Charmed Vengeance

by Suzanne Lazear

  James’ face scrunched in disgust. “Can’t we try cargo ships? Maybe someone’s going by Raleigh? Could we simply stop someplace and ask? I just want to get there.”

  Steven studied his pocket watch then glanced back at the board. Checking cargo ships meant they’d probably miss the first airship to Atlanta. But there was another later today and one tomorrow. Never would he have pegged Chicago to Atlanta as a popular route.

  “We’ll check, but don’t get your hopes up. If nothing surfaces, we’re heading to Atlanta with no complaints.” What he wanted was for James to stop whining, which he’d been doing constantly since they’d left Los Angeles.

  “Deal. Let’s see what we can find.” James led them through the terminal until they found a smoky bar, filled with ship workers drinking and eating, even at this early hour.

  The stench of sour ale, stale food, and unwashed bodies made Steven’s nose wrinkle. This wasn’t a place where first class passengers or captains of luxury ships dined. No, this establishment catered to lower workers, cargo haulers, and aeronautical entrepreneurs—those people otherwise known as air pirates.

  Like he was perfectly comfortable with places such as this, James strode over, took a stool at the counter, and ordered coffee for both of them from a one-eyed man.

  “Coffee? I’d rather have tea.” Steven’s nose wrinkled in disgust as he slid onto the none-too-clean stool next to his brother.

  James snorted in distain. “Tea? We’re not at one of your silly social events. Really, we should be drinking beer.”

  Beer? Steven wiped the counter in front of him with his handkerchief, trying not to show his blatant repugnance at this substandard establishment. His spine prickled. There were people from the Otherworld here. He should have guessed. Many of their kind who lingered in this realm involved themselves with persons of the lowest common denominator. He and his brother would have to avoid contact so they wouldn’t be recognized. The last thing he wanted was for the queen to know where they headed.

  The one-eyed bartender plunked two chipped mugs in front of them filled with something resembling engine grease. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be on your quest?”

  Steven’s heart tumbled. Of course James would lead them into a shady bar run by one of the Fae. He wanted to smack himself in the forehead.

  James leaned forward, looked both ways, and lowered his voice. “We’re trying to get to Raleigh. Know anyone headed that way?”

  Warning bells clanged in Steven’s head. What was James doing? Did he want everyone to know their destination? Maybe it was his sorrow—usually James was more careful than this.

  “No, we’re not going to Raleigh, remember?” Steven hissed. “We’re going to … San Francisco.” It was the first city that popped into his head. “Yes, we need to get there as soon as possible—and we’re not the princes. I hear we resemble them a little. Is that true?”

  James scowled over his cup of coffee. “I’d rather go to Raleigh or Atlanta.”

  The bartender scanned the room, squinting with his good eye. “Wherever you’re going, I’m sure someone would be willing to assist you.” His one eye winked. “Even if you’re not the princes.”

  Steven’s heart skipped a beat. Had his mother been circulating images of them or did they resemble her or their father so greatly there was no question? Whatever the reason, they’d have to tread carefully, lest anyone’s help be malicious—on their mother’s orders or otherwise.

  The bartender waved at someone. A man with dark hair and a long black coat, who disconcertingly reminded him of Kevighn Silver, sauntered over. He looked cleaner than most of the bar’s current patrons but disingenuous nevertheless.

  “Yes?” He put one hand on the bar, his middle finger glinting with a black ring.

  The bartender smirked. “The boys need passage; make sure they get there in one piece.”

  The man nodded, giving them a once-over that made Steven want to squirm.

  Steven leapt to his feet, the need to flee overwhelming. He flung a coin on the counter. “Where I appreciate your kind offer, my brother and I must head out now,” he looked to James, jerking his chin toward the door. “Right?”

  “I really don’t want to peel more potatoes.” James seemed oblivious to the ominous undercurrents of their situation.

  Several other large men joined the first, all with sneers and leers plastered on their rough faces. They crowded around James and Steven, preventing their escape.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” the first man cracked his knuckles, “there won’t be any potatoes.”

