Steele-Faced (Daggers & Steele Book 6) (18 page)

My forehead felt as if it were on fire. My eyes wanted to pop out of my skull. I stared at Orrin’s chips. He only had about three thousand crowns worth left.

“So,
Waters,”
said the dwarf. “What’s it going to be? You in on this one?”

I swallowed hard. “Let’s make this interesting. I raise. By however much you have left.”

A murmur ran through the crowd.

“Fine. Let’s ride this one out.” Orrin flipped his cards, the queen of clubs and the queen of hearts.

Shay flipped hers, the jack and ten of clubs. I tossed my two kings down, and Orrin growled. Patty flipped another card. The three of clubs.

“Oh, ho, ho,” said Theo. “And the script flips.”

With the fifth club, Shay now had a flush, beating both of my and Orrin’s two pairs. I blinked. That hadn’t been the plan, right?

Shay smiled, though it seemed forced.

“Don’t get cocky,” said Orrin. “One more queen and those chips are mine.”

I kept my mouth shut. Patty flipped the final card. The eight of hearts.

Theo whistled. Orrin grunted and swore under his breath. The crowd oohed. Shay seemed relieved. I wasn’t sure what had just happened.

“Full house, eights over kings,” said Patty. “Game to Mr. Waters.”

I blinked. I’d won—apparently.

Patty reorganized the chips and collected the cards. “Given the hour and the departures of Mrs. Waters and Mr. Wyvernjaw, I’d suggest we end the betting for today. For those still in the game, we’ll meet tomorrow morning at the same time.”

Orrin pushed free of his chair and headed for the bar. I nodded to Patty, loosened my necktie, and bolted for the exit.

27

“Thomas! Thomas, wait up!”

I barreled through the ship’s hallway, Shay’s voice distant and muffled in my ears. I couldn’t slow. Our room beckoned. The bed, specifically.

I’d almost made it to our door when Shay caught up with me. She grasped me by the arm and twisted me to face her.

“Daggers, what’s going on?” she said in a hushed voice. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

“Drugged,” I said. “Somebody…spiked my drink. Must’ve. I feel…dizzy. And lightheaded. Can’t think straight, and there’s a…cloud of some sort hanging over my brain.”

I dug in my pocket for the keys, stumbling as I brought them out.

Shay helped steady me. “Here. Let me.”

She unlocked the door and took my arm, herding me into my room. She led me to my bed, fluffing a pillow for me before easing me onto my back.

“Let me get you some water,” she said.

I nodded, regretting it as the pounding in my head worsened, but Shay had already left. She returned a moment later with a tall glass from the bar. She held my head as I gulped the contents down greedily, then removed my shoes and tie and undid the top few buttons of my shirt.

“Stay right there,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where would I go…?” I said, but Shay had already disappeared again. She returned with a cool, damp cloth that she lay over my forehead, as well as another glass of water. She made me drink it all, which I did though more slowly this time.

“Feeling any better?”

I rested my head on the pillow, the coolness of the towel seeping into my skull. “Yes, actually. Thank you.”

“What are your symptoms?” she asked. “Take your time, with breaks if you need to, but I need to know them all.”

“Let’s see,” I said. “Dizziness. Sweating. Hot flashes. Stomach pain. Confusion. And, uh…there was something else. Oh, right. Memory loss.”

“Was that a joke?”

“Was
what
a joke?”

“Never mind.” Shay sat next to me on the bed. She extended two fingers and held them against my throat.

I gave her a few seconds. “How am I—”

She shushed me and held up a finger from the opposite hand. I went quiet again. After fifteen seconds, she pulled her hand back. “About a hundred and ten beats per minute. Elevated, but not to the point of serious concern, especially if you’re starting to feel better. You
are
feeling better, right?”

I gave her a thumbs up. “Honestly. Truly. I am.” And I wasn’t kidding. Since becoming horizontal and guzzling the water, the fuzzy cloud over me had started to break, and the rushing torrent of blood through my ears had dwindled to a mere flood.

“I should get you something to calm your stomach,” said Shay. “Food to absorb whatever chemicals were given to you. Bread or crackers, probably. And I should get the medic. Zander may not have been much use dissecting a corpse, but this seems more in his wheelhouse.”

“There’s no need, Shay,” I said. “Really. Some rest, more water, I’ll be fine. Physically, anyway. I’ll still want to strangle whoever spiked my drink.”

