by Michael Rigg
"Ah yes," Hearse smirked. "I forgot. I tend to forget a lot of things these days." The purser didn't respond. He only glanced down to the ocean far below, turned as pale as the moon, and swallowed hard before closing his eyes and reminding himself not to look down again.
Hearse nodded toward the submarine below. "I need to get down there. Make that happen. Now." The purser swallowed again. "Sir, I believe the transport hovers to the fleet have been locked until morning at Mr. Thorne's—"
"I don't believe you heard me, juicy human." Hearse turned to face the purser and took a step toward him on the thin catwalk. "I said you will make that happen... now!"
Visibly trembling, caught between his fear of falling from the open accessway and his fear of the ghouls, the purser nodded and started to back away. "Y-Yes, sir. I-I'll see what I can do, sir."
"And be quick about it!"
"Y-Yes, sir."
As the purser turned to leave, his way was suddenly blocked by a young ship's officer who wasn't afraid of the open gangway. The blond boy jogged along the narrow catwalk, even along the lengths that had no guard rails, and stopped where the purser blocked his path. The kid called out, "Mr. Hearse, sir, there is a wireless for you."
Hearse turned and headed toward the roadblocked purser and the messenger. "Is it from Thorne? If it is, tell him—"
"It's from a lady, sir," the kid said as he shook his head. "She claims she's the...." The boy stopped, glancing to the nervous purser and beginning to share in the larger man's fear. "Um..."
"Out with it!" Hearse snapped as he stepped up behind the purser and clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Who is she?"
"She claims to be the mother of your child, sir."
Both the nervous purser and the boy stared at Hearse as his expression fell. His red eyes softened and his long face loosened as he pondered the possible meaning of such an unexpected contact. "You're certain?"
The boy nodded. The nervous purser glanced between the two and barely had time to draw a breath as Hearse's grip on his shoulder dug into his flesh through his coat. As the purser cried out in pain, Hearse lifted him single-handedly over the railing and dropped him into the ocean hundreds of feet below.
The kid raised his hands defensively and backed off a few steps before turning and running back inside. He was gone before the purser's screams ended in a bone-crushing splash.
Hearse followed him back to the wireless shack.
~~~~~~~
Bryce hadn't said another word to Lucien since they'd discovered Alice was taken. Instead, he sprinted back out to their plane and cranked up the engine. By the time the portly butler caught up to him, the plane was ready to taxi.
Lucien knew what was going through Bryce's mind. He'd seen the feelings in the man's eyes for Alice and had no doubt they were about to fly into the belly of the beast. There was only one problem.
They were flying into the belly of the beast.
Bradford Thorne's corporate muscle extended across the entire Empire. The chance that they'd encounter a single ship, airship or submarine was unlikely with something as big as Atlantis in front of him. Thorne would have an entire fleet—probably guarded by scores of troops, planes and warships—to protect his investment.
Once the plane was in the air, its engine whining at full throttle as Bryce banked toward the northeast, Lucien pulled his goggles over his spectacles and called out above the prop wash, "Captain! Captain, I don't mean to be the fly in your ointment, but have you considered exactly how we'd get through Thorne's line of defenses in order to rescue her? We can't simply fly into a nest of dragons!"
There was no answer, so Lucien leaned forward and tapped Bryce on the shoulder, shouting again. Bryce responded by tapping the earpiece on his pilot's cap, indicating that he couldn't hear.
Lucien sat back and scowled. He knew Bryce heard him. He only hoped the man had a plan by the time they got to the fleet.
~~~~~~~
Teivel Hearse practically kicked open the door to the wireless shack aboard the Victory. The young radio operator jumped up from his seat, almost choking himself on the tangle of wires from the bulky headset he wore. He held out the headset to Hearse and backed into his partner, the young officer who had gone to fetch the ghoul for his radio message.
Hearse took the headset and pulled it on over his ears, then he adjusted the microphone with his left hand while he snapped the fingers of his right, pointing to the wireless and glaring at the operator to return to his seat and work the controls. "How do you operate this infernal—" Then he heard her voice.
