Read Online BreadCrumb Trail (The Yellow Hoods, #2): Steampunk meets Fairy Tale by Adam Dreece - Free Book Online
Authors: Adam Dreece
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version of my Kundle sticks that you made for them— against our rules.”
“Actually,” said Nikolas, leaning back, arms crossed, “I had nothing to do with that.”
Anna glared. “Are you telling me that you had nothing to do with the treehouse, the pulley system, any of it?” She leaned in. “We are not blind, and yes, we do have our spies, everywhere.”
Nikolas took a deep breath. He held it as he played through in his mind the different ways this conversation could go. Part of him wanted to ask Anna why her spies didn’t warn him of LeLoup—that Simon St. Malo had someone hunting for him. He slowly exhaled as he tried preparing his words, but he didn’t get time to speak.
“It’s Christophe,” said Anna, revealing her suspicions. “We all thought him dead, but I’m thinking that he is how you are getting around the rules. He isn’t dead, is he? You and he—”
Nikolas sat forward and stroked his beard. “I wish that were true, but Christophe is dead. The Kundle sticks in question have little design to them. While they are useful, they are not the type of weapon you designed, once upon a time.” Nikolas bit his lip, for he’d long believed that Anna hadn’t actually invented them, but had stolen the design from someone else. She had never invented anything since, and had never improved on them. “If you came here just for an argument of principle, you shouldn’t have come.”
Anna tapped the table with her index finger as she said, “I need you to tell me who it is. You must know. You’ve probably taken their Kundle sticks apart and figured that out. You wouldn’t allow your granddaughter near them otherwise.”
She was dead right about that, and given that he’d never taken one apart, he knew it would reveal he did know something. Instead, Nikolas decided to take a path he rarely took and let his frustration with her show itself. His face started to go red. He was about to speak again when Jerome came back.
Jerome gently put down a silver tea tray holding two teapots and two fine porcelain cups, among other items. “Here is your tea. I warmed the biscuits. I hope you like them,” he said, reaching to pour the tea.
Anna glared at Jerome, stopping him. “I’m more than capable of pouring my own tea, thank you,” she said sharply. She gestured at Jerome for him to leave.
Nikolas gave Jerome a painful smile, but nodded that he would also appreciate Jerome leaving. Nikolas then turned to Anna, trying to figure out what to say. He’d arranged this meeting primarily to discuss his horseless cart and give her the plans, but now he didn’t feel like doing that. He wasn’t even going to ask if she’d brought a supply of her special waxes.
Suddenly, the door whipped open and a tanned, bald, mustached man entered. He had a desperate look on his face. Before he could say anything, Anna stood up and banged her cane against the floor—and two four-inch spikes sprung from the silver cane’s round, golden head and started crackling with electricity. Anna was ready to fight.
The weary man put up his hands upon seeing the weapon. “Please—I need help! My daughter is lost in the forest! She’s only eleven, and the snow is getting worse! Please, help!” The man wore a coat that looked like it had been sewn together from others. He looked poor, but honest. His facial features, tanned skin, and accent made it likely he was from a southern kingdom.
As quickly as Anna had moved toward the man, she moved back. Once seated, she deftly twisted the silver head of her cane. The spikes disappeared as quickly as they had emerged.
“Come in—close the door,” said Nikolas to the man, his hands up to demonstrate he intended no harm. “My friend here… she overreacted.”
“What was that?” said the man.
“It’s not important. Your daughter is,” said Nikolas. He got up, welcomed the man in, and gestured to an available chair.
Nikolas turned to the owner. “Jerome—” he started.
“Actually,” said Nikolas, leaning back, arms crossed, “I had nothing to do with that.”
Anna glared. “Are you telling me that you had nothing to do with the treehouse, the pulley system, any of it?” She leaned in. “We are not blind, and yes, we do have our spies, everywhere.”
Nikolas took a deep breath. He held it as he played through in his mind the different ways this conversation could go. Part of him wanted to ask Anna why her spies didn’t warn him of LeLoup—that Simon St. Malo had someone hunting for him. He slowly exhaled as he tried preparing his words, but he didn’t get time to speak.
“It’s Christophe,” said Anna, revealing her suspicions. “We all thought him dead, but I’m thinking that he is how you are getting around the rules. He isn’t dead, is he? You and he—”
Nikolas sat forward and stroked his beard. “I wish that were true, but Christophe is dead. The Kundle sticks in question have little design to them. While they are useful, they are not the type of weapon you designed, once upon a time.” Nikolas bit his lip, for he’d long believed that Anna hadn’t actually invented them, but had stolen the design from someone else. She had never invented anything since, and had never improved on them. “If you came here just for an argument of principle, you shouldn’t have come.”
Anna tapped the table with her index finger as she said, “I need you to tell me who it is. You must know. You’ve probably taken their Kundle sticks apart and figured that out. You wouldn’t allow your granddaughter near them otherwise.”
She was dead right about that, and given that he’d never taken one apart, he knew it would reveal he did know something. Instead, Nikolas decided to take a path he rarely took and let his frustration with her show itself. His face started to go red. He was about to speak again when Jerome came back.
Jerome gently put down a silver tea tray holding two teapots and two fine porcelain cups, among other items. “Here is your tea. I warmed the biscuits. I hope you like them,” he said, reaching to pour the tea.
Anna glared at Jerome, stopping him. “I’m more than capable of pouring my own tea, thank you,” she said sharply. She gestured at Jerome for him to leave.
Nikolas gave Jerome a painful smile, but nodded that he would also appreciate Jerome leaving. Nikolas then turned to Anna, trying to figure out what to say. He’d arranged this meeting primarily to discuss his horseless cart and give her the plans, but now he didn’t feel like doing that. He wasn’t even going to ask if she’d brought a supply of her special waxes.
Suddenly, the door whipped open and a tanned, bald, mustached man entered. He had a desperate look on his face. Before he could say anything, Anna stood up and banged her cane against the floor—and two four-inch spikes sprung from the silver cane’s round, golden head and started crackling with electricity. Anna was ready to fight.
The weary man put up his hands upon seeing the weapon. “Please—I need help! My daughter is lost in the forest! She’s only eleven, and the snow is getting worse! Please, help!” The man wore a coat that looked like it had been sewn together from others. He looked poor, but honest. His facial features, tanned skin, and accent made it likely he was from a southern kingdom.
As quickly as Anna had moved toward the man, she moved back. Once seated, she deftly twisted the silver head of her cane. The spikes disappeared as quickly as they had emerged.
“Come in—close the door,” said Nikolas to the man, his hands up to demonstrate he intended no harm. “My friend here… she overreacted.”
“What was that?” said the man.
“It’s not important. Your daughter is,” said Nikolas. He got up, welcomed the man in, and gestured to an available chair.
Nikolas turned to the owner. “Jerome—” he started.
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