The Dragon Lantern Read Online Free Page B

things,” Hachi told him.
    The Dent family Tik Tok hurried across the lobby to welcome them back, and Archie smiled. Mr. Rivets was an Emartha Corporation Mark II Machine Man, the old brass kind that had to be wound with a key on his back and had interchangeable talent cards that let him do different specialized tasks. He was taller than the average person, weighed nearly a thousand pounds, and had a torso and head forged to look like a stout and redoubtable manservant, complete with riveted vest, tie, mustache, and bowler hat. He had been in service with the Dent family for nearly a hundred years, and had been Archie’s caretaker, guardian, and teacher his entire life. But more importantly, he was Archie’s best friend.
    â€œMr. Rivets!” Archie called. “We got it!”
    â€œI am relieved to hear it, Master Archie,” Mr. Rivets said.
    â€œWe never got a chance to use the gyrocopters though,” Fergus said.
    â€œI am relieved to hear that as well,” Mr. Rivets said.
    Hachi snickered, and Archie smiled.
    â€œI see how it is,” Fergus told them. “Laugh now. But one day one of my gizmos will save your life, and you won’t be laughing then. You’ll be saying, ‘Oy, Fergus, you’re a genius!’”
    One of the steam-powered, titanium Mark IV Machine Men who ran the front desk at the Cahokia Arms stepped into their little circle, and all three of the kids took a wary step back. They had had a bad experience with that model once and were still a little Mark IV–shy.
    â€œPardon me for interrupting,” said the Tik Tok in the singsongy, music-box voice all machine men had. A small rectangular plate hammered onto his chest said his name was Mr. Bell. “I have a pneumatigram for Miss Emartha.”
    â€œThat’s me,” Hachi said. She pulled off the combination oxygen tank/oil lamp/gyrocopter backpack she wore and pushed it into Fergus’s arms.
    Mr. Bell handed her the message. “And may I say personally, Miss, that it is an honor to have one of the Makers staying with us.”
    â€œUm, thanks,” Hachi said. Her father, Hololkee Emartha, had owned and run the Emartha Machine Man Company, as had generations of Emarthas before him. Now that her father was dead, Hachi owned it. She was a millionaire heiress, and wherever she went, Emartha Machine Men treated her like a god. It made her distinctly uncomfortable.
    Archie caught the Mark IV Machine Man by the arm before he returned to the desk, almost pulling him over by accident. The stunned Tik Tok took a moment to collect himself.
    â€œSorry,” Archie said. Sometimes he forgot his own strength. “Mr. Bell, could you send up to Mrs. Moffett’s room and ask her to come down and meet us, please?”
    â€œOf course, sir. Right away,” Mr. Bell said.
    â€œCrivens,” Hachi said, staring at the message. Hachi had taken to saying Fergus’s favorite meaningless epithet whenever she was truly surprised by something, which wasn’t too often. Whatever was in that pneumatigram must be earth-shattering.
    â€œWhat is it?” Fergus asked.
    â€œIt’s a message from the Pinkerton Detective Agency. I hired them to find Madame Blavatsky.” She looked up from the pneumatigram. “And they did.”
    â€œTwisted pistons,” Archie said. For most of her life, Hachi had searched for the identities of the people who had attacked her family’s village in Florida when she was an infant, killing her father and ninety-nine other men in some kind of ritual sacrifice that to this day no one could explain. The only person she knew for sure had been at the Chuluota massacre was the lektrical wizard Thomas Edison. He’d been her last and only clue, until something he’d said about “Batty” Blavatsky and Chuluota right before he died gave her new hope that she could eventually track down and punish all of her father’s