Chasing the Green Fairy: The Airship Racing Chronicles

by Melanie Karsak

  “I don’t understand. Has he got someone in the race? Is he backing someone?”

  “The hell if I know. He was rich, in a hurry, and looking for someone he could pay to keep his mouth shut. I did the job, and as instructed, dropped the parts into a crate on a ship headed to Brittany. That was that. Who would have thought that fortune would throw you and me together?”

  “You don’t remember anything else?”

  Iris squinted as he thought. “He flew out on an airship. The Viviane.”

  “Thank you. Thank you for telling me.”

  Iris nodded then headed below. After a few tries, he finally got the ship slowed. As promised, I guided the Hero, hands shaking with rage, into port on the farthest tower. He wouldn’t even have to anchor in.

  “Set your coordinates. Give her a little lift. You should be able to steer out,” I said then grabbed a rope and swung from the Hero to the platform.

  “Good luck with the race,” he called.

  I waved and watched as he ineptly lifted the ship out of port. He took on too much altitude and the propeller groaned as he mangled the gears, but soon he was flying east out of London, his red lantern glowing behind him. As I watched him go, I debated. He didn’t have to tell me. He could have kept his mouth shut. If it came out that he was the one who talked, it could cost him. Then again, what if that had been the Stargazer limping across the sky? What if he’d burned my ship to the ground instead of just damaging it? What would he do the next time money talked?

  As I headed toward the Stargazer, I stopped by the guard station. I opened the door and stuck my head inside.

  “Edwin?” I called.

  He looked up sleepily. “Lily?”

  “Stolen ship headed east out of here. Told me he was headed to Denmark. He’s got a red lamp burning at the back. He’s choking the galley. Probably won’t even make it off coast. Can you alert someone?”

  “Of course,” Edwin said, surprised. “Hey, Lily. Welcome home.”

  “Thanks.” Indeed, what a welcome home.

  I TOOK A DEEP BREATH then headed down the platform to the Stargazer. Much to my relief, she looked good. I hopped over the rail and headed toward the wheelstand. I hadn’t gotten far when I felt the barrel of a pistol press into my spine.

  “Don’t move,” someone said.

  I turned around. At first I thought it was Angus, but a moment later, I realized it was, in fact, his brother Duncan. “Go ahead. At least you’ll put me out of my misery.”

  “Lily? Is that you? Thank goodness!” he said then pulled me into a tight hug. “Thank goodness. We’ve been worried to death about you.”

  After everything that had happened, I’d nearly forgotten we’d agreed to ask Duncan to guard the Stargazer. My worries about the ship, and Grant, and the race had grown so distant. It was like those worries belonged to a different person, a different life.

  I sighed heavily and hugged Duncan back. While it felt good to be comforted, it was strange to feel Duncan so close. It had been years since we were together. He was still the same hulking creature he’d been, time in the military having chiseled him into the form of a soldier, and he still smelled like honey. It’s odd how a person doesn’t forget. He’d let his hair grow long. And as always, he was wearing a kilt.

  “Poor lass,” he said then. “You’re naught but skin and bones. And from the looks of you, there’s more laudanum than blood in your veins. Come sit down.”

  “The ship. How is she? Any more trouble?” I asked, trying to focus on my real life.

  Duncan shook his head as he took my satchel from my shoulder and set it on the deck. He motioned for me to sit while he went to the locker where we kept our provisions. “It’s been quiet. They’ve been working almost night and day to get things fixed. That tinker of yours is bloody brilliant. Wait until you see what he’s done.” Duncan sat down on the deck beside me and poured us both a glass of port. He pressed the glass toward me. “Christ, Lily. You’re a shamble. They told me you were off the habit.”

  I shrugged. What could I say?

  “Took it hard, I guess,” he said then. “I thought since you were with Salvatore, you wouldn’t take it so hard. But then, you and Byron were always something else. I’m sorry, Lily. I didn’t care for the man, but I’m sorry for you.”

  “Well, it’s over now.”

  Duncan looked closely at me. “For your sake, I hope so. And for Salvatore’s too. I’d hate to see such a good man lose you to a ghost.”

