Persi’s eyes wide, having felt the bullet fly by her own face, she elbowed Mary in the ribs, loosening her grasp. She took several steps toward the Icarus which was parked nearby, while Boots, gun raised strode deliberately forward.
“Place your hands on your head ...” he said.
Suddenly the Daedalus righted itself, proving the Captain and his crew was back in control. Simultaneously, Boots lost his balance and fell backwards, Persi flopped against the vehicle, and Mary stumbled backwards down the ramp. The ex-cook flailed her arms, attempting to grab hold of anything to keep her from being sucked into the air but her broken finger was a detriment. Her hand found the winged contraption, now bellowing steam, just as she lost her footing and fell, sliding backwards down the last eight feet of ramp and over the edge, pulling the machine with her.
Boots ran to the wall and pulled a lever causing a hiss of steam and the cargo door to lift back into place. Nicholas, Joseph and a short stocky man in a soot covered uniform coat stumbled into the hold.
“Mr. Parry, how good of you to join us,” Boots said. “And Masters Joseph and Nicholas, you are welcome as well. Is all the engine room back in tip-top shape?”
Parry shot Boots a glance that could have shriveled a fig tree. “Yes, sir, all is dandy, just dandy.” He had a coughing fit then spoke again, “The Daedalus is wounded but nothing the boys and me can’t put to rights! But you must know that I suspect foul play. I believe the port engine was tampered with and swear I will get to the bottom of it.”
“I have no doubt you are correct about the foul play,” Boots said. “Unfortunately our culprit- Cook, Misses Mary Jones –has stepped out for some fresh air and I doubt she will return.”
The sootys looked at each other and smiled, Parry had the confusing look of an engineer, not appreciative of humor, good or otherwise.
Persi shook her head, “Boots, really.”
Interlude Three – The Final Test
“Again!” James commanded.
Maggie drew a ragged breath, bent and put her hands on her knees.
“I said again. How can you expect to get this right if you give up so easily?”
She gave him a cold glare.
“We’ve been at this for an hour. I can’t do it,” she wheezed.
“You are weak just like your father. Now do it again!”
He knew exactly the button to push spike her adrenalin. After two years of training in everything from combat to social etiquette, James had said if she could complete the ‘final task,’ she would be ready to take her revenge, but this obstacle course was proving his most challenging yet. She picked up the last glass orb, the thing she had to deliver to the other end of the course, and readied herself.
She watched James for the signal but at the moment he seemed distracted, looking out the open door into the hall.
He finally looked back to Maggie. “Come here,” he said. “It’s time for the final test.”
“That’s what I’m waiting on. Give the word.
I can do it.”
“That’s not the final test, dear Maggie,” he said with a chuckle. “Did you really think it would be that simple?”
She tried not to the let the anxiety show on her face, just like he had taught her.
“Hemmy, bring her in,” he called out to figures waiting in the hall, then handed Maggie a long, thin blade. “This is yours now. Wear it always and never forget what it has done. Some say an assassin’s blade remembers the blood it spills and makes it grow stronger. I’ve never been much for superstition, but the assassin himself should never forget.”
James’ dark-skinned partner, Hemmy, pushed a blindfolded heavy-set woman in front of him and into the empty warehouse. He forced her to her knees, the woman sobbing loudly. Hemmy yanked the blindfold from her and Maggie gasped as she recognized her maid from the brothel, Beulah.
It took a minute for Beulah’s eyes to focus, then another to recognize Maggie. “Oh, Miss Maggie, thank da lord it’s you. Please tell these men to lets me go, please tell’em I be okay and aint gonna say noth’n.”
Maggie felt sick.
James looked at Maggie. “Kill her.”
“No,” Maggie whispered in disbelief.
“You will never be strong if you cannot accept that no one in this world is looking out for you, but you. Your father taught you that lesson at six and yet,” James shouted. “you are so thick you still haven’t yet learned it.”
“No,” Maggie said more forcefully.
