Sky Pirates (20 page)

“I’m sorry, but I can’t say,” she mumbled and stared at her boots.

“Oh, so now you’re suddenly all coy.” Dashwood sat forward in his chair. “That means I have stumbled on the truth. So I would caution you to think very carefully about your next answer, for it may determine whether I let you stay here or whether I put you out to the sky through one of the hatches.”

Elle stared at him in horror. “You wouldn’t make me walk the plank, would you? That would be … it would be ungentlemanly.”

Dashwood tutted and shook his head. “As I have told you before, I am no gentleman. But I
am
a businessman. And you, madam, are bad for my business. So either you tell me what this is all about or I will have no option but to get rid of you.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Elle stared at him. Despite her best efforts, she could not help the first glimmer of moisture that welled up in her eyes. Her gamble had failed. If she kept silent, Dashwood would set her off the ship and she’d be dead, either dropped from midair or left at a port where, being away from the protection of the ship, that demon dog would get her; if she told him the truth, he would sell her to the warlocks, and she would be dead anyway.

Dashwood’s expression softened. “Look, if I’m going to agree to go searching for treasure in snake-infested jungles, I need to know who—or what—I am taking along with me. Is that so unreasonable?”

“I suppose not.” Elle took a deep breath. “I—I possess the ability to slip into the gap sometimes. It’s a trick. An illusion, if you will,” she said.

Dashwood shook his head. “It all adds up now. Married to a warlock. The fact that you cast no shadow. The poker game. The whole business in London where my ship crashed.”

“As I said, there was nothing to be afraid of. You were perfectly safe.”

Dashwood sighed. “I hate all that Shadow realm stuff. Nothing but trouble ever comes out of messing with the Shadow. Apart from a few trinkets which I buy from a trusted source, I tend to steer clear of such things.”

“And a wise philosophy to live by, that is.”

“That still does not answer my question.”

“The gift I have … It—It is something I have no control over. It’s a family quirk that goes back generations. But it’s perfectly harmless—nothing you should concern yourself with … sir,” she added for good measure.

Dashwood stared at her for a few long moments without saying anything. Then he sighed and ran his hand over his jaw. “Fine. Whatever. As I see it, you are a passably good pilot and against all odds, my crew have grown to like you. Decent pilots are hard to find so, Shadow gift or not, you may still be worth more as part of my crew than not.”

“Do you mean it?” she said, almost too relieved to believe his answer.

He waved a dismissive hand. “As long as you give me your word that it’s just a small trick and not a serious source of power.”

“Yes, sir,” Elle said, mentally crossing her fingers behind her back.

“And please don’t tell anyone else. My crew are a superstitious lot and them knowing that we have someone of the Shadow on board will cause all kinds of problems.

Then it’ll be out the door with you. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal clear, sir,” she said.

“Very well. You are dismissed.”

“So we are going to find the treasure?” she said hopefully.

Dashwood narrowed his eyes. “Give me one reason why I should I risk my ship and my crew on an endeavor that may or may not yield a profit?”

“Those factors never seemed to bother you before.”

Dashwood gave her a look. “Touché,” he said.

Elle took a step closer. “Captain, I need to find the city. You are in the market for making some cash. I would have thought that those two things would be enough for us to make a bargain.”

Dashwood’s eyes narrowed. “I am a pirate. I love gold and money as much as the next man, but I have already lost more than one ship because of your schemes, so you will forgive me if I’m a little wary.”

Elle lifted her chin. “And I have lost a ship to yours. I think that makes us even, Captain.”

Dashwood suppressed a smile. “Oh, I don’t think we have even begun to get even, Mrs. Marsh. I had to abandon my first ship in midair. Do you even know how hard it is to keep a crew motivated when it’s your fault that the very thing that unites them has gone up in flames?” He had grown a little red around the ears as he spoke.

“As I’ve said before, I am very sorry that happened.”

“As sorry as I am about your friend?” he said.

Elle sighed. He could make a good argument when he wanted to, this captain. “Very well, I will let it go if you will.”

“Agreed,” he said.

