The Inventor's Secret (8 page)

“I’m not going to let Meg marry you off,” Ash sighed.
“This is a ruse, Lottie. A good one, I’ll admit, but I don’t
like it. Not at all.” He finally directed his frustration toward Meg. “My sister is not some society peacock. I don’t
want her anywhere near this.”
“It doesn’t matter what you want,” Meg replied. “She
is the best person for this role, and she can handle herself
if things go badly.” Lowering her voice, Meg continued.
“Ashley, I would never ask this if it weren’t important.”
Ash held her gaze and then nodded.
A sound crawled out of Jack’s throat that was something of a sigh mixed with a groan. “I guess I have some
homingbirds to send.”
Meg turned to give him a beatific smile. “Yes, my dear,
you do.”
“Escorting a debutante will make moving through the
city much easier,” Jack said to Ash, with a sour face. “As
much as I hate to admit it.”
Finding herself flushed with excitement, Charlotte
wrapped her arms around her waist. “When are we going?”
“Ash and I were planning to leave in a few days. We
have the aircraft, and if I can get the papers to establish
your lineage for partaking in the season, I don’t see why
we shouldn’t stay on that schedule.” Jack pointed at the
Dragonfly. “She’ll get us transport to the dirigible traveling
to the Floating City.” He swiveled around so that his finger
pointed at Charlotte. “You give us access to the city itself.”
“I truly can give you access to the city?” Charlotte lifted
her brows.
“Well, not you, you.” Jack tugged at his shirt collar.
“But the fine lady Meg has proposed we make you out to
be will enjoy all the privileges of New York society.”
Despite her suddenly dry throat, Charlotte managed a
tart response. “Are you suggesting I’m not a lady?”
Ash laughed, and Charlotte glared at him.
“Trust me,” Jack told her. “You should thank Athene
you’re not the type of lady I’m talking about. Once Meg
starts teaching you all the rules and etiquette, I think you’ll
be cursing the moment she came up with this cockamamie
scheme. I’d say your best bet would be to adopt a shy and
docile persona. Then again, I realize that’s probably asking too much.”
Before Charlotte had a chance to return Jack’s insult,
Meg interjected, “Don’t worry, Charlotte, you’ll never be
alone. Ash will be there too.”
Charlotte threw an impish smile at her brother. “As a
fine gentleman?”
“Not quite,” Meg told her. “He’ll be posing as your
manservant.”
“I beg your pardon?” Ash exclaimed, sending Charlotte
into a fit of giggles.
When Meg nodded, Jack put his hands up. “I’m afraid
she’s right, old chap. A fine lady needs to be attended. You
fit the bill.”
“But you don’t?” Ash retorted.
“Can you pilot the Dragonfly?” Jack shrugged. “If you
can and for some reason haven’t told me yet, she’s all yours.
I’ll be happy to wait on Charlotte hand and foot while you
play the military officer and escort Charlotte around town.
Oh, wait. You don’t have connections in the city who’ve
created a paper trail that explains your absence and will
also accommodate your return.”
“Don’t push me, Jack.”
Jack smiled without sympathy. “Sorry, mate.”
Ash spewed out more curses than Charlotte ever imagined her brother knew. Meg gave him a disapproving look
but kept silent.
“Shameful, Ashley.” Jack snickered. “A gentleman
would never use that sort of language.”
Ash picked out a few more choice words with which he
addressed Jack.
Charlotte slipped her arm through Ash’s. “Don’t worry,
dear brother. I shall be a kind and generous mistress.”
“You’d better be,” Ash growled. “Keep in mind that
our visit to the city is temporary, and when we get back
here, I’m still your elder brother.”
“How could I ever forget?” She batted her eyelashes at
him.
With a sharp laugh, Ash squeezed her arm. “Let’s get
back to the others. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, we
can move forward with the plan.”
“We don’t have any time to waste,” Jack said, already
heading toward the opening to the Catacombs. “Coe is
waiting for me to return the homingbird, which signals
that we’re on our way. And he’ll help facilitate Charlotte’s
entry into the city.”
Still holding Ashley’s arm, Charlotte walked with her
brother toward the corridor. She glanced back at the Dragonfly. Even in the moonlight, its surface gleamed. In the
sunlight, it would be dazzling. And she would fly in it.
She doubted she’d get a wink of sleep until they were on
their way to the Floating City.

CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’LL walk the platforms
of the Floating City.” Pip sat cross-legged on
Charlotte’s bed. “You should take one of Birch’s
Wing-O-Matics and jump off the edge! Wouldn’t
that be fun?”

“Birch hasn’t tested the Wing-O-Matics, and besides,
I’m supposed to be blending in. I think people would notice if I jumped off a platform with wings strapped on my
back.”

