Dead Dukes Tell No Tales

by Catherine Stein

  “Over it?” This time when she turned, she stepped nearer, closing almost all the space between them. “You think I’m over it?”

  Cliff shrugged. “Isn’t that why you’ve been trying to ignore me? Because you’re not interested?”

  “Not interested.” Her chuckle carried no humor. “Hartleigh, I can hardly stand to touch you, but it’s not because I’m not interested. It’s because if I give you any encouragement at all, you might start dragging me off to have your way with me and I’d allow it.”

  Cliff lifted a hand to her cheek. His thumb grazed her lower lip and it trembled. “I fail to understand how that is a bad thing.”

  “It’s a dangerous thing. You’re much too close already.”

  “No.” He bent his head to hers. “I don’t think I’m nearly close enough.”

  Her lips parted almost before he kissed her. He plunged inside, a satisfied growl rumbling deep in his throat as he finally claimed the treasure he’d been coveting for days. She melted beneath him, content to let him lead as their tongues danced and their bodies met. Her arms wound around his neck, his around her waist, and they clung to one another, each the other’s anchor. If they drowned in the passion, they drowned together.

  “Sabine.” Cliff groaned her name as he kissed along her jaw. Damn that high neckline that blocked him from the beautiful column of her throat. “Sabine, maybe we should go downstairs.”

  “Below, Hartleigh.” He liked the breathy quality of her voice. “You don’t say ‘downstairs’ on a ship.”

  “Wherever. Let’s go there.” He tugged her, and she hesitated only a moment before following.

  “Lola will have questions.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” It was difficult to walk and kiss at the same time. Questions were beyond anything his brain could comprehend. Later. He’d explain later.

  A high-pitched keening sound shocked him out of his fog of lust. He and Sabine parted, looking for the source of the noise.

  Cliff’s eyes widened in alarm, taking in the giant creature hurtling at them. “What the…?”

  The pointed beak of the flying mechanical bird speared into the ship’s hull with a shuddering crack. An instant later, the beast exploded.

  41

  Smoke. Fire. Pain. No. Sabine fought the panic rising inside her. This wasn’t the same. She wasn’t wounded. She could stop this.

  She scrambled to her feet. The moment that bird dragon thing had detonated, Cliff had knocked her to the deck, shielding her with his own body. He’d yelled at her to stay down and had run to get Lola.

  Another horrific screech reverberated through the air. A second bird speared the balloon above her. Air hissed from the damaged segment. The ship lurched and dropped several dozen feet as Nicole swung her into an emergency maneuver. Too late. Die Fledermaus sank, slowly, but inexorably.

  The birds rained down upon them, screaming their hideous battle cry. Three, four, a dozen. Some of them missed, plunging into the ocean, but not enough. Too many more punctures to the balloon, and they would plummet hundreds of feet to the water below.

  Sabine covered her ears against the piercing cries. This was a classic Redbeard attack. He didn’t just want you captured or dead. He wanted you wailing in terror, watching helplessly as the end came.

  Another bird-dragon struck above her, and a section of the envelope erupted in flames, so hot that she flinched away.

  Smoke. Fire. So hot. Surrounding her. Choking her. Searing agony spreading over her skin.

  “Sabine, get down!”

  That voice. The memory wavered. This was now, not then. She had to save him. It couldn’t happen again. Not again.

  She ran to the voice, reaching to pull him toward the hatch, to hide him away from the fire and the smoke, but he grabbed her first and she toppled into his arms.

  “Stay down. Cover your head.”

  Her head shook rapidly back and forth. “No. I can’t. I have to fly the ship. We have to escape.”

  “The ship’s doomed. Nicole is taking us down, can’t you feel it?”

  A chunk of flaming debris fell from the sky and she flung herself over him and the little girl he held. “No!” An ember landed on her arm and she screamed in terror. “No!”

  Sabine leapt back to her feet, racing for the helm. “Get away!” She grabbed for the wheel, only to find the firm hands of her engineer clamping down on her. “We have to fly! We have to get away!”