  Duncan’s words struck me hard. I gazed down at the ring Byron had left me. If I wanted to move on, I would have to let Byron go. I would have to make peace with his loss. I closed my eyes.

  “Lassie,” Duncan said, “you’re a mess. Maybe you came back too soon.”

  “I had to,” I said with a heavy sigh. “The race . . . the ship . . . Sal . . . I had to.”

  “There’s time. The ship is coming along. That lady pilot, Mandy, she’s been helping. Yeah, Mandy,” he said then smiled and nodded to himself.

  It was just like Duncan to try to lift my spirits. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Mandy, eh? She’s a good girl. Seems you have a type.”

  “A type?”

  “Don’t they say that everyone has a type they prefer? Yours must be air jockeys.”

  Duncan grinned and stroked his beard. “I don’t know about that. I mean, after all, I’ve never met two men more different than Salvatore and Byron.”

  I nodded as I considered his words.

  “Yeah, but Mandy . . .” Duncan said then started to look wistful.

  I smiled at him and squeezed his hand. “It would be a good match. I was always sorry for how things ended with us. It was never your fault.”

  “Sure it was. It was my fault I couldn’t see you would never give up Byron. Not for me. Not for anyone. At least not back then. After all, you were two of a kind. All the rest of us . . . me, Phineas, that sailor you used to run around with, even old James, rest his soul, none of us could ever catch you. We all wanted to love you. That was our problem. We didn’t understand why you thought you weren’t worth loving. But that’s why it worked so well for you and Byron. He was just like you.”

  I looked down into my wine. The dark liquid caught the reflection of the stars overhead. Stargazer. A soft breeze blew up from the Thames, carrying with it the fresh smells of spring mixed with the scent of the city. The ship swayed in the breeze. Duncan’s words hurt, but they were truthful.

  “I have to admit, I wondered what that Italian had done to make you change your ways. But I can see it. The two of you are well suited to one another.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked, because it was a question I had been asking myself since Missolonghi.

  “He accepts you for who you are. Angus and Jessup . . . and me, I’ll admit . . . have spent all this time worrying you were passed out in an opium den somewhere. Looks like our guess wasn’t far off. But Salvatore said you would come back. A man like that knows not to squeeze a wild creature too tightly or it’ll run scared. You need a man like that, to gently guide you,” Duncan said then laughed. “I wanted to pick you up and rush you to the altar. Salvatore is smart enough to know, and patient enough to wait, for you to see for yourself that it’s the right move.”

  After what had happened with Mr. Fletcher, I had resisted any move to wed me. After all, Mr. Fletcher, my adoptive father, had picked me up and rushed me to the altar. With Byron, save that moment in Malta, I’d never even thought about marriage. It was only at the very end, just as we realized we were about to lose one another, did we find the strength to hold on. It was a painful irony. But that didn’t make loving Sal a mistake. It wasn’t that I’d talked myself into my relationship with him. I’d committed to a real relationship, even if I had faltered. Now everything was a mess. Byron had made me regret. Robin just . . . confused things. But I loved Sal.

  “Seriously, I don’t think you should let them see you like this. Why not take another day or so and try to sober up a bi
t. Get some rest. Isn’t there somewhere you can go? There must be someone you can stay with. And where the hell are your boots?”

  I didn’t want to leave London, but I knew Duncan was right. There was somewhere I could go. There was someone who could help me sober up faster. I just hoped he wouldn’t take my asking the wrong way.

  I CLATTERED LOUDLY WITH THE bumblebee door knocker. It was already after midnight. God knows what state he would be in. Maybe it had been a bad idea to go there after all.

  After a few minutes, the door opened. A disheveled Phineas, his auburn-colored hair and clothing a wild mess, but now moustache-free, opened the door. “Lily?”

  “My head’s an opium mess. Byron is dead. The British qualifying is right around the corner, and I think someone might be out to get me. I have been barefoot for at least a week, and I need a meal, a bath, a bed, and some kind of concoction to put me back to right,” I rambled. “Can I come in?”

