The Franklin Deception (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 4)

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  I fought with every fiber of my being, even though I felt like I was being buried alive. When I summoned the sorcery, hoping to blast the doppelganger before it was too late, the magic slipped out of my grasp.

  The poison had turned the magic into a slippery goo that slithered through my fingers as I tried to gather it up.

  While I raged against my fading consciousness, my double readied the spectral cannon. It felt like I was having a waking dream. The edges of my vision blurred like heat shimmers on a sunbaked plain.

  I made it to my elbow as the increasing frequency of the vibration alerted me to the weapon's impending firing. While the poison dulled my senses, it did not impair my thoughts. I had to stop the cannon, or the American government would be destroyed.

  I could not shape or grab the magic with my mind as I had so many times before. Before, the magic was like reaching into a snowbank and forming a snowball to launch. Now, I had no hands with which to sculpt, or throw. So I could not stop the doppelganger.

  But what if I was doing it all wrong?

  The words Zentrii had spoken to me about my magic floated through my mind. The storm-kin had berated me to give up the illusion of control, that my experience was defeating me.

  It was true I had always been in control, taking a firm hand during precipitous events. When not-yet Empress Catherine had been in danger from her abusive husband, I'd rallied the army to her side to depose the tyrant. When my son was showing signs of falling into the ancient traps of the Muscovite families, I whisked him away to England so he might have a more expansive education. Time and time again, I'd taken control of the situation. Without bold action, our thoughts were nothing but dying ghosts of the mind.

  But now, I had no choice in the matter. As hard as I tried, baring down, gritting my teeth, the magic would not come. It lay there like a bright well, beautiful and dangerous, but ultimately useless.

  With the poison acting as a salve to my itch of control, I pushed the thoughts of controlling the magic from my mind. Rather than consider the well of power as a substance to be molded, I thought instead—as Zentrii had instructed—of my task, which was to stop the weapon from firing.

  Propped on one elbow, I quickly realized that I couldn't stop the spectral cannon, as I had no idea which buttons or levers made it work, but I did know the controls for the airship.

  When the Mother's Hammer keened with an almost unbearable vibration, I released the desire to control the magic, letting it fade away like mist at dawn. Upon the lattice, the stone turned a bright, seething purple—the insides swirling like creatures fighting to get loose.

  With no more effort than blowing a puff of air from my lips, I reached with my sorcery and pushed the lever that controlled the turbines a moment before the doppelganger fired. As the engines changed direction, the airship lurched in the sky as the cannon released the charge gathered in its depths.

  Though I could not see the firing, I felt the ball of electricity fly away from the Mother's Hammer. I prayed it didn't land on an inhabited section of Philadelphia, but knew such wishful thinking was foolish. At best, I hoped it didn't kill too many innocents.

  The doppelganger turned on me in a rage. Its form rippled again, bits of others forming momentarily—Sally Hemings, Alden Bridgewater, Enoch Tasker, a few others I didn't recognize—until it reverted back to the double of me.

  "By the Winged One, I shall end you," said my double.

  It first picked up the pistol and rapier, then shook its head, apparently deciding those would not be the manner of my death. The doppelganger placed both weapons in its belt and leaned down to grab the gauntlet. It was careful not to touch the poisoned section, and slipped it over its fist. With a supple grace, it moved towards the power stone.

  The effects of the poison seemed to be fading from my system, either through time or because the use of magic had burned it away like flame to spider webs. I sat up against the corner and prepared to use my sorcery to defend myself, though I wasn't sure if I could repeat what I'd just accomplished. It felt like I was too awake to control it, but not awake enough to just use the sorcery.

  With the stone back on the gauntlet, the doppelganger turned on me, a grim smile on its lips—my lips.

  Sparks danced between its fingertips as my double advanced. The storm had caught up to the Mother's Hammer. Clouds blocked the setting sun, darkening the room. Flashes of lightning played against the ceiling, mirroring the electricity from the gauntlet.

