“You really don’t think she’s pretty?”

“She’s pretty enough.” He shook his head. Cat wasn’t the least bothered by his surliness. She was more surprised—apparently—that he didn’t want every girl he met.

In fact, other than Mei, she was the only girl he’d really wanted. He had flirted a bit with Emily, but only because she was such a sweetheart and it irked Sam when he did it.

“So, we’ll come back tomorrow night,” he said, changing the subject. “We can always check with the circus, as well.”

“Yeah, what is the Pick-a-dilly Circus?”

“They do a lot of acrobatics, animal stunts, freak shows. They’re just like any other circus except they seem to be good to their employees and their animals. They seem to have a lot of people like you and Sparrow working for ’em.”

One of her sharp black eyebrows shot up. “Like me and Sparrow? What do you mean, like me and Sparrow?”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Cat. I mean girls who are different. People who can do things most people can only dream of. I’m one of them, too. You know I’ve never cared if your skin is dark or light or purple.”

She stared at him. For a moment he thought she might take a swing, and he was ready for it. Then she dropped her gaze. “You’re right. You’ve never acted like you were better than me, or treated me like that. I’m sorry.”

“Accepted.”

Their pies arrived at that moment, so nothing more was said. Jasper smiled at the barmaid and thanked her, and he didn’t care what Cat thought of it. He was not a flirt.

They didn’t eat in silence. Neither one of them was much good at staying put out with the other, just as they couldn’t seem to keep their hands and lips off each other. He asked about people they both knew and they shared amusing stories as they enjoyed the savory beef, vegetables and flaky crust.

Afterward, they took a walk by Pick-a-dilly, but it was closed for the evening, so there was no one about. They were on their way back to the velocycle when a strange whirring and clattering arose from a nearby underground exit.

“What’s that?” Cat demanded.

Jasper listened, a sense of dread suddenly overtaking him. “Metal,” he whispered. “And it’s in a hurry.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than half a dozen automatons of various shapes and sizes came streaming up the steps, headed right at them.

“Cat, move,” he said. When she didn’t, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her against the side of the building, putting his own body between her and the machines. The metal gang moved fast, mowing over anything in their path. Most people got out of their way, but a lamppost was twisted and bent as if it was nothing more than taffy, and the steps they had ascended were chipped and smashed from heavy footfalls.

Jasper braced himself for the sound of the velocycle being ripped apart like a cheap toy, but as soon as the automatons got within three feet of it, the cycle’s lights began to flash and a high-pitched hum emanated from it. The machines didn’t stop in their tracks, but they altered their course, swerving at just the last moment to avoid collision with the velocycle. Some of the automatons spoke as they marched. He couldn’t make out anything but one word, Master.

Most people might assume these were household machines that had gotten loose and were trying to find their way home, or some sort of prank, but Jasper had spent enough time with the crew at King House to be wary. And suspicious. He’d mention it to Griffin the first chance he got.

“That,” Cat said, “was one of the strangest things that I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot of strange things.”

“Me, too.” He glanced down the street where the automatons had gone. He could barely see them in the darkness. “Come on, I’ll take you back to the hotel. Where are you staying?”

“The Continental.”

He whistled softly. In the next alley over, a dog barked. “Fancy.”

She shrugged. “When am I going to get to London again? Figured I might as well live it up a bit.”

“Fair enough.” He didn’t want to think about the cost, or what she’d done to get the money. Cat wasn’t cruel and she wasn’t evil, and he had no right at all to judge.

They climbed on the cycle and made the trip back to the West End. He found a place to park just a short distance from the hotel door. “I’ll walk you up.”

Cat made a face. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I do.” His mother would tan his hide if he ever let a girl walk somewhere unaccompanied.

They strode along the walk side by side, watching the brilliantly dressed guests of the hotel leaving for the evening’s entertainment. It was early to the upper classes. They’d likely be out half the night.

At the door of the hotel, he stopped. He wasn’t wearing his hat, so he couldn’t take it off or tip it to her. “I can fetch you tomorrow evening if you like, or is this where my part in the intrigue ends?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I would like you to come with me—if you don’t mind.”

She was so pretty when she was flustered. “You know I don’t.”

“Yeah, I suppose I do.”

Silence.

Jasper cleared his throat. “All right, I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.” He began to walk away.

“Jas?”

He’d only made it one step. Slowly, he turned. “Yeah?”

It took her two tries to meet his gaze. The uncertainty in hers inspired a fluttery feeling in his chest, as if a dozen butterflies were in there flapping their wings in excitement.

“Would you...” She folded her arms over her chest. “Want to come up?”

The distance between them was barely two feet, but he closed it regardless, coming to stand so that they were toe to toe. He placed his finger under her chin and lifted so that she was forced to look at him. “You know what’s going to happen if I come up.”

She nodded, and he removed his finger. This was when she said good-night—or goodbye.

Cat took a step back, then two. Jas felt each movement as though his soul was being pulled after her. She held out her hand. “Coming?”

Oh, hell.

He should say no. He should go. He should run away, or cut his heart out and hide it in a lead box, buried somewhere deep. Or maybe he should just ask someone to give him a good hard kick in the arse.

She dropped her hand, looking as though he’d slapped her. “Right. Good night, then.” She pivoted on her heel and practically ran into the hotel, leaving him standing on the sidewalk like the idiot he was.

When am I going to get to London again?

This might be the last time he saw her.

Panic grabbed him by the heart and squeezed hard. He didn’t think, he just let instinct take over. He ran through the hotel doors, looking around for her like a wild man. Then he saw her stepping into a lift all the way across the foyer. He rarely used his abilities where he might be seen, but tonight he didn’t care. In the space of a blink he was right behind her, following her into the small and otherwise empty lift.

She froze when she saw him. The gates were closed, and the lift jerked into motion.

“Jas—”

He grabbed her and kissed her. They were still kissing when they exited the lift on her floor. They broke contact long enough to get into the room. Jasper hung the do-not-disturb sign.

And then he shut the door.

Chapter Four

Cat woke up late the next morning.

Jasper had left sometime after four, claiming that he didn’t want people to see him leaving her room, because it might start rumors about her.

She had frowned at him and said, “I don’t give a rat’s arse about my reputation.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

He’d kissed her forehead. “I do.”

Something gave within the walls of her chest—like a sharp ping or the snap of a slingshot. While she and Sparrow had been loved by their parents very much, and even by the community, there were those who looked down on a marriage of mixed color. Looked down on the children that were a result of that marriage. From the time she started looking womanly, she’d had to protect herself against men who would use her or take advantage. And she could protect herself. Sparrow, too.

Maybe that was part of the reason she was so angry at her sister—for being duped into thinking that rich man was going to marry her. Sparrow should have known better. Their lives had taught them better. But then, her sister was something of a romantic and kept hoping a man would come along who didn’t care what color she was or wasn’t. Cat had always thought such a man didn’t exist.

