A light fog slithered across the London Harbor, flattening and dispersing along the streets. The roads were empty, save for a few festively dressed individuals headed for Hobb’s Mansion, the premier place for lavish parties. The fog twisted around their heels, flying up into the dark to combine with smoke from the houses and machines-the few autos, the clock, the factories, and the small, bronze robots that tooted steam every now and then.

The shops near the harbor were closed, blinds shut tight. A few blocks from Hobb’s long, winding driveway, the Red District came alive, flashing lights that promised company, stalls filled with any food imaginable, bars and exotic boutiques, and dark, blindingly dark alleyways.
Nighthawks, the common, universal name given to those who enjoyed the night, didn’t mind. Accustomed to the dark, they perused the Red District for something new, because there was always new, and occasionally attended Hobb’s parties. The others stayed clear, to the North Street, alight as far down as the street would allow, because London nights never promised safety.

As it were, those festively dressed and making haste to Hobb’s party that began promptly at eight, were following North Street and up, up, up to Hobb’s Mansion at the top of the hill.
Cambrian watched, hidden by the bricked corner of Lou’s Tavern & Grub, idly scratching his long, blackened, and gnarled fingers over the hard surface. He was sharpening his nails, waiting for his friends to arrive.

There was Eustus, his second in command, face half covered by a mask, hiding away his magnificent, abnormally large teeth, much like the monsters Cambrian adored as a child. Eustus was a man of few words, but Cambrian knew his friend was the smartest of them all.

Then there was Maven and Ralph. Sweet Maven with no ears and Ralph missing an eye. They hid their defects well and Cambrian was proud they did so. Finally, there was Marigold. Cambrian paused in thought, straining to hear a bird call over the noise of the Red District. Inspecting his nails, he returned to musing.

Pretty and young Marigold. Lovelier than all the women, Cambrian had come to lover her as a sister. Her ringlet hair, her beauty, her cleft lip. Cambrian frowned at the thought of her having to cover her cleft. She wore makeup so well, too.

His concentration was broken by a loud, whooping bird call. He turned to his left to see Eustus dropping from a building, gripping a burnt piece of paper. Maven and Marigold landed effortlessly, dresses billowing around their knees. Ralph brought up the rear, cradling his hands. Cambrian beamed when they neared.
“Jolly! I trust ever’thing went well?”

Marigold flung herself onto his side. “Oh yes! A trio of women from France. Poof! Up they went in flames.” She paused to laugh, Maven’s high giggle following. “We gots lots and lots of pearls and diamonds, Cambrian! Eustus promised we could keep them if Maven and me did good.”
Cambrian’s face brightened. He gently pried Marigold from his body, commenting as he did so. “Is that right? Show and tell Eustus.” He held out his hand, palm up and open. Eustus stepped closer and handed the paper over. He pulled his mask down to speak.

“Aye. ‘Adies did ‘ood. Ralph dun burnt ‘is hand.” Eustus’ face twisted into a snarl and his teeth bit down, breaking the skin and causing him to bleed. He quickly wiped the blood away, smearing a stain on his trousers.

Cambrian’s face mirrored Eustus’. He turned to Ralph, tapping his cane on the ground, crushing the paper in his fist. “You get a little too excited, Ralph?” Ralph flinched but nodded. “An’ now you got a burn. Feel good, Ralph?” He shook his head and blanched when Cambrian tried to get closer. Ralph’s face paled. Voice shaking, Scottish undertones pushing through his British slander, he replied.

“No sir. Countermashious to what you a knowin’, one of them lass’ grabbed my hand while she was a burnin’. Got caught in the excitement ‘tis all. Promise.” Cambrian looked at his friends, eying them skeptically.

“He telling the truth?” Three heads nodded. Cambrian relaxed, patting Ralph on the shoulder and enunciated every word with a stab of his finger. “Always. Stand. Back. Not telling you a second time round.” He glanced over his shoulder at the lights of the Red District, jabbing his chin toward the busy street. “Go get that looked at.”
When Ralph and Maven were out of site, running off for a hospital, Cambrian opened the crumbled paper.


Cambrian laughed when he reached the bottom, a crude drawing of bat-like people attacking Nighthawks on the street. “Jolly! They’ve no idea who we are. Splendid. We’ll feast tonight. But first,” He crumpled the paper and tossed it over his shoulder. “We attend Hobb’s party.” Checking the time, he started for the street, not bothering to see if Marigold and Eustus were following. “Come along! Send Spots for Maven and Ralph. We cannot be late.”

He set a fast pace, weaving in and out of passerby. Margold whistled and Spots, a trusty robotic bird, landed on her shoulder. She cooed at her pet, stroking the metal lovingly. “Go get Maven and Ralph. Bring them to North Street.” Spots fluttered off. Marigold ran to catch up to Cambrian.

