“Yes. Let me fix it. Why don’t you see how many bullets you can pull out of the hull and repair what you need to. Hopefully the women will return soon—with the tail.” They’d have to find some way to get the women out of eye-shot so that they could repair the tail, which would be a similar process.
Steven returned to his side of the hull and carefully, artfully, made his perfect work look marred—like James, but more deliberate. He’d just finished when he heard the sound of female voices and something being dragged.
His heart leapt. If they could get up in the air soon they might still be able to arrive in San Francisco around the same time the Vixen’s Revenge did—and get Rahel.
“Need some help?” he called, running to join them, James on his heels.
“Titties on a fish, it’s cold out here,” Hittie called back, breath coming out frozen.
They joined the women and took the heavy tail section from them and dragged it back to the ship. The battered tail piece was worse for wear, part of it broken, but better than nothing.
“You two did this?” Hittie stared at the hull in disbelief, jaw hanging open as if she didn’t quite understand what she looked at.
“You have to admit, they did an ace job.” Hattie flashed James a comely look.
James gave her a large grin. “We do what we can. You have to admit, it is cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey out here.”
Steven scowled at his brother’s vulgar language.
He ignored him. “I know being women doesn’t mean you automatically know how to cook—but we can’t cook at all. Steven burns water. Anyway, maybe you could make us all some coffee and we’ll get this fixed so we can get back up in the sky?”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” Hittie stamped and blew on her hands. She turned to her sister. “Coming, Hattie?”
Hattie shot James another long look, this one through veiled lashes. “Are you sure we can’t be of assistance?”
“We’re fine—something warm to drink would be the best help of all,” James replied.
The way James said that sounded almost … naughty and Steven looked away.
“Suit yourself, we’ll return.” With a final wistful look, Hattie followed Hittie into the little ship.
Well, that was elegant. Certainly he’d never get away with saying anything like that. Hittie would probably smack him. Hard. With a loaded pistol.
“Help me?” Steven asked his brother. “This is a two man job. One to hold, one to fix.”
“I’ll hold,” James volunteered.
“Good.”
James held the tail and Steven worked to fuse it to the back of the ship. This proved much harder and the end result wasn’t nearly as neat as his repairs—but again, the imperfections were probably for the better. Being sound mattered more than appearance anyhow.
Above him an automobile engine sputtered.
Hittie and Hattie ran out of the ship, pistols drawn as the shadow of a flying car, a Dragon model by the looks of it, flew over them. Unlike Noli’s bat-winged, bugged-eyed Pixy, this flying car looked more the beast. Giant leather wings, twice the size of the Pixy’s and shaped like dragon wings, flapped. The loud sound sliced through the cold and quiet air. The car was an odd shade of green; the shape of the hood reminiscent of a dragon’s head, complete with large headlamps for eyes.
“Do we signal them for help?” James hissed.
“We don’t know if they’re friend or foe,” Hattie warned, pistol still drawn.
Something felt wrong. Deseret was large, the sparse population clustered, leaving vast stretches of open land. They’d taken care to avoid civilization.
The rat-tat-tat of a gatling gun had everyone ducking behind the ship for cover.
“Hells bells,” Hattie hissed, firing her pistol at the Dragon.
“That’s not a patrol ship—no one, not the MoBatts, not the air patrol, not the military uses flying cars as attack vehicles.” Hattie fired again, using the tale of the ship as a blind.
James ducked behind the ship as the flying car buzzed them, sending out another spew of metal bullets as they clanked against rocks, dirt, and the hull of the ship they’d just repaired.
“I say, you’d think they’re trying to kill us,” James hissed.
Gulping, Steven looked up at the three leering men in the Dragon careening through the sky like a drunken wood faery. The men all reminded him of Igan—ruffians who liked hassling others for sport.
“I can’t tell from here, but they could be,” he muttered to his brother as the sisters continued to fire at the Dragon.
