Alphas and Airships: A Steampunk Fairy Tale (Steampunk Red Riding Hood Book 2)

by Melanie Karsak

  I waved to Angus who gave us a friendly salute then headed back belowdecks.

  “Well, at least you didn’t throw up on Lily Stargazer’s ship. That would have been…awful,” Harper said with a laugh.

  I frowned at her.

  “Throw up? Agent Louvel, are you sick?” Agent Hunter asked.

  “No,” I said, hoping that Harper would shut up.

  Harper grinned at me then turned to Agent Hunter. “Agent Louvel gets motion sick.”

  Agent Hunter turned to me. “Is that true?”

  “Yes, but I’m fine now.”

  “You did all this while sick?” Agent Hunter asked.

  “She was positively green,” Harper said with a laugh.

  “Oh my god, shut it.”

  Harper chuckled.

  Agent Hunter gave me a sympathetic smile, an expression which made my stomach flop, and not in a bad way.

  “There is the second ship,” Harper said, motioning to another red-ballooned agency ship.

  “Shall we pick up Shadow Watch and head home?” Agent Hunter asked.

  I grinned. “Yes. But let’s make sure Agent Walsh goes on that ship,” I said, pointing to the airship full of werewolves headed on the long, uncomfortable ride to Oslo.

  Agent Hunter raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Can you help with that? Harper and I owe him a little thanks for his hospitality.”

  “As you wish, Agent Louvel,” Agent Hunter said with a smirk.

  “Ugh,” Harper said, looking back at the remains of the Fenrir. “That’s a mess.”

  “Indeed. You’ll need to fill out Form 776 on that one, Agent Harper,” Agent Hunter told her.

  “Form 776? That’s fifty pages long!”

  “So it is.”

  I chuckled then looked back once more at the Aphrodite which was ascending into the clouds, taking the living legend—and her clockwork fairy—along with it.

  Chapter 25: One too Many

  After leaving the Shadow Watch agents at Castle Rock, Harper, Hunter, and I headed to the Edinburgh airship towers to take a second ship back to London. I was still nauseous, my ribs hurt, my busted lip still was sore, and I’d gotten a few new cuts along the way, but I was alive.

  What more could I ask for?

  As we made our way back down the Royal Mile to the towers, I spotted Ronald at the door of the White Horse Pub. He looked like he was just headed in to work for the night.

  “Agent Louvel,” he called.

  I stopped a moment, Harper and Hunter waiting for me a discreet distance away.

  “Should I get some extra potatoes on?” he asked with a smirk, motioning to the door of the pub.

  While Harper looked away, trying not to pay attention to the scene, I could feel Agent Hunter’s eyes on the brawny tapster and me. Suddenly, I felt like I wanted to sink into the ground.

  “Thanks,” I said. “Not today.”

  “Headed back to London already?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I’ve had enough action for now.”

  Ronald chuckled. “So I see. Want a drink first? On the house. You and your friends, of course.”

  I looked back at Agent Hunter. He was standing very still, his hands laced behind his back. Harper was just behind him. To my surprise, she flicked her eyes toward our boss and gave me just the slightest knowing look.

  “Thanks, but no. We need to head back.”

  Taking the cue, Ronald nodded. “Well, maybe next time you’re this way.”

  “Thank you,” I replied, and with that, I rejoined the others.

  We continued toward the towers. As we walked, my stomach filled with nervous butterflies. I hated the idea that Agent Hunter might think me a barfly, or a flirt, or whatever he thought. Ronald seemed like a nice enough guy, but still. Agent Hunter’s good opinion of me meant a lot more than some random flirtation.

  “You used to work this city. Ever been in there before?” I asked Agent Hunter, motioning back to the pub.

  “Can’t say I have.”

  “Interesting place. I met the Loch Ness Monster there.”

  Agent Hunter stopped. “Sorry?”

  “Eideard, the waterhorse.”

  “Was there? At the pub?”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, he bought me a drink, pulled me out of a scuffle later on too. Nice chap.”

