The Alloy Heart

Prologue

The slender man clenched his fists as he stared down at the two beating hearts—one flesh, one metal. Another failure. The flesh continued to beat as it responded to the electrical currents to which he was submitting it. Thump. Thump. Thump. The pneumatic valves of the mechanical heart, on the other hand, whirring and hissing, slowly began to stutter to a halt. The man ground his teeth in time with the heart’s death rattles. Time was

running

out

.

Chapter

One

Tuesday, 3rd

May

1887

Sometime after 2:

00

a.m

.

Inspector Thomas Hill leaned against the gas lamppost and tried to choke down the bile that was attempting to rise in his throat. The scene laid out before him had already brought up the lunches of the two bobbies that found the body. But, as Scotland Yard’s youngest inspector, Hill couldn’t afford to look weak in front of his subordinates, especially those that were his elder. Most of the Yard already felt that he held his position only because his late father was a golfing acquaintance of Colonel Thomas de Veil, whom everyone knew was not morally opposed to accepting the occasional bribe. Nothing could be further from the truth, however, and Inspector Hill intended to earn the reputation of his peers, one way or another. One way, certainly, would be to catch the monster that had done … whatever

this

was

.

It was the second body found west of Arlington Street in as many weeks. The previous victim was found in an alley near Berkeley Square, this one in Hyde Park. Much like the first victim, there appeared to be some type of … machinery implanted in the poor soul’s chest. Unlike the first, which had been found face down, this one was lying face up, with a shower of gore surrounding her body. Bits of flesh, bone, and copious amounts of blood soaked the grass in all directions within ten feet of the lifeless figure. A slight drizzle had begun sometime during the night, causing the red liquid to leech into the grass.

Inspector Hill placed a handkerchief over his face and knelt close to the prone woman, careful not to disturb his surroundings. The first thing Hill noticed, besides the gaping hole in the middle of her chest, was the victim was young, probably no more than eighteen, and beautiful. The second thing he noticed was that the heart, for that is clearly what the mechanical contraption implanted in the girl appeared to be, was emitting a faint humming sound, much like one of Tesla’s newfangled lamps emit after they’ve lost their charge. The device had a hole directly in the front of it surrounded by twisted metal and brown scorch marks. Hill wished he could say it was first time he’d ever seen something like this. But, similar to the mutilated body that was found a week ago, this victim’s original heart had been removed. A thorough search of the previous crime scene had not revealed the missing organ. Thomas had no doubt the same would be true again.

Against his better judgment perhaps, Inspector Hill removed the leather glove from his right hand and reached slowly toward the metal heart. As soon as his skin made contact, a blue spark shot from the mechanical body part into his finger, causing him to yelp and stumble backward, landing unsanctimoniously on his backside. So much for not disturbing the scene.

Easy, Inspector. Those things pack a punch. The same thing happened to Officer Harvey with the other one when he tried to touch it. It took about an hour for the thing to lose its pop. Couldn’t even remove it from the victim until it cooled down. They’re bloody hot too. We took turns seeing who could hold their finger on it the longest once we’d gotten her down to the morgue.

The scratchy voice belonged to John Foster, Hill’s assistant Inspector. Hill never ceased to be amazed by the man. While seemingly every other cop on the force was crooked, Foster was honest, loyal to a fault, and probably the only cop in the Yard who believed that Hill had earned his stripes through simple hard work. While Hill would trust the man with his life, there was a distance between them that went deeper than merely those found between supervisors and their subordinates, a distance based upon society, class, and upbringing. Foster was so crude he never even considered that he shouldn’t be placing his grubby hands into the chest cavity of a dead woman, not to mention informing his superior of the incident. John reached a thick-fingered hand down to his boss, who took it appreciatively, hoisting

himself

up

.

I remember, Assistant Inspector, Thomas responded once he was firmly planted back on his feet. If I’m not mistaken, Dr. Adams gave you quite a tongue lashing for your antics.

