Chapter 18: A Blade Needs a Hand

Chapter 18: A Blade Needs a Hand

 The shipyard stood quiet under the full moon, its rows of dockyards bobbing gently against their moorings. A few lanterns burned low, their glow stretching shadows long across the wooden walkways.

Rufus led the trio, boots silent against the planks. He knew the night watchman—had for years. A few jokes, a couple of coppers, and just like that, they were in.

Getting through town had been just as easy. Both men, even Rufus when he was serious, knew how to keep a low profile.

Tonight, the devil himself would struggle to find them.

"Say nothing to the boy about this. He still needs time to settle. Knowing any of this won't help him."

Edmond's face was drawn, the weight of the day settling heavy in his shoulders. He knew this was riskier than it was worth, but what choice did he have?

No matter how Levi looked, he was still a kid.

A kid being hunted.

Moira studied him, her sharp eyes picking up what he wouldn't say outright. She'd known Edmond since the day he and Rufus came to Denton. It had been slow at first, but over the years, they'd built something steady. Trust. Understanding.

And if she was being honest, she couldn't think of a man more reliable.

Which, she had to admit, was both a blessing and a curse.

She sighed, shaking her head.

 "He'll need to know eventually, but I agree. It can wait."

Behind them, Rufus rolled his eyes.

'These two.'

He'd been watching it for years now. The glances. The awkward politeness. The forced drama. It tickled him pink at first. Now it was just plain annoying.

"Tell me, Sister. Can Sisters of the faith get married?"

Both Moira and Edmond flinched, coughing in unison, suddenly looking anywhere but each other.

Moira straightened her shawl, clearing her throat. 

"Of course not. We're married to the Lord when we take our vows. Very serious vows."

Rufus grinned, pleased as could be.

They moved in silence now, with Rufus still smirking like he'd won some prize, trailing behind them like a satisfied cat. It wasn't long before Edmond was knocking on the door to Maggie's shop.

Like history repeating itself, a sudden noise snapped them all to focus. This time, there wasn't any smoke—just a voice. Loud and sharp. And impossible to tell if it was good or bad.

Edmond knocked harder, tension creeping into his shoulders.

Then—Maggie's voice crackled over the speaker.

"Hold your horses!"

Her thick accent absolutely mangled the saying, and Rufus couldn't help but snort. The cross of his bow slid back into his arm as he relaxed. Edmond let out a heavy breath, stepping back to wait.

CLANK. CLANK.

The heavy locks slid open, and they stepped inside.

Moira's eyes swept the shop, locking onto Levi immediately. A wave of relief flooded her. He looked… better. Stronger.

Without hesitation, she crossed the room and took his wrist.

He stiffened. Whatever half-formed protest had been rising in his throat died the second her soft fingers pressed against his skin.

"You're lucky, my boy. You've a body built for abuse, it seems. Didn't expect ya to heal so fast. One of the worst infections I've seen in years, ya had."

"Sister Moira, welcome to my humble abode!"

 Maggie called out, arms wide, tone dramatically wounded. 

"Though, I am sad. So many times I ask, I beg! And yet, you come only for ze boy and not for me! How am I not to be 'urt by zis?"

Moira chuckled, turning to face her.

"You've my apologies, Maggie."

 She stepped forward, pulling the engineer into a brief hug. 

"My free time grows shorter by the day. But on my word, I'll make time soon to talk tech wit' ya."

Maggie huffed but didn't pull away.

 "Hmph. I will 'old you to zat."

Edmond, meanwhile, had already made his way to the workbench. Hat in hand, he took in the board, eyes scanning the designs.

"You two been busy. And what was that shout about before we came in?"

"Right? Damn near put a hole in your wall, Maggie." 

Rufus lit a smoke as he pulled up a chair. Kicking his boots up onto the worktable, he settled in.

 "How 'bout one of these times, you just open the door with a pleasant, 'Come on in'. Might do ya some good."

Maggie shot him a deadpan look.

"Visitors are not my, how you say… specialty. And stop smoking, you fucking chimney."

