A Tale of Two Airships (Take to the Skies Book 2) (19 page)

Brine saturated the air with a heavy chill threading through and causing goosebumps to prickle along my arms. Mist settled on this early morning and made it difficult to navigate as Geoff and I led the way, clutching to the old sail wrapped around the body of our helmsman. Grief for his sudden passing saturated my chest, as thick as the dew I drank this morning. My eyes burned, but as the captain, I had to stay strong.

The tides slapped the shore with an undulating regularity. On a normal day the sight of the sea sent the thrill of inspiration through me, however, today I couldn’t help but notice how hopeless our struggle had become. We spent day after day, year after year, fighting the tide of enemies who slammed against us, until we were all lost in the wake. My throat tightened, and I focused on readjusting my grip with the sail.

A set of steps led from the dock down to the darkened sand, streaked with mud. Our boots sunk into the grains, but our grim group continued onward down the shore. A couple feet away, the ocean rolled up to kiss the sloping sand, tugging stronger in this spot. Here would be as good as any a place to send him off.

We placed the body on the ground, and I hiked my skirt up, tucking the edges to pin it about knee length. Geoff rolled his breeches to his knees as well, and we kicked off our boots. Our small group watched in silence as we lifted our cargo again and began our slow march into the sea. Step by step, the water swelled around my ankles, tugging as it rolled away. My heels sank into the sand, and the ocean shocked my skin with its icy tendrils. Good, because at this moment, I needed the cold.

Once we’d reached knee length, we stopped. The tides pulled more powerfully here, enough it’d drag the body to the depths. And for a helmsman to rival one of the seas, that’s where we’d send Spade.

Leaving him behind here clutched at my heart like the icy water churning around us. This man fought by our side all these years. He had weathered our storms every time and saved us from so many disasters I couldn’t count the amount I owed him. His dark gaze had burned as he stared straight ahead at the sky, and whiskers stubbled his chin because he’d go days without shaving.

Even though we’d exchanged no long conversations at navigation bay and hadn’t gone on reckless escapades together, he hadn’t been that sort of person. Every individual member of this crew had become a part of me, had impacted me in some way, and his influence had been slow and subtle. Except I’d never realized how powerful his stable, reassuring presence had become until we’d lost it.

Though the water numbed my fingers, I didn’t let go of my clutch on the canvas. Couldn’t let go. Geoff met my eyes, and the sorrow there sent the message home. We’d do it together.

“Ready?” I asked.

“Never,” he whispered, but I’d known the answer all along. “Goodbye, my friend.”

At his words, we released Spade to the sea, letting the tides claim him. At first, I kept trying to catch the hint of canvas peeking through the watery swell, however, after minutes, the ocean prevailed. I stared into the vast expanse, unsure of where Spade could’ve been pulled and not wanting to imagine the stalwart man drifting down to the depths.

We trudged our way to the beach where the other crew members stood in silent reverence. My throat pinched, but I kept my focus forward and staved my tears. He’d saved our lives more times than we could count, and yet we’d failed to save his. That would sit in my bones a long time. Geoff’s dark gaze haunted me in the sort of way to last a lifetime. Some wounds never healed.

“Alright crew, let’s get this heist underway,” I murmured, my gaze darkening as I turned away from the sea and headed down the shore towards the docks. If I had any say in the matter, we wouldn’t be losing any more of ours.

Chapter Twenty

Our group had left our crew in silence to repair what they could on the Desire. Even though the sobriety from the morning dwelled in all of us, we knew how to don our masks and get the job done.

Had I any doubts before of Edward and Viola’s professionalism, they quelled the moment we began our approach. We’d taken the sub-bus there and in a mere hour managed to roll into the sort of neighborhood a lot of rough and tumble trash like us didn’t belong. However, Edward and Viola were able to blend with little effort and used those skills to their advantage. We were the supposed bodyguards, and given the amount of weaponry on our person, a fair assumption could be made that we fit the bill.

These streets were well kept, made from polished cobblestone, and patrols ran regular circuits through the area. Money was the reason, visible from beyond the elaborate whorled gates in the shape of the mansions lining the street side and so far back only the peaks were visible from where we strolled. Already, I strayed out of my element. Even though I’d made nice with muckity mucks on occasion, I’d never seen this sort of old wealth, different from the glitz and glamour of America and filled with a class transcending time.

Viola rubbed elbows with this sort of clientele on a daily basis, and watching her transformation from sharp and wary to poised and dignified was something remarkable. All the danger seemed to sap out of the woman, and she held herself with the arrogance of the other ladies who walked the streets with their escorts and silly skirts trailing behind them. However, anyone who knew better would spot the alertness in her gaze and recognize her gracefulness for the deadliness it contained.

