Wolves and Daggers_A Steampunk Fairy Tale Read online

  I frowned. “Now, we both know that’s not an option. Cyril is, no doubt, dead by now. Marlowe as well, or did you miss Constantine making a snack out of that crusty old bugger? Speaking of, even if I don’t end you now, the vampire will likely hunt you down and kill you. I have some nice silver cuffs here. Let me go ahead and slip them on. Show Her Majesty you’re willing to talk. Maybe she’ll let you rot away somewhere, spare your miserable life.”

  “Or, you holster those pistols, and I walk.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “You aren’t leaving me with options, Little Red,” he said then looked up at the window once more.

  I pulled the hammers back on my pistols.

  The werewolf growled, his anger boiling. “You must be either really brave or really stupid.”

  “Probably a bit of both, I confess,” I said. I closed my right eye, looking through the optic on the left. I could see him even more clearly this way. There was no way that werewolf would get past me.

  “Shame to kill you. You’re too pretty. Wonder if you taste as good as you smell,” Fenton said.

  Again with the smell. His odd comment threw me off guard.

  The beast crouched then lunged at me.

  Dammit.

  Taking aim, I shot at the monster.

  The beast yelped but came at me again. I shot once more, but he kept coming. I felt my breath go out of me as the werewolf slammed me to the ground. My pistols bounced out of my hands as I hit the cobblestone hard.

  A slathering face, half-man half-wolf, looked down at me as he pinned me to the ground. He was bleeding profusely from both his stomach and his left shoulder. He barred his teeth, slobber dripping onto me as he glared down at me. He eyed the optic I wore.

  Sneering, he slashed the device off my face.

  I screamed as his claws raked my face.

  But at that same moment, my instincts kicked in. I reached into my belt and grabbed the silver dagger that I always wore. Squeezing my hand around the blade, feeling the silver sing in response to my touch, I heaved it with all my might and slammed it into the werewolf’s chest.

  Fenton let out a strange howl that quickly faded into a gurgle. He then tipped over, falling off me.

  Gasping, I sat up.

  I couldn’t see out of my left eye. Blood was dripping down my face. I quickly grabbed a scarf from my pocket and held it against my eye. Fenton lay on the street. He had transformed fully into wolf form as they all did when they were dead.

  Sneering, I knelt beside him.

  “This is for Quinn,” I said then sinking my silver blade into his flesh, I skinned off a massive piece of silver fur from his hide.

  I rose then, my knees shaking, and looked up at the window.

  Grand-mère was pressed against the glass. When she saw it was me, she screamed.

  Black spots swam before my eyes, and I tumbled to my knees. I stared down at the silver blade in my hand. Strange. Through the hazy vision of my bloody eye, the blade shimmered blue.

  The front door opened. “Clemeny,” Grand-mère screamed, rushing into the street. She scooped me up in her arms. “Clemeny, oh my God.”

  “Send word to Greystock,” I whispered.

  “Clemeny? Clemeny! Missus Rossiter, send for a surgeon,” Grand-mère called to a neighbor who must have come outside to see what all the commotion was about.

  “Is that a wolf? A wolf? In the streets of London?” the woman replied, astonished.

  “Stupid woman, send for a surgeon!” Grand-mère demanded then turned her attention back to me. “You’re all right now, my girl. Don’t you worry. You got that old sinner. Don’t worry, I’m here,” she said.

  And then I fainted in her arms.

  Chapter 19: Who’s Afraid of the Big, Bad Wolf?

  I woke in a too-bright room with an awful headache. I opened my eyes slowly, but a sharp pain rocked my left eye so terribly that I let out a little whine.

  “Agent, don’t try to open your left eye. Let me go fetch the doctor. Just lie back and rest.”

  “Where am I?” I eyed the woman carefully, noting the pin on her lapel, the initials R. M. encapsulated in a circle. She worked for the Rude Mechanicals.

  “Newstead Abbey,” she said then turned and left.

