Dragons & Dirigibles

by Cindy Spencer Pape

  “What have you done with the children?” She found a coil of rope with one hand and a hammer with another. “Where are they? Let them go and I swear, I’ll convince Victor to leave Devon and never come back.” She gripped the hammer.

  “I wish I could believe you.” Farnsworth lifted the weapon and sighted along the barrel. “If you’d only left when I asked, I wouldn’t have to do this.”

  Melody threw the hammer, striking the gun. It fired, the bullet going harmlessly through the roof of the barn. Farnsworth screamed, his hand bloody, and ran toward her. In that moment, Melody drew her stun gun and fired.

  Farnsworth lay on the ground, twitching. Melody shot him again for good measure, picked up her skirts and ran for help.

  Two steps outside the barn, something slammed into the side of her head and the world went dark.

  * * *

  Victor followed the larger tracks, lantern in one hand, pistol in the other. He’d thought himself a fool for going armed to a dinner party, but now he was glad he’d trusted his intuition. If only he’d trusted it more and not gone in the first place. Fear for Emma was a gaping black wound on his heart. When had he come to love the child so dearly? It wasn’t even that she was Dick’s daughter, not anymore. Emma had become, in her own right, the child of Victor’s heart. He wanted them to be a family, he realized. Himself, Emma, Melody and any other children they might have. Even if it meant building an airship field at Black Heath. When it came down to it, he’d rather have the woman he loved and not the paragon he’d once imagined. If he somehow managed to get both of them back safe and sound, he was going to do his damnedest to get Melody to agree.

  Somewhere under the barnyard, the passage split. One, Victor remembered from childhood, ran to each of the main outbuildings. Another passage, a steep staircase, had once run down to the cliffs, ending at an old cave that had collapsed decades ago. The tunnel had, in Victor’s memory, ended in a pile of rubble. Odd, how there were any number of footprints going up and down those stairs—most of them to and from the barns.

  Clearly the smugglers were using Black Heath and its passages as their base. But how? As far as Victor knew, only he and Dick had been aware of them, until Dick had shown Emma. He shook his head. Obviously, Dick had also shown Fleur.

  Victor stood for a moment at the crossroads. Should he head for the barns, and likely Melody? Or see what was going on at the base of the cliff. It was time to follow his instincts. He turned toward the cliffs. Before he could move, he heard a whimper off to his left.

  “Emma?” He didn’t raise his voice, preferring to avoid detection. “Alec?”

  This time the whine was followed by a soft chuff. “Birch.” Victor followed the sound. A few yards off, toward the barn, the big animal lay, lifting only his head off the cold cave floor.

  “Ah, boy.” Victor crouched beside Melody’s pet. “What did they do to you?” A quick study with the lantern gave the answer. Something had bashed the poor dog in the skull. Birch licked Victor’s hand and tried to struggle to his feet, falling hard on the ground.

  “You wait here, boy. I’ll come back with help as soon as I can.” Victor scratched the wiry fur on Birch’s shoulders and stood. “Good dog. Stay.”

  Birch thumped his tail and laid his head back down as Victor walked away.

  No more surprises waited until Victor reached the very bottom of the stairs. There, instead of the blocked entrance and pile of rubble he remembered, was a smooth oak door, anchored by timbers bolted into the native stone. Though the door was locked, Victor wasn’t slowed by much. He kicked hard, right at the latch, and the door swung open. Easing inside, he held up the lantern to see a large, dark crevice, slowly widening to a massive stone chamber. In the center, something gleamed, reflecting the light of the lantern, but the cave echoed his footsteps with the cold precision of an empty, lifeless hole. If the children were in here, Victor was too late, and he refused to accept that. He kept moving, approaching the brass and silver behemoth in the middle of the room.

  The giant crab was clearly mechanical. Each segment of its jointed legs was as long as a man, and the body was the size of a small fishing boat. Glass windows reflected back from where the eyes might have been. Inert now, it showed no signs of movement on Victor’s approach.