Until now.

So, she hadn’t protested his sneaking out, especially not after the kiss he gave her before leaving.

“Meet me downstairs at seven,” he’d murmured before he left.

Seven o’clock that evening wasn’t for many hours yet, so that left her with plenty of time to kill. She decided to spend it exploring the city a bit and doing a little shopping. She wasn’t the shopping type—mostly because dresses were useless in Five Points. But Five Points was being demolished, the people moving on, and she wasn’t going to be that Wildcat anymore. Well, she’d keep the name. It suited her more than Catherine ever had—Mary Catherine, at that. Sparrow’s real name was Mary Elizabeth. Their father had been a “good” Irish lad, and their mother had been happy to become Catholic, having a strong belief in God.

Religion was on a pick-and-choose basis for most of Five Points. Sin all week and repent on Sunday. Cat wasn’t much for church, but she knew where she was going when she died.

So, she went to a fancy shop that sold what was called prêt-à-porter clothing. Ready to wear. She didn’t have to be measured and wait weeks for the darn thing to be done. She found a pretty dress in her size and bought all the bits and pieces that went with it. It was terribly expensive, but it would be worth the look on Jasper’s face when he saw her in it.

She’d made it only two hours without thinking of him. And not even two, because she had started thinking about him—and the night before—shortly after leaving the hotel. But she’d made herself stop. She was not going to moon and pine over him. Not going to pin any hopes on him. She was going to collect Sparrow and go home to New York, where they’d have a nice house and Sparrow could have the life she deserved.

Someday Cat might even forget about Jasper altogether.

She had tea in a little shop not far from where she got the dress, and filled her belly with sandwiches and cakes that were so delicious. Then, she bought some chocolates and continued on to another shop that sold beautiful soaps and creams. She spent money there, as well, and at the cobbler’s. Her last stop was a jeweler’s. Nothing fancy, just some earrings and pins for her hair. And she had all of it sent to back to her hotel, where it would wait for her, rather than having to lug it about town. She walked around and saw the sites—purchased an umbrella—and then made her way back to the hotel around four o’clock.

The gown was hanging up when she entered the room. The rest of her purchases were set out on the bed, each wrapped as they had been at the shop. Such pretty things! She’d never, ever had anything so lovely before. She was almost afraid to wear any of it.

Cat ran a bath and used some of the oils she’d purchased in it. Jasmine. She loved the smell of jasmine. And her soap was a bergamot-and-jasmine blend that was almost delicious enough to eat. She scrubbed and soaked, washed her hair, then read a book while she ate chocolates right from the box. When the water went from warm to cool, she climbed out and toweled off. Then, wrapped up in two of the thick towels, she started to get ready for the evening.

She dried her hair with the special device attached to the bathroom wall. It drew warm air up from the boilers below the hotel. She used a low setting because her hair would end up looking like a tumbleweed if she didn’t. Once it was dry, she used a blend of oils on it, made from a recipe of her mother’s. Then she began dressing.

There was nothing quite so nice as new underclothes, and these ones were silk trimmed with fine, delicate Brussels lace. Blush-colored stockings were held up by matching suspenders, and her new corset, which was a pale rose satin, was one of the newer designs by a woman in France. It laced up the front and had reticulated boning that allowed much more freedom of movement for the lady wearing it. Supposedly she’d created the design for lady spies. It was certainly ingenious, and comfortable.

She sang to herself as she dressed. What a difference in her mood from yesterday! It wasn’t all because of Jasper—she wasn’t going to give him that much credit—but she had to admit he was a big part of it. The other half was knowing that her sister was all right, or at least that she had been a few days ago. If she had friends, that was good. If she’d literally run away to join the circus, well, that was better than all the things Cat had thought about and fretted over. And after tonight, it would all be behind them.

Her hair often had a mind of its own, so she merely pinned some of the oiled and smoothed curls up and let the rest fall down her back. Her hair was probably her one true vanity. She rubbed some oil into her shoulders and arms, as well. Then she pulled on the deep rose gown, which cleverly buttoned up the front but had a panel that concealed the buttons.

When she was done it was five minutes to seven. She stepped into her new pumps, grabbed her wrap and started cautiously for the door. She didn’t often wear heels, so she took it slow at first. But the shoes proved sturdy, and she quickly regained her confidence in being able to put one foot in front of the other.

People stared at her as she got off the lift. Some whispered. Some said things out loud, but none of it was mean. Oh, maybe someone thought ill of her, but she didn’t hear it, and that was all that mattered.

An older gentleman bowed as she walked past. “Enchanting,” he said to her. Cat smiled and thanked him. Then, she looked up, and her smile froze.

Good lord.

In the middle of the foyer stood the singularly most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. His wavy dark blond hair was brushed back from his face in neat waves. His jaw was smoothly shaved. He wore black evening clothes that had been tailored to him so that the jacket showed off his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His shirt was white, his waistcoat and cravat were both ivory. And in his lapel was a single rose almost the exact same shade as her dress.

He looked at her as though someone had hit him with a brick—which she recognized as a good thing. Still smiling, she walked up to him.

“How did you know?” she asked, touching the tip of her finger to the rose he wore.

He didn’t even look. His gaze didn’t leave hers. “It’s your favorite color. Tarnation, Cat. You’re gorgeous.”

She blushed. He was the only one to ever make her do that. “Thanks. So are you.”

Jasper shook his head, looking peevish. “No, you are really... I mean, you’re always beautiful, but you... You’re an angel.”

Cat normally would have laughed at such praise and called him a liar, but for that one night she was going to believe every nice thing he said to her. She wanted to look back on this moment years from now and smile at the memory.

When he offered his arm, she took it, and squirmed a little under the weight of his stare. Admiration shone in his moss-colored eyes, and he obviously didn’t care if she, or anyone else, saw it.

Outside, a lacquered carriage sat at the curb, complete with liveried driver and twin automaton horses. Both of these horses were silver in color and beautifully embossed with winding ivy vines. The vines were also in the crest on the door. The driver hopped down and opened the door.

“Get in,” Jasper suggested when she didn’t move.

She knew her eyes had to be the size of saucers, and she wasn’t wearing her spectacles. “Really?”

He grinned. “Do you like it? I thought about a steam carriage that I could drive myself, but this seemed more pretentious.”

She laughed. “It’s gorgeous. It’s really ours?”

“I borrowed it from Griffin. It’s ours for the night. Now in you get.”

He didn’t have to say it again. Cat allowed the driver to hand her into the vehicle, and Jasper followed on her heels. The driver shut the door, and in a few minutes they were on their way to Covent Garden.

Jasper waited until the carriage was in motion before kissing her senseless.

