Shanna Swendson - Rebel Mechanics

The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal use only. You may not make this e-book publicly available in any way. Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the authors copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.

For all the people who were instrumental in the very long journey from idea to publication:

Michael and Angela
for brainstorming and antique show browsing

Mom , Debbie , and Jenny
for the reading and helpful feedback

My agent, Kristin Nelson ,
for never giving up (and not having to eat her hat)

And my editor, Margaret Ferguson ,
for forcing me (sometimes kicking, screaming, and pouting all the way) to make the book the best it could be

This novel is a work of alternate history that explores what might have happened if something in our countrys history had been different. What if the colonies had never gained their independence and the British continued to rule? What if that ruling class had magical powers?

That would have changed a lot of things, including technology, industry, and the social order. And many other things might have been different. For instance, Great Britain abolished slavery in 1833, and if the American colonies had still been part of the empire, there might never have been the need for the Civil War. The pattern of westward expansion might have changed as well, altering relationships with the native peoples.

With magic in the mix, some technologies might have come later or never been developed at all, while others might have been ahead of their time. If magic provided the power for all industry and technology, common people would be dependent on the magical classes for their livelihood and survival.

But there are other forms of power, like steam and electricity, and if people could learn about and make use of this power, they might have a way to fight against the magical classes and gain their freedom from the British.

New York City
1888

If Id let myself think about what might lie ahead for me, Id have been terrified. So, instead of thinking, I lost myself in the book Id bought at the train station newsstandthe kind of pulp novel Id have had to hide behind a copy of The Odyssey if Id still been at home in New Haven. Now, though, I could read what I wanted without my father having any say in the matter. My life had improved in that way, at least.

Although the motion of the train made it difficult to keep the paperback book steady, I defiantly held it with the lurid cover clearly visible as I read about a daring gang of bandits terrorizing stagecoaches. I was so engrossed in the story that when I heard a sharp noise and raised voices, I initially mistook it for my imagination bringing the story to life. Then I looked up to see a group of masked, gun-wielding men rushing through the connecting doorway at the front of the car. A thrill shot through me. I had told myself my life would be more exciting beginning today, but I hadnt really believed it. I picked up my bag and dropped the book into it so I wouldnt miss a thing.

Seal the door! the tallest bandit ordered, and one of the masked men turned to throw the latch. He held his hands over it, and I thought for a moment that I saw a shimmer beneath them. A shiver went down my spine, making me gasp. Could that have been magic? No, I decided, only the magister class could use magic, and that class held most of the property in the British Empire and controlled the magical power that ran all industry, even here in the American colonies. Magisters shouldnt need to rob trains. When I looked again, the shimmer was gone. I must have imagined it.

While the man whod sealed the door stood lookout, the tall bandit whod shouted the order strode up the aisle, heading toward the rear of the car where I sat. Abruptly, he stopped and raised his pistol at a man sitting three rows ahead of me. Ill take that, he said in a soft but firm voice as he grabbed a slim black leather case the man held in his lap. The man clung to his case, and it looked for a moment as though he might put up a fight, but the bandit cocked his pistol with his thumb and held it closer to the mans face. The man released his hold on the bag. The bandit gave him a disconcertingly polite nod as he lowered the gun and took the case. He then continued up the aisle, seemingly unaffected by the swaying motion of the train as it slowed to round a bend.

He stopped directly in front of my seat, and I gripped the handles of my bag as my heart beat wildly. The bandit stood so close to me I could see his eyes through the slits in his mask. They were an icy, pale blue, hard and cold, with little flecks of gray around the pupil and a band of darker blue around the outer edge of the iris. I had never met a killer, but based on every novel Id read, that was how I imagined a killers eyes would look.

When the bandit stepped toward me, I reacted instinctively. I rose to my feet, swung my bag at him, and then felt the shock go up to my elbows when I connected with his head. He staggered backward, and I felt light-headed as my breath came in shallow gasps. I shrank away, fearing retribution.

Instead of being angered by my assault, he smiled wryly and holstered his gun. The smile made his eyes look much less icy and hard. With a slight bow, he said, My apologies, miss. I did not intend to alarm you.

Theyre coming! the lookout called from the front of the car. Hurry!

My bandit glanced over his shoulder to see the railroad guards attempting to open the locked door, then returned his attention to me. And now, if you will excuse me, I need to make use of your seat to reach that hatch. I followed his eyes upward to see a hatch in the cars ceiling, directly above me. The bandit put the case hed taken on the seat near me, stepped onto the seat, placed his hands against the hatch, paused for a moment, and pushed. The hatch flew open, sending a gust of wind rushing into the car and jolting me back against the window. I worried my hat would fly off, but I was too afraid of letting go of my bag to secure my hatpin. Its open, come on! the bandit shouted to the others as he climbed down.

The rest of the gang ran toward us, and I clutched my bag against my chest as, one by one, they jumped onto the seat and hoisted themselves through the hatch onto the roof of the car. A couple passed heavy-looking sacks up to other gang members before climbing after them. When the others had all gone, the bandit Id hit reached for my gloved hand and brushed my knuckles with his lips, whispering, I hope the rest of your journey goes smoothly, miss, before he climbed onto the seat, passed the stolen case up to a colleague, then pulled himself through. The hatch closed behind him with a clang and the car instantly grew quieter.

Breathless and quivering, I sank slowly onto my seat, resting my bag on my knees. I absently rubbed my left thumb across the knuckles of my right hand, where the bandit had kissed me. It was the first truly romantic thing Id ever experienced.

The guards finally made it through the door, and they ran down the aisle. The man whose bag had been taken leaped out of his seat to accost them. I am a courier on official business for the Crown, and those bandits took my case of priority dispatches! he shouted, his mustache bristling in fury. I expect better protection than this when I travel! The other passengers joined in, adding their complaints at high volume.