“You-you’re not,” she said, her voice shaking. “It’s still in you.”
Kane shook his head.
“No. That was all me.” He looked back down at Richard’s corpse. “I wasn’t about to let him hurt you again.” He looked back up in Tabitha’s direction a split second before she slammed into him, her arms wrapped around him in a fierce hug. He held her back, felt her warmth against him. He pushed her gently away, made his way across the cargo hold to one of the broken bodies that had once been Special Forces troops. He knelt down and pried the blunderbuss from the man’s dead fingers, checked it for ammo. It was still locked and loaded. He relieved the corpse of its ammo pouch and looked up at Tabitha as she approached him.
“Now what?” she asked.
The wheel on the door at the far end of the bay turned, the gears pulling levers to the open position. Kane spun, his blunderbuss aimed.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The kid that entered was maybe Wilson’s age, meek-looking with large horn-rimmed glasses on his face that comically magnified the size of his eyeballs. He was tall, lanky, wore a brown leather airman’s long coat, and carried a clipboard in his hands, his bug-eyes focused on it as he walked through the door.
Kane peered out from behind one of the crates, eyed the kid cautiously. He’d pulled Tabitha into hiding the moment the door had begun to open.
The kid stopped and looked up from his notes, his jaw dropping open at the sight of the smashed crates and spilled goods in the room. He looked down and saw the three Special Forces bodies on the floor, his large eyes growing larger when he found Richard laying in a heap with a knife sticking out of his skull.
Damn it, Kane thought, gritting his teeth. He’s about to run.
Kane stepped out, the blunderbuss aimed as he called to the kid.
“Hold it right there, junior.”
The kid looked up at him, let the clipboard clatter to the deck.
“You…you killed them?”
Kane kept the blunderbuss aimed as Tabitha moved up next to him.
“Kane, calm down!” She shook her head as she nodded to Glasses. “Kane’s just a big teddy bear…well, more like a grizzly. With a mean streak.” She sighed, shrugging. “Yeah, you’re gonna die if you don’t listen to him.”
“Close the door, four-eyes,” Kane said, motioning at the kid with the gun. “Make any noise and I promise you this puppy can drown you out.”
The kid turned, closed the door, and turned the crank to lock it. He turned back to Kane, his hands up.
“I swear I don’t know anything about the cargo,” he said, his lip trembling. “Take whatever you want. Just let me go.”
“I don’t want to steal anything,” Kane said. “Just want a ride back to New Chicago, is all.”
“New Chicago?” The kid’s eyes widened even more. “Wait, you two match the description! The two Magicians they’re looking for!” He pressed his back against the wall. “Oh God, please don’t turn me into anything unnatural!”
Tabitha and Kane looked at each other, their eyebrows raised, then back at the kid. Kane took a step toward Glasses, lowering the blunderbuss.
“What’s your name, kid?”
“Carlton,” Glasses said, quickly. “Davey Carlton. First Mate under Captain Bill.”
“Bill?” Kane stepped closer. Carlton whimpered, shielding himself. Kane ignored it. “You mean from the Atlantic Dream?”
“Yes…yessir,” Carlton said. “That was his old ship.”
“Kane, isn’t he your friend?” Tabitha asked from behind.
Kane nodded.
“I’m Kane Shepherd, Carlton,” he said. “This is Tabitha Drake. We’re friends.”
Carlton glanced around the carnage in the cargo bay, looking as if he doubted Kane’s sincerity. Kane couldn’t blame him.
“Just take me to Captain Bill.”
* * *
“I suppose I owe you thanks for ridding me of those Special Forces bastards, Good Sir.” Bill poured two glasses of whiskey, offering them Kane and Tabitha.
Bill was older, his gray goatee accentuated by a large handlebar mustache. It brought out the crow’s feet around his eyes. He was a head shorter than Kane, but years in the skies had made him physically fit. Bill had at least thirty years of airship service under him and had served in the Union Air Battalion before retiring to the life of a commercial captain. He’d met Kane during a transport run to the South years ago, and the two had gotten along famously during the five or six runs they’d made together.