“I’ve been waiting all day to do that,” he said.

Oh, they were digging a deep hole and Cat didn’t care. “Me, too.”

His bright gaze roamed over her. “Did you wear this just for me?”

She nodded. “Did you?”

“You know full well I did. I feel like that monkey we saw performing on the street, remember that? That fella had him all trussed up in a suit.”

Of course she did. It had been right after they’d met and started doing whatever it was they were doing. “You’re much cuter than that monkey.”

“That was a pretty dang cute monkey.”

She grinned. “So are you.”

He kissed her again. In fact, he kissed her all the way to Covent Garden, but he was mindful enough not to muss up her hair, which she found oddly sweet. She used to mock people who treated her as feminine or delicate, because there was nothing delicate about her, but now she could see why some women went out of their way to get attention. It was nice to be treated like something special.

“We’re here,” Jasper said as the carriage came to a halt. Cat could see the door to Pick-a-dilly Circus through the window. A small crowd of people were on their way inside.

Suddenly, she didn’t want to go in. Didn’t want to leave the carriage. Part of it was she wanted to stay locked up with him, but another part was worried people would say things about the two of them being together. Then Jasper opened the door and stepped out. He turned and offered her his hand. She couldn’t just sit there like an idiot.

“Let’s go find that sister of yours.”

She put her gloved hand in his and stepped out of the carriage. A tendril of dread wrapped around her heart. Part of her hoped Sparrow wasn’t there just so they’d have to come back, because if her sister was there, then Cat’s adventure in London would be over, and she’d be on her way back to New York, sister in tow.

And she’d probably never see Jasper Renn again.

Chapter Five

His Aether pistol dug into his hip.

Jasper was hard-pressed to care, however. The reason the weapon dug into him was because Cat was pressed up against him, watching the performances with wide eyes and a smile on her lips, showing just the slightest hint of fang. She was a strange girl, a peculiar creature, and he adored every unusual inch of her. No one could make him as happy or drive him as mad as she could. For the first time since returning to London, he felt as though the pieces of his life finally fit together like a completed jigsaw puzzle.

Maybe he’d go to hell for it, but he hoped they didn’t find Sparrow at the circus. The longer Cat stayed in London the harder it would be to say goodbye, but he didn’t want to say goodbye just yet, either. More time—that was all he wanted.

But fate was cruel, and just when he thought he might get his wish, the second-to-last act of the night began. It was Sparrow. He knew it even from a distance, because she looked very much like Cat, even in a brightly decorated mask that covered the upper half of her face. Her costume was snug—somewhat revealing but not outrageously so.

She climbed up the tall ladder on the right side of the stage, while a young man climbed the one on the left. The platforms they stepped onto were so high that a fall would surely kill them. Jasper realized this just as the fellow wrapped his hands around a trapeze swing and jumped.

A few gasps rose up, but that wasn’t the exciting part. The man swung over the stage, building momentum, and then Sparrow grabbed a swing on her side and swung out, as well.

Cat’s fingernails—which were also sharp claws—dug into his leg. He winced and put his hand over hers. Immediately she relaxed, and the pain in his thigh eased. At least she hadn’t ripped through the fabric of his trousers.

Sparrow swung and swung and then...she let go. She spiraled and twisted through the air like a leaf on the wind, and then, just when it seemed she might plummet to her death, she reached out her arms, as did her companion, and their hands locked together.

The audience gasped loudly. Cat actually made a little noise in her throat that sounded like a meow. God, she was strange.

God, he loved her.

That realization was like receiving the butt of a pistol to the head, no denying that. He loved her? Loved Cat? No, that was impossible. It was ridiculous. It was foolhardy. It was...

It was true. And it had been true since the first time he met her. That empty feeling he’d carried around with him when he came to London wasn’t about losing Mei or escaping Dalton, or leaving his family and life behind. It had been about losing the one person who understood and accepted him just as he was. And it was why he hadn’t felt right since returning from the States this last time, because the only time he felt right was with her. He should have stayed in New York with her and not come back to London, but Dalton would come for him, and he couldn’t let Cat be another casualty of the outlaw’s hate, like Mei had been.

What was he going to do? He tried desperately to come up with an answer, but then Cat’s hand was on his and she squeezed hard.

“Oh, lord,” she whispered.

Jasper turned his attention to the ring. Sparrow was by herself, spinning and twirling through the air between two swings that were anchored in place. She threw herself between them with wild abandon, swooping and diving, somehow seeming to defy gravity and death itself with her graceful and awesome daring.

Of course he should have known that any girl named Sparrow could probably fly—or give the illusion of it. There was no denying she was more than human, though it could be passed off as extraordinary talent and not an evolutionary mutation. No one in this audience cared why she could do these things—they just appreciated and were in awe of it. They’d talk about it and say it had to be a trick, maybe. Or they’d say that she was just incredible, but no one was likely to call her a freak, not like they would if she was anywhere but inside this building.

Maybe Pick-a-dilly was a little safe haven for the evolved people of the world.

Sparrow and her partner did a couple more insane stunts, and then the girl did one final bit on her own. She wound herself around the swing as it sailed through the air, drawing gasp after gasp from those watching. Then she landed back on her platform. Just when it seemed as though the act was all done, she backed up, stepping as far back on the opposite end of the platform as she could. Then she ran toward the edge, and when she got there she launched herself into the open air high above the ring.

Cat’s breath caught in her throat—Jasper heard it.

The girl glided through the air—flew. That was the only way to describe it. She soared like a bird buoyed by the wind.

There were several large fans beneath her. He had thought they kept the performers cool and dry so they didn’t sweat and slip, but maybe they were also there to give her lift? It didn’t matter, and it didn’t make what she did any less dangerous. He held his own breath until she hit the opposite platform and somersaulted across it.

The audience went wild. Cat jumped to her feet and clapped for her sister. She hooted and cheered, as well. Sparrow stood on the platform and beamed as though she was made of pure light. Once, maybe twice in his life had Jasper ever seen joy like that.

“She’s amazing,” Cat enthused. “Did you see her, Jas? Wasn’t she amazing?”

He put his arm around her waist and gave her a little squeeze. “She sure was. Must run in the family.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but didn’t argue. He grinned.

They sat again for the final act, which consisted of a young girl dancing with fire. It was a wonder she didn’t go up like a roman candle.

Afterward, they made their way backstage along with a large group from the audience. The area was packed.

“How are we going to get in?” Cat asked.

“Easy,” he replied, and stopped an older woman he recognized as someone in charge.

“Oi,” she said sharply. “What do you want, cowboy?”

So she knew who he was. Interesting. He gestured at Cat. “We’d like to see Sparrow.”

