Sky Pirates (9 page)

Dr. Bell let go of Elle and lay back, her eyes closed. “The bleeding has not stopped since I was shot. It has been seeping into my insides all this time. The only reason it has slowed is because there is no blood left to lose … and there is no getting better from that. I know I am not long for this world.”

Elle felt hot tears well up in her eyes. “No. You will
survive this. You will be all right,” she said, more to convince herself than anyone else, but she knew deep down that what Gertrude was saying was true. There was no recovery from a gut shot like hers.

“Promise me you will seek the answer … and even if you don’t find the answer … don’t live your life alone like I did …” Dr. Bell’s voice trailed off as she drifted out of consciousness. She did not speak again.

Elle sat with her for what seemed like a very long time. She sat and listened to the labored breathing of her friend, mingled with the gentle humming of the ship’s engines. She sat perfectly still until the only sound she could hear was the engines.

Elle closed her eyes in despair. Gertrude Bell was dead.

Elle sat alone in the dark next to Gertrude’s shrouded body for a long time. Around her the ship’s sickbay grew quiet as the injured pirates cleared off one by one; those who couldn’t walk were either shrouded like Gertrude or fed laudanum to rest. Amidst the general hubbub, a strange numbness settled upon her.

I bring death and destruction upon anyone who is too close to me. Marsh, Gertrude … all of it is my fault. Perhaps I should just give in to de Montague’s requests and hand myself over to the Council of Warlocks. They may as well do their worst. At least then I would be of some use to the world
.

Her only answer was the gentle creaking of the ship.

“Oh, voices of the Oracle, where are you when I need you?” she said softly.

There was no answer. She did not expect one either, for she had banished her guardians in a fit of anger not so long ago. Since then, there had been no word from them. She had tried a host of chants or rituals to bring them back but none of them had worked. It was as if the voices had disappeared into thin air—never to be heard from again.

She sighed.
When will I ever learn to control my temper?
she thought as a great wave of despondency swept over her.

A soft tap on the metal door interrupted her thoughts. Heller lumbered into the small infirmary. At the sight of
the shroud, he pulled off his cap and scrunched it up in his giant hand. “Captain wants to see you,” he said, sounding somewhat awkward.

“Well that’s convenient, since I would like to see him too. In fact I have more than one bone to pick with him. Let’s go.” She pushed past Heller and stomped a few paces down the narrow corridor before stopping. She turned to Heller. “Well, are you going to show me the way or am I to wander around on this godforsaken ship by myself until I find him?”

Heller’s eyes grew wide with surprise. He put his cap back on. “It’s this way,” he said as he led her away.

Dashwood was waiting for her on the bridge. He sat sprawled out in his leather captain’s chair, one leg slung over the arm. He wore knee-high leather boots like she did, she noticed.

“Mrs. Marsh. How fares your companion?” he said.

“She passed away a little while ago.” Elle swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “And I hold you responsible for her death.”

Dashwood straightened up. “I am truly sorry about your friend.” He held up his hand as if to ward off her fury. “This was supposed to be a quick, clean heist. The plan was never for anyone to get hurt or killed on board. You have my word on that.”

“I want my ship back,” she said, ignoring his apology. “Now!” She crossed her arms and glared at him.

Dashwood’s expression lit up with a glimmer of surprise at her fury. “I’m sorry but I can’t do that. Finders, keepers and all that. It’s the code. She’s mine now.”

“What are you going to do with the
Water Lily
?” Elle demanded.

“Well, I was going to sell her as an airworthy vessel, but seeing as you managed to shred her balloons to fine ribbons, I would have to repair her in order to do that.”

“Good. I hope it is so expensive that you have to spend every penny you have,” she spat.

Dashwood grinned at her. “Well, yes. A complete balloon replacement is going to be very expensive, and to be honest, I don’t really fancy laying out cash when I don’t have to, so now I am forced to consider my options.”

Elle did not like the sound of that. “And what might these options be, Captain?” she demanded.

Dashwood looked slightly uncomfortable as he met Elle’s gaze. “I have given orders for the crew to strip her down and take all we can use. We can sell the spare parts and the fittings as salvage. The rest will be jettisoned when we’re done.”

