Chapter 14: The Devil’s Work


    "Hmm mmhm mmmm mhmhm…"


    Ingrid hummed, her symphony still alive inside her, each note rolling through her ribs, curling in her throat like the final tremor of pleasure. She breathed it in, the echoes of agony still throbbing beneath her skin, warm and sticky. Her fingers, still trembling from the aftershocks, curled over the damp fur draped over her naked body.


    The stone beneath her bare feet was cold, but not enough—nothing would be enough to cool the fire simmering inside her. It wasn’t just her music—it was His.


    And He would hear it soon.


    At the top of the stairwell, she tapped against the hidden door. A soft click answered, the wall shifting open. She stepped inside as a disciple entering a shrine.


    Then, she knelt.


    “Your grace?”


    Footsteps. Slow, deliberate.


    Ingrid remained still, head bowed deep, hands placed neatly in her lap. Waiting. The warmth still curled in her belly, but already, a chill had started to creep along her spine.


    The air shifted as he stopped before her.


    Dr. Ashbourne’s robes barely rustled, but she could feel the weight of his gaze. The mechanical whir of his eye ticked once, adjusting, studying her. The heat in her chest faltered, breath stilling in her throat.


    Then—his hand. Resting, firm, atop her head. The weight of ownership.


    “Did I interrupt you?”


    The question was calm, but not a question at all.


    Ingrid shivered, pressing her palms tighter to her lap.


    “Impossible."


    His fingers tightened. Just slightly.


    Her breath froze. Then, softer—his touch slid to her chin, lifting it just enough for her lips to part.


    Approval? Or judgment?


    She didn’t know.


    His green eye whirred, and for a moment, there was only silence.


    Then—


    “I think I may have misjudged something.”


    The warmth inside her died.


    Her stomach lurched before she even understood why. Her fingers twitched against the furs on her body, breath locking inside her throat like a caught note.


    She had done something wrong.


    Terror swelled before her mind could catch up.


    “Tell me what I can do. The doctor must not be burdened with doubt. He must be free to work God''s miracles.”


    His grip did not change.


    No reassurance. No warmth. Only the silence.


    “Where is Subject 231?”


    A shudder ran through her.


    “I—I...”


    Her voice cracked, her throat suddenly so dry she could barely force the words.


    “231—I am sure we will—”


    “Why are you playing with your instruments when you should be looking for him?”


    She could feel the blood drain from her face.


    “…Is it my fault, Ingrid? Have I failed you?”


    The words hit like a blade.


    “Never! It''s I who have failed you! I will focus all my attention—every ounce of my being—I will bring him back, I swear it!”


    Her breathing turned sharp, frantic. Her fingers burned from clutching too tight. The edges of her vision blurred.


    Dr. Ashbourne exhaled, finally, pressing a firm hand atop her bowed head.


    “Come.”


    His fingers curled tight against her skull.


    “Pray with me.”


    ----


    With a grunt, Edmond pushed the shop door open, and damn near choked as a thick cloud of black smoke came pouring out like it’d been trapped, begging for escape.


    "Maggie! It''s Edmond and Rufus. We need to talk."


    He called out, waving the smoke away as they stepped inside.


    A few coughs came from the back, followed by a sharp click. Then followed a loud rattle and a deep hum, and all that smoke started moving.


    Levi squinted up at the fan sucking the mess out, finally getting a good look at the place. His gaze dropped, landing on the one person still standing in the middle of it all. He blinked, then frowned.


    "That''s her?"


    He shot a look at Rufus, voice thick with doubt as he tossed the damn bearskin off his shoulders.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "This supposed to be my savior?"


    She was short, wiry, and covered head to toe in soot, like she’d crawled outta the guts of some steam engine. Her wild black hair was stuck up in places, half singed, still smoldering at the ends.


    A pair of brass goggles sat crooked on her forehead, lenses flecked with grease. Her sleeves were rolled up, showing off an arm that wasn''t flesh—blacksteel pistons and polished brass ran down to a clawed hand, still clenching a wrench like she’d been born holdin’ it.