The woman wasn’t stupid. She recognized Cat as soon as she looked. “I’ll be jiggered. You’d be Cat! We’ve ’eard so much about you, darlin’! So very much. Right proud is our girl of her sister. You two follow me.”

Jasper grinned triumphantly and leaned down to whisper in Cat’s ear as they followed the woman. “I think she was flirting with me.”

He got an elbow in the ribs for his teasing.

The woman led them to a room at the end of a wide hall. There were a bunch of younger girls gathered out front.

“What are you lot doin’ out ’ere?” the woman demanded.

One of the girls, who he recognized as a performer from earlier in the show, looked nervous. In fact, they all did. They traded helpless glances with one another.

“We were told not to say anything,” one piped up. Jasper noticed that she and the girl beside her were actually twins, and that they were joined together at the hip—literally. They were the Siamese twins who had performed earlier, as well. “But I don’t care. Sparrow’s in there.”

Beside him Cat stiffened.

“With ’oo?” the woman demanded.

The girls traded more looks. And the same one confessed again, “Lord Blackhurst. He told us to wait out here and he’d give us all twenty pounds. He said he just wanted to talk to her.”

Oh, no.

Cat turned to him. “Jas?” She wasn’t stupid. She knew what was going on. Blackhurst. Damnation. That man was bad news.

Jasper tried the knob. The door was locked. “Do you have a key?” he asked.

The woman nodded. “In my office. I’ll go get it.”

That wasn’t time they had to waste. He knocked on the door. A man’s voice said, “Go away!”

Cat leaned in. “Sparrow?”

“Cat!” came the answering cry—and it was a cry.

Jasper didn’t think, he simply acted. He drew back his foot and kicked it into the door as fast as he could.

The door exploded inward as pain drove up his leg. Cat immediately ran in. Wincing, Jasper looked in as the girls gathered in front of him.

Sparrow stood by a desk, her costume torn, watching her sister stalk her would-be attacker with eyes that were wide and dark in her pale cheeks.

Lord Blackhurst was said to be handsome, but then so was Satan. He smirked at Cat, as though amused by her. He wouldn’t be amused when she laid open his face.

“Sisters,” Blackhurst said rather mockingly. “Had I known there were two of you I would have waited.”

Cat hissed at him. The man arched a brow. Then he looked down and saw her claws—which had extended from her fingers.

“Cat!” Sparrow cried again.

Cat turned her head to look at her sister. Jasper saw the earl draw back his fist.... He leaped into action. He didn’t care who saw him move. He thought only of Cat. Blackhurst wouldn’t hesitate to hit her, or any other woman. And he’d hit her hard. She was a scrapper, his girl, but Blackhurst also had a walking stick with him, which Jasper recognized as the kind that concealed a sword. He wouldn’t think twice about injuring her, or perhaps killing her. And he wouldn’t go to jail, because he was a peer of the realm and he’d say she attacked him.

Everything around him slowed as he moved—as though everyone became a statue. One second he was at the door and before the next one was up, he had inserted himself between Cat and Blackhurst, grabbed the man’s wrist with one hand and pulled his pistol with the other. He shoved the muzzle of the weapon under Blackhurst’s jaw.

The man blinked in confusion as time caught up with Jasper.

“Don’t.” Jasper shoved a little harder on the pistol. “Move and I’ll blow your damn head off.”

“You’d hang,” the earl sneered.

Jasper tilted his head. “You’d still be dead.”

A strong, slender hand curved around his forearm. “Jas, don’t.”

He didn’t look at her. “He’d deserve it, Cat.”

“He surely would, but you wouldn’t deserve to hang for doing the world a favor.”

“Is Sparrow all right?”

“She is.”

And he knew that it had to be truth, because if it wasn’t she would have already torn the bastard to shreds. Still, he held the pistol where it was for a few seconds longer. Sweat trickled down the older man’s brow and fear shone in his dark eyes. That was going to be all the satisfaction Jasper would get from the altercation. He wasn’t going to let him go because it was the right thing, or even because he might hang for it. He was going to let the man go because Cat asked it of him.

He lowered the gun. “Time for you to leave,” he informed the earl through clenched teeth.

Blackhurst glared at him, all traces of fear gone. “You’ll pay for this.”

Jasper smiled at him. “Someday, when there are less witnesses, so will you.” Cat grinned, as well, revealing her fangs. They both stepped back to let the man leave.

“Oi,” said the woman who had brought them there. “From now on, if that bastard shows ’is face round ’ere again, you don’t let him alone with anyone. Understood?”

The girls, who were all clustered around Sparrow, nodded.

The woman gave a curt nod. “Good.” Then she turned to Jasper. “You owe me a door, mister.”

He gave her his card. “Send me a bill.”

“Don’t fink I won’t,” she warned and tucked the card into her corset. Then she walked out, leaving them alone with a bunch of girls as she yelled for everyone clustered around the door to stop ogling and get back to work.

Jasper put his arm around Cat’s shoulders. “Are you all right?”

She frowned at him. “Me? Yeah, I’m good. If he had hurt her I wouldn’t be fine at all.”

And neither would Blackhurst. He’d seen firsthand what Cat’s claws could do to someone who deserved to feel them. “You want me to take you and the girls home?”

Cat nodded. “Thanks.”

She was pulling away from him already—he could feel it. She’d done what she set out to do and she wouldn’t be staying in London any longer than she had to. She’d probably have them on the first dirigible out tomorrow if she could book passage.

It hurt to breathe. Hurt to think. This is what a broken heart feels like.

Cat gathered up the girls once they all got their coats, and led them outside. They stuffed everyone into the carriage and then she and Jasper climbed up to sit on the bench with the driver. Cat gave the driver the address of the boardinghouse where the girls lived.

It was a cool night, so Jasper took off his tailcoat and put it around Cat’s shoulders. They didn’t speak, but they held hands for the short drive. When they stopped in front of a respectable-looking redbrick house, he turned to her.

“Are you staying here with Sparrow?”

She nodded. “I’ll get her packed up and then go back to the hotel tomorrow. We’ll probably fly out tomorrow night or the next day.”

She seemed to be looking for something in his face, but he didn’t know what. He nodded. “So, this is goodbye, then.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

He lowered his head and kissed her forehead. “Goodbye, Cat.”

She removed his coat and handed it to him. “Goodbye, Jasper.”

He watched her hop down from the carriage and walk with the girls up to the door of the house, the skirts of her pretty gown swaying with every step. One of the girls opened the door and they all filed in. Only Sparrow stopped at the threshold and turned to wave at him. Jasper waved back. Her sister, however, didn’t even look. She just closed the door, and was gone.

Chapter Six

“I’m not leaving.”

Cat wasn’t surprised to hear these words tumble out of her sister’s mouth. What did surprise her was her own disinterest. Of course she cared what happened to Sparrow—she’d chased the girl across the Atlantic to make certain she wasn’t being harmed in some way, or taken advantage of—but she wasn’t worried about it.