  “Sabine,” Ben’s quiet voice murmured. “Sabine, it’s too late. Sit down and hold on. It will not be pleasant when we hit the water.”

  “Take everyone to the cargo deck,” Nicole ordered. “Prepare to launch the boat.”

  Another hand, even bigger and stronger, grasped her arm, steering her through the smoke. She could see nothing but the flickering flames. Somewhere, metallic screams still echoed through the hazy sky. Dying. They were all dying.

  The big man led her down, down, lifting her into a low, wooden vessel, where the man with the small girl waited for her.

  “Take care with her. She’s not fully with us right now.”

  “I will,” the man with the girl promised. He helped Sabine into a seat, then took her hand and placed it in the hand of the little girl. “Stay here. Hold on to each other. I will be right back.”

  Sabine’s eyelids fluttered and her pulse began to slow now that she was away from the smoke and the flames.

  “Cliff?” she asked. “Hartleigh!” But he’d already dashed off, and she couldn’t desert Lola.

  Lola’s fingers gripped like iron. Her opposite hand moved back and forth, stroking a very patient spider in a motion of self-comfort.

  This is the end. This is death.

  It was better than the last time, and worse. She wasn’t alone, the last survivor, her internal anguish as great as the pain of her flesh. But this time she would see it. She would watch them die.

  The ship cracked and convulsed, wood splintering as it slammed to a sudden halt. Above, the sounds of twisting metal and snapping beams punctuated a steady patter of debris raining down on the ceiling. Cliff darted back into the room, leaping into the boat, a bulging sack in his arms. Hawkes followed on his heels, and a moment later the rest of the crew clambered into the small craft. Ben pulled a lever, and the last undamaged section of the hull gave way, launching the escape boat into the waters beyond.

  “I’ll drive,” Cliff said, climbing to the back of the boat and starting up the engine with practiced hands. The boat sliced through the waves, speeding toward land that seemed dangerously far away and held dangers of its own upon arrival. But only for her.

  Reach it, she chanted in her head. Reach it, reach it, reach it. The others would be safe on land. They could melt into the crowd or hop a train to a new life.

  Her eyes fell on the sack. “What did you fetch?” she asked, needing the distraction.

  “The Sphinx device,” Cliff replied. “In case we need it again. Lola’s doll and her spiders. Her luxene. A medical kit. And your first edition copy of A Study in Scarlet with the handwritten note from Sir Arthur himself that you kept so nicely on your shelf.”

  Sabine gaped at him. If she’d been anyone else, she’d have burst into tears. As it was, she simply sat, unmoving. A single drop overflowed and dribbled down her cheek.

  42

  Cliff’s boots sank into the white sand. Fresh sea air filled his lungs. Overhead, the sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue, and in front of him the Atlantic sparkled like diamonds. The beauty of it all broke his heart. Sabine deserved torrents and howling winds. Something to scream her pain to the world, since she wouldn’t or couldn’t do it herself.

  “I lost my treasure map.” Lola’s arms clamped around Cliff’s waist, and he gave her a reassuring squeeze.

  “I’ll help you make a new one,” he promised. Strange, the things one clung to to cope with such shocking and sudden loss. Half-a-dozen times since they’d made land he’d reached up to adjust his hat, only to realize he wasn’t wearing one. He ha
d no particular attachment to the hat, yet he mourned the lack of it.

  Lola was silent a long moment, then drew back and looked up at him. “What if I don’t want to be a pirate anymore?”

  “Be whatever you want. A princess, a doctor, a squirrel.”

  She giggled, just a tiny laugh, but an encouraging one nonetheless. “Can I be a duke, like you?”

  “Sure. We’ll find a remote island and claim it as our own duchy. You can be Lola, Duke of Spiderhaven.”

  She fell silent again, her head tipping to lay against his side. “Will Sabine live there with us?”

  Cliff’s muscles clenched involuntarily. He had a whole arm free. In an ideal world, Sabine would be tucked beneath it, comforted and comforting, not standing on her own at the water’s edge, waves lapping at her boots. She looked like a lost soul, prepared to fling herself into the ocean, hoping its depths would be kinder to her than the world above had been.