“You can’t do that!” This news was almost too much for Elle to bear. She lunged forward to grab Dashwood by the throat, but he was quicker than her. In one swift move he grabbed her wrist and swung her round so her arm was twisted and pushed up against her back. “Mind the face,” he said next to her ear.

Elle struggled against him and managed to stomp on his foot with her boot. She felt Dashwood flinch slightly when her heel connected with his toes, but to his credit, he maintained his hold on her.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Mrs. Marsh, but I will if I have to. Now stop fighting with me,” he said as he fought to contain her struggles. “I swear I will tie you up if you don’t stop right now,” he said.

Elle could feel the rapid beat of his heart against her cheek. Up close, his chest felt solid and warm against her, his face so close to hers that she could feel the stubble on his chin against the sensitive skin of her neck. His touch sent a strange surge of excitement through her, which was entirely inappropriate, given the circumstances. This left her feeling utterly bewildered. She did not want to be tied up, but she also definitely did not
want to give him the satisfaction of obeying his commands, so after a few more attempts at freeing herself from his grip and a well-placed elbow shoved into to his ribs, she stopped struggling.

“Heller, fetch me some rope,” Dashwood said. He was slightly out of breath from wrestling with her, and his carefully combed-back blond fringe had become dislodged.

“Right away, Captain.” Heller disappeared out the door and reappeared a few moments later with a skein of tough-looking rigging cord.

“Wait! You said you wouldn’t tie me up if I stopped struggling,” Elle said.

Dashwood rolled his eyes. “I was planning to go easy on you, on account of the fact that you are a lady and all, but I will not allow you to attack me in front of my crew. So my apologies for the rough handling, Mrs. Marsh, but yet again you have made extreme measures necessary.” And with that he thrust her away from him and over to Heller who wrapped his enormous hands round her wrists as if they were nothing but lily stems.

“Tie her securely and put her in the brig while we work on the ship,” Dashwood said as he smoothed back his hair. “I’ll decide what to do with her once I’ve dealt with the loot. Perhaps we can get a ransom or something. Her late husband was worth a few dollars and I’m sure her family could muster up some money to have her back safely.” He shook his head. “Although, she is such a harpy, I bet they’d probably pay money for us to keep her here.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Heller said. He was still smiling at the captain’s joke, when, without much ceremony, he started looping the rope around Elle’s shoulders, drawing it so tight that she gasped.

“No! Let me go! This is not fair! You promised!” Elle kicked and struggled as Heller dragged her out of the
cabin and down the stairs, but her protests made little difference; fighting Heller was like wrestling with a mountain. A large, hairy, bad-tempered mountain. She did manage to land a solid blow on his thigh as he carried her down the narrow ladder, but that was about it. Heller just grunted a little but continued with the task undeterred.

“Better do the legs too, sir,” Heller called up to the Captain as he dropped her onto the landing. “She’s got some mighty sharp edges to her, this lady.”

“Gag her too, if you must. Her mouth is the sharpest thing she has,” Dashwood said from the top of the stairs.

“Wait!” Elle stopped struggling.

The men looked at her. “If you are going to strip down the ship, at least allow me to take my personal possessions off first.” She looked up at Dashwood. “Please. I promise I’ll go quietly if you let me get my things.”

Dashwood sighed. “I can see you are going to be far more trouble than you’re worth, Mrs. Marsh, but as a courtesy—one captain to another—I will allow it. But only because you have given me your word that you will behave. I hope you will keep it.”

“You have my word,” she said.

“Very well then, you have fifteen minutes to collect your things. But if I hear that Mr. Heller here has had one ounce of trouble out of you, you will live to regret it. Mark my words.”

“Thank you,” Elle breathed.

“Heller, take Atticus with you. Keep both eyes peeled; she’s a crafty one. If she tries anything, shoot her in the knee.”

Elle blanched. “Wait, you can’t do that.”

“My dear Mrs. Marsh, I am the captain of this airship and my word is law. Up here, I can damn well do as I please.”

