Chapter 7
DEATH CITY'S STEELHEARTS
by Shaula Gorgon
Despite the sudden stretch of cold weather, the love match between Lord Soul Evans and Miss Maka Albarn continues to heat up.
The newly engaged couple stole the show once again with their scandalous behavior and a glimpse of their forthcoming project at the second of Lord Featherstone's biannual balls, which is increasingly looking like the place for single, ambitious ladies to find a husband.
Multiple sources report that the newly engaged couple mostly kept to themselves in a dark corner of the ballroom during the beginning of the ball before being coaxed into dancing by Lord Featherstone himself. On the ballroom floor, it became clear as day that the pair had eyes for only the other and stared at one another unashamedly after the music ended, apparently seconds away from engaging in further indecent acts.
But it appears that the pair's focus was not all on pleasure. After their intimate moment on the ballroom floor, the couple simmered down and rubbed shoulders with the more elite invitees of the ball. In a clever if shameless move, Miss Albarn drew the attention of all by ripping off a gear from her dress, revealing it to be not merely a decorative piece of an otherwise plain dress but a prototype of her and Lord Evans' much-speculated project, prompting it at the hand of unseen technology to fly around the ballroom and bring drinks to Lord Featherstone's circle.
"It's unseemly behavior," commented Daisy Minxette, a fellow ball attendee. "But it's only what you expect from new money."
Mr. Featherstone, the couple's main benefactor, appears to think otherwise. "It's absolutely delightful to see a couple's love take on such tangible and creative form," he told the Daily Death. "I look forward to seeing the final product at the end of the year. Of course, if that coincides with any honeymoon plans, allowances could be made."
The couple, who have yet to give out any details for their upcoming wedding, refused to give comment or answer the Daily Death's questions on when the happy union will take place.
One can only wonder if this possibly spells trouble in paradise and whether this storm will affect the finishing of the couple's invention.
There was no way he could ever look Maka in the eye again, Soul thought as Wes finished reading the article aloud. Or anyone else who had read it, which seemed to be the whole of Death City judging by the stares they were getting from their fellow cafe goers.
The second floor terrace of the cafe outside of Maka's workshop was too close to the ground to make for a quick death, he decided. But it might be enough to induce a concussion and block out this whole memory.
His brother was happily oblivious to his anguish, folding up the newspaper and sighing ruefully. "I really do wish I had decided to go last night. There's never this much fun at the balls I attend."
"Maybe next time we'll swap places," Soul muttered. "You can go to the ball to be gawked at by strangers, and we'll go to the gambling dens to throw away all of our money."
Maka picked up the newspaper and spoke for the first time since Wes had interrupted their date.
(Rather, Soul liked to believe it was a date-in reality it was closer to a much-needed lunch break after working from dawn till noon had both of their stomachs growling louder than Steam Victor's engine.)
"Unseemly behavior," she mused as she perused the article, eyes narrowing more and more as her gaze traveled down the page. Soul's desire for the ground to open up and swallow him whole surged once more. "So the witch finally decided to come out in the open."
"Contemplating a murder now, are we?" Wes asked brightly. "I'd be more than happy to provide an alibi since we're to be family very soon apparently. When are the nuptials supposed to take place again?"
Soul found his voice. "If that's all you came for, you can leave now," he said, hurling a miffed glare his way.
Wes clapped a hand to his chest. "I could never leave my brother unchaperoned with his intended and I am only too happy to provide my services." He reached under the table and brought out the bag he had came carrying in. "Besides, I come bearing gifts."
He pulled out a slightly dented toolbox and placed it on the table. "Got it off from a merchant airship for extra cheap. There's some scratches here and there on the tools, but I think you'll find that every tool that's gone missing in there." To his sheepish brother he added, "I don't go to gambling dens to throw away money. What kind of fool do you take me for?"
"These are exactly what I need," Maka said, reaching out for the toolbox. She gave Wes an appreciative smile which sent a pang in Soul's chest that he quickly tamped down on. "There have been odd things happening in the workshop lately," she said as she examined a monkey wrench. "I keep on switching the locks to the shop but tools keep disappearing."