  Phineas grinned. His eyes sparkled in the gaslamp light. “By all means.”

  Kent, dressed in a robe and wiping sleep from his eyes, appeared in the foyer a moment later.

  “Please fix the spare room for Lily and draw her a bath,” Phineas told him.

  “Shouldn’t I send for a maid?”

  I shook my head.

  “No, no. We’ll make do,” Phineas answered.

  Kent disappeared into a dark hallway. I heard him curse under his breath as something clattered onto the floor.

  “I wish you hadn’t convinced me to shave off the moustache. I could stand here curling it while looking inquisitively at you.”

  “How about I just imagine it?”

  “That will work. Come with me,” he said then led me through the congested space to his study. The room was chock full of books, plants, and dust-covered bookshelves lined with an assortment of scrolls, tomes, and oddities. He led me to a pale-pink satin settee then shoved a pile of books onto the floor to make a space so I could sit down.

  “One time you mentioned you had something to shake off the opium faster?” I asked as I sat.

  “A by-product, actually. You’ve been in the morphine?”

  “To the bottom of the well.”

  “Sorry I missed it.”

  “Don’t be. Misery drove it.”

  “Sorry, Lily. Were you there with him?”

  “Yes. It was not a good death.”

  Phineas poured us both a glass of brandy. “Then one last toast before we set you back to right. To Byron,” Phineas said, hoisting his glass, “who is, no doubt, chasing the skirts of angels.”

  I smirked. “To Byron.” I savored the drink, the sweet alcohol burning my tongue, all the while swearing it would be my last.

  “Now,” Phineas said, setting his glass aside, “let me see.” He went to the other side of the room and opened an enormous cupboard. Inside, I saw row after row of small glass vials. Phineas removed a small, sterling silver vial then grabbed one of his personally designed syringes. “I think I’ll take a stab myself,” he said as he sat down on the settee next to me. “I could clear off a bit too, and I want to make sure I’ve got the right thing before I set your blood on fire. Christ, Lily. When was the last time you ate something?”

  “A bite here and there.”

  “I’ll have Kent cook us some steaks.”

  For Phineas, day and night were all the same. It was no wonder he never employed butlers for long. Phineas pulled a cord tight around his arm and stuck himself with the syringe. “Burns a bit,” he said as he injected himself. He removed the needle and rubbed his arm at the injection point. “Itchy bugger. It’s the right one. Now you.”

  I held out my arm. I was ashamed to see all the injection marks thereon. The bruises left by the crude instruments marred my skin. “Quite the party,” Phineas said as he tied the cord around my arm. “What they hell did they stick you with, goose feathers?

  “Something like that, and it was a wake. And I woke up in Morocco,” I said.

  Phineas laughed. “I once woke up in Japan. Can you imagine? It took me almost a month to get home,” he said then stuck the needle in my arm. The liquid burned. “Sorry,” he said. He pulled the needle out. “It may take a few hours before you feel the passion start to wear off.”

  I rubbed my arm. My nose started itching.

  “Come on,” Phin said then. “I’ve been dying to show you something. Been playing with it for months. Just got it working the way I wanted yesterday.”

  “What is it?”

  “Oh, you’ll love this.” Phineas led me to the conservatory. Therein, he had at least a dozen little burners all brewing different concoctions. “You’ll have to help,” he said, then handed me what looked like a lamp shade made of parchment paper. It was open at the bottom, but at the top, there was a very small hole the size of a coin. Phin then pulled out a large, lidded clay pot and set it on the table. When he opened the pot, the whole conservatory immediately stunk like swamp water.

  “Nasty,” I said.

  “The nastier the better,” he replied with a wicked little giggle. Using some long tongs, he fished out a piece of what looked like spongy algae. He lay it down on a dry piece of cloth then closed the lid on the pot. I was glad, because I had started to gag.

  “Now,” he said, tossing the tongs aside and patting dry the algae. “Now you’ll see.” He set the algae in a copper pan. Stealing some flame from one of the burners, he set the algae on fire. “Hold it like this,” he said, encouraging me to extend my arms out. “Okay, now, steady,” he said then centered the pot containing the burning algae under the shade.

