Seleste deLaney - [Badlands 02] (20 page)

Gambini threw her to the ground, but not before she yanked on the torn edge of his pocket. The vial of solution tumbled to the deck and rolled toward the open hatch. Henri dove, kicking something toward Carson’s still form, and her body skidded on the floorboards, her flesh burning with the friction. Just before it was lost to the air, her fingers curled around the vial, but her body kept sliding toward the opening. She scrambled for purchase on the slick wood.

His breath still coming in tremulous rasps, Carson grabbed her by the arm, yanking her to a stop. Shaking, he raised a gun—Catherine’s—and gave her a weak nod. Henri clambered to her feet as Carson emptied the gun into Gambini’s body, but he needn’t have bothered. The gangster was still tearing at the air, trying to stop the clockworks. Two mangled butterflies lay on the deck, but the dragonfly’s blades continued to dance across his skin, spraying blood in their wake.

It’s
the
only
way
.

Knowing didn’t make it any easier. Killing from a distance was one thing. This...something else entirely. Henri charged forward, plowing into Gambini and smashing the vial against his face.

Sparkling fluid coated his skin, and he let out an unholy scream as he tried to swipe at the solution with his sleeves. Henri fought to pin his arms down even as some of the liquid dripped from his face to land on hers. Tears fell from her eyes and she clamped her lips tight against her own screams as her skin began to boil. In front of her, the solution fed on Gambini, devouring his flesh and burrowing into the muscle beneath.

Only when he stopped trying to fight her did Henri let go and stagger away from him. Keening cries that sounded like they came from someone else erupted from her throat. Carson caught her as she stumbled and yanked off his shirt to clean the mess that was left of her face. Her attack on Gambini had happened too fast for Carson to do anything to stop—or help—her.

“You saved my life. You crazy woman.”

The admiration in his voice was clear, but all she could think was that he’d never be able to look at her again. It had only been two drops, but she’d seen the damage one could do, and she’d felt the way they’d run down her face. The raw flesh still burned. Tears filled her eyes anew, but she swiped at them violently. She’d done what she had to. No point in shedding tears over it.

Gambini lurched blindly around the cargo hold. Henri buried her face against Carson’s chest. “Get him off of the ship. Please.”

“Okay.” He kissed the top of her head and shoved to his feet, still a bit wobbly after what the gangster had done to him. Taking care not to touch the man’s face or the fluid that had started to run down his body, Carson punched and kicked, herding him toward the open hatch. She knew he’d wanted to bring Gambini down, to kill the monster himself, as a way of slaying the demons of his past. Finally, Gambini teetered on the edge.

Carson shoved him. The gangster’s arms didn’t even windmill as he fell through the opening. Just a dead body dropping from the sky.

Dead. She never thought she’d feel so much joy thinking that word.

Trembling, Henri allowed Carson to help her to her feet. He pulled her close, and she sagged against the warmth of his embrace.
It’s
over
.
Truly
over
. “We probably should have kept his body—for the authorities.”

Carson shrugged. “If they need it, I’m sure we can send someone back to pick up the pieces.”

The word reminded her of the scattered mess on the deck. Which, in turn, reminded her that they needed to let Noah and Mahala know everything was okay—judging by the pounding footsteps overhead, they’d heard the gunshots—and haul Catherine up from the gunboat. Henri gave a shuddering sigh. All she wanted to do was sleep for days and forget about what her father’s solution had done to her. “We have some work to do.”

* * *

Catherine had begun to stir by the time Carson opened the trapdoor. Amid protests about the dead coming back to life, he led her to her cabin and eased her onto the bed. Only when he assured her Gambini was truly dead and off the ship did she relax. When he mentioned sending Henri to check her wounds, she started screaming again and threw a book across the room as he ducked out the door. Apparently, she felt fine.

Henrietta’s cabin door stood open, and when he glanced inside, he found her sitting on the floor, a pile of broken glass and the remnants of her mirror in front of her. In her hands was a small stack of papers. She didn’t look up when he rapped lightly on the doorframe, her gaze roving over the words in front of her.

A long, raw wound ran from the corner of her right eye and down her cheek. A matching one started on the other side of her jaw. The solution hadn’t worked deeply enough to cause more than surface damage, thank God. New skin would form there, he was sure, but she would forever bear the scars of saving their lives. And she had never looked more beautiful in his eyes. The butterfly had transformed into something stronger, something stunning. Something that he hoped and prayed could one day be his.

Her mouth dropped open and, when he cleared his throat, she finally glanced up. She ran her tongue over her lips and swallowed hard before holding out the papers.