"Overly competitive rivals?" Wes suggested.
"Maybe," she replied. "But that wouldn't explain the note-" She cut herself off and threw a brief look at Soul, a faint blush rising on her cheeks.
"Note?" he repeated. "What note?"
"It was just before the ball," she said, still not meeting his eyes. "I found it on the shop's door when I opened up early one morning. We were preoccupied with the prototype and I didn't think it was something to be concerned about."
"What did it say?"
"It's nothing to worry about," she insisted, blush burning brighter.
Maka sighed in defeat after a minute of stubborn silence. "You'll get what you deserve soon," she said. "That's all that was written on there."
"And you think that is nothing to be worried about?" Soul asked incredulously.
"I think you're forgetting that Stein is my mentor," she retorted. "I can wield a screwdriver just as well as a murder weaponl."
"Screwdriver or not, there's no way you're going alone to the Cogs to pick up our Aurite order," Soul said.
"You can't come with me, you need to work on your part of the project. We're already behind schedule enough as it is," Maka argued, eyes flashing emerald. "I'll be fine."
"Why don't I go with you?" Wes suggested.
Soul's gaze flicked over to his brother. "What?"
"Why not?" He shrugged. "I've got nothing to do except watch our house fall more and more into financial ruin with each passing day so it'll be a nice break." He swept the bitterness out of his voice with an easy smile. "I'll make sure my future sister-in-law gets to and from her errand in one piece."
Soul gritted his teeth. "If you keep it up with those jokes, you won't have a future anything to worry about."
"Duly noted." Wes rose. "Well as fun as chatting with you is, it's time for me to go back to the real world and continue to stall on the papers to sign away the house."
"I suppose we should get back to work too," Maka said after Wes left. "We've still got a lot to finish before the day is over."
Soul stood. "Ready when you are."
The walk to the workshop is full of stilted exchanges and awkward silence, something that never existed between the two before, and filled Soul with a vexed glumness. Ever since "their intimate moment on the ballroom floor" at Featherstone's ball on Friday, there has been an odd tension hanging between Maka and him that halted the once natural flow of communication between them.
From the back of his mind, a voice from the back of his mind whispered that he was the one to blame and the pang in his chest twinged painfully again. He had been so sure that they had been running on the same wavelength that night, so certain that Maka was about to say she felt the same way that he obviously felt about her.
And then she had suggested they go find Featherstone, making it very clear that any real feelings in their artifice of a relationship are strictly one-sided.
It wasn't something Soul blamed her for in the least and he hadn't brought it up nor acted differently since then. But the self-doubt that resided in his mind, constantly gnawing away at his thoughts, had sent the idea running through his head that Maka had sensed he was about to confess and had distanced herself to gently let him was what killed him.
He could and would happily sacrifice his romantic feelings, but he refused to have their friendship be ruined.
And it was that thought that finally broke the hold doubt had on his voice as they rounded the corner to her workshop and came to the entrance. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Maka?"
"Yes?" She fiddled with her key ring, searching for the shop key.
"Why didn't you tell me about the note?"
Her hands stilled and she met his eyes. "Because-" She hesitated. "When I said it was nothing to worry about, I meant it was nothing I wanted you to worry about."
Soul stared at her in stunned disbelief for a moment before a surprised laugh escaped from his lips. He shook his head. "You're unbelievable sometimes," he said, turning to face her directly. "Maka, you're my friend. It's one of my duties to worry."
Her face reddened. "Well then, it's my job to worry about you not worrying," she countered, twisting her lips in a half-hearted scowl.
"Stubborn beyond measure too."
"You act like that's news," she replied with a roll of her eyes, going back through sifting through the keys. "Besides even if I had told you and someone came to steal our designs or worse, what would you have done?"
"I'd throw my chisels at them."
This prompted a laugh from her. "What?"
"The art of surprise," Soul said. "Everyone expects a gun or a knife but no one expects a chisel."
An amused smile played at her mouth. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."
"Excellent." A warm feeling bloomed in his chest at her smile. So long as he could continue seeing that smile, he'd be happy.
Maka unlocked the door and glanced back at Soul, smile still in place. "Now, let's get back to work."
