The First Sin

by Jessica Brawner

  Deciding that silence was the better part of wisdom in this case, I took a sip of wine and watched as his desire to follow orders, warred with his desire for me.

  “I cannot let you escape. I must fulfill my duty to His Holiness. I must treat you as the prisoner that you are. You will be confined to your quarters with meals brought to you there until we reach Rome.”

  Staring out the porthole he said, "Jacqueline, why? Why couldn't you be that pretty little empty headed noble that I met in the palace?"

  “Look at me Charles.” The tone was gentle, and I held his gaze when he turned to me. “Is that really who you would want me to be? Frivolous, vain, and well above your station? Someone who would never even look at you twice, who you could idealize, but not approach? Or worse, who would toy with you, then discard you without a second thought? My life would be considerably easier though substantially more boring if I had married, stayed on my estate and been the good little contessa that the world wanted me to be.”

  I leaned forward, my shirt hanging open slightly, showing the curve of one breast. I saw his gaze travel down my neckline and pause. Marie was better at seduction than I, but I had watched her, and I learned. "Don't you see, if I was like everyone else then we would never have met. But we have met, and we have time to spend together. Let us make the most of the time while we have it." I tried to put as much earnestness into my voice as I could, but after the events of the night before it was difficult, and my voice cracked.

  He squeezed my hand gently and brought it to his lips for a kiss. "Jacqueline, as charming as I find you to be, as much as I would wish it otherwise, the reality is we cannot be together."

  I ground my teeth in frustration. "‘Cannot’ sounds to me only like you do not wish to try. I have overcome more ‘cannots’ in my life than most people."

  Charles had an infuriatingly amused look on his face. "And do you see some way around the fact that I am charged with arresting you and returning you to Rome."

  I waved my fingers in the air dismissively. "Details. Mere details. As there is no evidence I have committed this crime. One could say you kidnapped me so we may spend time together. I do not know where your Miter is, I do not have it in my possession, and for the time we are onboard this ship, it is immaterial." I kept my tone light, raising my wine glass in toast. "But surely a man such as yourself does not lack for desirable female company."

  He chuckled and looked away. "Yes, I suppose my desire to spend time with you is as good an explanation as any."

  "Now you understand, because you have kidnapped me it is requisite I attempt to escape as often as possible. Not, mind you, that any of these attempts will succeed. But I must give you reason to chase me." I said this in a teasing tone as I winked at him over my glass with a cheerful look, though in reality I very much wanted to strangle him.

  "And should these escape attempts occur and fail, you would be well within your rights to demand recompense in the form of a kiss." I smiled slowly, pretending to ponder the thought of kissing Charles. I could see now that his shoulders had loosened and that he was at least playing along with my inappropriate teasing, if not taking me too seriously.

  "Now that hardly seems fair. If it turns out I am a good kisser, then you shall forever be trying to escape, and I shall have to forever chase you. But if I am a bad kisser, then you shall stop trying to escape, and I shan't have the pleasure of kissing you." He took a sip of his own wine.

  I tried not to remember Tyler's blood on my hands as Charles and I bantered back and forth. "That is indeed a conundrum. And I myself must not be too good at escaping, lest I not have the chance to receive kisses. And yet I must not be bad at escaping, or I am doomed to stand trial in Rome. It is indeed a fine line to walk."

  I took another sip of my wine. "I have already tried to escape once and failed. Do you demand your recompense?"

  "I will take only what is freely given. But should you so choose, I could hardly stop you."

  Noting that he did not let go my hand, I ran my thumb across his knuckles, and stroked his palm with my fingers. It seemed to me he was uncertain how to proceed, so I tried to show him the way. With a second glass of wine he seemed more amenable to my advances. I subtly and not so subtly encouraged him.

  When we finished dinner he insisted on walking me back to my cabin. Standing outside the door he smiled tentatively and bent his head down for a kiss. I smiled and turned so his lips brushed my cheek and bid him good night. I would play this out a bit longer before I appeared to surrender to his charms. Charles, I could see, relished the chase more than the catching.