Shay shook her head. “No. I’m finding Zander. He may know some tricks I don’t. You stay right here, okay?”

“You got it.”

“Great. Be back soon.” Shay exited the room. I heard the pitter-patter of her feet, the slam of the door, and then nothing.

I took a few deep breaths, closed my eyes, and enjoyed the silence—until someone ruined it with a knock.

“What is it?” I called out. “You forget something? Or just change your mind?”

A voice came back, muffled and distant, but from the closed door, not the drug-induced cotton jammed into my head. “Mr. Waters? Sir? Can I have a moment?”

It sounded like Steck.

“Come on in,” I said. “The door’s open. I think…”

Again I heard the creak and close of the door, followed by footsteps. I didn’t lift my head from the pillow, but I shifted my eyes toward the entrance to my quarters.

Steck appeared, pausing at the foot of my bed when he saw me. He was breathing heavily. “Daggers? Are you feeling alright?”

“Splendid,” I said. “This is how I relax after an invigorating poker game.”

Steck’s eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed.

“Sorry,” I said. “Force of habit. Truth be told, I’ve been better. Somebody spiked my drink.”

“You’re kidding,” said Steck. “With what?”

I sighed. “You know, if you’re trying to avoid the wrath of my snark, you should stop asking me stupid questions whose answers are either plainly obvious or totally inscrutable.”

“Fair enough,” said Steck. “I don’t suppose you saw who dosed you?”

I thought about shaking my head but instead chose a more headache friendly option. “No. Must’ve been the waiter or the bartender. I’d guess someone paid them off.”

“And Steele?”

“Went to get the ship’s medic,” I said. “Should be back soon.”

Steck snorted and planted his hands on his hips. “Of course she did.”

“You need her for something?”

“Not her necessarily,” said Steck. “But someone. And given your condition…”

I sat up to a forty-five degree angle. Miraculously, my head didn’t complain. Much. “What’s going on?”

“Remember how you asked me to trail Wanda?”

I nodded and winced. My head was far from perfect, apparently.

“I followed her after the end of the poker game,” said Steck. “She headed into the engine room.”

“The engine room?”
I said. “What would she be doing—no, scratch that. I need to take my own advice about stupid questions. You’re sure she went in there?”

“Absolutely,” said Steck. “I followed her down five flights of stairs and saw her enter with my own two eyes.”

“And then what?” I asked.

“What do you mean, then what? I ran back up here as fast as I could to tell you.”

I wanted to slap my forehead, but I was smart enough not to. “Let me guess, Steck. You don’t have a whole lot of experience tailing people.”

“You…think I should’ve followed her in?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” I said. “I’m glad to know she was headed somewhere suspicious, but next time I tell you to follow someone, please do so until they
actually
commit a crime or meet with another party.”

I sat up the rest of the way and ripped the cloth from my head. “You said you ran up here?”

Steck nodded. His breath had slowed, but it still gave credence to his claims.

I stood, wincing. “Good. If we hurry, we might be able to find out what she’s doing down there.”

“But…what about the drugs in your system?” said Steck. “And Steele?”

“I’ve taken down a herd of doped-up dwarves while mildly concussed. I think I can handle a dose of roofies. And as for Steele? Well, hopefully she won’t be too angry with me, but that’s my battle to fight, not yours. Still…got a pencil?”

The vice cop turned porter patted his pockets. “I’m not sure. What for?”

“Really, Steck? Again with the stupid questions?”

His cheeks reddened, but it wasn’t my fault he kept asking things with obvious answers.

“Never mind,” I said. “I think there’s a fountain pen and pad in the living room. Let’s hoof it.”

28

Though a single bulkhead door separated the
Prodigious’s
second most lower level from her engine room, it felt like much more than that. The portal transported me from a clean, well lit hallway into a dark cave reminiscent of a preacher’s promise for the eternal damnation of sinners. A crashing wave of damp heat rolled into me, bringing with it scents of sulfur and soot and engine grease. A din enveloped me—the pounding of iron on steel, the push and clank and screech of pistons and crankshafts, and the distant shouts of burly men, all set over the constant roar of flames.

I blinked in the shadowy expanse, amazed at how a space filled with the blaze of coal briquettes could be so dim, even though I already knew the answer. The fires need be contained, funneled toward the boilers to create the heat and pressure needed to drive the ship’s engines. As my eyes adjusted, I made out the huge drums that held the bitumen, dotted with hundreds of rivets already blackened by coal dust.