  Newstead Abbey? What in the world was I doing in Nottingham?

  My whole body ached. I reached up and touched my face. There were bandages on my cheek and forehead, and my entire eye was covered.

  I closed my good eye and lay back.

  I heard footsteps and voices in the hallway. A moment later, the door to my room opened. Someone sat down at the side of my bed and took my hand. I opened my eye a crack to see Agent Greystock sitting there.

  “Clemeny,” she said softly.

  “Agent Greystock. How is Grand-mère? Is she all right?”

  “Fine, fine,” Agent Greystock said. “Angry with me, but fine.”

  “What happened?”

  “Fenton. You were gravely injured. The surgeon informed us you may have lost use of your eye permanently. And… you have a scratch on your face, from your hairline to your cheek.”

  I paused a moment. “I… I meant with Lionheart and the others. Is everyone all right?” While my chief concern had not been about my own injuries—it was plain to me that I was banged up—I considered her words. The wounds she described were both severe and disfiguring.

  Agent Greystock nodded. “Agent Rose reported in,” she said then shook her head. “Willful girl. Bold, brave, but reckless. Cyril is dead. Marlowe is dead. Lupercal pack… They’re either dead or arrested, as are Whitechapel, Conklin, and Paddington.”

  “Arresting werewolves won’t do much to ease their seething anger.”

  “No, but deporting them to Australia will help. They will either accept the new alpha, or they will take a long ride bound in silver to the colony of thieves.”

  “The new alpha… Lionheart?”

  Agent Greystock nodded, but she looked pensive. “For now, at least. He is adamant that he doesn’t want to retain the role. He met with Her Majesty. I was there. It was a difficult conversation. But he inquired about you and sent his wishes for your speedy recovery.”

  “He’s not half bad, for a werewolf.”

  Agent Greystock smiled lightly, but I could see her mind was still troubled.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Clemeny… I can’t forgive myself for what has happened to you, Quinn, and Agent Reid. I underestimated the packs—”

  “We all did.”

  “No. I should have seen a larger problem was brewing. I missed it. I, well, I have asked for a transfer to archives.”

  “No.”

  “It’s time for someone with more experience in the field, someone who will understand your work and the danger, to take charge. Her Majesty took my suggestions for a replacement into consideration. She has selected an agent based out of Scotland who comes highly recommended and is well known for hunting demons. By the time you recover, he’ll be on the job.”

  “But Agent Greystock… The job won’t be the same.”

  “No. But Lionheart will need you. Her Majesty will need you. A smooth exchange of power must take place, or there will be chaos. The Red Cape Society must take a prominent role, and word on the street is that Little Red is the most feared werewolf hunter in London. I need you back to work. Agent Hunter will be expecting you to report in as soon as you are fully recovered.”

  “Agent Hunter?”

  “Edwin Hunter. Your new commanding officer.”

  I frowned. “Sounds like a prat.”

  Agent Greystock chuckled. “Well, I guess you’ll have to see for yourself. There is a lot of work ahead of you. Whichever wolves Her Majesty doesn’t send off to enjoy the wilds of Australia will be turned loose back on the street with nothing more than a promise that they will behave and follow the leadership of the new alpha.”

  “Highly unlikely, you know.”

  “Of course. That’s w
hy you need to recover soon. London has always had a werewolf problem. It will be up to you to keep them in check. Get some rest, Clemeny. Her Majesty needs you,” she said with a smile then turned and headed back out of the room.

  I lay back on my pillow and closed my good eye.

  It would be all right.

  Lionheart would get the packs in check, and I would get any outliers in hand. I’d recover and be back on the street in no time. Fenton was gone. And despite whatever ugly mess was under my bandages, nothing would stop me from keeping the streets of London safe.

  I had never been afraid of a big bad wolf.

  And I wouldn’t start now.

