The Clockwork Golem

By LeAnna Shields

Sarah Freedman's life threatens to tear apart as she tries to live in different worlds: as Osyka, Chocktaw orphan whose clan was destroyed by the alien Rex invaders; as Doctor Freedman; Professor of Botany and as creator of the sought-after fragrances of Osyka Botanicals. By far her most dangerous identity is the Suffragette, a spy who must be stopped at any cost. Can Sara work with the Rex government’s ultimate weapon? Will three words be enough to turn a distrusted enemy into a most trusted ally?

Ethan lives his life in a skin of steel and bronze. His life force fuels the Rex’s most powerful weapon. He could live forever, but at what cost? When he crosses paths with the most wanted woman in the empire, will duty or heart prevail?

• Language: English
• Publisher: LeAnna Shields
• Release date: Nov 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502264978

Book preview

Chapter 1

The secret of scent

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I’m late! I’m late! Ten minutes past the hour on October 25, 1883 and I still needed to count the till and open the doors for business. Any minute my customers would be tapping on the glass, wanting their wares.

My botanicals shop stood on the corner of Blake Street and 24th. Painted gold lettering on the window advertised Oil-based Perfumes and Blended Botanical Ointments. The window gleamed with dozens of polished clear and colored glass bottles on silver trays and raised pedestals. Inside the shop stood rows of shelves and displays filled with a dizzying array of bottles and atomizers in many mediums, from simple glass to ebony wood or rose quartz. I also carried porcelain bottles with jewel-toned glass stoppers and atomizers made of hammered brass with leather bulbs. In a locked display case were the more valuable examples: bottles made of silver or gold inlaid with semiprecious stones along with my designer name glassware. I had saved for months to get my brass cash register and the tiny amber glass sample bottles. They sat on my sales counter across from the main display. Behind it stood an Apothecary’s chest. I had been lucky that the previous owner had purchased such a nice one. It had eighteen drawers divided into three sets of six. They were labeled base notes, middle notes, and top notes. Ajahd, my teacher, had explained that base note scents lingered on the skin the longest and were usually a musk or vanilla smell. The middle notes fade sooner and the top could be the floral fragrances that faded the fastest.

This was the sight that greeted me every morning as I opened up for business. I scanned it lovingly one more time as I unlocked the door. It had taken me quite a while to save up for the place while I completed my apprenticeship with Ajahd, a perfumer in Persia. I was glad to come back to the Americas. St. Charles, the capital of the Jefferson territory, was a booming city nested near the base of the Rocky Mountains. At its highest point St. Charles was a mile above sea level, where the state capital stood.

I was polishing the mahogany and brass fittings on the register when the bell above the door chimed. Looking up, the first thing I saw enter was an ostentatious blue hat followed by its owner; a sturdy woman standing five foot and a bit with slightly graying black hair. She had a well-known reputation in St. Charles society.

Good afternoon, Mrs. Brown, I called trying not to flinch as the wide brim of her hat nearly knocked down a rare glass bottle from the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

Hello, Sara, She replied, using my Anglicized name. Is my perfume ready?

It certainly is. Reaching below the counter, I found the box. I added a little hint of cinnamon to give it a nice spicy scent. I think it will remind you of your recent voyage to Turkey.

Wonderful, Mrs. Brown replied as she started to fish the coins from her change purse. 

I was ringing up the sale when the bell chimed again. Looking up briefly, I watched as yet another grandiose hat over-burdened with plumage and ribbons entered. One of these days I hope those hats go out of style.

The woman who followed the hat surprised me by being on the smallish side of five feet.

Mrs. Frederici. Welcome, I didn’t expect you in town so soon. How are things with the Wild West Show?

Hello, Sara. Buffalo Bill is complaining louder than ever so things are going quite well. I trust my order came in?

Yes it did. Extracting a cobalt-blue bottle with a framed cameo on it, I lowered my voice, I even added some mystery just like you requested. I gave the cameo a clandestine tap, hoping that she had noticed. 

Mrs. Frederici handed me forty cents for her purchase and left. I have to admit those hats are convenient for my cleaning schedule. Mrs. Frederici’s hat dusted an entire shelf in one pass.

Mrs. Brown handed me the thirty cents as she said, Do you know if your sister has my new dress ready?

I hit a button on the wall intercom that connected to my sister’s dress shop on the second floor. She, like me, used her Anglicized name.

Julia, Mrs. Brown is here and she wants to know if her dress is ready?

Her voice came back. Send her up, and I’ll see if I need to make any adjustments.

I turned and smiled. She says go on up. 

Mrs. Brown nodded. She walked to the back of the store and up the stairs to my sister’s studio. 

I was about to put the coins into the register when I noticed a note adhered to one of them. Suffragette, meet me at Bent’s Fort.

Seeing that no one was around I swallowed the small note, making it look like a yawn. I couldn’t help but wonder who it was that wanted to meet me. Mrs. Brown wasn’t one to go out of her way to meet with the other crew members of The Rose. They usually came to her. 

