(Sisters Three 2): A Stream and Spells Steampunk Adventure
Historical / Steampunk / Romance
Date Published: 08/04/2023
Publisher: Changeling Press LLC
The consequences of the Lewellen murder continue to plague the Preston
sisters. Polly braves an ice storm to recover the bag of gold sovereigns she
dropped from the airship and falls into the hands of desperate fugitives.
Molly the factory girl is taken to the country estate of her employer Mr.
Allenby, who is showing more than gentlemanly interest, and Dolly the
wagtail follows with her lusty client Pascal Baudelaire in tow.
Why are the mysterious and threatening Agents of the Queen, Miss Clayton
and Miss Cressy, snooping about? When the Jamieson twins show up out of the
blue to proposition Molly, the green-eyed monster threatens Pascal’s
equilibrium.
Mayhem follows the sisters as they seek to disentangle themselves from the
mystery and gain their freedom from the dangerous streets of London. Their
future depends on the money, but will Polly accept that gold doesn’t always
come in the shape of coins?
EXCERPT
Copyright ©2023 Mikala Ash
Polly’s Gold (Sisters Three 2)
The lighted windows of Gravesend lay far behind me. Ahead the ice storm had
transformed the marshes into a dark frozen wasteland.
I too had been transformed. That realisation diverted me from the pain of
frozen limbs, and the despair that threatened to unhinge me.
Who was I before?
Just a few days ago I’d been a daughter, a sister, mistress of the
Golden Bell pub, and known throughout London’s East End as the Bell
Gang leader’s moll, “Queen of the Bells,” or less
generously: Bill’s cunt.
Who had I become?
I’m still a daughter and sister, but events over the last few days,
much like an unexpected storm from the North sweeping all before it, have
altered my state in the world and within myself too. Bill had been brutally
murdered, and I was alone, with no protection in the savage world of the
docklands. By avenging Bill’s murder, I’d become a killer, a
vicious one at that. Since departing the pub without a word, I was probably
mistress of the Golden Bell no longer, and the new leader of the gang, Isiah
Spike, a nasty weasel-faced sod if ever there was one, wouldn’t
countenance my absence, and would punish me for it, if he ever got the
chance. Lastly by trudging through this freezing wilderness, I’d
turned treasure hunter.
Thanks to the late hour, and the driving sleet, the road out of Gravesend
was deserted. I’d been plodding along this forsaken stretch for a full
half hour after being deposited by a tiler’s dray at the end of
Norfolk Road. The wind howled, the icy rain pattered on my oilskin hood, and
the cold air rasped my throat. My nose was blocked and aching in the cold.
Except for my frozen face, Bill’s coat, hood and cape kept my body
dry, if not warm. Inside Bill’s wet and now ruined boots, my feet were
like numb blocks of wood. My complete costume, even down to the silk
drawers, were Bill’s. I’d decided a man would attract less
attention than a woman here on the southern reaches of the Thames and had
dressed accordingly.
The image of Bill’s mutilated body flooded my eyes with freezing
tears. He’d only been dead a few days, murdered and defiled by a fiend
in human form, a madman named James Polk. Bill, my lover and protector, had
been the ruthless leader of the Bell Gang, and with his death my position
was null and void. The pretenders to the throne had fought it out, and the
mollisher of the dead king was surplus to requirements, as they already had
their cunts ready to hand. My offer to continue running the pub with Hannah,
the cousin of Bill’s lieutenant, also dead by the same hand, was my
one chance of staying alive, at least for the next few days.
I’d taken my bloody revenge on Polk. Yet knowing Bill’s killer
was dead brought me no joy, just a cold hollowness in my chest. The chapter
that Bill occupied in my life had been closed so quickly, so emphatically,
I’d no time to mourn, and I expected my present task would simply
delay the final release of grief.
Just a few days ago, one by one, my sisters: Molly, the factory girl, Dolly
the wagtail, and I, had been kidnapped by the monster and his henchman.
We’d been held captive on an airship, and threatened with death to
reveal a secret we did not possess. In a desperate and savage fight
we’d overcome our abductors and found ourselves adrift in danger of
being lost. Luckily the River Police and marines in a military airship from
Shornemead Fort had rescued us before we had floated out to sea. I’d
been held at Scotland Yard for a day for prolonged and incessant
questioning. Inspector Astonberry knew we were lying about the real
circumstances of Polk’s death, but we stayed true to our story, though
it was a complete fiction. The inspector knew that Bill was up to his neck
in something that had led to his slaughter and, to his obvious chagrin, he
could not trip me up to discover what it was.
That was because I did not know. Bill had hidden a sack of gold sovereigns
from me, and when I discovered it he wouldn’t tell me where the money
had come from. That was out of character as he was usually so proud of his
little schemes. I suspected this had been what got him killed. But what had
he done for it, and who had paid him? Had it been a normal crime, so to
speak, such as burglary, or extortion? Or had he been, as the inspector
suspected, tied up in the traitorous buying of stolen secrets from the
Allenby factory? I didn’t know. Polk had taken Bill’s gold, and
I’d taken it back, and held it for a few minutes before making it
safe, or so I hoped.
I missed Bill so. My body ached for him…
About the Author
Aussie Mikala Ash used to be a mild-mannered training & development
consultant by day, and a wild sci-fi and paranormal adventure writer by
night. Now she is a brazen full-time writer and nature photographer who is
concentrating on having among other things, “… bags, and bags
of fun!” Mikala can be found on Facebook and on Twitter.
Author’s Instagram and Twitter: @ash_mikala
Author’s Facebook: @mikala.ash.9
Publisher on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram: @changelingpress
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