A Tale of Two Airships (Take to the Skies Book 2) (23 page)

“Follow me,” I whispered, veering off to the left. Though I stomped through the woods, obvious by the way Mordecai winced, we managed to maintain relative quiet while we padded over leaves and circled around large trees. The end of the forest emptied out into the large clearing we’d spotted from above, and one glimpse of the canary yellow tents in the distance confirmed the exact location we headed to.

My heart thudded in my chest the closer we walked to the gypsy caravan. If Isabella got sighted, dozens would recognize her from years ago. Not only her, but all of us had achieved such notoriety in the eyes of the law we had a slim chance of slipping unnoticed. Matilda inched out of my leather holster as I wove past another knobby oak. Though I didn’t spot sentinels watching guard at the fringes of the woods, they could still hide in wait for us amidst the forest.

I scanned every shadow and every skittering leaf to catch my sight, but mashed leaves melded with the moss and dirt while thick, glossy bushes and bursts of yellow dandelions blossomed all around us. From my vantage point, no gypsies peered out from behind the trees, waiting to ensnare us as we snuck towards the caravan. And my companions weren’t any slouches either—if anyone could spot a guard, the three of them could.

Still, I clutched my pistol tight, finger on the trigger as I strode past yet another oak, now marking the distance between them which grew by the step. Beyond the fringes, movements snared my gaze of the camp denizens walking around, a couple of the older ones chasing after two five year olds who were planning a daring escape. My stomach soured, forcing bile up my throat. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind of children being among this lot.

I halted in my tracks. Assaulting the camp would put them at risk, and while I’d do a lot to get my friends back, I wouldn’t murder children. There had to be another way.

A crunch sounded from beside me, followed by the click of a pistol.

“Well now, after all the work we spent trying to find you, I didn’t expect you to come running to us.”

Chapter Twenty Five

Shit. This had not gone as planned in the slightest.

“Sheath your swords, holster your weapons, and turn around.” The voice came from behind me, scathing and female.

“Scaara, you were the last person I expected to behave in the asinine fashion the rest of our clan has.” Isabella’s voice rang out clear.

I plunked my pistol into the holster and ever so slowly turned to face the guards. Two hulking gentlemen stood behind one short and angry brunette. Her eyes sparked, and her pistol had us in its sights. Though we outnumbered them, they’d gotten the jump on us, and worse, we stood within shouting distance of their camp. Even if we made a move, one call to their friends in the canary yellow tents and we’d be swarmed.

“Sorry babe, change in regime.” Scaara shrugged, keeping her voice cool and level. How fast could we quick draw? If all four of us shot them in unison, no calling for help would happen.

“Heard the old man bit it. Did you adopt a new clan into the fold while you’re at it?” Isabella asked, tilting her head to the two guys hovering behind her. While one spanned tall and the other a stout, short sort of guy, both packed the muscle I expected on a mercenary with the arsenal of weapons on their person to match.

“We’re not here to rehash with old friends—you know the orders,” stout and surly grumbled to Scaara.

She didn’t bother looking back to acknowledge him. “Yeah, yeah. Boss says execute the crew of the Desire.” Her eyes met Isabella’s with a fierce sort of intensity. My stomach turned—something in her words and the mercenaries at her back rang my warning bells.

However, the bitch was dead wrong if she believed I’d go down without a fight. Her finger slid to the trigger, and I tensed, ready to duck and grab for Matilda. Isabella held a similar guarded stance, hands on her knives and prepared for violence.

Scaara stared down Isabella, moving the muzzle straight in her direction. “Don’t want traitors to the clans to live.”

Before my hand dipped to my holster, two things happened at once.

Scaara swung her pistol to the right and fired a silent shot straight into the merc’s skull.

Isabella’s dagger thudded into the left one’s throat a second later.

A gasp escaped my throat at the same time my fingers wrapped around Matilda’s polished grip. The two mercenaries thudded to the ground, sending leaves and droplets of blood flying from the force of the fall. Geoff and Mordecai stood vigilant next to me, their hands palming weapons. Both of them relaxed their stances the second the immediate threats thunked to the forest floor.

Isabella threw her arms around Scaara, pulling her in for a fierce hug. “Some greeting—you had me worried for a second there.”

Scaara smirked. “Come on, Bell. You knew me better than that, I’d hope.” Her expression darkened as she glanced to the camp behind her. “We’d better hightail it out of here though. We’ll talk along the way. I have a lot to fill you in on.”