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I watched as the street lamps outside came on with the setting of the sun, signifying the end of another work day, though not the end of mine. I climbed the steps at the far end of my shop to the second floor landing. To my right was the door leading to my sister’s dress shop and to the left were the stairs that led to my apartment. In front of me was a single old gaslight that I had converted to electricity. Grabbing the base of the lamp, I turned it until I heard the soft click of the latch, revealing another flight of stairs leading down to my secret studio. Walking down the stairs, I heard the beat of my friend Aggie’s favorite music from a Victrola phonograph bouncing up at me. I laughed as I pictured her sitting at the lab table, her oversized reptilian frame folded in half as she studiously mixed the chemical fog that would go into my arachno obscura. All the while the tip of her long, emerald-green tail would be tapping back and forth in time to the upbeat ragtime music. She was a member of the Hadron race that had decided to side with the west when her leaders began conquering Earth around the time of the conflict with the south.

Hurrying behind my dressing screen, I grabbed a corset that I had my sister make me. It was red silk brocade, lined with lightweight aether-infused steel, something that proved handy for my life as The Suffragette. Reaching the point where I wanted an extra set of hands, I called, Aggie, could you help me out?

Coming, Osyka. Aggie was the only one other than my siblings who used my Choctaw name.

Peeking out through a small cut out in the screen I watched as Aggie put her work off to the side and headed over to where I was. She finished tightening my corset over a loose white shirt I had thrown on. I turned to face her, she stood about six feet at the crown of her head ridge. Her face was covered in emerald-green scales except for around her bill-shaped mouth and nose, which were a softer jade green. She had found my brother, sister, and I when we were little. We were the last survivors of a Choctaw village that had been attacked by the Rex and their Golem army. In the twenty-plus years I had known her, she had never seemed to age.

After putting on my calf-high boots and tool belt I hurried up to the roof, mounted my skycycle, and headed off into the night. The skycycle was one of the best inventions Aggie had ever come up with. It was a small vehicle with a platform just wide enough for me to kneel on and a small ultrasteam engine. As I flew through the night sky, I wondered who my mysterious contact would be.

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Arriving at Bent’s Fort ahead of my contact, I looked out over the open plains bathed in the soft light of dawn. The vast expanse of wild grass was only interrupted by the suspended railway that ran throughout Jefferson. I heard voices in the distance. Looking through my spyglass ring I saw several Arapaho warriors stalking through the tall grass. I reached into a pouch on my belt and pulled out four small brass marbles, running my spinner ring over them to wind up the arachno obscura. Legs sprang from within and the bodies took on the form of tiny spiders, each holding enough of my chemical blend to create an artificial fog. 

The four metal spiders scurried down the wall and into the long grass of the plains. I soon heard tiny pops as the spiders detonated, allowing the chemicals to mix. A thick grey mist shrouded the valley.

With a smile I turned and jumped down into a haystack. From there I hurried into the small saloon. Elbowing my way past the typical trappers, Indians, and travelers, I found my way to the bar and ordered a drink. Using the mirror behind the bar, I scanned the faces of the other patrons, looking for my contact.

You sure know how to ruin a man’s fun, said a voice from the shadows behind me.

I didn’t need to see who the voice belonged to. There was only one person in the pirate band, other than me, that lived up to his moniker. Hello, Road Ranger. I got your message.

I have news from the top. The Key Cylinder was stolen from the president’s mansion.

I must have looked like a beached fish because the next thing I heard him say was, Did you hear me?

I heard you. I just can’t believe it. The key cylinder was the only cypher, and list, of pirate bands and their operatives, including The Rose’s crew, with whom I worked. That kind of information in the wrong hands could spell disaster for all of us. I couldn’t help but think how bad this was about to get.

How could this happen? The president’s mansion is the most secure building this side of the Mississippi? It’s been that way since the war started two years ago.

We think it was an inside job.

Of course it was. Any clues as to who the thief is or where he is headed?

We think she’s going to auction off the cylinder to the highest bidder. That's why I'm here, Suffragette, he said turning to face me. You can’t betray your people like this. You know you hold the lives of hundreds of operating agents, including your own, in your hands.

I shook my head in disbelief. What are you talking about?

All the evidence points to you. I came to talk some sense into you. Why would you betray your own?

I never would, and you know that. I couldn't have stolen the cylinder. I've been here in Jefferson for the past month.

That said, I walked out of the saloon, knelt down on the deck of my skyscycle, squeezed the ignition, and took off. The night air was cold, but even that couldn’t distract me. How could he have accused me of such an act of treason? Did he think because I was born in the state of Sequoyah that I would betray the pirates that raised me? I certainly wouldn’t endanger my own life doing something as foolhardy as trying to break into the president’s manor. 

Arriving back home, I landed in my rooftop garden and went down to my apartment but couldn’t sleep.

Chapter 2:

Mission assigned

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Morning came too soon for my liking. It felt like I had just fallen asleep when my alarm clock began its obnoxious reveille. After washing up at the basin in my room I got dressed and headed to the kitchen for breakfast. Stopping at a hallway mirror, I fastened my favorite cameo to the bottom of the high lace collar of my day dress. Out of habit I looked at my surroundings in the mirror’s reflection. The apartment was decorated in the simple Arts and Crafts Style. Clean, elegant lines that sharply contrasted the Art Nouveau opulence of my shop downstairs. Square milky glass shades covered the lights on my gas chandelier, which I had recently converted to electricity. I was about to leave when I saw a shadow move out of the corner of my eye. I braced myself as I felt someone grab my arm and try to throw me to the ground. Curse these long narrow skirts.