Steam Heat. Elizabeth Darvill

leather boots.

      I sling my satchel over my shoulder and fasten a leather belt around my hips before shoving another pistol in each side. As I begin walking to the battered metal door of my underground hideout, a pain rips through my chest. My knees buckle and I am falling towards the floor, I can’t seem to catch my breath. Shit, what if I am too late after all? Flames of agony lick through my chest, consuming the half of a soul I possess. It has never been this bad before. A coughing fit seizes me—hard enough to produce a mouthful of blood. Fuck me.

      Chapter Two

      My head lolls back against the rough upholstery of my seat. I am aboard one of the speed steamers that roam the landscape of America. They shuttle all manner of criminals, missionaries, the few remaining aristocrats and fortune seekers from the wilderness to the city and back again. I paid my price and got my fix. Even with the high of energy flowing through me after my sexual encounter with the steamer’s owner, I can feel the ache as what little soul I have left rapidly deteriorates.

      At least I got the information I required. I am now speeding into the Catskill Mountains and towards the other half of my soul. I hope to hell he is suffering as much as I am. I have never met him in real life, but we have shared some hot, nasty sexual encounters in linked dreams. The more we need each other, the more realistic and intoxicating the dreams become.

      As I kick my boots up on the empty seat across from me, I massage my temples to try to ease the throbbing. I have no idea what I am going to say to Ian when I see him. I don’t even know if he is aware of his heritage. All I could gather is he is in an apprenticeship with Nikola Tesla, in the foothills of the Catskill Mountains. They are attempting to find a way to repower the crystal that purifies our air.

      About the time the paranormal creatures began to appear, the air turned rancid and killed off a huge chunk of the population. A strange green man with the ability to speak without opening his mouth appeared with a crystal the size of a steam engine. He claimed that if it were powered by an energy source, it would keep the air pure. His only condition was that humans and the para-folk coexist in peace. President McKinley quickly agreed and appointed the man, who later said his name was simply Druson, as the vice president.

      Things evened out a bit, but the culture was forever changed. Most of the other countries ended up with the same offer from beings similar to Druson, and Tesla supplied the power source. His coils kept a constant flow of energy to the crystals—until recently. Now our crystal is dying and so will we, since immigration has been cut off. None of this was too concerning to me until I felt myself dying, slowly at first, but it is reaching an accelerated pace I can’t ignore.

      I was forced to return to the commune where I was born, a place I hadn’t visited in a very long time. When I demanded an answer from the elder of my clan as to why I felt as though I was dying, she calmly informed me I needed to find the boy whose soul I had been given half of at birth. She also very calmly told me that if I hadn’t run away, fleeing from my duty, I would have known this. And as a final insult she told me that with Ian’s energy, I would have the power to recharge the crystal. This is all too much responsibility for me, but seeing as how dying isn’t high on my list, I have few choices.

      The sound of the steamer’s whistle blowing lets me know I have reached my destination, but where Ian is is a little sketchy. I only vaguely know where Tesla’s lab is. With a sigh, I sling my satchel over my shoulder, nod to the few other passengers dozing in their seats and make my way to the platform and, I hope, a second chance at life.