Dead Dukes Tell No Tales

by Catherine Stein

  Distant noises echoed from the corridor behind them. Cliff climbed into the elevator and helped Lola down after him. “Thank you,” he said.

  Palmer nodded. “My pleasure. Happy to work with La Capitaine again, even if only for a day. Good luck.” He ran his fingers across the bricks again, and the hidden hatch began to close.

  Lights came on the moment the hatch closed completely, and the elevator descended deep beneath the ground. At the bottom, it opened into a cylindrical concrete tunnel, reinforced by steel ribbing every ten feet. A flat cart looked to be connected to a track running along the bottom of the tunnel.

  “This is her smuggling tunnel,” Cliff marveled. “She would have unloaded her cargo and sent it along here, under the river, right to the people who would distribute it.” He circled around the cart and found a panel of simple control switches. “Hop on.”

  The cart drove slowly, but silently, and turned what would have been a long, boring walk into a long, boring rest. Lola leaned against him and rehashed everything that had happened at the inn. The barroom brawl had excited her more than frightened her, thankfully, but she was sensible enough to finish with, “I don’t think we should go there again.”

  The far end of the tunnel had an elevator identical to the one near the inn, and they quickly found themselves standing in a small, square room with a mechanical door in the ceiling. Cliff pulled a lever, and the heavy metal plates began to shift, the clanking of the gears sounding much too loud in the small chamber. He climbed up out of the hole into the middle of a thick clump of bushes, then reached down and pulled Lola up after him. He kicked the lever and the door closed, hidden away beneath the dirt. He saw no way to open the tunnel from this side. The smuggling operation required a team effort.

  Cliff and Lola pushed their way out of the bushes into the sunlight. Dozens of airships covered the grassy lawn in front of them, many unloading cargo. The closest ship, a beautiful small craft with a ladle-shaped hull and a round blue balloon, stood no more than fifteen yards away. A red-haired woman in a very low-cut dress was stepping down from the ladder built into the hull. A mechanical snake hung around her neck like a scarf.

  The woman turned just in time to see Cliff and Lola step out from the cluster of shrubs. She started, then smiled.

  “Oh!” she said in a distinctly British accent. “You must be Sabine’s duke. You’re cute.”

  46

  Sabine limped to the water’s edge and bent to scrub the blood from her hands. This city was the bane of her pirating career. She was never coming back. Not for anything. Tragic, how a place of such beauty, with its sweeping beaches, curving rivers, and trees dripping with lush Spanish moss, could bring her nothing but pain and death.

  Or near death. Redbeard’s spy had still been alive when Sabine had left her, and there was a chance someone would get to her on time. If not… she’d brought it upon herself when she’d attacked.

  She’d been good—just figuring out which exit Sabine had taken and following her had required skill—but not good enough. The Pirate’s House boasted an array of swords, not all of them decorative, and Sabine had grabbed one on her way out. Maybe if Redbeard allowed his female employees to study swordplay, the woman would have stood a chance. For tonight, Sabine was glad he didn’t.

  Sabine’s head spun as she rose, and she had to wait for the wave of dizziness to pass before she walked on. She jogged as best she could on her aching knee. Her enemy had gotten in a solid blow right on the kneecap, and it would probably hurt for days. Beneath her skirts, the hastily tied-on sword banged against her leg. The ache in her side had dulled somewhat, but the wound was still sticky with blood. She’d get it checked out at the airfield. She was leaving tonight, whether Charlie had arrived or not.

  “You going across the river?” she asked a man sitting beside a small boat, smoking a cigarette.

  He blew out a ring of smoke. “Not planning on it.”

  Sabine pulled out the remainder of the coins she’d pickpocketed over the last few days. “Can I change your mind?”

  He grinned, stubbed out the cigarette, and accepted the bribe. “You sure can, miss. Hop aboard.”

  The rapidly fading sunlight and Sabine’s dark dress hid most of the blood stains, but if the man noticed, he didn’t say anything. Her bribe was big enough to keep him silent for now. If anyone came along asking questions later, she’d be long gone.