“I like it here, Cat. I have friends—real friends, who don’t think I’m odd because I can make myself stay in the air for longer than most. They like me. I like them. I like Mrs. Rhodes. She’s like a mother to us. I like Mr. Anders, who owns the circus. It’s like a family—sort of like Five Points, but without all the fighting and blood.”

If ever she needed a reason not to force her sister back to New York, that was it. Five Points might be on its way out, but the people would go elsewhere in the surrounding area. There would always be poor people, gangs and hate. The same could be said for any city, but London was a fresh start for Sparrow, and it was obviously a place where she felt wanted and safe, despite having been attacked by Lord Blackhurst.

“This is really where you want to be?”

The girl nodded. “I never planned to stay with Lord Canton. I just wanted to see London, you know?”

No, she really didn’t. She didn’t understand being romantic with someone you didn’t love, but then, she’d had the advantage of seeing her parents’ relationship. Sparrow had been younger still when their father died, and she’d grown up fast. When she talked about her friends at the circus—which she had been doing for the past hour—her face lit up and her eyes brightened. She looked like a fifteen-year-old girl, not an old woman in a young body.

“If you’re certain this is what you want, then all right.”

Her sister grabbed her hands. They were sitting on Sparrow’s neat little bed at Mrs. Rhodes’s boardinghouse. The room was prettily done in creams and blues, perfect for a young lady. “Really? You mean it?”

Cat cocked her head to one side. “Do I ever say anything I don’t mean?”

The girl snorted. “You said goodbye to Jasper Renn. Seriously, Cat, I think there’s something wrong with you.”

“Excuse me? You did not just say that to me.”

Sparrow obviously wasn’t worried about her sister’s temper. She laughed. “He’s gorgeous! And, as the girls say, he’s absolutely mad for you. You’re mad for him. It’s simple.”

“It’s not simple, Row.” God, she wished it was. “He’s a flirt and a charmer. He’d get bored with me after a while.”

“Yeah, because that’s why he keeps coming back to you, because he has no one else to flirt with or bring a little excitement into his life.” She made a rude noise. “Lie to him if you have to, or yourself if you must, but don’t lie to me. It makes us both fools.”

Cat’s jaw slackened. When the hell had her baby sister gotten so smart? “Fine, I like him, but I’m scared that once he gets to know me he’ll leave, just like everyone else.”

“Everyone else?”

“Da left.”

“Da died. There’s a difference.”

“Ma’s been partially gone for years.” Ever since her father’s death, Cat’s mother had been withdrawn and distant. “Rory Sullivan left me to become a fisherman in Canada. Jasper’s already left me twice. You left me.”

“You’re insane. Do you hear yourself? Insane. Good lord, pull your boots up, stop whining and go get your claws into that fella before someone smarter does.”

“I’m still old enough and big enough to beat you.”

Sparrow dismissed the threat with a wave of her hand. “You know I’m right. You’re just a coward, and yellow doesn’t suit you.”

Cat’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Thanks, sis. Really. Thanks so much. I feel so much better now. I’ll go back to New York by myself and die a cowardly old woman alone in my bed.”

“I won’t be surprised to see it happen.”

“All right, that’s enough.” Cat’s temper was good and stoked now. “You’ve no right to call me a coward, a girl who couldn’t even tell me what you were planning to do.”

“Because you’d try to stop me.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I might have helped you? Hell, that maybe I would have taken you to London if I’d known you wanted to go.”

“You can’t afford to do that.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? I can afford it. I have more money than you’ll ever know. It’s money for us. For our future. I did some things I’m not proud of to get that money.”

“So, what? Now you go back to New York, where everyone knows who you are, and try to live a fancy life? No one will want to socialize with a Five Points gang leader, Cat. And it will get out. The coppers will still treat you like dirt. Your old connections will still expect favors, and you’ll never get out from under that stink. Or, you could start a new life here. Think about it. No one in London knows Wildcat McGuire. You could just be Cat again. You could be whoever you want.”

The girl should be a politician. “You really believe that?”

Her sister nodded. “I do. You won’t know until you try. What’s the worst thing that could happen if you stay?”

“I could be miserable.”

“Why?”

She looked away. “I don’t like this game.”

“Why would you be miserable, Cat?”

“Because Jasper and I might not work out.”

“At least you would know. At least you would have tried.”

This was ridiculous. “We shouldn’t even be wasting time talking about this.”

“You’re right, because obviously you don’t want to hear the truth. You should have seen the look on his face when you walked away from him tonight.”

“Really?”

Sparrow rolled her eyes—an annoying family trait. “Please go see him. I’d love to have you in London, too, and I just want to see you happy. You’ll never get that if you’re always wondering what might have been.”

“I’m not sure I like that you’re giving me all this sage advice.”

“I learned from the best.”

And that was the heartbreaker, right there. Eyes burning, tears threatening to spill over, Cat wrapped her arms around her sister and squeezed her hard. “I love you, Row.”

“I love you, too.” She sounded as if she might be a little overcome, as well.

Cat pulled back. “All right, wish me luck.”

Her sister’s entire face lit up. “Are you going to see him?”

“You told me to, didn’t you?” She smoothed some of the wrinkles out of her gown as she stood. “And I hear you had an excellent teacher.”

The two of them just smiled at each other. There was really nothing else that needed to be said. Cat hugged her sister and promised to come see her the following day regardless of what happened with Jasper. Then she gathered up her wrap and left the boardinghouse. Fortunately it was a somewhat busy neighborhood, so it wasn’t difficult to hail a hackney. She had a small stash of money pinned to the underside of her skirts for exactly this sort of situation.

“Where to, miss?” the driver asked, peering down at her from under the brim of his hat.

“Mayfair,” she replied, giving him the directions. “And please hurry.”

* * *

They said if you made a wish on a falling star then the wish would come true. Lying on his back on a blanket in the center of the garden maze, Jasper saw a falling star and wished that he could find someone who thought he was worth sticking around for.

Then he realized what a pathetic request that was, and he wished for a sandwich, because he was hungry and tired of feeling sorry for himself.

There was only one thing for him to do—go to Cat and tell her that he’d like her to stick around for a while. She’d understand that going back to the States wouldn’t be possible for him. Along with the possibility of Dalton’s revenge, there was the fact that if she was involved in some criminal behavior, it would be foolishly easy for him to fall back into those old ways. He didn’t want that to happen.

But he just might risk it for her.

He rubbed his hands over his face. He was tired in addition to being hungry. He should go inside and go to bed and try not to dream about Cat. She’d be leaving in probably the next twelve hours or so.

Oh, this was more useless than teats on a bull. With a frustrated sigh, he sat up—and realized he wasn’t alone.

