by SJ Davis
The child nodded.
Passing the box onto one of her fighters, Seleste held her hand out to Candy. “Let’s wash that face off.”
They swayed with the movement of the city in motion, almost second nature at this point. Seleste drew her pistol and blew a kiss at Red. “Kiss the devil for me when you see him.”
She fired. The blast punched right through Red’s chest, and into his heart—barely slowed by his armor. The automaton lurched forward and crashed down in front of the clock, causing the floorboards to jump. He went silent, and the only sound in the moment was the clock’s endless ticking.
Seleste laughed. “I guess he did have a heart in there after all.”
She tugged on Candy’s arm, but the child hung back. She turned her large eyes up at the lady. “You know where to look, deep down in the depths of the book. As light as a feather, there bound in red leather.”
Seleste scowled.
“The library’s basements,” Candy explained.
“Show me.”
And she did, leading the lady and her guards past the chaos in the streets of Seleste’s fighters as they looted every home and business they came across. Fires had broken out, and the city had not stopped its flight. As they moved toward their destination, more of her men fell in line with them.
Lady Seleste shot through the iron gates of the library with her gun, its blast sizzling clean through the iron bars. They climbed down winding stairs, past the unmoving elevator cables. The electrical lights still burned brightly, unchanged by the events all around them, and the doors opened to a study much like Professor Apple’s.
“Red leather. Feather,” Candy trailed into the room, repeating herself several times.
“You’ve never been here before, have you?”
“Lady!” one of the guards shouted from across the space.
Seleste, the box still tucked underneath her arm, crossed the study in three great strides with Candy tumbling along in her wake.
Her man dropped to a knee and held up a red, leather bound tome engraved with a feather.
“What’s this?” Seleste gently stole the book from his hands. She flicked through the pages, back and forth, two times. It was just a book. Glaring at Candy, she asked, “Another clue? This is no game.”
The child tiptoed ahead to where the book had been, reached in its place and twisted the inconspicuous grooves of metal in the shelf with slender fingers.
The Chaos Star rose up, its blue glow filling the study and a huge wire drawing away from its base connecting it to the city.
Seleste hammered a hand over her eyes. The blue halo circling an unseen fire and two diamond-like shapes forever rotating around each other were too bright to look at.
One of her men screamed as he reached for it, the Star vaporizing his hand in its azure light.
Candy whirled to Seleste and held out her hands, palms flat. “My heart, if you please, and I’ll safely unlock the Star.”
“Awfully bright for a child.” Seleste’s gaze narrowed. “We can do this on our own.” She tossed the box down to Candy’s arms.
Candy gazed back up, childlike wonder splayed on her innocent-appearing face. “But I don’t know how to wear this.”
Seleste was staring at the Chaos Star. “Find your own surgeon. Did you hear that?”
The city swayed and groaned again, its legs tilting at odd angles as if drunkenly stumbling. Something underneath them moaned, like the rumbling of a monster’s stomach.
The lady staggered for balance, several fighters crashed to the ground, and the box tumbled out of Candy’s hand. The rumbling underneath them increased as the citywide intercom crackled and briefly scratched as if an angry cat were trapped inside of it.
Arcs of electricity erupted from the Star. The fighters pulled back, scrambling toward the door.
“Get back here!” Seleste screamed, but they were gone. The scratching turned into metallic laughter as she caught her breath and her balance.
Red’s voice Blared out from the speakers, “Should’ve shot my brain instead of the heart, little witch.”
Confusion flickered across the lady’s face.
“The clock you shot me next to is wired to the city.”
Seleste hissed, “You’ll soon be without the Star.”
“I can feel you walking on me. The vibrations… I hear your voice, the echolocation, so intense.”
The city lurched beneath her feet again as Red fought for control of its legs. Candy cried aloud, and tried to pull the box back into her hands. The lid slipped open and the bronzed heart rolled out. A metal cord attached to a pocket-watch timer spilled out, and the heart split in twain. Its pumps, valves, cogs and springs erupted out of the contraption as Candy wailed.
