by Geonn Cannon
Beatrice said, “Right this way, ma’am.”
She led Dorothy to the stairs. “Was your day fruitful?”
“It was splendid.” She touched Beatrice’s shoulder and squeezed, unable to stop herself from making physical contact. Everything that happened in the undersea cave was already starting to feel like a dream. Being on familiar territory, safely aboard the ship, it was easy for her brain to file away something so fantastic as a dream or hallucination. She still needed the confirmation, however, and touching Beatrice was the best way she could think of grounding herself.
When they arrived at the brig, Virago was seated in the middle of the floor with her skirts spread out around her. Her only reaction to seeing Dorothy was to slightly raise her chin and tilt her head to one side. Dorothy stepped in front of the cell with Trafalgar taking a position slightly to her left.
“Welcome back to the land of the breathing,” Virago said. “I was afraid you’d turned mermaid and simply swam away.”
Dorothy said, “Hello, Emmeline.”
“My name is Virago.”
“You’ll be arrested, charged, and tried under the name Emmeline Potter. You should get used to hearing it.”
She laughed and shook her head. “I won’t spend a day in jail. I’ll never stand trial. Besides, who knows what a brutal English prison might do to a poor defenseless Irish lass? You would be condemning me to torture and violence. You’re far too civilized for that, Lady Boone.” She got to her feet and moved closer to the bars. “Tell me what you found. You were down there far too long to just be poking around. I know you found something.”
Dorothy said, “You’ll hear about it soon enough, along with everyone else. But for right now, you and I have unfinished business. I seem to recall a threat. You said if I got in your way, you would... ah, it’s been weeks. You would kill me? Something along those lines? Me, those I love, my colleagues, et cetera. I mean, I have the gist. The details aren’t important.”
Virago’s eyes darkened as her smile grew. “Oh, I remember the details, Dot.”
“I’m here to tell you that the slate is clean. By beating you to the punch, I saved your life.”
“How on earth did you arrive at that conclusion?”
“If you had gotten here first, and if you’d been able to find the same cave we did, you would have been alone. Or with your disgusting golem creations. Is that accurate?”
Virago shrugged. “I only work with those I can trust. That eliminates everyone but myself and those I have complete control over. So I suppose you have a point.”
“Then you would not have survived the trip. There is a trap down there, one that I didn’t see until it had been sprung. Now, maybe your magic would have given you an advantage, but I doubt it.”
“You obviously managed to escape using only your wits.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Miss Potter. I had no idea how to escape. In fact, I didn’t. I drowned. I lost consciousness and ran out of air. It’s only because I had Trafalgar with me that I’m still alive. She waited for me. She pulled me out of the trap and started me breathing again. If she--”
Dorothy’s rhythm was thrown by Beatrice’s hurried exit from the room.
“Crumbs,” she said under her breath. She focused on Virago again. “If not for her, there is no doubt in my mind that I would have died. I know the same thing would have happened to you.”
Virago looked at Trafalgar, who nodded. “It’s true. I don’t have Dorothy’s confidence that magic could have aided you in that situation. Whoever built the trap knew what they were doing. You would have died in that cave if you went down there alone.”
Dorothy said, “Seeing as our reaching it first technically saved your life, I would say any revenge you planned to take should be replaced by gratitude. And since I don’t think either of us could stomach that, why don’t we just call it even? You won’t come after us, and we won’t consider you an enemy. I’m sure you have much more important matters to tend to closer to home now that your anticipated windfall isn’t going to be coming anytime soon.”
Virago weighed her options carefully and squared her shoulders. “You wouldn’t pursue me?”
“You broke into my friend’s office, broke Desmond Tindall’s hand, assaulted several members of this crew and commandeered their vessel... I do intend to hand you over to the proper authorities. But I believe you when you say that you won’t remain imprisoned any longer than you choose to be. But if you flee, I won’t pursue. We have more important things to deal with.”