 "We were shoutin' 'cause we finally agreed on somethin'."

Levi cut in, impatience lacing his voice.

Rufus took a slow drag of his cigarette, blowing a perfect ring of smoke before grinning.

"And what's that?"

Levi met Maggie's eyes, both of them sharing the same wicked glint. He reached for the chalkboard, gripping the frame as he wheeled it into view.

Then—he stepped aside.

Moira's breath caught.

Rufus let out a low whistle, something dark and knowing in his eyes.

And Edmond—Edmond was starting to feel real tired.

But Maggie? She was too pleased with herself to notice any of them.

"I made what I said I would. This will finish 'is Vaporguard. I added a couple things—no biggie. And we 'ave also decided to follow ze original plans—or at least, what we think zey were."

Moira's head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing.

"What plans?"

Her voice was firm. Suspicious. The way she stared at the board—like something about it crawled under her skin—made Edmond's jaw set even tighter.

"To connect ze rest of his augments. We will start one by one. Muscles first. Ze overlay will provide balance—something most needed, no? To fight, to protect yourself—"

She was gone now.

Lost in the designs, speaking in that feverish way she did when her mind ran faster than her mouth. Levi had already figured out that when she got like this, talking to her was about as useful as trying to get a person to speak a language they didn't understand.

"What is this?"

Moira's gaze locked onto Edmond's, sharp and unwavering. She pointed at the chalkboard, her hand steady, her presence suddenly filling the space.

No softness. No hesitation. Just cold demand.

"I think it's time for some explanation. Because that—"

 She gestured toward the design, her voice turning razor-sharp

 "—does not look like hiding him."

Levi's jaw tightened. This stranger was starting to irritate him. What right did she have to judge?

"I take it you're the one who patched me up?"

Her eyes stayed on Edmond a moment longer before turning to him, bright green and piercing. He didn't like the way they made him feel—like he'd just been sat down for a talk he wasn't ready for.

"Aye. That was me. And I don't need no thanks for it."

"Good. Cause patchin' me up don't make you my mother. What I do with the shit they put in me is my own damn business."

"Ha!"

Rufus barked out a laugh before he could stop himself. He regretted it immediately.

The whole room went dead quiet.

No one moved.

Even Sister Moira didn't. But her eyes—her eyes stayed locked on Levi's, steady as a mountain.

Levi felt it then.

He didn't snuff out the fire. He lit it.

"The way you talk reminds me of someone. And it'd do you well to fix that."

Rufus caught that, his grin fading. He sat up straighter, scowling just a little.

Levi felt the weight of her stare settle on him fully. She was angry. Well not exactly. But there was no room for backtalk, no space to weasel out.

"Let me tell you this. Your damn business—whether it's yours or not—is not the issue. The issue is, if ya want this whole thing to work, ya need me. And ya need me somethin' fierce."

She took a step closer, not looming, just steady. Unshaken.

"So if you want your augments to bear the mark of the Church, I suggest you change that tone. Boy'o."

Levi swallowed.

Shrank just a little.

He didn't know it, not from the way he grew up, but this was something universal. Something all men learned, usually much younger.

Rare indeed is the boy who stands up to a grown woman like that—and gets away with it.

Levi had just gotten his first motherly scolding.

"Now, if you're done puffin' your chest."

Moira grabbed his hand again.

He stiffened. He meant to pull away—his brain yelled at him to move—but his body didn't listen. 

She led him to a bench, sat down with him like it was the most natural thing. 

She looked to the chalkboard. To Maggie. To Rufus and Edmond.

 Her movements were simple, but the air in the room shifted. 

Edmond had seen this before.

It was the frustrating reason words got stuck in his throat when he looked at her. The reason she had priests, soldiers, and cutthroats alike bending their ears when she spoke.

Moira was working.

And you couldn't convince Edmond the saints themselves wouldn't bend a knee to listen.

"I can see it. I can see your intent. And I see it 'cause I've met hundreds just like ya."

Levi swallowed.

