The Osiris Curse Read online

  But Tweed had figured it out. He had come to the conclusion that it was Harry Banks, the man who had betrayed them to Lucien a few months back.

  Why had Tweed suspected the man in the first place? Because he had been into Banks's gambling den, had witnessed massive automata fighting each other in illegal boxing matches. Harry had a scam going, where the automata were controlled from a hidden room by real boxers strapped into pneumatic rigs, their movements and punches transmitted to the constructs so it looked as if the punters were betting on illegal automaton fights.

  When Tweed had seen the chaos at the first robbery, how the vault doors had been ripped from their hinges, the walls of the banks simply bashed down, he'd immediately thought of Harry Banks.

  Octavia disagreed. If ten feet tall automata were smashing down walls and making their escape through the streets of London, someone would have seen it.

  Now they had their answer. Harry Banks had somehow found a way to make his automata invisible. That had to be Ministry technology. Which meant Banks had stolen it, or rather more worryingly, that there was a leak in the government department.

  Tweed made a mental note to mention it to his dad. Barnaby Tweed was the man in charge of the Ministry now. He would have to look into it.

  But that was for later. Right now they had a bank robbery to foil.

  “Come on,” he said, slipping out of the alley. Once he got used to the strange rippling effect in the air, it was easy enough to keep an eye on the constructs. The robbers moved slowly, trying to keep as silent as possible, pausing when they heard a noise, then moving on when the coast was clear. They kept to the back streets, traveling along a path where all street lights, both gas and Tesla-powered, had been put out of commission.

  “You wanted to know how I knew which bank would be hit next?” Tweed whispered.

  “I wouldn't say wanted to know. But I'm mildly curious, yes.”

  He nodded at the street lights. “I visited the other banks—the ones that had already been robbed. The street lamps along the most likely escape routes were all broken. I've been checking the other banks every night, looking for one with a similar pattern.”

  Octavia narrowed her eyes. “Are you honestly telling me you spend every night walking around checking all the banks in London?”

  “Don't be ridiculous. How would I do that? I'm not Atticus Pope, you know.”

  “Yes, I know you're not Atticus Pope,” said Octavia. “Because Atticus Pope isn't actually real.”

  “Some people think he is,” said Tweed defensively. Atticus Pope was a popular character who starred in his own pulp novels. Crime fighter, investigator, all round bad-guy catcher. Tweed loved the books. He was currently reading Atticus Pope and the Men from Mars.

  Octavia gave Tweed what he had come to call “the look.” He reckoned it was a skill passed down through the female bloodline or something, because he had seen Jenny Turner give her husband, Carter Flair, the exact same look on numerous occasions.

  “If you really want to know, all the robberies were close to each other. I've just been checking the banks that fall within a two mile radius of the others.”

  “Clever boy. How many were there?”

  “Eight.”

  “Eight! And you've been checking them for how long?”

  “About three weeks,” said Tweed, peering around the corner of a red brick warehouse. A shadowy alley filled with moldering crates and rotting garbage stretched ahead of them. He could smell decaying vegetables, the sickly sweet smell of fruit well past its date.

  He frowned as he scanned the alley. “I can't see them,” he whispered.

  “Let me look.”

  Tweed bit his tongue. Octavia never trusted anything he said. She always had to see for herself.

  “I can't see them either—No wait, there they are.”

  Tweed leaned around Octavia's shoulder, noting absently that her hair smelled rather pleasantly of oranges. He saw the ripple in the air, the heat wave effect that betrayed Harry's automata.

  Except…

  “There's only one,” said Tweed.

  There was a slight noise behind them.

  Tweed and Octavia whirled around to find the second automaton towering over them, its invisibility cloak switched off. The construct was terrifying, a hulking, broad-shouldered figure about twelve feet tall, its dark blue paint chipped and battered. The automaton had been modified since Tweed last saw it fighting in the ring. A glass-covered cage had been built into the construct's chest. A thin man sat in this cage, strapped into a cracked leather seat. His hands hovered over a set of controls.

