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    Blood Worms: Clockwork Rift, #1
    Blood Worms: Clockwork Rift, #1
    Blood Worms: Clockwork Rift, #1
    Ebook237 pages3 hours

    Blood Worms: Clockwork Rift, #1

    By Meyari McFarland

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    About this ebook

    Esme covered her mouth and nose before sucking in a deep breath.

    The kill room stank of death. Odd thing was the skull, hole punched through the top. Question was who'd done it and if there was money to be made turning them in.

    Getting intel led Esme from the sewers and right up to the Clockwork Rift that led to Earth.

    Intel that threatened not just her life but the lives of the entire human race.

    Blood Worms is a Steampunk mystery where everyone can turn against you and the only think keeping you alive is your good weapon… and your lover at your back. You're sure to enjoy this thrilling mystery.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMeyari McFarland
    Release dateMar 22, 2018
    ISBN9781386530220
    Blood Worms: Clockwork Rift, #1
    Author

    Meyari McFarland

    Meyari McFarland has been telling stories since she was a small child. Her stories range from SF and Fantasy adventures to Romances but they always feature strong characters who do what they think is right no matter what gets in their way. Her series range from Space Opera Romance in the Drath series to Epic Fantasy in the Mages of Tindiere world. Other series include Matriarchies of Muirin, the Clockwork Rift Steampunk mysteries, and the Tales of Unification urban fantasy stories, plus many more. You can find all of her work on MDR Publishing's website at www.MDR-Publishing.com.

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      Book preview

      Blood Worms - Meyari McFarland

      Blood Worms

      Other Books By Meyari McFarland

      Day Hunt on the Final Oblivion

      Day of Joy

      Immortal Sky

      A New Path

      Following the Trail

      Crafting Home

      Finding a Way

      Go Between

      Like Arrows of Fate

      Out of Disaster

      The Shores of Twilight Bay

      Coming Together

      Following the Beacon

      The Solace of Her Clan

      You can find these and many other books at www.MDR-Publishing.com. We are a small independent publisher focusing on LGBT content. Please sign up for our mailing list to get regular updates on the latest preorders and new releases and a free ebook!

      Blood Worms

      A Clockwork Rift Steampunk Mystery

      Meyari McFarland

      MDR Publishing

      Copyright ©2015 by Mary Raichle

      Cover image © Saniphoto | Dreamstime.com - Steampunk Background Photo

      © Innovari | Dreamstime.com - Steampunk Pirate Photo

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

      Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be emailed to me_ya_ri@yahoo.com

      This book is also available in TPB format from all major retailers.

      Created with Vellum Created with Vellum

      This collection is dedicated to Phil and Kaja Folio for their wonderful creation, Girl Genius. I would never have started or finished this book without the inspiration of their story.

      Contents

      1. Kill Room

      2. Skywinder

      3. Sewage Plant

      4. Below

      5. Victoria Block

      6. Octopus Delicacies

      7. Cloud Block

      8. Bathtub

      9. Dockside

      10. The Riot

      11. Noor's Office

      12. Taylor's Nest

      13. Chancellor's Office

      14. Clockwork Rift

      15. Shaft Below

      16. Exploding Office

      17. Dock Pub

      18. Ancient Wisdom

      19. Flyer Crash

      20. Flywheel Casing

      21. Control Panel

      22. Final Battle

      23. Rift Wash

      24. Postscript: Noor's Office

      Author Bio

      Other Books by Meyari McFarland:

      Author’s Note: Running From The Immortals

      1. Escape

      2: Sudden Rain

      3. Flight

      Afterword

      Author Bio

      1. Kill Room

      Esme covered her mouth and nose before sucking in a deep breath. Her leather glove stank of oil and that grease from the skywinder that she'd worked on last week but it was better than the stench in the air. Blood, long congealed and gone crusty brown, mixed with the sort of rot that came from entrails strewn about, split open so the crap covered everything. A right mess, this one, and her without a proper breathing mask.

      Not that a proper breathing mask would help here, inside, with air better than eight-seven percent pure. So glove it was even though Esme needed to replace hers right quick if she touched anything. Better to report back to her official boss, Noor Crespo, that it was a dead body and leave it at that. Solving deaths wasn't Esme's look-out.