"Hearse. It's Dorothea."
The veins popping in Hearse's neck, the deep purple color of his fuming skin, the ember glow of his red eyes, all subsided as he heard her voice. Of course he wasn't in love with the witch. He had used her. He used her to set a plan in motion that blossomed in his mind the moment he laid eyes on her. His feelings softened only because of the realization that his plan was falling back into his lap, Thorne or no Thorne. "My darling. Are you well?" It was the plan he spoke to adoringly, not the witch.
"Cut the bullshit, ghoul! I'm coming for you!"
Pressing the ear cups to his ears, Hearse glanced between the two radiomen, meeting their wide eyes as if they could hear what she had just said. They couldn't, of course, but their terrified expressions seem to fit Pandora's challenge. Turning slightly, so he wouldn't see them, Hearse said, "I know what you did. I know you killed them all."
"Just the beginning."
"It doesn't matter the power you think you have, my beloved, you cannot stand against me."
"I wouldn't put money on that."
Hearse scowled. "Where are you?"
"I'm in the air, and I'm on my way."
"Foolish girl, do you realize the stupidity of this errand upon which you're embarking."
"Yeah. And I'm doin' it anyway."
"Dorothea, listen, if you—"
"I'm going to end you, you monster!"
Hearse turned to the two radiomen and made a jerking motion with his head toward the door. The two young officers didn't waste a second, jumping and dashing out, shutting the heavy door behind them. Hearse sat in the wireless chair and spoke in a low voice, "Do you realize they'll shoot you down before you get within sight of this fleet?"
"Then if you ever want to see me—or your hell-spawn baby—I suggest you tell them to let me land."
"Dorothea! You—"
The sudden click and miles of air static told him she'd terminated the call.
Hearse pulled off the headset and dropped it on the wireless desk. Then, releasing a long exasperated breath, he ran his long-nailed fingers through his hair and thought quickly about what to do.
Standing and spinning on a heel, Hearse stormed out of the wireless shack, past the two scared officers, and rushed to the bridge of the Victory to speak with Admiral Terrace.
~~~~~~~
It took over an hour at full throttle to reach the fleet, but by the time Pandora arrived, Hearse had spread his orders throughout every airship and vessel that the approaching plane was to be allowed through the vanguard and have full access to the Victory.
Pandora's jaw dropped when she saw what Thorne and Hearse had done. No fewer than a dozen airships, many of them armed for war, floated in the air over the Atlantic ocean, the moon and starlight glowing off their surfaces making them look like fish suspended in a black and quiet sea. Far below, on the surface of the ocean, Pandora saw the fleet of ships forming a lighted ring; the entrance, she figured, to the city of Atlantis far below.
Banking directly toward the largest of the airships, she gunned the kite's engine. Figuring a squadron of fighters would burst out of the ship at any moment to shoot her down, she pressed forward with every intention of flying into the bridge of the Victory and bringing down the entire operation. As she imagined the airship falling on the seafaring fleet below, fire and metal raining down, Pandora felt an odd peace knowing that she will have killed Teivel Hearse and his demon seed
with one stroke.
But, as she roared still closer with no squadron in sight, she changed her mind. At the last minute, already among the airships, Pandora banked hard to the right and swooped around the Victory. She was close enough to see the stunned faces on the ship's gunners, but they never fired a shot. Then she had another thought: Hearse did this. He wanted her to land so he could capture her, keep her safe so their baby could be born and raised to be the most horrific monster the world had ever known.
She decided to give him what he wanted.
Pandora knew she was strong enough to resist him this time, knew she was powerful enough to defend herself against swords and bullets, so she decided to risk the face-to-face confrontation and see his eyes when she killed him.
Running on pure fury and vengeance, the young witch turned her kite around and headed for the docking arms of the Victory.
~~~~~~~
Bryce and Lucien were still quite a distance from the Thorne & Hearse fleets, their plane vibrating madly as Bryce pushed the engine to its limits.