Sweat beaded over my face, and I longed for the cool cloth Shay had laid over my forehead, but if I knew anything about humidity, the cloth wouldn’t work the same way in the boiler room’s swampy embrace. My head pounded, made worse by the cacophony of enormous, moving engine parts and rageful death cries of the ship’s fuel, but at least I could walk straight and remember things for longer than a goldfish could.

I turned to Steck, shouting over the noise. “You say you saw Wanda come in through here. Any idea where she might’ve gone?”

He shook his head. “I never followed her in. As soon as she disappeared through the door, I made my way to your chamber.”

My eyes continued to adjust, bringing to life more of the details in the engine room: huge carts of pitch black coal, thick spools of braided wire and heavy chains, and hazy clouds of steam seeping through connecting pipes from boiler units large enough to live in. I also spotted a pair of stokers, one as bald as an egg and the other with a pompadour, seemingly held in place by nothing more than engine grease. Both wore plain white undershirts over canvas pants, though the shirts had been turned a murky shade of gray by the environs.

They spotted Steck and I before we did they.

The bald one shouted at us and mounted the bare metal stairs leading toward us from the engine room floor. “Oi! What’cha be doin’ here? This ain’t no place for dandies such’as yerself. And what ya be doin’ bringing ‘im here? Don’tcha know better?” He shot a thick, coal-darkened finger at Steck as he said that last part.

I didn’t have time to play games. “You seen a woman come in here? Dark hair, dark clothes, dark glasses?”

The greaser joined his pal Baldy on the stairs and elbowed him in the ribs. “See? Told you I wasn’t crazy.”

“You saw her?” I asked.

The greaser nodded. “Maybe five, ten minutes ago. Harry here thought she was a shadow. I said she wasn’t. We had ourselves a spat about that.”

I suppressed a chuckle. Of course the egghead’s name was Harry.

“You’s a loon, you is,” said Baldy. “Maybe’s y’all are. T’aint no woman prowlin’ ‘bout the boilers. T’aint nobody else, neither, no matter how many times ya stamp and spit during the spat.”

“Somebody else?” I said.

“More shadows,” said Baldy. “T’aint nothin’ but that. And don’t let ’im fool ya into thinkin’ otherwise.”

“I’m telling you I saw someone else,” said the greaser. “At least…I think I did.”

I glanced at Steck. “Sounds like Wanda’s meeting someone down here.” Then, to the stokers: “Any chance you saw where this woman, or that shadow that most definitely wasn’t a person, were heading?”

“Well, what sorta stupid question is ‘at, now, mate? Askin’ done we seen where a shadow done run off ta?”

“To be fair, we’re both in a bit of a stupid question funk,” I said.

Baldy narrowed an eye, the coal dust caked against his face cracking from the effort. “Who’d ya say the pair of ya was? And what’cha want with a pair of humble stokers here in the ship’s taint, by the by?”

“I could tell you,” I said, “but it would take too long to fetch Boatswain Olaugh to prove it to you. Suffice it to say we need to find those two shadows. Steck, let’s split up. Head to the right. You can take Bald—er, Harry with you. I’ll head left. You, with the pompadour. Stay here and keep an eye on that door. If the woman or the shadow come back, I’ll want to know.”

Steck eyed me dubiously. “You sure about this?”

About not having to endure Baldy’s charming, low country dialect and having to explain to Wanda what I was doing in the man’s company when and if I found her? Of course I was. “Trust me, I’ll be fine. I can handle myself. Now go. We don’t have much time. Probably.”

I didn’t wait for Baldy to tell me why I couldn’t delve into the engine room, heading off into the depths all while hoping Steck could handle the mess I left in my wake. I wove back and forth between huge pieces of machinery and boilers that radiated heat into my face, trying to formulate a plan of action for finding Wanda and coming up with nothing.

To some extent, it made sense she’d descend into the
Prodigious’s
bottommost pit for a clandestine meeting, assuming she wanted one. The constant break-ins of Shay’s and my room gave credence to the idea that everyone in the poker tournament was spying on everyone else—although I was fairly sure at least
one
of the intrusions into my room had been by Wanda herself. Either way, the darkness and noise of the engine room made eavesdropping nearly impossible.