Page 51 of The Mech Who Loved Me
Thirteen
"HERE WE ARE,"Kincaid said, pulling to the curb and thrusting one foot out tosteadythem.
Ava clung to him tightly, squeezing her eyes shut behind the goggles he'd provided her with. He'd insisted they ride his velococycle, a three-wheeled contraption one sat upon, which was going to be the most popular vehicle in London, he'd assured her. She sat sideways on the seat behind him, her breasts crushed to his back, and the throb of the growling steam engine in the velococycle quivering beneath her like some maddenedbeast.
Ava scrambled off the velococycle, clutching at a lamppost. "My God." Solid ground. She wanted tokissit.
Kincaid shoved his goggles up on top of his head, scruffing up his black hair. He laughed at her as he tugged his leather riding gloves off, looking younger than she'd ever seen him. "Anyone would think you didn'ttrustme."
"It's not you I don't trust." She pointed at the velococycle's shiny black painted body. "There's a reason we ride in carriages. Because they are safe, and slow, and nobody is hurtled to a fiery death on the cobbles, which are barelyinchesbeneath your feet, might Ipointout—"
"Ava." He slid off the velococycle, the flaps of his long leather coat slapping against the backs of his thighs as he captured her upper arms in his hands. "Breathe. I would never put you at risk. I'm an expert driver. I helped build the bloody machine after all, and was on the enclave team that came up with the concept. Surely it was just a little bitenjoyable?"
She stared up at him. Now she had her feet under her again, she felt infinitely better. She'd pinned the enormous mass of her hair back tightly, but loose curls escaped it, and if she were being honest, she couldn't deny there'd been a slight thrill. "Just thelittlestbit."
Their eyes met, and then Kincaid's smile grew. "Spread yourwings,Ava."
"But," she said, stepping away from him and smoothing her skirts as she set eyes on Winthrop's Emporium, "I still might walk home, thank you very much. Now let’s go find my caterpillarmushroom."
Ava pushed open the door to the shop, the bell over it ringing as she entered. Kincaid's body was a warm presence atherback.
"Hello?" she called. "Is thereanybodyhere?"
The small store smelled musty. Books lined the walls in mahogany shelves that groaned under their weight. Maps of the globe splayed over the bare inches of actual wall that remained, highlighting exotic countries with names like Afghanistan, and Nepal, and Bhutan. Little baskets of herbs sat on every flat surface, some bundled up into little sacks, and others spilling from the baskets. Incense burned, and the smoke hovered just below the stained ceiling like some watchfulcloud.
Movement drew her attention to the back. A handsome gentleman appeared, wiping his hands on a clean rag, his mustache neatly trimmed in an almost militaristic style, and his boots polished within an inch of their life. He was a big man with proud bearing, but she couldn't help thinking beside Kincaid, he seemed... small. "Ah, what prosperous day brings such a lovely young flower into mymidst?"
He was talking to her. "Good afternoon," she replied, taking a moment to gather herself. "My name is Miss Ava McLaren, and thisismy—"
"Fiancé," Kincaid interrupted, taking her hand and resting it on the crook of his arm with a painted-on smile. "LiamKincaid."
Ava didn't quite look at him, though her lips twitched.Fiancé?What the devil was heabout?
The stranger eyed them both for a second, and then gave her a broad smile. "Of course. You're a lucky man, Mr. Kincaid. I'm Major Tom Winthrop, formerly of the East IndiaCompany."
The pair of them shook hands, and Winthrop's gaze dropped to Kincaid's mech hand, though he didn't say anything. A company man, one who'd left London during the prince consort's reign, no doubt, when mechs were deemed less than human, and akin to the dirt beneath a blueblood'sheel.
Ava bristled in Kincaid's defense, but kept all trace of it out of her voice. "You've travelled through theOrient?"
Winthrop's smile widened, and he showed them the maps pinned to his walls. "Widely. I spent a great deal of time investigating opportunities for the Company in Lhasa, until things turned a little... well, frankly, it was a bit of a hotspot of political interest with the Emirate of Afghanistan sniffing at the door, and the bloody Russo's looking on hungrily, not to mention the White Court of China. After I left the Company, I guided an exhibition for the Duke of Vickers, which searched for the hidden city ofShambhala."
"Shambhala?"
"A hidden land," Winthrop breathed, and she realized he was a natural storyteller, light gleaming in his eyes as if he could see such a thing himself, spread before him. "They say there is a hiddenbeyul—or valley—hidden high in the Kunlun Mountains, ruled by a mysterious people who are not entirely human. The Land of the Living Gods." Winthrop smiled down at her, his voice taking on a lilting quality. "The people there are almost immortal, and age very slowly, almost not at all, it seems. And they have pale, pale skins, though they worship the sun-chariot."
"Pale skins?"Andimmortal?
Winthrop's smile widened, his mustache twitching. "They say it's the birthplace of the cravingvirus."
How fascinating. "I thought the birthplace of the craving virus was in the lands of the WhiteCourt?"
"Technically, Tibet has been claimed by them, yes." Winthrop waved a dismissive hand, leaning toward her. "Hundreds of years ago a traveler allegedly found Shambhala and returned to the White Court with the craving. The rulers of the White Court insisted he share this 'gift' of immortality with them, and then they cut off his head so they alone became gods. Only a member of the Imperial family can be giventhegift."
"Sounds rather like the aristocratic Echelon," she replied, "and the Blood Rites. Why is it nobles always seek to control such athing?"
"Power," Winthrop said, ghosting through the bookcases and luring her back into the shadowy bookshelves. "Money. Might. The craving virus makes one faster and stronger, and almost impervious to death. What ruler doesn't want to be semi-immortal?"
"All very interesting," Kincaid drawled, "but we're here searching for a mysterious book, aren't we, Ava darling? Or do you want to hear tales of a mythic city, and the origins of the cravingvirus?"
