Free Beauties of the Beast (The Yellow Hoods, #4): Steampunk meets Fairy Tale by Adam Dreece

insisted Everett, pulling out a flintlock rifle hidden in the front door frame. He aimed it at Marcus.
    Marcus rubbed between his eyes, thinking. “Everett, right? Everett Waxman. Son of Alan Waxman, former leader of the Tub. I met your father on a couple of occasions. Interesting man. Flat head, bulbous nose, gregarious.”
    Everett shrugged. “So, you’ve met him, am I to be impressed? All the more reason for you to leave us alone. Do you see a flying ship around here? No, so go.” He shook the rifle. “Leave!” Concern spread across his face as he saw the camel-men standing there, pistols still in hand but not pointed at him. How dangerous was this man?
    Marcus glanced down at the grassy border at his feet. “There are several ways in which I could get what I’m looking for. Few of them have happy endings. Tsuruko, is it? I hope I am pronouncing your name correctly.”
    She stared at him, and after a moment of hesitation, gave him a confirming nod.
    “Good,” he replied. “I see the worry in your motherly eyes. Hotaru means something to you. Please, spare everyone grief and tell me what you know. I’m starting to lose my patience.”
    Tsuruko shot a glance to her husband as the wheels turned in her mind. “It does not exist anymore. There is no Hotaru. It’s pieces, it became part of all this,” she said, pointing at the garden. “I have nothing to share with you. It is gone, long ago.”
    Marcus scratched the back of his neck and put his spectacles on. “That’s disappointing. You will show me every piece, then.”
    “We will do no such thing,” said Everett, fuming. “We want nothing to do with your Tubs and Fares and nonsense .”
    Staring at Everett to the point of making him take a half step back, Marcus stepped on to the grass. “‘ A man can no more run from his destiny as he can dig his way out of a hole.’ Luther Siler, Ingleash philosopher. You studied him, didn’t you?” He put his hands in the pockets of his pant. On the surface, Marcus seemed harmless, save for the intensity that emanated from him. Bowing his head, he sighed. “What I’m doing, I’m doing for the good of our kind. Every genius, inventor, scientist, everyone called an Abominator because they dare to pursue knowledge, to knock on the door of the impossible. You might have run away from the world, Everett, but I… I am changing it, and the Hotaru is key.”
    “Leave,” insisted Everett, raising his rifle.
    Marcus pulled out his pocket-watch and stared at it pensively. “I don’t have time for this. Enough with trying to be pleasant. Understand that this will be the last time you’ll see me. You’ll be dealing with representatives of mine from here on out.”
    Tsuruko stepped forward. “It was destroyed, long ago. I crashed out of the sky.”
    “Did you invent it?” he asked.
    She stared at Everett, who was shaking his head. “Yes.”
    “And you piloted it over the Eastern Mountains on your own?” he pressed.
    “No. I went through most of it. The Hotaru, it graces the wind, it moves well.”
    “Tsu, you shouldn’t—” said Everett, but she waved him off.
    “Impressive.” Marcus stared at the ground in thought. “You will build me one.”
    Everett fired at Marcus’ chest, knocking him clean off his feet. The bullet bounced off the armor below his shirt and skipped off of his eye. 
    Before Marcus could signal them to stop, one of the camel-men shot Everett in the shoulder, dropping him to the ground. Standing back up, his hand over his bleeding eye, Marcus glared at Tsuruko. “That will cost you dearly. There will be no opportunity for rebellion,” he said. He turned to the camel-men. “Take the boy.”
    “No!” screamed Tsuruko. Two of the camel-men took aim at Amami and Everett, while the third scooped up Richy.
    “You’ll get your son back after you’ve built me a working Hotaru,” said Marcus, taking a cloth from a saddle bag and putting it over his eye.
    Tsuruko dropped to her knees,