      Still, good to know things, now wasn't it? Never knew when a bit of tell turned out useful.

      Room was small, a bare four feet by nine. Bed was a hammock strung up high near the ten-foot ceiling. Rare to find a room with a ceiling that high in the old ancient ruins the city had appropriated as homes so Esme scanned the wall about half way up. Yeah, there it was, the line of pick ax marks where someone had cut out the floor and doubled the height. Good idea if risky. Walls were usually unstable if too much floor was removed but hey, in this area people expected the bricks to wobble a bit. Or a lot.

      Floor was bloody, nasty with not just entrails but also grime. Food, tossed to the floor and left to rot, mixed with greasy footprints, discarded clothes that were so filthy-muddy that they could never be cleaned. Something that looked like a child's stuffed rabbit lurked in one corner, 'cept it was smaller, rounder.

      Took Esme a moment to realize that she'd found the head of the victim, flesh already decaying away, mop of hair hiding the white bone underneath. She peered, leaning closer but not stepping on that nasty floor. Not white bone. The skull was brown like weak tea, marked in spots by darker, meatier texture.

      Sewer worker, then. Interesting. No one messed with the sewer workers. Tougher lot she'd never known and not one that she'd want to tangle with, orders or no orders. She'd lied her way out of fights with them before but this place promised a beating or a killing to those who knew too much. Both from the sewer workers, they loved their secrets, and from the killer, whoever that was. Time to run, run or lie to whoever they encountered about how far into the block they'd gotten in search of the stink.

      Which, of course, meant that any time now she'd be interrupted and probably beaten for daring to set foot in the killer's territory. Or by the sewer workers searching for their lost compatriot. They grouped together but most often they were neat, cleaner than most that lived in the city. This filth didn't fit at all with a sewer worker's home.

      It was more like what she'd expect from a speculator, one of those fools that came through the rift from Earth with nothing but dreams and a tool belt minus the tools. Never met one that had a lick of sense and Esme was certain she never would. Worst ones were the ones who brought their frippery, satin and lace and velvet so fine it felt like seal fur. Watching them slowly wind down, grime building on their clothes, faces, hands, was laughable and sad at the same time. Only a handful ever learned to ask, learned how to survive on this side of the Rift. Didn't know any that gathered the money to pay their way back home.

      Trouble, Chinwendu called, breathless and fearful, from the tight stairwell three yards back.

      Sewer workers? Esme asked. She pushed the door shut, heading for the stairs.

      No, speculators, pack of them, Chinwendu replied and yeah, time to go.

      She hurried down the stairs, grabbed Chinwendu's burly arm, and hauled her away from the stairwell. The smell was distant, a faint taste of rot on the back of the throat that made you want to cough again and again, but it was still there. Whole reason they were here, carrying out Noor Crespo's testy orders to find the stink and remove it.

      He wouldn't be happy to find that someone had murdered a sewer worker and left their skull on the floor of the dank little room. Wouldn't be happy to see Esme and Chinwendu. Wouldn't be happy to see them go, either. Man hadn't been happy in all the years Esme had known him. She didn't think he could feel happiness. Or joy, pleasure, hunger, fear. Definitely not sadness, regret.

      They're following us, Chinwendu hissed. Her goggles whirred and clicked as Chinwendu tapped a stud on the side shaped like a 'pus, tentacles reaching out to grip the side of the stud. No knives. All guns, little ammo. They're hungry, empty bellies. Talking about finding someone to eat. One? Esme, why someone?

      You sure about that? Esme asked and yeah, she stared at Chinwendu's lips because her heart pounded so hard that the blood drowned out what Emse could hear of Chinwendu's voice.

      Chinwendu nodded, mouthed 'yeah', and licked her lips. Goggles hid her eyes but the posture said fear, wide eyes and trembling fingers even if Chinwendu's fingers hadn't trembled for real in all the years Esme had known her. Wouldn't think someone as big as Chinwendu would be afraid but she lived her life in a pit of anxiety and nothing much ever broke it but a fight.