All five of us wove through the forest faster following Scaara’s lead. The woman knew the dips and turns of these woods, and she and the two now-dead mercs had managed to catch us unawares the first time.

“Shouldn’t we do something about the bodies?” I asked as we jogged along.

Scaara shook her head. “Not enough time. More important to get some distance between us and the caravan. That is if you don’t want to end up like the others who questioned the new regime.”

Isabella’s face darkened like a storm cloud, but she didn’t try to stop or interrogate. My heart pounded something fierce inside my chest. I had been two seconds away from getting shot, so I still reeled after the quick turnabout. My gaze slipped to the road every so often, half expecting a troupe of the clan to come traipsing down the way and interrupt our escape. If I’d been vigilant before, it didn’t compare to the hyper-vigilance governing my veins after the scare.

The safest place we could take her right now was the Desire, but unease clung to me. Could she be trusted? She’d killed those men instead of us—blood stretched a far way in securing trust, but I’d been betrayed many times before. Isabella caught my questioning gaze.

“We can take her back,” she said, as if reading my mind. The woman understood the way my gears clicked, as much as she got the concerns I’d have regarding newcomers entering our home. “Scaara was one of the few who fought for me when Julian manipulated the elder council into throwing me out.”

I fought the jealousy surging through over the bond Isabella and this woman shared, all part of the life she’d had before the Desire. As fast, I quashed it—we’d been in the trenches together long enough to curb any of those petty feelings.

The second we broke past the forest and returned to dust clouds and bustle of town, Scaara led us to a narrow back alley that stretched in the shadows behind the storefronts. “Where are we heading?” she glanced to me. “I can take us through all the shady sections to anywhere in town, but we have to stay out of the main stretch. Some of our folks are out picking up food at the market, and we don’t want to run into them.”

“Know a covert way to the docks?” I asked. Shadows stretched interminably towards the tall walls traveling the length of the town.

“Don’t I.” She flashed me a grin, her teeth bright white against the shadows she slunk under. “Let’s go.”

***

Within minutes, we’d made our way through alleys so tight I would’ve guessed they were dead ends. However Scaara pushed at a rotting door or ducked under overhangs with linen spilling over for privacy, and we’d crawl through to the other side. The smell of rotten apples, roasted pork, and packed dirt intruded through most sections, and in this part of town, sludge lined the cobblestones. By the time we reached the docks, I grew a new appreciation for the depths of this small town.

I cast a careful glance to either side of the long gray planks of the harbor before taking the lead. We raced across the deck at a steady pace until my hands pressed against the hull of the Desire, her timber warmed by the sun. Within seconds of our arrival, our crew dropped the rope ladder down, and I began the ascent. We’d done better than scout the place out—we’d found ourselves an insider who had answers.

The moment we boarded, unfriendly gazes honed in on one gypsy lass, and it sure as hell wasn’t Isabella.

“Cool it, kids. She’s here to help,” I called out, defusing the tension that sizzled in the air. It ebbed away, but I caught the errant glances and the way folks’ hands crept to their weapons. One sneaky move from her, and I wouldn’t even need to give the order. We’d suffered enough at the hands of the gypsies that our crew sought blood.

Geoff clapped a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll settle the bunch—why don’t you and Isabella have a chat with our new friend?”

“I’m sure it’ll go peaches and cream—I mean, that’s how things always turn out for us, right?” Crooking my finger at Scaara and Isabella, I then turned on my heel and made my way to the navigation cabin. At least there we could hold a private discussion for the time being. Not like the crew shouldn’t be in the know, but I’d rather they hear whatever answers Scaara had from me than floating in the breeze.

After the other two entered, I slammed the door shut behind me and plunked down in the brass-lined seat next to Geoff’s old desk. Isabella scored herself the weathered footstool tucked into the corner while Scaara leaned on the wall. If she expected hospitality, she’d boarded the wrong ship. All of the problems we’d had didn’t put me in the most hospitable of moods.

“So, spill.” I leaned back in the seat, ignoring the ache of my muscles.

Scaara shot a quick glance to Isabella who nodded, giving her the go-ahead, before she started. “Our leader passed on, and during normal times, the Elder passed on the responsibility to his son or daughter—however Anton was childless, leaving a vacuum in ascension.  Some of ours had been fraternizing with a different group under our noses, and when no leader emerged, they seized on the opportunity and brought in their people. Total takeover.”

That confirmed exactly what Geoff had told us earlier, meaning our favorite ex-employer was running the show.

“So not all the clan went along with this?” Isabella’s voice sharpened, as if she barely dared to hope. “Who’s running the show now?”

