“Perhaps it doesn’t matter,” Ember said finally. “I think if she was powerful enough to gift you with this, then she was powerful enough to read your heart. Your sorrow over your lost witch is telling. A cold man—or vampire, in your case—would have only taken what they needed and went on their way. Perhaps your feelings for her were different in tone, but your bond with her was no less emotional. You miss her.”
Ember sensed Dev was embarrassed by their discussion and decided to change the subject. “Dev?” she asked.
“Hmm?” he replied distractedly.
“Do you know much about the…about the boogeyman?”
Dev’s brows knit. “What’s got you hunting after that old wives’ tale?”
“Jack told me a bit. Then Payne mentioned fingernail clippings.”
“Ah. Well, most Otherworlders don’t invoke his name. To do so, they believe, is to summon him; and when he comes, he’s as likely to steal your soul as he is to help.”
“But you don’t believe in that?”
“Oh, I do. But he’s gone missing. Has been out of commission, so to speak, for quite some time. The Lord of the Otherworld would have us believe that he’s responsible. That we no longer need to fear the boogeyman because he’s personally done away with him.”
“Truly?”
“Who knows. But I can tell you there’s been no sign of him for a long, long time. You can trust me on that, because I’ve lived for many centuries. Still, it’s better to be safe than sorry, I suppose.”
“I guess that’s true. But can he really steal a soul?”
Dev shrugged. “Depends on who you ask. Some say he’s a thief. Some call him a devil. Others say he’s a collector. But most Otherworlders believe we are haunted by the ghosts of those the boogeyman has harvested over the millennia.”
“So he just drops them here? Like a pirate’s hoard? That’s terrible! I assumed they were simply another race of beings who lived here. What an undignified ending.”
He was saved from commenting when they emerged from the cloud bank. Smoothing back his hair, Dev put his hat back on his head and tapped his cane on the floor to shut off the witchlight. “There it is.” He pointed to a large building floating in the air. Ember gasped. It resembled a small, mechanized moon.
They zoomed inside, and once again, Ember’s face and hands were pressed against the glass.
Welding sparks crackled as blooms of witchlight framed workmen in a haunting visage. It glinted off their goggles as they hung from long ropes or walked along monstrous steel skeletons that looked like boats. Then she saw one, finished, with a net above it being filled with air. No. Not air. Witchlight! She felt the power as it flowed from a generator into a pliable, fine-wired metal net that caught and held it.
Dev looked out the window at what captured her attention. “That, my dear, is the latest in skyships. Something you won’t find in the human world for at least another century.”
“And we’re going to fly on one of those?”
“We’re flying on one of the best of those. Well, practically speaking, with the best crew. She’s docked on the other side.”
There was a shout as a coupling broke. It careened toward them, barely missing the tram; then it fell, the length of cable spiraling down like a loose thread. The man attached to it screamed as he was wrenched away from the side of the ship and plummeted through the open spaces, barely missing the thick steel frames that supported the various levels of the port. The noise of construction cut off, but only for a moment, and then the buzzing and sparks overpowered the shouts.
“Isn’t someone going to do something?” Ember asked, aghast at the sight of the falling man.
Dev shrugged. “It’s the risk of working up here.”
Ember gripped the glass window as she looked down. She could definitely make out the blue light of the sky peeking through from time to time. Ember fell back against the seat, her stomach feeling leaden, as her enthusiasm for the wonders around her dimmed.
They remained silent as the tram continued until it reached the center of the skyport. The tram hub was full of people. Of course, “people” was a slight overstatement, since only about half of the citizens she saw milling about could even begin to pass as human. Ember caught sight of creatures she believed were trolls, and some very tall, almost diaphanous, beings she remembered as being specters.
When she asked Dev about the rest, he said the port would be filled with all sorts, but she would be the only witch. As far as the citizens of the Otherworld were concerned, the only witch in the entire realm was the high witch. It was she who provided all the power—well, she and the diminishing reserves controlled by the capital.
