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    Strands: steampunk mystery gay romance, #4
    Strands: steampunk mystery gay romance, #4
    Strands: steampunk mystery gay romance, #4
    Ebook208 pages3 hours

    Strands: steampunk mystery gay romance, #4

    By Hollis Shiloh

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    About this ebook

    Gareth Silverman has been locked up, away from his magic — and is slowly dying. Silus is desperate to get him free. With the help of friends from Skeffield Manor, he might just manage it...but at what cost?

    Join friends old and new — magicians, mechanicalized men, and others, including one sparkly designer — at the revolving doors of Skeffield Manor, as it once again becomes a stage for magic, mystery...and love.

    Takes place after "Mystery at Skeffield Manor," and in the same universe as "Wes and Kit" and "Robert and Louie," "Like A One-Eyed Cat," "Cold Hands Warm Heart," and "Gear Heart." 

    A story told from multiple points of view. 

    Length: approx. 54,000 words
    Heat level: Low

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSpare Words Press
    Release dateJun 4, 2017
    ISBN9781386222606
    Strands: steampunk mystery gay romance, #4

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      Book preview

      Strands - Hollis Shiloh

      STRANDS

      a steampunk mystery romance

      by Hollis Shiloh

      Gareth

      It's only a cup of cocoa.  I heard the familiar voice outside my door, bargaining with the guards.  At least he was being polite today: that was a definite improvement.

      I sat in the dark cell and listened, waiting.  It was too dark to see, and I had my arms around my knees, drawing up to my chest.  It was the high point of the day when Silus visited.  The cell was specially treated so that no magic could be worked in it, and I was not trusted with any sort of natural light or window.  I sat in the dark for nearly twenty hours a day, and had a few supervised hours of light, so that my eyes did not atrophy, and so that I did not go mad.

      The matron who supervised me frightened me, though, and so the light was little better than the dark.  I was not allowed any books, which would have been a help.  Instead, I got to see the condition of the cell, myself, and the matron staring at me with hard eyes, while I waited through those few hours with light.  She never seemed to tire, and rarely took her eyes away from me.  By the end of three hours, I welcomed the dark.

      The fourth hour, that was when I was allowed visitors.  I had only one.

      Gareth, said Silus.

      I uncurled from my position and looked up at him, raising my head and squinting against the bright light of the glowing lantern he brought with him.  He'd talked — or bribed — the guard into allowing the cocoa in, so he held that in one hand.  The guard held the lantern and followed him in.

      Alas, we couldn't do as much as we'd have liked in our hour together.  He smiled at me, and I saw it, despite how his face was thrown into shadow by the bobbing lantern light, and how the rest of the light dazzled me a little, though the lantern was turned low.

      Drink this, he ordered me.  I've gone to a lot of trouble.

      I knew his gruff words hid his concern.  Silus Smith was my boyfriend, and our magic was sewn together.  I could always sense his arrival at the prison, and when he drew closer.  It made me feel a little more alive.  When he was far away, I sometimes thought dark things, and wondered if he would abandon me after all — cut the ties between us as easily as he had once snapped them, and leave me on my own to face the wrath of the magical ministry and the whole justice system come down on my head.

      I had been involved with a man of the magical ministry, Bauer, who had turned, who had been working towards his own ends.  He'd interfered with and contaminated a number of cases, not to mention stolen things and interfered with the law.  Bauer was set to be locked away for life, after they got the information they needed from him.

      I was imprisoned for an indeterminate amount of time, perhaps forever, in a cell in which I could not touch my magic, nor even have light most of the time.  I didn't want to be here, but there was no way of escape — I had checked — and no way to harm myself, if I had been willing to give up on life.  I nearly was, at times, but I had not attempted any such thing, knowing my future treatment would be much more severe if I did so.

      I had, however, been steadily losing my appetite, even with only two meals a day.  Someone must have told Silus for him to go to so much trouble to bring me something tempting.  I hadn't liked to bother him with it during our hour together.  It was the only time of day when I felt at all alive, less wraith-like.

      Now, I accepted the mug from him with a startled murmur of thanks. 

      Just drink it.  Silus was not a man to mince words.  He could be cold and hard and often uncaring — and I loved him desperately.  He cared for me just as deeply.  I was almost certain of it.

      He watched me drink, not satisfied till I'd finished it.  It tasted rather good, although not as good as it should have.  When I was myself, not locked away in a dungeon without magic, I could always taste things very clearly, acutely even, but here taste seemed rather dull and far away.  I appreciated the gesture, though, and the chocolate left a good taste on my tongue — dull, but good.

