Burning Up

sailors who snapped to attention, around stanchions, past the galley were a tall, rawboned woman argued with slick-haired man over a bushel of potatoes, both of them gesturing wildly, paring knives in hand.
    A narrow passageway terminated at a locked door. Producing the key from the pocket of the coat she still wore, Mad Machen opened it and showed her into a triangular cabin at the very front of the ship. Well-lit and stocked with tools, Ivy immediately saw that it served as a smithy. She started forward, but paused when she caught sight of the glass tank along the bulkhead near the door. Waist-high, reinforced at the edges with iron, the aquarium was filled with water, a few silver fish . . . and a small squid. It darted around the tank, eight arms forming a cone, tentacles trailing.
    She turned to him, brows raised. “Supper?”
    “No. The Blacksmith said you’d need it.” He glanced around the room, frowning. “If I’d known it was you , I’d have put it in my cabin.”
    Because his was more comfortable or to keep her near his bed? Ivy didn’t ask. “This suits me,” she said, and it did. “What do I have to do?”
    “Repair a submersible.”
    She laughed, looking around the cabin. Though not as cramped as some of the men’s quarters, she certainly couldn’t fit a submersible here—let alone fit it through the door. “In here?”
    He smiled faintly. “No. It’s in Wales, already constructed—and as-is, it’s a complete loss. I need you to discover where my blacksmiths went wrong.”
    He strode past her to a chest constructed of steel. Ivy recognized that design—it was the Blacksmith’s. Like her bank in Fool’s Cove, it expanded and reconfigured when given the right combination. This one unfolded into a solid worktable. Long rolls of paper that had been hidden inside now lay on the surface.
    Curious, Ivy smoothed out the paper, and stared at the first sketch. Not just a submersible—it was shaped like a kraken, with mechanical arms and maneuverable tentacles. This had to be a joke. “Someone built this?”
    “Yes.”
    She tilted her head, struggling with her disbelief. It could be done, she supposed. A small, one-man craft that—
    Her gaze skimmed over the dimensions. She choked. “This is longer than your ship!”
    “Only the tentacles.”
    With a body as big as his cabin. “It can’t be done. This is of metal, not . . . not”—she wiggled her fingers at the squid—“what they have. The weight of the tentacles alone would destabilize the entire structure. There’s no counterweight.”
    “And you know that just from looking at the plans. My people had to build it first.” Mad Machen studied her face, his gaze dark and unwavering. “Fix it, Ivy. You’ll have mechanical flesh to work with. Yasmeen is traveling to London now to collect it from the Blacksmith.”
    She frowned at the plans, then at the aquarium. Using mechanical flesh could offset some of the weight, but the locomotion couldn’t function like a squid’s. The material simply wasn’t that fluid. “It can’t be done.”
    “It has to be.”
    “Why?” She couldn’t imagine any use a kraken might have. “What do you plan to do? Frighten sailors? Tear apart ships?”
    “Yes.”
    His implacable expression and the conviction in his voice stopped her. That was what he planned to do. Her chest tight, she looked down at the plans. “I won’t build a monster for you.”
    His face darkened. He moved in suddenly, solid behind her, pushing her hips against the table. Her fingers clenched, crumpling paper. Trembling with shock and anger, she waited, but he only stood behind her, chest heaving. She felt his ragged breath against her ear, then her neck. Her stomach tightened as calloused fingers slid her hair aside. Warm lips caressed her nape. Oh, blue. A shudder wracked her bones, and she didn’t know if it was anger or fear . . . or something else.
    Tension hardened the body pressing into hers, and he pulled away. Wary, she turned to look at him.
    His eyes were closed, his jaw clenched, his scars starkly white against his skin. Then he was striding for the door, pausing at the threshold. “Fix it and I’ll take you back to Fool’s Cove. If you refuse, you’ll never leave this ship.”
    He issued the rough threat without looking back. A moment later, he was gone.
    Ivy stared at the empty doorway. He was absolutely and utterly mad . Her heart pounding, she looked to the tank, then at the plans. She picked up a