Seleste raised an eyebrow through her stone expression. “Did you think bronze would even work for a heart?”
“The heart was fake?” Red’s voice cackled.
“Of course. You didn’t know about his daughter’s proclivities?”
She watched the child crawling around, rolling the clanking pieces together and trying to restore its shape.
Lady Seleste rose and dusted herself off. She stared directly ahead at the Star, inching toward it as the blue diamond-shapes constantly shifted form. “It’s mine. It’s mine.”
“No,” Red’s voice rattled through the intercom. “Stay away from that.”
Seleste squared her jaw and pulled out her knife. All she had to do was cut the cable underneath. It was so clear to her.
“Get away!”
She smirked. “What can you do, tinman? You’ll be dead soon enough. A human brain can’t control this machinery indefinitely, no matter how practiced it is. Nor will Candy survive long enough…”
She gasped. The Star dimmed in her vision. She tried to twist around, but fiery agony blazed along her back and she was stuck on something.
Red’s metallic laughter cackled. “At least I know not to turn my back on a murderer—even if it is a child.”
Candy was too short to withdraw the blade she had stuck Seleste with when the lady had jumped to her feet. The lady burst for the door, but ricocheted off a table. Crashing to her knees, she immediately pushed herself up and crawled forward.
A shadow descended. She looked up to see a mouthful of child’s teeth descending over her.
Teeth were the last thing she saw.
Red’s laughter tinkled through the system. “Where to, Candy? We’ll see which one of us falls down first.”
Clear Skies
Andrea L. Staum
Domaroc groaned as he got out of the plush bed, his muscles protesting the movement. He would never become accustomed to the luxury of a bed with soft, clean sheets. Taking an unsteady step toward the freestanding wardrobe, he pulled open the carved door, the corner of his mouth inadvertently dropping in a snarl as the new uniform revealed itself. The stifled whimper behind him didn’t escape his hearing.
Dom looked over his shoulder to the doorway. He hadn’t realized Carialis had left the bed, but she was already dressed for the day and carrying a breakfast tray for him. Looking at her brought a smile to his lips, and he turned away from the wardrobe to take the tray from her.
His wife had spoken her mind about his decision, and Domaroc knew her upbringing would keep her from saying anymore. The worry lines at the corners of her bright, cerulean eyes were the only indication of displeasure Ali would give him.
Setting the food on the vanity beside the door, he placed a light kiss on her cheek. “It will be fine, my love. It is a run like many I’ve made a hundred times before,” Domaroc coaxed her with a half-smile on his lips. He reached out and brushed a strand of Carialis’s raven black hair from away from her eyes. “I will always come back to you.”
Ali shook her head, causing the strand to fall once more across her vision. “You said that before and look what happened.” Her hand tracing the three scars that ran parallel across his chest, she bit her lip. “Dom, you barely survived.”<
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“But I did, love, I came back. You know how hard it has been for me to be hired on because of that.” He gripped her hand in his and brought her fingertips to his lips. As one of the few to make it out of the Jungles of Ruus alive, his survival had brought with it some unexpected consequences.
Most of this was due to the fact that Navarro Grey—who had been his captain and best friend—had been ruled a traitor and his ship, the Star Stryker, had been destroyed by sabotage. He had been Navarro’s second-in-command, an unusual promotion for a mechanic, in the eyes of many airshipmen that made it hard to believe that Domaroc hadn’t suspected Navarro’s betrayal. As Chief Mechanic, Dom should have seen the broken converter before it caused the airship into a forced landing.
Domaroc bore the scars from Quanda of the Ranar Cat clan’s claws, a race many still believed a myth. He had been captured and held for a number of weeks before his rescue. When his dreams weren’t laced with thoughts of Quanda and his captivity, he retraced every line and pipe of the engine room and replayed conversations to figure out how Navarro had fooled him. While the judges had ruled Domaroc clear of any conspiracy, the docks had their own sentence to pass, and he had been declared guilty until he could prove otherwise. There was only one way to do that, and it was to get back into the sky.