  * * *

  Continue Clemeny’s Story in Alphas and Airships

  With Lionheart as the new alpha, the streets of London are quiet. But above the realm, mischief is brewing.

  While airship pirates are a common plague upon the kingdom, the airship Fenrir proves particularly troublesome—especially on a full moon.

  Clemeny must take to the skies before these shape-shifting Vikings kick off a new Ragnarok. Easier said than done now that she's down one good eye, a partner, and not to mention the fact that she gets motion sick.

  On top of that, the new scar across her face makes Clemeny feel like she'll have better luck intimidating her foes than finding a beau. But Agent Edwin Hunter, recently assigned as head of Clemeny's division, is proving to be an interesting prospect. Despite her apprehensions, it's up to Agent Louvel to chase Fenrir across the heavens.

  Thank you

  Thank you so much for joining me for this first adventure in Clemeny’s series. Initially, I’d only planned to write one steampunk Red Riding Hood book, but Clemeny told me she had more to say. She’s kind of intimidating, so I didn’t disagree. I have six novels planned for her story arc. If you join my newsletter, I’ll keep you updated on all her releases as well as any other steampunk fairy tales. The characters of the Knave and Caterpillar and the tavern the Mushroom, briefly featured in this novel, play a large role in Curiouser and Curiouser: Steampunk Alice in Wonderland. You’ll find lots of little Easter eggs like that planted throughout all my steampunk series. Be sure to join my newsletter for more details. You’ll also get some free books and goodies just for joining. You can find me here:

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  If you have just a moment, would you mind leaving me a review? Word of mouth is an author’s best friend, and other readers would like to know what you think. As well, the more reviews I have, the better my chances of securing premium advertising spots and other opportunities for visibility. I do read all my reviews. I appreciate your time and thoughts. Thank you!

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to Becky Stephens, Jessica Nelson, and Carrie Wells for their help shaping this book.

  Thank you to Erin Hayes for making my paperbacks beautiful.

  A special thanks to all my Steampunk Fairy Tales ARC readers!

  Thank you to Karri Klawiter for designing such a beautiful cover.

  Thanks to Mark Fisher and my friends at Electromagnetic Press for hauling my books all over the country!

  As always, thank you to the BIC group and my beloved family for all of your support.

  About the Author

  Melanie Karsak is the author of The Airship Racing Chronicles, The Harvesting Series, The Burnt Earth Series, The Celtic Blood Series, and the Steampunk Fairy Tales Series. A steampunk connoisseur, zombie whisperer, and heir to the iron throne, the author currently lives in Florida with her husband and two children. She is an Instructor of English at Eastern Florida State College.

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  Wolves and Daggers, Book 1

  Alphas and Airships, Book 2

  Peppermint and Pentacles, Book 3

  Check out all of Melanie’s Steampunk Fairy Tales

  Beauty and Beastly: Steampunk Beauty and the Beast

  Ice and Embers: Steampunk Snow Queen

  Curiouser and Curiouser: Steampunk Alice in Wonderland

  Ready to go airship racing? Meet Lily Stargazer and her crew in The Airship Racing Chronicles (this series contains mature content)

  Chasing the Star Garden

  Chasing the Green Fairy

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  Sneak Peek: Curiouser and Curiouser: Steampunk Alice in Wonderland

  To save the Hatter, Alice must work with the one man she despises so much that she might still love him.

  Alice thought she’d turned over a new leaf. No more working for Jabberwocky. No more making deals with the ruthless Queen of Hearts. No more hanging around The Mushroom with tinkers, tarts, scoundrels, and thieves in London's criminal underbelly. But she’d been bonkers to dream.

  Hatter’s reckless behavior leads Alice back to the one person she never wanted to see again, Caterpillar. Pulled into Caterpillar's mad schemes, Alice must steal a very big diamond from a very royal lady. The heist is no problem for this Bandersnatch. But protecting her heart from the man she once loved? Impossible.

  Sometimes love is mad.

