Ultimate Nyssa Glass H. Burke (bookstand for reading .txt) 📖

If Al told them half the things I did when I worked for him, chances are they’d lock me up right along with him.

“You sure?” He tilted his head. “Nyss, I’ve seen you face down monsters, and I’ve never seen fear in your eyes like when that man walked in.”

“Just bad memories and shock.” She picked up the spent zapper and placed it on his workbench. “I’ll be fine.”

He eyed her dubiously then flipped another switch, this time on the metal attached to his hip. The chair reformed beneath him.

“We don’t have any appointments today, do we?” he asked.

“No.” I would be happy if we had one this week, even. Sparks and shocks, I should’ve put the sign up earlier.

“Why don’t we shut down for the rest of the afternoon?” A ray of sunlight flooded through the windows, and Ellis’s eyes brightened. “The sun’s finally out. Let’s go for a stroll down the boardwalk.”

Nyssa smiled. She never tired of watching the waves wash the golden sands … or of seeing Ellis’s smile. “Maybe we could get a cherry ice at the little shop with the blue umbrellas?”

“Now you’re talking.” He grinned. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Three

The sun laced the retreating clouds with cotton-white edges. Nyssa inhaled the crisp, salty breeze wafting off the azure waves.

Ladies with white parasols and flowered hats strolled on the arms of gentlemen in suits complete with pastel cravats or ties and striped bands on their straw hats. The break in the clouds seemed to have drawn out every inhabitant of the island. Buskers played ukuleles and fiddles, and under a canopy a man wearing a beret offered to paint portraits. Gulls cried shrilly overhead, diving for bits of popcorn a sobbing child had dropped onto the wooden planks of the boardwalk.

Nyssa glanced self-consciously at her trousers and knee-high boots. Perhaps she should’ve changed out of her work clothes before they left. At least her gray peacoat was stylish. Ellis leaned forward in his chair, tossing bread crumbs to a pigeon. No one seemed to find him out of place in his unbuttoned vest and shirtsleeves—though most onlookers probably didn’t get past the elaborate workings of his self-propelled chair.

She sat on a bench beside his chair.

“On the way home we could stop at Pierre’s shop,” he commented.

Pierre? Do we know a Pierre? She quickly thought over the signs on Market Street. “Pierre … the gunsmith?”

“Yes. What happened today got me thinking. In ninety-nine percent of scenarios, I have enough brains to even the playing field, but when it comes to physical altercations …” His mouth twisted. “It killed me, watching you struggle in that brute’s hands without being able to help you.”

“You did help me,” she pointed out.

“Excuse me, miss.” Someone tugged lightly on her arm. A boy of perhaps eight in an over-sized jacket with patches on the elbows held out a pink silk flower. A basket filled with more fake posies hung from his arm. He had matted dust brown hair and big gray eyes. “Buy a flower?” He smiled a gap-toothed smile.

“Sorry, I don’t have any change.” She lowered her eyes, all too conscious of the pennies in her pocket.

“Here.” Ellis tossed the boy a shiny, silver coin. “I should buy you flowers more often.”

The boy caught the money, dropped the flower in Nyssa’s lap, and darted away to a grouping of young ladies and their beaus.

“You think you’re helping him, but I’d bet you anything he’s got a drunk father at home who wastes every cent that boy earns on gin.” Nyssa scowled.

Ellis rubbed the armrests of his chair. “So cynical.”

“I’ve been in that world. A few pennies won’t get a kid out of it.” She concentrated on the pigeons, trying not to think of her uncle.

“I suppose you have—I take it you don’t approve of me arming myself, either?”

“I don’t particularly like guns.” She shrugged. “Comes of being shot at once. Plus I worry you’ll shoot yourself, considering how you play with everything that comes into your hands.”

“I may seem careless, but that’s only because I’m confident in the tools I use, so I can afford to play. That doesn’t mean I don’t respect the destructive potential of devices. A gun’s a machine, and most machines can kill in the wrong hands.” He cleared his throat. “It was a horseless carriage, not a gun, that cost me my mobility.”

Nyssa’s eyes involuntarily darted to his motionless legs. “You … you’ve never really talked about that. So it was an automotive accident?”

“It was. Fairly straightforward, no one at fault. Bad weather and bad luck.” He shrugged. “Not really anything to talk about.”

“Who was driving?” she asked hesitantly.

“My father … Mom … they said her death was instantaneous. Touch and go for a few weeks for me, but I barely remember anything about recovery.”

Nyssa bit her bottom lip. Ellis’s father had shut himself and Ellis away after the accident. If he’d caused his wife’s death and his son’s injury, that explained his descent into madness.

I wish I could accept things the way Ellis can. My uncle’s choices cost me much less, and I don’t know if I will ever forgive him.

She leaned forward and touched Ellis’s hand. “If you want to arm yourself, I’m fine with that. What happened today with my uncle wasn’t your fault, though. You didn’t fail me.”

He picked up the silk flower and tucked it behind her ear. “There. That’s a pretty picture.” He smiled.

Nyssa sank into the dark brown of his eyes. The voices of the crowd and the crash of the waves faded to a gentle hum. A sigh escaped her lips as his hand squeezed her knee.

“Another flower, Mister?” A voice snapped her out of it.

“Huh?” Ellis looked up.

The flower seller was back, this time at Ellis’s arm and holding a full bouquet of his wares.

Ellis cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I’ve purchased my limit in flora for the day. Maybe another time?”

The boy stuck out his bottom