Ah, well, what do ya expect from someone who gets his kicks from cutting open dead bodies? Foster shrugged. He’s no sense of humor, that one. You remember when I put that bucket ‘a water over the door to the rot room? He actually had the bollocks to tell the captain. I had to work Jacob’s Island for a month. You know what that place is like. I got a beer bottle over the head once and almost got stabbed twice. And that was just the women.

Inspector Hill just shook his head. No self-respecting doctor likes being doused with water in the middle of his shift, much less hearing his examination room referred to as a ‘rot room.’ Though they’d developed somewhat of a friendship over the past few years, times like these reminded Thomas just how different he and John actually were. Growing up as the son of a financier, Hill was taught a much different standard of behavior than Foster, whose father was a bricklayer and whose mother was a seamstress. Despite his rudimentary nature, John Foster had a brilliant investigative mind that Thomas had grown to rely on. Crudeness could be overlooked in an assistant inspector; incompetence could not. In addition, owing to that same upbringing, Foster was sometimes welcomed where Hill was given the cold shoulder. Foster knew how to get information. He could make fences show their wares, harlots reveal the names of their customers, and informants sing like canaries. It didn’t hurt that the man was well over six feet tall and built like a steamship. In spite of his bulk, he had an honest, handsome face and a hidden charm that the women of London seemed to melt under.

Seeing a pattern, John? Hill finally asked his assistant, bringing the man back to the present. Both detectives were staring down at the figure, contemplating the implications of another bizarre corpse. The body itself lay in the grass, a look of confusion on its smooth, clean face, a stark contrast to the mangled chaos being displayed from the woman’s center.

"I’ve seen girls cut up, boss, almost always pretty ones, but nothing like this. Why take out the hearts and put in the motors? I don’t get it. People are crazy, that’s what my gram

always

said

."

Indeed, sighed the Inspector. Do you know if Adams has filed his report yet? I’m curious to know if our original victim suffered any kind of sexual assault.

Yep, just read it this morning. Foster nodded, his shaggy auburn hair swaying, threatening to unseat his bowler hat. She was all clean down there. Just the heart’s what was weird.

Stranger still,

replied

Hill

.

Madness, I say, responded Foster.

I wouldn’t jump to that conclusion so readily, Assistant Inspector Foster. We’ve no evidence our killer is insane. Gruesome? Yes, but not insane.

You don’t know mechanics like I do, Thom. I served wit’ ’em in India. People always say it’s the suicide jumpers that’s messed up in the head. Might be. You got to be a bit nuts to jump from those dirigibles, especially carrying all that dynamite. But I never met a mechanic weren’t a tick away from losing his marbles. It’s the pressure, see? Always having to be so precise. You know what happens if they make a mistake with the plasma torch when they’s cuttin’ a crystal? John spread his hands and mouthed the word ‘Boom.’ "They’re brilliant. Don’t get me wrong. Not just anyone what can call out the magic in the crystals. But they all got a touch o’ the madness,

I

say

."

And what make you think it was a mechanic?

"Are ya blind, man? Or perhaps you got no feelin’ ya fingers? What do ya think that was that just sent you sprawlin’ on yer backside? That was flux crystal power if I ever

seen

it

."

Well, then where is the crystal? Thomas bent down again to examine the mechanical organ lodged in the yet unidentified victim’s body, this time keeping his hands carefully to himself. All I see are gears and metal.

Don’t get me ta lyin’, Inspector. I recognize that blue zap you got, but that don’t mean I understand how it works, does it? I’m no guild member.

Thomas was silent for a moment, rubbing his chin. He finally breathed "I confess I don’t know as much about Mr. Tesla’s amazing lasers as I would like. I checked with the Chief Inspector after we found the first heart. I wouldn’t say he exactly stonewalled me, but he encouraged me to eliminate all other possibilities before pursing any official inquiry into the mechanic’s guild. Do you still have that contact in the guild? We are going to need an expert on this one. I want to know if he has seen anything like this before."