  Across the river, merchant dirigibles drifted slowly to the skies, taking advantage of the weather as they departed for long, overnight journeys. Other ships rested in the field, their cargo loaded or unloaded, silently waiting for morning. These were the quiet hours in the airfield. The smugglers wouldn’t be out until well past dark.

  Sabine remained silent during the river crossing and as she limped across the airfield in search of her crew. Even the air felt heavy tonight. Too many old memories pressing down on her. Too many new ones adding to their weight.

  The sight of Charlie’s speedy little sloop lightened her heart and her step. They’d arrived. And the ship beside his…

  Sabine almost stopped walking to gawk at it. Gorgeous. The hull was of dark, polished wood, with a gray ovoid balloon, and a sturdy, but artistically carved rail. She was larger than Die Fledermaus had been, but still small enough to fly with a crew of four or five.

  Sabine picked up her pace, hoping this was the ship meant for her. Her knee twinged and the wound in her side stabbed, but the promise of a new ship pushed her through the pain.

  “Captain.” Charlie tipped his hat to her as she raced up. “Good to see you. What do you think of her?”

  “She’s astounding. I’ll pay whatever you’re asking.”

  “Well, in that case…” Charlie gave her a grin. “Actually, she’s pretty sparse on the inside, so you’ll want to bring her to get fancied up when you can. But she has room for a family of four and a crew of ten, and a wee bit more cargo space than you had in the past. Two functioning water closets and a shower.”

  “Perfect. Has my crew seen her?”

  “What, you mean my crew that has mysteriously increased during the course of the day? Yes, they’re on board. I believe they’ve already inspected her from stem to stern.”

  Sabine stepped closer and lowered her voice. “And the duke and his daughter?”

  Her mechanical heart hitched in her chest. They were here. They had to be here. Palmer would have found her if anything had gone wrong.

  “On The Kestrel with Effie.”

  Sabine let out a relieved breath. “Thank God. You don’t think you could…”

  “Fly them back to England? Not a chance. His Grace would probably leap over the side of the ship trying to catch you. He’s been frantic with worry. The man’s crazy for you, Sabine.”

  “I know. I…” Want to keep him safe. I want him never to leave my side. And there’s no way to do both.

  “Sabine!”

  She turned toward The Kestrel at the sound of her name. Effie hopped to the ground, skipping the last few rungs of the ladder and bounding across the grass. Cliff and Lola scrambled down after her. Sabine’s aching muscles relaxed at the sight of them, unharmed.

  “Sabine, it’s so good to see you,” Effie called. “I brought you a few dresses, since you’d lost everything. They’re not all your usual style, but… Oh!”

  “What?” Sabine glanced down at herself. She’d stepped into a pool of light cast by the ship’s lanterns. Her dress was smeared with much more blood than she’d realized. “It’s not mine,” she replied. The pain in her side intensified, just thinking about it. “Not all mine.”

  Her knees trembled. Now that the rush of the fight had worn off, her body had begun to protest. Her head swam. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

  “Sabine!” Cliff pushed past Effie. “My God, what happened?”

  She waved him away. “I’m fine. I should sit down. Rest.”

  He walked straight up to her and scooped her off her feet. Her skirts tangled and t
he sword dangled awkwardly from her hip.

  “Lower the cargo hoist and fetch a medical kit,” Cliff demanded.

  Charlie grabbed for the handholds running up the side of her new ship and scampered up to do Cliff’s bidding. Sabine squirmed in his arms.

  “Put me down.”

  “No.”

  “I’m fine.” She winced as her wiggling sent another jolt of pain through her. “A few stitches at most.”

  It wasn’t just the wound, though. She hadn’t slept much the last few days, nor had she been eating right. Hiding out wasn’t really the healthiest way to live. But she’d gotten by.

  “I’ve been through a lot worse and you know it. I’ll walk myself to bed, have some food and drink. I can handle it. I don’t need…”

  “Shut up,” he snarled, sounding so unlike his usual self that her mouth dropped open in shock. “Just shut up.”