“So, on to the business of Angkor. By my estimation, we could make our way to Bangkok and then onward—”

Dashwood held up his hand. “For the love of all that is good and beautiful in this world, will you just stop talking, woman? I should have put you in a life balloon and sent you on your way the moment I had taken your ship.”

“Then why didn’t you?” she said.

“Because, jettisoning a woman on her own across the desert with a wounded companion is so … so dishonorable that even I cannot justify the act,” he said. “You, madam, are nothing but trouble. You sow chaos wherever you go.” He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.

“Are you in or are you out, Captain?” Elle crossed her arms and lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “Because I am going to find the lost city of Angkor Wat whether it be with or without you.”

“Actually, I’m not,” Dashwood said. “We’ve been through the journals and you were right, there is no treasure in any of them. So apart from a few squiggles on the page you just showed me, I have no proof that the city exists. I have even less evidence to show that even if we find it—and that’s a big
if
—that there will be treasure.” He pressed his lips together. “And I
know
you are not seeking this place because you are looking for gold, which probably means there isn’t any and if you want to go there, then there is probably a whole lot of trouble waiting there. I will not let you use me or this ship for your own private agenda. So no, count me out, thank you very much.”

“You said you would!”

“I never said any such thing,” Dashwood said.

“That is a very foolish decision, Captain. I know you will regret it,” she said, desperately trying to bring him round.

Dashwood shook his head. “No, mark my words: If you want this, then it can only be bad for me. This is
probably the first sensible decision I have made since I became captain of this vessel. I have a hold full of Egyptian artifacts which need a buyer, as well as the mess in San Francisco to sort out. That’s more than enough trouble for the moment.”

“Ah yes, I believe you are somewhat out of pocket after that last little incident,” she said. “Tell me, when was the last time you paid the crew?”

Dashwood turned red. “I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t in need of some cash. I might consider going after treasure, maybe in a month or perhaps three, once I’m ready, but I am not turning this ship around to blunder across a jungle at the mere say-so of a known troublemaker. I have learned my lessons when it comes to you, Mrs. Marsh. My decision is final.”

“I think you will find, Captain, that I am a very determined woman once my mind is made up. I must find the city and I will not rest until it is done.”

This is what she had resolved in the silent hours of her shift. She needed to find Marsh and confront him. She needed to know where she stood.

“Not on my ship you don’t.” Dashwood rubbed his temples “Now if you’ll kindly excuse me, I have work to do and you’ve given me an almighty headache.” He shooed her away. “For the second time, you are dismissed.”

Elle turned back from the door to say something, but met with Dashwood’s most forbidding and captain-like stare.

“Or would you like to spend a few more nights in the brig for disobeying an order?” he said.

She did not reply. He was still her captain and orders were orders. And she really did not want to spend another night in the freezing cold brig. She was too tired for that.

“As you say, Captain,” she said, relenting.

The captain’s sudden about-face was very frustrating. But there had to be a way, she thought, as she made her way to the mess. She would get some sleep and try again later. Perhaps she would find a way to send word to her father or the solicitors that managed the Greychester estate. Once they knew she was safe, and on an expedition, she might be able to convince them to put up the money to hire Dashwood and the
Inanna
.

Although she seriously doubted Dashwood would agree to such an arrangement, no matter how much money she offered. Plus, she was almost entirely sure that neither her father nor the partners of Messrs. Jinx, Hubble and Trust would consider such funding a wise investment. She groaned inwardly. Why was life always so complicated? No, there had to be a way to do this without incurring the wrath of probate lawyers—all she needed to do was find it.

LONDON

Patrice stared across the snow-covered lawns that spread out before the house on his estate. Winter looked to be harsh this year and the snow lay thick on the ground. But even in the freezing cold, Mr. Capability Brown’s gardens looked breathtaking.

He turned from the window and stretched his hands out in front of the huge fire blazing in the fireplace. His days of being cold and hungry were definitely over, but somehow, no matter how much money he had, he was still unhappy. The missing Oracle formed the center of this discontent.