Lucien tried desperately, for the fourth time, to get his master's attention. "Bryce! I beg you to consider what you're doing! Think this through, man! If you fly us headlong into Bradford Thorne's military arm, you'll get us all killed—us and Alice! What good would it do! Bryce, you can't save her if you're dead!"
Still no answer.
"Bryce, have you considered that Atlantis is below the waves? How are you going to land this plane on a submersible?"
It was then that the engine finally idled down and Bryce turned his head slightly to acknowledge his butler and co-pilot.
Lucien pressed on. "We need a plan, Bryce."
Bryce thought about Pandora, thought about her winging her way to Seven Orchards. By the time she arrived, she'd learn that he, Lucien and Alice never made it home, that they were probably—as Lucien put it—in the belly of the beast.
So he couldn't call on her. He wouldn't. Bryce didn't want to put her in this kind of danger, especially not so soon after losing her father. There was no telling what a fired up witch would do. Over his shoulder, he called, "I'm open to suggestions, Lucien, or has all this yelling over hundreds of miles been to add exhaust to the air and nothing more?"
Lucien reached forward and clapped his Captain on the shoulder. He smiled brightly under his goggles. "Perhaps you can call Strong for reinforcements!"
"No," Bryce answered quickly with a head shake. "I can't! I pulled out every last favor just to get this plane! I can't hit Strong up again. I owe him too much already."
Lucien chewed his lip as he considered their next possible move. "Well, what if—?"
Bryce held up a hand, then tapped his ear cup after twirling his finger in the air, an indication that he was getting a call.
Lucien nodded. Their prayers would be answered after all. It was probably Strong on the wireless now, calling to let Bryce know that he was aware of the situation and that he was sending reinforcements....
Lucien's thoughts trailed off as he turned his eyes toward the sight that caught Bryce's attention.
~~~~~~~
"We have a visual on them, captain," the deck officer reported.
Everyone on the bridge of the HMS Independence wore a smart, dark-gray Confederate naval coat, with one exception.
The captain nodded to the officer and said, "Contact them by wireless and let them know we will follow their course, then notify the rest of the Lady's fleet."
"Aye, sir."
Captain Jordon turned to the Lady of Grace standing next to him and explained, "Lady McFerran, we have located Captain Landry and are prepared to render assistance."
"Very good, captain. Have all ships prepare for combat. Prepare to launch fighter squadron escorts to aid Captain Landry."
Jordon nodded. "At once, my lady."
Lydia McFerran allowed herself a tight smile as she saw Bryce's small plane wag its wings in thanks.
~~~~~~~
As Bryce and Lucien's fighter revved up and pointed toward the Atlantic, Lucien looked over his shoulder and grinned at the awe-inspiring site of fourteen battle-ready Confederate airships and their escorting wings of battle kites.
"Guess the cavalry has arrived, Bryce!"
Eyes forward, Bryce Landry nodded. He hoped it would be enough to get Alice back.
CHAPTER 35, “Return to Atlantis”
The submarine pulsed, its rivets and plating puckering and pinging with each fathom into the depths we dropped, faster and faster with the churning and thumping engines. As we descended into the salty blackness, all I could do was hope and pray that I'd get through this alive, that Bryce would somehow find me—if he was still alive—and that Bradford Thorne would stop leering at me like some lecherous animal.
"Not hungry, my dear? You really should try to eat something. There's no telling how long this journey will last."
I had been removed from the bunk and re-tied to a chair at an ornate dark wooden table Thorne's goons brought in and set up. My left hand was free, though the coils of rope stretching between my neck and ankles still pulled tight and still threatened to strangle the life out of me if I moved too much or too quickly.
Thorne's men left after they re-wrapped me, then he came back into the room. I couldn't say why exactly, but the glass helmeted corporate mogul remained hidden out in the hall any time I was moved or re-tied. Maybe he was afraid of me. Maybe rumors of my skill as a martial artist, if indeed I really was, preceded me. Whatever the case, he only made himself visible around me if he was sure I was secured.