He frowned as he took them, expecting more diagrams and chemical mumbo-jumbo, and tipped his head toward the broken mirror. “What is it? What happened?”

“My father. He gave me the mirror. I-I-I finally decided to let the dead rest. I wanted everything to do with him gone, but when I took it down, it slipped. That was hidden inside. I didn’t know about it, but when I broke the mirror... It details everything he did for Lupo. I was supposed to use it if anything ever happened to him.” Carson scanned the pages, flipping through them as fast as he could. When his eyes met Henri’s again, he saw hope burning there. “Please tell me it helps.”

“This is enough to put Lupo away for life, and that’s if he can bargain his way out of the death penalty.”

Henri pushed to her feet, ignoring the glass. A bit of distance stood between them when she reached out for his hand. “They’ll send him into the Badlands. You know they will.”

He smiled and tugged her close. “And I’ll be certain to make sure your friends arrange a welcoming party.” He dipped his head to kiss her, but she pulled away, hiding her face in the loose tangles of her hair. “What’s wrong?”

“I saw myself in the mirror before I took it down. You don’t have to pretend—I know what I look like now.”

“Philadelphia society might not approve of scars on beautiful women, but I thought you’d decided that wasn’t the life you wanted anymore.” He tried to tip her chin up, but she jerked away from his touch.

“I don’t care about society, Carson. I don’t want
that
anymore.” She started trembling and tears splashed on his hand. “All I wanted was you, and now I’m hideous and—”

“Hey. Don’t you dare try to tell me what to think. I saw you.” This time he forced her to meet his gaze. Tears streaked down her face and her eyes were shot through with blood. “I see you now. These scars don’t make you hideous. They’re the marks of a hero, and they could never in a million years take away an ounce of how beautiful you are to me.”

She shook her head, trying to press her chin back down. “You’re just saying that.”

“Never. When I met you, you wore a mask, Henrietta. It was lovely, but it was a mask. I started to fall for the woman beneath it sight unseen. When you first patched me up, I got a look at the real you, and you were gorgeous, but not because of your smooth skin or those incredible lips of yours. It was the you I saw inside, struggling to be free, that I wanted. The one trapped by convention and propriety and rules.” He swung her into his arms and rested his forehead against hers. “That was the person I first truly started to fall in love with. And she looked...exactly like you do right now.”

She sobbed and clung to him as if her life depended on it, but she still tried to turn away.

“You are beautiful and brave and smart and noble. I never dreamt I could have someone like you in my life. But damn it to the seven hells, woman, if you don’t kiss me already, I’m going to go crazy.”

She sniffled and the corners of her mouth twitched up. “There are nine levels of hell.”

“Then what do you say we start making some bad decisions together and you can introduce me to those last two.”

“Which two are left then?” She finally relaxed in his embrace, her voice no longer choked with sadness.

“I’m thinking I could go for a little gluttony. I haven’t had much experience there.”

She swallowed hard, meeting his eyes brazenly, fire burning in them again so hot they scorched his soul. “And the last?”

“When you’re ready...lust. A whole lot of lust.” He dipped his head and kissed his way up the wound on her neck.

“And just a moment ago you were talking about love. What’s a girl to think when you can’t keep the two straight?”

He drew away to make sure she could see the truth shining in his eyes. “She’s supposed to be amazed that she found both in one person. Just like I am.”

“Truly amazed.” Her fingers twined in his hair and pulled him close. When her lips pressed against his this time, there was nothing holding her back. Passion and heart and promise. This was the woman he’d seen behind the mask.

His golden butterfly had shed her chrysalis at last.

Epilogue

“Mr. St. Clair. The court has accepted your guilty plea. However, the charges against you are numerous. The minimum penalty for crimes of this nature would be twenty years in prison.”

Henri’s breath caught. Twenty years serving with men he’d put behind bars? The lawyer would never live to see the end of his sentence. From where he stood on the other side of the courtroom, Tobias gave a curt nod, his eye patch slipping. He didn’t even bother readjusting it. He didn’t seem as if he bothered with much lately. His haggard appearance—unshaven, messy hair, wrinkles lining his face—said the short time he’d spent in prison so far had not been kind.

Carson stood at the prosecution’s table, but when he spoke, his voice lacked the conviction Henri had always heard in it. “Your honor, Queen Laurette of the Badlands has offered her fortress prison. It would segregate St. Clair from the local population who could be prone to taking a bribe from the outside in order to silence him. She has assured me that St. Clair would be held in maximum security until he returned to testify, and then would be treated as any other criminal sent across the border.”