Pip scrunched up her nose in disappointment. “You
could do it at night . . .”
Ignoring that remark, Charlotte said, “What I can’t believe is that this is what Imperial ladies wear every day.”
She turned quickly, and the light silk of her gown floated
along her calves as if it were made of air. “Aren’t society

The leather corset Charlotte was accustomed to wearing cinched her shirt and skirt to her waist, and doubled as
light armor. For as long as she’d lived in the Catacombs,
Charlotte had begun each day by layering her clothing and
weapon belts strategically. Her skirts, though cumbersome, had pockets to stash mice and tools in. She always
kept a dagger strapped to her boot.

In this new dress, which Jack had produced without
explanation, along with a trunk full of the latest metropolitan fashions, Charlotte felt almost naked. The light blue
bodice clung to her breasts, and the gown’s high waist only
served to further accentuate how well the dress fit Charlotte’s curves. The skirt, while made of flowing material,
skimmed close to her hips and legs. Silk slippers had replaced her sturdy boots.

“You look lovely,” Meg assured Charlotte, seeing the
distress on the younger girl’s face.
Charlotte frowned at Meg and spun in a circle for inspection. “Are you sure you can’t see through the silks?”
“Women of Imperial society try to emulate the goddess,” Meg said quickly. “Their dresses follow the style of
the ancient Greeks.”
Noting with some distress that Meg hadn’t actually answered her question, Charlotte resigned herself to feeling
exposed.
“I know it’s quite warm still.” Meg rummaged through
the trunk. “But you’ll want something for travel. Here we
are.”
“Ooh! Ooh!” Pip clapped her hands, her green pigtails
bobbed as she nodded in approval at the cropped jacket of
midnight blue silk that Meg held up.
“Thank Athene,” Charlotte breathed, snatching the
jacket from Meg’s hand and slipping it on. The delicate
jacket was hardly as durable as Charlotte’s usual clothing,
but at least it wasn’t as transparent as the gown.
Among the trio of young women, Pip was the only one
still wearing her normal clothes: a dark leather skirt and
a cotton chemise nipped in by a leather halter vest. Meg’s
dress had changed to reflect her adopted station for the
mission. Meg’s preferred wardrobe consisted of full muslin skirts dyed in bright colors and soft, white cotton shirts
cinched by corsets she embroidered herself. But this morning she wore a simple high-waisted dress in the muted shade
of a rainy sky, and a watery blue grosgrain ribbon circled
the dress just beneath her bosom. It was a costume—just
like Charlotte’s.
When Jack explained that Meg would accompany
Charlotte to the Floating City as her maidservant, Charlotte had immediately been uneasy with the arrangement.
Not only was Meg two years older than Charlotte, but
Meg played the part of kind caretaker, in counterpart to
Ash’s gruffer leadership style. It was Meg to whom Charlotte went when she needed advice or to blow off steam
about her brother. As much as Charlotte was grateful to
have Meg’s company in the Floating City, the thought of
anyone regarding Meg as a servant, and therefore a lesser
being, left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Meg regarded Charlotte wistfully, then said, “We
should go. They’ll be waiting for you. “Pip, help me with
the trunk.”
“I can help you—” Charlotte began.
“No, you can’t.” Meg cut her off, taking one of the
trunk’s handles. She gestured for Pip to lift the other side.
“And you must remember that, Lottie. As a lady of society,
you do not do anything for yourself. You have servants for
that. If you act otherwise, it will cast suspicion on your
story.”
Though her stomach twisted with disgust, Charlotte
forced a nod. She and Jack had almost come to blows several times over the past two days as he’d led her through
the ridiculous maze that was life as an aristocratic lady in
the Floating City. Their near fisticuffs were the result of
Charlotte constantly interrupting Jack, suspicious that he
was making up the behaviors and rules she found so ludicrous. Finally, Meg had to join their lessons and chaperone.
Whenever Charlotte objected to something Jack told her
to do, Meg was there to reassure Charlotte that Jack was
not in fact winding her up for his own amusement. Even
though Charlotte trusted Meg to keep Jack in line, the bizarre customs of the Floating City left Charlotte more than
a little bewildered. Her initial sense of triumph at gaining
a role in the mission had faded, and she approached her
departure from the Catacombs with more trepidation than
excitement.
Meg offered Charlotte an encouraging smile. “Good.
Now lead the way to the Dragonfly and keep your gown
lifted. You don’t want it completely soiled at the hem when
you arrive in the city.”
As Charlotte picked her way through the Catacombs,
Pip’s voice bubbled into the air, full of speculation about
what sights and adventures awaited them in the Floating
City. Pip seemed remarkably optimistic about the mission,
whereas Charlotte felt like they were flying straight into