  The cargo hoist hit the ground and he stepped onto it, nodding his head at Lola to tell her to join them.

  “I know you don’t need me,” he continued as they rose into the air. “I know you’re fierce as Boadicea and twice as deadly. Hell, you probably wouldn’t ask for help if you’d cut off your whole damn arm. But, goddammit, Sabine, tonight, just once, you’re going to let someone take care of you, okay? Give me one night. One single night. And then I won’t ask anything of you again.”

  What was he even talking about? He was being ridiculous. He’d be back to making demands tomorrow. Probably of the silent, stare-at-you-until-you-give-in type. Sabine was too exhausted to protest, though, especially in the comforting embrace of his arms. She let her head fall onto his shoulder as he carried her across the deck and down to the captain’s cabin.

  As Charlie had warned her, it was unfinished. The walls were bare wood and uncovered lightbulbs hung from the ceiling. The built-in shelves were only half-complete, and not a stick of furniture had been brought in.

  And yet someone had turned it into a home.

  A pile of blankets on the floor had been carefully spread out and smoothed down to serve as a bed. A small, glass spider home sat beside a second, smaller bedroll, where a pirate doll lay propped on a pillow. The dresses from Effie were neatly folded in a corner, and topped with a few simple grooming items. Cliff’s and Lola’s personal effects rested nearby, also neatly stowed. The Sphinx device made a makeshift bedside table, Sabine’s Sherlock Holmes novel sitting atop it.

  Cliff placed her in—or on, more accurately—the bed and began stripping off her clothing without a word. He found the map to the Heart of Ra tucked beneath her layers and laid it atop her book without even looking at it. Sabine never saw who took away her ripped and blood-stained dress, but she didn’t expect to ever see it again.

  “Good.” The word rushed out of him on a heavy breath. “You weren’t lying about it not being your blood. Who on the crew has experience with stitches?”

  “They all do. But Hawkes is the neatest.”

  “I’ll fetch him.”

  Five simple stitches sealed up her wound nicely, and by the time they were complete, the ship had launched, carrying her away from the memories that cut much deeper than any knife could.

  Cliff returned to her side the moment she was patched up. He wiped her clean of blood and grime, propped her up with pillows and towels so she could sit comfortably, brought her food and drink, and even undid her mess of a hairdo, combing it out with gentle fingers.

  Sabine closed her eyes as the brush ran through her hair, teasing the tangles free and smoothing it down. No one had ever brushed her hair for her, that she could remember.

  “You’re good at that,” she murmured.

  He chuckled. “Of course I’m good at it. I have an eight-year-old daughter. I do it every day.” He divided her hair into sections and began to weave an intricate braid along one side of her head. “You should see what happens when she tries to brush it herself.”

  “I missed her birthday.” Sabine’s eyes flew open, seeking Lola, but the girl was already in her makeshift bed, lulled to sleep by the sway of the airship. “I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to her soon. Get her a special treasure for her heart.”

  Cliff’s lips brushed her neck. “You should wind yours.”

  “Yes.”

  Sabine hadn’t dressed after her stitches, and it took her only seconds to open her chestplate and ensure that she would keep ticking for another several days. Cliff finished a second braid, set the comb down, and then settled himself against the wall, lifting her into his lap.

  “You were lucky,” he murmured, running his fingers over the long scratch at the bottom of her chestplate. “Between the ribs of your corset and this, you were spared serious damage.”

  “It wasn’t luck. I use my metal body as armor. As much as possible I protect my right side and leave the left exposed.”

  He twitched, then his arms came around her. “That’s why you always put me on your right. I thought it was because I can’t walk in a straight line.”

  “No. Left side faces the enemy. Anything I’m guarding goes on the right.”

  “You’ve been protecting me, all this time.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ve trusted me from the start.”

  Sabine had to think for a moment. “Yes, I suppose that’s true too. If I’d thought you likely to stab me in the back, I would have done things differently.”