“Very well. I don’t share your certainty that I would have been as helpless as you were down there, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. You found the cave first, and there’s no sense in wasting resources on hurt feelings. We’ll consider this a draw--”
“The hell we will,” Trafalgar said. “This was a defeat for you.”
Dorothy smirked. “The woman has a point.”
Virago glared. “Fine. You have nothing to fear from me, Lady Boone. At least, not in retribution. The next time our paths cross...”
“Oh, I’m certain there will be many sleepless nights due to that threat, Miss Potter.” She walked away from the cell. “Settle in. There’s no sense rushing back to London, and it’s sure to be a dull trip from your point of view. Consider it a chance to catch up on your sleep.”
She went upstairs and found Beatrice on the deck. The sun had continued its downward trek and the sky was a deep velvet color. Not quite night yet, but certainly no longer day. Beatrice was standing on the deck, her hands on the railing, looking out toward Greece. Or maybe Italy. Dorothy had gotten so turned around that even with the sun setting she wasn’t entirely sure about directions. She nodded for Trafalgar to continue on and joined Beatrice at the railing.
“Sunsets are always so lovely at sea.”
“You died?”
Dorothy pressed her lips together. “There was a point--”
“No games.”
“Yes. I was trapped in a room with no entrance or exit. It filled with water, and I didn’t have my helmet with me. I remained afloat as long as I could, but... in the end... yes. I drowned. Trafalgar remained until the trap reset itself. She risked her life to save mine. She brought me back.”
Beatrice moved her hand to cover Dorothy’s. “I felt it. I was unconscious when it happened, but I felt something that woke me up.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you privately.”
“You didn’t have a chance to. I’m sorry I ran out the way I did. I just didn’t want Virago to see me being weak.”
Dorothy curled her finger and brushed the hair away from Beatrice’s face. “You do look rather peaky. You must have used an awful lot of magic today.”
Beatrice shrugged.
Dorothy leaned in close and kissed the corner of Beatrice’s mouth. “Go to bed. I’ll come join you when everything is settled on the bridge. You’ve done more than enough for today.”
“I think I’ll take you up on that.” She turned and hugged Dorothy. “I’m so relieved you’re okay.”
“Same here.” She kissed Beatrice’s neck. “Go on. Rest. We really do have a long trip back to London ahead of us, and I want you to spend as much of it as possible recuperating.”
Beatrice said, “I’m just tired enough to not fight you on that. Good night, Lady Boone.”
“Pleasant dreams, Miss Sek.”
Beatrice brushed her hand down Dorothy’s arm as she retired for the evening. Dorothy rested both hands on the railing and looked out over the calm sea. The sky was even darker now and the air was so still that the breeze felt like a hand brushing through her still-damp hair. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, holding it in until her lungs forced it back out. She couldn’t remember drowning, couldn’t remember those final horrifying seconds when she was trying to breathe but couldn’t, and she supposed she was grateful for that. But if the experience had taught her to be grateful for a simple inhale of salty sea air, she suppo
sed she couldn’t regret it too much.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Later that night, Beatrice slipped into Dorothy’s room without knocking. As expected, Dorothy was seated at the small desk under the porthole with the stone rubbings spread out in front of her. She had a book open at the top of the desk and was scribbling potential translations onto a spare sheet of paper. She looked up when Beatrice came in and smiled before going back to work. Beatrice put the leather pouch she was carrying on the foot of the bed.
“It’s driving me crazy that we can’t develop the pictures until we return to England. I’m terrified they won’t come out properly. We had the flash, but the bioluminescent fungus might not have interfered with the exposures.”
Beatrice didn’t say anything as she approached.
“I wish I had brought along Weston or even Strong. This reference is fine, but it’s not as...”
Beatrice slipped the pen out of Dorothy’s hand and put it to the side.
“I sort of need that to work, love...”
Without a word, Beatrice marked the place in Dorothy’s book and closed it. She turned off the lamp and took Dorothy’s hand.