the mouth of a hungry lion. But Pip wasn’t the only one
who’d taken the revelation of Jack’s true identity as something marvelous and wonderful when they’d joined the
others at dinner two nights past.
Scoff had immediately peppered Jack with questions
about whether the Imperial Armed Forces mandated a regimen of tonics. Birch wanted to know if Jack could start
smuggling better parts to the Catacombs than what came
from the scavenging runs to the Heap. While her friends
flocked around Jack, seeking knowledge like baby birds
begging for food, Charlotte had snuck away to sit with
Grave. Since the strange boy had taken to his cage without
complaint, Ash had relented and agreed to keep Grave in a
locked room rather than behind iron bars. They’d learned
nothing more about his origins or why he could be bludgeoned in the head to no effect.
Scoff had tried to convince Meg that his Elixir of Intentions was their only option, but fortunately Meg put
her foot down. And after she caught Scoff sneaking a few
drops of his concoction into a cup of water intended for
Grave, Meg banished him from the captive boy’s presence.
The Dragonfly’s arrival and the imminent journey into
New York kept most of Charlotte’s companions occupied with preparations, and their attentions drawn away
from the mystery of Grave. Meg took the strange boy’s
well-being as her responsibility, in addition to preparing
him for the part he’d play during their excursion to the
city. Though now that Charlotte knew a bit about Meg’s
wariness of Grave, she wondered if Meg wasn’t hovering
around him as a guard rather than a friend.
When Charlotte crested the rise of the seldom-used
path that would take her to the Dragonfly, she saw Grave
standing beside her brother, giving assistance with the
ship’s preparation for departure. Grave’s lean frame and
absurdly pale skin were unmistakable, but his hair had
changed color from translucent blond to pitch-black. Noticing their arrival, Ash ran up to them, taking hold of
Meg’s side of the trunk.
“Didn’t you offer to help?” Ash scolded Charlotte.
Meg clucked her tongue. “Of course she did, Ash. I told
her she shouldn’t offer help when I’m to be her maidservant. She needs to act the part. No exceptions.”
“Of course,” Ash said, giving Meg an abashed glance.
“Sorry, Meg.”
Charlotte looked at her brother expectantly, but Ash
didn’t bother apologizing to her. With a little huff of annoyance, Charlotte trotted ahead of the trunk bearers to
join Grave near the Dragonfly’s gangplank.
“What happened to your hair?” Charlotte blurted out,
but Grave didn’t appear bothered by her lack of tact.
A little smile graced his mouth. “Scoff gave me an
elixir.”
Temper boiling up, Charlotte asked, “The Elixir of Intentions? I thought Meg had banished him from experimenting on you.”
“Experimenting?” Grave’s eyes widened. “No. It was
just to change my hair.”
Recognizing a scent, Charlotte leaned closer to Grave
and sniffed. Licorice.
“Are you sure that’s all it was?”
He nodded, and Charlotte tamped down her anger, determined to take him at his word.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Grave said, looking up at the
aircraft.
“Yes,” Charlotte replied, admiring the hammered
sheets of copper and bronze that decorated the Dragonfly’s
body. Spying the machine guns that protruded from the
craft’s underbelly, she added, “And frightening.”
Grave sighed, and Charlotte was sorry she’d said something to upset him. “I’m glad Ash came to his senses.”
Grave’s brow furrowed.
“You aren’t locked up,” Charlotte supplied. “And we’ll
figure out who you are once we’re in the city.”
Another sigh. “Maybe I should be locked up. What if
we find out who I am, and I’m something we don’t want
me to be?”
Fumbling for words, Charlotte was saved from the
awkward pause by Ash’s arrival.
“Grave, let’s get this trunk into the cargo hold,” Ash
said.
Pip prepared to hand off her side to Grave, but he
spread his arms along its length and pulled it away from
both of them.
“Holy Hephaestus!” Pip jumped up, banging her head
on the underside of one of the wings. “Ouch!”
“I’m sure Scoff has a tonic for that.” Jack laughed as he
came down the gangplank. “Though it might mean giving
up your green hair.”
He halted when he reached Grave. “You’re not finding
that big box a little too heavy?”
“Erm . . . no?” Grave answered.
“Righto.” Jack’s wary gaze slid to Ash, but he told
Grave, “Better take it on up, then.”
Jack jumped off the side of the plank so that Grave
could carry the trunk into the aircraft.
“Brilliant plan, mate,” Jack remarked in a wry tone to
Ash. “No doubts about it at all. Though I sure hope he
doesn’t accidentally punch a hole in the Dragonfly’s side
while I’m piloting her.”
“He’ll be fine,” Ash replied curtly. “I see you finally got
dressed.”
“I do what I have to do.”
Jack’s ‘dress’ was precisely the reason Charlotte couldn’t
stop staring at him.
He’d traded his brown buckled and dagger-laden boots
for knee-high black boots that were polished to a sheen.
Close-fitting gray breeches hugged his thighs, hips, and
