Charmed Vengeance tac-2

by Suzanne Lazear

  “We’re going to a museum?” Noli gazed at stone building in front of them which said Museum of Art. “Since when do you like museums?” She didn’t mind going to museums, but they weren’t generally at the top of her list of things to see in a new place. Jeff had never been fond of museums because they frowned on touching the exhibits.

  He gave her a lopsided smile as he held open the door. “I have grown up a little.”

  “No, I don’t see it,” she teased as she walked inside, warm air greeting her and wrapping around her like a blanket.

  They hung up their wraps and walked inside the small, still new museum. Noli took in the opening exhibit of Rubens. The museum wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t packed.

  “Fat naked women were never a subject I found interesting,” Jeff whispered, taking her arm and leading her out of the room just as a group of uniformed schoolgirls came through with their portly, faded teacher, listening boredly to the dowdy old schoolmarm prattle on about the virtues of Rubens.

  Noli laughed softly, yes, he was still her Jeff. Still, curiosity as to what was so extraordinary that he’d brought her here bubbled inside her.

  The next room held a collection by Dutch artists. Noli strolled along the paintings, taking them in, trying to remember which artists were featured so she could tell V about it. Most of the paintings displayed were scenes portraying everyday life—V’s favorite.

  This is boring, the sprite huffed. I want to go back to the greenhouse.

  Me, too. Though it’s not that boring. Besides, Jeff wants to show us something.

  Oh, I wonder what it is, she perked. These are dumb. My flowers are better.

  Noli ignored the comment and continued perusing. When Jeff made impatient noises she slowed down in order to annoy him.

  “Are you enjoying the paintings, dear?” An older man in a plaid vest and polka-dot bow tie toddled over to her. “I’m Mr. Jenkins, the museum curator.”

  Noli turned to him and nodded. “Pleased to meet you, sir. Your collection of Dutch paintings is splendid. Do you have any by Jan Steen?”

  “You are a fan of Dutch painters?” Mr. Jenkins eyebrows were like two wooly caterpillars and they leapt in surprise. “No, we don’t have of Mr. Steen’s work here. But they’re quite lovely, aren’t they? My favorite of his works is The Feast of Saint Nicholas.”

  She tried to remember if she’d ever seen that one in V’s book. “I like The Dancing Lesson because of it’s a playful celebration of childhood.”

  Actually, that was V’s favorite. When it came to Dutch painters Noli preferred woodland scenes. Not that a painting of children teaching a cat to dance wasn’t amusing.

  Jeff cleared his throat. “Noli, we don’t have much time.”

  “Sorry, my brother’s being impatient,” Noli told the curator. “I’m still not sure what he wants me to see so badly.”

  “If you only have a short time, you absolutely must see the antiquities room,” Mr. Jenkins replied. “We just got a few new additions.”

  “Oh, that sounds lovely.” Not really. Antiquities? She’d rather see something interesting, like tools—she loved examining tools used throughout the ages.

  His brown eyes went alight through his spectacles. “Why don’t I show you?”

  Noli glanced to Jeff. Allowing him would be the polite thing to do.

  “Trying to avoid the school group?” Jeff laughed.

  Mr. Jenkins looked around and lowered his voice. “Their instructor, actually.”

  Noli put a gloved hand to her mouth and chuckled. “Please, lead the way.”

  They followed the doddering curator through the small museum. It wasn’t as grand as the one she’d been to in Boston. The antiquities room stood on the second floor, afternoon light streaming through picture windows and the domed skylight in the center of the ceiling.

  A collection of metal masks on the wall drew her. She studied their intricate expressions. It was almost as if the faces of people had been frozen, removed, and bronzed for posterity. Gruesome, really.

  “Everything in this room is Iron Age and before,” Mr. Jenkins told her.

  “Iron Age? What a remarkable collection.” She hadn’t been expecting things that ancient.

  “We’re quite lucky. You must see these statues.” He showed her headless statues and old coins—even a sword, the entire time engaging in a rather uninteresting banter that reminded her too much of school. She smiled and nodded, making the appropriate noises and asking the occasional questions. Jeff wandered off to examine the other end of the room, probably bored by Mr. Jenkins’ commentary. Not that she blamed him. One thing she didn’t miss about Los Angeles was attending school.

