Hearts of Smoke and Steam Read Online Free PDF

off the padlock keys, letting them clatter onto the table one by one.
    When she had cleared them off the ring, Sarah closed it up again and opened the door. Grieves was standing right outside, and she was startled slightly to find him staring directly at her. “Here you go, Mr. Grieves.”
    He closed one eye so that he could get a better look at what it was that she had just handed to him. “You've stolen my…”
    Sarah gave him a glare, and he scowled in return. “God will damn you for your wicked ways, Susan Standish.”
    Sarah tried not to smile when he said the false name she now lived under. She was fairly sure that pretending to be someone else was a damnable offense all by itself. But she had been to church often enough to know that no matter how grave her offenses, redemption still remained open to her.
    “Give them back,” Grieves said, holding up the ring and dangling it at her.
    “I know that there are other girls in this building who would be equally upset to discover that Mrs. Brooks had an attack of extreme piety in the name of profit. I'm keeping them safe so she won't have to embarrass herself with an explanation.” The shocked look on Mr. Grieves's face was, she had to admit, rather gratifying.
    He stared at her, and then turned around. “Hellion, sinner,” he muttered to himself. “Whore!” he spat out loud enough for her to hear. “We'll see what's what!”
    “That's as may be,” she yelled after him, “but I'd better not find another lock on my door when I return, or I'll be coming after you for those keys as well.”
    Sarah shut the door and slid the bolt closed. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, almost as forcefully as it had been after she'd faced Lord Eschaton and her father in the park.
    She reached into her bag and pulled out the battered copy of the Louisa May Alcott book she had purchased from a street vendor on her way home. It was one she had read previously, and not one of her favorite stories, but at least it was something familiar, with a simple, bright view of the world that she could most definitely use at that moment.
    “And the sun is still out,” she said to herself as she opened the book and sat down in her kitchen chair. She might as well relax when she could. After all, tomorrow had every chance in the world of being worse than today.

 
    A lthough Nathaniel had already been somewhat impressed by the drawings and photographs that had accompanied his application, seeing King Jupiter in the flesh was still something to behold. The man was not only staggeringly tall, standing a few inches over six feet, he was also massive. His body seemed to have been constructed from something even more dense than flesh.
    The costume that he wore was primarily purple, sewn from finely spun silk that had been woven with a golden thread that seemed to shimmer even in the cloudy light. The main portion of it had been constructed to form a single piece that buttoned down the back and sides in a close-fitting manner, along with a series of straps and panels that gave the whole thing a slight Oriental feeling as well.
    The front was low cut, clearly intended to show off the muscles of his physique. They were insanely large, built up to almost comical proportions. At the neck, a collar sprouted up and back, circling his head in a manner that mimicked the hopelessly old-fashioned Regency style. But beyond that, it was covered with some kind of rich animal fur, and it gave him a sort of lion's mane, making him appear almost ludicrously regal.
    As if that wasn't enough, sitting on the top of his head was a golden circlet, clearly intended to be a crown. Hanging down in front of it was a mask, also formed from gold, that completely covered his face. And at the bottom of it, carved into the metal, were rows of stylized ringlets. Nathaniel recognized them from ceremonial beards that had been used to denote royalty in ancient Mesopotamia. He had seen them when Mr. Stanton had taken him and