by H. L. Burke
“Worth considering.”
The doors in this portion of the airship were wider and further apart. Each had a number in the center, starting with 20 and 19, across from each other.
They stopped in front of 15.
“Here we are.” Nyssa reached for her lockpicks in her back pocket. However, when she brushed the knob, the door swung open.
The porcelain-skinned woman in the red dress blinked back at her.
Chapter Four
“Renard!” the red-dressed woman yelped.
A man leapt up from one of the two narrow beds and fumbled for a revolver on the nightstand. Nyssa flung her lockpick set into his face, knocking him off balance. She barreled into the woman, shoulder first. The woman toppled onto the man as Nyssa’s fingers clutched the revolver’s handle. She aimed it at the man.
Ellis rolled into the room then pushed the door shut behind him. “Well, this is awkward.”
Nyssa alternated her aim from the man to the woman, who clutched Renard’s arm, her green eyes wide.
They can’t be any older than I am. Nyssa swallowed. They’re practically kids.
She backed up to stand beside Ellis and lowered the gun. “This room doesn’t belong to you.”
Without his hat and mask, the man looked more like a boy, fresh-faced and wide-eyed. He had dark hair and olive skin. His vest and trousers fit him loosely, obviously made for someone a size larger.
“Mr. and Mrs. Cormac, I presume?” Ellis crossed his arms. “Where are our passports?”
The woman pointed to a black handbag that sat on the other bed. “We needed them. You could get another set, take another airship. We had to get out of Freeport.”
“And how do you know we didn’t?” Nyssa scowled. “People don’t buy fake passports for the fun of it. What was so urgent that you had to rob us at gunpoint?”
Renard looked at the girl.
She stuck her chin in the air. “We aren’t thieves.”
“Actually, by the definition of the word, and the fact that you’re standing in a stateroom I paid for, in possession of documents I also paid for, I’d say you are,” Ellis said. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t turn you over to the captain as the stowaways you are?”
Nyssa’s stomach twisted. Because the captain might recognize me from the wanted posters.
“We … we just had to get away. We couldn’t …” Tears welled in the girl’s eyes. She flopped down on the bed, buried her face in the pillows, and sobbed.
Nyssa raised her eyebrows. “Seriously?”
Renard bent over the girl, stroking her hair and making soothing noises. “Shush, Amara, my love. Please don’t cry. Please.”
Ellis cleared his throat. “Maybe we should start over? Who are you two, and why were you in such a hurry to leave Freeport?”
“We don’t have to answer your questions!” Renard snapped.
“Renny, dearest, we at least owe them an explanation.” Amara sat up, rubbing at her red eyes. Renard offered her a handkerchief, which she dabbed at her cheeks and nose. “My guardian, Uncle Cyril, does not approve of the love Renard and I bear for each other. He wouldn’t even let us lay eyes upon one another, so we eloped.”
Nyssa resisted the urge to roll her eyes.Characters in penny dreadfuls show more sense than these two.
“As I am only seventeen, Uncle Cyril believes he can drag me back home,” Amara continued. “That’s why we’re running away, to San Azula, where he will never find us.”
“And it seems you planned this escape brilliantly,” Ellis said. “The whole passports and tickets part, especially.”
“We had no other choice.” Renard’s expression darkened.
“How about using your own funds and your own passports rather than taking what you need at gunpoint?” Nyssa narrowed her eyes at him.
“We were desperate.” Amara clasped her hands together. “Please, you have to understand. You must know what it’s like to be young and in love.”
“I spent my teen years trapped inside a massive computer, so not really,” Ellis said.
The young couple stared at him.
“Ignore Ellis. He gets cranky when confronted with stupidity,” Nyssa said. “Whatever reason you two had for what you did, it doesn’t change the fact that we needed those passports and tickets as much as you did. Couldn’t you have worked it out with your uncle? Or waited until you were eighteen and didn’t need his approval?”
“You don’t understand. My uncle is awful. He wouldn’t even let me see Renard.” Amara took her lover’s hand. “Every moment without my Renny is torture. To survive another year without him …” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “And now, if he catches us, he’ll have Renny sent to prison and never let me out of the house. We’ll never see each other again.”
“It’s not our fault you—” Nyssa stopped when Ellis touched her hand. Something in his face had softened. She stooped closer to him and whispered, “You aren’t falling for this production, are you?”
“I may not know much about being young and in love, but I do know a thing or two about parents thinking they can make choices for you.” He frowned. “It’s rotten.”
Nyssa nodded. Ellis’s father had been determined to “fix” his son’s handicap, to the point of experimenting on him against his will. Their history was still a frayed wire, one Ellis had mentioned rarely since they’d escaped the capital.
He turned his kind eyes on the thieving couple. “Look, we aren’t going to turn you in, but Nyssa is right. There are now four of us traveling on two tickets.” He glanced from Renard to Amara. “I think our one saving grace is that we’re all roughly the same age, and Nyssa and Amara are close enough in appearance that we may be able to pass them off as the same person if we avoid close scrutiny.”
Nyssa recoiled. Amara’s bottom lip, stained a perfect red in contrast to her alabaster skin, dropped.
