Authors: Emma Jane Holloway
South of London, October 16, 1889
ABOARD THE
ATHENA
11:10 a.m. Wednesday
EVELINA STOOD ON THE BRIDGE, PEERING DOWN THROUGH
Nick’s spyglass at the land below. Nick was on the other side of the room, talking to a crewman she didn’t know. She’d overheard that something was going on with the ash rooks, but she hadn’t caught the specifics.
She was tired, her senses flattened from doing too much magic. The
Athena
had visited two other of the maker’s armies before joining the column moving toward London from the south, and in both places Evelina had called on the devas to mobilize the machines. As before, they had taken care of the manufactories first, tearing them brick from brick with the relentless drive of nature itself, returning all to earth and stream.
The forces in the south would not require the same kind of help. Prince Edmond’s march from Bath had begun as a relatively small force, but many had joined along the way. Above sailed those pirates—including Captain Roberts—who had not dispersed to watch the coasts for foreign invasion. Below marched makers and their creations, some with steam-driven wagons and others riding whatever invention they contributed to the cause. There were many men who had trained in secret for this uprising, and there were folk who had simply shown up, weapon in hand. This was truly the people’s army.
The swelling numbers were heartening, but they slowed the column down. The group would have fragmented—some speeding ahead and leaving the rest behind—had not the makers brought several of those steam trains that Evelina had seen earlier with the self-laying tracks. Those now trundled in the middle of the pack, sandwiched between those trained to march.
The
Athena
hovered over the long tail of humanity, Evelina sweeping the circle of the spyglass along its length. The prince stood a few feet away, doing his own reconnaissance through the telescope mounted at the foremost point of the bridge. He had been down with the troops most of the morning, but had returned to the ship with its superior vantage point to plan their next move.
“What is that at the back of the column?” she asked. “It looks like a frisky cow.”
“It’s not,” he replied. “I’m not sure what it is, but the men are frightened to death of it.”
Evelina squinted, but Nick’s spyglass had its limits. All she could see was a black shape loping twenty yards behind the last clump of men. “How long has it been there? Since Bath?”
“Since Dartmoor.” The Schoolmaster—she still hadn’t grown used to thinking of him as anything else—lifted his face from the eyepiece of the telescope. “It first appeared the morning after the destruction of the laboratories.”
She thought of the monstrous animal she’d seen bound from the flames and reflexively drew back from the windows. “If that is the case, beware of it.”
He shrugged. “So far it has done nothing but follow us.”
Nick strode onto the bridge, with Striker behind him. They had news; it was written plainly across their tense features. Bacon scrambled from his basket by the door, but promptly sat at attention, eyes wide, when the atmosphere in the room turned grave. “It’s not going to be as simple as we think to enter the city.”
“We go up King’s Road and through the barricades,” the Schoolmaster said stubbornly. “There are too many of us to hold back. That will take us right to Westminster.”
“This is going to be won in the air,” Nick replied. His
face was flushed, the color high on his cheekbones. “The ash rooks bring word of the Gold King’s dirigibles coming in from Hampstead. It makes sense; there is an airfield on the heath.”
Evelina saw the panic flicker behind the Schoolmaster’s eyes, but he quickly submerged it. “Who are the best tacticians?” he asked.
“Me and Roberts.”
“Then coordinate with him and give me options. If there’s no time for options, do what needs to be done.”
“My pleasure.” Nick reached for his spyglass and Evelina handed it over.
“What can I do?” she asked.
“Come with me,” Nick said.
They left Striker on the bridge, discussing something with the Schoolmaster. Nick led her through the hatch that opened between the gondola and the main body of the ship. She could hear the engines churning, the minty smell of the aether cloying and thick. She’d been on the
Athena
long enough to know that meant they were filling their fuel reserves. Nick finally stopped when they got to the sheltered roost they’d built for the rooks, but he didn’t open the door to it quite yet. He stood with his head bowed, dark brows drawn together.
“What is it?” Evelina asked, touching his sleeve. She could feel his muscles beneath it, tight as a drawn bow.