“You are weak and stupid. No wonder everyone has taken advantage of you. You deserve it. You waste my time claiming you want this, claiming you want to be strong, that you want to take back your life from all the people have made you their slave. But you are not who I thought, you are just like the others. Plodding along in your miserable life letting everyone else call the shots, letting everyone else decide your fate. This is it, this is how you take it back.”
Maggie couldn’t think. James was so close, and loud, and making some kind of horrible sense.
“Margaret, honey,” Beulah sobbed, “please let me go.”
“I can’t do it. Please don’t make me do it,” Maggie pleaded, her eyes filled. James stepped close to her and lowered his voice.
“You can never love people, they will only hurt you. Haven’t you figure this out by now? You will always lose if you love. The only way to take back your life is to cut out the people who get too close. These are the ones who will betray you. They will get you when you’re asleep, or in the bath. I won’t be like them and force you, but you know I’m right, and you know this is the only way.”
“Margaret, please. Tell these men to let me go.” Her voice still held that whining quality, but she had stopped crying.
“It’s time to leave this life behind,” James whispered into her ear.
Maggie felt like she couldn’t breathe. She tightened her grip on the knife remembering the last 16 years of her life, from her mother’s abandonment, to her father who sold her, to Sturgess and his brothel. Betrayal after betrayal, everyone she had ever been close to had done the same. Then it hit her, like a bolt of lightning, love was a weakness, a defect, and an illusion. Love would ruin her if she let it.
There was more blood than she expected.
Chapter 16 – Repairs are Made and New Friends Met
“Twenty feet. Fifteen feet. Ten feet,” Mr. Parry’s voice came from the engine room’s sound tube as they hovered above a wooded area on the boarder of Texas, Oklahoma, and the New Mexican Territory.
“Ten feet, aye,” said Captain Grimm into the same brass tube while watching their descent from the bridge. He swiveled his head to a different tube, one labeled Cargo Hold. “Crew, touchdown is eminent, prepare for a three-point moor.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Joseph’s voice resonated up the tube.
Sootys Joseph, and Nicholas, stood at the top of the lowered cargo ramp, along with Burton Shipley, Stewart 2nd Class, and Boots who was taking Griggs place. They stood waiting, ready to run to the ground and connect their heavy lines from the ship to several sturdy looking pines that presented themselves near the gondola. The sootys carried one huge rope with a large heavy hook at one end. Boots and Shipley carried a second line of the same configuration.
The ramp barely scraped the pine needle covered ground when they all ran to the bottom and split, one set of men continuing forward to connect a line to the bow, and the second set ran aft to do the same at the stern. Both pairs secured the line to the gondola with their large steel hooks, then ran the other end of the rope to a sturdy pine and quickly tied it off. Once the sootys had secured their rope, they ran back up the ramp, which was now bobbing from six to twelve inches from the ground, and brought down a third rope. They connected this rope to the starboard side, since the damaged port engine made the airship pull to the left.
“Nicely done, sootys,” the Captain said from then bottom of the ramp, as all four pulled and secured the starboard line. “And you, Master
Shipley, we will make you a qualified airman yet.”
The sootys grinned and nodded their thanks, while young Burton Shipley blushed and looked at the base of the tree.
Boots strode back to the ramp with the others. While the sootys and steward moved up the ramp and back to their normal stations, Boots stopped. “What is your estimated time of repairs, Captain?”
The man glanced at the sky, estimating the time to be around 11 o’clock. “Mr. Parry thinks he is the miracle worker. He has said, if he has the parts, he will have the lady in the air early tomorrow morning.” He smiled briefly, “If he works through the night.”
“Yes, of course, then the crew can stumble around tomorrow, half asleep, potentially making mistakes and endangering themselves, which I will not allow.” Boots pulled his pocket watch and popped the cover. “Please tell the Engineer, we lift at 1400 tomorrow afternoon, and he is to ensure the enginemen and sootys have had proper rest.”
“But the boilers, they will go cold,” Grimm said.