The tram docked, bumping gently against an air-filled mesh before settling flush against the side; Dev hopped out and then turned to offer his hand. Adjusting her hat, Ember set her feet on the metalwork deck and, swaying slightly, used her parasol to steady herself. At first, she thought her awkward balance was due to sitting in the tram for so long, but then she realized the entire skyport was shifting gently beneath her feet.
“How does the port remain in the air?” she asked Deverell. “Do the tram cables hold it up?”
“Not at all,” he replied. “The skyport retains its position using incendiary propulsion, much like the dirigible balloons.”
A strange yellow-skinned creature with a humped back shambled toward them, holding out a glowing flower. “Rose for the missus?” he chirped hopefully. “I trades for coin, candy, or clippings.”
Dev turned glowing eyes on the creature and said simply, “Leave us.”
The flower in its hand drooped as the Otherworld being fell under the influence of Dev’s mezmer. He wandered off in a daze and headed over to another couple.
“Candy?” Ember asked.
“Otherworlders have notorious sweet tooths, or in my case, sweet fangs.”
Dev cleared his throat when he saw her eyes drifting to a newsreel on the energy crisis and the high witch being near death. “Hungry? I’ve got the perfect place picked out.”
“Famished,” Ember answered with a smile.
He led Ember to a quaint dining establishment with cozy little outdoor tables. They lounged in the dining area sipping tea, Ember nibbling on shiny topped pastries she’d spread with butters and jellies, while Dev often checked the time on his pocket watch. He tried to explain the fifty-hour clock used in the Otherworld, but Ember couldn’t wrap her head about it.
On the next level, Ember was amazed to see a bustling row of shops selling everything from clothing and accessories to books and maps. There was even one shop showcasing nothing but sweets and candies. Ember pulled Dev inside, and the most marvelous scents greeted her.
She happily leaned across the counter, her breath fogging the glass as she pointed to candies that looked like lemons or cherries and dark creamy confections Dev called chocolates. They gave her one to sample, and it melted on her tongue, igniting an unquenchable need to acquire at least a dozen or perhaps two.
Ember attempted to pull Dev into a shop boasting of witch spells and potions, but Dev stopped dead in his tracks. “We cannot, my dear. I am quite sorry to deny you such a thing, but there are often diviners keeping shops such as that one.”
“Diviners?”
“Seers or weavers of fortune. They use their abilities to exploit their customers by peering beneath their skin, seeing who they really are.”
“You mean like Jack?”
“Jack? Your lantern?” When Ember nodded, Dev felt a small tightening in his gut. He didn’t like how she said his name, as if the two of them were on better-than-familiar terms. “In a way,” he answered hesitantly. “They don’t have the same power exactly, but they will see enough to know you are hiding something and they will be intrigued.”
“Oh.” Ember glanced at the shop window longingly but allowed Dev to pull her along. “Still, it would be nice
to learn more. I’m very untrained for a…for one of my kind,” she said, lowering her voice as she glanced at the passersby.
“Yes. And I promise I will help you with that to the best of my ability. But first, we need to get you on the ship and safely away from prying eyes.”
“Right.”
Dev guided Ember to a set of moving metal stairs that appeared to be wound with gears. New steps appeared before her feet and shifted upward, going higher and higher before twisting out of sight. “Don’t be frightened,” Dev said, seeing her hesitate. “They won’t bite your boots. Do be careful of your dress hem, though. I’ve seen many a lady’s train get caught in the gears.”
Hearing that, Ember hiked up her skirts to a very unladylike and somewhat scandalous level, which Dev didn’t mind at all, and set one shaky foot on the moving step. Her leg started to move and she squeaked in alarm as her appendage went ahead without the rest of her. Dev saved her by lifting her by the waist and setting her in front of him as he stepped behind her.
Once she was on the autostairs, she quite enjoyed the experience. She held on to the steel handrail and laughed as they went higher and higher, passing many levels in slow loops. Dev kept them on until they passed five levels, then indicated it was time to disembark.