“You have got to be kidding,” Nyssa said. “We look nothing alike.”
Renard tilted his head to one side. “Actually, I see it. Same chin and nose. It’s kind of uncanny.”
“You’re both pretty, petite brunettes,” Ellis said. “The rest is just costuming.”
Nyssa’s face warmed. She couldn’t remember being called pretty … not since her parents died, anyway.
“A lot of costuming.” Amara sniffed. “She looks like she did her hair with a salad fork.”
Nyssa’s jaw clenched. “Shut up, china doll. I’m not the one robbing people in dark alleys.”
Amara winced and lowered her eyes.
“You said the passports are in your bag. What about the tickets?” Ellis asked. “Hand them both over, please, as a sign of good faith.”
Amara opened her purse. She held the passports out to Nyssa. Renard grudgingly reached into his breast pocket and withdrew the documents. He shifted from one foot to the other. “So the four of us will share this one room?”
“It looks like that’s our only option,” Ellis answered, pocketing the tickets.
Nyssa glanced around the tiny room. She’d been in close quarters before in her reform school, sharing a small space with a dozen other preteen girls. Still, four people, two beds.
“We can discuss details later. I’m going to find a steward, arrange for some food, and get Nyssa’s satchel and my suitcase.” Ellis rolled out the door.
Nyssa sat on the empty bed. Amara leapt forward and snatched the black handbag. Then she retreated, clutching it to her chest and glaring at Nyssa.
Nyssa swallowed a gape.
Is she suggesting I’d steal her stupid purse? I’m not the thief in the room … not anymore, anyway.
“I’m going to go help Ellis,” Nyssa said, forcing her voice level.
As she left the room, Renard’s gaze followed her, dark and suspicious. She was relieved when the door shut between them.
Once in the hall, she ran to catch up with Ellis.
“I don’t trust them,” she whispered. “They’re hiding something.�
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Ellis glanced up at her. “I agree, they aren’t the most reliable pair, but they hardly seem dangerous. What do you think they’re hiding?”
“I don’t know, but you should’ve seen Renard’s expression, glaring at me as if I were the one stealing his stateroom.”
Ellis laughed. “I’m pretty sure he’s just annoyed that he and his blushing bride won’t have their privacy for the next few days. I can’t really blame him for that. Four’s definitely a crowd on a honeymoon.”
“I guess,” Nyssa mumbled. Still, the hair on the back of her neck prickled at the thought of Renard’s scrutiny and Amara’s ferocity over her handbag.
I’m keeping my eye on those two, honeymoon or not.
Chapter Five
Nyssa sat at the end of the bed, clutching her satchel against her chest. A wheeled cart with a tray of baked goods and a pot of tea sat in the narrow space between the beds. Ellis had already devoured three muffins, but Nyssa couldn’t bring herself to do more than sip at a cup of tea.
“We can’t very well stay cooped up in this room the entire journey,” Amara said, drumming her perfectly manicured nails on her knee. “It’s three whole days.”
“Oh, we could,” Ellis said. “They’ll deliver food to the door. We’d have everything we’d need to survive.”
“Until we kill each other, at least.” Nyssa shook her head. For once she agreed with Amara.
Renard leaned into his wife, his hands tight about her shoulder as if his touch could protect her from the horror of three days confined to quarters.
“They have fancy dinners and game nights on these voyages.” Amara stuck out her bottom lip. “I was hoping to enjoy some of the entertainment.”
“Then you should’ve bought your own ticket,” Nyssa said.
Renard glared at her, and Amara turned her face away.
“Nyss is right. We have to keep a low profile. If we go out, we need to avoid the other passengers and crew—especially the crew.” Ellis set down his now-empty cup. “From my understanding, the majority of the cabins went unbooked for this voyage. I took a peek in the dining room on my way back and only counted six other passengers. It shouldn’t be that hard to keep to ourselves and still occasionally stretch our legs. We’ll just have to pretend we’re two rather than four.”
“What about making Nyssa look like me?” Amara asked.
Nyssa’s eyes narrowed. “Why do I have to look like you? Why can’t you look like me?”
“Amara’s manner of dress is more consistent with the average zeppelin passenger,” Ellis pointed out. “You own one skirt and one pair of trousers, Nyss, not exactly the wardrobe of a lady of means on a luxury cruise.” He pointed to the corner where a steamer trunk, two hat boxes, and a smaller suitcase sat. “I’m assuming Amara has enough clothes in there to outfit a theater troupe.”
Amara’s pale cheeks flushed. “Just the basics. I didn’t have much time to pack. I suppose I can find something for Nyssa to wear, though.”
Nyssa squirmed. She prided herself on her grooming. Looking clean and professional was important, after all, but to squeeze into a flashy frock like the scarlet-and-lace atrocity now hugging Amara’s curves … it just wasn’t her.
“All right. It’s only for a few days,” she said.If I have to spend more than a few days around Amara, fashion will be the least of her worries.
“And now here’s the part I don’t like much.” Ellis exhaled a loud breath. “You’re going to have to use my chair when you go out, Renard.”
Nyssa started, but Renard almost fell over.