      You got ammo? Esme asked even though it was a stupid question, speculator question.

      Another nod, a pack offered to Esme that she took and fitted into her little needle-sharp gun. Then they placed themselves where they had clear shots up the dark hallway but at least minimal cover around corners worn by the passage of eons without people of any kind, human or alien.

      The speculators were old ones, the kind worn down to hungry viciousness with bedraggled velvet covering their raw bone and pale flesh. Three men, one woman whose flounced, heavily draped skirt had once been the height of fashion 'bout twenty years ago on another world. Now it was ragged edged and, Esme was pretty sure, blood-soaked all over the right half. The men were nicer, a hair cleaner, though their beards were ragged imitations of the trimmed and waxed glories they must have been once upon a time when they were fresh through the Rift.

      What you want? Esme called as soon as the woman was square in the hallway. That was the leader sure as Esme was short and Chinwendu was tall.

      The woman smiled and yeah, they were bad ones. Her teeth were sharp, filed to points. Not good. Last thing Esme wanted was to tangle with speculators that'd gone to the Ancient Worship side of insanity. Esme primed her gun, the whine of the tiny engine loud in the hallway, as the woman raised a languid hand. No, not going to direct her bucks to kill them. Not going to happen, bitch.

      This is our home, the woman said, chin up and eyes haughty as if she wasn't coated with grime, blood and grease. You don't belong here.

      Belongs to Noor Crespo and we work for him, Esme countered. Chinwendu primed her weapon, big heavy shotgun that could blast out a wall and then dent the far side of a ballroom if she wanted it to. Something stinks. Think it's you. Be getting your asses outta here or there be blood on the floors.

      The woman snarled and yeah, she really was that dumb. She pointed and the three bucks charged at Esme and Chinwendu, guns pulling free of cheap holsters way too late to do them any good. Esme shot once, hit the woman in the center of the forehead. Blood splattered the wall behind her. Another stink to clean up. Chinwendu shot once, too, but her shot took out two shoulders, left and right respectively, popped a hole straight through one chest and then continued onwards to chop the woman in half and leave a nice dent in the wall that nothing was going to fix.

      Hate speculators, Esme grumbled as she went to check the bodies. Damn worthless, the lot of them.

      Coins, too damn few. Ammo, practically none. Not a single knife on any of the four of them and Esme knew she'd throw the damn gloves away rather than keep them now. Bodies stank just like the little room so yeah, she had her culprits.

      What do we tell Noor? Chinwendu asked, shifting foot to foot back by their hiding spot.

      Chop the heads off, Esme ordered. Well take those in. The teeth tell the story well enough. We'll tip some scavengers off to come get the rest on our way out. Tell 'em about the room, too. They'll strip it all clean and we'll have done our job.

      She pushed the woman's lower half over, avoiding the slop of sluggish blood. Then Esme paused. String around the woman's waist, actual string and clean, too. Esme tugged it and a key came up out of the noxious depths between the woman's legs.

      New key, shiny brass with three teeth narrow as knife edges. Small, too, barely bigger than Chinwendu's thumb. Not something a speculator would ever have. And not something Esme intended to share with anyone else. String snapped easy. Chinwendu cocked her head but didn't ask what it was, didn't comment when Esme tucked the key away in a pocket.

      2. Skywinder

      Streets between the kill room and Noor's base were busy. No surprise. Middle of the day, suns out and steam rising from every machine, building and hack around them. Getting out of the stink-filled block was a relief. Esme gulped air and then got back to work. Too many people on the streets at this level for her to pause, especially given the number of clockwork automatons and steam-driven block-walkers moving through the street.

      Most people had nothing to worry about with automatons. They were programmed not to harm humans. Unfortunately for Esme, they weren't very good at thinking quickly and Esme's size mixed with her maturity always seemed to confuse them. She did her best to avoid the things. Safer for everyone involved, human and not. But at Esme's level it was a mass of legs, wheels and blasts of steam obscuring threats that might come her way, whether intentional or not.

