The Incorruptibles (Book One, Frankenstein Vigilante): Frankenstein Vigilante: The Steampunk Series (Frankenstein Vigilante. The Steampunk Series.) by Lawrence Peter & Chris Trengove

Author:Lawrence, Peter & Chris Trengove [Lawrence, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Peter Lawrence & Chris Trengove
Published: 2014-06-23T07:00:00+00:00

The horses drawing Dalton’s chariot were lathered up, having galloped full pelt all the way from the Senate to the Marshes. But they knew they weren’t far from home, and although Dalton had reined them in to a steady canter, they strained forward, snuffling noisily. Straggling a few yards behind were another couple of chariots, driven by Noemi Galindo and Tilden St. Vincent, Dalton’s two most trusted lieutenants. When they’d driven out that morning there had been a fourth, driven by Paulina Ellamova, scion of a long-established Chavalier family and a fearsome warrior. But she’d last been seen going down under a scrum of baton-wielding cops, who had carted her off before Dalton and his group could get to her. Had she been anyone other than Paulina, all the witnesses to her capture would have given her up for dead, but she had an extraordinary ability to resurrect herself.

The trio of chariots now passed houses and businesses that hadn’t been occupied for decades, and as the horses thundered by it seemed that the vibration might finally bring them down. At the last of the wrecked houses, Dalton’s chariot approached what looked like a massive scrapyard-cum-garbage dump. Wrecked steamers, parts of steamers, old ironware, smashed furniture, all were strewn around in chaotic disarray.

Dalton reined in the horses and brought the chariot to a halt. Shelley Mary watched as he rooted about among his weapons and finally came up with a wicked-looking short-stock crossbow with a mahogany pistol grip. The satin sheen of the bow and the bolts proclaimed them to be made of ReForTin, though the bolts were iron-tipped. Dalton cocked the weapon, and Shelley Mary found her voice: “What are you planning to do with that?” Dalton grinned. He had white, even teeth and that alone would have set him apart from the majority of UnderGrunts. “Relax, I didn’t bring you all this way to shoot you.” Shelley Mary started to answer, but Dalton had already turned his attention from her. He poked the crossbow through the chariot’s vista viewer and steadied it, squinting along the stubby shaft of the bolt. He squeezed the trigger slowly and steadily, and finally fired.

Anyone standing outside would have barely been able to register the sequence of events – the flight of the bolt was almost as fast and invisible as that of a bullet – but they might have heard the report as the bolt hit the knock-off hubcap on one of the front wheels of an ancient, rusty steamer, jammed halfway up the mountain of detritus.

A moment later, a carefully balanced series of weights and counterweights ground into action, and what appeared to be nothing but a pile of tangled, rusty junk reshaped and realigned itself, with an asthmatic creaking and grinding, into the form of a wide gateway. It seemed to lead directly down into the darkest bowels of the earth.

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