“Wait, what are you talking about?” James paled.
“I think we’ve got ourselves more helpers, what did you think they were?” Steven winced as another stream of bullets flew past. At this moment he didn’t dare use magic. Not yet.
“Come out, come out where ever you are,” one of the men called.
James’ eyes widened. “Flying figs, you mean they actually want to kill us? But outright killing us is against quest rules.”
“Since when has she ever played by the rules?” The words tasted bitter in his mouth.
“Why aren’t you leaving?” Hattie cried, firing more. “Oh hells bells, I’m out.” Her empty pistol made clicking noises.
“Dance for us,” one man leered.
“Could we go back inside and take off?” Steven called to the ladies. An airship was faster than a flying car…right?
“I think we should try to get back onto the ship, if at least to use our gatling gun,” Hittie called back.
James huddled next to him. “I think we need to use magic to crash it,” he whispered. “Do you know a spell to make the engine seize?”
“Why would I know that?” It was difficult not to roll his eyes in annoyance.
“Um, because you always help Noli.”
“I never used magic to help her fix things, not even once.” He was quite proud of that—learning to blend in seamlessly with the mortals and not use his magic unless it was part of his lessons or at his father or Quinn’s direction.
James made a face of disgust. “There’s no time to be a fussy old bodger. We need to do something. Are you going to do it or am I?”
“I’ll do it,” Steven huffed as the spray of bullets crept closer. Of all the idiotic things. Then again, what choice did they have? Not that he knew what to do.
Closing his eyes, he muttered a few choice words under his breath. Magic tingled up his hand as he felt the air around him charge making the hairs on his arms stand on end.
Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes, releasing the pent-up pure magic at the flying car. The invisible bolt of magical energy zipped through the air, searing the Dragon in half as easily as he might cut a loaf of bread. Screams from the vehicle bounced off the rocks as the front half and the back half fell from the ground in different directions.
“Let’s get out of here,” Steven called as the Dragon crashed, the screams and curses of the men curdling the air, which still prickled with lingering magic.
Hattie stood there, frozen, mouth handing open.
“Good one, Captain Subtle,” James hissed.
He hadn’t known what else to do.
“You’re right.” Hittie gritted her jaw. “Come on, Hattie, let’s get out of here.” She looked back at the wreckage and shook her head. “I don’t want to be here when they get to us.”
If they lived.
Fear gripped him, rooting him to the spot. He could have killed those men. But they had been trying to kill him. Also, hopefully they were Fae and not human.
Either way, he couldn’t let them hurt Hittie and Hattie.
“Think later.” James shoved him toward the airship.
They got inside. Hittie fired up the engines and Hattie took off into the sky, leaving their assailants behind.
“What happened back there?” Hattie’s voice went soft, eyes on the currently empty sky.
Steven’s heart sank as he crowde
d onto the tiny bridge. How did he explain what he did? “Deseret has pockets of aether. Aether has been known to do strange things.”
Yes, that worked. Aether caused all sorts of problems from disappearances to spurring war and creativity. What the mortals called aether was actually magic leaking from the Otherworld.
“I … I suppose so.” Hattie looked pale, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles went white.
“Whatever it was, I’m glad we’re out of there,” Hittie replied. “I hope the ship holds.”
“Me, too,” Steven replied.
“They were after you?” Hittie’s eyebrows rose as she looked him up and down as if trying to figure out who would want to kill him—and why.
Steven gulped. “I think they were.”
“Who’d want to kill you?” Hattie’s hands relaxed a little.
“Well, it’s either our mother or our uncle,” James replied, chipper as usual.
Hittie nodded in some gesture halfway between approval and acceptance. “Some family. Now, let’s see if we can make our way to San Fran without any more problems.”
Their lack of probing questions felt like a weight lifting from his shoulders.
Steven smiled. “Yes, that’s an excellent idea.”