  Once in my cabin I pondered my poison hairpin. It would only make Charles sleep. I would only have one shot. If, as I surmised, The Inara was somehow below me, then I would need to slip over the railing and climb down the outside of the hull without being detected. No mean feat.

  Charles wouldn’t be merciful a second time, no matter how much we joked. I wasn’t yet sure if he was serious about confining me to quarters or not. The next night would be soon enough to implement my plan.

  He had come to my quarters instead of summoning me to his, sending the food in ahead of him. At dinner Charles looked troubled. "Did I misread you, Jacqueline? I felt certain you would allow me a kiss."

  "I would welcome a kiss, but I prefer men who are bold in their actions. I have no interest in a man who, on being told that a kiss would be welcome, then hesitates for fear of offending."

  Charles nodded, considering my words. "I shall keep that in mind for future. We are nearing Rome. We only have a few days left with one another." A flicker of sadness crossed his face. "Despite some challenges, I have very much enjoyed our time together."

  "You could prolong our time together by not delivering me to Rome." I looked entreatingly at Charles.

  Dinner dragged on and my stomach clenched as I thought about what I would have to do to escape. After dinner and a few rounds of cards Charles stood to go. At the door, he paused and looked back at me. "Stay a bit longer? It's been a lovely evening; I hate for it to end,” I said entreatingly.

  He looked surprised. "Certainly, Jacqueline."

  I smiled and took his hand, kissing his knuckles and drawing him to me. Drawing his arms around my waist I slid my hands behind his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Pressed as I was against him, I felt him stirring and smiled. I pulled the pin from my hair, releasing it to tumble over my shoulders. He smiled appreciatively and ran his fingers through it. When he leaned down again, I twisted the hairpin so the needle extended, and jabbed it into his neck.

  Charles hissed in pain and grabbed at the needle. I pulled it out and stepped away from him. "What did you do?" He asked, staggering around, trying to catch his balance.

  "Don't worry, my dear. You will make a full recovery. You will want to lie down, though." I nodded at the bed. He gave me an angry stare and lunged towards me.

  "I'm going to..." But his words trailed off as the sleeping dose took effect and he toppled to the floor.

  "Yes, I'm sure you will." I turned him so he was on his back and covered him with a blanket from the bunk. "Sleep well. You are a delightful kisser." I whispered to him, then tiptoed to the door and opened it quietly. The hallway was clear. Sneaking up on deck I kept to the shadows as much as possible, making my way to the airship's stern. Coils of rope were stacked neatly, stored for convenient use. I tied one end of a rope around a heavy barrel, using the other end to create a sling for myself. I tucked in behind the barrels and tapped the coded sequence on my arm. It flashed green briefly and I heard a thumping from below. I had deciphered Nina’s message correctly.

  Feeding the rope over the side of the ship I waited until I couldn’t see any of the watchmen. Taking a firm hold, I slid over the edge, leaning my weight backwards against the rope, my feet planted firmly on the hull.

  I was still in the shirt the crew-member had given me, and I didn't have my flying leathers, so the air felt cold and damp. Footsteps and voices were coming towards
me. The tone and cadence sounded casual, so I kept walking down the hull, willing them not to look this way. They passed by, still chatting and didn't see me.

  Once I had passed the swell of the side of the hull I could see The Inara. She was tethered, trying to break free. My arms were burning and I could feel my grip on the rope slipping. Taking a deep breath, I pushed off the hull with my legs, allowing more of the rope to slip through my fingers. The sling caught me, and when the rope hit the side of the hull, I was propelled upwards towards The Inara.

  I missed. My fingers grasping at air, inches from her webbing. I swung back out past the side of the hull and glanced upwards just in time to see one of the crew coming peering over the edge. He spotted me and opened his mouth to raise the alarm. I put my finger to my lips and he looked at me quizzically right before I swung back under the hull.