  “Let us out! What do you want from us?” Steven shook the bars of the airship they’d been forced onto. There were no chairs in the cell and things of dubious origin covered the floor. The stench of the human condition surrounded him, making his eyes water.

  The dark haired man appeared on the other side of the bars. “We are helping you.” Mischievousness dripped from his voice. “You’ll be there in no time.”

  “Where?” James eyed him from his spot in the corner.

  “You’ll see soon enough.” The man winked and left.

  Steven hit his forehead against the bars in despair. “This is exactly why I wanted to avoid anyone from the Otherworld, James. Why I wanted to stick to reputable ships.” Frustration leaked into every syllable. “We only have a mortal month, who knows how much time we’ll be in here—or where they’ll leave us? They could hurt us or worse.”

  James peered through his fingers and blinked. “Do you really think they’d do that?”

  “Just look at them.” Sighing, he leaned against the bars, which looked cleaner than the wall. Desperation rooted him to the floor, making him wish it were cleaner so he could sink to it.

  “This is my fault. I’m sorry.” James put his face back in his hands.

  “I hope this ends well. Because if it doesn’t … ” Steven glared at his brother, hoping despite James’ poor choices that he’d live to see Noli again.

  Kevighn sauntered into a bar in the Chicago Air Terminal and took a seat at the bar, hoping he’d still be welcome in an establishment run by those of the Otherworld. His exile applied here to some extent, but the man running this bar played by different rules.

  How those rules applied to him he wasn’t yet sure. “Silver, it’s about damn time you blew into town.” Roderick turned around at the bar, giving Kevighn a smile that made his stomach unclench.

  He smiled back at the old one-eyed bartender. “Is it because you have work for me? I’m a little down on my luck.”

  None of the ships Red said needed gunners happened to be in this port.

  “I’ve got a message for you.” Roderick handed him a mug of ale.

  “I can’t pay for this.” He wasn’t about to cheat the likes of Roderick. Those of the dark court played for keeps.

  Roderick leaned an elbow on the bar. “You’ve done enough for me in the past that I can spare you a pint of ale. As for that message … Ciarán says you need to stop moping and go find him. He’s got work for you.”

  Kevighn took a swig of ale. “How old is the message?” His eyebrows rose. “Are you certain he wishes to see me?”

  Roderick cleaned the counter with a bit of dirty rag. “I think His Majesty misses you. He’s doing some business in this realm, and unless you went soft working for the high queen, a man with your skills could be an asset.”

  Relief swept over him. The dark court was the one place he could be welcome in the Otherworld. Where he and the king of the dark court went back a very long way, he didn’t dare make assumptions. His stint as the high queen’s huntsman hadn’t made him many friends. Tiana, and those who did her bidding, weren’t well-liked in the circles he used to run in.

  “What sort of business?” Kevighn took another long drink. Since when had Ciarán been interested in the mortal realm? Then again, an increasing number of his people were coming into this realm for diversion, business, or to escape the mess the new high queen was making. “I’l
l let the boss tell you himself.” Roderick grinned. Kevighn shook his head at his friend’s ambiguity. Roderick enjoyed being infuriating. “Where can I find him?”

  “He’s been spending a lot of time out west—especially San Francisco.” Roderick gave him a knowing smile. “Apparently there’s this opium den there … ”

  Once, San Francisco had been among Kevighn’s favorite places, home to a particular opium den. Then he’d met a beautiful, clever mortal named Magnolia and the whole world he’d carefully created to shield his heart from the pain he’d felt at losing his sister Creideamh had tumbled down like a building during an earthquake.

  Could he bear returning to San Fran? Then again, what choice did he have? He couldn’t keep wandering around the United States getting kicked out of air terminal bars and opium dens. Kevighn polished off his ale.

  “Have you heard about the museum robberies?” Roderick added. “They’re not stealing paintings, but odd things.” He gave Kevighn a meaningful look.

  Odd things. Kevighn knew Roderick was trying to tell him something but he was in no mood for riddles so he simply nodded and pushed his mug forward.