  “I saw you kissing her,” Lola said when he didn’t reply. “Slobbery, yucky kissing. You touched her with your tongue.”

  The accusatory tone made him wince. He didn’t know if she simply found the kissing distasteful in itself or if she was jealous that he’d bestowed his affection on someone other than her. Perhaps she wasn’t even certain.

  “It’s not yucky to grownups.”

  She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “Sabine likes my kisses,” he promised. “I wouldn’t kiss her if she didn’t want me to.”

  Lola’s eyes followed his, taking in Sabine’s hunched shoulders and crossed arms. “She’s sad.”

  “I know, baby. We’re all sad.”

  “But she’s the saddest.”

  Out of the mouths of babes… “You know what she needs?”

  “More kisses?”

  “A hug.” Many hugs. A lifetime of hugs. Affection, love, and compassion. He yearned to give her all that and more. If he tried anything right now, though, she’d turn away, pull further within herself. She hadn’t spoken even to her crewmates since they’d clambered out of the boat. He couldn’t touch her. But Lola could. “A big, big hug from a little girl who loves her.”

  “I’m eight tomorrow. I’m not little.”

  Tomorrow. Jesus. In all the madness, he’d entirely lost track of the days. His to-do list was becoming increasingly unmanageable: hide from pirates, find treasure map, arrange new transportation to South America, help Sabine recover without seeming condescending, throw improvised birthday party.

  “A big, big hug from a girl who will be officially big tomorrow.”

  Lola nodded. She walked across the beach, her expression grave, her shoulders square. At the last moment, she broke into a sudden run, flinging herself at Sabine, who reacted just quickly enough to avoid toppling onto the wet sand.

  Cliff followed slowly, giving them both time to adjust to the awkward embrace. Sabine remained stiff and didn’t speak, but she draped an arm around Lola, giving her a gentle pat.

  “Don’t be sad, Sabine,” Lola said. “Lots of pirates lose their ships. You can steal a new one. Or I can ask Daddy to buy me one for my birthday and you can have it.”

  Sudden tears welled in Cliff’s eyes, and he brushed them away with the back of his hand. Hell, yes, he’d buy her a ship. He’d buy her five ships. But that wasn’t what she needed. Sabine could afford to buy her own ships. She couldn’t buy love. Cliff could only hope that she would accept it when it was offered freely.

  He walked to stand beside her, saying nothing, looking out at the wreckage of her airship as it came apart in the waves. Wisps of smoke still curled into the air from sections of the burnt hull. It could have been so much worse. They were stranded, with little more than the clothes on their backs, but they were alive. All that mattered to him was right here.

  He curved an arm around Sabine, resting his hand against the small of her back. For a moment she remained frozen, and he thought she might pull back or push him away. Then she relaxed beneath his touch and turned into him, letting her head fall onto his shoulder and splaying a hand across his chest. He brought her closer. Lola snugged up between them, grasping Cliff’s other hand.

  Alive. Together. Not one of them spoke. The sea breeze toyed with their hair and their clothing. Waves rolled gently onto shore, their soothing music an eerie contrast to the destruction that was steadily sinking into their depths.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Cliff twitched, stunned that Sabine had been first to break the silence.

  “I hope you mean sorry we’re all stranded here, and not sorry it was your fault,” he replied. “Because it wasn’t. Yvette’s ship was a good match for yours, and you mixed the two up thoroughly before we left. We had a fifty-fifty chance. It was as good as we could hope for.”

  Her fingers clenched on his clothing. “Sorry I didn’t help.” Her words were sharp, angry. “Sorry I did nothing.”

  “You were scared. It happens.”

  “I was useless!”

  She started to pull away, but he tightened his grip. “Sabine. You were terrified. Your body reacted in a way you didn’t like. Sometimes that happens. Because you’re human. You’re not a machine that does the same thing over and over.”

  She twisted in his arms, yanking on the front of her bodice, tearing the buttons loose to expose a simple corset and the top of her chestplate. “I am. I am a machine. Look at me. I don’t even have a heart! Only a pile of gears. But I might as well be a piece of your scrap, for all the good I did you!”