Something was wrong.

His chest felt… strange. Tight, but not in an angry way. Looking at her was hard, but looking away felt impossible.

He wouldn't realize what that feeling was until much later.

It was shame.

"You're gonna run, aren't ya?"

His breath caught.

"Second things settle. Once this is all done, and you're tuned up. You're gonna run."

His hand—his whole damn body—felt hot. It wasn't until now that he realized his palm was slick with sweat, still wrapped in hers. He tried to pull away.

Her grip tightened.

"You don't have to answer. Like I said, I can see it. And I understand. So does Rufus. And so does Edmond."

She exhaled. Slow.

"Pain. Not the type that bleeds. The type that builds weight in your chest. A man always tries to run from it, not realizin' he carries it with him."

A heavy silence pressed down.

Rufus and Edmond shared a glance.

They felt it too. The burn in their chests.

Only difference was—they weren't confused by it. They knew their shame.

Maggie, though… she sat still, eyes wide, tears welling for reasons she didn't quite understand.

 Finally, Moira released Levi's hands. Gently.

She brought her own up, fingers flexing, moving like she was feeling something unseen. Her gaze was steady, knowing. Like she saw straight through him.

"We all carry a pain others can't see."

Then, with the soft hiss of vapor, her fingers began to shift.

Gears turned. Metal plates slid apart. Tiny tools and mechanical appendages unfolded from each digit, flexing, adjusting, a craftsman's hands built for something far more precise than violence.

"When I was a child in Ireland, mother raised me alone. Me father drank himself to death when I were three. So she turned to whorin'."

Her voice didn't change. No bitterness. No hesitation. Just facts.

"She caught somethin' nasty. Didn't take long 'till the Lord called her home. Nine years old, and I had no one."

Her augments folded back with soft clicks.

Hands, once unnatural, once foreign, now looked as they always had.

Whole.

'Didn't even notice.'

Levi stared at her hands. The 'skin' covering them moved naturally, seamless—too perfect. For the first time since he'd started taking pride in spotting augments, he'd missed one.

"Didn't take long before I was forced to steal to eat. Didn't take long to get caught either. And in Ireland, a t'ief gets one punishment. No matter their age."

A different fire began to burn in Levi's chest.

"I got me hands cut off for pinchin' a head of cabbage."

She reached forward, taking Levi's hand in hers again. This time, she took his blacksteel as well.

She sat for a moment, thumb running over the cold metal hand. But even through the steel, past the pain and rage, she could sense it—see it in the way he watched her hands.

This child still held warmth.

He thought to say something. Offer anything. But it was useless. Nothing came.

Luckily, she found the words for him.

"You don't have to feel bad for me. That loss brought me to the Lord, to my callin'. It's what set me on my path to Denton. It gave me the knowledge, the skills I needed to save your life. If anything—" she almost smiled, "—thank the farmer who caught me stealin'."

Her laugh was short, humorless. A joke she'd told too many times, worn thin from overuse, but she still liked it.

Levi frowned. His jaw tightened.

"Why are you tellin' me this?"

Edmond and Rufus glanced at each other. Their brows lifted, just slightly.

The kid's voice.

For the first time, there was no venom. No bite.

He sounded like a normal kid.

"Because I need you to trust me."

Her grip on his hands firmed.

"No—I need you to trust us."

She met his gaze, holding him there.

"I know you've been hurt beyond words. But we are here to help you, Levi. I can't do that, though, if it's just gonna lead to your death."

She gestured toward the blueprint on the board.

"If you want my help with that, I need the truth. No lies. No half-measures. Everything."

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle.

"We've come this far, and as the Lord is my witness, we'll see it through. But only if you trust us."

Her eyes locked onto his. Steady. Certain.

His throat tightened. Everything in him screamed to shut her out, to sneer, to spit poison just to keep her from looking at him like that. But something held him still. It wasn't just her voice. It was the way she looked at him—like she saw past the steel, past the scars. Like she saw the boy underneath. 

"Tell us your story, Levi."

And he hated it.