Ali sighed and cupped his cheek. “Father would have hired you on.”
Dom laughed. “Your father hates me.”
“That may be,” she affirmed, “but he knows you’re the best ship’s mechanic in the fleet.”
“I won’t serve under a man like your father, love. I’ve told you that before,” he stated, turning away so he could continue to dress. The uniform was new and freshly starched. It would be incredibly uncomfortable, but he would have to at least report for duty in it. Once he got to the airship’s boiler room, he intended to shed the grey-green wool outfit for a cotton shirt and trousers. It would be somewhat insubordinate, but his new captain would, thankfully, go out of his way to avoid the engine room and Dom.
All he needed to do was keep the ship flying for one run. One run, under this one captain, with no issues should do the trick in clearing his name on the docks. Or so he secretly hoped. He didn’t know how many runs he could stand to make aboard a fleet ship, he preferred the freighters and less kept patrol frigates—those piles of iron usually weren’t well kept and could use a skilled mechanic to keep them afloat.
“Can’t you wait until after the baby?” Carialis pleaded, her hands resting on her inflated stomach. “It won’t be too much longer.”
Dom closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “If only I could, but there isn’t enough in our coffers for me to lounge here.”
Ali let out an aggravated sigh. “I thought the judges had ruled we would receive the policy payment since the sabotage was not of your doing!”
He turned back to her and placed a hand on each of her upper arms. “That is true, love, but it could be months before we receive that.”
“Father…”
“No!” he stated firmly, letting go of Ali before he involuntarily hurt her. He took after the buttons of his jacket with a vengeance. “I will not be indebted to your family.”
Carialis sat down on the lid of his trunk, looking down at her hands, now clean from preparing their home for the baby. She marveled at how unblemished they were, after years of being black in every crevice.
Watching Ali staring at her hands, Domaroc mused about his wife. He knew she had enjoyed the newness of being a housewife, but he could tell she missed her workroom and being elbow deep in grease. He wasn’t sure she could cope without working on her schematics and machines.
Ali rubbed her hands together, worry lines etching her high forehead. “Is this how it will be then? I will always be sitting and wondering if you’ll return to me?”
He stopped buttoning his cuffs and turned to her, kneeling down, and taking her hands in his. “I will always return to you.” He cupped her face with his hand, his thumb brushing a tear from her cheek. “Perhaps I am rushing this.”
She shook her head. “No, you’re right.” She choked back a sob and straightened her back; since the baby had begun to show, she had given up on corsets and her posture had suffered. While his wife had forsaken the life of leisure of a high-born lady to pursue engineering, the forced smile, that did not reach her eyes, betrayed her upbringing. “You’re happiest in a hot engine room of an airship. It was foolish of me to try and ground you.”
Carialis never failed to surprise him with her directness. He had watched her battle her emotions since he had begun searching for a new post, but since the one and only argument, she hadn’t spoken out.
He shook his head. “No, I’m happiest in your arms, but the last time I checked, that doesn’t pay the rent,” Dom replied, counting his blessings that Carialis didn’t know that the rent was forever paid on their little apartment.
There was truly no monetary need for him to leave her, but solid ground had never felt sturdy beneath his feet. That was why, when his grandfather had taken him along to an engagement aboard the fleet’s flagship as a lad, Dom had fallen in love with the greasy, noisy, inner sanctum. The ship’s heart and soul; what grounders called an engine room.
To the dismay of his parents, his grandfather had encouraged Dom to pursue his interest in the career. He had done so happily. With seventeen cousins, there were enough with the Morris-Lowe name to carry on the politics and high society, allowing him to run amok.
Domaroc shook his head again to dismiss the sudden barrage of sentiment and looked up into Carialis’ sapphire eyes. “I will dream of you every night.”
