Free That Dratted Affair with the Dream Engine by Christine Danse

That
Dratted Affair with the Dream Engine
    Christine
Danse
     
    Published by Christine Danse at
Smashwords
     
    Copyright 2010 Christine
Danse
     
    Cover design by Christine Danse, using
Artweaver and Picnik.com
    Photograph of man by Celso
Pinto, http://www.sxc.hu/photo/271583
    Photograph of difference
engine by Matthijs van Heerikhuize, http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1185634
    Photographs used under this
image license agreement: http://www.sxc.hu/help/7_2
     
     
    Smashwords Edition, License
Notes
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    "I've a
surprise for you," said Annette, and I should have known I was in
for trouble when she spoke those words.
    Still, I let
her take me by the hand and lead me through London's streets by
night. We went on foot until Borough Road, where she hailed a
hansom cab. I did not hear her muttered instructions to the driver.
Only when we had passed the Thames did I realize that she was
leading us toward the East End. "Love," I said, levelly. "I don't
believe this is a very good idea." Long had I known that my wife
could not be reasoned with. All I could do was attempt to dissuade
her, though it was a fool's errand. Her stubbornness put a mule's
to shame.
    She patted my
knee reassuringly. "Relax, dear. I know exactly where we are going,
and we'll be fine. Promise." She gave me her winning smile and
gently touched her hand to my cheek. My response to her died on my
lips, and I settled back into the cab's seat with a resigned
sigh.
    Tight-lipped,
I watched the buildings grow shabby and forlorn. All manner of
shady figures populated the streets and bar fronts of the East End:
drunks, beggars, and unfortunate women who shuffled on the street
corners like molting crows. Annette patted my knee again, and I
sullenly broke off my stare.
    At last, we
rolled to a stop on a quieter street. The glow of the streetlamps
here was murky and diffuse, dulled by the haze of nearby industry.
"Here we are," she said, disembarking and paying the driver. She
began to walk toward a sooty brick wall. Only on second take did I
see the cramped doorway recessed in the shadows there, mounted on a
narrow flight of steps.
    "Come on,
then, darling," she said as I hesitated on the sidewalk. "It's
really all right."
    "Is this
necessary?" I asked. "Your last 'surprise' nearly got me fired from
the force."
    She laughed.
It was a sound like bells. "Oh, don't worry," she said. "We will be
very much still this time, and I won't be bound inside of a freight
car, and no steamdroids with batons will be involved." She seemed
to think for a moment, then added, "Actually, no steamdroids will
be involved at all." With a smile, she held her hand out to me,
delicate fingers spread in an inviting gesture.
    Despite
myself, the memory sent a flush of blood over my cheeks and
straight down to my loins. My pants grew uncomfortably tight.
Reflexively, I ducked my head, cleared my throat roughly, and threw
a quick glance up and down the sidewalk. We were alone. Annette
stood quietly, her smile bright, her hand unwavering. I was
compelled to take it and to follow her through the shadowed
doorway.
    She led me
into a cramped foyer, straight up a treacherous flight of stairs,
and down a dark hallway papered with peeling wallpaper. I had the
uncomfortable feeling of trespassing, although she walked on with
all the ease of a woman in her own home. I received the impression
that she had been here before, and I was not comfortable with the
idea. No, I was not comfortable with it at all. I began to wonder
about all the unwholesome places she had been without me ever
knowing. This could not be the first.
    There was one
open doorway along the hall,