The Slayer
“I admire a well-crafted invention. It’s a brilliant piece of work.”
    â€œYou want to look it over?”
    Lady Drossenburg glanced at him through the dark fan of her lashes. “Yes.”
    He walked with her through the maze of halls and staircases back down into the bowels of the ship. In the half-light thrown by the lantern, Tempus appeared out of the gloom, his black-and-white cowhide making him look more like a real animal than a machine. Winn carefully pulled back the cargo netting enough that he could unlace the cowhide cover and get to the panel in Tempus’s side. He wasn’t as familiar with the machine as his brother Colt. Living horses were more his thing.
    â€œThere’s a button here somewhere Marley uses to open Tempus up.”
    The contessa bent double, her fingers sliding slowly and gently across the copper skin that formed the outer layer of the clockwork horse. “Here. There’s a slight ridge to it.” She pressed the small square indentation. With a click, the hatch to the undercarriage of Tempus opened.
    She hunkered down, practically crouching beneath the horse, heedless of the dust and grime on the floor, and held the lantern closer, then gasped. Winn noticed that glint in her eye that Marley often got when talking about his creations. “This is absolutely marvelous,” she whispered. “Look at how he’s enabled the gears to shift. That’s ingenious.”
    He’d never seen a vampire like this before—one so absorbed in the moment that she forgot herself and seemed almost human. “This is one of his better inventions.”
    The contessa spared him a brief glance. “You are very lucky, you know. There are many who would love to have Sir Turlock’s genius at their beck and call.”
    â€œOh, I wouldn’t say he’s a servant or anything. He’s more a partner. And, well, sometimes, we’re the lab rats. Especially when he’s got something new he wants to try out and hasn’t got the quirks worked out of it yet.”
    â€œThen you’re even luckier.” Lady Drossenburg straightened, dusting off her skirts and smoothing out the rumples. “Thank you for letting me look at this.”
    Winn simply nodded. He hadn’t done anything except walk down with her and unlace the covering on his brother’s horse. What she admired was all Marley’s doing, not his.
    There actually hadn’t been much that he’d done that could be admired. He put everything back the way it had been, then resecured the cargo netting. They walked back in a companionable silence through the ship to the observation deck. Winn just figured she was busy mulling over what she’d seen.
    The airship rocked slightly, pushed by a great gust of wind, forcing Winchester to steady himself. He gripped the rail, looking out across the desert. A dark, thick cloud of dust was billowing, growing taller as the wind whipped up the dry, loose soil. “Dust storm is coming,” he said, pointing to it. “Sometimes they blow in on the front edge of a monsoon.”
    The contessa looked at it with interest. “I’ve never seen such a thing.”
    Particles began to fill the air, and Winn was even more grateful for the goggles as the grit abraded his skin. The thick, swirling cloud grew taller, approaching like a brown wall across the desert. “Sure that stuff ain’t gonna clog up the engines?” Winn shouted over the rising rush of wind.
    She frowned, not at all pleased by the thought, and materialized her own pair of goggles, slipping them over her head. “It might. We’ve never flown through a dust storm before, or a monsoon.”
    â€œWe’d better get inside. Now.” The tone of his voice left no doubt this was something serious.
    They dashed into the safety of the gondola to escape the wind tearing at their clothes. Through the windows, the approaching brown wall, rising well

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