“Non-sense, Shipley and I can shovel enough coal to keep them warm.”
Captain Grimm seemed to consider the likelihood of his engineer allowing a gentleman dandy near his boiler. Boots translated his captain’s expression and spoke, “Grimm, please ensure the engineer knows that I will not have this otherwise. He and his men are to get at least four hours of sleep before we lift tomorrow.”
Grimm stood straight, seeing the decision in his boss’s eyes. “Yes, Monsieur Boots, it will be as you say.”
“Excellent, now, perhaps we can have our dinner on solid earth this evening? Please tell Parry that he and his men will also be expected to grab a bite, though they are not required to sit.”
“Yes, sir, I will ensure this will happen,” the Captain said. He turned to leave then swung back around. “Oh yes, and a sad thing ... Unfortunately, even though you did your best, Mr. Griggs has passed. What will you want for his ... disposition?”
Boots dropped his head. “I had feared this. The cook’s knife slid between his ribs expertly. I knew he was bleeding internally but,” he shrugged, “we had no equipment and I am not a surgeon. I am surprised he lived this long.”
“As I said, you did your best.” the Captain said.
“Yes, well, he had no family if I remember correctly.”
“None,” Grimm confirmed.
“Then perhaps,” Boots looked around, “this is just as good a resting place as any.”
“Aye, sir. I think you are correct. I will assist Shipley in digging the grave.”
“I will help also,” Boots said.
“As you wish,” the Captain said. He looked around then back at Boots, Grimm’s expression matching his name, and his voice softened. “Monsieur, I hoped I had left the life of the spy behind when the war was finis. Though it was exciting, and sometimes profitable, I have been glad that I had no need to watch the back. Now however, it seems like I must once again.”
“Yes, my friend,” Boots clapped him on the shoulder, “We had some interesting adventures for certain, and I cannot tell you that you will never need to watch over your shoulder, since the work that Persi and I engage in is quite ... sensitive, but I do not think you will see much to be overly concerned. You are safe.”
“Oh mon Dieu,” the Captain said, shaking his head vigorously. “You cannot think I am afraid, not after what we have been through.”
“Grimm, no, I can never doubt your courage,” Boots said quickly. “No, I am simply saying that if there is to be danger, you will probably not find it here.”
Captain Grimm smiled and nodded over his shoulder into the ship. “And yet this does not seem to be the case.”
This time Boots smiled. “Touché, my friend. Perhaps from this point on?”
Grimm turned, “Ah, mon ami, how is it said, ‘I will not hold the breath.’” He strode up the ramp.
****
Two hours later, they placed the body of Mister Clayton Griggs, Chief Steward of the private airship, Daedalus, in the ground not far from the landing site. When they had shoveled the last of the dirt back into the grave, Boots read a few scriptures from his Bible and Persi insisted on singing the old John Newton favorite, Amazing Grace, which seemed to be appreciated by the others.
Dinner was splendid. Not only was young Master Shipley a dab hand at ship mooring, and an excellent steward, but also a fine cook. He had taken quick stock of the ready supplies then, together with the junior steward, Daniel Morris, quickly prepared a basic but delicious dinner of ham steaks, fried potatoes, and roasted carrots. He even managed as fruit compote with sweetened heavy cream for dessert.
Several empty crates were offloaded, along with several large pieces of canvas that were spread in the clearing. Mr. Parry, his enginemen and sootys, along with Captain Grimm, the two stewards, Persi and Boots, all sat on crates or canvas and ate the meal as the sun began to set. A cool breeze moved Persi to reboard the ship to get a shawl. When she returned to the gathering, now a shawl tightly pulled around her shoulders, she heard someone ask why Mary Jones stabbed Mr. Griggs. “I believe I can answer that,” she said. “We had a chance to speak before he ...” Her voice failed.
Boots placed an arm around her and she sat next to him on a long wooden box. She wiped her tears and cleared her throat. “Apparently, during the time before and after Mr. Griggs was stabbed, Mary bragged about how she had fooled us all.”