The judge raised a bushy gray eyebrow. “Mr. St. Clair, you understand the Badlands means exile? You would never be allowed to return without an armed escort, even if you are eventually freed there.”

Tobias’s jaw flexed and a muscle twitched near the edge of his eye patch. “If I stay here, my life is forfeit. Better to live in the hell of the Badlands than die in the one here.”

Nodding sadly, the judge continued, “In that case, you are sentenced to exile in the Badlands. You will depart with the crew of the airship—” he rifled through some papers, “—
Dark
Hawk
first thing in the morning and return at a date to be determined in order to provide testimony against one Ignazio Lupo, ideally upon his capture.” He raised the gavel, about to bring it down, when he glanced at the paper in front of him and paused. “Carson Alexander, rise please.”

His visage cold and stony, Carson stood. “Yes, your honor?”

“I see you’ve been stripped of your badge and authority.”

Carson clenched his hands into fists, and Henri wished she could reach out and hold him. “Yes, sir.”

The old judge rubbed a weathered hand over his jaw, skin scratching against the coarseness of his beard. “You went beyond your duty in both finding the connection between St. Clair and Lupo’s organization and bringing him to justice.” Carson nodded. “No matter what official stance the marshals had to take, I thank you for your service. Court adjourned.” The gavel rang out like a gunshot, causing nearly everyone in the room to flinch.

Carson filed out with the legal team, and Henri wondered if he’d find her or if she’d have to track him down. The
Dark
Hawk’s
crew left in a more light-hearted manner. Mahala and Noah grinned, already making plans on what to do to the ship with the finder’s fee they were receiving for bringing Tobias in. They held the doors for Spencer and Ever. Anyone could tell by Ever’s stride that she’d been injured, but even though Henri knew what lay beneath the warrior woman’s breeches, she noticed only the slightest stiffness that indicated mechanicals. Ever simply needed a bit more time to get accustomed to the prosthetic. Another few months and no one would see anything. Henri stepped up next to them.

“...and I told you to stop mothering me. I am fine, Spencer.”

“Ever—”

“If you wish to sleep alone, please continue. I am sure the seat on the bridge is quite comfortable.” Ever nodded toward Henri and lowered her voice. The rest of the crew knew nothing about her missing limb. “And from what you saw, how did the machine perform?”

“Perfectly. I could barely notice the hitch in your gait at all. With continued use and practice, it will be like it was always a part of you.” Henri had worried at first that she hadn’t memorized enough of her father’s papers to make the mechanical work, much less the surgery itself, but the procedure had been a resounding success. Finally she’d found at least one way to make the evil he’d done worth something. Perhaps the best way.

Ever sneered. “Make no mistake, Henrietta. The contraption you wired to my body may obey my commands, but it will never be part of me. I am not like those
things
your father built.”

“No, Ever. You were and always will be far better than any of them. A mechanical leg cannot change that. I still fully expect that you’ll gun me down the day you decide you can’t tolerate my arrogance any longer.” Henri’s lips curled up, and it warmed her when the warrior princess returned a ghost of the expression.

Ever clapped a hand on her shoulder. “As long as we understand each other.”

Not exactly friendship but, considering where they’d started, Henri would take grudging respect.

Spencer shook his head. “Come on, let’s get back to the ship.” When Henri didn’t turn with them, he asked, “Aren’t you coming?”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“He’s allowed to stay with you if he wants, you know.” Spencer wrapped a possessive arm around Ever’s waist.

Over the two months since they’d first returned with Tobias, Henri had spent every spare moment she could with Carson. If they landed to transfer cargo, she found him. Stopped to refuel, she found him. After his dismissal from the marshals, he’d even managed to find time to travel with them for a run back to the Badlands. But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

She had no intention of Carson spending the evening anywhere but by her side.

* * *

Carson stood outside the courthouse and watched the crew of the
Dark
Hawk
part ways. When the others walked off, Henrietta lifted her head to the icy breeze and closed her eyes. Golden curls broke free from her coiffure, swirling around the small dragonfly tattoo on her neck, and Carson wanted to reach out and tuck the hair back up.

Not now. Not here.

After news of Gambini’s death had reached the Badlands, the warriors had insisted on the tattoos. Henrietta chose hers and insisted—against his protests—that Carson deserved the one he received. A phoenix much like the one Ever had on her cheek, symbolic of killing the same man twice. It should have been Henri’s, but she reminded him that he’d killed Gambini several times and shoved him from the hatch when he was still technically alive. There was no arguing with the woman when she got like that.