  Around the side, a metal hatchway stood open. Rubber gaskets lined the door, so that when closed the craft would be watertight. Victor slowly made his way inside. Strange or not, this was some kind of vessel, and despite his relative ignorance of machinery, Victor understood boats. He’d crewed under both sail and steam. Inside, he found the bridge at the front of the craft, boiler and throttle controls clearly marked in both English and Chinese characters.

  “Well what have we here, Fleur?” Why hadn’t it occurred to him before that his late sister-in-law had been involved? He’d known her father was an inventor. Had Richard known? Somehow Victor doubted it. His brother had been a wastrel but not evil.

  He left the crab and found the far door, a large slab of stone that must open onto the beach. It took him a few precious minutes to find the switch to open it, but when he did, the entire slab swung inward, making Victor jump back. The outside of the door was covered in rocks—or a clever imitation. Either these were false, or they’d been cut and hollowed specifically to hide the entrance. The glow of flames and a nearly full moon lit the night sky. Out on the water, much closer in this time, Victor saw the dragon.

  It was clearly a longboat of some sort, but made mostly of metal. No sails or masts broke the clean lines of the device, and at the head, the shape of the dragon was Chinese, not Norse. A few men worked on deck, but the ship was silent, engines stilled. Victor crept out onto the beach.

  “I still think we should just kill her.” The feminine voice, faintly familiar, came from the path, just above him on the cliff. Victor ducked back into the doorway and cocked his pistol.

  “No. Three hostages are better than two.” That rough, heavily accented tone belonged to Abraham, Farnsworth’s servant. Victor had only met the African once, but there was no mistaking the deep tone.

  “But she hurt Bertie.” The first voice, a woman, whined. As she came into view, carrying...something over her shoulder, Victor blinked. Miss Farnsworth. The lump she carried over her shoulder trailed long dark hair. Melody!

  “Just take her to the ship,” Abraham insisted. “The master will be all right. He’ll decide who to ransom and who to kill.”

  “Oh, all right.” Miss Farnsworth—Victor had no earthly idea of her given name—dropped Melody unceremoniously on the ground. “Though likely that she-bitch will kill the wench herself, just like she did that slave who tried to escape.” Now get that boat over here. I’m not riding in that underwater monster of yours.”

  Abraham grunted and hailed the dragon boat with a flare gun. Moments later, a small dinghy was lowered over the side and began to row for shore.

  He had to act before the boat arrived with reinforcements. Despicable though the action was, he simply raised his gun and shot Abraham in the back. The big man went down, along with the doctor, who’d been cradled in his arms.

  “Bertram!” his sister screamed. Kneeling behind Melody, she turned on Victor with a pistol in her hand and fired. He felt a streak of pain across his rib cage but didn’t fall. He turned his gun on the woman. “Step away from Melody.”

  “No. You and your whore have ruined everything. Now you’re both going to die for it, along with that worthless little foreign brat.” She shot again, this one going wide. “He even talked about marrying her. Can you believe it? As if he wasn’t in love with me!”

  “Aren’t you his sister?” Victor tried to line up a shot that wouldn’t endanger Melody.

  “So?” Miss Farnsworth screamed. “We were going to move to America and marry. Then no one would know.” Another shot fired, this one sending a spray of stone chips up into Victor’s face.

  “Victor!” Melody gasped and rolled, then went still when she saw Miss Farnsworth and
the gun. Victor saw her trying to surreptitiously slide her hand under her skirt.

  “Don’t move, bitch.” Miss Farnsworth got to her feet. “And you—put your gun down and get over here where I can watch you both. One wrong move and I blow her head off her shoulders.”

  Victor slowly laid his pistol on the ground and laced his fingers over his head. He took small, careful steps, not wanting to startle the woman with the gun.

  An inhuman howl split through the night. Something raced past Victor and snarled. “Birch.”

  The dog barreled into Miss Farnsworth with such speed that her shot went up into the air as she fell backward with a hundred and fifty pounds of angry canine on top of her.

  “Hold, Birch.” Melody crawled over to where the gun lay beside Farnsworth’s head and aimed it at the woman. “Tell me where the children are, and I won’t order him to rip your throat out.”

  “On the ship,” she sobbed.