  “Boo,” the man said.

  He twitched the control and the automaton swung its massive arm. Tweed and Octavia ducked. The arm smashed into the corner of the wall, gouging a huge hole out of the building.

  Tweed and Octavia scrambled to their feet, darting to either side of the construct. It whirled around, following their movements a lot faster than Tweed expected. Not only outside modifications, but internal as well.

  He looked frantically around, but there was nowhere to go. Running away was suicide. The thing would be on top of them in an instant.

  Which only left…

  Tweed ducked beneath the sweeping arms for a second time.

  “Keep still, damn you,” snarled the robber. “Let me knock your head off!”

  Tweed spun in a circle and ended up at the rear of the automaton, reaching up to grab the armor plating across its back. He did this at the exact same time as Octavia.

  “My idea,” she said. “I get to drive.”

  “I was here first!”

  Octavia heaved herself up onto the automaton, scrambling up along the thick pipe of the spine. Tweed followed, pulling himself up until he was kneeling on the automaton's broad shoulder. The driver seemed to realize something was going on that shouldn't be. He jerked around in circles, desperately trying to find them.

  “Where are ye?” he shouted. “C'mere so I can squish your heads. I want to see you pop.”

  “Charming,” said Octavia.

  “I want to drive,” said Tweed.

  “So do I.”

  “Flip you for it?”

  Octavia rolled her eyes, then quickly reached out and grabbed hold of the automaton's head when the construct gave a sudden leap forward, sailing five feet though the air. It skidded in the snow when it landed, then whirled around to face the way it had come, obviously hoping to find Tweed and Nightingale standing there in the middle of the road.

  “Fine,” she said. “Hurry up.”

  Tweed reached into his pocket and pulled out his lucky penny. He threw it into the air and caught it.

  “Heads,” said Octavia.

  Tweed lifted his hand, then swore under his breath. “Heads,” he said resignedly.

  Octavia clapped her hands together. “Splendid. Now let's get this fellow out so we can get after the second robber. He's making his escape.”

  Tweed peered into the dark alley, noting the distortion in the air as the second robber decided to make a break for it.

  “How do we get laughing boy out?” asked Octavia.

  Tweed thought about it. “Don't move,” he said. Then he took his penny and knocked it against the metal.

  Ting.

  He paused, then did it again.

  Ting.

  He kept it up, holding a slow, steady rhythm until the driver of the automaton heard it. He stopped moving.

  “Hey. H-Hey. What are you doing?”

  Ting.

  “Hey, cut that out! This is expensive equipment here.”

  Ting.

  Ting.

  Ting.

  “Enough!” shouted the driver.

  Ting.

  Then Tweed hit much harder.

  TING!

  Then he stopped.

  “What was that?” shouted the driver. “What did you do?”

  Octavia opened her mouth to say something, but Tweed quickly held his hand up to stop her.
She frowned at him, and Tweed thought he'd probably pay for that later. She hated it when he tried to silence her, even if it was for a good reason.

  A moment later there was the hiss of escaping air and the front part of the cage swung upward. Tweed and Octavia tried to move out of sight, but it wasn't really easy when they were perched on the shoulders of a giant automaton.

  There was a pause, then the driver's hand slowly rose into view holding a revolver.

  “Over to you,” said Tweed.

  Octavia smiled and pulled out her Tesla gun. Tweed knew she liked nothing more than finding a good excuse to use it. She pointed it at the rising hand and fired. A burst of bright blue lighting burst out of the chamber and crawled over the driver's hand. He screamed, his fingers spasming. The revolver fell into the foot well with a clatter.

  Tweed peered over the top of the cage and saw the driver slumped over on the floor. “You didn't kill him, did you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Off you go then,” said Tweed. Octavia clambered down into the driver's cage. She fiddled with buttons and dials until the front of the cage lowered itself and sealed her in.