  “Oh,” Roderick’s eye lit up with delight as he refilled Kevighn’s mug. “Have you heard? The high queen’s sons are questing.”

  “Her Majesty’s sons? Was a girl with them?” Questing?

  Interesting. Was she trying to get rid of them?

  “No girl. Her Majesty has made it clear that we’re to be as helpful as possible.” Roderick rubbed his hands together with glee.

  “I hope by helpful you mean dropping them off the side of the airship.” He had no love or sympathy for either spoiled prince. Especially Stiofán. If they were questing, where was Magnolia? Odds were they’d left her safe in Los Angeles with her mother.

  Hmm. Perhaps he should visit her.

  Roderick grinned so wide it practically spilled off his face. “The queen made it clear that she didn’t want them to be … coddled, and well, she understands that … mishaps happen.”

  She was trying to get rid of them. Clever. That news made happiness bubble inside him. The Otherworld would be better off with less earth court brats.

  “Well, I wouldn’t want them to struggle.” Kevighn grinned back.

  “You just missed them. But don’t worry, they’re with Igan and his crew. They’ll take good care of them.” Roderick’s one eye winked.

  “You let them go with Igan?” Kevighn nearly snorted ale out his nose. “They’ll probably leave them in someplace desolate, naked, and free of everything they brought with them.”

  “Wouldn’t you?” Roderick laughed.

  “Of course. Nothing’s too good for the young princes.” He’d leave them in a lion pit wearing only a necklace made of meat.

  Roderick leaned in further and lowered his voice. “I know their whereabouts if you’re interested in helping…

  Not today, old friend. I don’t suppose you know anyone going west?”

  Roderick surveyed the bar, eyes narrowing. He nodded and snapped his fingers. “I can get you as far as Denver.

  I would appreciate that.” The idea of the dark king wanting to see him was pleasing. Still, he wasn’t quite ready to abandon his sulking. Maybe he’d see if he could find any of the ships Red told him needed employees and see where the wind—and the Bright Lady—took him. If it took him to Ciarán, that would be good.

  If it took him to Magnolia that would be even better.

  Eight

  The Lives and Times of Air Pirates

  Noli crept toward the bridge, list in hand, and popped her head through the doorway. “Captain?”

  Vix turned around in her chair and scowled. “No, you may not disembark in Santa Fe. We’re only stopping briefly and there’s no time to buy hair ribbons or other fripperies. Also, I meant it when I said you may only leave the ship when you’re either with Jeff or I— and we’re going to be busy.”

  Hair ribbons? Why did wearing dresses make Vix think she was a vapid doll?

  Wait, I want some ribbons, the sprite interjected. Pink ones with flowers on them.

  “Um, I only wanted to give you the inventory and supply list you requested.” Ignoring the sprite, Noli thrust out the piece of paper is if it were a shield between them.

  “Oh, thank you.” Vix took the list from her.

  Noli took a moment to admire the panoramic view from the small bridge, gazing at the blue sky and the white clouds. “It’s so pretty up here.”

  Jeff nodded from his place at the helm. “That it is. Is there anything you need? I can’t guarantee I’ll have time, but I’ll try.” His eyes fell to her waist cincher tool-belt. “Oh, now that’s a good idea. I can see a few people wanting one of those.”

  She smoothed the brown leather. “It’s useful. My friend made it. Mama hates it.” A pang of sadness shot through her. No. Her mother was better off in Boston without her. Noli thought for a moment. “I forgot my toothbrush. Also, I’d like a plant, if you please—a little one is fine.”

  “A plant?” Vix scoffed as she tucked away the list. She eyed Noli’s tool-belt. “I can see Hittie and Hattie wanting matching ones.”

  More female air pirates? She met Vix’s eyes not about to be made to feel embarrassed for her request. “I miss being around plants and trees.”

  “Perhaps Noli could design a shipboard garden, like the one they have on the Vertragus?” Jeff suggested. “It would be nice to have fresh food.”

  Vix tilted her head, a lock of blue hair nearly covering her eyes. “Perhaps. Conditions up top can be tempestuous; it would need to be sturdy.”