  Right before the doppelganger released the lightning into my defenseless chest, the storm-kin appeared in the doorway of the pilot's room.

  "You liar!" screamed Zentrii at my double. "You're trying to steal my storm again!"

  The doppelganger looked surprised at the sudden appearance of the Ala demon. I wasn't sure if it had encountered its like before, but it sensed the danger and immediately fired the gauntlet at Zentrii.

  When the spray of lightning washed over Zentrii, she began to laugh, eyes burning with crimson delight.

  "I was born in a storm, you fool, you can't hurt me that way," said Zentrii.

  With that I knew why Zentrii needed the storm, though I could do nothing about it. The corner of the room held me like a cradle. I was too weak to move or even speak, not that I could have been heard over the engine noise.

  The doppelganger didn't hesitate, pulling the pistol from its belt and firing at close range. The first blast must have hit Zentrii, because there was no way she could have avoided it.

  The storm-kin fled back to the engine room in a zephyr of dark streaking clouds. The doppelganger fired at Zentrii's retreating form, but the storm-kin had moved faster.

  Moments later, a great rending sounded as Zentrii attacked the steam engines. A sudden and damning silence intervened, interrupted only by the low rumble of thunder.

  Filling in the silence was an explosion that I thought meant we were going to crash, but then I realized it'd come from outside the airship. My double glanced to the front, going pale at whatever was approaching from that direction.

  Without delay, it summoned a shimmering portal. At my angle, I could see through the hole in the universe. I saw an alien sky, a color of greenish-purple with islands of stone floating with the clouds. Beneath it, a forest of trees, so ruby in color that they made my eyes hurt from their crimson luminosity, waved in an unseen breeze.

  On a distant hill, surrounded by the too-bright trees, rose an obsidian castle made of stone so dark it absorbed the light. I knew I was looking into Otherland.

  Then the doppelganger stepped through the portal, taking with it my weapons and the gauntlet, stranding me on the Mother's Hammer. The portal shimmered to nothingness right after.

  Using what energy I could muster, I crawled to the control panel, pulled myself up, and looked across the heavens at the American fleet of airships returning from their practice sorties over the Atlantic. The flashes of cannon fire were pinpricks of light against the gloom of the storm.

  Chapter Thirty

  An explosion rocked the airship, sending me to my knees. Without the engines driving through the air, the ship was at the mercy of the storm and the cannon fire.

  Of course, if one blast hit the Mother's Hammer, it would be the end of me.

  I supposed I should have been grateful that Zentrii had only destroyed the engines rather than the blimp. My descent from the heavens would have been immediate, otherwise.

  But without the engines, the airship was moving at a downward angle. I reckoned I would go down in the Atlantic, if the American airships didn't shoot me down first. They weren't supposed to be coming back yet, but the storm must have forced them to end maneuvers early.

  Looking out the side windows, I saw few flashpaper airships remaining. Either the storm or the cannon fire had destroyed them. Leaving me as one of the few remaining targets. The blasts were getting closer as the fleet calibrated their cannons.

  How was I going to get off the airship? Zentrii thought I had lied to her and the
doppelganger had taken the gauntlet back to Otherworld with it, leaving me stranded on the Mother's Hammer.

  Given time and a working engine, I could safely descend, but those airships planned to rip me from the sky. I couldn't blame them. I'm sure they'd seen the firing of the spectral cannon. I just wished I knew if I'd saved Franklin and the others. Then my impending death would be worth it. But I couldn't see enough of the city to know if that was true or not, as I was about to float over the Delaware River.

  Could I land safely in the water? I knew from my previous oversea airship travels that the captain explained jumping out of the craft at a great height would not save you, as the water turned to hard earth at those speeds.

  But Zentrii had mentioned I could use my magic to levitate. I didn't know how to do that, but maybe I could slow myself enough not to hit so hard.