“Hey,” she said, skirts rustling as she walked.

“Hey.” Was this a dream? He gave his forearm a little pinch just to be certain. No, sir. Not a dream.

She came forward until she could simply drop onto the blanket beside him. She was still wearing her gown, still looking gorgeous.

“Mind if I join you?”

He shrugged. “Guess not.”

Gracefully, she lowered herself to the blanket, arranging her skirts in the process. “So, I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?”

“Houses.”

Out of all the things he might have imagined her saying, that was not one of them. “Why?”

“Well, since I’m going to be staying in London for a while, I thought it might be a good idea to find a house or a flat rather than stay in a hotel.”

Any pretense of trying to play cool and remote evaporated like a puff of smoke. He sat up—they were only inches apart. “If this is a joke, it’s a mean one.”

“No joke.” She smiled faintly. “Sparrow wants to stay and I think I will, too.”

“Sparrow. Right.” Not for him, then. Had he really expected her to give up her life for him?

“It’s not like there’s anything left for me in New York. I left the gang, and Five Points is going to be razed. Sparrow pointed out that London might be a good place to start fresh.”

“Smart girl.”

“Family trait,” she replied with a grin. “How would you feel if I stayed?”

He shrugged. “Fine.”

She cupped his face, holding his head still so he had to look at her, just as he had done to her. “Jasper Renn, I’m telling you that I think I might stay in this city for a reason—because I want to know if you’d like to be with me.”

“I always like being with you.”

“No.” She gently knocked her forehead against his. “With me—and only me. I’m askin’ you to be my fella. What do you say?”

What did he say? God, he wanted to shout yes from the very rooftop. “Are you sure?”

She kissed him. “I’ve never been more sure. Finding Sparrow was only part of the reason I came to London. I can admit it now. I came for you, because I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you.”

Since she was being honest, he figured he could do the same. “I can’t stop thinking about you, either.”

Her feline gaze bore into him, as though she could peer into his very soul. “I love you.”

Jasper went completely still, except for the feverish pounding of his heart. “You do?”

God, she looked so nervous and brave. “I do. And I would like to be with you.”

He brought his hands up to cup her face, as well. “I love you, and I—” The rest of his speech was cut off when she covered his lips with her own. He came up on his knees, as well, so it was easier to hold her. His fingers curved against the back of her skull as her hand slid between them and up his torso to settle over his heart. He dropped his right hand to her chest, and felt the beat of hers against his palm. Their hearts beat in unison.

Looked as though he didn’t need to say anything else, after all.

Epilogue

“Are you certain you wouldn’t rather be out looking for Emily?” Jealous as she might sometimes be of the girl Jasper thought of so highly, Cat also knew that Jasper was loyal to a fault and she didn’t want to keep him from his friends.

“I was out looking earlier today, following up a lead I had in Brighton. It was nothing.”

She turned her head to look at him. They were lying on her bed at the Continental, where she was going to stay for another day or two until she heard back about a flat she’d looked at. “You’ve been to Brighton and back? It’s only noon.”

Jasper grinned. “There are some things I can do very quickly.”

She smiled coyly. “Lucky for me you do other things very slowly.”

“Like what?” he asked, inching closer.

“Like explaining to me why you’re here and not with Sam or Griffin.”

“Because you’re prettier than they are. Because I told Sam a few days ago that I was helping you with an issue. I even told him about the automatons we saw, in case it tied into whatever happened to Em. I don’t think he’s impressed with me, but I wanted to be with you and look for Emily. I couldn’t do both. It’s not the most honorable of reasons, but it’s all I’ve got.”

She was more important to him than his friends. The realization made her dizzy. It also made her uncomfortable a little. “You can’t toss them over for me, boyo.”

“I’m not tossing them over. I’m just being selfish for a bit.” It was sweet, but she didn’t feel right about it, and she could tell he didn’t, either. But he didn’t have to choose between them and her. Her whole life had been about being either black or white, Irish or African. Seemed as though someone had always been wanting her to pick one, when she just wanted to be herself.

“I think should go over there and do what you can do to help.”

“You sure?”

“I’ll be here when you’re done.”

His eyes sparkled as he looked at her. “You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

“And don’t you forget it.” She kissed him. She didn’t care what people thought of their relationship, or if they whispered about them. If people didn’t like the way she looked, they could stop staring.

He inched closer until their legs touched. “You know, I’m pretty amazing, too. I reckon we could do plenty of amazing things together.”

“No flirting,” she commanded, but her grin voided any real threat. “I’m immune to your charms.”

He snorted. “You are not.”

She opened her mouth to continue the argument, because it was fun to argue something so ridiculous, but was cut off by a strange dinging. “What’s that?”

“My portable telegraph.” He pulled a small, relatively flat device from his coat and used the small control panel to read and respond to a message. “It’s from Griffin. They’ve found out where Emily is. Looks like Sam’s in trouble, too. He wants me to come help if I can.”

“Then you should go.” She gave him a soft shove. “I’ll be fine.”

His gaze locked with hers. “Come with me.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Now? Your friends won’t want me around. I’m a stranger.”

“They know you well enough, and we need all the help we can get. With Em and Sam both gone, we’re down two. With you on board, the odds are more in our favor. What do you say, darlin’—are you ready for another adventure? Rescue the damsel and her knight, plus slay the dragon, or dragons, as the case may be? We can do it together.”

Cat wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. “I say yes.”

And yes to every adventure to come.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
THE GIRL WITH THE IRON TOUCH
by Kady Cross.

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Chapter 1

London, Autumn 1897

A giant tentacle slapped the front of the submersible, driving the small craft backward in the water. A crack no wider than a hair split across the view screen as suckers the size of dinner plates pulled free.

“Mary and Joseph,” Emily O’Brien muttered as murky water from the Thames began to seep in through that crack. A sound like breaking ice followed as pressure from the outside pushed against the glass, demanding to get inside like a rowdy drunkard at a tavern door.

“Goin’ up!” she yelled. “The control room’s been breached!” She shoved hard on the guiding lever, forcing the vehicle to rise quickly.

The crack grew.

Emily held her breath.

The glass popped—another crack shot downward.

She should have covered the glass with a protective metal grid.

Water spilled onto the control panel. Sparks flew. Emily pulled her goggles down over her eyes and shoved against the lever, as though she could make the craft move faster with sheer force of will.

Well, actually she could probably do just that.

Water ran onto her boots. The glass was a spiderweb of cracks. Any second the entire thing would burst inward, cutting her to ribbons before she drowned.

Her jaw set stubbornly. Fear was for the weak. “This is not my day to die!” She tore off her gloves and set her bare hands against the sub’s control panel. She took a deep breath, ignored the tiny trickles of icy water that ran beneath her palms and commanded the craft to rise. The mechanized workings of the craft recognized the order and jumped to do her bidding.