Yea, Zachariah’s still there, far as I know. I’ll pay him a visit this afternoon. Don’t expect him ta be bendin’ over backward to help us though. He doesn’t have the best relationship with the Yard, if you know what I mean. Not to mention they are all sworn to secrecy. Even if they wanted to talk about stuff like this, and most of ’em don’t on account of being afraid someun else’ll steal their ideas, Tesla makes sure they stay tight lipped. Any of ’em caught spilling guild secrets is chucked out immediately.

"Perhaps his professional curiosity will be piqued. Don’t give him any details, of course. Just tell him that whoever made this … thing must have a good degree of knowledge of the crystals. At the very least, we might be able to widen our pool of potential suspects. Our killer must have some connection to the mechanic’s guild. No one else would have the resources or the

know

-

how

."

If that’s the case, we may as well give up now, John responded grimly. "Lord Grey’s so snugly in bed with the guild, they might as well be spoons in a drawer. You’d be better off accusing your own mother as one

a

them

."

Still, we must do our duty, Thomas replied. "If that means investigating Old Greybeard’s weapons makers, then so be it. How do you think she

got

here

?"

I believe she walked, replied Foster. Look there.

Foster indicated a faint depression in the damp grass that led from the cobblestone walkway to the place where the girl now lay. The walkway began at Park Lane and continued throughout

the

park

.

Hill surveyed the scene for a few moments. It appears that a few feet inside the gate, she stepped off the path and walked to the spot where she fell. I don’t see any other tracks, do you? asked Thomas as he scanned the

immediate

area

.

No sir, said John, "and no drag marks. Which means she walked here on her own. But look at the grass. These footsteps aren’t evenly spaced. Looks like she mighta been strugglin’

to

walk

."

"Agreed, which means that she was likely incapacitated in some way before

she

fell

."

That hole in her chest would be quite the incapacitation.

But she couldn’t have had that before she got here, observed Inspector Hill. "Could you imagine walking across the park with that in your chest? Not to mention that gore spatter. No, I would guess that she stumbled across the park, trip and felled, either on her back, or onto her stomach and then she subsequently rolled onto her back. Then … well, you see what

happened

next

."

But how could that have happened? asked John, absentmindedly rubbing his own chest.

"No idea. Like you said, Foster, you’re no mechanic and neither

am

I

."

The men turned as they heard the clatter of hooves on the cobblestone street. The hansom cab had finally come to take the body to the medical examiner’s office.

Meat wagon’s here, Foster remarked offhandedly.

Please, man. A woman is dead. Show a little respect, Thom reproved.

Think she cares, does she? John chuckled, unflappable as always.

I’ll ride with the body, said Thom, ignoring his assistant’s question. "I’m sure Dr. Adams is going to be in a foul mood when he sees this, and I don’t want you making it worse. You round up a couple of officers and start knocking on doors. Someone had to have seen something. If this one was thrashing about like the last one, the whole neighborhood would’ve

heard

her

."

Chapter

Two

Tuesday, 3rd

May

1887

Sometime around 9:

00

a.m

.

It’s all rather exciting, isn’t it? Olivia Hill asked as she grabbed the newspaper and dropped into an armchair while her eyes flitted across the front page of The Daily Courant. It was early. She and Sophia had just had their breakfast, and the young girl was practically bounced with anticipation, as though she were reading about an upcoming ball rather than two murders that had sent the good citizens of London into an outright panic. "The paper says both the bodies were young women and that their hearts had been ripped right out of their chests. Blood everywhere. The second body was found only this morning. Can you

believe

that

?"

I do wonder how they can report the news so quickly. They must have someone whose sole purpose is to follow around the beat cops, hoping to catch a glimpse of anything scandalous. But perhaps you could be a little less gleeful about the taking of innocent lives? Sophia offered. Sophia was resting in a chaise lounge, reading a book about the New Americas, having already scanned the financial section of the paper, the only part that seemed to hold any interest

for

her

.

How do we know they were innocent? Olivia challenged. "For all we know these women could be part of some seedy underworld, partaking in the sordid affairs of high officials. Perhaps their deaths are a way to keep the information from going public. You know father always said that half of London’s councilmen were crooked and the other

half

were

—

"

Twisted, interrupted Sophia. "

I

know

."