      I handed the mug back with a thank you, and licked my lips.  He looked at me, at them.  There was a smile around his eyes, a crinkle of good humor and happiness.  I had not seen that in some time.

      He reached up and cuffed my hair affectionately, the only affection he would probably allow himself to show under the guard's bored eyes.  I uncurled a little further.  What, Silus? I asked.  My mouth had gone dry suddenly.

      There might be a way out, he said.  He shifted a little on the bed beside me, not looking at me now, as if he'd grown unaccountably nervous.

      I closed my hand on his lower arm.  What?  Silus, if there's any way, anything I can do...

      He cleared his throat, shifting a little.  I released him, my heart sinking.  It was at times like this that I wondered if he did feel for me as much as I felt for him — or if I had become a duty alone, someone he would not give up on from sheer stubbornness, rather than any remaining actual affection.

      I looked down at my lap, moving my hands there, away from him.  I studied the ragged cotton trousers of my prison wear, my cracked skin, and the nails that needed a trim.

      It's a case, said Silus.  If I tackle it and can get anywhere, they'll set you free.  His hand closed on my upper arm.  Gar, do you understand?  He gave me a little shake, and I looked at him, blinking. 

      He'd touched me.  His face was intense, intent with purpose, even hope.  My spirits rose a little seeing that expression on his face.  Silus was a man with a mission — always.  And now all his strength and power of will and purpose was aimed towards getting me free.  He would do it, if anyone could.

      Okay, I said.  Let me know if I can help.  But be safe.

      He pushed a hand back over my hair again, a gentle-rough gesture, his eyes filled with a concern he never really let show.  I must look rough if he was letting it show, even in his eyes.  He'd always been a rather cold-hearted man, my boyfriend.  But he cared about me.  I believed that at least part of the time.

      He scowled a little, looking fierce.  I'll bring you more cocoa tomorrow, if I can.  And then, then he leaned forward, still looking fierce but also, strangely, almost terrifyingly tender, and kissed me on the mouth, onlookers or no.

      Robert

      I'm afraid I really must insist.  Robert's voice was firm, and he put as much of his military gravity into it as he could still manage.  While it was undeniably pleasant being retired and safe from inquiry and discovery in the military — not to mention being home with his father at his beloved family home and sharing life with his dear Lou — there had definitely been something to be said for having a rank and knowing where one stood with people. 

      Specifically, that one either had consequence or didn't.  It wasn't as much a shadowy thing of law and money as whether one outranked someone else or not.  Specifically, if he did, they had to obey — and if he didn't, he must usually follow their orders.  It was a very clear-cut way of living, with exceptional accomplishments earning a certain dash and greater credit and responsibility and rank — but always, that rank was plain to see and visible to even the meanest intelligence.

      Now he was staring down at an angry little man who might be a clerk, or might be someone really quite important, but at any rate, seemed to think he had the right to deny a Skeffield an audience with someone high up in the magical ministry.

      There had been quite a scandal a few months ago.  It was taking some time to clear up.  Hearing that the man who'd saved his father's life was still in prison, denied the use of his magic (for he was a magician, and had transgressed some of their laws), Robert had gotten quite angry. 

      While Silverman had no doubt done wrong, it was still very clear-cut.  He'd gone against Bauer, who'd coerced him into trying to steal valuable artifacts, earning himself a great deal of trouble and pain, all to save Robert's father's life. 

      Many people would not have bothered.  Because the sad fact was, Robert's father was dying.  His heart was giving out; they didn't know how long he had yet.  And still, Gareth had risked his own life to save Mr. Skeffield.

      He was a hero, as far as Robert was convinced, not a villain.  When legal counsel had only gotten so far, and the Skeffields had received word about the current state of Gareth's case through yet another telegram, he'd finally gotten good and angry.

      The flowers were blooming at Skeffield Manor, making a lovely spring, and the man who had let Robert's father live long enough to see that spring was locked away in some dank hole.  And Robert simply wasn't having it anymore.

      I will speak to someone now, if you please, or it will be in all the newspapers by noon tomorrow, just what sort of travesties of justice are performed here.  He stamped his cane for emphasis.

      While he was more or less bluffing — he had no control over any newspapers — his family did own quite a lot of stock in one of most widely circulated papers of the city.  He might have no head for business (his sister controlled all that sort of thing, and wouldn't thank him for fumbling his hack-handed soldier's mitts in it), but the bluff was a good one and he knew it.  It was plausible, and he could practically hear the man thinking That would be just like a Skeffield. 