“But—” she said in a voice that came out slightly smaller than she had intended.

Dashwood shook his head in disbelief. “No more arguing! I told you once before that you would land yourself into some trouble if you went gallivanting around in airships. You are lucky that it’s me and not some other captain or you would be dead right now. It’s a harsh world up here; only the fittest survive. So yes, I can order my men to shoot you in the knee or anywhere else, if it pleases me. I will too. If it pleases me. And you will thank me for my mercy, for there are far worse fates which could befall the likes of you.”

He looked at his first mate. “Heller?”

“Right away, sir,” Heller said. He gave the rope a tug and dragged Elle to her feet. “Come along then, let’s get your things.” With that, he set off with a lumbering gait and Elle had to stumble-run to keep up with him.

Back on the
Water Lily
, Elle stared at the inside of the cabin with dismay. She had managed to convince Heller to untie her, but he was not happy about it and he stood by the hatch ladder scowling the rope looped in his hands.

The signs of plunder were already evident. Someone had made a sweep of all her cubbyholes and the contents were strewn all over the floor. The halfjack of brandy that she kept in case of emergencies lay empty on the floor among her papers.

“Hurry up now. No dawdling,” Heller said. He folded his massive, hairy arms across his chest.

Her other guard was the one they called Atticus Crow. He was a weedy-looking fellow with dark eyes that darted here and there as he took in the interior of the ship. Crow was also dressed in a black canvas sou’wester which was so old that it had patches of what looked like gray mildew on it. Under the coat, he wore a pair of
brown overalls with brass buttons and a pair of hobnail boots. On his head, he wore a black pilot’s cap and goggles, the straps tied loosely under his chin. Crow was a good name for him, Elle thought, for the large black coat made him look just like a hunched-up bird.

She found her holdall, which she had stowed in the secret compartment under her seat. She noted with much relief that the raiders had missed the hatch and her things were all still there. She went over to her navigation table. Her compass had fallen round the back of it, and with the distraction of the loot in the hold, somehow the plunderers had missed it too. It had belonged to her father once and she carried it everywhere she went. With it were a few sky charts, that she rolled up and stowed in her holdall. From under her small sleeping bunk, she pulled out the canvas rucksack that held her other things. Inside it, underneath the underwear, was a box of bullets—ammunition for her Colt. She shifted it carefully so the box would not rattle.

She slung the rucksack over her shoulders and hooked her holdall so the strap sat across her chest. She then looked around the cabin for anything else that she might need. Her eye caught Dr. Bell’s travel trunk, which was still sitting in the passageway. Someone had had a go at breaking the lock, but it was still intact.

She pushed the key into the battered lock and slipped it open. The trunk contained a number of books and papers along with the late doctor’s toilette and an assortment of clothes.

She closed it and locked it again.

“I’m ready,” she called out to her guards. “But one of you is going to have to help me with this.” She bent down and lifted one side of the trunk.

Atticus grunted, took hold of the other end and then lifted it out of the hatch. “What’s in here? It feels like it’s filled with rocks,” he said.

Elle did not answer. Instead she just shoved harder at her edge of the trunk.

At the top of the ladder, Elle stopped and looked across her ship one last time. That uncomfortable lump in her throat was threatening to turn into a full-blown sob as she took in the fine wood paneling and the hand-painted water lilies inlaid in the windowpanes. Then it was time to go.

“The brig is this way, missus. Captain’s orders,” Heller said as he helped her on board the
Inanna
.

“What about my things?” she said.

“They are to be left in the hold until the captain decides what he wants to do with you. Now come along; you promised you wouldn’t be any trouble,” he said.

Elle let out a slow breath and allowed herself to be led to the brig, which was somewhere deep in the airless belly of the ship.

She heard the door slam and the lock crunch as the key turned in it. Defeated and exhausted, Elle sank down on to the cold metal deck and rested her face in her hands. What a terrible, awful mess this was.

Elle spent three nights in the cold and damp brig before Dashwood finally took pity on her. During this time, she tried over and over again to open the barrier so she may slip away into the Shadow realm, and to freedom and beyond, but it was all to no avail.