“After Mr. Boots and I left the ship to investigate the building in Orlando, Cook took an empty basket, hid some food items from the pantry in it, then took the velocipede and rode ahead to locate a place from which she could pick us off.
“Boots and I arrived at the destroyed ammunitions factory and upon leaving, Mary shoots at us, wounding me. Our, until then unknown benefactor, Mr. Haskins, shoots at Cook and she leaves before she can finish her mission, meanwhile, I made it back to the Daedalus and found Griggs. He tries to render medical aid but finds there is no whiskey to sterilize my wounds.
“Mary Jones arrives with leaves in her hair, dirt on her dress and a story about taking a spill on the velocipede, which she relates to Mr. Boots with a proper number of tears. It is here where her story weakens for she did not know that while she waited on Boots to return, Mr. Griggs went back to the storeroom and completed an inventory. You all will remember that logistics was his passion.”
Several of the crew nodded and smiled, remembering his exacting calculations and lectures of ‘waste not, want not.’
Persi smiled too and continued. “After Cook told her story to Boots, thus creating an alibi, she went to the storeroom to return the items taken earlier. Mr. Griggs passed her and upon re-entering the storeroom, noticed the returned items, including the whiskey which he then took to Boots. Griggs suspected something was not right but had no proof.
“Unfortunately, Mary Jones suspected Griggs had found her out. Her paranoia led to her decision to sabotage the ship and make her exit earlier than originally planned. She accosted the steward in the passageway, then moved immediately to the engine room to work her evil, then on to the cargo hold to assemble what appeared to be a flying wing, which is where she ran afoul of Mr. Boots and his point-on marksmanship.”
“It is probably the best gift my father gave me,” he said.
Persi smiled and patted her husband’s hand.
“It is a fine story,” said the quiet voice with the accent of an aboriginal woman. It drifted into the clearing from the darkening shadows of the woods around them. Though on the surface it was not threatening, it transferred a feeling, an emotion, which made Boots hairs stand up.
Rustling came from every side of the clearing, causing them all to rise and Boots to draw his pistol. Captain Grimm drew his also. Someone pulled back a trigger, the clicking of the action sounding loud in the silence, for it was a dead silence. No birds sang, and no crickets chirped. All eyes swiveled to see Master Burton Shipley standing, pistol raised and one arm folded across his back in a dueling stance. His face turned r
ed and he shrugged.
“Who might we have the privilege of speaking with?” Persi asked to the darkness. “Please show yourself.”
The female voice whispered into her right ear, “Boo.” /
Chapter 17 – Of Vampires and Inhospitable Stewards
Persi screamed and jumped to her left tripping and falling against Boots. Standing where Persi had been just seconds before, was a tall thin girl. She appeared to be in her late teens or early twenties. The long black hair of her people, decorated the shoulders of her finely made buckskin shirt. The latter was a work of art, superbly adorned in expertly done beadwork. She was the perfect representation of a Comanche maiden, except she had pale softly-glowing skin, of which Persi had read of, indicating this beautiful woman was a vampire.
Great Britain had long ago moved both politics and society to the acceptance of supernaturals, while the Americas had not. The aboriginal peoples had dealt with these creatures since long before the first European ever set foot in the Americas. In their fear, they called them skin walkers, shape-shifters, and wendigo and labeled them evil. Not evil as an individual of course, but as an entire race for what would bigotry be unless it stereotyped an entire people.
Boots holstered his pistol and raised his hand. “We are sorry we have landed in your territory. Our engine needed repairs and we had to set down here. We intend to be gone by tomorrow afternoon and will stay to this clearing and our ship.”
“Why do you act as if this matters to me?” She sat on the crate previously occupied by Persi. “Why is it that you assume we are violent bloodsucking animals, something to be ‘handled’ and not understood?”
“Because you are violent blood sucking animals, and something to be handled.” Shipley said abruptly, still pointing his pistol at the woman.
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