It had been a full three weeks since his trip to Paris, but there had been no further word about the Lady Greychester.

Patrice rang the bell and Mr. Chunk appeared. “You rang, sir?”

“Ah yes, Mr. Chunk. Please fetch the Summoner from downstairs. I would like a word with him.”

Mr. Chunk inclined his head and retreated. A few minutes later, there was a shuffling, scraping sound outside the door before the Summoner was deposited on the rug before Patrice.

The man trembled and blinked at the bright light of the room. He had been held in the dark cellar ever since
Patrice had grabbed him off the street and dragged him back to England with him.

“Monsieur. I see you are still alive,” Patrice said.

The man fell to the floor and started sobbing. “Please. Please allow me to go home. I have done nothing to deserve this,” he begged.

“Now, now. That’s quite enough of that,” Patrice said. “You know my terms, sir. You may go as soon as that creature you summoned brings me the girl. Now tell me quickly how things fare with your pet. You are filthy and it’s leaving a mark on my rug.”

“Please, the hound has no news. He caught her scent a couple of days ago … f—followed her into the Shadow realm, but she escaped. D—Disappeared through a rent in the barrier. He has been hunting and hunting for her, but there is no sign,” the Summoner whimpered through cracked and broken lips.

Patrice reached back and slapped the Summoner in the face. “Good grief, man. You are supposed to be a powerful occultist with the command of beasts from the darkest parts of the Shadow realm. Stop sniveling and get ahold of yourself.”

The Summoner just wheezed in distress in the place he had fallen.

Patrice slapped him again. “How can she vanish with no trace? I thought your hound is supposed to be unstoppable. Is he or is he not the pup of Cerberus himself?

“He is, he is,” the Summoner said. “But it’s as if she has simply vanished into thin air. He will find her. She cannot hide forever. We just h—have to be patient.”

Patrice balled his fist in frustration and slammed it down on his desk. “In the name of all that is Dark! I am sick of waiting and of hearing empty promises!”

The Summoner flinched and started keening softly.
“Please let me go home. I have a wife and a child. I am an insurance clerk, for goodness’ sake!” he whined.

“Mr. Chunk!” Patrice bellowed. “Take him back to the cellar. And send to the village for a bricklayer.”

“Right away, sir,” Mr. Chunk said.

“Monsieur, you had better hope that your hound starts sniffing properly. You have one day, and if I do not have a clear idea as to where the girl is by then, I shall instruct the bricklayer to close off the small cellar. You will rot there until the place becomes your tomb.”

“No! Please. I will do better … Please!” the Summoner started babbling hysterically as Mr. Chunk dragged him off.

Patrice sat staring at the sifting snow for a long time as he thought things over. Thin air, he mused. It was just like Eleanor to confound everyone with the simplest of tricks. Patrice smiled suddenly as the realization hit him. Of course! How could he have been so stupid?

He stood and walked over to his drinks cabinet where he poured himself a glass of the finest cognac. He smiled slowly as he took a deep drink from his snifter. He knew where to find Eleanor Chance. It was time to take matters in hand.

Finishing his drink, he set the glass down and headed upstairs to select the clothes he wished to pack. He needed to go to London without delay.

The Dirty Mermaid was not an easy pub to find. Hidden along the dank alleyways of the Isle of Dogs, far out on the other side of London, the only sign that it was, in fact, a tavern was a crude image of a mermaid in a rather lewd pose carved into a plank above the door. This was the place where pirates, bounty hunters and other men of general ill repute drank. Patrice loved it immediately.

“I’d like to say a few words,” Patrice said to the landlord as he stepped into the center of the tavern.

“We don’t talk to strangers round these parts, sir. ’Specially not ones in fancy coats. Best be on your way before there’s trouble,” the landlord grunted and turned his back on Patrice.

Patrice held his temper in check. It would be so easy to transform the greasy man into wallpaper paste but, tempting as it was, it would not serve his purpose right now. A little restraint was needed sometimes.

Instead, he lifted a purse from his coat pocket and dropped it on to the table with a soft, expensive-sounding clunk. The noise drew a few stares.