  When a cannon blast hit a turbine, ripping it from the craft and sending the Mother's Hammer lurching sideways, I had no choice but to try. Except I didn't know how to get out of the airship, except in the engine room where I'd blasted the windows out.

  As the storm raged around me, I ran down the hallway. Without one engine, the craft leaned heavily to the port side and I had to keep my hand against the wall or stumble, as I still wasn't fully recovered from the poison.

  The engine room at the rear of the airship was a smoking mess. Zentrii had turned the boilers into crumpled balls of brass. Steam hissed from somewhere nearby, while coal smoke blocked vision and made me want to cough.

  Climbing over the tangled pipes, I made my way to the back. I had to use the dead starboard engine to reach high enough to pull myself up through the broken window, being careful not to cut my hand.

  When I made it to the ledge, I was staring into the guts of the storm. Lightning seethed in the cloying mist. The hair on the back of my neck stood tall. I sensed something happening deeper in the storm, but that wasn't my problem.

  A cannon blast hit the front of the gondola, nearly tossing me over the edge. I grabbed a strut, cutting my hand on a piece of glass. Below me, the glow of Philadelphia passed by like a golden blanket.

  The Mother's Hammer had drifted low enough I could make out steam carriages trundling through the cobblestone streets. I spied the steeple of Congress Hall. I neared the dock district and the Delaware River.

  Knowing I would have to jump soon brought a queasiness to my gut. I needed to use my sorcery to slow my fall without knocking myself out.

  The winds of the storm buffeted my face, blowing hair into my eyes. My hand was slick with blood. When the ship passed over the water, I knew I had to jump soon, or I'd have to swim the river in darkness.

  After kicking my boots off, I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment before pushing away. The river rushed up faster than I expected. The lights of a nearby fishing vessel tacked towards the docks, heading right into my path.

  Not only was I going to hit the water with alarming speed, but it looked like I might go right through a wooden deck. Crudely, I threw my magic downward, trying to push and slow my descent. The wave of purplish sorcery splashed against the fishing vessel, splitting deck planks like toothpicks.

  The impact veered me back over the water, but I was still moving too fast. Using both hands, I thrust downward, and the blast hit the water right before I did.

  Instantly, I was submerged far beneath the surface. The impact knocked the air from my lungs, but I was conscious.

  For a moment, I wasn't sure which way was up, everything in the water was black. But then I noticed that one direction was slightly lighter and kicked towards it.

  After what seemed like a full minute, I broke the surface of the water and gasped for air. Behind me, the shouts of sailors echoed across the water while thunder crashed overhead.

  My sorcerous efforts had ripped apart the passing fishing vessel. It still floated, but the deck was ruined. I thanked the stars that I hadn't killed anyone.

  Though my arms and legs were lead, I made my way to the shore, finding a section of piled rocks to crawl upon and rest. Almost as soon as I stopped moving, the rain started coming down.

  As I rested, the hum of multiple airships passed overhead. The American fleet was destroying the rest of our flashpaper fleet.

  After I'd wrapped my wounded hand with a handkerchief and when my limbs had stopped shaking enough that I could move again, I climbed up a ladder to the docks.

  I was standing in the pouring rain deciding how I would get back to the other side of the city when a horse-drawn wagon stopped on the street.

  An older gentleman in a wide-brimmed hat with his son sitting on the bench next to him called out to me.

  "Madam, it's a bad night to be out in a storm like this. Omens abound. Sounds like a battle going on overhead," he said, while the rain splashed around us.

  "Your words are plain but true," I said, not feeling up to pleasantries.

  "Is madam waiting for someone, or could an old Pennsylvanian farmer offer a ride? There's no room on the front, but you could grab a seat in back with the turnips. You're already wet, so...there's that," said the farmer.

  "Your kindness is appreciated," I said. "I will take you up on your offer."

  "Where ya headed?" he asked, as rain streamed from the brim of his wide hat.

  As I climbed onto the back amid the piles of turnip roots, blinking away the constant water, I yelled to the front.

  "The Franklin Estate, if it's not out of the way."

