A Clockwork Heart by Liesel Schwarz Page A

workhouses for a small fee to their minders, who were only happy to be rid of a few more mouths to feed.
    These were the members of society that no one cared about. The ones no one would miss once they were gone. These were the people who would change the world forever.
    â€œLadies and gentlemen!” She spoke into the speaking tube that made her voice boom across the cavernous room. “You have been selected for a very special task. Today your meaningless lives will be transformed into something useful. You should be grateful for this gift!”
    The group of people before her looked around uncertainly, blinking in the bright lights that shone on them. Some of the women were crying and a few of the men who had not quite been subdued enough by the spark prods were still struggling with the shackles that held them.
    Clothilde held out her arms. The resonant notes of her voice filled the room and everyone turned to look up at her. She felt their awe as they took in the sight of her shimmering white resplendence and she smiled as she watched her magic take control of those before her. It did not matter if you were male or female, because very few people were immune to the magnetic power of seduction that her kind could wield.
    Electromancers entered from one of the side doors. Their grim faces contorted with anguish when she clenched her fist to tighten the spell that held them to her will. Their resentful acquiescence gave her even more pleasure. There would be no rebellion from these little men today. She would make sure of that.
    â€œBrothers in lightning! We have work to do,” she said.
    The electromancers turned to her and bowed. “We live to serve,” they said.
    â€œAs do we all!” she answered. It was the mantra these men had used for centuries. Along with the low humming song they sang while they worked.
    She gave the signal and in unison, the electromancers raised their arms in the air.
    â€œI give you the lightning you need!” she said.
    Outside, thunder rumbled and lightning cut through the sky, linking up with the fine metal rods posted across the roof like poisonous spines. The very air around the electromancers started crackling as they commenced with the ritual they called simply, “The Making.”
    Giant bolts of lightning struck the roof of the monastery.
    The monks started humming. It was a deep sound emanating from the back of their throats. Energy surged up through the metal pipes in the consul and into the gargantuan glass receptacles filled with blue spark that lined the roof of the building.
    â€œLet the production begin!” Clothilde gave the signal.
    The prisoners were now lined up in an orderly row. She pulled a lever and a row of what looked like black metal meat hooks started moving in a circular motion from an overhead trolley that fed into the machine. Her henchmen started attaching the straps and shackles that held the prisoners to the hooks. In some cases, where the prisoners were unshackled, they simply allowed the hook to catch on the flesh of shoulders and necks.
    In a swift move, each startled individual was hoisted in the air. A hot iron branded each arm with a number before they were laid flat onto the conveyor belt, ready to be fed into the machine. The air filled with the smell of blood and burning skin.
    A woman started screaming as the hook slipped into her shoulder.
    Clothilde braced herself for the sheer panic that invariably rose up from the floor at this point in the proceedings. She was the Lady in White. A witch; a ghost. That most malignant of beings that haunted men in their dreams. She could control lightning and storms followed her wherever she went. Standing at crossroads, her kind had seduced and enslaved the unwary for centuries. Gorging themselves on the life force, leaving only husks. But she was different. For Clothilde was ambitious and merely taking one or two victims at a time was not enough for her. So she had used her