“The leader of the Red Oak mercenaries, Andreas Othmann. He left his cronies in charge—those two men we shot today included—and those of our clan who betrayed us.”

My eyes widened, connecting the dots. We’d been searching for our ex-employer’s identity years now to no luck. No wonder—the leader of the Red Oak mercenaries was known in name but few had seen his face, as he worked behind the scenes on anything. Which brought the greatest question to mind. The Red Oak mercenaries had so many resources at their disposal—so why outsource the job to steal the box from the Brits? The answer hovered out of reach, as if I missed one crucial connection in all of this.

“I will see the man dead one day.” The words came out of my mouth before I could help myself, filled with the dark venom twisting inside me at the memories of the carnage he’d created.

Scaara let out a bitter laugh. “Join the line. If we could manage to wrest control of the caravan back, I know the others would fight to get rid of the mercs and turncoat gypsies.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the ground.

“Well darling, you’re in luck,” I announced. “Because we’re in the market to get rid of those damn mercs and try to broker a peace with your clan based on a pretty little trinket we found. Feel like contributing to the cause?” Scaara blinked at me, stunned to speechlessness, and Isabella burst into laughter.

“Scaara, dear, meet the captain of the airship Desire and my dear friend, Beatrice Weston.” Isabella couldn’t restrain her smirk as she made the introductions.

She pursed her lips before sticking a hand out. “Well, if Bell here vouches for you, you’re good in my book.”

“Good to hear.” I clapped a hand on hers and shook. “Between us and the gypsies who haven’t aligned with that underhanded bastard, we’ll stick a clockwork grenade right in the center of their regime. Who’s ready for a hostile takeover?”

Chapter Twenty Six

By late afternoon, we’d concocted one hell of a scrapped together plan, and we’d be debuting onstage tonight. My nerves tingled—this approach was risky, and I’d be the first to say I didn’t like it, but out of our limited options, we’d chosen the only route that made sense. I wrinkled my nose and tried to bleach my mind clear of worries. Harping over everything that could go wrong would paralyze me. Second guessing didn’t belong in life or death situations.

A bitter, salty breeze swept past me, rifling strands of my hair. I leaned over the rail, watching the undulating waves lap up to the Desire. My number one enemy now had a name, which solidified our target into someone real, not some mystery man behind this all.

Geoff approached the rail beside me. “I don’t like it,” he murmured. “It’s an idiotic plan.”

“Well, that’s Captain Idiot to you.” I smirked. He wrapped his arms around me, and I rested my head against his chest.

“How much do we trust Scaara?” he continued, unwilling to let the matter drop. “Because her agenda may not align with ours, and your life’s on the line. I’m not willing to risk that.”

“But I am,” I gently reminded him. “I can guarantee she has her own agenda, but right now the enemy’s greater than both of us. Stealing her camp back from his control is step one, but you know as well as I do if we pull this off, we won’t be casual targets anymore. We’ll have made top priority on the Red Oak Industries hit list. Yet if we don’t go, how can I ask my crew to trust me? If they know their captain won’t risk everything for them, one by one they’ll drop, and a ship doesn’t run on dreams alone.”

Geoff heaved a sigh, which was muffled by my hair. For a moment we stood there in silence watching the crash of the waves to the pier. Our actions here put us on the ledge of this precipice, but we’d traveled so far. Once upon a time we’d been fumbling ahead in the dark, but these choices we made now, they were ours and they counted. Hell, they meant everything.

I turned around and planted a kiss on his lips. He cupped the back of my head, fingers tangling through my hair as he deepened it. His taste, warm cinnamon, melted me to my toes. My hands snaked around his waist. I didn’t want to let him go, knowing we’d be separated the moment I left this ship. His kiss grounded me even as it sent my mind reeling with honey sweetness that rolled through me.

For one blissful moment I forgot everything and lost myself in sensation—in the gentle sweep of his fingers, the caress of his tongue as it slipped inside my mouth. The heat between us was something of legend, and I understood what I risked every time either of us threw ourselves into the flames. But we’d chosen this life—we loved this life. And walking the keen edge of danger, his hunger grew desperate and fierce to match my own. At last, I pulled away.

“Can’t put this off any longer,” I whispered against his mouth. “But I know you’ll come for me.”

“Always and forever,” he murmured, running his fingers through my hair before stepping away.

Isabella’s quiet footsteps were like the tolling of the bell—I recognized them before I even looked up.

“Time to go, darling.” Though she attempted lightness, one look into her eyes reaffirmed the gravity there.