At the time, Bill hadn’t known about Kane’s abilities.
“I guess the secret is out,” Bill said, turning away to stare out the window of his cabin. The room wasn’t much different from any other Captain’s Cabin Kane had been in. A cot in the corner, a large oak desk bolted to the floor. Bill had a taste for quality liquor, however, and had built an impressive wet bar in his book shelves, the rest of the shelves littered with maps and charts. “You could have told me years ago that you were a Magician, Kane.”
“I was young,” Kane said. “Didn’t know I could trust anyone.”
Bill nodded.
“So you’re the captain of the Atlantic Dream?” Tabitha asked.
“I was,” the old man said, looking over his shoulder. “At least until the Mermaid incident. Lost my taste for the business of public transport when my ship got boarded by the entirety of the NCPD.” He turned, chuckling as he shook his head. “The Special Forces, now there’s a bunch. I think I’d rather fly with Lt. Danwood.”
“We need a ride back to New Chicago, Captain,” Kane said. “Hidden Valley is in trouble.”
“Oh, I fear that’s old news, my boy,” said Bill as he went to his desk. He opened a drawer, pulled out a newspaper, and dropped it on the desk. Kane unrolled it and read the headline.
Hidden Valley Raided! Squatters Arrested for Illegal Occupancy in Multiple Homes! Residents Questioned on whereabouts of Fugitive Magicians!
“Christ,” Kane said. “Bastard didn’t waste any time, did he?”
“You mean Danwood?” Bill shook his head. “No, he followed orders with pleasure on this one. And his orders came from the top.”
“Gentry?”
Bill shook his head again.
“Frostmeyer. The President.”
“Those poor people,” Tabitha said.
“When was there an election?” Kane asked. “I thought the primaries didn’t start until next year.”
“That’s just it,” said Bill. “There wasn’t an election. Not a public one, at least. After the incident at the shipyard, they held a special, in-house emergency election. Frostmeyer was given the Presidency with an agenda to combat the Revolution. President Post was impeached and ousted in a matter of days. I’ve never seen the process go so quickly.”
“Any chance Post has answers as to what the hell happened?”
“I’m afraid he’s only answering to God, now.” Bill sighed. “They found his body, or what was left of it, in the train yards.”
“How soon will we arrive in New Chicago?” Kane asked.
“A couple of days. We’ve had to log the emergency take-off from the attack at the Haven.”
“That was our friends,” Tabitha said. “Farnsworth wasn’t attacking you, he was attacking the Special Forces.”
“Aye, my dear,” Bill said, nodding to her. “Of that I was acutely aware. I watched his aim. I tried to flee before any of them could make it back on board.”
“If you show up without them, that might cause problems,” Kane said. “We need to figure something out.”
“Leave that to me,” Bill said. “You two can stow away, but I have to ask you to leave my vessel and not look back once we land in new Chicago. I’m sorry, Kane. It’s not personal. But I have to take care of my men.”
Kane eyed Bill as the old man stood tall again. Bill motioned toward the door.
“My crew did not ask to become part of the Revolution, and neither did I.”
/> “The Revolution is over,” Kane said. “They were wiped out.”
Bill nodded somberly as he came around from behind the desk. He opened the door to the cabin and eyed Kane expectantly.
“See Mr. Carlton. He’ll find you quarter.”
* * *
Bill had already had some of the crewmen clear the bodies from the cargo area. The bodies were burned in the furnaces. Kane personally loaded Richard into the coal furnace.
It was personal satisfaction. Watching the Shadow Wraith burn to ash gave him closure.
And it was something he could take away from Gentry for a change.
A couple of hammocks were set up in the bay, and the door was left unlocked for Kane and Tabitha to leave and use the facilities if need be. Food would be brought to them.
Kane lay back in his hammock, watching the stars go by in the small port window. They were scheduled to make dock in New Chicago the next evening. The weeks in the South had worn on him. His body ached, his muscles tired.
