Chapter 20: Steel and Smoke

Chapter 20: Steel and Smoke

 Amongst the scattered wreckage of trial and error, surrounded by those who had survived their own private wars, Levi sat in silence. The burn in his eyes still bright.

It made it hard for Edmond to look at him.

So he kept his eyes down, focused on his hand—the one he was trying to keep still.

Moira didn't meet his gaze either, though for her, it was different.

She couldn't stop staring at his arm—the blacksteel, half-finished, a thing that shouldn't be. It wasn't just an augment anymore. Not to her. It was proof of something monstrous. Proof that the Church, her Church, had crossed a line that could never be undone.

A pit settled in her stomach. She hadn't realized it until now, but she was already past the point of no return.

Levi finally broke the silence.

"That's my story. Nothing special. Just waste and blood. So no matter what you think of me, whether you help or not—I'm gonna get what's owed. If I have to fight to the death to see it done, I've earned that."

Moira tore her eyes from his arm. Tried to find something—anything—to say. But the words wouldn't come.

Then, finally, she looked up—met his eyes.

And for some reason, they calmed her.

She took a slow breath. Let it settle in her chest.

'He's not a monster.'

She couldn't unravel now.

Not in front of him.

The boy wasn't asking for pity. He wasn't asking for prayers. He was daring them to turn away—to see him as something broken.

And that, she would not do.

Rufus broke the silence first, whistling low.

 "Damn, kid. If I didn't already know you were stubborn, I'd think you were carved outta iron."

He reached for his flask, then thought better of it, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

Maggie, on the other hand, had gone very still. Her usual manic energy dimmed, her hands idle—something rare for her. She stared at Levi like she was seeing him for the first time.

"Mon dieu…"

Sister Moira nodded.

Then she moved.

Before Levi could react, she reached out, pressing her hand flat against his chest.

He stiffened.

"Stop touchin' me—"

She didn't let go.

Instead, she leaned in, tilting her head until it rested against him, right over where his heart should be.

The room froze.

Rufus straightened so fast his chair nearly tipped. Maggie let out a half-choked noise, eyes wide as saucers. Edmond—well, Edmond just watched.

Levi, however, looked like he was about to short-circuit.

"Wh—What are you doin'?!" 

His body locked up, heat flaring through his face, but Moira didn't budge. Her eyes fluttered shut, fingers splayed lightly against his chest, feeling it.

The faint vibration. A steady, mechanical hum just beneath the surface, too precise, too measured. It wasn't a heartbeat. It was something else entirely—constant, tireless, unnatural.

Yet… it was strong.

She listened. Felt it. Breathed with it.

She pulled back, eyes still closed, her expression unreadable. But there was peace.

"It's beautiful."

Levi's brain stalled.

He couldn't process what just happened.

All he knew, was that he liked it.

And hated it.

Which meant he really, really hated it.

"No more touchin'! Can't think straight when you do that. You're too pretty!"

All four of them instantly reacted.

Edmond cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in the blueprints. Rufus nearly choked on his own spit. Maggie, bless her heart, looked like she might faint. And Moira—Moira blinked, utterly bewildered.

Levi, oblivious to his own blunder, tugged his shirt straight and stepped back, putting distance between them.

"Now, I did what you asked. Didn't lie once, either. So can we get on with this? Feels like it's gettin' real stuffy in here."

A soft chuckle broke through the awkward silence. Moira, cheeks still tinged pink, straightened her posture.

"Yes, ya have my blessin'. But it comes with one more condition."

Levi narrowed his eyes. 

"What's that?"

She knew it couldn't be done in a single night. Even if time allowed, one evening wouldn't be enough. The boy needed more than just repairs, he needed healing of the soul as well.

"You will attend church."

"Hell n— I mean, no way. I refuse—"

"He'll go."

Edmond's voice cut through, flat and final. He stood, shooting Levi a look that brooked no argument. 

The protest in Levi's throat was rising hot. He had half a mind to fight Edmond on it, to argue, to dig in his heels just on principle. But then—what was the point?

'They can't make me go. I'll just agree now and won't show up.'

Simple as that.

So instead of biting back, he let out a sharp breath through his nose, shoving his hands into his pockets. Fine. Let them think they won.

Across from him, Edmond didn't press further, just gave a small nod before shifting his focus.

"Since that's settled, how about this—Sister Moira needs to get back before long. She can inscribe a few pieces of steel now, and Maggie can work with them later."

Maggie practically exploded out of her seat.

"Zat would work! I have some perfect pieces for ze job!"

Clap!

Rufus grinned, pulling out his flask.

"Well, hot damn! Seems we got ourselves an agreement. How 'bout we celebrate with a proper—"

He stopped short, his words dying as he caught the collective deadpan stares aimed his way.

He sighed, tucking the flask back into his coat.

"Borin' bastards."

And so it was settled.

Moira began her work in silence.

Levi watched as her fingers shifted, tiny mechanisms unfolding. A fine chiseling tool extended from her index finger, glowing faintly as she pressed it to the blacksteel plates Maggie had laid out. Slow, precise, she carved the Church's sacred markings, each stroke deliberate, each movement steady.

