Hatshepsut's Collar (The Artifact Hunters #2) (37 page)

Nolton laughed as the body was pulled closer to the airship. Hands reached out to grab the dead man as he neared, and the corpse was dropped on to the deck like a landed fish. The chain was unlooped from around his feet and pulled free of his hands. Nolton placed the toe of his boot under Lyons’ chest and rolled him onto his back. He surveyed the sodden corpse, black hair plastering to his face. The thorn in his side removed once and for all.

Only Lyons’ chit of a wife knew of his agreement with China, and no one would take the word of a trollop over that of a duke. No one would believe her, not without proof. All he had to do now was seed the evidence of Victoria’s illegitimacy and wait for the outbreak of war. Soon the people would carry him to the throne. Once he was king, no one would care how he came to his position, people would be relived to no longer have a mad bastard queen slaughtering their children.

A sneer pulled at his lips. Lyons thought himself unstoppable, how wrong he proved to be. “He who laughs last―”

“Laughs loudest.” Nate finished, his eyes snapping open, a wolfish grin on his face.

The crewmen looked on in horror. Several crossed themselves, sure they witnessed the undead rising.

“Why isn’t he d―” Nolton’s words turned into a high pitched scream.

A breeze whistled over Nate’s head. A harpoon, shot from the pod dangling on a chain below the clouds, passed millimetres from his scalp and the foot long barb buried itself in Nolton’s calf. The head came out the other side; blood flowed from both the entrance and exit wounds. A whoosh drowned out the screaming as liquid fire rained on to the Aurora from above.

The flotation bladders were encased in a fine metal mesh, designed to protect from attack. The greater the missile, the more easily it was repelled. A canon ball would bounce off, but if you were close enough, a single pin prick would pierce the reinforcing. Flammable oil was a million pin pricks, reaching through the mesh and stabbing at the bladder.

Above them, obscured by cloud, the sleek pirate ship spat her wrath and spewed burning oil that coated the flotation bladder and licked its way through the protective armour. The airmen looked to one another in astonishment and ran. Fire was a far greater threat to their safety than a talking corpse and they had practiced fire drills.

“One other thing, Nolton, no one touches my wife.” Nate wrapped the line attached to the harpoon around his forearm, jumped the railing, and dived over the side of the burning airship. The plunge of his weight snapped the rope downward and Nolton, attached to the other side, was yanked off balance and over the side with Nate. Both bodies hit the ocean below; Nate sliced in cleanly while Nolton landed feet first and pulled sideways by the harpoon in his leg.

The rope started to move skyward, winched upward to the Hellcat, pulling the barb and Nolton’s leg with it. He pulled a blade from his boot and began hacking at the rope, threads parting under his desperate attack until he broke free and dropped back, head first, into the water. Nate gave him a wave as he continued to rise.

The HMRAS airship sank toward the ocean, the fire eating holes in her bladder and she leaked valuable gas and altitude. Men readied the lifeboats in case the fire jumped to the ship below. Although she could survive as a water-bound boat, their journey would be much slower.

“Fuck!” Nolton screamed at the receding Hellcat as he struck out for his downed airship.

The men winched a sodden and exhausted Nate into the cargo hold of the Hellcat. He placed thankful feet on her wooden deck. In the time honoured fashion of grateful men, he gave and received slaps on the back as the door was swung shut and bolted.

“Who shot the harpoon?” Nate demanded as the excited chatter dropped away.

“Miguel, sir,” one of the crewmen answered him. The dangling pod still being winched back into its position and locked against the side of the airship.

Nate rubbed a hand through his dripping hair. “Damn, he’s a good shot. I felt it part my hair.”

Loki clattered down the spiral staircase, pointing his finger at Nate’s chest. “You know, I have waited for my invite to join you and that delicious hellion in bed. And I am a man of varied tastes. I like a spicy and exotic diet, but this freaky shit going on between the two of you? That crosses a line.” He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “She’s all yours. I don’t want things from your body coming back out my nose like I’ve just seen.”

“Finished?” Nate asked. “Where’s Cara?” Only a faint echo trickled through his body.