  I was able to pull myself onto the airhopper this time and quickly removed the rope tying me to the ship and untethered The Inara. I could hear shouting from the airship above, as I turned The Inara. Unfortunately I didn't have as much speed or maneuverability as I would have liked because of the balloon, and no easy way to stow it while in the air. For the moment I was still hidden beneath the ship, but that wouldn’t last long. An awful thought occurred to me as I pulled my harness tight. I can't go back to The Indiana, they'll just follow me and take the ship.

  I turned The Inara northeast. I wasn't exactly sure where I was but picking a direction and staying the course seemed like the best idea.

  They had their airhoppers deployed and in the air faster than I thought possible. Pushing the throttle on The Inara as far as I could, I felt the vibration of her engine as she roared into the darkness of the night.

  A beam of light from one of the Vatican airhoppers pierced the darkness beside me, a more powerful version of the lamp they had used when searching The Indiana. A second light appeared on the other side. The lights moved in a search pattern, rotating back and forth until one of them highlighted me. I dropped altitude, but a beam found me again. Changing direction, I doubled back to get behind them. The search lights and airhoppers were behind me but I was now headed directly back towards their ship. I turned The Inara east, perpendicular to my original course. The air currents were changing, and I could feel the updraft that signaled land nearby.

  Shots rang out from behind me and I ducked reflexively. They weren’t aiming at me however, but the balloon on The Inara. Bullets tore through the petite poche; the balloon collapsed and The Inara plummeted. I very nearly cheered. The shoulder straps on my harness bit deep into my shoulders, holding me onto the seat. The Inara was specifically designed to fly without a balloon, but it would take a moment for her stabilizers to kick in. Grabbing the stabilization lever I waited. It was hard to judge in the dark, but if I pulled up right before I hit the water I might be able to lose some of my pursuit. After a count of thirty I pulled it towards me. With a bone jarring jerk The Inara stopped free-falling and leveled out. I barely saw the top of the tree before I felt the impact. I hadn’t been over water at all. I spun crazily, tree branches crashing around me. I felt a blow to my head, a sharp pain in my side, and then I knew nothing for some time.

  Charles

  Charles woke, head pounding, furious with himself, furious with her. He had let himself be played and once again, she had escaped. It was still dark outside, and he shook his head, trying to throw off the effects of the sleeping dose. It must have been less than she’d used on the crew members in the last attack. Stumbling out of the cabin, he made his way up to the main deck and judged that he’d been unconscious for less than an hour. Crewmen were launching airhoppers and already in pursuit.

  “Captain! Are you alright?” One of the crewmen paused, looking at him. Shaking his head Charles said, “Drugs – she drugged me. Do you have her in sight?”

  “We’re deploying a search pattern – one of the crewmembers saw her jump over the side. She had a hopper waiting for her.”

  Charles cursed, still trying to throw off the effects of the drugs and stumbled. “Continue with the search. Find that woman alive or dead. Send the ship’s surgeon to my quarters and have my second in command report to me as soon as there is news.” The man saluted and ran towards the search party. Charles pushed the door to his cabin open, eyes scanning the room. Closing the door, he unleashed his temper, pummeling his fist into the back of the door until the wood groaned and his knuckles were bloody.

  That bloody woman. Never had he felt so irritatingly incompetent. He knew, knew, he was capable of this job, he’d tackled any number of much more complicated assignments before, and yet she kept slipping through his fingers. And he let her. That was perhaps the most infuriating part of all. There was no point in lying to himself. She’d been in his custody and he’d let her escape, allowing her to get too close, falling into her trap.

  He punched the wooden door one more time and turned to pace through his quarters. She was a conwoman, and a good one. She had that knack of relating to people and winning their trust. People liked her.