  Lola stared at Sabine’s chest. She lifted a single finger to touch right between her breasts, where flesh met metal. “Miss La Capitaine,” she whispered, her voice trembling with awe. “You’re just like me.”

  “Yes. We’re both broken and put back together.”

  Lola took a step back, frowning. She put her hands on her hips. “Daddy says I’m not broken, I’m beautiful. I think you’re beautiful, too.”

  “So do I,” Cliff murmured.

  Sabine pushed against his chest, and he relaxed his grip, letting her go. She’d taken more comfort from him than he’d expected. He’d keep trying, but he wouldn’t overwhelm her.

  “Sir! Ma’am!”

  Sabine spun back into his arms at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, hiding her damaged bodice. Her hand slipped between them, working at the buttons that hadn’t come off. “I’m your wife,” she hissed. “I’m shy.”

  The man who had called out jogged toward them. “Sir! Were you-all the passengers from the crashed airship? Is anyone hurt? Shall I send for a doctor?”

  “We’re unharmed,” Cliff replied, “but we’ve lost most of our possessions and are in need of a room for the night. I would appreciate it if you could point us to a quiet hotel where my wife and daughter might recover. And then, perhaps, a shop where I might gather a few personal items.”

  “And a telephone,” Sabine whispered.

  “Ah, and I will need the use of a telephone, as well.”

  “My pleasure, young man. Come this way and I’ll call you a carriage to drive you into town. Are there other survivors hereabouts?”

  “No one else was aboard the ship other than the crew, and they are all accounted for. I believe they are making their own arrangements.” Back to the plan. Not our ship. We were only passengers.

  “Good, good. I am happy to hear no one was harmed. Dangerous things, these dirigibles. Please, come with me.”

  They followed the man away from shore, pausing only to pick up the sack with their few possessions. Hawkes handed it over with no more than a nod, then he and the others walked off in the opposite direction. Plan in motion, despite the lack of a ship.

  Cliff walked silently, holding Lola’s hand, his other arm still around Sabine. She was all business, once again, moving on from her pain and sorrow, the way she must have done her entire life. God, was she strong. He desperately wanted to be the one who held her and supported her, so that every once in a while, she didn’t have to be. Her firm stride and the serious set o
f her jaw were at odds with the shy, helpless woman she was playing, but she stayed close to his side and neither flinched nor drew away when he let his hand slide soothingly up her back. For now, that was enough.

  43

  He was going to kill her with patience. That was his secret.

  Sabine slowly undid the remaining buttons on her bodice and hung it in the wardrobe, trying to resist the urge to turn and look at him. She would have to find a new dress tomorrow. She could only get away with, “My dress was damaged in an airship crash,” for so long, and the more attention she drew to herself, the better the chances that someone in town would recognize her.

  She hung her skirt, as well, before loosening the laces of her corset. She could sleep in her shift, the way she usually did onboard ship—at least during peaceful times when she wasn’t merely sleeping in her clothes, ready to jump back to work at a moment’s notice. Nightgowns were reserved for her rare bouts of lounging around at home. In these surroundings, however, she felt strange without one.

  A “quiet hotel” had conjured up images of small, plain rooms, perhaps with the feel of a country inn. Instead, they had been escorted to this den of luxury. Everything was beautiful and expensive: plush carpets, ornately papered walls, a wealth of electric lights. It struck her as the sort of place the president might stay if he came to town.

  The high four-poster bed had heavy curtains and embroidered coverings. It was wide enough for all three of them to sleep comfortably. Lola had already built herself a fort from the vast number of pillows. To be perfectly honest, it reminded Sabine of the bed in her duke’s palace back in England.

  An odd burst of longing swept through her, and it took several seconds to recognize it for what it was. She was homesick. She had put a great deal of her hard-earned money into the purchase of that house. The first home she’d ever owned. The only place in the world aside from her ship that had ever been hers. With Die Fledermaus at rest beneath the waves, it was her only home.