“I want to at least make a dent on this...”
Beatrice led Dorothy to the bed and began undoing the buttons of her blouse. “You’ve been working nonstop since this mission began. Then you went underwater and drowned. You died.” Her voice broke, and she took a moment to compose herself before continuing. She slipped the blouse off Dorothy’s shoulders and ran her fingertips over her freckles. “We have at least a week before we’re back in London. That’s a lot of time to fill. You’ll have plenty of time to make headway on the translations. But I believe you’ve sacrificed enough of yourself to this mission for one day.”
“And what about you?” Dorothy asked. “You went to bed over an hour ago, and yet you don’t look like you’ve slept at all. Your day was as harrowing as mine.”
“I kept reaching over to find you.” Beatrice undid Dorothy’s belt. Her pants hit the floor a moment later. “After everything that happened, this will be more restorative than sleep.”
“I think that’s fair.” Dorothy leaned in and brushed her lips across Beatrice’s. “While I was down there. When my oxygen was running out...”
Beatrice flinched. “Please don’t.”
Dorothy brushed the back of her hand over Beatrice’s cheek. “I only wanted to tell you that my last thought before losing consciousness was of you. All I cared about was making sure you knew just how important to me you are.”
“I know.”
She took off Dorothy’s underclothes and took a step back to admire her, biting her lip before guiding Dorothy onto the mattress. Dorothy moved the pillows to prop up her shoulders and to get a better view of Beatrice as she undressed herself. As she dropped the last article of clothing, she picked up the package she had put down as she entered the room. She opened it and withdrew a contraption made of straps and buckles. Dorothy perked up at the sight of it.
“Well. I had no idea you’d packed that for this trip.”
“Tropical locales, the sense of danger, I thought it might be fun if we had the time.” She stepped into the harness and reached between her legs to press one of the three pouches inside herself. She grunted quietly at the sensation, then tightened the leather straps on her hips. The golden buckles caught the moonlight coming in through the window as she crawled onto the mattress. Dorothy spread her legs and put her hands on Beatrice’s shoulders.
The device was one of her own creation, something she couldn’t commission out to Threnody or any of the other craftsmen she knew. The phallus hanging from the front hung limp until Beatrice cupped the other two pouches and began massaging them. The fluids within were released into the limp leather shaft and gave it girth. Warmth made the compound harden into a serviceable prosthetic, so Dorothy wrapped her fingers around it and began to stroke as Beatrice hovered over her.
“I always forget how big it is,” she whispered, angling her head to kiss Beatrice’s neck.
“Do you need me to go down?”
Dorothy shivered. “Well, a bit of lip service couldn’t hurt.”
Beatrice moved down Dorothy’s body, letting her lips, tongue, and fingers take full advantage of the trip before settling between her legs. Dorothy opened her mouth slightly in anticipation of the touch, lifting her shoulders off the pillow when it finally came. She’d never met anyone as skilled as Beatrice when it came to this particular skill, an oddity when she remembered that Beatrice had never had a female lover before Dorothy introduced her to the possibility. She had to be a natural talent, and Dorothy prided herself on discovering it.
It didn’t take long before Dorothy was wet enough to continue. She whispered to Beatrice that she was ready. Beatrice returned to her first position and slipped her hand between the small of Dorothy’s back and the wrinkled sheets, gazing down at her as Dorothy guided the tip of the phallus into her. Beatrice rolled her hips forward as Dorothy sank down. Dorothy curled her toes and put her free hand on the back of Beatrice’s head as she was filled.
Several of her past lovers had considered the phallus with apprehension, wondering why she felt the need for penetration if she wasn’t interested in men. Dorothy thought it was an ignorant question. If it was just about penetration, she could achieve it with her fingers or certain items from the garden. It was about the connection. It was about feeling someone she loved inside of her, being connected to them more intimately than with any other interaction. Cunnilingus was one thing, and having Beatrice’s fingers inside of her was divine, but nothing compared to being joined at the hip and intertwined with another person.