    She was fussing with a strap on her coveralls, muttering curses under her breath as she dusted herself off. Then, with a sigh, she finally looked up—dark eyes, sharp and keen, taking stock of Rufus and Edmond.


    Maggie threw up her hands.


    "Already?! Mon Dieu! How can you be so rough with yourselves? I mean, I do not complain—work is work—but zis is ridiculous, no?"


    She shot a glare between the two men, already clearing off a cluttered workspace.


    "Which one? Which one of you fools needs the repair zis time?"


    Edmond shook his head, motioning toward Levi.


    "Not us. Kid’s the one needing help."


    Maggie’s brow creased, her gaze shifting to Levi. Her sharp eyes swept over him, taking in the way he stood, the way he carried himself—then they landed on the sliver of blacksteel peeking from his wrist.


    Her entire demeanor changed in a blink.


    With a burst of movement, she lunged forward, snatching his wrist like he was something rare and precious. Her fingers traced the cables along his wrist, her eyes gleaming with fascination.


    "Sacrebleu! You are a Waster!"


    Reaching toward the workbench, she flipped a hidden switch beneath it. A loud clunk sounded as the shop door slammed shut, heavy bolts sliding into place.


    "Show me. Vite! Do not tease! Show, show!"


    Levi barely had time to scowl at Edmond before the old man gave him a look—one that said just get it over with.


    Huffing out a breath, Levi yanked off his hat, then his gloves. His fingers hesitated at his buttons, his jaw tight. With a sharp exhale, he unfastened his shirt, letting it slip from his shoulders.


    The shift in Maggie was instant.


    Gone was the excitement, the childlike wonder. What replaced it was something heavier—something close to shame. Her lips pressed together, her gaze drawn to the raw, crisscrossed scars carved into his skin.


    The scars said plenty on their own. More than Levi ever would.


    Slowly, respectfully, she reached out, running a light hand over his shoulder. The hissing click of her goggles filled the quiet as the lenses whirred and adjusted, pulling her face in close to his augments.


    She murmured, barely above a whisper.


    "Mon pauvre gar?on... What have they done to you?"


    Levi ignored her question, settling on his own.


    “How’d you know I’m a Waster?”


    His eyes narrowed as she kept pawin’ at him. He leaned his head back, doing his best to keep from swatting her.


    “Pff, when I saw your wrist, I could tell immediately. Rien—nothing—comes from the Church unfinished.”


    “You could tell just from my wrist? Bullshit.”


    Still examining, she grabbed his wrist and raised it, her fingers tracing along the metal like she was reading a story written in steel.


    “Your workings are exposed. You lack any protective outer casing on your augments. No self-respecting artificer would let you leave ze Church looking like zat.”


    Levi clicked his tongue. He already knew what she meant, but hearing it out loud made it settle like a bad meal.


    The world had its differences—plenty of them. Even with the British Empire and the Church of the Vaporguard running the whole bloody show, every corner of the world still had its own ways.


    Out in the Far East, dynasties still ruled, holding onto their traditions. In Africa, the tribes still waged war, their pyramids and jungle cities vibrant with life that stretched back farther than history cared to write. In the new world, most of the frontier had been pacified by the Church’s iron grip, yet the land still bucked like an untamed horse.


    The world ran under different laws, different customs—but one thing held true no matter where you went.


    Augments belonged to the Church.


    No one, no matter how highborn or lowly, got Vaporguard tech without going through the right channels. The installing of augments? The Church controlled it. Pneuma Cores? Only the Church could handle those. Maintenance? Some outside shops were permitted, but every one of them had to be sanctioned, approved, and watched.


    So when someone walked around with half-finished augments, wires bare, work left undone—it only meant one thing.


    Waster.


    And to most folks, that word meant danger.


    "You are not even finished!"


    Maggie spat, rattling off a stream of curses in rapid-fire French.


    "Stitchers butcher the craft like—like—pah! I do not even ‘ave the words, but I despise them!"


    "They’re all prototypes."


    Rufus cut in, the unlit smoke bobbing in his mouth as he talked.