“I lost my ship and half my crew the last time we fought,” he said quietly. “This ship and you on it is everything I want. All I could think of before was revenge for Manufactory Three, but suddenly that seems less important.”
“You always were practical.” Evelina ran her hand down his sleeve until she found his hand. The moment she touched his fingers, he gripped her hard, turning her until she faced him.
“You’re damned right I am,” he murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “I don’t deal in thrones and ancestors. I deal in weapons and wind, and if I’m very lucky I get to hold the woman I love when I fall into bed at night. And I don’t ask for more.”
Evelina’s heart ached and she leaned in to him, needing to feel the reassurance of his body against hers. “Nick …”
He put a finger over her lips to silence her. His gaze roved over her face as if to fix her features in his mind. “There will be hell to pay if they try to take what’s mine.”
She pulled his finger from her lips. “No one can take me from you.”
“But they’ve tried.”
She couldn’t argue with that.
“Men fight for different reasons. I believe in all the fine talk of secret heirs and the right of the common man to thrive, but in the end I fight for us, Evelina.”
He kissed her then, his mouth hot and possessive. His hands slid down her back, his touch both gentle and hard as he traced the curves of waist and hip. Evelina reveled in his strength, rocking her hips forward and raking her fingers through his thick dark hair. She felt the surge of power between them, but they held it back. This stolen scrap of time was just for them.
They broke the kiss but stayed just like that, nose to nose, warm breath mixing between them. She tingled from head to foot, as if she might ignite from sheer, giddy desire.
“When we get through this,” he said softly, “you and I are going to go someplace quiet, where there is nothing but sun and sand and warm night breezes. We are going to sleep in each other’s arms until we’re thoroughly bored with doing nothing.”
That sounded like heaven, but right then it also sounded as impossible as a flight to the stars. Evelina didn’t say any of that, but kissed him again instead, letting her lips linger against his. He was about to gather up his courage, ignore what happened to the
Red Jack
, and fight for their future. This was a battle, and there was no telling if they would ever touch again.
“I love you,” she said. “What do you need me to do?”
And suddenly the moment was over. “I need you to help with the rooks.”
* * *
AFTER A FAR
less pleasant, but very immediate, conversation, Nick left Evelina and ran back to the bridge. He could feel Athena turning north, preparing to face London and the threat ahead. It was time to shut down all the parts of himself extraneous to battle, to summon his magic, and to think only of victory.
But as he raced to make up the time he’d spent on that last kiss, it was impossible to shut down his joy.
She said she loved me
. The first time she’d ever said it was wonderful, but this was better. It had sounded so natural, so easy, so part of who they were. After so many years, he truly knew he’d won his heart’s desire. What more could a man possibly want?
With a whoop, he leapt into the air, spinning with his old acrobatic flair, and fairly bounced through the hatch to the gondola. Digby was in the corridor between the cabins, and gave him a curious look. Nick forced himself to slow to a brisk walk.
You had best keep your mind on the task at hand
, Athena chided, but he could feel her pleasure, too.
Beneath all those knives, you are a romantic fool
.
“Only about some things.”
Indeed, you do well to let her know you love her, especially when the girl is filled with doubt about so much. You are overdue for a longer conversation about your future
.
His mood darkened. He’d never been as good with words as with more immediate means of communication—such as a bullet, or his lips. “We’ve always done better grabbing the moment.”
I’m sure that’s not all you wish to grab
.
“What would you know? You’re not even flesh and blood.”
I’m not
that
ethereal. You simply know too little of our kind
.
That caused a hitch in Nick’s step, and he was about to start in with some probing questions when he felt something shift in Athena’s mind. If she had been human, it would have been a gasp. Heart leaping, he broke into a run, pushing his way through to the bridge.
The very edge of the horizon was dotted with ships, but
even as he watched, they were growing bigger. Memories of the
Red Jack
thrust up, spearing him with white-hot panic. Suddenly, Nick couldn’t move. His face went numb, as if he’d drunk far too much.
I can’t do this again
.