I puffed out my chest and did my job as security. While I didn’t fit the profile of big beefy guard, my muscles were defined from hard work, and with all my sharp edges I projected dangerous. Matilda holstered at my side didn’t hurt.

“Isabella, this the first time you’ll be paying the estate a visit?” I murmured at her side. She scowled, her foul mood dampening the air like a storm around her. None of us were keen to deal with our pasts—we’d left them behind for a reason—so I understood her reluctance.

“I’m surprised you never tapped the connection before,” Viola said, one brow raised. “I would’ve been integrated into society before you could snap your fingers. You could make a fortune off those fools.” Her soft voice didn’t carry and held a surprising amount of humor to it. No matter what airs Viola Embrees put on, she hadn’t been born amongst the nobility. Given her house in Shantytown, I bet she’d grown up a street rat like the lot of us.

“Not after my grandmother cast away my mother. She raised me on her own, and I wouldn’t have dared betray her respect by tromping down here to collect favors.” Isabella’s voice bristled, holding tight to her old grievances.

“Well then look at our expedition as spitting in the eye of your grandmother. We’re not here to socialize but steal her shit.” I stretched my arms over my head, listening to my spine crack with the motion. When all this blew over, I was busting out one of our big casks of ale and then sleeping for the next century.

Mordecai had taken the lead, and I’d passed the blueprints to him since he had such a good memory. Edward meanwhile strolled beside Viola with their arms linked together as casual as any rich couple out for a stroll. Even though he feigned disinterest, his hazel eyes sucked in our surroundings, latching onto every stranger who passed our way. We were the twitchiest bunch of miscreants to hit this side of town for a stroll in quite some time.

Following Mordecai’s lead, we slowed as we neared another gate. Black steeples peeked over from some of the taller buildings making up this monstrously large manor. Guards stood right inside the gate, keeping watch over the surrounding streets.

However, we weren’t going the sneaking route. We’d planned this out to perfection, because we were going to rob the bastards in broad daylight.

Viola separated from Edward and extended an arm to Isabella. She’d dressed in her finest, and while her attire didn’t reach the detailed level of Viola’s, it paled in comparison to Mordecai and my rugged ensembles. A pearl gray blouse with a slate cincher that pulled in her waist offset her golden skin. Underneath, she wore a matching skirt, ruched with layers of ruffles extending its reach to sweep against the ground. Viola had pinned Isabella’s hair up like her own, and the few curls escaping were intentional. A silver barrette kept her beige waves in place.

Upon their approach, the guards flushed to the gate at once, all five of them at attention.

“State your business,” one of the burly guys snapped out. I withheld my eye roll. Of course, a guard’s life tended to be boring most of the time, so any chance they got to strut their stuff they threw all their aggression into those spare moments.

“We’re not expected visitors—though I doubt Mr. and Mrs. Bellerose would be able to even anticipate this one.” Viola lowered her voice, leaning forward as if she offered delicious gossip. Given those perfect lips of her and the way she focused her full attention, eyelashes aflutter, she had them wrapped around her finger in moments. This girl was a pro. “I’m already well known in these circles, however, who should stumble into my bar, but the long lost relative of old Mrs. Bellerose. Now, I couldn’t deprive my dear friends a chance to meet their own kin.”

The guard held a skeptical expression as he scanned our group. “Who’re the rest?” he asked.

“Her bodyguards, and of course, my escort. I couldn’t very well be strolling these streets by myself, could I?” She winked, charm oozing from her pores.

His gaze was transparent as he did the mental math of how many guards there were in comparison to our motley group. The answer was lots, since five stood watch at the gates and many, many more waited inside. Once he’d assessed our threat level, he murmured to his men, and the gates slid open with a scrape and a clang. I entered the gates, my throat squeezing a little—once inside, we’d be trapped. Either we managed this on the quick and quiet, or we’d end up gutted by the hordes of guards. But hey, this wouldn’t be fun if it were safe.

We began our trek across the extensive lands inside the walls of this estate, led by a throng of guards. My eyes almost bugged out of my head to see how far these trimmed lawns spread and how the flower gardens cut violet and fuchsia lines through the place at meticulous interspersions.

This sort of wealth surpassed anything I’d ever witnessed, and the manor casting its monstrous shadow our way did little to dispel my incredulity. Anger flared from a deep place inside me that we fought so hard to keep our girl flying while a mere section of this estate contained enough wealth to support the Desire’s flight for the rest of my days. No wonder Viola and Edward chased the bounties of the rich.

