by E. C. Jarvis
“A trial run of what?”
“You…you know.” The woman stuck her tongue out and wriggled it up and down and then started making entirely inappropriate hand gestures. Larissa would have laughed if she weren’t so busy being completely horrified by the suggestion that she was a prostitute and Holt and Kerrigan were her clients.
“I’m not a—”
“How much?” Holt’s voice cut off Larissa’s sentence. He didn’t move, didn’t even bother to roll over.
“Depends on how good she is,” the woman said with a wink and a smile.
Holt sat up abruptly and stood tall, grabbing Larissa’s arm. “She is very good,” he said.
Larissa opened her mouth to ask what the hell he was doing. Was he extolling her skills in the bedroom with some random harlot? A slight squeeze of her arm made her snap her mouth closed.
“Ah, you’re her boyfriend, are you? I’ll let her take a bath in my tub before she goes to see Cosby. She’s filthy and she stinks. You all bloody stink.”
“And new clothes,” Holt said.
“She can borrow some of my clothes, but once she makes some money, you can go buy her something nice.”
“Deal. We have questions,” he said.
“Madame Cosby can answer those.”
“You will answer them.” Holt squeezed Larissa’s arm again, then let go as he gave her a slight nod. Was he handing the questioning over to her? She was so confused by the whole situation, she wasn’t sure where to begin.
“What’s your name?” Larissa asked, immediately knowing it was utterly irrelevant to the situation. She was buying time to try to figure out some more pertinent questions.
“Naomi.”
“What happened to Greyfort’s?”
“What? I don’t know what that is.”
Larissa chewed on her tongue. It wasn’t the best start. “Sallarium City never used to have a brothel,” she said, not quite managing to form the statement into a question.
“No, but Cosby’s has done quite well in the short time she’s been open. Ever since the Hub thing exploded, the whole place went to the dogs. The rich folks moved out and the pirates moved in. Those guys have a load of money and only one thing besides booze they want to spend it on.” Naomi stuck her tongue out again and flicked it up and down at Holt, her eyes widening with unashamed meaning.
Larissa didn’t quite know what to do with herself. She wasn’t sure what information Holt thought she could get from Naomi but doubted it would be anything useful—nothing that would aid them in their mission to get to the Capital, at any rate. She hoped Holt wasn’t planning on going along with the suggestion that she enter the brothel under the pretence of getting a job. As much as she wanted a clean bath and some fresh clothing, it didn’t seem like a worthwhile risk to take.
“Why have the trains stopped?” Holt asked when Larissa had fallen quiet.
“There was some big battle between a bunch of pirates who have been showing up over here in the last month or so. They’ve all been coming in by airship, loads of them. The enforcers tried to fight them, but when they realized it was a losing battle, they tried to run away with the last of the residents. That’s when the trains were stopped. Airship or feet, that’s the only way in or out now. How did you people get here?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Larissa said as she finally got the gist of what Holt was expecting. “Who was in charge?”
“Madame Cosby, I told you.”
“No…who was in charge of the pirates? Someone must have organized them all to convene here.” She sighed, already knowing the answer and yet wanting to hear it anyway. Poor Naomi hadn’t yet worked out that they clearly weren’t people to be trusted, but then again, in a city overrun by criminals, brothel owners, pirates, and murderers, perhaps it was just another day for someone who got paid to have sex with whoever could afford it.
“Oh. A man named Solomon. He turned up a couple days ago and then left the other night during the big battle with the Sky Force ship. Did any of those military boys survive, do you think? They’re usually rich and good for a nice hard hump.”
Larissa saw Holt’s back straighten from the corner of her eye. No doubt he felt affronted, on behalf of all Sky Force men, by being thought of in such terms, even if he couldn’t count himself as one of them any longer. Naomi looked between him and Kerrigan, who still lay prone beside the fireplace. From the expression on her face, she seemed to finally question the three of them.
Larissa wasn’t done yet, especially after hearing her father’s name. “Solomon,” she said with an encouraging smile, “Solomon Covelle?”
“Client of yours too, is he? Interesting man. Not so great in bed, but he is rather good when it comes to—”
“How do you know he was in charge?” Larissa blurted. She wanted technical detail, not disgusting information about her father’s performance in the bedroom. It was sickening enough to think he had a habit of sleeping with prostitutes. Mother would certainly not have been impressed.
“Because every time we were interrupted by one of the pirate captains, he gave them orders. Who are you people?”
“She is a prostitute looking for work and I am her boyfriend,” Holt said. His flat tone made it sound about as convincing as a child with cookie crumbs all over his face trying to deny having eaten a cookie. “We will see your employer now. Meet us in the alley behind the establishment in five minutes.”
Naomi gave them both a long and thorough look, then shook her head and left.
“Holt, please tell me you said that just to get rid of her?”
“I did.”
“Good. As much as I want a bath and some new clothes, I would rather enter the Capital naked than go through that form of humiliation in order to look nice.”
“I am not going in there for clothes…although a change of outfit may be beneficial if the opportunity arises.” He paused to look down at his own grubby clothing, caked in mud and blood.
