#steampunk magic

“Someone’s given ‘em a good wallop with somethin’.” Sixsmith was perched on the edge of the bed, gently pushing aside Nettles’ curls with one hand. As the tallest, Altan was by his side, holding the lantern with a shaking grip. “Somethin’ with an edge…”

“Like what?” Emmett asked. He was by the doorway, a book thick with notes still clutched in his hands.

Sixsmith shrugged. “Not sure. But they’re not dyin’ so’s you can sit down, Miss Starling.”

“Don’t want to,” Octavia snapped. Shaking her fist, she added, “I’m gonna kill them. I’m gonna find ‘em and kill ‘em.”

Nodding at Kizzy who was trying and failing to thread a needle, Sixsmith said, “They’ll be long gone by now. We dun’t even know where it happened. Make yourself useful and give me assistant a hand, would ya?”

Huffing furiously, Octavia slumped into the chair next to Kizzy who handed over the task immediately. It was difficult to do when your hands were quivering with rage.

Rubbing her face, Kizzy said, “D’you think someone figured Nx Nettles out? Did they see something, mebbe?” She looked over at Octavia and added, “Like, did they say anything?”

“Lantern. Lantern something.”

“Someone hit them with a lantern?” Emmett tilted his head and frowned.

“Well, that’d do it,” Sixsmith said, lifting Nettles’ eyelids in turn with his thumb. Nettles mumbled a bit and half-lifted a hand to stop him. Sixsmith murmured something soothingly in Taiyeku and then added in Suli, “Left a bit, darlin’, please.” Altan obliged, face blank and expressionless. “Good… pupils both the same size… re-actin’ well…”

“Lantern what?” Emmett asked.

Octavia tied the thread in a knot and passed the needle over to Sixsmith who motioned for her to put it on the cloth. Kizzy handed over the asepsis bowl, steam rising as Sixsmith took it gingerly. He got a second cloth and began to clean the wound, ignoring Nettles’ weak shifting.

Frowning, Octavia closed her eyes and tried to think. “I think they were trying to say M…”

Hide away, hide away, the Lantern Men are prowling…

She blinked, confused. Why had that come into her head? Where had she heard that recently? Was it in a book? Or on the street? Was that a music hall rhyme?

“Does Lantern Men mean anything to anyone?” she asked.

Sixsmith dropped the needle. “What?”

“You’ve heard of them?”

“’Course I’ve heard of the fuckin’ Lantern Men!”

“Wait a second,” Emmett put his book down and grabbed another from the shelf, “Aren’t they children’s tales? In the vein of Wind Goblins or – or the Silver Hands?” He flipped through the pages, “They’re boogiemen figures, correct?”

Altan looked over, chewing her lip, “Nettles told us, didn’t they, Tave? They were a… you know.”

“Cult thing,” Octavia’s gaze flickered back to Sixsmith’s bloodless face. “They said they were made up to stop kids from wandering off into town at night. Away from the –“ she made the quotation marks with her fingers – “‘Family’. They’re children’s tales.”

“No,” Sixsmith shuddered, “They’re not.”

“What?”

“They all wear dark jackets, buttoned to the chin/With yellow smiles, yellow eyes, and sallow, sunken skin,” Kizzy chanted. She put her hands on her hips. “They don’t sound real to me with yellow eyes.”

Sixsmith shook his head. His voice was faint. “No, they’re real. But real like…” he squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was obviously struggling with the words. “Real like… like if a kid sees somethin’ bad. A person gettin’ – gettin’ knifed or somethin’. A kid – a kid might, I dunno, say later the – the attacker had claws or somethin’. Well… the Lantern Men are meta-whatsits. For…” he spat the words, “Purity patrols. Or whatever you want to call ‘em. The bastards who walk ‘round at night huntin’… well… us.”

Emmett’s eyes suddenly lit up. “They’re traumatic cultural memories!” he exclaimed, “Exactly like the Silver Hands except we’ve got a source for the myth! A monster to warn kids to not go out at night.”

“To warn Taiyeks,” Sixsmith corrected him grimly. “I think we spread the myth with us.”

An uneasy hush fell over the room. No one moved. Octavia’s gaze locked with Altan’s, silent understanding passing between them. Being a reporter was dangerous – but this was something bigger and darker than all that. Their partner – perhaps – was being targeted not for something they’d done (understandable that, Octavia felt that she wasn’t doing her job properly if someone wasn’t out to get her), but for something they were.

Guilt stirred in her stomach, her own words coming back to her.

They’re Taiyeks, she’d said, they’ve probably just got wanderlust…

Thank fuck Nettles hadn’t heard that.

Nettles suddenly groaned, shattering the mood. They started to sit up, shaking their head drunkenly, when Sixsmith put a firm hand on their chest.

“Nope, darlin’, you’re stayin’ in bed.”

“Room’s spinning.”

“Well, it’ll stop if you just –“

With surprising adroitness, Nettles twisted to the side and then threw up over the side of the bed.

The reek of vomit sent everyone save Sixsmith reeling backwards, all protesting loudly. There were a few giggles – shrill and not quite right – born of anxious bemusement.

“Nettles –“

“Argh – that’s disgusting!”

“At least you missed the sheets, love –“

Sixsmith leant forwards, completely unperturbed, and ruffled Nettles’ curls. “Better out than in, eh?”

“I hate you.”

“You’re in good comp’ny, darlin’.”

Altan swallowed and stepped back into place, face wrinkled against the smell. Awkwardly, she sat down on the other side to Nettles and helped them lie back down. Stroking the side of their face, she murmured, “How are you feeling, Nettles?”

“Like some fucker’s whacked me in the head.”

“Well,” Octavia started, trying to stifle a giggle, “that’s not too far off.”

“Oh.” Nettles’ eyes closed again. “Sorry about the floor.”

“No harm done,” Altan said.

Kizzy reached over and grabbed the lantern. “Where’s the needle? You still gotta sew up their head – urgh, yuk!”

“Get us another one then, darlin’,” Sixsmith said evenly.

Kizzy nodded and ran from the room.

“I’ll warm up the asepsis bowl,” Emmett volunteered.

Octavia eyed him wearily. “Does that mean I’m stuck with the sick?”

Emmett grimaced at her apologetically, gaze - as usual - not meeting hers.

Sighing heavily, Octavia got up to find some towels and more hot water.