  “Right.” Melody took the butt of her gun and slammed it into the side of the other woman’s head. “Do we have anything to tie her up?”

  “We’ll figure out something.” Victor scooped her up into his arms and kissed her. After a long moment of simply reveling in the fact that she was alive, he set her down and together they used bits and pieces of the kidnappers’ own clothing to tie up both Farnsworths. Abraham was dead, and Victor felt surprisingly little remorse.

  * * *

  She patted Birch’s head, avoiding the wound matted with blood, and praised him for saving them. Melody looked out over the sea. Her head hurt too, but like Birch she was wobbly but functional. Now it was time to retrieve the children.

  “The boat turned back. How are we going to get out there?” She looked around to see if there was a dinghy or something on shore.

  “I think I know,” Victor said. He gestured toward the cave mouth. “In there.”

  She followed him in and saw the crab when he lifted his lantern. “Amazing.” She stroked the aluminum leg and the sturdy copper body. “A shame the smugglers came up with this first.” Birch clambered in behind them.

  “Can you operate it?” He climbed inside and gestured for her to come in. “It’s some kind of landing craft.”

  “Underwater.” She touched the rubber seal on the hatch, then hit the switch to close it. “Ingenious.” She joined him on the bridge and grinned. “Damned right I can operate it.” She fired the boiler and switched on the gas-powered running lights. “Magnificent.”

  “How will we get on board without them killing Emma?” Victor rubbed his side, strapping himself into the seat next to her.

  “I don’t think we can,” Melody said. “Something like this would have to be lowered and raised on a winch. I think what we do is ram the damned thing, breach the hull, then climb aboard on the other side while they all scurry to the crab.”

  “Can we do that?” Tactically, he liked the idea but had no idea of the capability of this machine. “More importantly, can we be sure we won’t hurt Emma?”

  “You’re right. I still think we need to give them a target, though.” She maneuvered the crab out of the cave and into the water. Once they were completely beneath the waves, she switched the movement from walking to swimming. What an incredible device. She was going to have to add a study of watercraft to her work with airships—if they survived the night.

  “I don’t think we need to bother.” He pointed to a spot on the surface. “I detect Barnaby’s hand here. Sending out a burning boat is an old pirate trick.”

  Shots sounded, rumbling through the distortion of the water. “Brilliant.” With the focus on the fire, the crab was being ignored. She took the small craft around the bigger one. “A dragon boat. Of course.” That was what her dream had meant. “Damn it, why do I never know these things beforehand?”

  Victor didn’t say a word.

  Once they were close, Melody whistled. “It’s metal too. Made for submersion, just like this. How did they come up with this without anyone knowing about it?”

  “The crime syndicates in China are very powerful. They don’t let out a lot of information. Fleur must have somehow made contact with one of them.” He blew out a long breath. “Damn it, this is all my fault.”

  “Oh?” She spotted a dark area on the far side of the dragon that just might be a below-surface hatchway for the crab. Wouldn’t that be nice?

  “It was me who brought Fleur to Black Heath. I thought I was in love with her, thought she loved me. But as soon as we got here, she threw me over for my brother. All she wanted was his title.”

  “Or the house. But really, Fleur? Doesn’t sound Asian.” She had no doubt he was talking about Emma’s mother. Yes, that was clearly a hatchway. Better yet, it was open. Slowly, carefully, she began to maneuver the crab inside.

  “It isn’t her real name, but it means the same. Flower.” Victor waved off discussion of his sister-in-law and gasped. “You’ve done it. We’re on the ship!”

  “Looks that way.” Melody eased the bulk of the crab down onto the floor of the docking bay. The feet grabbed hold of something and the hatchway closed. Melody powered down the crab. Slowly, the water level lowered, until the bay was completely empty. “Kendall is going to love this. And he’ll kill me if I can’t re-create it. Especially after the bastards stole my silent airship.”

  “They stole your ship?” Victor unsnapped his belt and followed as she left her seat. “Why?”