We walked down a cobblestone path that might as well have been lined with gold for how much it cost to maintain the even stone. The guards kept glancing at us, so I donned my best attempt at surly, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring. Pretending to be bodyguards wasn’t hard. Isabella blended like a champ, the proud look on her face translating well to the upper echelons of society. Viola took command here with a competence I now came to expect from the woman. She had appeared one of these fluffy headed twits upon first glance, but I’d learned fast Viola wanted to be underestimated—gave her an advantage.

Seconds after stepping inside the manor, I wanted to take a bath in acid. Decadence like this made my skin crawl. The foyer spread out larger than half of our deck with marble flooring at our feet costing a fortune, and the mahogany furniture accenting the room in corners all had a well maintained polish. Ugly paintings marked the walls, the old sort the rich fawned over. Give me some landscapes or something personal—not the random posed pictures of haughty ancestors or depictions of days before the aether harvesting began.

The whole place smelled too clean, and the one fragrance cutting through the air was the hiss of mechanical diffusers drenching the place in lavender. The guards cast a couple coarse glares at my muddy boots and the weapons weighing down my holster. Mordecai didn’t get quite the same reception, but to be fair his elegance allowed him to walk through any station without too much notice. I gave them a lovely scowl in return, committing to my pretense as bodyguard.

A large staircase dominated attention more than the ensuing maze of rooms spanning the length of this monstrous place. The guards beelined for the steps though, and we followed suit, the clack of our shoes echoing to the rafters of this inordinately tall building. My veins thrummed with adrenaline as I longed to get out of the stuffy grip of this place. How people lived in these mausoleums was beyond me.

As we ascended the stairs, another clack came from the hallways above. Our motley group attracted the attention of the Bellerose family. At the head of the steps, a woman who appeared a couple years younger than us approached. Her dusk rose gown trailed to the floor, and her hair had been pulled back similar to Viola’s style, though she had darker features and a sharp nose. She scanned us, her gaze filling with curiosity.

“Who’ve you brought to our doors?” she asked in a high and light voice. I squinted. Was this Madame Bellerose?

“This woman claims to be a relation.” The guard we’d spoken to gestured to Isabella who followed his introduction with a lengthy sweep of her skirts.

The lady’s dress whispered along the floor as she shifted. Her eyes sparkled, and she pursed her lips but didn’t respond. Instead, she gave a brief nod before sashaying down the steps. “Hope you enjoy my parents’ welcome,” she called after passing us.

I lifted a brow. So not the Belleroses but their daughter. And another unaccounted person roaming the corridors. I filed the information away as we wound our way down the hall, following the guards. They led us past dozens of rooms, and though I scanned each of the opened doors, I’d already hazarded a guess to where our prize would be kept. To my surprise, the guards led us in that direction.

They stopped outside of a library larger than most of the rooms below deck on the Desire. Inside sat a man and woman, equally dressed in threads worth more than we made in an exchange and delivering the bored looks I associated with most of the upper class. The middle-aged woman kept her face painted and her silks refined. She wore a long cornflower blue dress to offset her paler skin, while her husband wore a crimson waistcoat and tall gray slacks. Earrings and a delicate necklace accented Lady Bellerose’s outfit while a gold pocketwatch hung from her husband’s waistcoat, both of them adorned with delicate displays of their considerable wealth.

“No meetings have been scheduled for today.” The woman’s tone sharpened as she regarded the guards.

“This group arrived at the gates. The woman here is claiming to be your relation, and I thought your judgment would be best on this matter.” He stepped back, allowing Isabella to approach. Both of the Belleroses watched her, their eyes sharp and their expressions guarded. To her credit, Isabella was not cowed and introduced herself with a curtsy as graceful as anyone who’d spun through their circles for years.

“Madame Bellerose of this estate was my grandmother.” Isabella’s gaze landed on Alban Bellerose. “My mother was Francesca.”

A hush threaded through the room as his wife turned to him. All of us watched Alban Bellerose, waiting for him to register the news. He kept his reaction to a minimum; however the strain grew visible on his face from here, and his brows knitted together.

“Come, sit and talk with us,” he offered, keeping his voice tight and controlled.

We’d been waiting for the cue. I kept my gaze focused straight ahead as Isabella made nice with her distant family. She kept a placid mask on her face, but I understood the girl well enough to sense the loathing crawling beneath her skin. Her mother had made the right choice when she’d escaped this ornate prison.

Viola stepped beside the guard and whispered. He nodded and gestured outside of the room.

Go time.