Fifteen
Taking Chances
As far as Kevighn knew they were out of Deseret, but he wasn’t sure. That made the bridge of the Vixen’s Revenge no less tense as they sped toward their destination. He manned the front guns, Asa and Thad were taking turns operating the back guns, which were up top. In the distance, the sun threatened to consider rising.
“I have a feeling they’ve got Hayden’s Follies. It’s been hours since we’ve seen them.” Jeff’s voice went quiet, eyes on the currently empty horizon while he steered the ship.
Captain Vix’s lips pressed together until they went white. She bowed her head and closed her eyes as if praying to whomever mortal air pirates worshiped.
“Should we look for them?” Kevighn asked from his gunner’s post.
“No,” the captain replied. “We can’t risk it. But if they don’t appear in San Fran soon after we do, we’ll send out a search.”
Jeff gave Captain Vix a long look. “Hittie and Hattie are the most resilient people we know, they’ll be fine.”
Someone stirred in the doorway. “Are we out of Deseret yet?”
Magnolia leaned against the door frame. The last time he’d seen her in that green and brown dress had been back in the Otherworld, when she’d told him she’d chosen that whelp of a prince over him. This time her hair was bound, not as free and wild as he remembered. Grease streaked her pale cheek and she held a wrench in her hand.
Though no longer mortal, she was still his Magnolia.
“Noli, you should be below,” Vix scolded from her captain’s chair.
“The girls are asleep, and I was feeling trapped. I’ll go below again in a moment. I just—”
“It’s quiet right now, Captain,” Jeff reassured, surveying the horizon again with his eyes.
Kevighn tried to think of a reason to keep her up here, even for a few moments. “Would you like to learn how to gun? There’s no one around, it might prove helpful one day,” he added when Vix and Jeff frowned.
“I was always taught that you had to learn how to call first,” Vix replied. “Usually someone calls the targets and then the front gunner knows where to aim,” she explained. “You use the numbers of a clock. If something is at 2 o’clock, he would fire there.” Her hand gestured toward the panoramic window.
“What about if it’s behind us?” Magnolia replied.
“That’s what back gunners are for,” Jeff told her. “Noli, if you want to help you could make us all some coffee. You’re getting pretty good at it.” He smiled. “Then, I suppose I can teach you to call targets if you truly are interested in learning.”
“Coffee?” Her nose scrunched up in one of her cute faces. “I suppose I could do that.” She disappeared.
Kevighn caught Jeff following her with a concerned look.
“Is she all right?” he said softly to Jeff, remembering his very odd encounter with the other Magnolia. Did they know? Probably not.
“My sister is none of your concern, Mr. Silver,” Jeff snapped, eyes flashing. “I’m unsure exactly what your relationship is with—”
Kevighn held up a hand, hoping to stave off any conflict. “The last thing I’d ever do is hurt her. I promise. She told me all about you.”
His eyes narrowed. “Did she?”
“She did–which is why I sought you out over anyone else when I needed a job. Magnolia is one of the most honorable people I know, and she idolizes you.” He might as well tell him the truth. “I didn’t know she was here, honest. I figured she was with your mother.”
Jeff shot him a look that rivaled the high queen’s angry face. “If I ever find out differently … ”
“Of course.” Kevighn understood where Jeff was coming from. “I had a sister once, too, you know.” He looked away. One day he would find that earth court bastard and make him pay.
Kevighn walked into the galley and Magnolia handed him a cup of coffee.
“I appreciate it.” He took the steaming mug from her. She’d already brought Vix and Jeff cups and he wanted to escape their scrutiny.
“Who hurt Creideamh? You never told me.” Magnolia took a sip of her own coffee as she leaned against the wooden table.
“Just an earth court prat,” he brushed off, not quite ready to say his name out loud. To remember.
Steel eyes gazed up at him as her hands wrapped around the mug like she wished to steal its warmth. “It wasn’t V’s father, right?”
“No. It’s complicated, but it wasn’t him.” Though, they, too, had a score to settle.