  He’d seen it before – the street urchins in the market used the same sorts of tactics. Get close, make people trust you, take everything they give and then some, and make them feel good about it. She was just much, much better at it. He reminded himself of all of these things, over and over again, trying to drown out that quieter voice in his head. What if she wasn’t like that? What if she was genuine? What if he -could- trust her, and she was just in a bad situation? He wanted to strangle that voice in his head – part of him had clearly bought into her, despite the evidence.

  Good people do not steal. Good people especially do not steal from the Church.

  Sunrise did not improve his temper, and the arrival of a messenger from the Vatican only confirmed his suspicions that the crew neither trusted him, nor were loyal to him. The messenger presented himself to Charles with a click of his heels, holding forth a sealed envelope with the Pope’s seal.

  Captain, you are recalled to the Vatican immediately. You have failed in this endeavor too many times. Do not delay. You will present yourself no later than two days hence.

  By my hand,

  His Holiness, Pope Clément

  Charles winced and nodded to the messenger. “We will be returning to the Vatican post haste. You are welcome to ship with us or return on your own transportation. I expect the timeframe will be about the same.”

  “Is there a return message, sir?” the messenger asked, not looking at Charles directly.

  “I will deliver it in person it seems. Thank you.” Charles replied, crumpling the note in his fist. Striding out the door of his quarters he called to Yusef. “Bring in the search parties – we leave for the Vatican immediately. Full power all the way. Mark these coordinates so we may return and begin our search from here again if needed.”

  Charles’s belly clenched at the thought of his upcoming audience. Pope Clément was not a forgiving man. And then he looked around at the crew. Someone here was reporting their movements back without his knowledge.

  Their arrival in Rome, and the intervening days, had brought Charles no closer to discovering who was reporting back on his movements. As soon as they docked at the airfield, he presented himself at the palace. The guards standing outside His Holiness’s private receiving chamber announced him.

  Striding into the room in what he hoped was a confident manner, Charles went to one knee in front of Clément. Looking up, Charles noted Father Michael, who had been speaking with the Holy Father. Charles had not yet determined where Father Michael stood in the hierarchy of intrigues at the Vatican.

  “Ah. Charles. It seems that my confidence in you was somewhat misplaced. You have had Captain Jac in your custody twice now, and she has escaped, not to mention numerous times when you could have taken her ship and you have not. I am most displeased.” Clément looked down at him frowning.

  “Your grace,” Charles started, lowering his eyes and Clément cut him off abruptly.

 
“I did not ask you to speak. I will give you one more chance to capture this pirate and retrieve our relic. Father Michael will accompany you. He is one of my trusted advisors. You will listen to him in all things.” Clément gave him a hard stare. “Do not fail me a third time.

  Charles looked up, his pride stinging, and a creeping sense of fear coiling in his belly. The last thing he wanted was a priest staring over his shoulder questioning his every move. “As your grace commands,” was all he could get out through clenched teeth.

  “You may go. Father Michael will join you at the airfield directly.” Clément waved a hand dismissing him.

  Charles chose to walk back to the airfield to give himself time to regain his composure before facing his men. Being shackled to a priest hurt his pride. He reminded himself over and over that pride was a sin, and that he must do whatever was necessary to complete this assignment, but it didn’t help much. He wanted to punch something. Anything to help alleviate the roiling mass of anger in his belly. He had only met Father Michael a few times, and while the man seemed innocuous enough, Charles had never heard anyone speak very highly of him. The man would be a hindrance; underfoot constantly, and undoubtably reporting every perceived wrong decision back to the Holy Father.

  Arriving at the Blue Raven in no better frame of mind, he was shocked to find that Father Michael had somehow managed to arrive before him. Yusef informed him that Father Michael was waiting in his quarters.

  “Prepare the ship for departure. Father Michael is joining us.” Charles strode to his quarters, composing his expression to deal with the man.

  Father Michael was waiting for him, sitting at the dining table in Charles’s quarters. When Charles entered, he rose. “Captain Durstain. I hope you do not mind that I asked your cabin boy to bring us a pitcher of wine to drink while we discuss our current circumstances.”