  “I can design something along the lines of a green house … ” Noli could almost see the structure in her mind—light, durable, and making good use of space.

  Jeff grinned. “I know you’ll come up with something, you’re an ace engineer.”

  “We’re headed toward Denver, right, Captain?” Noli rocked on the heels of her boots.

  Vix sighed, running her hand through her hair as if trying to tear it out. “Yes, and if we have time you may be able to get off ship, but don’t count on it.”

  Noli bit back a pert retort. Always with the assumptions. “Actually, I need to spend some quality time with the engines and do a complete diagnostic, which means the engines will be out of commission for at least a day, possibly two.”

  “What’s wrong with the engines?” Vix frowned, one hand on her hip as if she were unsure if Noli were fabricating this or not.

  “I … I’m not sure. Something feels—and sounds— off.” Noli clasped her hands behind her back and tried not to fidget, since her explanation sounded rather ridiculous. Winky kept assuring her nothing was the matter. “I want to head off any problems at the pass. Also, depending on what it is, I may need parts—or have to make parts, so it might be beneficial to be in a place where at least I have access to items I can re-engineer or repurpose.”

  “We don’t have time for you to muck around with the engine simply because,” Vix huffed from her captain’s chair. “Is there a problem or not?”

  “That is why I need to run the diagnostics, Captain,” she returned. “In order to accomplish that I need to take the engines apart.”

  “What are your suspicions?” Jeff asked as he steered the ship.

  “Engines in raven-class ships are notorious for overheating. I’ll start there. It could be as simple as a motor being out on the multi-fan cooling system.”

  “That’s easy enough to fix, right?” Vix’s look dared her to say anything but yes.

  “Of course it is, Captain.” That was an easy fix. In all honestly, Noli didn’t think that was the problem. But she had to tell them something other than it felt wrong.

  Vix waved her hand in dismissal. “I’m sure you have something to do. As you were.”

  “Yes, Captain.” Noli returned to her quarters. Now that she’d attended to all her assigned tasks, perhaps she’d finally have time to make her little room more comfortable, and darn a sm
all mountain of socks.

  Yes, darning socks was infinitely better than cleaning the head.

  Noli attached a wooden box to the door of her little room. There were two boxes, one said in and the other out.

  “Might I be of assistance, Miss Noli?” Winky appeared with a crate under his arm, hat askew, glasses halfway down his nose.

  “I’m almost finished, though I appreciate the offer. These are sewing boxes. The in box, the one on top is for things you need me to fix, the out box is for things I’ve finished. That way no one needs bring their mending to supper.” Noli grinned at Winky as she tightened the last screw holding the box to the door. At supper last night the captain had not been amused when Thad brought a bag of socks to the table.

  Winky nodded and held up the crate. “Smart idea, Miss Noli. I found a few things on the ship that might be of use to you.”

  “You did?” She tucked the screwdriver into the loop on her tool belt and peered into the crate which seemed to hold a mound of burgundy fabric.

  “These were left by one of the previous occupants. Yer a bit more… refined, but I thought you might appreciate them.”

  Noli took the offered crate. “That’s very nice of you to think of me.”

  Winky blushed to the roots of his white hair. “Just trying to make this place feel a little more like home. It’s probably not what yer used to.”

  No it wasn’t. “I’m getting adjusted.”

  “The previous owner used the fabric as curtains. I thought you could drape it around the walls to make it look … fancy.” He blushed again.

  “What exactly did the previous owner do?” Noli’s lips pursed, trying to think of why someone might need curtains on an airship.

  Winky looked at the ground and stammered, “Why this was before Captain Vix took the helm, but this ship has held a soiled dove or two in its time.”

  Soiled dove? Winky turned so red that Noli was afraid if she asked him what it meant he might explode. Besides, she had a good idea what a soiled dove could be.

  “I’ll help you … If you’d like” Winky added.

  Noli could already imagine how much nicer the room would look with the fabric on the walls. Decorating also made the sprite happy. “Why, Mr. Winky, that sounds like an excellent idea. Let’s get started, shall we?”