He only wanted to keep her safe. But Elizabeth wouldn’t have felt safe if she’d seen him. She’d have fled—and in her panic, might have run straight into her father.
She’d once been desperate enough to jump from a railcar to escape that fate. Caius would do anything to see that Elizabeth was never so desperate again.
That meant he had to follow her at a distance and be content with the little he saw. The flash of bright red stockings and sturdy black boots as she ran. Her strong grip on the satchel slung crosswise over her shoulder, preventing the bag from bouncing against her hip. The tail of her blue scarf hanging down her back, and the line of her jaw when she stopped at a street corner and waited for a spider rickshaw to pass.
As she paused, Caius drank in the sight of her. He’d thought the jolt to his heart would ease as surprise faded and truth settled in. She was alive. He’d thought the need to touch her and to take her into his arms would diminish, but that desire was only growing.
But that desire had always grown. From the day he’d met her until grief had shattered his heart, that need had never diminished.
Of course it wouldn’t now, either.
The rickshaw skittered by and Elizabeth broke into a run again—still headed toward the airship docks. Caius kept pace at a jog that he could maintain for hours.
Elizabeth moved just as easily, as if she’d never leaped from a railcar into a ravine. But he couldn’t assume she hadn’t been injured. The menagerie might be the reason she’d come to live in Brighton…but more than half the people born in England during the Horde occupation possessed mechanical prosthetics or tools grafted to their bodies. Even if she’d lost a leg, it could be replaced here, and she had enough money to purchase one that moved as smoothly as a limb made of flesh. Until he saw skin, Caius couldn’t know that she’d escaped unscathed.
A heavy ache filled his chest. How the hell had she survived that jump? Christ. He could still see her, that last wild glance back at him before she’d leapt. He could still feel the terror and disbelief when he’d lunged for her, when his fingers had brushed the hem of her coat but he’d gripped nothing in his fist. The memory had haunted his nightmares for two years.
But she was alive.
The street widened leading to the airship field. Almost fifty balloons floated overhead in ordered rows, from luxury passenger liners to sturdy ferries to flyers for hire that Caius wouldn’t trust to carry him across the Channel. He slowed to a walk beside a steamcoach, using its bulk for cover when Elizabeth stopped at the schedule written on two slate boards near the field entrance. Choosing the next departing airship.
It wouldn’t matter which one she chose. This would have been the best route of escape when Caius had been chasing her, because he would’ve had to wait until he found another airship headed in the same direction. At one time, it would’ve been the best way to lose her father and the hound, too. No longer.
His gaze rose to the south end of the docking field, where the private airships were tethered. A cloud clipper with a gleaming hull and twin balloons hovered in the fourth station, smaller than many of the personal yachts in the same row, but sleek and swift—the Mary Elizabeth. Her father had purchased the airship shortly after Caius had removed his shackle of indenture. In the past two years, the sight of that clipper had meant one thing: it was time for Caius to run. Not to escape Jannsen but to lay a false trail, leading Elizabeth’s father and his hunters away from what mattered most—but Caius had inadvertently created a path leading them to Elizabeth.
He wouldn’t let that trail end in her capture.
A moment later Elizabeth sped past the slate boards, into the northern docks. Caius waited until she was out of sight before going to look at the schedule, his gaze sliding down the list and stopping on one. Kingfisher. The skyrunner was leaving in twenty minutes—a four-day journey to the Ivory Market. A fast flyer and a destination where she couldn’t be easily traced. She would have chosen that one.
A glance at the fare made him suck in a sharp breath. He’d spent most of his money hiring an airship to bring him to Brighton ahead of her father. This would take every last denier he had.
He’d pay it, gladly. But Caius would be stranded in the Ivory Market until he earned enough for a fare home, and he’d already been away longer than he’d intended.
Caius’s mother would understand. His sister would, too.
His daughter wouldn’t.