“Wait, did you just say you’re going in there? You’re not in need of her services, are you?”
“No,” he said, glaring down at her. “I’m going in there for money. They will have funds stored somewhere. I will deal with the proprietors and take anything of value.”
Larissa scrunched her nose up, knowing exactly what Holt meant when he said deal with the proprietors. “You want to break in and murder people and steal their money? Gods, Holt.”
“Infiltrate, not break in, and I will only murder people if necessary. Don’t tell me you need to have a lengthy discussion on the moral issues regarding stealing from those sort of people?”
“I hadn’t exactly given it any thought. I don’t like the idea of stealing from anyone.”
“Would you like me to tell you what sort of things the women who work there are subjected to? Would that lessen your anxiety?”
“No. I know what those women are put through. If you steal from their employers, they will probably take out their anger on the women.”
“Then I will make sure none of those in charge live. Larissa, we’re wasting time here. Do you want me to obtain funding to continue our mission, or do you want to make the long journey back to the train with nothing to show for our efforts?”
Larissa thought about it for a moment. Every quick solution which came to mind seemed accompanied by yet more problems. As she forced herself to meet Holt’s dark and impatient stare, she conceded to his plan—at least with a few amendments of her own.
“I’m coming with you,” she said.
“I had a feeling you might.”
“I don’t want you slaughtering everyone in sight. Someone will discover a bunch of bodies and want to know who is to blame. I don’t want a city of angry people chasing us down. We have enough enemies as it is.”
“Agreed. What is your plan?”
She swallowed, her throat complaining about the lack of water, a burning sensation running from her gut to her mouth. “We can go along with the ruse. If
she thinks I’m a prostitute looking for work and you’re my boyfriend, so be it. That should be enough to get us inside without bloodshed. We’ll assess the situation once we’re there.”
“As you wish,” Holt said.
“What about Kerrigan?”
“What about him?”
“We can’t just leave him. If he wakes up and we’re gone, he will worry that we left. I doubt very much that his first waking thought would be to assume I’ve taken employment at the brothel down the street, ruse or not.”
“He is a big boy, Larissa. I’m sure he can cope.”
“He can indeed,” Kerrigan said, his voice gravelly. His eyes opened and he turned slightly, grimacing with the movement. “I would prefer to join you, but I fear I am somewhat incapacitated right now. If you can manage to bring back some water, it would be appreciated…not bathwater, though.”
Larissa nodded, not wanting to leave him behind when he was so devoid of strength, but they had already wasted so much time. Holt’s plan was dubious at best, the promise of returning to the train with gold to buy the supplies they needed was enticing enough to make her push aside the moral boundary for a while. As Holt gripped her hand, a flutter of nervous anticipation ran through her stomach. The two of them were hardly in the best condition to fight. As he pulled her towards the doorway, she didn’t really have time to argue.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
An angry growl erupted from Cid’s stomach as he trudged through the mud. Though he’d eaten some of Friar Narry’s awful-tasting cold soup, it served to make him feel sick rather than abating the hunger. Now, between the oozing squelch of every step through the muddy field and the constant complaints his stomach made, the silent trip to the airship wreckages seemed rather noisy. Sandy walked in step a few paces behind, and behind her, Saunders followed, pulling the cart they had fished out of the boggy mud by the train tracks. Its wheels squeaked and clanked, complaining as loudly as Cid’s stomach with every movement.
They’d left Narry behind, hiding in the dining car. The Friar seemed cheerful as he waved them away. At least, no one had seemed to notice the strange group of people who’d purloined the train as their new home, and Cid could only hope that would remain the case.
Eventually, they passed by the wreckage of the Eagle. The pile of bodies which had been left behind the night before were gone; at least all of the military fallen had been taken. Cid tried his best not to pay too much attention to the liberal scattering of pirate corpses. It certainly made for a morbid graveyard.
“Would the Admiral have taken them?” Sandy asked as they turned around the charred carcass of the Eagle’s hull.
“Yes. They will be given funeral pyres to appease the Gods,” Saunders said.
“Bloody Gods,” Cid muttered under his breath.
One final lump of wood came into view. It was hard to tell from the mess whether it belonged to their airship or not, as they’d come this far and it seemed a shame not to check it out.
It took another half an hour to reach the vessel. Cid’s legs ached, his stomach growled, and his head felt light, but none of it mattered when it became clear how the ship had gone down. It had hit hard, one propeller shot out completely sending the whole thing crashing down on its side. The bow of the ship had disintegrated entirely, a smattering of splintered wood coating the muddy field in a halo surrounding the ship. The ass end stuck up in the air, which made his heart thump a little harder. His engine had been buried at the bottom of the ship in the farthest room at the back. If anything would have survived the crash, it appeared that particular room might have been the safest place.
“I take it back,” Cid said as he came to a stop beside the wreck, staring up at it.
“What?” Sandy asked.
“Cursing the Gods. I shouldn’t have done that. They may have smiled on us, after all.”
“Don’t say that until you’ve seen inside. It could still be nothing more than a collection of smashed up metal parts.” She patted him on the shoulder and stepped forward, only to be yanked backwards by Saunders.