The meal laid out before me included steak and a baked potato, but since I was only allowed my left hand and a spoon (again, I assumed, more of Thorne's paranoia) there wasn't much I could do even if I was hungry. Instead, I sipped the red wine he poured for me, but only a tiny bit. I needed to stay alert and functioning for the next opportunity I'd have when they untied me. I figured he'd have to let me completely loose if he wanted me to help him with gaining access to Atlantis. Although... I still had no clue how that was going to work.
"I'm not hungry, thanks." I laced my voice with disdain for the scrawny pale little bastard and kept my eyes on him, trying to make him as emotionally uncomfortable as I was physically. Thorne dabbed the corners of his mouth with a white silk napkin and said, "Well, then, I think I've had enough. Truly, Alice, I really do mean to be a better host than you're giving me credit for."
"I find that hard to believe, Mr. Thorne, when I'm all trussed up with a noose like this."
He wagged a finger and twitched his mustache. "Oh, now tut-tut Miss Alice. You know full well I'm not a trusting man, particularly since my company was infused with ghoul blood." When he said that, his face paled even more and his scalp wrinkled under the glass dome helmet.
"So you have a ghoul working with you now, huh?"
Thorne chewed his tongue, studying me through one half-squinted eye. "It's a despicable creature, Alice, a vile abomination of human error."
"Is that so?"
He nodded. "Mm. That's so." Then he drew a quick breath and added, "You're an enigma. I can sense that. I'm not saying that you're a witch or anything, but I find it odd that the entire world seems to rotate around you. I mean... First, a contract—a multimillion dollar contract—is forfeit. A manhunt ensues. A ghoul rises to human levels of power. A military mobilizes. And now the entirety of the Imperial fleet seems focused on protecting you."
"Is that so?"
"Don't toy with me, Alice." Thorne sat back and folded his arms. He tilted his head and narrowed his beady eyes before licking the grease from his lips. "What's your story? Who are you?"
There were a couple ways I could play this. I could play it off like he was crazy and I was no more different than any other woman in this reality. Or, I could tell him the whole truth, all the way down to the nightmares and stories of Clockwork Carpenters with beady eyes like his and silver hair, phantom dreams and time travel.
If I maintained I was a nobody, he
wouldn't buy it. Thorne wasn't a stupid man, and he had a point. And, as I kept telling Bryce, this was all my fault. If, on the other hand, I told him the complete truth, he'd not only believe me (my eyes glanced to his ridiculous glass helmet), he'd protect me. He'd keep me safe at any cost. I could easily see by his vast material riches, and all the opulence crammed into this tiny submarine cabin, that he was protective of things that brought him wealth and success.
A woman from another time and place might be very valuable to a man like Thorne.
So I told him the truth.
I started with, "I'm not from your reality," and ended with, "And that's when your thugs kidnapped me here." I left out small details about my time with Bryce, his professed love for me, the incidents at the estate at Seven Orchards, and a few other things like how I took down Thorne's lackey, Perek Grubbs. When it came to the pirate ship, I fictionalized a series of happenstances leading to our escape and credited Bryce for most of it. I didn't want Thorne to know I could defend myself.
He sat back in his chair at the table across from me, arms folded the entire time. Periodically, his beady eyes flashed and glimmered. Other times he'd raise his hand to his ridiculous mustache and twirl it with his thin girlish fingers. After I finished my story, I winced against the pain of the rope around my neck and he smiled.
"Do you know something, Alice? I believe you."
"I have no reason to lie," I said, making a theatrical show of wincing painfully against the ropes. I was only half-acting. I was starting to get cramps in my neck and legs.
"Do you know what else?"
"No clue, Mr. Thorne."
"You, my dear, are going to make me wealthy beyond all imagination." He stood up and began to pace in the small area of the room not cluttered by his junk. The wheels started turning behind his eyes and he gestured excitedly as he re-built the empire in his mind with me at the center of it. Well, off-center. "I once had a girl in my employ who maintained a watch on my ghoulish partner, but she was sloppy; lost her head. It was a shame to let her go because I was beginning to develop feelings for her. She did so much to wipe away the frustrations in my life, but there was something missing about our relationship, and I'm not speaking merely of intimacy—that was inevitable. I'm talking, my dear, about rarity."