  “Mr. Jenkins?” A young man with red hair and a smattering of freckles poked his head in the room. “The schoolgirls are waiting to hear your lecture on Baroque painters.”

  “And here I hoped they’d forget me,” he whispered to Noli, giving her a droll wink. “Of course, Mr. Williams, I’ll be right down,” Mr. Jenkins called.

  Mr. Williams nodded. “Yes, yes, but please hurry. Mrs. Carlson doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” He disappeared.

  Mr. Jenkins made a face, as if he were forcing himself to eat something distasteful. “Well, dear, it’s been a pleasure. I now have to go bore some schoolgirls.” He grimaced, as if it were a waste of time and knowledge to do such a thing.

  Noli laughed, since she could imagine just that. “I appreciate you taking the time to tell me about the antiquities.”

  “Please, continue to look—there are some baubles of feminine interest in the corner.” He gave her a fond smile and with a bob of his head, tottered off.

  “Finally. He was so boring,” Jeff whispered. He closed his eyes and pretended to snore.

  Noli elbowed him in the ribs. “It was awfully nice of him.”

  “Come, look at these.” Jeff led her to some glass cases against the wall filled pottery, daggers, bracelets, and such. “Isn’t the crown pretty?” He pointed to a brass crown decorated with intricate knots, probably once belonging to a Celtic princess.

  “It is.” Her gaze fell to the design carved on a piece of metal. Frowning, she leaned over the case, wishing Mr. Jenkins were here so she could ask him to unlock it. The piece might look like a bit of junk, but it was the carvings that interested it.

  “What do you see, Noli?” Jeff asked from beside her. “I … I’ve seen those carvings before.” She frowned, trying to place it. Its incompleteness made it difficult to recall not only what it looked like whole, but where she’d seen it.

  It hit her and her knees buckled. Yes, she’d seen the design many times. It was a bloom made of five entwined circles—the symbol of the high court of the Otherworld. How had it ended up in a mortal museum?

  “That?” Jeff made a face. “Perhaps you’ve actually started paying attention in history?”

  A nervous laugh leaked from her lips. “Yes, that must be it.”

  Why the artifact was in the museum wasn’t her concern, after all, it was just a scrap. She’d mention it to V later.

  Jeff offered her his arm. “Are you ready? We have to be onboard before sunset—and we promised to bring Vix back something. I think we passed a sweet shop.”

  “Oh, I could use a pastry—and a cup of actual tea.” She grinned at Jeff who listened to her whine about no tea every single morning.

  He took her arm, schooling his expression into their mother’s favorite and mimicked her giving a pained sigh. “I suppose.”

  She shook her head as they left the room and walked back down the stairs.

  “Wait. What was it that you wanted me to see?” She looked around the gallery of Rubens, the schoolgirls gone.

  Jeff laughed. “Me? What do I care about art? I just wanted to go someplace warm and the museum is free.”

  Noli elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. “Grownup, indeed. Now come along, I think you owe me a cup of tea.”

  Thirteen

  Surprises

  Pink stre
aked the sky as Kevighn wandered through the cargo ship docking area toward the Vixen’s Revenge. The gangplank of the ship was down but no one seemed to be around.

  “Shipman Silver requests permission to come aboard?” he called, stamping his feet on the wooden docks to keep warm, hoping to garner someone’s attention.

  “Oh, it’s you.” Captain Vix appeared, looking up and down the sparsely occupied docks as if expecting someone else. “Permission granted. Stow your things below in crew quarters. Supper will be soon in the galley, and remember,” her brown eyes narrowed. “Stay out of the engine room.”

  “Yes, sir.” Curious as to how she kept saying that. Now he wanted a peek even more.

  Kevighn went inside the tidiest airship he’d ever seen. In the galley a very large man with an eye patch cooked. Right, they all took turns cooking. It didn’t smell half bad.