  Without another word, the farmer nodded and cracked his whip, urging the horses forward. It was good to be on the ground again, but I was still nervous. I wasn't sure if there was anything left to return to.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The Franklin Estate was intact when the farmer dropped me off. I thanked him and wished him a safe journey, though I was too preoccupied with the fact that the building we'd constructed was also still standing to give him a proper farewell. The blast from the spectral cannon had gone somewhere else in the city, but I’d seen no signs of damage from the back of the farmer's wagon.

  The front of the estate was empty of the black steam carriages. The guests of the party had left.

  I found my coconspirators in the parlor nursing glasses of whiskey. Franklin was sitting on a high-backed wooden chair with a nearly empty glass clutched between his hands, his clothing dripping wet. Brassy, in her party gown, was soaked to the bone, the couch dark with wetness around her small form. Only Aught seemed dry, curled up on the other side of the couch. Their faces broke into relief when I stepped into the room.

  "Thank the gods," said Franklin. "You're alive."

  "What happened?" I asked, as Brassy leapt off the couch and ran into my arms. She gave me a smothering hug, but peeled back when she noticed my wounded hand.

  She led me to the couch and made me sit and scurried off in search of mending supplies.

  "When Aught burst into the party, mayhem ensued. If Congress didn't believe in magic before, it does now," said Ben, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

  "Don't blame Aught," I said, giving the golden pangolin a comforting smile, since she had her head hung low. "I told her to come and warn you."

  "There must have been a good reason," said Ben.

  "We'd been infiltrated by a doppelganger," I said.

  I could tell by Ben's reaction that he'd heard of the creatures before. Brassy returned and began working on the cut on my palm, sewing it up with needle and thread.

  While Brassy fixed me, I described the encounter with Djata and what happened after until I had to jump out of the airship. Their eyes went wide at that part of the story. Even I didn't believe it myself.

  Then I explained my theory on Sally Hemings and the others, that the doppelganger kept them alive so he could question and properly impersonate them.

  "So Djata might be alive?" asked Ben.

  "I hope so," I said. "Though I don't know where he is. It's not like he kept them in the same location."

  "Alden was in the
sewers, while Sally was in the barn. I wonder if Enoch Tasker is hidden away somewhere," said Ben. "And are you sure the doppelganger went back to Otherland with the gauntlet?"

  "It certainly wasn't Earth. The trees were so crimson that it made my eyes hurt," I said.

  He nodded. "Yes, that's the place." He shook his head, grimacing. "We needed that gauntlet. Now we have no way to get to Otherland if we need to."

  "What about Djata?" I scolded Ben. "Does his loss mean nothing?"

  "He's not dead yet," said Ben. "Or we hope. I was just taking stock of our situation. Remember, not one of us is more important than the greater cause."

  It was the painful truth. I nodded slowly.

  "What happened here? You never finished," I said.

  "Well, Aught's appearance amid the senators certainly mobilized the party. Once the airships were spotted, most of the congressmen—especially the Federalists—went to pieces. It seems it's easier to argue for war than it is to be involved in it. One of them knocked over the Vice President, cracking his head against the cobblestones, giving him quite the bleeder. He was carried out on a stretcher, and I haven't received word about him yet.

  "But thankfully, as expected, the Warden played his part perfectly. You can't teach bravery. When I gave him the rifle"—Ben nodded towards an overlarge rifle leaning against the corner—"he did exactly what he needed to do."

  The barrel on the weapon was three times wider than a normal rifle. It looked heavy to lift.

  "So Simon was the hero?" I asked.

  Ben gave a relieved smile. "Most of the guests didn't understand the danger, even when he was shooting flashpaper airships out of the sky. But then, when the spectral cannon went off, the full danger was understood by everyone."

  "Do we know where it hit?" I asked.

  "Somewhere on the eastern side of the city," said Ben, his eyes creased with sadness. "I'll have word soon enough about where it hit and how many casualties."