A Dawn Most Wicked (11 page)

But the grease never did come off. It probably never would.

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN

I found Joseph and Jie away from the crowds and
fanfare. They sat on a whitewashed fence at the top of the hill, the city of Natchez before them and the wharfs at their backs.

At my approach Joseph stopped reading his book and looked up. He smiled. “Mr. Sheridan.”

“You can call me Daniel.” I hopped onto the fence beside Jie.

“And I suppose you can call me Joseph, then.” He snapped his book shut. “I have been thinking about what you said about a portable power source. There is no denying that raw electricity is effective.”

I nodded. “I've been thinking about it too. There's a device called an influence machine, see? It would allow you to make a spark wherever you are. And I could, ah . . .” I scratched the back of my neck. “Well, that is to say, I could make you one.”

“That would please me immensely, Daniel. But first”—he jabbed a pointed finger in the air—“this reminds me. I believe I owe you a job.”

“A job?” Jie asked. Her heels stopped clicking on the fence and her ears seemed to perk up.

“I don't need you to find me a job,” I said gruffly.

“Did you find a new position, then?” Joseph sounded surprised. “Already?”

“Not quite.” I rested my elbows on my knees. I was done leaning on others for help—done dragging them into my messes. “My future ain't your problem. You did a lot of good on that boat, and it don't feel right to ask you for anything more.”

“Ah.”

Something about the way Joseph said that word—the weight to it—made me twist toward him. “You sound . . . disappointed.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I suppose . . . that is to say, I had hoped perhaps you might wish to . . . work with me.” He gulped and sat up taller. It was the first time I'd ever seen the young man look anything but perfectly poised. It made me grin.

“Are you tryin' to hire me?”

“
Wi.
I suppose that is precisely what I am doing.” He sighed, running a hand over his head. Then his gaze met mine. “Your ideas about electricity are beautifully simple, yet I never thought of them. If a full-time position does not appeal to you, then perhaps I could hire you for a brief time—as a consultant.”

At that word Jie cracked her knuckles. “You could hire
me
. I can be your fighting consultant.” She threw him a hopeful look. “You wouldn't even have to pay me. I'm fine with only room and board.”

Joseph's eyes thinned. “You are tired of being a footman?”

She made a face. “The pay is good, but the work is dull, yeah? What you do”—she nudged Joseph with her elbow—“is exciting. And, I dunno. I felt like . . . like I was doing something right.” She bit her lip. “I know it sounds silly, but it's true. Last night it seemed like the three of us had done something that only the three of us could do.”

At those words the dried mud on the road suddenly leaped into focus. And Jie's words knocked around in my brain . . . before finally sliding down my spine and settling in my lungs. Something only the three of us could do. My breath hissed out. Then, without thinking, I blurted, “I'll take the job.”

Joseph almost fell off the fence. “You will?”

“Yeah.” I set my hands on my knees and nodded slowly. “I reckon a consultant's position might work. For a little while at least.” Until my past catches up again. “And this way, I can make you that influence machine—make sure you've always got raw electricity. But . . .” I angled my face toward his, my lips quirking up.

“Wi?”

“You have to hire her too.” I jerked my thumb at Jie. “Like she said, the three of us do well together.”

“Ah.” Joseph slid off the fence. “This seems a fair enough bargain. We did function well as a team, and I believe I can find enough funds to— Wait.” His eyes suddenly popped wide, and he rounded on Jie. “Did he call you a ‘she'?”

“Oh, uh. About that.” She jumped off the fence, her knees bending with the impact. Then she sheepishly rose, her gaze locked on her feet. “I'm not really a boy, Mr. Boyer. I just dress like one.”

Joseph gulped. “Oh my.”

“‘Oh my' is right,” I drawled. Then I slid off the fence too. My new plans were all good and well . . . but there was still one more person I needed to speak to. One more thing that needed tending before I could head off with these Spirit-Hunters.

But Cassidy wasn't easy to find. When I showed up at the hospital, it was to learn she'd gone to a hotel (paid for by the Langs). When I arrived at the hotel, it was to hear she had returned to the
Queen
. It was just as the sun was setting on the Mississippi's west bank that I finally managed to find her.

She was in the pilothouse—I should've known.

Clack-clack-clack, thwump!
The spyglass opened and closed in her hands—louder than my footsteps as I ascended the stairs into the room.
Clack-clack-clack, thwump!

I reached the top step and had to squint to see through the sunset. It filled the pilothouse like a prism, and wind licked through an open window. When I swung my gaze right, I got a full view of Natchez. When I twisted my head left, I saw nothing but burning sun and endless green forest. A man could pretend he was king of the world up here. Pretend the gleaming steering wheel could take him anywhere he wanted to go.

Clack-clack-clack—

“Cass,” I said.

Thwump!
She snapped the spyglass shut, surprise jolting through her shoulders. But she didn't look at me.

“You're . . . angry.” I crossed the small space toward her but paused a step away. “Is it because I didn't tell you about the reward—”

“It's because you didn't tell me about my father!” She whipped around, her eyes blazing. “You didn't tell me that he would lose his job. Or that the
Queen
was getting pulled off the river.”

“But now she ain't being pulled off—”

“But Father still lost his job!” Her voice screeched out, bouncing off the glass before flying from the open window. She had been letting this anger simmer all day. “You had no right to keep that from me, Danny.”

“Maybe not.” Lifting my hands, I dug my knuckles in the corners of my eyes. I had expected her displeasure. I hadn't expected her rage. “I just did what I thought was right.”

“And is that what you did when you killed that man? That factory guard in Philadelphia? What you thought was right?”

