“This is crazy,” Dirk said, hacking away the brambles that trailed between the statues. Life-sized courtiers, servants, and guards stood stiff and silent, recreations of humanity with enamel skin over brass flesh. “Who builds a clockwork palace just to let it get overgrown?”
His words, accompanied by a steady ticking of gears, echoed back from the vaulted ceiling on which figures from ancient myth had been painted, their faces concealed by centuries of cobwebs. Dirk wanted to wipe those cobwebs away and see the long-lost art underneath, but not as much as he wanted to see these statues in action. A thrill ran through him at the prospect of wonders no-one else had witnessed.
“Becoming overgrown was the point,” Sir Timothy Blaze-Simms said. “To embody the very essence of the fairy tale – a sleeping kingdom buried beneath the wild. Count Volkengrad meant to return after a decade and awake his porcelain princess with a kiss.”
With a click of gears, Blaze-Simms finished winding the mechanism inside a guard captain. He drew out the key, walked to the woodworm-riddled remnants of a bed, and knelt beside the figure who lay there, pale and dust-covered amid the rotten sheets. He brushed the dust from her neck, thrust the key into a hole by the collar bone, and started to wind.
“Then why’s she still here?” Dirk asked, dragging the last of the trailing plants away.
“Volkengrad caught a chill reenacting the emperor’s new clothes, came down with a fever and died. His descendants decided it was best to just fence off his fairy tale forest and pretend it never happened.”
Blaze-Simms withdrew the key from the automaton and stepped back.
“Now what?” Dirk asked, rubbing his hands together.
Blaze-Simms shrugged. “She should be waking up.”
“Don’t you need to kiss her?”
“I don’t see how saliva could help in any mechanical way.”
But the princess lay sleeping still, the intricate plates of her face inert.
Dirk leaned in and ran a hand across a cold cheek. She really was beautiful, the most perfect princess art could create.
“You do know that magic isn’t real, don’t you?” Blaze-Simms asked. “Kissing her won’t break some spell. One of the gears has probably just rusted in place.”
If Dirk knew one thing in life, it was that there were limits to scientific understanding. Maybe there was some kissing-based mechanism here and Blaze-Simms just didn’t know it. If that was what it took to wake the place up, then Dirk was willing to give it a go.
He ran a thumb across the princess’s cold lower lip. The metal gave way, there was a click, and she jerked upright.
Dirk leapt back, almost reaching for his pistol before his rational brain took hold.
“I say!” Blaze-Simms exclaimed. “Well done, old chap!”
Around them, whir of wound springs turned into a rattle of movement. Guards, servants, courtiers, every statue that Blaze-Simms had wound sprang into action, approaching the two adventurers with shuffling, mechanical steps. The statues opened their mouths and a terrible cacophony filled the palace.
“What is that?” Dirk asked, clamping his hands to his ears.
“I think they’re cheering!”
The princess approached Dirk, arms rigidly outstretched, lips parted, her once-beautiful face transformed into an uncanny imitation of human movement.
“No thanks,” he said. “You go find yourself a porcelain prince.”
But she kept moving, grabbing at Dirk’s arms with pinching metal fingers, trying to pull him close.
He backed away but she kept coming. The others were closing in too, surrounding him with a crowd of twitching metal limbs.
“Maybe this wasn’t the best idea,” Blaze-Simms said, glancing around.
“So now what?”
Dirk slammed into the nearest statue, a guard swinging an all too real halberd. The statue fell to the ground with a clang and he leapt over its prostrate form.
“Now we run!”
They dashed through the palace, followed by a cacophony of clattering and clanging. Dirk couldn’t tell if the statues were following, or if they had just fallen in a heap in the main chamber. He didn’t care, as long as he was clear of those strange and stumbling figures.
They emerged from the palace into the forest, where their horses stood tied to a tree. While Dirk looked back, watching for signs of pursuit, Blaze-Simms pulled out a notebook.
“What a marvellous place,” he said. “I wonder if I could replicate it.”
Dirk snatched the notebook and snapped it shut.
“Some things are best left to the imagination,” he said. “Just like fairy tales.”
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Dirk Dynamo is used to adventure. He’s chased villainous masterminds across the mountains of Europe, stalked gangsters through the streets of Chicago, and faced the terrible battlefields of the Civil War. But now he’s on a mission that will really shake his world.
For centuries, the Great Library of Alexandria was thought lost. Now a set of clues has been discovered that could lead to its hiding place. With the learned adventurers of the Epiphany Club, Dirk sets out to gather the clues, track down the Library, and reveal its secrets to the world.
Roaming from the jungles of West Africa to the sewers beneath London, The Epiphany Club is a modern pulp adventure, a story of action, adventure, and romance set against the dark underbelly of the Victorian age.