Ember exited and adjusted her frock, and Dev led her from the central hub out to the far-distant edge of the skyport. Light filled the space, and Ember soon realized that this part of the port was open to the air. Wind whistled through the level, rustling her dress and making both her and Dev place hands on their hats to keep them from blowing away.
When they reached the edge, Ember saw a long metal ramp extending into midair. At the end was a large vessel made of iron. Round spheres with open slats hung below the ship; within the slats were thick, telescoping barrels that looked like guns large enough to shoot balls the size of Ember’s head. There were four spheres on the side she could see and probably more on the other.
The front of the vessel came to a wicked point, while the back had metal pieces that looked more like fins. Oddly shaped witch lamps hung around the deck both above and below, and windows near the front glowed with flickering light, making the ship look like a great beast with lit eyes and a mouth. Heavy ropes and cables connected it to the skyport, as well as two large clamps that looked like great claws. She spied several men dangling over the side, sparks flying before their faces as they made repairs. On the side of the ship was a steel plate that read Phantom Airbus.
Dev hurried Ember forward, steering her toward the ramp. But before they could get there, a tall woman hopped out of the skyship and landed with a jostling thump in front of them.
The woman’s long, dark hair was tied loosely at the nape of her neck and hung over one shoulder. She wore a white shirt with long tails; high leather boots, more scuffed and worn than shined; tight breeches; and a simple black corset. When she smiled, Ember was startled to see a sharp fang, which looked like it had been dipped in silver, on one side of her mouth. The other fang was missing.
“Well, well,” the woman said, running her tongue over her fang and eyeing Ember and Dev with a predatory gleam in her eye. “You must be pretty desperate, to call in a favor from me, Dev. Why don’t the two of you step into my parlor and tell me exactly what”—she eyed Ember up and down—“or who I’m about to be carting around as contraband.”
Grabbing the wobbling cable, the woman leaned entirely too far over the ramp to err on the side of safety, which also served to give both Ember and Dev a glimpse of her very shapely derriere, and hollered in a very unladylike fashion, “Frank! Quit muckin’ about and get your humpbacked, shock-brained self back on the ship and prepare to launch! The cargo has arrived!”
A man hanging precariously from two thick cables attached to his—Ember swallowed—his neck and nothing else looked up and removed his goggles. Ember gasped. Even from a distance, she could tell there was something very wrong with the man: His limbs were different sizes.
“Yes, boss!” the giant of a man replied. He detached the cables at his neck and wrapped them around his wrists; then he swung his booted feet against the side of the ship and Ember heard the smack of metal-soled shoes hitting a steel surface. The man then walked himself up the side of the ship, one boot clicking and then the next. It was almost as if they clung to the slick side on their own somehow. When he reached the top, he landed with a jarring thump that shook not only the ship, but the ramp they stood on.
“Amazing!” said Ember. Never in her life had she seen such a large, strong person. The man called Frank was more than twice her height. He wouldn’t even need a horse to plow his fields. He could do it all on his own.
The woman raised an eyebrow, her mouth curling in a smirk. “Come on, then, Dev. Let’s get you and…”
“Ember,” Dev said.
“Emm-ber,” the woman said, drawing out the girl’s name with a smack of her red lips, “settled before we take off.”
“Right behind you, Delia,” Dev said.
The woman glanced back at Dev and Ember.
Don’t say it, Del, Dev thought.
She said it anyway. “That’s ‘Captain’ on board my ship, Deverell.”
“We’re not technically on your ship yet, are we?” Dev answered with a smirk.
Ember squeaked. “Perhaps it would be best not to irritate the captain,” she said.
“Yes, Dev,” the woman said, poking him in the chest. “Don’t irritate the captain.”
Ignoring the woman’s smug smile, Dev held out his hand, indicating Ember should go in first.
Ember paused for just a moment, wondering anew if she was making the right decision. She glanced back at the skyport and then at Dev’s outstretched arm. When she laid her hand atop his arm, her indecision fled once again. Being there in the Otherworld, getting on the skyship was right. At least, it felt as if she was going in the right direction.