She founds Eustus leaning against a counter, Cambrian thanking a woman and holding a steaming package. Eustus waved her over. Peeking over Cambrian’s shoulder, her stomach jumped with want at the cinnamon rolls nestled on a red cloth. “Can I have one?” Cambrian sniffed and held the treat out of the way.
“I’ll have you know these are mine. I took the liberty to order you some though. Don’t keep the Madam waiting.”

Delighted, she took the offered teats and popped on into her mouth. They were off again, Cambrian tearing small bits of cinnamon roll and handing them to Eustus to eat. When they neared North Street, Marigold flipped the collar of her dress up, effectively hiding her cleft. Cambrian licked his fingers and pulling out a pair of gloves, slipped them on.

Maven and Ralph arrived halfway to Hobb’s house, panting from the run over. Ralph’s hand was bandaged nicely. Cambrian inspected the job, nodding his approval “Feelin’ better I suppose.”
Ralph didn’t comment, scratching at his palm instead. “S’posin’ I do feel a wee bettah.” Dropping his arm, Ralph followed Cambrian’s lead up the road, hissing in pain when Marigold slid her hand into his, Maven holding the other. Marigold leant her head on his should and lamented,
“Poor Ralph.”

Maven echoed, wrapping her arm around Ralph’s elbow.
“Poor Ralph. Hurtin’ bad. Hurtin’ bad.” The girls walked in anguished silence, fussing over Ralph, whose eyepath gears were spinning wildly from the attention of two girls.
Cambrian, contently stuffed from his favorite treat, watched them with disgust. “Nothin’ but saps. Not splendid at all.” He was outright ignored. Eustus squeezed Cambrian’s shoulder for comfort. When he spoke, his voice was muffled by the mask. Cambrian could smell the cinnamon on his breath.
“Dun mind ‘em. Hobb’s party’ll ‘elp yah.” He supposed his friend was right. He could practically feel the smile Eustus was sure to be sporting.


Hobb’s mansion could only be described as priceless art. Born in the early years, Howard Hobb was a pioneer in mechanics, designing most of the town as a young man. In later years, he built his mansion, a massive structure ornately decorated.

Carved creatures of stone hung at the corners, intricate scenery on the walls and metal, huge shining metal, powered the doors and windows. Inside was even more garishly put together, clocks and robots on many surfaces. But the most amazing, in Cambrian’s opinion, was the flying lanterns, changing color on the mood. He had asked Hobb the secret to this one, but the man had said they were mere machines. Cambrian thought otherwise, but had kept his mouth shut.
Walking through the threshold, he gazed at the ceiling, lost in the wonderful, flickering light. Marigold tugged his arm, pink lighting turning her otherwise yellow tinted skin a nice shade of orange. He looked down at her, annoyed at being pulled away from his favorite toy. He snapped at her, not caring when her face pinched in shame.
“Whas so important? Cantya see I’m busy?”

Marigold smoothed her hair. “Hobb’s wants to talk to you an’ Eustus.” Cambrian sighed, but left the lanterns in search of Hobb, Eustus trailing behind and scowling at all the smiling faces.
Cambrian would have to remind him to be polite when in public, later. Now, he was focused entirely on navigating the towering hallways nearly bursting with people. When they were free of confines and stepping into the ballroom, Cambrian spotted Hobb. The man was shouting in glee holding a glass of wine, goggles whirring in motion.

Poor fellow, Cambrian thought, going to have a bonker hangover in the morn. Hobb shouted louder when he noticed Eustus and Cambrian. The small crowd around him cheered, too drunk to fully understand what for. A robot appeared out of the crowd, offering them drinks. Cambrian carefully sipped his. Better not to get drunk early.

Hobb jumped off the table he had been occupying and shouted, “M’boys! Glad you could make it! Bloody fun we’re having!” Cambrian was engulfed in a hug, Hobb slobbering over his neck. He repeated the act with Eustus. When Hobb was busy with Eustus, Cambrian wiped his neck with a grimace, but smiled when Hobb stood back to admire them, stumbling over his feet. He too a hearty drink and slurred, “Ye look good. Such as proper boys should Wishin’ I was a youngin’”
Cambrian waved him off.

“Nonsense! You’re a healthy-” He faulted. How old was Hobb? The man laughed in Cambrian’s face, flecks of spit hitting his skin. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop from shoving Hobb out of the way. Sometimes the old man could be disgusting.

Instead of turning to anger, Hobb continued to laugh. “A healthy sixty to me!” He held his glass up in a toast. The small crowd around them rose their glasses. Eustus eagerly rose his, slipping his mask off, downing the liquor in one gulp. Begrudgingly, Cambrian tipped his glass in a solute, deciding that whatever Hobb had wanted them for could wait. He slipped away, searching for a restroom to wash his face.

Marigold intercepted him halfway through the ballroom, flinging herself into his arms. “Cambrian! Let’s dance!” He was whisked away to the multitude of partners spinning around the floor. Marigold tugged him close, forcing his arm around her waste.