34

A ll right, everyone." Graham held up his palms. "Let's distract ourselves with something else for a while until we calm down enough to think."

"Like what?" Philippa asked.

Elizabeth's eyes shone. "Stephen has gifts!"

"Gifts?" The siblings looked at one another.

Stephen swallowed his nervousness.

Elizabeth beamed at him. "They were meant to be a surprise, but… What better souvenir than to take home the very weapons used to defeat an obnoxious enemy?"

"Again," Philippa murmured. "The idea is to settle the matter of property ownership without the grounds coming under enemy fire."

"Bah." Elizabeth shooed this objection away and hooked her arm through Stephen's. "Where's the fun in that?"

Tommy jumped to her feet. "I want to see the devices."

"Follow me." Stephen led them to the converted parlor that now contained several fully assembled machines.

"Ooh," said Tommy. "That one looks like… a complicated guillotine?"

"That's for Marjorie and Adrian," Elizabeth said with obvious pride.

Stephen's heart warmed.

"And this one looks like…" Tommy stroked her chin, then squinted. "It seems to be…"

"It's for Jacob," Elizabeth blurted out before Stephen could explain the machine. "It's a kitten dispensary!"

"A what ?" All the siblings gathered round at once.

Stephen cleared his throat. "Actually, it's more like a mechanical nanny."

After Stephen explained how the machine worked, Jacob placed Tickletums on the petting platform and pressed the button. The hedgehog immediately slid down a chute, out of the machine, and into his waiting arms.

Jacob grinned. "I adore it and cannot wait to test every feature."

"You might not have to wait long," Adrian said. "Reddington seems the sort of chap who deserves a snake to the thigh or a hawk to the head."

"Somewhere other than the head," Marjorie told him. "Our guillotine will take care of his neck."

"It's not a guillotine." Stephen motioned them over to the next machine. Marjorie watched him closely. "This one is for you and your husband both. It's a three-sided easel—"

"But there are four sides," said Adrian.

"Only three of which are easels," Marjorie retorted. "The fourth is probably a tiger launcher. Pay attention."

"If you're working on a piece that is not yet ready for public consumption, you simply press this lever, and…"

He pointed.

Marjorie grinned and pushed the lever. The machine instantly whirred into motion, gears spurring weights that moved pulleys that released a thick sheet of metal, fully obstructing the sketchbook from view in a matter of seconds.

Wooden slats tumbled into place along all four sides, hiding not just the canvas, but the machine itself. It now appeared as innocuous as a simple wooden crate.

"That shield isn't going anywhere," Elizabeth told Marjorie. "It looks ordinary, but I couldn't move those slats even using a crowbar as leverage."

"Your machines are a true marvel," Adrian said. "What does the fourth side do?"

"Protects you." Stephen reset the machine to its original presentation. "This lever launches the emergency detonation sequence."

Marjorie's eyes widened. "What gets detonated?"

"Everything," Elizabeth said with satisfaction. "The machine self-destructs, sending its pieces flinging off in all directions like the world's largest grenade."

"Almost all directions," Stephen corrected her. "The fourth side is reinforced with metal for safety, and is not in the line of fire. It is the other three directions which are showered with shrapnel."

"Oh, Mr. Red-ding-ton," Marjorie sang. "Do come out to play. I have a lovely painting to show you."

Adrian mimed holding up a large speaking trumpet. "That's ‘His Grace' to you, missy."

Marjorie pretended to press the lever. "And… boom ."

"No murdering," Jacob scolded them all.

"Only as a contingency," Elizabeth and Kuni chorused in unison.

"What about Tommy and me?" Philippa asked, forgetting her earlier hesitation. "Is ours just as practical and deadly?"

"If practical-and-deadly is the game, I think you will be pleased." Stephen led her to the next machine. "If you'll take a look over here…"

The Wynchesters followed him eagerly.

Stephen could not quite name the warm feeling spreading throughout his chest. For his entire childhood and youth, his machines had been a guilty secret. He'd been punished, berated, mocked, snubbed. Until he no longer attempted to share that part of him at all. Not publicly, at least. When he reached adulthood, he began to sell his lesser inventions—a rolling valve here, a life raft there—and built his machines in solitude. Did everything in solitude. Day after day, year after year.

Until Elizabeth.

He had been terrified to show her this part of himself. And couldn't quite believe his fortune when she not only accepted his passion without hesitation, but also seemed to think his unusual quirks were the best thing about him. And now, she was not the only person in his life who looked at his machines—looked at him— and saw someone worthy, rather than worthless.

The Wynchesters were indeed special. Individually unique, yet part of a cohesive whole capable of seeing potential and intrinsic value where others did not. No wonder they were such a force to be reckoned with. Hope filled Stephen's chest.

If anyone stood a fighting chance against an army, it was the group of tight-knit siblings right here in this room.