      Figured that Chinwendu would scoop Esme up, perch her on Chinwendu's shoulder. Grip around her knees kept Esme from sliding right back down but hey, least this way she didn't have to worry about someone kicking her in the head on accident. Or on purpose. It had happened more than once when Esme's questions cut too deep and her notebooks seemed like cash-money to some fool who didn't realize the real tell was all in Esme's head, not on the pages.

      Up high, head standing at near ten foot instead of barely four, Esme looked around to see if anyone had paid attention to them going in, coming out, or more importantly, to the bag full of heads that Chinwendu carried slung over her other shoulder. Didn't look like it. There were Ancient worshipers, teeth file and hair in complicated stupid braids coated with red mud, against the far block but they looked to be praying or some such nonsense, heads together and voices hissing through their clenched teeth.

      Esme made a point of ignoring them while watching them from the corner of her eye, just like everyone else. No one got too close to them. Rest of the crowd was about normal for this time of day and block of the city. Lots of scavengers covered in rags hunting for anything they could sell. Their goggles whirred and clicked endlessly as they examined finds big and microscopic. Three speculators fresh through the Clockwork Rift from earth stood in their finery, satin and lace and velvet draped around their bodies instead of good solid leather armor. One of the three had a monocle on a stick that he peered through as if looking at samples about to be pinned for sale.

      They got glared and the occasional wad of spit at their feet.

      Chinwendu left them behind, striding out of the block, up a flight of stairs with treads just barely big enough for her feet, and then onto the South Dragon train with its fanciful dragon engine blasting steam out the sculpted nostrils. Three stops, all paid by flashing Noor's symbol at the attendant, and they got off. The skywinder loomed overhead, line stretching for three long, narrow blocks. Esme flashed Noor's symbol, little brass broach that had once been an alien button or something, that she'd carefully pinned to her jacket now that they were getting close. Got them moved to the front of the line and no grumbling that Esme could hear from the other people waiting. She let Chinwendu tell the attendants which level they needed, let Chinwendu handle all the conversation. Skywinder's engine roared like a dragon as it idled, drowning out every little bit that Esme could normally hear.

      No point to trying, to turning on the clunky amplifiers she'd bought from a tinkerer down by the dock, not up here. That was for up top-side when she headed into Noor's office. He liked to be heard so Esme made sure her amplifiers had power, that the little trumpets still fit in her ears, wires unkinked and connections snug.

      Then Chinwendu moved to the platform and gripped the rail so tight her knuckles went white. Esme ran a hand down the back of Chinwendu's neck, earning a smile so shy you could almost see the child Chinwendu had been all those years ago before she'd escaped her family and chosen her own name, her own gender, her own life. Chinwendu rubbed her short bush of a beard against Esme's leg and then shuddered as the skywinder engine roared.

      Cables snapped and then began to roll the platform upwards. People always looked out over the city with awe, like it was some miracle to them. Weird. City was just a city, place people lived. The dome overhead was dingy, stained by the sulfur rain outside. Inside clouds of steam rose towards the curve overhead. Water dripped back down the outside wall where it would be harvested, purified, recycled endlessly.

      The buildings were nothing special, either, just great blocks with odd-shaped rooms dropped where their alien creators had chosen. Or just dropped anywhere. Esme'd never seen a pattern to the city's streets, blocks and tunnels. Didn't think there was one. Apparently aliens didn't need to make patterns in their environments the way humans had to because the only logic there was in the city was what humans had imposed on it once they started living here.

      Street names and numbers, levels coded by monsters and colors painted on the outside. Bridges and ramps and stairs and tracks connected everything with everything else, if you know how to get there. And skywinder platforms that carried people up and down quick as you please, long as you had the money or the power to get a place in line.

      As they rose, the severed heads' stink became more unbearable.

      Esme tugged off her gloves, tainted things that they were, and covered her mouth and nose with her hand. Chinwendu nodded her agreement but didn't follow suit. One hand locked on the rail and the other on Esme's knees meant no hands to block the smell. Didn't mean Esme would try to help. Hands were too little to do much good for Chinwendu's nose and mouth. By the time they reached the top the stench was bad enough that Chinwendu gagged and Esme's eyes

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