The phallus was designed to mimic a physical cock, the pouch inside Beatrice squeezed and massaged by her muscles to push more of the fluids out of the other two pouches. That would make the compound within the shaft throb and the cock to become harder and thicker. Beatrice moved slowly to make it last as long as possible. She moved her hands over Beatrice’s body, tracing the curve of her breasts and the line of her throat. Beatrice turned her head and closed her lips around two of Dorothy’s fingers.
The waves gently moved the boat, affecting Beatrice’s rhythm to the point where Dorothy held her still and just let the sea do the work. Beatrice put her face in Dorothy’s hair and returned her hand to where her body curved, just above her ass.
“Hold,” Dorothy whispered. “Hold, hold... h-hold...”
Beatrice nipped at Dorothy’s ear. A few seconds later Dorothy’s grip tightened and her breath washed over Beatrice’s shoulder as she came. It wasn’t a violent climax, but it was glorious and cleansing and precisely what she needed. For the first time since waking up in the cave with Trafalgar kneeling over her, Dorothy finally felt like she had survived. She felt the sweat on Beatrice’s back and shoulders. She felt the way Beatrice’s breasts moved against her when they breathed. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth to thank Beatrice, but all that came out was a sob.
“Sh,” Beatrice said, withdrawing the phallus and rolling onto her side. She pulled Dorothy to her, rocking her gently as she wept. “It’s all right. You’re safe. You survived.” She kissed Dorothy’s forehead and held her until the tears passed.
#
Trafalgar watched the sea roll by through the porthole. There wasn’t much to see at night, but occasionally they would pass another ship or a steamer that would light up the world. The lights were off in her cabin so the glare wouldn’t interfere with the view. She was still trying to wrap her mind around where she and Dorothy had spent their day and the darkness helped clear her head. The air in the cave shouldn’t have been breathable, and yet. The people who made it shouldn’t have had the capability to dive so deep, to create something that would still be operational all these centuries later. And yet. She could still feel the rough stone under her fingers. The sight of the bioluminescence was burned onto the back of her eyelids. She couldn’t have slept even if she wanted to.
She had left the rubbings with Dorothy because she would have a better shot at translating them. It was unlikely they would make much progress until they got back to London, but she’d learned it was best not to discourage Dorothy Boone when she got focused on a task.
There was a light knock on her door, just barely loud enough to be heard but not so loud it would wake her if she was asleep. She smiled, assuming it was Bert dropping by for a late-night visit. She checked her hair in the mirror and opened the door without asking who it was, a risky move considering the takeover a few hours earlier.
But her only surprise was a pleasant one, as she discovered Beatrice standing on the other side of the door. She was wearing her normal clothes, but something about her seemed disheveled and unkempt.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Beatrice said.
“Not at all. Is everything all right?”
Beatrice said, “Yes, everything is fine. Thanks to you. Dorothy told me the entire story about what happened down there. She told you to leave, but you remained behind. You risked your own life on the off chance you could save hers.”
Trafalgar said, “Of course.”
“It’s the second time you saved her. The labyrinth wasn’t... she was still conscious and mobile when you refused to leave her behind, so it didn’t hit her as hard as it did this time. It hit me hard as well. The fact that you remained...” Her voice trailed off and she looked down at her feet. After a moment to compose herself, she looked up again. “This past year, I’ve considered you a necessary presence. Dorothy wanted you around, so I didn’t object. But you were still an outsider in my eyes. I wish I could have seen your value without making you prove yourself so dramatically.”
Trafalgar shifted awkwardly. “I... I never felt excluded, Miss Sek.”
“Be that as it may. I would have fought for you if it benefited Dorothy, but I wouldn’t have put my life on the line for yours. That changed today. Whatever Lady Boone expects of me, you can expect it as well.”