She sipped her coffee, cup clutched with both hands. “Will you kill him one day?”
The Otherworldly bloodthirstiness in her voice made him warm with happiness. Yes, she could easily fit into his world—even if he joined the dark court. In fact, Ciarán was probably the one person who could help her with her little sprite problem.
“One day.” He couldn’t help but smile at the sweet thought of revenge.
“Jeff,” Vix yelped from the bridge. “Are those air patrol cannon ships? Starboard side?”
“I think so,” Jeff replied after a long silence. “Our decoy is nowhere in sight, we should presume we’re on our own.”
Kevighn’s insides froze. Just because they were out of Deseret didn’t mean they were out of danger. Cannon ships were the fear of all air pirates. A few well-placed cannon balls could sink this ship in seconds and no one onboard could do anything about it.
Well, magic could, in theory.
“Should we try to outrun them?” Jeff added.
“What else can we do? Noli, go down below. Now,” Vix ordered. “I need you on the engines. Kevighn, get back in here.”
If they were hit by a cannon ball they were finished. His eyes fixated on Magnolia as she downed her coffee, grimacing the entire time.
“Captain, should I go up top, relieve Asa, and send him down to gun?” Kevighn didn’t want to shoot at ships in the cold with a gatling gun, but a half-baked plan formed in his mind.
“Make it quick,” she yelled from the bridge.
He put his mug in the sink, then jogged to intercept Magnolia who headed toward the engine rooms.
“Do you have earth magic?” he whispered, praying to the Bright Lady she did.
Magnolia’s eyes widened and she looked around, face growing frantic.
“Cannon ships are a death sentence—especially since we can’t go very fast,” he hissed. “If you can control metal, you can save us all.”
Gulping, she looked at her boots. “I’m not good at it. I couldn’t even get the engine to tell me her secrets.”
“This is less complex. I need you to come up top and deflect cannon balls. I’ll defend you with the gatling gun so you may work.” Impatience
stirred within him—they had to move. Now.
“I … ” She shook her head and swallowed hard. “Let me ask Winky to watch the engines and I’ll be right up.”
“Hurry,” he hissed.
When he emerged up top, the biting cold sliced through his shirt, chilling him to the bone. It was too late to get a coat. He’d have to make due.
Holding onto the icy rails, Kevighn made his way to Asa. “Asa, I’ll take over—you go man the front guns.”
With a grateful nod, the large man undid the belt and rope anchoring him to the ship and unceremoniously gestured to the large gun mounted on a tripod and affixed to the stern. “Thanks.”
Asa disappeared into the ship without another word. Kevighn spied Winky up in the crow’s nest with a spyglass. Pink and orange tinged the sky.
“Winky!” Kevighn cupped his hands hoping his voice carried. “Noli needs your help with the engines.”
Winky scrambled down the pole with surprising agility for a little old man. Straightening his striped hat, he peered at Kevighn through his spectacles. “Did you say Noli needs help?”
Kevighn nodded. “Down below. She’s looking for you.”
“Of course.” He scurried below, leaving Kevighn alone.
The cannon ships loomed in the distance, air patrol flags flying high. These were simple brown military vessels, not much more than a tiny cabin with cannons on all sides hanging from a singular hydrogen-filled balloon.
They were meant for two things—chasing ships and shooting them down. Soon they’d be in firing range. Kevighn blew on his gloveless fingers to warm them, praying she came up soon.
Magnolia emerged wearing a fancy cape, a bonnet, and kidskin gloves with little pearls. Her fine clothing looked out of place but it probably was warm.
“I don’t know what to do.” Her gaze fixated on the two cannon ships in the distance on the starboard side.
“Cannon balls are metal. What you need to do is deflect them.” He readied the gatling gun, filling the clip with bullets from a nearby trunk of ammo, the trunk bolted to the deck for that specific purpose.
Her face screwed up in confusion. “How?”
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