Furthermore, Nora told me that the first victim, Lorraine Tanner, was a harlot.

Sophia huffed as she shut the book she had been reading with a snap and dropped it onto the ornate mahogany coffee table.

And how would Nora know? Oh, good heavens, Olivia. Really? This isn’t one of your… She waved her hand in the air dismissively. …ridiculous mystery books that you so often waste your time with. This is real life, and those are real women who were butchered. You shouldn’t talk so ill of the dead, especially those given over to the state against their will in such a violent manner.

Does one ever enter death of their free will? Olivia asked with a mischievous glint in her bright green eyes. She watched as Sophia pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. Olivia knew her sister loved her dearly. In fact, Sophia and Olivia were best friends. But Olivia also knew that Sophia thought her much too fanciful for her own good. I’m pretty sure that death is always a journey a person must embark upon whether they want to or not. I, myself, will go kicking and screaming, Olivia said, nodding, as if that would make

it

so

.

Sophia was all too acquainted with the realities of death. She knew from personal experience that when death came knocking, the door would open whether you answered it or not. It had been at her own doorstep for over a year. A year ago, yesterday, actually. The doctor had told her that her heart was failing. Death had come, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. It was simply a matter of time before she too was taken against her will, leaving those she loved behind to pick up the pieces.

Oh, I forgot to tell you, Claire Abernathy got AT lights, can you believe that? I so wish we could get some, Olivia remarked, switching topics and abruptly pulling Sophia back to the present.

Well, if you owned as many tenant houses as Claire’s father, then I expect you could. But why would you want them? They’re ghastly, Sophia said, shaking her head at her sister.

"They are not ghastly. They are beautiful. Especially the pink ones. Which ones make the pink? Tourmaline? Rhodonite? I can never remember."

I don’t care, Sophia said sourly. "They’re dangerous. Why any sane person would have them installed is

beyond

me

."

Don’t be such a bore, her younger sister responded. "

They’re

just

—

"

A bore? Sophia interrupted. You think I’m being a bore just because I don’t want our house blown to bits. And what would we do then? We’d be on the streets. Last time I checked we weren’t exactly flushed with cash. Have you got some gold bars you’ve been hiding under your bed? If so, feel free. Go ahead, get your precious Tesla lights.

Olivia was crestfallen. That’s not fair, the girl finally said. You know I was only dreaming out loud. You needn’t be so harsh. I fully understand our situation. I would never do anything to jeopardize our family.

Olivia knew why her sister was so touchy about their finances. As the oldest sibling, she felt a great responsibility for the family’s continued wellbeing, not just financially, but socially as well. It had been two years since the terrible day when their father fell dead with an aneurysm. As their mother had died giving birth to Olivia, the three siblings, now young adults, no longer had the wisdom of their parents to guide them. Sophia had been the rock that had gotten them all through an extremely

difficult

time

.

Everyone looked to Thomas for financial decisions because he was a man, but Sophia was the one who actually understood all the books. She’d made the tough decision to eliminate their cook and butler, even though Thom argued strongly against it. Thom had a great investigative mind, always exploring, endlessly probing until he found the clue he needed, but he had no head for business. Often, as a young girl, Sophia sat at her father’s feet, listening to him talk about wheat futures, pork bellies, and the prices of strange foreign currencies against the British pound. During those times, Olivia would pull fiercely on her older sister’s arm, hoping to convince her to play dolls or attend a make-believe tea party. Sophia would have none of it. She was fascinated by numbers, and she hung on her father’s every word like a toddler listening to a bedtime story.

It was during those moments, while Sophia listened so intently to her father’s words, that Olivia would notice the look in the man’s eyes. Edward Hill wasn’t ashamed or disappointed in his youngest two children, Oliva or Thomas, but it was clear who his favorite was. Olivia was certain if their father could have snapped his fingers and turned Sophia into a boy, he would have done so in a heartbeat. And wouldn’t that have been the best for them all. Then Sophia could have gained employment at their father’s investment banking firm, inherited their father’s clients, and done just as well for the family as he had. But that wasn’t how it worked. As a woman, she would never be offered any kind of position in the financial industry. Even if she were, it would bring shame upon their family. A woman occupied as a banker—what would the

neighbors

say

?