The sub shot upward so quickly she lost her footing, landing hard on the wet floor. Daylight flooded the cabin as the glass shattered. Daylight, not water.

“Emily!” cried a voice in her ear. “Em!”

“I’m all right,” she replied. Later she’d smile over the worry in Sam’s voice. With the amount of time she’d spent worrying over him, it was nice to have the tables turned.

Her enjoyment was brief. She rose up on her hands and knees only to slip on the wet metal beneath her boots. Pain exploded in her chest as she hit the metal floor. A tentacle as thick as her waist whipped the air where her head had been not two seconds earlier as she rolled to her back. Suckers attached to the ceiling and pulled. The submersible’s nose pitched down, cold, pungent water spilling inside the jagged hole left by the shattered glass.

Emily grabbed hold of the foot of the ladder to keep from tumbling through that hole. Her chest hurt from the fall, and from her heart pounding against her ribs. Were they broken or just bruised? Would one pierce her lung?

It wouldn’t matter if the beastie pulling her under the water succeeded in killing and probably devouring her. She’d take her chances on a punctured lung.

Cold, dirty water sloshed over the tops of her boots and soaked through her woolen trousers as she pulled herself to her knees. Clinging to the ladder, she rose to her feet and began to climb. Her sodden clothes and sloshing boots worked against her, keeping her movements slow and awkward.

She turned the wheel on the ceiling hatch, arms straining as she pushed against it. The Thames rushed into the craft over the jagged opening in the front of the craft. She had but seconds before it was completely pulled under. A tentacle brushed her leg. She shuddered, heart racing. Emily put all of her strength into opening the hatch, ignoring the burning in her chest and arms.

The lock disengaged with a thunk. She pushed the hatch open and scampered up the ladder as the tentacle reached for her once more. The rubbery flesh looped around her boot, but she yanked her leg up before it closed around her leg like a vice. She climbed onto the top of the submersible and slammed the hatch on the slick, gray appendage, amputating the tip. It slid away, leaving a bloody trail.

A roar escaped from the water. Emily looked up in time to see the Kraken rise out of the river. And though it had been a long time since she’d been to church, or even believed in God, she crossed herself.

“Emily!”

It was Sam. He stood on the dock, the helmet off his underwater suit, a look of absolute terror on his rugged face. It was that look that decided her fate. She was not going to let him see her die. He might be physically the strongest person in the world, but inside he was as soft as a puppy.

And she loved him for it.

So Emily ran. The submersible shook as another tentacle hit—the Kraken was coming for her. She almost slipped but kept moving. Her fingers fumbled at her belt, pulled the gun strapped there free of its holster. She aimed it at a point just above Sam’s head—the building behind him—and pulled the trigger.

A thin rope with a claw attachment on the end shot from the gun and latched on to the wooden building. Emily wrapped both hands around the pistol and pulled the trigger again. She was yanked off her feet just as a massive tentacle came smashing down on the top of the submersible, driving it completely underwater. She sailed through the air like she’d been shot from a cannon—right into Sam’s arms.

He reached up and grabbed the taut line and pulled, yanking the claw free from the building so it could retract without pulling Emily any farther. Behind her, the monstrous sea beast thrashed in the Thames, sending waves as big as fishing boats crashing onto the dock.

Her shoulders hurt from being jerked like a fish on a hook. Sam’s chest was warm and broad. I could stay here all day, Emily thought. She glanced up into intense eyes almost as dark as his hair. “Thanks, lad.”

He didn’t speak. He just held her. Her heart thumped. Was he going to kiss her? Because she would like that, very much, even if she did have the faint whiff of chamber pot about her from the river.

A sound like the igniting of a gas lamp—a hiss and pop—broke through the air, destroying the moment. What the devil…?

Both Emily and Sam turned to see Griffin, the Duke of Greythorne, in wet shirt and trousers, kneeling on the deck as though he’d been struck by more than just a foul-smelling wave.

“Bloody hell,” Sam whispered.

Emily followed his gaze. Her jaw dropped. Bloody hell, indeed.

The Kraken hovered just above the surface of the Thames, trapped in a watery bubble of bluish light. It waved its tentacles but remained held. The thing was as big as several carriages stacked together, and yet it reminded her of the glass globes her mother used to admire—the ones that were filled with water and particles of white substance that looked like snow when shook. Only this globe held the largest sea creature she had ever seen, and made it seem as ineffectual as a delicate crystal novelty.

Finley Jayne, Emily’s good friend and fellow member of Griffin’s little group, ran forward to help him, yanking off the helmet of her underwater suit. Finley was a pretty girl—honey-colored hair with a streak of black in the front, and amber eyes. It was no secret she and Griffin had feelings for each other, though they’d continued dancing around them since returning from America a few months ago.

“I’m worried about him,” Sam said as he released Emily.

She tried to hide her disappointment. “Griffin? Me, too. He looks so tired.”

Together they approached the other couple. Jasper joined them. He was a blond, green-eyed American with more charm than sense and the ability to move faster than humanly possible. Like the rest of them, he wore a diving suit. He, Sam and Finley had tried to secure cables from Emily’s craft to the Kraken, so they could capture it, but the monster had proved too wily. Griffin had remained on the dock to use his own abilities to assist.

He’d ended up capturing the bloody thing all by himself. His power was increasing—a fact that was as frightening as it was awesome.

Finley helped Griffin to his feet. His reddish hair was a damp mess and his gray-blue eyes were heavy. “Aetheric containment field,” he told them. “It will hold it until the Royal Society gets here.”

His friends exchanged glances. To have conjured such a huge amount of energy from the Aether and directed it so precisely was a remarkable feat. Griffin had been honing his skills like mad as of late, though he didn’t care to explain why. That had everyone worried, because previously Griffin had said he was reluctant to give too much of himself to the Aether for fear it would consume him.

Emily worried it had begun to do just that.

“Tarnation,” Jasper murmured, his attention turning to the thing in the Aether bubble. “A real live Kraken. I always thought the stories were just make believe.”

So had Emily, though there’d been sailors about Ireland who’d told stories of seeing the giant octopuses on their travels. Kraken were monstrous creatures that could destroy a ship and devour its crew in as little as thirty minutes. Those who had seen one up close didn’t often live to tell about it, which explained why they were believed to be more myth than fact.

The Kraken they’d caught was a small one if the accounts were to be taken as truth. It was said that a mature Kraken could make a frigate look like a toy. Those large ones could overpower and snap the large ship like dry tinder.

If this was a young one, she hoped its mama didn’t come looking for it. It thrashed against its prison like a child in the middle of a tantrum, but Griffin’s power held fast. He refused to allow Finley to support him, and wavered slightly as he stood on the dock, pale-faced.