But the spell was broken as Striker turned from where he was watching at the window. “Roberts is there.” He stabbed a finger toward the east. “Lucas, Pinkwell, Laforge.” He poked the air three more times. “Five of us, and a million of them.”
With another inward curse, Nick counted. There weren’t a million enemy ships, but there were more than a dozen. He refused to despair. Any pirate ship was worth at least two. Plus they had the ash rooks, clustered close to the
Athena
in a thick cloud. He felt the Schoolmaster hovering, waiting for a verdict. “Three to one,” Nick said, forcing himself to sound careless. “Not good, but we’ve come through worse.”
“Roberts’s ship is signaling,” Striker said. “I’m no good at reading it.”
Striker had never learned to read at all, which made piecing together the letters of the message a meaningless task. Nick crossed the rest of the way to the tall glass panels and leaned to get a better view of the
Dawn Star
.
It was an old-style ship, the buxom figure of Aurora riding proudly at the prow. A young lad raised his signal flags and began his message once more. Nick nodded to himself. Reading the signals was one of the first skills he’d picked up when he’d taken to the air. “He keeps repeating
Morrigan Bay
over and over.”
“Morrigan Bay is in the Caribbean,” the Schoolmaster offered. He was clearly curious but trying to stay out of the way. Nick approved.
“Ah,” Striker said. “Then I know what Roberts wants.”
So did Nick. The raid on Morrigan Bay was one of those tavern favorites that pirates loved to tell when the rum ran freely and the candles guttered. “Then you’d best get to the engines.”
“Aye, Captain,” Striker said with a feral grin as he swept from the deck, his coat furling behind him.
“What’s going on?” asked the Schoolmaster. “What does Morrigan Bay mean?”
“It’s a tactic. You can only do it when the clouds are right and you have the proper ship. One that can fly like a feather.” Nick turned to the bosun. “Poole, signal acknowledgment to the
Dawn Star
. Digby,” he said, glancing at the tall, red-haired airman, “take us up.”
“Aye, sir.”
Digby saluted, but Athena was already lifting the ship high into the clouds. Through the window, Nick could see the ash rooks fall away like drifting petals, not able to follow the sudden vertical lift. The motion of the ship beneath their feet made the Schoolmaster grab for the wall. Suddenly, the windows were blocked with white mist, and then just as quickly the bridge flooded with brilliant sun. Below, a cushion of cloud swirled like a bowl of whipped cream.
“How can you see the enemy?” the Schoolmaster asked, both hands against the glass as he peered down.
“We will, when it’s time.” Anxiety chewed Nick like a rat caught in his gut. He paced the bridge, passing his chair three times but never sitting down. In fact, the captain’s job seemed to involve very little relaxation. He returned to the window, looked out, and tried to estimate where they were. He was lost until he saw a break in the clouds and caught a glimpse of the ships ahead, bright red balloons like cherries ripe for picking.
The
Athena
’s engines slowed.
What now?
Nick was already in motion, glad of something to do. A table sat to one side of the bridge, and on it sat a large polished basin half filled with water, a green glass bottle next to it, sealed with a cork. Nick pulled the cork and poured out a generous measure of rum, carefully floating it on the water. Then with a word, he set it alight. Flames rose, blue and wild, but he gentled them, letting the devas of the high winds soak into the fire. It would burn as long as he needed it.
Show me
, he commanded, flexing his will.
The fire shimmered, and all the ships came into view, tiny miniatures in three dimensions suspended over the silver
basin. At the very top, a tiny replica of the
Athena
bobbled in the waves of heat.
I’m getting good at this
, Nick thought.
“Blood and thunder,” the Schoolmaster said, circling around the table to see the display on all sides. “How does that work?”
“With a great deal of concentration,” Nick said.
“More magic.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not complaining.”
In the moments since he’d brought them into view, the pirate ships had spread out. Laforge’s ship, the
Belle
, was light and quick. She was running out a long steel rod that Captain Laforge called the
aiguille
, or needle, designed for midair skirmishes. The other two were opening their cannon bays and holding position.