  At that, Agent Hunter smirked. “You, Agent Louvel, have a nose for trouble.”

  “I guess that’s what makes me good at the job.”

  “I guess so,” Agent Hunter replied, smiling lightly.

  I cast a glance at Harper who grinned at me but didn’t say another word.

  Chapter 26: Making Plans

  The next day, I found myself at the squash court at King’s College. Since Lionheart hadn’t yet warmed up to Harper, I decided to go on my own to let the alpha know that the skies above the realm were clear once more.

  I slipped into the viewer’s box just as Lionheart and Bryony had finished their match. This time, the werewolf had won. They chatted with one another as they went to put their rackets away. I was just about to open the small door leading onto the court when I stopped cold.

  Lionheart stepped close to Bryony, setting his hand on her chin. He gazed down at her, and a moment later, leaned in and kissed her.

  Taking my hand off the door handle, I stepped back into the shadows of the viewing box and stayed there.

  When they finally let one another go, he whispered something in her ear.

  Bryony smiled at him, squeezed his hand, then headed out of the court.

  Lionheart finished cleaning up the equipment then turned and looked back at the viewer’s box.

  “Coming out, Agent Louvel?” he called.

  There was a strange, sick feeling in my stomach. Jealousy? That was stupid. But it was there all the same. I didn’t want Lionheart. I was a werewolf hunter, not a werewolf lover. But I liked that the alpha was fond of me. It made me feel…special.

  “I was just trying not to interrupt,” I replied as I joined him on the court.

  “For that, I am obliged. After all, I have you to thank for the progression of things with Professor Paxton.”

  “Me?”

  “I had, for some time, sensed her growing attachment. I had tried to ignore it, given my true condition, but it seems that my affliction is not an impediment to her affection.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” I replied, trying really hard to be as glad as my words suggested.

  Lionheart smiled abashedly then turned and studied me more closely. “Well,” he said then. “Looks like you found the flying wolf.”

  “So I did. He’s flown back to Oslo, for now. The situation is in hand.”

  Lionheart inclined his head to me. “I expected no less, Little Red.”

  I smiled nervously. “Yeah. Thanks. Well, anyway, I just wanted to let you know. I won’t keep you from your lady.”

  Lionheart inclined his head to me.

  I turned and went to the door but paused just a moment. “Richard, what do you know about the druids?”

  Lionheart shook his head. “Both before and after my time. A secret sect, really.”

  “Not unlike the Templars.”

  “No, indeed. Different flavor though.”

  I nodded.

  “Go to the summer country, Agent Louvel. If you want to know about the druids, walk the lands of Arthur.”

  I nodded.

  “And if you run across the Holy Grail, be a good sister-in-arms and snag it for me. I’ve only been looking for it for a few hundred years.”

  I laughed. “Of course. Good-bye, Sir Richard.”

  “Good-bye, Agent Louvel.”

  * * *

  Reluctantly, I took the tram back across town to headquarters. There, I found Agent Harper at her desk, busily working on completing Form 776. Still nursing my sore ribs, I slowly sunk into my seat. My entire torso had turned the loveliest shades of yellow and purple.

  “I left you Form 912 and Form 11,” Harper s
aid, pointing to the papers on my desk.

  I picked up my fountain pen then set it back down. Leaning back in my chair, I scanned the room for Agent Hunter.

  “He’s gone already,” Harper said without looking up.

  “Sorry?”

  “He got called out on a case first thing this morning. He stopped by though, asked where you were.”

  I looked at Harper.

  She looked up at me then winked. “What? I’m observant.”

  I chuckled.

  “I do have bad news though,” Harper said.

  “And that is?”

  “I’m rotating to Cressida now,” Harper said, referring to one of our colleagues who worked in magical artifacts. “She has a case. Hunter asked me to follow up with her when I’m done with the paperwork for the Fenrir case.”

  I smiled softly at her. I hated to let her go. “I’ll miss you, but I am glad about one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Hunter said you can join Cressida when you’re done with the paperwork for the Fenrir case, right?”

