A Midsummer Night’s Mechanical
Sensibility Grey Series
of Steampunk Suspense Book 3
Kirsten Weiss
Genre: Steampunk/suspense
Publisher: Misterio Press
Date of Publication: May 1, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-944767-00-6
ASIN: B01DOKO6CA
Number of pages: 224
Word Count: 69,000
Cover Artist: Kirsten Weiss
Book Description:
A Midsummer Murder
The California Territory, 1849
Blamed for burning down the San Francisco wharf, clockwork inventor, Sensibility Grey has spent the last three months in hiding. Now all she wants is to depart the gold-crazy boomtown for a new life in the East. So when the owner of a traveling theater offers her work embellishing his mechanical stage, she turns him down. Then he turns up dead on her doorstep along with his enigmatic stage.
An explorer of the mysteries of aether, Sensibility has her own secrets to keep, and adversaries who’ll stop at nothing to learn them. Is the mechanical stage a part of a bigger game? Or the key to unlocking her true, magical potential?
A Midsummer Night’s Mechanical is book three in the Sensibility Grey series of steampunk suspense.
CHAPTER
ONE
San
Francisco, California Territory, June 1849.
Sensibility sat
cross-legged upon her bed and tried not to think. She tried not to think of the
ache where her stays pinched her back. She tried not to think of tomorrow’s
journey across the American wilderness. She tried not to think about the clamor
of banging drums and tootling fifes and—
“Oh, good gad!”
She clenched her fist, pieces of quartz crystal biting into her flesh.
Sensibility sprang from the bed and threw open the boarding house window.
Oppressive heat, acrid from the nearby outhouse, rolled into the room.
Wrinkling her nose, she leaned out over the fenced back yard and craned her
neck. The afternoon sun streamed through the laundry, hanging limp on the line.
From her position, she couldn’t see the street procession. But neither could
she avoid hearing their blasted parade.
Something
scuttled near her elbow, and she jerked away, slamming her head on the window
frame. White pain arced through her skull.
A baby raccoon,
not much larger than the palm of her hand, cowered on the other end of the
narrow sill. It scrabbled, hunching into a tight ball, trapped on the high
ledge.
“Ow.” She
winced, rubbing her throbbing head and glad her chignon had taken the brunt of
the blow. “How on earth did you get up here?”
The raccoon
mewled.
“You shall have
to make your own way home, for you cannot come inside. Mrs. Watson has a strict
rule about animals inside her boarding house.”
Gently, so as
not to disturb the creature, she shut the window. The raccoon peered over the
ledge then looked at her, his expression plaintive.
Attempting to
ignore the animal, she paced the denuded room, her brown skirts swishing.
They had ample
space to swish. Nearly all her belongings lay compressed into a single
carpetbag, set before the empty wardrobe. The bedroom had an air of
abandonment.
Unsettled,
Sensibility rattled the quartz crystals in her hand and glanced to the window.
The animal
stared inside, forlorn.
She tugged at
her collar. It was such a small thing. But rules were rules. “You found your
way onto the ledge. You can find your own way down.”
Sensibility
turned to the journal open on the desk. Her sketch of an unworldly creature
she’d once encountered scowl from the page. Frowning, she slammed the book
shut. It had been careless of her to have left it open. Strange, she couldn’t
remember examining the journal before she’d gone downstairs to retrieve her
luncheon.
The crystals
pressed into her palm. She was so close to a breakthrough in aether technology,
but the clues remained buried. Buried in the remains of her father’s last
journal. Hidden in a journal from a traveling occultist. Scattered throughout
her own notes and theories. One day soon, she would fit those pieces together.
It was madness to hope she could solve that problem today.
Sensibility
opened her hand and gazed at the quartz crystals. She’d mastered the use of
aether to power small devices. But aether had other applications, such as
distance control and distance vision. These applications eluded her. “There has
to be a way…”
She glanced at
the window.
The animal
raised itself on its hind legs and pressed its tiny black paws to the glass.
Sensibility
groaned. “I know I’ll regret this.” Pocketing the crystals, she opened the
window.
The raccoon
cowered.
“You,” she said,
“being a wild animal, will attempt to bite me if I rescue you. But I will have
none of it. I shall pick you up, I shall take you outside, and you shall
neither bite nor scratch. Do you understand?”
In a swift
motion, she grasped it by the scruff of the neck and lifted it inside. It
writhed, and her grasp on it loosened.
She gasped.
“Don’t….”
The raccoon
dropped to her desk and shook its head. Whiskers twitching, it scuttled to her
abandoned luncheon tray and made free with a bit of toast.
About the Author:
Kirsten Weiss worked overseas for nearly fourteen years, in the fringes of the former USSR and in South-east Asia. Her experiences abroad sparked an interest in the effects of mysticism and mythology, and how both are woven into our daily lives.
Now based in San Mateo, CA, she writes steampunk suspense and paranormal mysteries, blending her experiences and imagination to create a vivid world of magic and mayhem. Kirsten has never met a dessert she didn’t like, and her guilty pleasures are watching Ghost Whisperer re-runs and drinking red wine.
Sign up for her newsletter to get a free copy of the full length urban fantasy novel, The Alchemical Detective, and updates on her latest work at: http://kirstenweiss.com
Twitter: @KirstenWeiss
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kirsten.weiss/
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