waist. The open-collared shirt and suspenders Jack usually wore had been replaced by a stiff, scarlet military coat
closed by two rows of shining brass buttons and crossed by
a gleaming white sash that fell from his shoulder to his hip.
Charlotte couldn’t find any signs of Jack’s preferred weapons. Instead a light sword hung at his waist, and opposite
the sword, the bright silver handle of a pistol, crafted to
resemble a lion’s head, peeked out of its holster. Charlotte
frowned, knowing Jack liked his weapons innovative and
practical. This gun and sword looked like pieces of art,
not arms.
Feeling her gaze, Jack looked at Charlotte. When he
met her eyes, he winced and she caught a self-mocking cast
in his expression. Her cheeks reddened at being caught
staring, but Jack went pale as he took in her carefully
pinned hair and silk gown. Casting his gaze downward,
Jack scuffed his heel on the ground.
“Looks like you’re ready for the trip.”
“You too,” Charlotte said.
He nodded in reply, but wouldn’t look up at her.
Did she appear utterly foolish to him dressed like this?
It would have been unsurprising, and possibly reassuring, for Jack to tease her about her costume, but his silence
was like a slap in the face.
Jack shifted his weight and said to Ash, “You’re set on
this plan? You really think it’s safe to take him with us? We
could still call it off. The two of us can get into the city to
meet Lazarus easily enough.”
Charlotte caught Jack’s quick glance in her direction.
He didn’t want her on this trip, and seeing her gussied up
in this costume was making him realize what folly their
plan was.
Ash said, “The plan is set. We’re not changing anything.”
Jack spun on his heel and ducked back into the Dragonfly.
“He doesn’t think I can pull this off.” Charlotte picked
at her filmy skirt. “I can’t say I blame him.”
“Don’t be a ninny.” Ash gave her a withering look.
“Jack knows you’ll be fine. He’s just . . . distracted by other
things. It’s put him on edge.”
“What other things?” Charlotte frowned.
“It doesn’t matter,” Ash replied, glancing up the gangplank after Jack.
“Do you think it will be enough that Grave’s hair is
black?” Charlotte asked. “In case anyone is looking for
him.”
Ash shrugged. “It’ll do.”
Knowing she should bite her tongue, Charlotte couldn’t
help adding, “You do realize this means you’re leaving
Birch and Scoff in charge of the Catacombs.”
“Of course I realize that,” Ash replied curtly.
Charlotte gave her brother a long look. “And you aren’t
worried that half of the caverns will be blown apart while
we’re gone? Or that we’ll return to find the children have
purple skin and hair that looks and smells like cherries?”
“Don’t push me, Charlotte,” Ash said. “Just get on the
ship.”
With a huff, Charlotte stomped up the gangplank. She
paused once she was on the ship. The gangplank delivered
her to a narrow holding bay that linked the cockpit and
the cabin. Charlotte turned left and poked her head into
the flight deck. Jack was at the helm, surrounded by brass
gears, cranks, and levers. Mimicking a dragonfly’s eyes,
the front of the ship was thick curving glass framed with
brass that offered the pilot a panoramic view.
“I wanted to say thanks before we go . . . for all you
taught me about city society,” Charlotte said, hoping to
quell any doubts Jack was having about her part in the
mission.
“I’m busy, Charlotte.” Jack didn’t turn around. “Go to
the cabin and strap yourself in.”
He began flipping switches. The Dragonfly shuddered
as its engine came to life. Charlotte glared at the back of
Jack’s head, willing him to turn around, but he didn’t.
Making a noise of disgust, Charlotte whirled and nearly
collided with Ash.
“Charlotte why aren’t you in the cabin?” Her brother
frowned. “We’re about to take off.”
Charlotte didn’t answer, but shoved past Ashley. The
gangplank clanged loudly as it folded in on itself, retracting into the ship. Meg and Grave were in the cabin, already
seated with leather harnesses crisscrossing their chests to
secure them in their seats. Too angry to be bothered with
conversation, Charlotte took a seat near the gun wells
tucked into the front of the cabin. Unlike the passenger
chairs, which were stationary, the gunner’s station had
swiveling seats to permit the weapon’s operator to track
targets over a broad range. Charlotte’s perch afforded
much better views of the terrain through its spherical glass
lookout than Meg and Grave would have through the tiny
portholes that ran the length of the Dragonfly. Buckling
herself into the harness, she eased her foul mood by gazing
out at the machine guns. Jack might resent her being there,
but Charlotte assuaged her bruised pride by imagining
how easily she could man the gun and protect them should
the need arise.
Above the gun well, the Dragonfly’s wings began to stir.
The forewing and hindwing on each side of the ship beat in
ever-swifter counterstrokes, and soon the craft was hovering in the cavern. Through the glass, Charlotte saw Pip at
the entrance to the Catacombs, jumping up and down as
she waved her good-byes.