    "Our sniffer couldn’t make heads or tails of ‘em. Figured maybe yours could do better."


    He snapped his fingers, trying to spark a light.


    "No smoking!"


    A wrench shot past Rufus’s head, damn near skinning his scalp.


    "Devil woman! Tryin’ to kill me?!"


    Maggie was already on the move, stepping onto her worktable, eyes flicking across the mess of cables snaking through the ceiling. She bit her lip, scanned, then jumped.


    "Ah-ha! Got you!"


    Snagging a handful of cords, she landed with a thud, yanking them down.


    "My machine ‘as a bit more bite zan their sniffer. So if you need to pee, now’s ze time."


    "Just do it."


    "Très bien."


    She snapped the clamps on the end of the cords onto his arm, then strutted over to the wall. Levi’s eyes narrowed when he saw what she grabbed.


    A lever. Big as his damn chest.


    "Why the hell’s it so big?"


    "Are you ready, mon petit Waster?"


    Levi set his jaw, sitting himself down on a bench. He shook his head once.


    "Do it."


    Maggie yanked the lever.


    WHOMP.


    Levi''s body locked up like he''d been struck by lightning. His chest seized, his spine arched, and every inch of metal buried in him burned white-hot. The Pneuma Core inside him roared to life, blasting vapor through every limb, flooding augments that weren’t even awake yet.


    Rufus winced, looking away with a grimace. Edmond exhaled through his nose, jaw tight.


    Levi’s vision blacked, then flared. His nerves screamed. His teeth ground together so hard he thought they’d crack.


    Then—


    Ding!


    The machine clicked off. Levi slumped forward, gasping, steam hissing from his body like a busted boiler.


    Maggie was already moving. She stepped over, swiping tools and scrap off a worktable, revealing a clunky machine as it spit out a thin strip of paper. She grabbed the readout with steady fingers, eyes scanning.


    Wide-eyed, her body started to tremble.


    "Merde..."


    Her chest rose and fell in sharp, shallow gasps. Her eyes jumped between Edmond, Rufus, Levi—then up to the iron cross bolted to the wall, like it might hold some answer.


    "C’est impossible...Only the devil—"


    "Shit."


    Rufus flicked his smoke, stepping forward fast.


    "Hold on a minute, before you—"


    "His heart!"


    Maggie shrieked, her voice cracking with raw horror.


    "They replaced his heart?! Monstres! Inconceivable!"


    Levi felt the blood leave his body. The room lurched, and his limbs felt like they were filled with air.


    "My h—?"


    He tried to say it, but his mouth wasn''t working, his tongue thick as tar. The words stuck, lost somewhere between his lungs and his throat.


    His eyes snapped down to the cables still clamped to his arm. A jolt of panic lit up his spine, and he ripped them free, jumping to his feet so fast his knees near buckled.


    "Steady, kid—"


    Edmond’s stomach dropped. He’d seen men butchered, seen augments done in ways that’d make God look away. But this? This was something else.


    Edmond reached for him, but Levi moved like a kicked-up rattler.


    A wild kick—he barely dodged it.


    "Calm down!"


    Rufus lunged in, hands up, but he waited a hair too long. Levi’s elbow cracked against his nose.


    "Little sidewinder!"


    Rufus spat, shaking off the hit as both men grabbed hold, locking him down.


    His face was blank. No fire, no fear, just that hollow, vacant look. Levi fought ‘em like a machine, like his body was running on instinct alone.


    Maggie pressed herself to the wall, hands clamped over her mouth.


    His heart. They took his heart.


    The thought rattled through her, cold as grave dirt. She’d heard of limbs being swapped, eyes replaced, whole damn torsos reinforced, but—this—this was something else. This wasn’t survival. This wasn’t repair.


    ''What was he now?''


    Levi jerked, but Edmond and Rufus had him held fast. His breath came in short, wild bursts, his body shaking under their grip.


    Nobody spoke.


    The weight of it sat heavy in the air, like a storm rolling in slow and thick.


    And for the first time in a long, long while—Maggie felt afraid.