Levi didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't this.

The sight of her hands—hands that had once been taken from her—now shaping something meant to disguise him, to shield him… it settled in his chest like a weight he didn't know how to carry.

He didn't like the feeling.

Didn't like the quiet pull of protectiveness curling in his gut, like some stubborn part of him wanted to reach out and stop her. As if this act, this etching, might somehow take something more from her.

But she didn't hesitate.

Didn't falter.

As Moira wiped the last traces of metal dust from her fingers, she looked at Levi one final time. The glow from her augments faded, but her gaze held steady—firm, but not unkind.

"Your past doesn't have to be a chain 'round your neck, but ya best learn to face it. Otherwise, it'll pull ya where ya don't want to go."

She gave a small smile, then stepped away, nodding to Edmond and Rufus before heading for the door.

And then they were gone.

The shop felt different now. Quieter. Like something had been stripped away, leaving only what mattered.

Maggie dusted off her hands, stretching her arms with a grin as she turned back to him.

"Now, mon garçon, we truly begin."

----

The night stretched quiet as they walked out of the shipyard. Moira kept her shawl pulled tight, moving between them like a ghost. Edmond and Rufus flanked her, their pace measured, eyes sweeping the streets without thought.

They stuck to the back roads, slipping through Denton's quieter paths, where the lantern light didn't reach. 

It didn't take long for the cathedral to rise ahead, its stone's bathed in moonlight. They didn't head for the main entrance. Instead, Moira led them around the side, where a narrow passage ran between the walls. 

A small door waited there, its iron handle cold in the night air.

Moira reached for her keys, but Edmond's hand came down on her wrist before she could turn the lock.

"Don't dig in to this."

She didn't fight him. Just met his gaze, her own sharp, but not defiant. She'd known this was coming.

"I know."

Edmond held her stare a moment longer, then let her go.

"Make sure you keep to that. I... We'd hate to see something happen."

Moira exhaled, looking at the door. 

"Aye. I know that too."

She turned the key, the lock clicking open. Before stepping inside, she hesitated, glancing back.

"You keep that boy alive. No matter what's comin'."

Edmond gave a slow nod. 

"That's the plan."

Satisfied, Moira stepped inside, the heavy door closing behind her with a dull thunk.

Edmond stared at it for a moment, something unreadable in his eyes.

Then he turned.

 "Let's go."

 "Finally. Thought ya might start preachin' next."

Edmond didn't answer. He just pulled his hat low and started walking, disappearing back into the shadows with Rufus at his side.

The night pressed in heavy as they walked, boots scuffing against the dirt. Denton's streets were quiet, most folk tucked away, the world settled into the kind of stillness that let a man's thoughts creep in whether he wanted 'em or not.

His mood soured with every step.

Rufus, ever the opposite, shoved his hands in his pockets, whistling some off-key tune, letting the silence stretch just long enough to be unbearable.

Then—

"Well, off to see the ladies."

Edmond didn't respond, didn't even look his way. Just kept walking.

Didn't matter. Rufus peeled off without another word, boots clicking sharp as he veered toward the saloon. Didn't even glance back.

Edmond kept moving.

The orphanage sat dark and still when he reached it. A soft clop-clop of hooves met him as Diego stepped forward, ears flicking up in greeting. The old donkey let out a quiet snort.

Edmond raised his hand.

Diego stopped.

Lowered his head, ears drooping, then shuffled away.

But Edmond's hand, it was shaking.

Jaw tight, he let it drop to his side and pushed forward. The wooden steps creaked under his weight, he barely lifted his head as he pushed through the front door.

He made his rounds quick, stepping through the halls, eyes sweeping over the sleeping children. Each breath, each quiet shift under blankets, counted in his head.

All accounted for.

He let out a breath that didn't ease a damn thing and headed for his room.

Once inside, he shut the door.

Then locked it.

The shaking was worse now. His fingers twitched, his wrist buckling, his whole arm tingling like it was filled with broken glass. Sweat gathered at his brow.

Then the heat came.

A phantom thing, licking at his skin.

His breath shortened.

The scent followed—fire, burnt flesh, smoke thick enough to choke.

Screams.

Shouts.

His stomach turned. He stumbled to his desk, fumbling at the cabinet. The latch stuck for half a second too long, his nerves making a mess of it. When it finally clicked open, his fingers barely found purchase on the case inside. The case he'd picked up from the Gilded Spur the day they'd met Levi.

He set it down, flipping it open.

Glass tubes lined up in perfect rows, the contents catching the dim light—silver pebbles, smooth and glistening.

His hands weren't working right. Took him too long to pluck one out, his breath uneven as he dropped it onto the desk.

The drawer slid open next, revealing an ornate ivory pipe.

With effort, he steadied himself enough to pack it, snapping his fingers for a flame. The pipe lit with a soft glow.

He took a long, shaky drag.

The world dulled.

His arm stilled.

The screams faded...

And the fire with it.