  Tweed stood up on the automaton's shoulders and pointed into the alley. “Follow that robot!” he shouted, reckoning he must look pretty heroic standing there, silhouetted against the night sky.

  Then the automaton lurched drunkenly forward and Tweed sailed through the air, landing flat on his back in the snow.

  He groaned and sat up, watching as Octavia tried to figure out the controls. The automaton staggered to the side, crashing into the alley wall. Tweed flinched and covered his head as bricks and dust fell around him. The automaton heaved to the left again, leaving a massive, automaton-shaped hole in the wall.

  The automaton straightened up and Tweed quickly climbed back up onto its shoulders. Then he held on for dear life as they staggered forward, Octavia trying her best to keep the movements smooth and steady.

  She wasn't very successful. They careened into walls, spun around in circles, and at one point the automaton fell onto its knees and crawled through the alley for a while. While it was doing this, Tweed leaned over the top of the cage.

  “Are you sure you wouldn't like me to drive?” he shouted. “Only, I think you might be more dangerous than the bank robbers.”

  “Nonsense!” Octavia shouted back. “I'm getting the hang of it now.”

  She pulled back on a lever and the automaton lurched awkwardly to its feet. Tweed grabbed hold of its head to make sure he wasn't sent flying again. The construct took a hesitant step forward, then another and another, until they were moving at a steady rolling gait.

  Tweed laughed and smacked the automaton's head. “Come on then! Go faster!”

  They picked up speed, exiting the alley and skidding into a wide thoroughfare. Tweed scanned the street until he spotted the wavering in the air that betrayed the second automaton, then leaned over and pointed.

  “Over there!”

  Octavia nodded and set off in pursuit. A few seconds later the footprints ahead of them paused in the snow, then shifted and smeared as if the driver was turning around to look behind him.

  Then he set off again, the footprints appearing even faster as he picked up speed.

  “Come on, Songbird!” Tweed shouted. “He's getting away!”

  The automaton picked up speed, stumbled slightly, then smoothed out its stride. Tweed grinned as he felt the cold wind sting his cheeks. The distortion in the air grew closer as the robber slowed beside each road and alley that branched off from his planned escape route. Then he darted down a narrow path between two tenement buildings. Sparks burst from the stonework as the automaton's shoulders scraped the walls.

  Octavia followed after, moving her construct slightly to the side so it wouldn't be slowed by the walls. They were gaining ground now, only about five paces behind. Tweed raised himself to a standing position, trying his best to keep his balance. He had a plan in mind that involved him leaping suavely across the narrowing gap, landing athletically on the fleeing automaton and doing something incredibly clever to render the invisibility device useless.

  Octavia, on the other hand, had her own ideas.

  She put on an extra burst of speed, and as the two constructs exited the narrow lane she lashed out with the automaton's fist, smashing it into the back of the fleeing robber with a resounding clang. Tweed grabbed on tight as the jolt vibrated up through his feet and along his spine. There was a bright flash of light, the smell of something burning, and the automaton appeared suddenly in front of them.

  It was similar to the one Tweed was standing on, except it was covered in flaking red paint instead of blue. As it straightened and turned toward them, Tweed saw that the driver was much larger and much scarier-looking than the one Octavia had shot.

  He actually looked like one of the men who Tweed had seen operating the boxing rigs in Harry's back room. Indeed, Tweed watched with interest, and no small amount of trepidation, as the man fiddled with levers, raising the automaton's arms up into the traditional boxer's stance.

  He jerked a lever forward. The automaton jabbed out with its left hand, crashing it into their construct. Tweed was lifted into the air by the force of the blow. He started to slide down the automaton's back, but grabbed hold of the neck before he fell, draping himself across the construct's back like a particularly useless cloak.

  Octavia clumsily tried to return the blow, but the man brought the right arm up to block her, then jabbed the left fist into their automaton's midsection.

  They slid back in the slush. Tweed was lifted into the air again, then smacked back against the metal. The robber pushed forward, raining blow after blow onto the robot.