  “Yes, that’s what he said.”

  Moving slowly, I rose. “Good.”

  “Why is that good?”

  “Because he said when you’re done with the paperwork. He didn’t say anything about me.”

  “And just where are you going?”

  “To my grand-mère’s house. I have two broken ribs, a busted lip, and more bruises than I can count. I can’t think of any place I’d rather be.”

  Harper laughed. “Fine, Clemeny. I’ll finish it all.”

  “Thanks, Harper.”

  “Tell Cressida not to get too used to having you around. I’m going to need you back when you’re ready.”

  Harper beamed a smile at me. “I already told Agent Hunter I’d rather just stay with you, but he wants me to finish my rotations.”

  “Makes me wonder what Agent Hunter’s got planned for me.”

  “Oh, I definitely think he has plans for you. Not sure they’re all work-related though.”

  “Oh my god, shut it.”

  Laughing, Harper said, “Go get some rest, Clemeny.”

  “Thanks, Harper. For everything.”

  She nodded then—thankfully—picked up the paperwork she’d left on my desk and set it in her own pile.

  I turned and headed to the exit.

  And just what did Agent Hunter have planned for me?

  I couldn’t wait to find out.

  * * *

  Continue Clemeny’s Adventures in Peppermint and Pentacles

  Up on the housetop werewolves howl

  Out jumps good old Agent Louvel

  Down through the chimney chasing monsters quick

  Feeling far less jolly than Old Saint Nick

  Red Cape Society Agent Clemeny Louvel is used to chasing werewolves across London. But when she's reassigned to a special case just days before Christmas, she learns that she'll need more than a silver bullet to keep everyone on the nice list.

  Peppermint and Pentacles is a retelling of the Little Red Riding Hood fairy tale set in Melanie Karsak's bestselling steampunk universe. This Christmas-themed tale can be read as a standalone but is best enjoyed as book 3 in the Steampunk Red Riding Hood Series.

  About the Author

  Melanie Karsak is the author of The Airship Racing Chronicles, The Harvesting Series, The Burnt Earth Series, The Celtic Blood Series, and the Steampunk Fairy Tales Series. A steampunk connoisseur, zombie whisperer, and heir to the iron throne, the author currently lives in Florida with her husband and two children. She is an Instructor of English at Eastern Florida State College.

  Keep in touch with Melanie online.

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  Ready for more Steampunk Red Riding Hood? Follow Clemeny here:

  Wolves and Daggers, Book 1

  Alphas and Airships, Book 2

  Peppermint and Pentacles, Book 3

  Bitches and Brawlers, Book 4

  Check out all of Melanie’s Steampunk Fairy Tales

  Beauty and Beastly: Steampunk Beauty and the Beast

  Ice and Embers: Steampunk Snow Queen

  Curiouser and Curiouser: Steampunk Alice in Wonderland

  Ready to go airship racing? Meet Lily Stargazer and her crew in The Airship Racing Chronicles (this series contains mature content)

  Chasing the Star Garden

  Chasing the Green Fairy

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  Sneak Peek: Chasing the Star Garden

  London, 1823. It’s been one of the worst days in Lily Stargazer's life. She lost the London leg of the World Airship Grand Prix. A harlequin shoved a kaleidoscope down her pants, told her to fly to Venice, then threw himself from her airship tower. And her lover, Lord Byron, is living in exile abroad. What's a girl to do? For Lily, the answer is easy: drink absinthe and smoke opium.

  Lily's efforts to drown her problems fail miserably, and she soon finds herself at the heart of an ancient mystery which has her running from her past and chasing true love along the way.

  * * *

  I was going to lose—again. I gripped the brass handles on the wheel and turned the airship sharply port. The tiller vibrated in protest making the wheel shake and my wrist bones ache. Bracing my knees against the spokes, I tore off my brown leather gloves to get a better feel. The metal handgrips were smooth and cold. My fingers tingled from the chill.

