Chapter 11
“Love doesn’t always run smoothly. Sometimes, it is a locomotive crash waiting to happen.”
Lord Justin Lear – Lock Lord
Wehurried through the streets,dodging and leaping around people and produce. Market day had never been such an obstacle before, and I could swear that extra pebbles threw themselves under my heels.
Hurry. Hurry. The wind whispered. Gear or no gear, if we didn’t reach him soon, it would be too late for Buster.
“Slow down, we have plenty of time,” Justin shouted.
“No, we don’t!” I ran faster. Urgency, an impatient fire, licked at my heels. There was no solid reason for my belief. It had only been four hours, not twenty-four. Logic denied the ache in my chest and the rocklike weight pressing on my heart. My lungs seized as I ran farther and harder than I ever had before. I wasn’t built for excitement. Magical doorways and transforming people were outside of my specialty. My life had never been more thrilling, nor my calm workshop more inviting. Give me some metal and a set of screws and I would be a content hermit.
Bam!
I slammed into a workman’s wooden cart. Bricks toppled onto the ground, leaving behind bruised toes and battered shins.
“Watch where you’re going!” The cart driver waved his fist.
“Sorry,” I shouted. Ducking around the angry worker, I continued my run. Time wasn’t my ally. A few strides later, I had to slow. My left knee throbbed, and a trickle of blood ran down my leg. I forced my body to continue moving, but the pain kept me from my previous speed. May the Lady save me from idiotic people who left their heavy carts in the middle my path.
“Coming, Marbrey?” Oss taunted as if I were crawling along. Oss’s slim figure weaved in and out of crowds without stopping. He’d always excelled at slipping around people while I bumbled along. Working as a Key Keeper had kept his skills sharp, while I’d allowed most of my street abilities to lapse. A situation I would be certain to fix in the upcoming months.
Finally, we reached the townhouse, and with a quick press of Oss’s hand, the door swung open. I thanked the Lord and Lady that Oss hadn’t chosen to become a master thief. With his magic, he could’ve looted the richest houses and lived like a Lord himself. I made a note to ask him about that sometime. Morals wouldn’t have stopped him. What had?
Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Brenson watching us from the alcove beneath the stairs. He didn’t get any less creepy with constant exposure. The uneasy itch crawling up my spine didn’t subsist until I left the landing and the butler’s line of sight. Oss might be on to something when he commented on Brenson’s suspicious behavior.
When we entered Buster’s bedroom, I came to a screeching halt. His corpselike stillness had me freezing in place. The catch in my throat wasn’t all from the brief race through town. Maybe money wasn’t the only reason I didn’t become a doctor.
“Don’t just stare, fix him,” Oss snarled.
Right. Fixing. That was why we had gone to all this trouble. My mind, which I had long prized as my best asset, took me more time than I’d like to admit to restart.
I stepped closer to the bed. “Does his flesh look grayer to you?”
Oss joined me in my examination. “Hmm. Maybe? I can’t tell. Does it matter?”
“Maybe?” In my limited experience, gray skin wasn’t a positive sign on anyone. “I would feel better if we could get Dr. Ballinger to check him out.”
The good doctor wouldn’t ask any awkward questions, likewhat the fuck are you doing?Ballinger treated street kids who hid both their injuries and their cause, then charged the gentry twice as much for his services to balance out the cost. No one minded because he was the best at what he did.
“We can fetch the good doctor once you’ve put Buster back together.” Justin stood in the doorway next to his brother, not a hair out of place. “I doubt he’d know what to do with a mechanical.”
I couldn’t argue with that logic. Ballinger dealt with flesh, not metal.
Neither of the brothers stepped a foot inside the room, whether from nervousness over being close to Buster’s transformation or genuinely trying to remain out of the way. Despite the stasis condition Buster was supposed to be in, new flesh on his chest surrounded the damaged gear. “I think we need Ballinger sooner. This skin wasn’t here before.”
“I’ll send a runner,” Thorne offered.
“You’re not going to do anything before Ballinger comes?” Oss asked.
“I didn’t say that. I just think we should have him here for the final stages. I want someone who knows biology to be around when I finish putting him back together. I don’t know how to stitch flesh. That’s not my expertise.”
Oss huffed but didn’t comment further. We both knew I was right.
“While we’re waiting for Ballinger, I will insert the new gear.” I set my bag on the floor and pulled out my tool kit. Stomach churning, I rolled open the leather bundle on the small table beside the bed.
“Don’t stress over this, Marbrey. If you can’t do it, no one can. I have complete confidence in your abilities.” Oss patted me on the back.