He couldn’t sleep. He was too busy being sick of himself.
He’d been right all along. A Revolution against the Oligarchy was suicide. Regina Anderson had been organized, calculating, and they’d still failed. Everyone was dead now. He felt the guilt of her death, of Farnsworth, Wilson, and Benson’s sacrifice. Their blood was on his hands. If he hadn’t taken on the murder case in New Chicago in the first place…
Sarah Broussard would still have found him. Might even have killed him.
Then what?
The Revolution would’ve gone on without him. It was an inevitability. Oppress a people long enough, and they fight back. Even if it means their annihilation.
Kane heard the footsteps on the metal floor only seconds before his hammock swung, almost upturning as Tabitha climbed in. Kane put his arms up too late as her elbow caught his chest, her knee smacking him in the groin as she rolled in while she chattered.
“Geez, Kane, move. Scootch! Oops, sorry! Hey, you’re warm! Why is it so cold on these airships?”
He moved slightly to get the hammock back on center, and she lay on her side next to him her head rested on his chest. He put his arm around her. He didn’t have the energy to argue with her. If she wanted to sleep there, fine. He wasn’t complaining, anyway.
Besides, she was right: the cargo hold was chilly.
“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” Tabitha asked.
“Nope,” Kane said, sighing. “Can’t sleep. Usually.”
“You sleep like a ton of bricks when you do, though,” Tabitha said. She giggled. “Last time we slept in the same bed, I poked you to see if you were still alive.”
Kane grunted. His eyes were starting to get heavy as her body warmed his under the blanket.
“What do you think we’ll find when we get back?” she asked. “At Hidden Valley, I mean?”
“I don’t know,” Kane said. “That everyone’s okay, I hope.”
She looked up at him.
“What are we going to do, Kane? We can’t be seen.”
“As far as we know, they think we’re dead,” Kane said. “We play that card hard. Lay low.”
She lay there quiet as Kane looked back out the window, back to the passing night sky. He’d avoided conflict long enough. It’d caught up to him. The Revolution had been real. Now it was a memory. So many lives lost.
So many more at the mercy of The Oligarchs. Of the police.
Of Frostmeyer.
“Do we stand a chance?” Tabitha sat up enough to roll onto her front, climbing up on top of Kane. He slid back center, underneath her, the hammock swaying slightly as she stared into his eyes. “What happens if we go back and it’s a war zone?”
“Then it’s a war zone,” Kane said. “They can’t fight back against the police. The Special Forces. Not alone. But I don’t think it’ll be like that. They’d raise too many eyebrows in the city if they started killing civilians.”
Tabitha leaned down, her hair falling forward as her lips brushed Kane’s, her eyes closed as she whispered.
“Do you love me?”
Kane breathed in her scent, his body longing. He reached up and gently moved her hair back with his hands. His mind seized, the memories of what happened to his parents, to Sarah, what he’d done to Tabitha as the Wendigo spinning around. It all grew faint, seeming to back away from her as she kissed his lips gently, moved her body against his.
He’d killed a man for her. No magic. No fire. Richard had threatened her. It’d made sense at the time. He’d have done it a thousand times.
She pulled away slightly, opening her eyes and staring down into his.
Kane stared back.
“Yes.”
* * *
Kane didn’t remember when they’d fallen asleep, collapsed and exhausted, wrapped in each other’s arms. Tabitha slept soundly, her head rested on his bare chest. He looked out the window, sat the clouds passing, the sky purple from the sunrise.
Or sunset.
Pocket watch. Where was it?
Pants. Damn. They were on the floor somewhere.
He moved to get up. Tabitha stirred, mumbling in her sleep.
“No. Still sleeping.”
Kane slid out from underneath her, carefully climbing out of the hammock to keep from swinging it too much. The metal floor was cold against his feet. He found his pants, picked them up, and checked his pocket watch.
Eight o’clock. Had to be in the evening. The sun was normally up by eight in the morning. Kane moved to the window and looked out, seeing the skyscrapers in the short distance. He could make out City Hall, some of the banks, even the tower with the Mermaid.