I gave Geoff one last kiss, bittersweet and short before I turned to face the crew. “You know the plan, folks,” I made my voice project across the deck. “Your first mate will be in charge—try not to run him as ragged as I do.”

“Captain, I’m going with you.” Jack thrust his chin forward as he approached. His expression turned serious as daylight and brooked no arguments. There’d been mention of bringing a third—increase our odds and all, but we couldn’t decide, and I wouldn’t order anyone to do this sort of job.

“Well then, we’d be honored to have you along for the ride.” I clapped a hand on his shoulder. He blinked in surprise. The poor guy cobbled together a whole argument to convince me, but I didn’t need to debate his courage. Fierce pride burned within me at what a turnaround he’d become from the meek lookout I’d once known, afraid to fire a gun. This ship had a way of corrupting you though—she took the broken, the scared, and the desperate and turned them into something powerful.

We descended the Desire fast, but on the way I memorized the grains in the wooden hull, imprinting them in my memory. My crew and my ship lent me the strength I needed. Because for once I wasn’t rushing in saving the day—today, we’d be the bait, which threatened to snap the few remaining threads of sanity I gripped to.

Rather than risking the main roads, Isabella took the lead through the moist and narrow back alleys Scaara had used, ones which kept us out of the limelight. We’d come armed, because even though we were bait, we weren’t idiots. If our gamble failed, I wouldn’t meet gunfire sans-weapon.

“So, can I start calling you Bell now?” I needled Isabella, channeling my nerves into something constructive—tormenting my crew.

“It’s an old nickname. If you’d like to drag me through the misery of revisiting it, fine, although I’m sure I can always find an inventive new name for you too.” She opened the rotting wood door and ducked through the narrow passageway. My shoulder scraped against the side of the wall with the maneuver, imprinting my chemise with some of the ugly muck gumming the crevasses. Why did I bother to buy nice things?

“You can have mine,” Jack grumbled from behind me.

A smirk rose to my lips. “Jackie-boy, I thought you loved your nickname. I’m hurt!”

“That would require you to have feelings, oh Captain of mine,” Jack responded. I raised an eyebrow. Well now, the boy had started to step up to the plate. Though it had been a long time coming, once you threw yourself in the middle of hell on earth with folks, any hero worship or glitz tended to die down—replaced with a healthy, unwavering respect.

“Good captains get them replaced upon coronation.” My lips curled into a grin as we slunk along the shadowy alleys.

Isabella let out a choked laugh. “Coronation? I think the power’s going to your head, darling.”

I sniffed the air, doing the best to stuff my anxiousness in the dark box it deserved. “Well, who says we need captains? I could be queen of the skies. Or king. I’m not too particular, but I’m not going to lie, I’d love to be able to stab people with a crown.” I flicked at the flaps of my aviator’s cap. “Not going to be doing much stabbing with this.”

“Well, when we get out of this, we can have a crew-wide discussion.” Isabella smiled as she spoke, the humor reaching her eyes. “Though I suspect you’ll have a mutiny from your subjects.”

The woods arrived at last. Unlike before, when we’d walked down this road with our caution-filled steps, this time I stomped right on in. Perhaps this bait thing wasn’t so bad after all. I kicked along a clod of dirt, not trying to be quiet in the slightest. Last thing I wanted was for a crew to sneak up on us, so we’d stand a better chance by announcing our presence as loudly as possible, all the while scanning the forest.

“You lived out here like this?” Jack asked Isabella while we walked along.

“We tended to travel the skies more back when I was a part of this clan. I think with our elder nearing the end they settled for awhile. Just a shame the Red Oaks and whatever bastards betrayed our people seized on the situation.” A bitter frown hit her lips. “I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if Julian was one of the lot.”

“Considering his part in our ship getting stolen, he’s probably off kissing Otthman’s ass as we speak,” I grumbled.

The further along we walked, the more the enormity of the situation hit me—like standing at the edge of a canyon and deciding whether or not to take the fall. But I sailed the skies—fear didn’t dwell long in folks like me. In the distance, the bright yellows of the caravan tents peeked out from the forest’s fringe, and folks of all sorts strolled around. Ornate copper lanterns with intricate floral patterns had begun to be lit—though night hadn’t fallen yet, it would in a couple hours.

A few men moseyed about in the main section of the path where the forest opened up into campground—apparently on guard. At the sight of us, their hands jumped to their pistols. Muzzles pointed our way, even though we still had quite a few yards to cross before we were in talking distance. To signal we wanted to talk, I kept my pistol holstered and waved my hands in the air. Isabella and Jack followed suit, though not with near the amount of enthusiasm I put into my effort.