  He kissed her again, the softest, gentlest kiss she’d ever felt. Her eyes closed once more, and her limbs became boneless in his embrace. How could such a tiny thing hold such immense power? Here and now she would have given anything to stay this way forever.

  “Thank you for this,” he murmured.

  “Thank you,” she replied. Her worn-out body surrendered, welcoming sleep’s embrace.

  Soft. Warm. Loving.

  Fire. Smoke. Pain. The liquid fire covered her, eating away at her flesh, tearing the life from her body. She screamed, the sound coming from outside her body, where the fire consumed all she loved. Coming from him.

  No!

  “No!”

  “Sabine!” Strong arms hugged her to a firm chest. “Sabine, I’m here. It was only a dream. You’re safe.”

  She gasped for air. Sweat trickled down her back. Slowly, the trembling in her limbs began to ease. She shifted out of Cliff’s arms and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling.

  “They’ve been bad since Die Fledermaus went down,” she said. Her voice was soft and still a bit shaky, but she continued. “A little mixed up now, between the two events. And sometimes you’re there.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  For the first time in her life, she did. “Redbeard plays a long game. He’ll take opportunities as he sees them, but if he doesn’t succeed, he’ll pull back. Wait. He will be just as satisfied to revenge himself upon me in five years as he would be to do it now.

  “Four years ago, my own career was flourishing. I flew goods between Europe and the Americas, the best smuggler in the world. I had a fleet of four fast ships, run by trusted lieutenants, such as the Palmers and Hawkes. I had just commissioned Die Fledermaus to be my personal craft, and I was recruiting new crewmen to take over the running of the ship I had been using. Among them was a former Daughter of Redbeard, a woman about my own age named Victoria.

  “That was my greatest joy and triumph, to bring others out from under his clutches. To show them how much better life could be when we worked together, making decisions as a group and valuing all the skills we possessed without judgment.

  “My ship was crewed entirely by Redbeard’s former workers, four women and two men, and they were my world. My friends, my family, my lover. I adored them all with everything in me.”

  Tears trickled down Sabine’s cheeks, unchecked. Cliff made no move to wipe them away or to embrace her, but his arm pressed into hers, reminding her that he was there. Ready. Listening.

  “Savannah was one of our most profitable locations. We were preparing to leave, flush with
cash and some lovely new things we’d purchased with our earnings. The crew were already aboard. I always did the final check to make certain nothing was left behind. I was preparing to board when I saw Victoria coming down the ramp with two of the airfield cargomen. I knew immediately something was wrong. She smiled and told me they’d just loaded the last box.

  “Everything past that is a blur. I pushed past them, somehow, running for the deck, screaming for the rest of my crew. The explosion obliterated half the ship. I don’t—” She swallowed back a sob before continuing. “I don’t think they suffered, but my heart was destroyed in an instant. The blast knocked me to the deck and everything around me was smoke and flame. The explosion had spattered gobs of thick, burning liquid everywhere, including across the left side of my body. I just lay there, weeping in agony, wishing that death would take me as my world burned down around me.”

  A long silence fell. Sabine stared up at the unadorned ceiling, listening to the hum of the dirigible’s engine and Lola’s steady breathing.

  “Do you want me to hold you now?” Cliff whispered.

  In answer, she rolled over, burying her tear-stained face against his chest. He cradled her, his hand stroking over her back, strong, but soothing.

  “I don’t know who found me,” Sabine said, “but I woke hooked up to a machine in the office of a biomechanologist. She told me if I wanted to live I would need a mechanical heart. I agreed. As soon as I was able, I hunted down Victoria and stabbed her straight through her own traitorous heart, right in the middle of the street. I spent the next year doing nothing but harassing Redbeard and causing as much trouble as possible. Charlie’s ship? We stole it from Redbeard. Killed six of his men and lost none of ours, though Charlie lost his eye, and one man lost a hand. Eventually I went back to pirating, because it didn’t matter. My heart was shattered beyond all hope of repair. Nothing could bring them back. Nothing could heal me.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Cliff whispered. “I would take away your pain in an instant if I could.”