  “Easy,” I whispered to the Stargazer. I looked up from my position at the wheelstand, past the ropes, burner basket, and balloon, toward the clouds. They were drifting slowly left in a periwinkle blue sky. There’d be an updraft as we passed over the green-brown waters of the canal near Buckingham House. I locked the wheel and jumped from the wheelstand onto the deck of the gondola and looked over the rail. The canal waters were a hundred feet away. I ran back to the wheel and steadied the ship. If I caught the updraft, it would propel me up and forward and give me an edge.

  “Cutter caught it, Lily,” Jessup yelled down from the burner basket below the balloon opening. “Up he goes,” he added, looking out through his spyglass. The gold polish on the spyglass reflected the fire from the burner.

  “Dammit!” I snapped down my binocular lense. I saw Hank Cutter’s red-and-white striped balloon rise upward. At the top, he pitched forward with great momentum, catching a horizontal wind. I could just make out Cutter at the wheel. His blond hair blew wildly around him. He turned and waved to me. Wanker.

  I was not as lucky. Just as the bow of the Stargazer reached the water, a stray wind came in and blew us leeward. The balloon jiggled violently in the turbulent air. I missed the air pocket altogether.

  “No! No, no, no!” I cursed and steadied the ship. I had chased Cutter from Edinburgh across the Scottish and English countryside. He had been off his game all day. I’d had him by half a mile the entire race. With the bottom feeders lingering somewhere in the distance behind us, I’d thought the London leg of the 1823 Airship Grand Prix would be mine. That was until St. Albans, where Cutter caught a random breeze that pushed him slightly in front of me. Cutter had a knack for catching favorable winds; it was not a talent I shared.

  “We’re coming up on Westminster,” Jessup yelled down from the basket. “Lily, drop altitude. Cutter is too high. Come in low and fast, and you might overtake him.”

  The airship towers sat at the pier near the Palace of Westminster along the Thames. A carnival atmosphere had overtaken the city as it always does on race day. Colorful tents were set up everywhere. Vendors hawked their wares to excited Londoners and international visitors. I could hear the merchants barking from their tents even from this far above. I fancied I could smell roasted peanuts in the wind.

  I jumped down from the wheelstand, ran across the deck, and pulled the valve cord, opening the flap at
the top of the balloon. Hot air released with a hiss. I kept one eye on the balloon and another eye on Tinkers’ Tower. At this time of day, the heat coming off of the Palace of Westminster and Tinkers’ Tower would give us a bump. I looked up. Cutter had started preparing his descent. It would be close.

  I ran back to the wheel.

  “Angus, I need more speed,” I yelled down to the gear galley, rapping on the wooden hatch that led to the rods, belts, and propeller parts below.

  Angus slapped open the hatch and stuck out his bald head. His face was covered in grease, and his blue-lense monocle glimmered in the sunlight. He looked up at the clouds and back at me.

  “Let’s giddyup,” I called to him.

  “You trying the Tower sling?” he yelled back.

  “You got it.”

  He laughed wildly. “That’s my lassie,” he yelled and dropped back down, pulling the wood hatch closed with a clap. I heard the gears grind, and the propeller, which had been turning nice and steady, began to hum loudly. The ship pitched forward. Within moments, we were coming up on Tinkers’ Tower. The airship towers were just a stone’s throw away.

  I aimed the ship directly toward Tinkers’ Tower. Just as the bowsprit neared the clock, I yanked the wheel. The warm air caught us.

  “Whoa!” Jessup yelled as the balloon moved within arm’s length of the tower.

  The sound of “Ohhs!” echoed from the crowd below.

  A mix of warm air and propulsion gave us some go, and seconds later we were slingshotting around Tinkers’ Tower toward the airship platforms. Gliding in on warm air and momentum, we flew fast and low.

  Cutter had kept it high, but now he was dropping like a stone toward his own tower. Damned American. I didn’t blame him; I would have used the same move. His balloon was releasing so much air that I wondered if he would be able to slow down in time, not that I would have minded seeing him smash to the ground in a million pieces.