The cost of this trip wouldn’t be the money. It was the additional weeks of his daughter’s life that he would miss and never get back. It was the four days of being on the same airship with the woman he loved—all the while knowing he would never have another four days with her again.
Yet it was well worth the price if his daughter and Elizabeth were safe. Willem Jannsen would come after her. But he wouldn’t expect to find Caius standing in his way.
So the chase was on. And this time, Caius meant to end it.
Chapter Two
AS SHE ENTERED HER PRIVATE CABIN, Elizabeth’s heart was still pounding from the wobbling autogyro ride she’d taken from the airfield’s entrance directly to Kingfisher’s main deck. She could have boarded the airship via the cargo platform, as passengers typically did, but walking to the docking station would have led the hounds directly there. Eventually her father would track down the autogyro pilot and learn which airship Elizabeth had taken, but after the pilot had flown her to the skyrunner, she’d paid him to take a message to her boardinghouse matron. So that would give Elizabeth an extra hour, at least. Probably more. No other passenger vessels were leaving for the Ivory Market for several days, and even if her father hired an airship, that crew would need time to secure the provisions and coal needed for the long journey.
By the time he reached the Market, she would have already left again. The hounds might track her to another docking station, but it wouldn’t matter. Unlike Brighton, the flights in and out of the Ivory Market weren’t registered. She would board another airship and there would be no trace left of her to follow. Not even an eyewitness.
Opening her satchel, Elizabeth made certain her trousers and coat were still folded inside. She wouldn’t alter her appearance yet. That had to wait until she reached the Market, or this crew would be able to give her father a description of a young man to follow. Let her father continue asking about a young woman, instead.
Kingfisher’s engine suddenly thrummed, starting a vibration through the boards under her feet. Through the hull, she heard the faint rattle of chains as the cargo platform was raised against the deck, followed by shouts from the crew to release the tether anchoring the skyrunner to the station.
Preparing to depart—and she was still free. By the skin of her teeth.
Even now, her father might be entering the airship field. Elizabeth wanted to go up on deck, to watch the hounds lose her trail at the autogyro stand, but giving in to the urge could be a mistake. If Elizabeth could see her father then he could see her, and all of her running would have been for nothing. Better to wait in her cabin until they had flown at least a mile south.
The tread of boots sounded from the passageway. Already anxious, Elizabeth tensed as the steps paused at her door—then moved on. A moment later, she heard another cabin door opening and closing.
One of the other passengers, then. When she’d asked, the captain had told her there were four men aboard, aside from the crew. Not many, but the fare was expensive and the route dangerous. Most airships followed the Atlantic coastline around Europe to avoid flying over Horde territory. The higher price reflected both the risk the aviators took and the speed with which they’d arrive at the Ivory Market.
It was a risk Elizabeth was willing to take, as well—and speed that she was willing to pay for.
After a few minutes, she glanced out the porthole. Only water below. They’d already left Brighton.
She went up on deck to watch England vanish into the distance.
WITHIN AN HOUR almost everything had vanished int
o a thick swirl of white. Standing near the front of the skyrunner and looking back along the airship’s side, Elizabeth could barely make out the shape of the balloon at the stern, as if the envelope simply faded away into the heavy fall of snow. Nothing on the ground was visible, but she’d flown this route before and knew what lay below. Hundreds of years ago, the French occupied these lands. But that was before the Horde’s armies and war machines had rolled in from the east. Before the zombie infection had swept across the continent. Before most of Europe had fled to Scandinavia and the New World.
Now there were only the ruins of cities and villages overgrown by the surrounding vegetation. There were only forests and fields harvested by the Horde.
And zombies.
The ravenous creatures roamed unchecked over most of Europe and Africa. Only a few walled cities and outposts stood on each continent. Elizabeth thought the risk of flying this route wasn’t that it took them over Horde territory—she’d hidden in several villages at the edges of the empire when Caius had been chasing her, and had felt as safe there as she had anywhere in the New World or around the North Sea. The real danger came from the slim chance that the airship would be forced to ground, its defenses overwhelmed by the dead, and the passengers’ flesh torn apart and consumed while they were still alive—or worse, suffering a bite that would turn them into one of the creatures.