Rubbing at his sleeve and the inked reminder beneath, he spun on his heel and walked away. He had one more stop to make before he could meet up with Henrietta. One last goodbye before he went to the Badlands again. The walk was only a couple miles, but each step felt like trudging through first sand, then mud, then quicksand.
Can
I
really
do
this
?
Should
I
?

Questions plagued him until he stood in front of the headstone.
Lily
Robert
.
Taken
from
this
life
too
soon
. For the first time, staring at her grave didn’t bring with it a rush of anger and hatred. He’d done what he could to avenge her death and in the process found a reason to live again.

A quiet, breathless voice came from behind him a few moments later. “Is this her?”

Of course Henri had followed him. He would have done the same in her place. “Yes. This is my fiancée, Lily.”

Carson tipped Henri’s chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. She stood so close he could feel the heat of her body, but she never touched him. It was as if she still felt she didn’t have the right.

He dipped his head, his lips brushing over hers in the barest hint of a kiss. Even that made his pulse thunder, but this wasn’t the place for anything more. And he was willing to wait. He’d wait for her forever if he had to. He whispered a silent goodbye to Lily, knowing in his heart that she’d approve. “All the ghosts that haunted me are buried now, Henri. Just like I wanted.”

“Even with Lupo and so many of his men still at large?” She bit her lip, her face taking on an air of coquettishness that he’d learned wasn’t the least affected. Months later and she still didn’t trust whatever gossamer threads held them together.

Letting go of her hand, he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. So small, yet so much stronger than he’d ever expected. “Yes. Your father and St. Clair named enough names that the majority of Lupo’s army is in custody. And they’ll catch the rest, catch him—I just won’t be part of it. It’s enough.” He sucked in a breath, the scent of jasmine in her hair adding a hint of springtime to the late fall chill. “What about you? Are you ready to move out of the senator’s shadow and forget everything he did?”

“Forget? No. If I could forget, it would only mean I didn’t learn anything. But I’m tired of being Senator William Mason’s eccentric daughter.” She nestled her head against his chest and absently smoothed her fingers over the scar on her neck. “I’m quite ready to be done with society and be someone else now.”

He kept one arm casually around her waist as he guided her from the cemetery. “And who would that be? Brilliant inventor and head physician to the queen of the Badlands?”

“Of course, I want to continue to work with Laurette and Ever and create things to better the world—right the sins of my father as it were. But I was also thinking that Dr. Henri Alexander has a rather nice ring to it.”

They stepped onto the street and he froze, his muscles tightening around her. “I...uh...”

One hand on his chest, she leaned back against his arm and smiled. “Finally, I’ve managed to leave you speechless. I don’t mean today, Carson, or even tomorrow or next month. But I’ve come to understand you, and you’d spend years trying to figure out the proper way to ask me since I have no family whose blessing you could seek. Despite all the encouragement to leave propriety behind me, I know some part of you clings to it. So the eccentric daughter is making one last appearance in the grandness of Philadelphia to let you know I’m not walking away or hiding from whatever we have. Somehow in the time between meeting you at the gala and now, I fell in love with you. Wholly and completely.”

Tucking a loose curl behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her skin, Carson returned her smile. “You know when I think I realized what I felt for you was real? When I knew, no matter what, I couldn’t just let you go? When you tore off up that mountain with Ever. No fighting skills, no plan other than stopping St. Clair before he did any more damage. I knew from that moment there would never be a dull moment with you by my side.”

“That hardly seems an endorsement for a long life together.”

Carson shrugged. “Maybe not, but maybe it’s exactly what we both need. Besides, how could I pass up the chance to see what idiotic, amazing thing you do next?”

“Is that all you’re interested in?” She shrugged and huffed out a sigh. “I suppose I can take care of that. Next, I plan to—” Without warning, she reached up and pulled him toward her, pressing her lips to his, kissing him with a passion and freedom he’d never felt from her before.

He returned the kiss with vigor, only pulling away when a steam carriage rolling by brushed the back of his jacket. He tugged her closer to the fence around the cemetery. “Nice try, but you won’t get rid of me that easily.”

Henri’s laughter rang in the air, tickling his nerves. “Does that mean you’d like me to try again?”

“It means I’ll take whatever adventure you want to throw at me, for as long as you’re willing to keep me around.”

She nestled against him and let out a satisfied sigh. “And how long do you propose?”

With her in his arms, he thought of months and years and forever.

“I don’t know. Ask me again next time you try to kill me.”

“Now, Carson, I never
tried
to kill you.”

He smiled, content for the first time in as long as he could remember, and brushed his lips across hers. “Then I guess you’ll never need to ask again. I propose forever. How does that sound to you?”

“Like it can’t possibly be long enough.”

* * * * *