“Upstairs, she’s still on the bridge.” Loki cast his gaze up and down the supposed corpse. “Given you’ve been dead for an hour, she looks worse than you do.”

A frown pulled at him. “Her arm?”

“Simple flesh wound. She’ll be fine. Then the whole you being drowned thing took all her energy.”

Nate’s lip curled in a smile as he headed for top deck. Rumours of his death and revival would reverberate around London, and enhance his reputation. “How far are we from England?”

“Eight hours.”

“Take us to Leicester, Cara’s family estate. And contact Jackson, tell him to meet us there. We need to figure out our next move before we charge into London.”

He slid open the doors to the bridge. The woman who fought death for him leaned on the window ledge, the blanket still wrapped around her body. A blue tinge encircled her mouth and dark smudges under her eyes marred her pale skin. His name whispered from her lips.

Nate crossed the distance between them, placed one arm under her knees, and swung her into his embrace just as she collapsed from exhaustion.

woodpecker with a death wish woke Cara from a deep slumber with its
tap tap tapping
outside the window. Cracking one eye open, she saw the slivers of pale orange streaking over the sky outside the narrow window. She realised the woodpecker was a knock on the cabin door when murmured voices washed over her. The side of the bed dipped and a hand brushed loose strands of hair into place and off her face. Turning, she nestled her cheek into Nate’s palm, reassured by the warmth of his touch.
Not cold, clammy, or dead.

“Good afternoon.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “We’ve landed.”

Her brain processed his words in a partial fog. Exhaustion from the battle with death for possession of Nate still clung to her. “Landed? Where?”

“Leicester. I thought you would like to see your Nan, and it’s a good place to meet Jackson and plan our next step. He’s been keeping an eye on things.”

Questions crowded into her brain and a frown pulled at her forehead. “What time is it?”

“Late afternoon. We’ll stay tonight in Leicester and head for London first thing in the morning.”

Nate had yet to say a word about what happened, although to be fair, she had a vague memory of passing out as soon as she saw him. She raised her eyes to him, wondering where to start and if she had the energy to beat some sense into him.

He placed a finger on her lips. “We’ll talk later. Not now.” His words held a raw edge, and he clenched his jaw. He followed his finger with his lips, brushing a kiss over her mouth before turning and stalking away.

The Hellcat settled on the back lawn amongst the herbaceous borders. The crew made her secure for the night, lashing her to the large trees ringing the garden. Nan and her companion, Nessy, waited on the wide veranda while curious staff peered around the doorway and from out the windows. On spotting her granddaughter, Nan wiped her hands on a tea towel draped over her shoulder and then held her arms wide.

Cara raced up the stairs to the older woman’s embrace.

“It seems the old copper beech was just the start of your adventures.”

Cara managed to fend off a blush, holding the colour down by sheer willpower, although she refused to turn and look at the ancient tree. “Honestly, how did grandfather ever survive so long with you?”

Nan beamed. “He was a very satisfied man, who died with his boots on.”

Nessy surveyed the men climbing the stairs: Nate, Loki, Miguel, and Jackson. “Well, look what the scamp has dragged home with her. Pirates, henchmen, and naughty, naughty men―” A soft
whack
was followed by a startled squawk as the tea towel hit Nessy in the face. She pulled the cloth down, shooting daggers at her lifetime friend. “What was that for?”

Nan tapped her chin. “You’re drooling, dear, might want to mop up a bit.”

With an arm around Cara’s shoulders, the formidable woman led the way through the house, hollering for food and wine on the way. They clattered down the hallway to the large parlour with its overstuffed chaises and wingback chairs. A roaring fire danced and crackled in the enormous fireplace. Cara dropped onto the chaise, her body exhausted despite the deep dreamless sleep that claimed her for the entire journey.

Nate prowled like a lion surveying the land before settling. He leaned by the window, his gaze flicking to the door. “What’s it like in London?” he asked Jackson, standing at his side.

“Like we are a country at war with the entire world. Troops are everywhere. The navy has started transporting as many souls as possible, crammed below decks like cattle. Women stand in the streets crying; sure they’ll never see their men again. It’s bad. The mood in London swings against Victoria and rumours are its worse in the country.”