  Curiouser and Curiouser: Chapter 1: The Pocket Watch

  “Curious.” I strained to look out the window of the carriage at the crowd thronging toward Hyde Park. A man on a Daedalus steam-powered buggy motored past. The well-dressed ladies in the back seat, their parasols shading them from the late afternoon sun, laughed wildly as they sped by. “Where are they all going?”

  “The Crystal Palace,” Lord Dodgson pronounced grandly. “The Great Exhibition opened this week. I was planning to have a look myself,” he said, snapping the paper he was trying to read in an effort to straighten it, a motion he’d made ten times already since we’d left Hungerford Market. It was starting to get on my nerves.

  “Her Majesty already opened the exhibit?” I asked, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice.

  Lord Dodgson laughed. “Don’t you keep up on the local gossip, Alice? The whole town is talking about the Crystal Palace’s opening. A whole building made of glass and filled with mechanical inventions and wonders from the world afar…what a sight. I heard the opening was grand. Crowded but grand.”

  I frowned. I’d thought the opening was next week. The park was located close to Lord Dodgson’s London home. I’d hoped to catch a glimpse of Queen Victoria but had missed my chance once again.

  Half hanging out the carriage window, I strained to get a look at the festivities. The revelers had cleared a path and stood to watch as a man led a clockwork horse, its steel and copper body glinting in the sunlight, into the park. I could just make out tents sitting in Hyde Park’s green space. “Then I guess that means the airship races have started,” I said. In fact, the Great Exhibition’s opening had been timed to the British Airship Qualifying races.

  “I didn’t fancy you a fan of the aether sports,” Lord Dodgson said.

  “I’m not. But I have a friend who adores them.”

  Adores, of course, was the wrong word. I tried to calm the uneasy feeling that rocked my stomach. It was Friday. If the races had opened on Monday, then Henry might already be in trouble. Had I seen him that morning? Had he gone to the shop? I tried to think back but couldn’t remember. Last race season he’d gambled away everything he owned down to the clothes on his back. Even his favorite top hat had gone to some bloody airship pirate. Race season always equaled trouble for my dear friend who couldn’t help but try to hedge his bets. His reasons for trying were honorable. His methods, however, were suspect.

  “I�
�m not for any of that nonsense either,” Lord Dodgson proclaimed. “Racing around the sky like we were meant to have wings. No, no. My carriage will do just fine. It gets us where we need to go, doesn’t it, Alice?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Lord Dodgson laughed. “When you use formal address, you sound trite.”

  I grinned. “What an odd thing to say. Shouldn’t one try to adopt manners?”

  “Perhaps. But perhaps not when they are completely contradictory to that person’s general nature.”

  “But aren’t manners completely contradictory to all of mankind’s nature? If, in essence, we are little more than creatures who are brutish and sinful, then manners are merely a mask for the base matter that lives within us all. And if that’s the case, we’d be wise to drop them entirely, if we wanted to be more honest. Or should we all lie and adopt the best of manners, thus go around being false? At least we’d all be equally false.”

  Lord Dodgson laughed again then removed his monocle and looked at me. “Alice Lewis, you might be the brightest girl I’ve ever met.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, mister,” I replied with a wink.

  “Now, there’s the scruffy guttersnipe I hired,” he said then snapped his paper once more. “Is there another way to take that comment as anything but a compliment?”

  “At least five. Possibly more.”

  “Alice,” he said, shaking his head. He looked back at his reading.

  Well, it was true. Did he mean to imply he’d met only a few women of intelligence, or that most women were unintelligent, or that he thought he would meet wittier girls in the future, or when he said I might be bright did that mean he was uncertain, and how did he define bright anyway? Was he referring to my hair? Or maybe my eyes? Or did he just mean he found me intelligent? Thinking about it gave me a headache, and I was already a mess of nerves worrying that Henry had already gambled away every shilling he had. Come to think of it, Bess said he hadn’t been by for dinner last night.