  The wooden stairs led down below. He turned and found himself at a door marked engine room. Hmm …

  He looked around the small hallway then slipped inside. The first thing he noticed was how clean the room—and the engines were. The second was the little painted flowers festooning the engine. Interesting. He wouldn’t have pegged the captain for such things. She probably didn’t even like men.

  Toward the back stood another door, two boxes hung on them, one filled with socks. Odd. Airship folk got strange sometimes.

  He peaked inside the partially open door, curiosity propelling him. Deep red fabric swathed the tiny, empty room. A doll, a needlepoint pillow, and a blanket lay draped on the hammock in the corner. Ladies hats hung on the back of the door. Very, very interesting. A tool box sat on the desk and books on engineering filled the shelves along with a few others.

  “What do you think yer doing?” a male voice demanded from behind him.

  Kevighn turned and looked at a short, pudgy man with glasses, white hair, and a striped hat, dirt streaking his cheek. “I’m the new crewmember. I was looking for crew quarters.”

  The older man’s eyes narrowed as if he didn’t quite believe him. “This way. You best be leaving her alone.

  Who?” A girl engineer? Or a joy-girl in the only available space on the ship?

  “Our engineer.”

  Kevighn nodded as he followed the man out of the engine room. “Of course.”

  She was probably the captain’s …lady friend. Yes, that made perfect sense given the captain’s warnings.

  “The names’ Winky and these are crew quarters.” Winky opened a door which led to a very small, lightless room with six hammocks and footlockers. “Those two are both unoccupied, take yer pick.”

  Kevighn chose a top hammock. Winky watched as he stowed his things in the footlocker as if waiting for him to do something wrong.

  “Chore list is in the galley, changes every day.” Winky turned to leave. “Come along or you’ll miss supper.”

  As they climbed the stairs, the sound of the captain scolding someone echoed down the stairwell. Her voice certainly carried, especially in close quarters.

  “I told you to be back before sundown,” she chided.

  “Sorry,” a man replied bashfully. “It’s just sundown now.” She made an annoyed noise. “Go eat, both of you—and thank you for the cake.”

  “We thought you’d like it,” a female said shyly. Her voice reminded him of Magnolia, but lately everyone seemed to remind him of her.

  Meeting the crew would be interesting. Hopefully, they’d be more like Jeff and less like Winky and the captain. As if hearing his thoughts, Winky narrowed his eyes at him as they crossed what looked like a common area and entered the galley.

  A young woman, hair under a hat with a little bird on it, set the table with mismatched dishes. The hat hid her face, but her bustled gown looked rather fancy for this sort of airship.

  Jeff held up a hand in greeting. “Ah, Kevighn, you made it.”

  “Kevighn?” The young woman whirled around, nearly dropping the dish in her hand. Steel colored eyes stared at him. A familiar jaw dropped.

  His heart pounded. “Magnolia? What are you doing here?”

  Was the Bright Lady continuing to smile upon him or playing tricks?

  The girl in the engineering room must be his fair blossom. No wonder the crew was so protective. The first mate’s little sister, a young girl, not to mention Magnolia sort of inspired protectiveness—and the fact she didn’t like it much only made it more fun.

  Jeff did a double take. “Wait—you two know each other?”

  Kevighn’s chest tightened. How exactly could he explain knowing her in a way that wouldn’t get him pushed off the ship mid-air?

  “He knows V and James.” Magnolia set the table without missing a beat. But she bit her lower lip as she did so.

  “Does he?” Jeff focused on him.

  The intensity made Kevighn want to squirm. Instead, he shrugged, wishing she would have chosen a better explanation. “I wasn’t always an air pirate.”

  Jeff harrumphed. That probably wasn’t the best answer either. But it wasn’t as if he was friends with either one of those rapscallions.

  Kevighn studied her out of the corner of his eye. She looked even more beautiful than she had the last time he’d seen her, before he’d been exiled. He sucked in a sharp breath. Magnolia was no longer mortal. When had that happened?

  And why?

  The captain took the seat at the head of the wooden table. Kevighn tried to sit next to Magnolia, not that he could speak with her so publically, but she ended up between Jeff and the large dark man he’d seen earlier in the bar.