Despite this, Olivia knew that Sophia would take care of them. In addition to dismissing almost all the staff, the eldest Hill child had also planned a budget for the family for the next few years. Given frugal living, a commitment to only attend the most important of balls, and the supplementation of Thomas’ salary as an inspector, they could stretch the savings left by their father to provide a comfortable living for all three of them for at least five years. By that time, Olivia will have found a husband, Thomas would likely be wed as well, and Sophia… Olivia shook that thought from her head before she

finished

it

.

Determined to justify her fanciful desire for colored interior lights to replace their boring orange gas ones, the feisty redheaded continued on in a matter-of-fact tone. And if you’re referring to that little explosion on Davies Street, Claire said that only happened because Mr. Tesla wasn’t there himself to supervise. Apparently, he has to personally oversee any crystal cutting. He is the only one who knows how to do it properly, and he is so secretive that he refuses to teach any of his workers.

Doesn’t that kind of prove my point? asked Sophia, her face still showing disapproval.

Just then the ladies heard three sharp raps on the front door’s brass knocker.

I’ll get it, Olivia said, rising and moving to the foyer. I’m sure Nora is upstairs gathering the linens for washing. Sophia grabbed her arm as she

walked

by

.

I’m sorry to be harsh, sister. I forget that I’m not the only one affected by my condition.

Tears that always seemed just below the surface swam in Olivia’s eyes. It’s not fair. You are the strong one. How can you have a weak heart?

Don’t think on it now, her older sister responded, her own eyes, though a bit hollow from fatigue, were completely dry. "Get the door. If it’s any kind of solicitor, send

him

away

."

Olivia shook her head, biting her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She paused a minute at the door, wiping her eyes and composing herself. She inhaled deeply and pulled the

door

open

.

Why, Dr. Elliot, she exclaimed. What a pleasant surprise. And you brought me flowers? How thoughtful. Olivia snatched the flowers from his hand and jumped up to give him a quick peck on the cheek, a task made considerably difficult because of his height, somewhere in the neighborhood of six foot three inches. Chrysanthemums, my favorite. How did you know? They are a bit crumpled, she said, scrunching up her face at the bouquet.

Olivia, my dear, you know perfectly well who those flowers are for. Elliot couldn’t help smiling in spite of himself.

He is even more handsome when he smiles. I do hope my sister will come to her senses.

Oh, sister dear, Olivia called out loudly. "There’s a solicitor here to see you. Should I turn

him

away

?"

I’m not a solicitor, Dr. Elliot protested.

But you are, Olivia said, grabbing his hand and pulling him further into the house. "A solicitor of the most persistent sort. But you’re not selling anything. Oh no, you are looking to buy. Unfortunately, my sister is being pricklier than usual today. I’d tread lightly if I

were

you

."

Sophia practically stormed out of the drawing room into the parlor. I thought I told you to send— she began before stopping short as she saw Dr. Elliot. She turned her chocolate eyes to Olivia and stared daggers

at

her

.

Well, I think I’ll just go and put my chrysanthemums in some water, the younger girl said as she started moving toward the kitchen, a huge grin upon

her

face

.

Thanks for the warning, Elliot whispered and winked at her as she passed, his crystal blue eyes sparkling.

Dr. Jackson Elliot rapped the knocker at 34 Mount Street three times loudly. The sky was overcast, threating an early spring thunderstorm. He waited, unconsciously squeezing the bouquet of fresh flowers he was holding in his hands. Seeming to realize that he was torturing the poor flowers unnecessarily, he took a deep breath and tried to relax. This task was not an easy one. An exhausting Monday seeing patients at his clinic and a long night in his laboratory had sapped his energy. But fatigue was not an option. He was scheduled for surgery at eleven o’clock this morning. Nothing serious, only a small cyst removal. Still, surgery was always risky business, and he needed to be at his best. One thing never failed to give