Carialis leaned forward, a soft smile playing her delicate lips as she kissed his forehead. He pulled her close, placing his head against her chest. With his chin resting on her large belly, he listened to the odd combination of the ticking watch she had pinned to her chest and the tandem heartbeats coming from her body. It was a soothing rhythm that he had become accustomed to since his return from being a captive of the Ranar Cat Clan. Its calming effect may have been the only reason he wasn’t plagued with more nightmares and guilt.
He pulled away, clasping Carialis’s hands together in his before standing. Bowing at the waist, he kissed the tears silently gliding down her pale cheeks. Domaroc rested Ali’s hands on her belly and turned away without another word. He feared his voice would betray his own anxiety and didn’t want to distress her any more than he already had. He left the apartment knowing the ship’s porter would come for his luggage. Dom was only responsible for getting himself to the dock.
StarStryker hadn’t spent much time in the capitol, but Dom had grown up in the city and preferred to make his way to the multi-tiered dock on foot. He could cut through the alleys quicker than a hansom cab or any other conveyance could. While their apartment was modest, Domaroc knew they were well protected. It was one of the perks of being the Grand Chancellor’s grandson. He could see his grandfather’s mansion from his front step, after all.
The bells in the clock tower rang out, signaling the half hour. He stopped in his tracks, leaning his left side against a building. Dom hated the feeling in his middle and knew it came from trying to trick Carialis. With an hour until the Liberation took flight, he couldn’t bring himself to head for the docks. Instead, he turned to the more ornate houses of the high-born citizens. The chances of seeing his grandfather would be slim, but he still felt the need for the old man’s words.
He had been given a hero’s welcome by those same high-borns, even though he had been disgraced in the eyes of the dockworkers and other airshipmen. He hadn’t seen his grandfather but for a few minutes at one of the many balls and parties that had been held in Domaroc’s honor. The older man had tried to get Dom alone to speak with him. Before more than a cursory greeting could be exchanged between them, Madam Otterro, the party’s hostess, had leeched onto his grandfather. She had wanted to show her peers that the reclusive Grand Chancellor had chosen her party to attend. Doma
roc, despite being the guest of honor, had been of little consequence. Since that evening, there hadn’t been an opportunity for Dom to meet with his grandfather.
Dom sighed. He knew that lack of opportunity wasn’t the reason for avoiding this visit. He had seen the concern in his grandfather’s face. After weeks of recuperation, concerned doctors, and Carialis’s unwavering devotion, Dom hadn’t wanted to deal with another worried relative. He hadn’t even heard from his parents, but that was no surprise, they were at their summer home. For all he knew, they hadn’t even heard what had happened to him. His sister had called on him. However, Eudora had turned her attention to Carialis and the coming baby, leaving Domaroc with a glass of flat wine and awkward attempts at conversation with his brother-in-law.
Domaroc knew better than to attempt to enter the Grand Chancellor’s home uninvited and unannounced by the front door, instead, he went around to the kitchen entrance. It had been far too long since he had visited, and only a few of the cooks looked familiar to him. He would need to remind his grandfather to tighten security at all entrances, as he easily passed by without any obstruction.
Once he got into the main part of the house, it was a different story. New lock screens had been placed on the doors. The lock screen was one of Carialis’ modifications for airships that had been adapted for the homes of the elite class. On ships, it kept unauthorized crew from restricted areas like engine rooms or armories, but in the homes it was a nuisance that gave the privileged a sense of security and servants headaches. Somehow, Domaroc knew it had been Gregory Sothren’s idea, his grandfather’s head of security, to install them.
Dom watched as a servant fumbled for a copper card to slide over the screen. Dom smirked as a warning beep sounded and the servant tried swiping once more. The beep sounded louder and the servant gave up with a sheepish grin at Dom before returning to the kitchen. Domaroc pulled his ship’s ID from his pocket and hoped it was enough to gain access. The frosted light blinked twice and he could hear the tumblers shift, allowing him in. However, his good luck did not go much farther than a few steps as he was greeted by Gregory.