      His family had been known for rather ruthless business practices and a lot of wealth for some time.  That he was an ex-soldier with more to hide than he ever let anyone know, and this was pure bluff, the man needn't know.  This clerk had to waver and send Robert on to a higher authority — where he would use this or some other ruse to go further, until he could finally make a difference, or at least get some useful information.

      Whatever one said about life, there were times when it just did best to get good and proper mad.  With proper Skeffield steel and white-hot passion running through his veins, he meant to test that to its limits today.  And he would shamelessly use his family's influence to do so, if it would make a difference.

      The clerk gave him a sour look, as if he'd tasted something particularly lemony.  I'll just fetch someone, shall I?  His mouth was pressed tight as he walked away.

      The man removed himself and hurried away sullenly to some inward fold of the building.  Robert wondered if it was a magical building, with all sorts of secret passages and extra rooms that could only be found by those with certain magical strengths.  It was a curious and somewhat foreboding thought.  Anybody ordinary could be lost here forever, perhaps.

      At any rate he didn't take the opportunity to snoop.  He'd have thought it beneath him even if the idea of danger hadn't occurred to him.  Instead he thrummed his fingers on the desk and looked around impatiently as he waited.  He'd been better at waiting while he was a soldier; he must be getting soft.  He had always just slightly looked down on civilians.  It was an odd shift in his world to have to see things as one now.

      Two men entered the hall, talking quietly.  They came from the direction opposite the one the clerk had gone, and moved on soft feet from somewhere inside the dark wood-paneled rooms.  He'd not have heard their approach at all on the carpet except for the soft cadence of their voices.

      He stared in astonishment.  They nearly walked past him, but in his surprise he lost all of a soldier's edge and called out, Lou!

      Louie Candless was a designer and Robert's particular friend — his boyfriend, beloved, and life partner.  Louie was pint-sized, sweet, expressive, and not terribly masculine.  He felt things intensely, whether that might be the colors of a sunset or the particularly revolting shade of a living space's wall coloring.

      Now he was deep in conversation with a man about his height — a man with ginger whiskers and auburn hair on his head arranged in a smooth, neat helmet with a sheen of its own, soft-looking but every hair in place, as though he didn't need any oil to keep it neat, because it wouldn't dare misbehave.

      Louie was wrapping a scarf about his neck as he talked, clearly preparing to leave, but still sounding animated and involved in the conversation, with the kind of shy, confiding nature he showed.  It always devastated Robert a little when it was aimed elsewhere.  There was nothing flirtatious about him, except for the usual sweetness he could no more have discontinued than he could have stopped breathing, but his manner and speech made it clear he trusted and liked this man on at least some level.

      And the man was a magician.  Coming from the inner folds of the building gave him away.  And if his brisk air of belonging — as of a man who owned a spot here securely, hunkered down from years of work and devotion — hadn't given him away, then his uniform certainly would have.  As they stopped and stared at him, another shock traveled through Robert, and he blinked. 

      The man with ginger whiskers and darker hair wore not just the dark navy blue suit it had appeared at first, but a pair of lapels that marked him — good lord, as one of the highest-ranked magicians in the country!

      It clearly said L2.  Only L1 was a higher official rank, and he'd heard of very few of those.

      His skin prickled and he backed away, feeling a shock of revulsion and fear — and betrayal.  These were the sorts of magicians who'd participated in some of the worst work on the front lines — or even from farther back.  Worse than giant bombs, they were, for all the damage they could fling so calmly at the enemy.  Surely it wore them out, ground them down, but it was still killing.  They'd been like a Big Bertha to him — terrifying, even on our side.  The men, the regular sort of men, had found ways to avoid them, avoid even meeting their gaze for fear of these monsters they might be.  For who else could be used as a weapon all day, shelling enemies who were much more like the men in the trenches than these magicians? 

      He had certainly put away many of those old feelings, but the sight of such a high and terrible rank brought back the stench of mud and blood to him.  He stood breathing heavily, ragged breaths, his hands clenched uselessly at his sides, not from anger or reproach but as an automatic reaction to danger.

      Robert, said Louie, by turns surprised and awkward.  This is — a surprise.  He turned to the L2 magician and looked at him with a kind of confiding pride.  This is my Robert.

      The magician nodded as though he'd have expected no less.  In the moment Louie was turned away the two men had taken one another's measure fairly well.  Wariness reigned in the air between them.  A cautious nod between the two was as close as Robert intended to come to shaking hands, and the official appeared no more willing to close the

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