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.“You live in a curious world, little crow,” Marcus mused.“Although should I dare to call you Robin?”All he got in response was a slight moan, and Marcus frowned, trying to reconcile himself with the idea of the injured man he desired and the monster created by the Society’s ambitions.Robin Harris looked… well, beaten.Not just his body but his very spirit.Even unconscious, the man held himself tenderly, as if breathing were painful.Although, Marcus figured, at this point, it probably was.“Well, if you’re going to be here, you might as well be of some use.Get him undressed.I’ll see if the doctor will come see him.” The old woman’s voice startled Marcus from his thoughts, and he started, nearly falling onto the bed.Catching himself, Marcus hemmed and hawed, stumbling over his words as the woman’s nictitating mechanical eye followed him about the room.Her other eye was inert, fixing on a point floating someplace in front of her face.“Stay and help or get out.Either way, I don’t care.I’m not being paid enough to stitch him together.I’m giving my notice.Tell him when he wakes up, or he’ll figure it out eventually.Bad enough I’m working for a sodomite.I’ll not work for one that has a death wish.”She was gone, much like the cat.Ungrateful and sour, the old woman left behind a box of medical supplies and a tainted air about the room.She’d obviously benefited from Harris’s mechanisms, but gratitude apparently only went so far.Marcus heard the stump of her legs hitting the stairs, and then the house was quiet, either empty of her presence or the housekeeper was stealthily gathering up the silver before fleeing the premises.“Well then,” Marcus murmured to the unconscious man laid out before him.“You’re becoming more and more trouble.”He was torn, if torn was even a strong enough word for the conflicting emotions coursing through Marcus’s thoughts.He couldn’t turn away from the man he’d rescued.Not even after everything he’d learned… everything he knew about what the man had done.Thousands had suffered at the hands of the Society.They’d brought about the rise of the Golems, creatures—humans according to the courts—created in workshops and grown to adolescence in bowls of plasma and blood, only to be used as shock troops and assassins for the Society’s cause.They’d been terrorists of the basest form, attacking the very foundation of the British Empire, but Marcus had a difficult time reconciling the idea of the man laid out before him had anything to do with their destructive agenda.Especially since it appeared the man devoted his entire life to fixing lost causes.Because if anyone was a lost cause, it was the sour-faced housekeeper who’d just given her notice over her employer’s unconscious body.Responsibility lies with those who can enact changes, his father had always preached from the head of the dinner table.It is our duty to step up and do what is right for all, even if it is for someone we do not care for.We cannot pick and choose who we champion.To do so denies your birthright… your responsibilities… your very legacy.“And we can’t have that, can we, Mr.Harris?” Marcus told the man on the bed.“Now let’s get you undressed and I’ll see how badly you are injured.Pray my body is cooperative and I’ll be able to walk when I’m done.”AT LEAST the housekeeper did him one small favor before she packed up her belongings and left.Within half an hour of Marcus hearing the woman stomp out of the house with a suspiciously clinking carpetbag, there was a loud rap on the front door, and he’d opened it to find a small, harried-looking blonde woman standing on Harris’s front stoop.She was handsome in a way only a woman could be, pretty enough but made beautiful by the sharp intelligence in her eyes.He was about to introduce himself when she stepped forward, edging into the brownstone.“Did Harris get a butler?” She pushed past him, a leather medical bag swinging from her tiny hand [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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