  This was hopeless. Any moment now that metal fist was going to hit Tweed, breaking bones he would really rather stayed whole. He finally let go, fell, and landed on his backside in the cold slush. He swore when he saw how muddy his new greatcoat was getting, then swore again, even louder, when Octavia was pushed back another step, the automaton's foot almost crushing his leg.

  He scrambled to his feet and moved around the two constructs. Spectators had gathered by now. It was inevitable. They had moved off the robbers’ escape route, and the road in which they were fighting was a normal well-lit street lined with tenements, shops, and lots of pubs. The constant barrage of clanging metal had brought the curious out to see what was going on.

  Tweed quickly patted down his coat. He had a hundred pockets in the thing and he was sure he's put his own Tesla gun in one of them. He only hoped it still had a charge. He was terrible at remembering that kind of thing.

  He eventually found it in an inside pocket and yanked it out, pointing it at the automaton. He hesitated. The robber had pinned Octavia's construct against the wall and was pummeling it over and over with its fists. The thick glass that surrounded her protective cage had cracked. It didn't look like it would hold much longer.

  But he couldn't just fire. The electricity would hit Octavia as well.

  He moved to the side, trying to see if he could get a clear shot. But there was nothing. The robber and Octavia were constantly touching. Hitting one would hit the other.

  Octavia saw him standing watching. She raised her hands in a “what the hell are you doing?” gesture. Tweed responded by waving at the automaton, then holding the gun up in the air and then repeating her own gesture back at her: “What do you expect me to do?”

  She set her mouth in a thin line, waiting for the tiniest gap between blows. When it came she flung all her levers forward.

  The feet of her automaton flew out in front of her and it slid down the wall like a drunkard finally giving up for the night. It carried on falling and ended up on its back.

  Tweed saw the driver grin in anticipation. He thought he had her trapped. He moved forward and Octavia's construct kicked out, smashing into the robot's groin. The red automaton staggered back a few steps. Not much, in the grand scheme of things, but enough for Tweed to fire
his Tesla gun.

  The electricity arced and crawled across the metal casing. Sparks exploded outward, flashes of white and orange light blossoming inside the cage as the instrument panels exploded. The robber frantically slapped at his harness, somehow insulated from the electricity. The belts released and he shoved the cage open. Smoke billowed out and the man tumbled to the ground as his automaton gave a screeching groan and fell flat on its face.

  The robber looked around and saw Tweed. His face crumpled with rage. He pushed himself to his feet and ran straight at him.

  Tweed yawned and fired again.

  Nothing happened.

  He looked at his gun, shook it, and pulled the trigger again. Still nothing. The man was only ten paces away.

  “I'm gonna kill you, boy!” he shouted. “Kill you dead!”

  Tweed thought about berating the man for this careless grammar and needless repetition of words, but he didn't get a chance because at that moment writhing blue fire struck the man from behind and he went leaping into the air like a child's jack-in-the-box.

  Octavia joined Tweed as the man crashed back to the snow. He was smoking ever so gently.

  “Damn,” she said. “Still had the setting on high. Think he's all right?”

  “Mummy,” sobbed the man in a pain-filled voice.

  “He'll live,” said Tweed.

  A cheer burst out behind them. They turned to see that the crowd had grown rather large by now. They were cheering and applauding wildly. Tweed grinned. He spread his arms wide and performed an extravagant bow.

  Octavia punched him in the arm.

  “Ow! What was that for? Are we not allowed some adulation? That was good work we did tonight.”

  “Maybe,” said Octavia in a fierce whisper. “But how happy is the Queen going to be if we're linked to this? More importantly, how happy is Barrington Chase going to be?”

  Tweed's mood darkened instantly. Barrington Chase. The name alone brought him out in shudders of annoyance and irritation. The man had become the bane of his life lately. A member of the secret services and appointed by the Queen herself to train them in…“helpful skills,” as she called it.