  “Same reason I’m going to steal this. To copy it.” She played with the boiler control and tore off a gas line. “Just in case, however, one spark in here and the whole thing will blow to kingdom come. Leave the door open—the engine should be somewhere on this level.” She opened the hatch and stepped down, Miss Farnsworth’s pistol in one hand, Birch’s collar in the other. Her heart raced and she prayed that her terror for Emma, and for Alec and Victor, didn’t show on her face. This was not the time to be a nervous Nelly. “Now shhh. Birch, find Emma. Silent.”

  They passed the engine room and armory without spotting any crew members on this level of the ship. Melody carefully left the doors open, so that these rooms would also fill with gas. Was everyone up on deck? Birch sniffed along, still looking battered but his nose guiding them in an unwavering line toward a set of steps. “Glad it’s not a ladder,” Victor whispered.

  Melody nodded. On an airship, she’d never have wasted space on stairs when a ladder would have worked. “This must be some kind of flagship,” she murmured. “Built for someone important.”

  Victor rolled his eyes and they shared a look. He understood as well as she did that important people meant more and better guards. Damn it. She reached up and touched his cheek. “Be careful.”

  He grabbed her hand and kissed it, the fire in his touch warming her chilled body. “You too. We have a lot of talking to do when this is all over.”

  She smiled. “Good.” She turned and let Birch continue leading them up to another deck, this one carpeted with thick wool pile and decorated with lotus and crane designs. Her foreboding grew.

  Like the lower deck, this one felt empty, and Birch didn’t hesitate before leading them up another flight of stairs. Even more luxuriously appointed, this one featured hatchways in the ceiling, accessible only by iron ladders. Birch ignored those and guided them to the bow of the vessel, stopping to sniff at a pair of iron doors.

  “Private. This could be the bridge,” Melody whispered, trailing her hand along the engraved plaque beside the portal. “There will be people in here. Be ready.”

  Victor nodded and lifted his pistol. Melody steadied hers and pushed the button that released the double doors.

  This wasn’t the bridge. It was a floating palace. Brocade sofas lined the space, covered in pillows, and silk wall coverings featured a wide array of pink-and-red blossoms. Some of them seemed almost lewd, their petals barely euphemisms for human sex organs. Melody snorted. “Your former lover was a trollop.” It had to have been built for Fleur. Nothing else made sense.

  �
��Fiancée, thank you. We were never lovers.” Victor rubbed his face. When he lifted his arm, she saw the wet, bloody tear in his coat and cried out, muffling her mouth with her hand at the last moment.

  “You’re hurt!” Her world froze in place. “Let me see.”

  “Not now.” He caught her hand as she reached for him. “It’s only a scratch, I promise. I’m more worried about that bruise on your forehead.”

  She waved that away. “Just a bump. You’re sure you’re hale enough for this?”

  “I’m sure.” They followed Birch through a silk curtain to another room, this one a sort of study, done in the same lavish and lascivious style. Documents in elegant Chinese script covered the desk. Finally, they reached a bedroom. There was no exit, just a row of portholes to show that they’d reached the front of the ship.

  “Up there.” Back in the study, Victor pointed at a circle in the ceiling. “But there’s no ladder.”

  “Hmm.” Melody studied the hatch. Below it, a circular Chinese symbol decorated the carpet, an ornate bellpull hanging beside it. “Stand on the circle, back to back.”

  “Agreed.” Victor lined up with his spine pressed to hers. “Pull the rope.”

  Melody did, holding her breath as the hatch slid back and the carpet lifted—just the circle where they stood—and carried them up to the top of the ship.

  “Holy—” Some sailor’s cry was cut off as Melody and Victor emerged from the hatch, onto a roped-off deck. Right next to them, above the bedroom, the bridge was enclosed in copper and steel, two men at the controls, facing forward.

  Ignoring them, Melody swiveled, taking in the view from Victor’s position. That wasn’t nearly as good.

  “Welcome, darling brother-in-law.” A woman in full Chinese court dress stood on deck, her long black-painted fingernails tapping on Emma’s scalp. Around her stood half a dozen armed men—including Mr. Willard, Victor’s stablemaster.

  Melody’s heart sank at the betrayal.