Animals didn’t become zombies, though. They were just eaten.
Her cheeks stinging from the cold and wind, Elizabeth looked east. There was nothing to see but falling snow. But her father’s family had originally hailed from that direction. Nobles from the lowlands of Holland, they’d migrated to Johannesland in the northern American continent, near the great freshwater lakes. With the permission of the local native trade federation—an arrangement strengthened by several marriages over the years—her father’s ancestors had developed large tracts of land as a sanctuary for many of the animals brought from Europe and Africa.
But not all of the species survived. Of those that had, their populations—small to begin with—had declined over the decades, so that few breeding animals had remained by the time her grandfather inherited the sanctuary.
When her father had been a young man, he’d traveled around the world searching for a solution. He’d sent hunters to find specimens to reinvigorate the breeding stock—and to save the animals from certain extinction if they remained in zombie-infested lands. And he’d appealed to Horde smugglers, who exported stolen technology out of the empire to fund their rebellions.
The machine they’d found had surpassed even her father’s hopes. Created by order of a Great Khan after he’d failed to produce a son or daughter, the device had been designed to replicate him so that the issue of his flesh could be implanted in the womb of his favorite wife. Elizabeth didn’t know if the Khan had succeeded in his plan, but it didn’t surprise her that the Horde had invented such an incredible machine. They’d created other marvels, both wondrous and terrifying. The zombies’ infection was not a natural sickness, but caused by tiny mechanical bugs in the creatures’ bodies. In the occupied territories, similar bugs had allowed the Horde to graft prosthetics and tools to the bodies of laborers. Her father’s hunters were infected with the same bugs, which made them faster and stronger than uninfected men and women—and allowed them to heal more quickly.
But the bugs weren’t all the Horde had created. There were the monstrous kraken and megalodons in the seas. The boilerworms and the floating jellyfish. Towers which could broadcast a radio signal and control an entire population.
Few people knew of her father’s machine. In the New World, any Horde technology was automatically suspect. But his success had been noticed by scientific societies and other conservationists. Soon he was not just replicating specimens from the sanctuary in Johannesland, but from other sanctuaries throughout the Americas. His hunters brought in more animals and he delivered their replicated issue to other naturalists struggling to renew failing populations.
He’d met her mother in that way. A naturalist from Manhattan City, she’d brought a chimpanzee to his sanctuary. Within a week, her mother had married him.
Ten years later, she’d died giving birth to Elizabeth.
A lantern flared to life near Elizabeth’s post, radiating faint heat across her cheek. Startled, she glanced up. The day had grown dim—though white flakes still filled the air, night was falling. Each breath streamed from her mouth in a frozen ribbon, slipping away into the wind.
Suddenly cold, she made her way down the ladder to the second deck. She removed her coat and hat, grateful for the copper pipes that circulated hot water from the boiler room and throughout the airship, warming the cabins to a comfortable temperature. In her quarters, she lit her lamp and tried to fluff some life into her flattened curls. She would be expected at the captain’s table before too long, where her conversation would consist of lies about who she was and why she was headed to the Ivory Market. That would be easy enough; she’d done it many times before. She always had different names and stories at the ready.
Blast it all, though—she’d grown weary of telling them. Just once, Elizabeth wanted to be herself.
But she never had been…except for the one week she’d spent on an airship with Caius. He hadn’t expected her to be anyone else and she hadn’t pretended to be. For the first time, she’d just been Elizabeth.
She would have preferred an opportunity to be herself while she wasn’t tied to a bed, however.
A knock sounded at the door. Most likely the porter coming to announce dinner.
“I’ll be there shortly,” she called. “Thank you!”
Another knock. More insistent this time.
For heaven’s sake. Did they think she needed an escort to find the captain’s cabin? She wasn’t likely to become lost on the way; it was on the same deck as her own quarters.