  I looked in the pot. The algae was burning very, very slowly, but I could feel heat rising from the pan. But more than that, a wretched smell effervesced from the pot.

  “Hold it one more minute,” Phin said as he eyed the shade and the pot. “Okay, Lil. Let go.”

  “Let go?”

  He nodded.

  Carefully, I let go of the paper shade. To my surprise, it stayed aloft.

  “Oh baby! Oh yes!” he yelled then laughed. We stared as the algae’s stinky fumes kept the lamp aloft. “Fairy globes,” he said decidedly.

  “Fairy globes?”

  “Growing up, I was always told the lights bouncing across the bogs were fairy globes. Nonsense. I’m surprised I didn’t drown chasing fairies. Gas. Rotted earth. Slime. Algae. Harness it. Draw out its gases. Now we have something we can use, not fairy stories.”

  All things considered, I chuckled. “Are you telling me my ship can be powered by fairy globes?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Oh, I will,” I said with a laugh that Phineas joined.

  “Miss Stargazer, your bath is ready,” Kent said from the conservatory door. I had to admit, he looked rather bashful about the whole thing. Of course, if he wanted to work for Phineas, he needed to get used to eccentricity.

  “Go ahead,” Phineas said. “I’ll get Kent to work on cooking us some dinner. Besides, you smell odd, like campfire smoke and pine needles. Where, exactly, have you been?”

  “Chasing fairy globes,” I said, clapping Phin gratefully on the shoulder. I then followed Kent through the house to the guest bedroom.

  The room, probably given its lack of use, had mostly escaped Phineas’ heaps of eccentric bits. It was tastefully arranged, clean, full of plants, and had a large wicker bird cage full of sleeping finches. Exotic animal hides lay on the floors; the bed boasted a red velvet coverlet and a black bear skin.

  “The wash room and water closet are through that door,” Kent guided. “Do you know how long you will be staying?”

  “Just a day or so.”

  “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “I need clothes. And boots.”

  “I might not be the best person to select-”

  On the bureau I found paper. I pulled Sal’s fountain pen from my satchel and jotted down an address which I handed to Kent. “I have a friend, a dressmaker, Celia. She’ll know.”


  “Yes, Madame.”

  “For tonight, can you see if Phin has a robe I can use?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you.”

  I went into the wash room and closed the door. Phineas’ Hyde Park home had all the modern conveniences, the best of which was sitting before me: the giant tub was filled with hot, soapy water.

  I pulled off the dress Robin had given me, removed my sticky old bodice and underwear, and set the key to the vault on a chair nearby. The key to the fairy box had remained in its lock, with Robin. Sighing with relief, I slid into the water. My feet were aching, and the poison oak rash on the back of my arm had started itching again. On top of that, I had a headache from opium withdrawal, my nose was running, and my body hurt—everywhere. I prayed that Phin’s injection would save me from the sweating shakes that always came after cutting the habit. They were the worst part.

  The soap reeked too heavily of roses. Given how filthy I really was, perhaps the overpowering scent was a good thing. I scrubbed my dirty hair and body. It took some work, but I finally got all the grime off. I closed my eyes. Moments later, I was overcome with sleep. I drifted off into a strange dream.

  I was back in Arcadia. Everything was so green. The sunlight was slanting down through the leaves, casting glimmering green and gold light onto the forest floor. I could feel someone holding my hand. I looked up to see Byron standing beside me.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “Ready for what?”

  “For Arcadia.”

  “I don’t like it when you’re mischievous,” I lied.

  “Are you sure about that?” he replied with a wicked grin, but then he softened. He looked down at me with a sincere expression of love in his eyes. “How much I love you,” he whispered, kissing me softly. He then whispered in my ear: “It is the last and best thing I can do.”

  He led me through the forest. After a few minutes, we came to a space amongst the trees where tall oaks grew in a circle. Within that circle was a ring of standing stones. Robin stood in the center. Byron led me to Robin, kissed his son on the cheek, then passed my hand to his child.