“Guys, they’ll think you don’t have a pulse.” I glanced over to Isabella whose half-hearted hand waving was downright depressing.

“Darling, not all of us enjoy hopping around like an idiot on fire.” She passed me a flat-lidded gaze. While it didn’t deter the aim of their guns, they weren’t pulling triggers, so we continued our approach.

Sweat pricked my forehead the closer we got. No matter how bold you were, there was something unnerving about approaching the muzzle of a pistol aimed in your direction, a darkness in those depths promising destruction. However destruction hadn’t met Captain Bea Weston yet.

“You shoot us, and you’re asking for a world of trouble,” I called, using my captaining voice.

Two of the men dressed like the rest of Isabella’s kin in their loose harem pants and patchwork vests. Even without the mark, I’d be able to tell their delineation by the slight crouch to their stance—the bearing of a knife fighter, same as her. Though they wielded pistols, gypsies had an elegance to their training bred from the fighting style they were taught from childhood. A burlier guy hulked over them, and based on his arsenal and lack of expression, he was the Red Oak mercenary.

“From the looks of it, you’re the renegade crew our boss wants dead,” big guy called back. “Why shouldn’t we shoot you now and get it over with?”

I cast a wary glance to Isabella and Jack. We walked on a knife’s edge here. My palms itched to draw Matilda—she’d become my safety, my crutch. But here, I had to wield a different weapon—my words—which inevitably meant we were all screwed.

“Yep. We’re the big bad crew of the Desire that has you lot quaking in their boots,” I said. Before their fingers hit their triggers, I threw my hands up and continued. “But your boss is missing some information in all of this, the sort he’d pay for in blood.”

The three guards began approaching, step by careful step. Their guns never wavered, one trained each of us. “Don’t make any sudden movements—we will shoot, regardless of what intel you think our boss is interested in.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the words came out drier than bone. This whole not fighting thing was for the birds. “I’d stake on my life though, he’s interested in what we have to say. After all, he funneled so many resources trying to obtain this box, and we’ve got the location to barter.”

Total shit. We were bluffing to kingdom come. However, the one advantage we had in our favor is the fact only two living individuals witnessed the box drop into the sea—Geoff and me. And with the dogged way Andreas Otthman pursued us for it, even at the barest hint his cargo had survived, he’d come calling.

The two gypsies barely blinked, but the big guy’s grip tightened around his pistol, and his gaze sharpened. “I thought the box was lost,” he murmured. Big guy had been around for awhile.

“That’s what we wanted everyone to believe,” I spat. “Do you think we wanted to be hunted for the rest of our lives? I’m tired of dealing with your employer though, and I’m ready to throw the towel in. With certain accommodations of course.” After all, no bounty hunter or pirate crew who fought as hard as we had would approach and offer a prize without a couple strings attached.

“We’ll phone in the boss,” big guy gave commands to the gypsies, making the chain of command quite obvious.

“Gee golly, could we?” I couldn’t help myself. My own big mouth would be the death of me some day. But not this day.

“Bind ‘em up,” he gave the command, pulling a length of rope from around his belt.

“I won’t go into my own camp like chattel,” Isabella growled, the second one of the gypsies tried to bind her. She stomped on his foot, hard. He winged a punch her way, which she ducked.

The click of the safety on the other man’s pistol delivered a warning. “We only need one of you alive to deliver the message to the boss.”

“Don’t even try hurting her.” My eyes flashed. The guy with the gun stood close enough to deliver the old one-two, and I wouldn’t risk my crew, not for short tempers and idiots. My elbow snaked out, but a large palm smacked it to a stop. Before I could retract, big guy’s open hand formed a fist which flew my way. I crouched, missing the blow by a hair.

Thrusting out with my boot, I aimed for the junk, not caring I fought dirty. However, the other gypsy intervened, and his pistol crashed against the side of my face. My cheek stung something fierce, and the metallic tang of blood bloomed in my mouth. With my kick robbed of intention, I stumbled back, blinking away the pain.

Before my soles pressed solid on the ground, Jack dove into the fray. His fist descended on the pistol-whipping jackass, nailing him in the chin. I winced. Not the most calculated of moves. The gypsy wound back with a fierce swing of his stupid pistol and the retribution was immediate. However, big and burly stole my attention the second his boot thundered towards me. I swerved to the side, but such a large berth was tough as hell to avoid. The edge of the boot slammed against my waist with enough heft to send me staggering again.