Frowning with irritation, Elizabeth opened the door and encountered a wide chest. She glanced up.
It was as if she’d conjured him from her wish to be herself. A tall man with broad shoulders stood in the narrow passageway. Dark hair. A face that had been a beautiful, sullen boy’s—now harder, leaner, with shadows carving sharp angles from his cheekbones and jaw.
Caius.
Her heart plummeted.
She slammed the door and hit his booted foot, wedged against the frame. He pushed into the cabin. She turned to run and his left arm snagged around her waist. Kicking the door shut, he clapped his gloved hand over her mouth before she could shout for help.
“Don’t be afraid, Elizabeth.” His big body crowded her back against the bulkhead and she tasted the warm leather of his glove on her tongue. “I’m not here to— Bludging hell!”
Yanking his thumb from between her clamped teeth, Caius shook his hand as if to fling away the pain. He stared down at her, his eyebrows drawn and his expression dark. All at once, his lips quirked into a smile and laughter glimmered in the blue of his eyes.
Elizabeth hauled in a breath to scream.
Caius’s head swooped down. His mouth captured hers.
And suddenly, she had no breath at all.
CAIUS HADN’T INTENDED to kiss her.
But she was so warm. Alive. And her lips were stiff beneath his.
He drew back before she recovered from her surprise and bit him again. She stared up at him, brown eyes wide in an expression frozen by astonishment.
“Forgive me, Elizabeth,” he said, though he wasn’t at all sorry. Caius had wanted—needed—to do that for years. But now wasn’t the time, and he sure as hell didn’t have the right. “You don’t need to run. I’m not here to take you to your father.”
As he spoke, Caius watched her anger burn away the shock. Her features tightened.
She didn’t believe him. He didn’t blame her.
And she was alive.
He didn’t have the right but couldn’t help himself. Catching her face between his palms, he kissed her again. Her body went rigid. God, h
e had to stop this. Her hands clenched on his biceps and he braced himself for another bite. Incredibly, she rose onto her toes, softening against him. Caius couldn’t halt his disbelieving groan when her lips parted beneath his.
Elizabeth. Here, alive. In his arms.
And she was returning his kiss.
Heart thundering, he angled his head and delved deeper. Her chest hitched as he penetrated her mouth and tasted her, sweet and hot. A shudder ran through her slender frame. Her fingers slid into the hair at the back of his head and fisted, as if to hold him closer.
Or to hold him in place.
Sharp pain sliced through his lip. Caius jerked his head back, tasting blood.
Christ, he deserved that. He had to get this need under control. This wasn’t what he was here to do.
Not to kiss her, not to touch her. Just to make sure she was safe.
She glared up at him, her lips reddened and a flush darkening her cheeks. Her palms flattened against his chest and shoved.
Caius didn’t move. “Elizabeth—”
“I’m not going back.” Her voice shook with resentment and frustration. “Get out. Leave me be.”
He would. But not yet. “Come up on deck with me.”
Her mouth compressed into a tight line. She averted her face, eyes bright with sudden tears.
Caius knew she would hate that. When he’d been twenty years old, no longer an apprentice but a huntsman, she’d happened upon him unexpectedly in the sanctuary’s keep, her arms full of the alfalfa she was carrying to the giraffe paddock. Her startled gaze had met his before she’d given him a wry smile—and, as if they conversed easily every day, she’d suddenly told him,
“Do you know what I despise? That I cry when I’m upset. I especially hate it when I’m upset and having an argument, because as soon as the tears begin falling they undermine my every point, no matter how rational.”
He’d noted that her eyes were red, then. As if she’d been crying—and arguing.
And he’d hated his desperate need to go to her, to offer comfort. He couldn’t remember now what he’d said in reply, but it had probably been similar to so many of his responses to her. What had upset her? Was her feather mattress too soft or her clothing too fashionable? Did she have a bag of jewels that was too heavy to carry?
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