“Stay here. Let me make sure it’s safe,” he said, pulling a pistol from his pocket. Sandy rolled her eyes and opened her mouth as if to argue as Saunders launched himself up, crawling along the slanted deck.
“I wish he’d stop trying to order me about like one of his soldiers,” Sandy said.
“I don’t think it’s that simple for men like him. Holt still orders Larissa about, and she doesn’t seem to notice.”
“Probably because she loves him. I love Tobin as family, but one of these days, I’m going to break his nose.”
“Clear,” Saunders called as his head popped out of the stairwell.
“He’s concerned for your safety, that’s all,” Cid said as he climbed up the deck. The wood was still slick after the rain, making for an awkward climb. He scooted down the stairs into the depths of the ship. It was distinctly similar to the attempt at salvaging the last airship in Eptora, save for the scorching heat and burley Eptoran soldiers breathing down their necks. He didn’t like to think of the collective value of the number of ships which had been destroyed since he and Larissa first set out from Sallarium City in the Professor’s dirigible.
Below, the staircase disappeared into nothing more than a collection of planks, the walls collapsed into the corridor, blending rooms and levels into one big muddle. Cid turned his head when he spotted an arm poking out from a support beam. As much as the Marines had collected the bodies from out on the fields, he supposed they hadn’t really had the time to go picking around the insides of the ship for the last of their men.
Slowly and carefully, he clambered his way to the room containing the engine, while Saunders and Sandy went in search of her orb.
The door to the engine room hung on one hinge, dangling down into the lopsided ship. His heart fluttered a little as he saw a spanner wedged between the door and the frame; he’d forgotten about his tools. With a deep breath, his eyes fluttered closed, and he said a silent prayer before glancing into the room.
“Fuck me,” he said as the engine came into view. It had taken a few scrapes and knocks, and would no doubt take a few more as they tried to extract it from the room, but it was intact. Better still were the collection of tools that seemed within easy reach, and the final pleasing sight came when he found the remains of the lump of Anthonium still sitting in the engine casing. The scavengers could have made more money from the sale of that small chunk of rock than they would from anything they salvaged from the other wrecks. Cid laughed at their incompetence.
As a screech of delight went up from the other end of the ship, he couldn’t help but smile. It seemed their journey across the fields would be worth the effort after all.
…
Holt jolted on Larissa’s arm as they reached the alleyway, bringing her to a stop.
“What is it?” she asked, a frown furrowing her brow.
“Planning,” he said. He softened his grip and stroked down the outside of her arm all the way to her wrist, which he turned over carefully. Her forearm was still marked, her healing ability appeared greatly reduced, but there was no doubt in his mind that it still remained.
“I was hoping that would have gone,” she said as she rubbed her arm.
“You can still heal.”
“I’m not so sure. I couldn’t help Kerrigan. I don’t think I could anyway. The world seems a far more dangerous place without that ability helping me along. It’s typical. I just got used to it, and now I’ve lost it.”
“You haven’t lost it.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I’m alive.” He felt his lips curve into a smile.
“You think that’s because of me?”
“Why else? I should be dead. I did die, and yet here I stand. I’ve suspected it was because of you for a while now.”
“Because of my ability?”
“Yes. I’ve felt better when I’m near you and awful when we spend any time apart.
The closer the better.”
“That’s almost romantic, Holt,” she said with a smirk as her cheeks turned pink.
“Almost. As important as this is—”
“I know, it’s not pertinent,” she said with a sigh, extracting her arm from his grip. “You have a plan, I take it?”
“Besides going in there and slaughtering everyone I see?”
“Yes, besides that.”
“No.”
“Then I guess you had better play the part of my boyfriend, and I will play the part of a woman willing to have sex with men in exchange for money. Just try to be more natural about it.” She turned and headed towards Cosby’s, wriggling her backside as she walked.
His eyes were drawn to it, despite the fact that her dress was ripped to shreds and covered in an unappealing mixture of dirt and gore. He didn’t want to imagine her bathing to wash it all off, though his mind treated him to the image regardless. The thought of the brothel owner forcing her into a sort of test performance made the blood in his veins boil. Despite Larissa’s desire to walk away without leaving a pile of bodies behind, there would be at least one dead body before they left.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
The inside of the brothel was far worse than Larissa had imagined. A sticky layer clung to the carpet, pulling at her boots with every step. She didn’t like to guess at what substance might have caused such a mess. The walls were painted in a deep, velvety red, and a chandelier that had no business being in a former clock shop hung precariously from an undersized hook in the ceiling. The main room seemed to be a sort of waiting room, with benches and mismatched chairs placed around. The most noticeable and horrifying thing seemed to be the smell. Larissa managed to keep herself from gagging, her hand covering her mouth and blocking off her nose as she followed Naomi through to the back rooms. It smelled like sweat and something else—the unfamiliar scent of masculine fluids. A mouthful of bile collected at the back of Larissa’s throat. She would have worried about puking on the carpet, only she wasn’t sure that it wouldn’t be improved with a covering of vomit.