My breath wuffed out. My hands fell. “That man's death was an accident.”

“Oh? Then why does that Wilcox family want you so bad? Father told me about your secret. About your prison sentence.”
Clack-clack-clack.
“And what other secrets are you keeping from me? What else don't I know about you?”

“I only have one other secret, Cass.” I inhaled until my ribs were fit to crack. Then I let it all rush out. “I'm leaving the
Sadie Queen
. I ain't takin' Lang's offer.”

Her cheeks paled. The spyglass
thwump
ed shut. “Are . . . are you joking?”

I shook my head. “After I gather my things, I'll be gone. For good.”

“Why?” she breathed, shoving the glass in her pocket and stepping toward me. Her eyes searched my face. “I don't really care about your past, Danny—I was just surprised is all.” Her hand reached for my cheek.

I didn't move. Not even when her calloused fingers brushed down my jaw. I just stood very still.

She flinched as if I'd slapped her. Her hand wrenched back. “You mean it. Oh God, you mean it.” She clutched her stomach. “But what about being an engineer? What about me? I thought . . . I thought we were a team. You. Me. Engineer. Pilot.” Her breath hitched, making her chest kick up. “What about . . . what about feeling something more than friendship? Did that just vanish?”

“No,” I ground out. “That's still here. Probably always will be.”

“Then why would you go?” She stumbled back a step, toward the open window. “I need you now—more than ever, Danny. Please.” Her voice dropped to a murmur. “Please, don't do this.”

I looked away. There were tears in her eyes, and I couldn't watch them fall. I stared at the front of the ship. At the jack staff. At the Lang Company flag. “I'm no good for you, Cass. I told you that before, and it's still the truth. You know it is.”

“And I told you that's not your decision! I make that choice—”

“Kent Lang wants to court you,” I interrupted, lifting my voice over hers. I had to get this out before she started crying. Before I changed my mind. “He'll be good for you. He can give you what you need.”

“And you don't decide that!” she shrieked. Her body tilted toward me like a tree in a hurricane. “You have no idea what I need, Danny Sheridan. Not you, not Father, and certainly not Kent Lang.” Fists clenching, she stomped closer. “You think I care about your past? You think I care about money or position? You know I don't. Those are just excuses for you to leave. All I care about is what I feel here.” She pounded her chest. “And what I feel here is you. You're my other half, and I won't let you go.”

“And that ain't your choice.” I swallowed. “You can't keep me here, Cass. You can't make me stay.”

She balked. Her fists unfurled. Then faster than I could react, her hand lashed out. She slapped me.

White pain exploded on my cheek, and stars flickered before my eyes. Then she was shouting at me, and I forgot all about the pain. All about what I'd come here for.

“So you kiss me like you plan to stay forever and then you leave? I am ashamed I ever let myself believe you cared!” Her lip trembled, and she shrieked louder. “You don't love me. I should have known better—should have seen you were just playing with me. Well, I learned my lesson, Danny—”

“Don't.” I shook my head in warning. “Don't you dare say I don't love you. Not when you know it ain't true. I kissed you because of how I felt—how I feel. But if I stay with you, Cassidy, I will be forever hated by your father. I will be forever lookin' over my shoulder, wondering if my past is gonna bring you down too. I will be forever worried about Ellis not having the money she needs. And . . .” I drew in a ragged breath. “I will forever feel as if I'm holding you back.”

“Holding me back?” she repeated, incredulous. Then she narrowed the space between us. “You don't hold me back, Danny. You push me forward. On the river—in my life. You're my engineer, and I'm your pilot. We're a team.”

And just like that, what remained of my resolve crumbled. We were a team. I couldn't just walk away. I couldn't pretend this was an easy decision. I couldn't pretend I didn't care.

I did care, and I didn't want this either.

Then before my brain could switch back on—before my conscience could worm its way into the room—I gripped the sides of her face . . . and I kissed her. I pressed my lips to Cassidy's with such ferocity and such need, that I lost all sense of the world. All I could think and feel and breathe was Cassidy.

Her teeth cut into my lips. I tasted blood. I didn't care. Then her hands were behind my head, and we were kissing like we might die tomorrow. Like we were dying right now. And God, I never wanted to leave this moment. I just wanted to fall into Cassidy forever.

But then I tasted salt, and the tang worked its way into my thoughts. I touched Cassidy's cheeks; they were slick with tears.

“You're crying.” I drew back. My eyes ran over her shining, flushed face.

She nodded, dazed. “So are you,” she rasped.

I blinked and touched my own cheeks. She was right.

Then Cassidy's arms slid around my waist and brought me back into the moment. Brought me back to her. “I don't want this, Danny.”

“Me neither.” I rested my chin on her head. She was holding me so tight that it hurt. But I liked the pain—it kept my mind where it needed to be. “But leaving is the right thing to do, and . . .” I licked my lips. “I'm determined to do the right thing, Cass.”

She tipped her head back, her grip releasing slightly. “I can't change your mind.” She spoke it as a statement, but there was a questioning in her eyes.

“No,” I said simply.

Her grip released completely. But she didn't pull away. Not yet.

“Please don't forget me.” Her voice was small. Barely a whisper. “Please, Danny.”

“Are you serious?” I huffed a laugh. “How could I ever forget you, Miss Cassidy? You are . . . everything. Everything I ever wanted. And you made me more than I ever thought I could be.”

She nodded, as if satisfied by that response. “Will you write?”

It was such an ordinary question—I was grateful for that. “I'll write,” I answered, “if you promise to write back.” I trailed my fingers down her face and then gripped her chin. “And only if you promise . . .”