:Peacock Feathers - Chapter 22:

Chapter 22

I remember being led away by the Clockwork creature who held my arms, but I was in so much shock, I didn't remember where exactly it took me.  The carriage rumbled over the streets of India and the farther we went from the air dock, the more hollow and numb I felt.  I didn't blame them for leaving to save me, but a part of me wished they hadn't.  

Warden Dempsey kept his cold eyes on me, they were gray, like Max's but not nearly as soothing and peaceful.  He had the same dark hair, but it was well cut and not tousled about.  I stared at his shoes as the carriage rumbled on.  The Clockwork creature keeping his tight hold on me the entire way.  Even if I could escape, it would rip my arm off.  I could see a bruise blossoming around the monstrosity's spindle-like hand.  The creature had the same build as a human, made of brass and knobs and valves so discreetly hidden by human flesh and clothing.  

“I do apologize for this.”  Dempsey said, he folded his hands in his lap.  Speaking to me as if he'd just insulted me verbally and not kidnapped me and took me away from my friends.  

“Like hell I'd forgive you.”  I spat, venom dripping from my voice and hatred deep in my chest.  It was a deep, black feeling.  Like falling in darkness and not being able to hold onto anything.  

“I thought you would say something like that.”  His mouth turned into a cruel smile.  “Of course you Brannigans were always filled with piss and vinegar.”  

I blinked up at him.  When I didn't off a reply, he continued.  “Oh I know who you are.  Elizabeth Brannigan – a London brat with no respect for authority.  Faking your own death to run away with air pirates.  I know all about you, my dear.  I know your penchant for luring respectable young men like my son to their demise outside of the law.”

“Max was on that ship before I got there.  Don't you dare blame me for that.”  I said, my brown eyes narrowed almost dangerously.  “Yes, I was immature and spiteful before I left London, and while I can't take back what I've done – I will live better than I ever would with that filth Danforth.”

“Well, you see, Danforth paid me well to make sure you never left India.”  Dempsey replied, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth.  “So it appears that you will be with that 'filth' until the day you die... which could be sooner – or later...”  

I felt a cloth press against my mouth and nose.  A smell, sickly sweet and over powering made it hard for me to breathe.  It was the Clockwork man, holding something against my face.  I reached up my free hand to try to pry it off, but the creature was too strong.  Darkness played at the edge of my vision and I fell into it.  

---

The first thing I felt was cold.  

I awoke groggily on a stone floor in a dark dungeon.  I wasn't sure where I was or how long I'd been out.  I lifted my hands and found them weighted down.  As I gained my composure and gathered my wits; I saw large iron manacles on my wrists, the chains were bolted into the floor.  I was behind thick iron bars, outside of my cell was a stone staircase lined with flickering gas lanterns.  

I eased myself up along the wall and leaned by back against it.  My hair was over one shoulder, braided.  I was sure I hadn't done it.  I wore a thin chemise that was tucked into to striped brown trousers and brown slippers on my feet.  

My head ached from the mixture I'd been knocked out with and my eyes were watery.  I rested my head against the cold stone wall and closed me eyes; letting out a sigh as a wave of nausea washed over me.  I held it down and just took deep breaths.  Chills ran through my body and I held myself, as if my arms would hold me together.

“I see my latest acquisition is awake.”

Said an all-too familiar voice.  The voice reverberated and made my head ache more.  I looked toward Nigel Danforth and he stood on the other side of my cage.  Smug looking with both hands folded over a fashionable cane.  His suit was well tailored and his hair neatly cut.  

Next to him stood Gideon, his son.  His hands crossed in front of him and his dark brown eyes distant and cold.  He looked at me and I saw something flash over his face.  Remorse?  Regret?  Or was I seeing something that wasn't there?

“Sorry about the headache, my dear.” Nigel continued.  “You can understand why I did it, don't you?  I didn't want you to see where you're going.  It's sort of a secret, this place.”  He leered at me, his eyes wandering over my body I felt sickened and exposed – even though I was fully clothed.

“In the few short months you've been away, it seems as though you've grown so much.”  He said wistfully, as if he was going through what he'd do to me.

“Father, now isn't the time.”  Gideon said quietly.  It seemed to knock Nigel out of his trance and he glanced at his son.  Clapping a hand on the young man's shoulder he said:

“Right!  Yes, dear boy.  You are right.”  He said, he looked back at me.  “There will be plenty of time for that later.  Make yourself at home, my dear, no one will be able to find you.”  Nigel turned on his heel and headed back up the stairs.  Gideon looked at me, almost sadly, then followed his father.