  Supper was uncomfortable. Every time he even looked in Magnolia’s direction someone got his attention and pelted him with questions.

  The message was clear–yes, if he was going to speak with her he’d have to be very discreet, otherwise they might make a detour over the Grand Canyon.

  Noli put away the dress she’d had laundered off ship. The clever laundress even managed to get the grease out. The newest member of the crew could pose a problem.

  Kevighn. On this ship. Flying figs.

  He was exiled from the Otherworld, just like V’s family had been. That meant he had to make it on his own in the mortal realm and take up an occupation. Kevighn had been a pilot before and even owned his own airship once. It wasn’t as if exile would make him respectable all-of-thesudden.

  Why couldn’t he have simply gone to work in an opium den? Certainly he’d spent enough time in them.

  Kevighn wished to speak with her, she could see it in his eyes. Noli didn’t want to have the discussion of how she came to be here and why she was no longer mortal. No, it still hurt too much, and Kevighn …

  Well, a man of opportunity such as he would see V breaking her stone as a chance to court her. No matter how handsome and dangerous he might be, she wasn’t about to be pursued by the likes of him. Fortunately, Jeff and the crew did an excellent job of deflecting him.

  Someone rapped on her bedroom door. Her insides knotted as she closed the latch on her footlocker.

  “Who’s there?” Noli prayed it wasn’t Kevighn.

  “It’s me.” Captain Vix.

  “Come in.” Noli place her new plant, a pot of mint, on her worktable next to her roses.

  Vix popped her head in. “The new crewmember isn’t bothering you, is he? Winky said he was poking around.”

  “No, though I have to admit, him being here surprised me.” She sat on her hammock, toying with the curls of the redheaded doll.

  “If he bothers you, let me know. I’m not completely certain about him.” She twisted a little as if unsure. “I’m actually here because I want to know if during your repairs you by chance did anything to make the engines faster.” The gleam in her eyes told Noli that she hoped the answer was yes.

  Noli grinned. “I may have tweaked a few things. Why do you ask?”

  “Good, stand by in case there’s a problem, we’re leaving.”

  “Now?” Noli threw her leather apron over her good dress she’
d yet to change out of and stuffed her work gloves in her pocket.

  “We’re going to chase some real baddies.” Her eyes danced with delight, like a child opening an enormous bag of sweets. “We’ve been chasing them for months, but it always seems like they never have cargo when we’re in a position do anything. Since the federal government won’t do anything about it, we—me and a few other ships—do. Try, at least.”

  The conversation she’d had with Jeff came back to her as she grabbed her tool box. “Human trafficking. You mean these girls are transported by air?” Vix nodded. “It’s less regulated than sea or rails. Now stand by. If we’re going to catch these sons of dogs we’re going to have to give it all we’ve got.”

  As if nothing were wrong, Noli sat at her worktable weaving her watch chain. Not that anything was amiss. No, the entire crew, sans Winky and Jeff was boarding the ship of bad air pirates, the traffickers. It was as if she had no value since she couldn’t use a pistol.

  What she needed to do was check the engines; also, the hull was going to need repairs, as was whatever else the baddies shot up when the Vixen’s Revenge attacked them.

  But no, Noli had been ordered to stay in her room like a naughty child so she wouldn’t get in the way. Perhaps she couldn’t use a pistol or fight, but surely she could do something more useful than work on her watch chain … or practice throwing her knife into the door, which she’d done until the sprite threatened to take over. Thad said she had a knack for knife throwing, which was good because she didn’t seem as adept at knife fighting.

  I like making the watch chain. It’s much more fun than playing with the knife. James is going to love it so much. See how the beads sparkle? the sprite interjected as Noli wove the tiny silver beads she’d bought today into the pattern.

  They are pretty, she replied. This would be part of the alternating sections of the watch chain, which would be made of five sections united with the silver clasps she’d also bought today. Ideally, it should only be three sections, but Charlotte’s hair wasn’t long enough and a shorter piece was easier to start and stop.

  She’d just finished off the section when someone knocked on the door.