Besides, Dev was a trustworthy sort of vampire. And a handsome one. Oh dear. Ember swayed on the ramp just a bit. She felt just the tiniest bit tipsy, or perhaps it was being so high in the air. Yes. It must be the altitude.
It wasn’t until Ember was safely inside the Phantom Airbus that Dev finally felt like he could relax. His shoulders slumped and he took in a deep breath.
Delia led them into the captain’s cabin and leaned against her desk. She offered Ember and Dev a seat, but only Ember accepted. “Now then,” Delia said. “Don’t you think you should tell me what I’m risking my neck, my crew, and, most of all, my ship for, Dev?”
Jack and Finney arrived at the bustling skyport quickly enough, but Jack didn’t feel entirely comfortable with the looks they were getting. He increased the intensity of his light but was discouraged by the slow process of rediscovering Ember’s trail. Finally, Finney picked up her tracks and they headed up the autostairs, running down the launch deck only to find an empty dock.
Jack sent his pumpkin into the sky once more, and it circled several ships until it found one with not one but two vampires. Still not catching even a hint of Ember’s light, his pumpkin returned, and Jack looked forlornly at the boy who’d gotten him this far. Without Finney, Jack could change to fog and head off to the ship, but he couldn’t leave the human boy behind. Not only was it illegal to bring a human into the Otherworld, but any human on his or her own was considered fair game. Finney would be killed before he could take a step.
“Well?” Finney said. “Where do we go from here?”
Jack looked around, and then an idea sprang to mind. “We’ll take a screaming banshee.”
The boy stammered, “A…a what?”
“A banshee. They’re not terribly maneuverable, but they’re fast. We should be able to catch up with the ship. Every port has at least one that is reserved in case of emergency or attack. They’re located on the very top level of the skyport.”
With that, Jack led the boy back to the central hub and took the auto
stairs up and up and up until there was nowhere left to go except through a steel door. Jack’s pumpkin shone on the lock, and the inner gears moved of their own accord. Nothing could hide from a lantern’s light. Every creature, every passage, every lock opened to it. Once his light did its work, they were able to turn the circular lock on the hatch and throw it open. Then they went up a set of normal stairs that led to the top level, open to the sky.
Wind buffeted them when they reached the roof. There, nesting in a launch pad, were a set of three screaming banshees. Jack removed the cables affixing the nearest one to the roof. When that was done, he shouted, “Climb in!” to Finney. He pulled a lever, opening the glass door, and Finney scrambled across the captain’s chair to the other side.
Jack’s pumpkin floated in, dropping into Finney’s lap. When Jack was aboard, he told Finney to attach the harness to himself, showing him what to do by attaching his own. Technically, as a lantern, he didn’t need to secure himself, since he couldn’t die until his contract was fulfilled—not unless his pumpkin was destroyed.
Once they were ready, Jack waved his hand over the console and lights flickered on. The vehicle hummed and rumbled until steam floated out from beneath the bubble of glass. It grew in volume until Finney heard a high-pitched whistle, like that of a teapot.
The air filled with the scent of combustible fuels and propellant. Then the whole ship rumbled and they bounced off the ground, hovering for just a few seconds until the sound reached a feverish pitch.
“Hold on!” Jack shouted over the noise of the ship, just as Finney saw workers scrambling up through the hatch and circling the ship.
The steam billowed, fogging the windows until Finney could no longer see anything. Then it happened: The scream of the ship became so loud, Finney pressed his hands against his ears, and just as he did, they shot straight up toward the sun as fast as cannon fire.
The pumpkin plummeted to the floor and rolled around until Finney could catch it and hold on to it tightly. It might have been his imagination, but he thought the carved face looked irritated. The ship leveled off and slowed as Jack moved levers and wound knobs. The initial screaming caused by the noise of the engines firing died down just a fraction as they lost speed.
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