New Chicago.
Carlton’s voice called over the com.
“All hands make preparations. Thirty minutes to landing site. Cargo hold is secure.”
Kane looked down, realized that he might want to avoid giving the crew a bit of a surprise if they decided to check in on them.
He put his clothes on and stared at the window as the ship passed low over Hidden Valley. He saw the scorched, hollowed out building that had once been his office and apartment, saw the rooftop of Ralphie’s place, and Antonia Boudreaux’s house. He even saw Jones’s place.
“Hey, Jonsey,” Kane said as the office passed slowly underneath them.
Tabitha sat up in the hammock, covering herself with the blanket. Her hair was disheveled, her face slightly flushed. She grinned at Kane.
“Home? We’re back already?”
“I think we slept through the day.” He looked at her sidelong. “Well, I tried to a few times at least.”
She scrunched her nose at him.
“I’m energetic. What can I say?”
Kane rolled his eyes, smiling as he looked back out the window. A police patrol ship lumbered by. Kane stepped out of view, waited until the ship’s shadow passed before he looked back out the window.
“Better get dressed,” he said. “We’re landing soon.”
The speaker com sprang to life again, this time shouting Captain Bill’s voice.
“All crewmen be advised: Special Forces escort en route. Let’s make sure they see a clean ship, boys.”
Kane pressed his back against the wall, turning his head and peering out the window. One of the Special Forces gunner ships moved up beside the transport, her searchlights moving over the hull as Hidden Valley passed away below, one of the many shipyards coming up. The ship turned lazily to the left.
“Please be advised of landing at the Lincoln Shipyard,” Carlton’s voice said over the com. “Pad B. ETA twenty minutes. Special Forces request inspection of cargo hold.”
Kane looked at Tabitha.
“Shit. Get dressed. Now.”
Tabitha got out of the hammock and quickly gathered her clothing, any sense of modesty a thing of the past. Kane got his boots on, then pulled down the hammocks and folded them up, stashing them away in the waste chute as Tabitha finished dressing and grabbed the bag with the Grimoires inside.
“Likely got word about the attack in Georgia,” Kane said as he put his hat on. He looked at the door as the wheel and levers creaked, unlocked, the door opening. Carlton stepped in, looking at them both.
“I don’t have to ask if you heard the announcement,” he said. “Come on up to the bridge. The Captain wants to see you.”
* * *
“Not to worry, Good Sir,” Bill said to Kane as he stepped into the main control room. “The windows are mirrored from her days as an Oligarch touring ship. They’ll not see inside here.”
Kane nodded, looking out the window as the Special Forces gunners on either side drifted along, each keeping pace with the airship. He nodded to Bill.
“What’s going on?”
“They want to steer us to an alternate shipyard,” Bill said. “Board us. There’s been trouble, apparently.”
Tabitha looked at Kane, her eyes wide. He raised an eyebrow. She nodded.
Kane went to Carlton, who was at the navigation desk near the periscope.
“What’s our new route?”
“Looks like Port Wainwright,” the kid said, not looking up from his chart as he plucked a compass from the shelf and walked it across the map before stopping the sharp point on the coordinates. He turned the compass, the pencil drawing a perfect circle around the new landing point. “We’re roughly four miles away.”
Tabitha’s warning came back to Kane’s mind. A shipyard. She’d said there was something bad at a shipyard. It all felt off. Why were the Special Forces trying to keep the transport from reaching Lincoln?
“How far away from Lincoln? The original yard?”
Carlton pulled out his ruler and took the measurement.
“Maybe five miles,” he said. He looked up at Bill. “Captain, please turn three clicks port.”
“Belay,” Kane said quickly, moving to Bill. “We can’t go there yet.”
Bill looked at Kane as if he’d lost his mind.
“Mr. Shepherd, I assure you we don’t have a choice in this matter.”
Gaslit Armageddon (Clockworks of War Book 2) Page 30