Emily glanced back at the Kraken and at the energy that encased it. She shivered, and not just because of her damp clothes. Griffin’s power scared her at times; there seemed to be no rules or boundaries to it. The Aether was not only the spirit realm, but was made up of pure life-energy. Everything, living and dead, was part of it, fed it.

And as much as it fed Griffin, it also fed off him.

“You all right, Miss Emmy?” Jasper asked. While their plan had been for the underwater team to secure the Kraken, and keep it from attacking the dock, Emily had been charged with the task of trying to drive the thing to breach for capture. If that failed, the plan had been to try to force the thing out to sea once more.

“Right as rain, lad,” she replied. “Though I’m a wee bit concerned about the submersible. I don’t think there’ll be any saving her.”

The cowboy smiled. “Better to replace a ship than you, darlin’.” He winked and then walked toward a group of people who had just arrived in a large vehicle pulled by several automaton horses. The back of the vehicle was a huge metal tank.

“Looks like the Royal Society has arrived,” Sam announced. He hadn’t even bristled when Jasper flirted with her. While this was a good sign, showing that he trusted her and was secure in their relationship, a little jealousy wouldn’t have been unwelcome. She was becoming one of those foolish girls who wanted to be the center of the universe.

“That tank’s not very big.” She frowned. “It will fit, but just barely.”

He shrugged his incredibly broad shoulders. “It should hold until they get to the aquarium. It won’t be our problem regardless.”

He had a point. And perhaps it was for the best if the beast had limited movement for those giant tentacles could crush a man to death with the ease of snapping a twig.

To say the society people were amazed would be an understatement. They stared openly—not just at the Kraken but at the containment bubble, as well.

The Royal Society was scientifically driven, of course they’d be enthralled by what Griffin had conjured. Griffin didn’t look the least bit concerned—another disturbing fact. He had always stressed the need for secrecy, knowing full well that society would either fear them or exploit them for what they could do.

The Society’s driver backed the vehicle as close to the edge of the dock as was safe. Two men scampered up iron ladders bolted to the side of the tank to turn matching wheels. A loud clang—almost like that of a church bell too close to your head—sounded as the lid of the tank flipped open.

“How the devil do we get it into the tank?” One of the lady members asked.

A group of spectators had gathered round. Emily wasn’t the least bit surprised. There seemed to be nothing Londoners liked better than a scenario in which someone might get maimed or—if the onlookers were very fortunate—killed. Unfortunately, a crowd made the chance of an accident all too great.

“Maybe I can tip the carriage over the edge of the dock,” Sam suggested. “It would make driving the thing into the tank easier.”

Griffin shook his head at Sam and straightened his spine. He even waved Finley off as she tried to offer him support. Emily’s chest tightened. She’d known Griffin quite a while now, and she knew that stubborn expression on his face. What was he about?

The bubble containing the Kraken began to float toward the society’s vehicle. The crowd gasped in unison.

“Bloody hell!” someone gasped.

Sam scowled. “Now he’s just showing off.”

Emily stared as the water-filled Aether field slid down into the tank as carefully and precisely as though gently placed there by a giant, invisible hand rather than the force of Griffin’s will. The men on the tank slammed the top down as the bubble burst and water splashed over the side.

One of the men from the society turned to Emily and Sam, his eyes wide. “What did that?” His mustache twitched.

“It’s a new scientific advancement for the navy,” Emily lied, jaw clenched. “A device meant to save sinking ships or drowning men. It’s still being tested.”

“Brilliant,” the man replied, looking slightly dazed. “Simply brilliant. Who built it? I would very much like to ask the fellow to speak at one of our gatherings.”

Blast. “I cannot tell you that, sir. Only His Grace has that information, and you know how close he likes to hold such things.” And she was going to kick His Grace’s backside for such a blatant display of his abilities.

The man nodded and set off toward Griffin, who looked as though he might fall down at any moment. He swiped at his nose with a handkerchief, then shoved the linen in his pocket, but not before Emily saw the blood on it.

Damn fool. He wouldn’t learn his limits until his brain slid out his nostrils.

“You reckon sending him after Griff was a good idea?” Sam asked.

Emily scowled at him. “Let him tell his own lies. He wants to show off in public, that’s his business. He can ruddy well figure out how to explain it.” Maybe that wasn’t fair of her, but she was worried about him, afraid for him, and that often manifested as annoyance in her.

Thankfully people would believe that a machine could do such things. These days folks lapped up science like it was fresh cream and they were a hungry kitten. No, machines they could forgive for doing fantastic things. People, on the other hand, were a different kettle of fish.

People like the five of them—people who weren’t “normal”—scared the rest of the world. She’d read Mary Shelley’s book about the monster, Mr. Stevenson’s book about Jekyll and Hyde (said to have been based on Finley’s own father), Stoker’s vampire novel…none of them ended well for the character who wasn’t simply “human.” None of them—herself and her friends—were monsters, but she didn’t want to try arguing that point against a pitchfork and torch-carrying mob. To them there’d be little difference between herself and the Kraken.

Griffin’s little stunt called attention to them, just as Sam would have done if he’d moved that tank with his remarkable strength. A mob would be the least of their worries if people found out about them. Better the wrong end of a pitchfork than in a cage being poked and prodded, or in a freak show. Griffin’s power as a duke would help them, but she’d had to put it to the test.

The Royal Society packed up and left and the crowd dispersed, having realized that there was nothing more to see. Sam went to Griffin’s side and, after a few seconds, Emily followed after him. It would be stupid for her to remain apart when the rest of the group stood together. Petty, as well.

Finley turned to her as she approached. She looked bulky in her underwater suit, but she grabbed Emily up in a fierce hug. Good thing she was already wet and chilled.

“Are you all right?”

Emily nodded. “I’ll have a few bruises later, but nothing my wee beasties can’t fix. You?”

Finley shrugged. “As right as I’ll ever be. At least we got it.” The subtle shift in her voice said more than words ever could. We hadn’t gotten anything. Griffin was responsible for the thing’s capture. If she gave herself any credit it would be that she drove it to the surface so he could seize it.

“Let’s get out of here,” Emily suggested. “Griffin’s not looking so good.”

Griffin turned to shoot her an indignant glance. “Will the lot of you stop fussing over me like I was an invalid? I’m perfectly—” His eyes rolled back in his head as he collapsed to the rough wooden planks.

“Griffin!” Finley was the first to reach him, even though Sam was closer. She gave his pale cheek a light slap. “Griff?”

“Jasper,” Emily commanded, watching blood trickle from Griffin’s nose at an alarming rate. “Get the carriage.”

Copyright © 2013 by Kady Cross

ISBN-13: 9781459254886

THE WILD ADVENTURE OF JASPER RENN

Copyright © 2013 by Kady Cross

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