“What? Why?”
“Because while we don’t look as alike as Nyssa and Amara, we’re still going to have to pretend to be the same person. While you can learn to use my chair, I can’t very well learn to walk.” Ellis slid out of the chair to sit beside Nyssa. “It’s not hard to use. If anyone questions why you’re suddenly lame, just say an old injury’s acting up. However, in my experience, people aren’t eager to interrogate an invalid. You should be fine.”
“How’d you end up in that chair, anyway?” Renard asked.
“It was a fight with someone who asked too many personal questions. You should see the other guy.” Ellis kept his voice flat, but Nyssa couldn’t hide a smirk. Especially when Renard recoiled. After blinking stupidly a few times, the young man’s expression hardened, and he glowered at Nyssa and Ellis.
Ellis nudged the chair towards Renard. “Simple enough, really. The chair moves forward when you engage the switch on the arm and back if you toggle the same switch the other way. The middle setting puts on the brakes. That’s all you really need to know.”
Renard settled in the chair. His feet dangled an inch above the footrest. “Is it adjustable?”
“No, sorry. I made it for my measurements,” Ellis said. “Go ahead. Take it out for a jaunt. Get familiar with it. Just try to avoid scrutiny.”
“I’ll go with him.” Amara bounced to her feet. “If I have to stay cooped up in here any longer, I’ll wilt.”
Renard tipped his hat over his eyes and rolled towards the door. Several times he bumped into the frame before finally managing to get into the hall.
Ellis winced at every whack. “I’m already regretting this.” He scooted to lean against the wall as soon as Amara and Renard were gone.
Seeing Ellis lose his means of mobility made Nyssa feel petty for fussing over wardrobe choices.It wouldn’t kill Renard to be a little more grateful. I’ve known thieves with better manners.
“I’m sure he won’t ruin it. Like you said, it’s fairly straightforward.” Nyssa slipped off her peacoat, folded it, and placed it on the bed between them. “I’ll admit, I’ve considered asking you if I could try it.”
“You should’ve. I’d trust you with it.” He ran his fingers through his dark, wavy hair. “This is going to be a long three days. Since we’re trapped here, what do you want to do? Maybe they have a deck of cards or a gameboard. I could teach you chess.”
Nyssa stood and poked around the tiny secretary desk that took up one corner. She found stationary, postcards, inkwells, and fountain pens … even a few after-dinner mints. “I don’t see any games.”
Amara’s luggage took up a quarter of the limited floor space. Nyssa tapped her fingers on the hard leather of the suitcase. Most of it was monogrammed with the initials C.B.
Probably stolen, too.
All of it appeared to be locked. “Awfully protective of her finery, isn’t she?”
“Amara was obviously born wealthy, trained to view fashion as her true calling,” he said. “I used to rub elbows with the type, before my accident and father’s madness. Daughters of his investors, mostly. They’re not like you.”
“Not like me because I’m plain and look like my hair was styled with a … what did she say? Tuning fork?”
“Salad fork, I believe. Nyss, I’m pretty sure I’ve told you that you are not by any means plain.”
“Well, I’m certainly not as flashy as Amara.” She kept her hands at her side, resisting a sudden desire to fuss with her hair.
“That wasn’t what I meant by you not being like them.” He leaned forward, his eyes earnest. “I meant you’re interesting, and useful, and you value yourself based on your actions, not your looks. Perhaps I’m judging Amara too harshly, though. I’ve only just met her. Still, she reminds me of a lot of people I used to have to pretend to like.” He cleared his throat. “So, no chessboard. What else can we do?”
She sat on the bed across from him. “How long do you think they’ll be gone?”
“As long as they can get away with.” Pulling out his pocket watch, he flicked it open. “They’ll be serving lunch in about an hour. I hope they have the common sense to stay away from that. Too many chances to be seen when we need to lie low.” He tucked the silver time-piece back into his vest, only about half-way down. The crown still stuck above his pocket lining.
A smile crept over Nyssa’s mouth. “Maybe I can teach you somethin
g.” She dusted off his shoulder with her handkerchief in her left hand while sneaking her right hand into his pocket. She withdrew with his watch, slipped it up her sleeve, and sat down.
His brow furrowed. “Okay … did I have some crumbs on me?”
She pulled out his watch, and his eyes widened.
“That’s … how …” He glanced back down into his empty pocket. “I didn’t feel a thing. How did you do that?”
“One of the first things my uncle taught me.” She handed him the watch. “He had me lifting wallets for my keep within a week of my parents’ deaths, miserable man. Still, once you learn something like that, you don’t forget it. It’s a fun trick. I used to mess with Mr. Calloway or the other girls at my school. I always returned their trinkets, but it kept people on their toes.”
“Think you could teach me?” Ellis’s eyes glinted.
“Might as well.” She took his hand. His slender fingers felt warm against hers. Resisting the urge to stroke his skin, she cleared her throat. “You need to be quick and sure, but it doesn’t hurt to have a distraction.”
“For instance?”
“The most common is to bump or jostle someone.” She sat beside him. The mattress gave beneath her, and she tipped into his shoulder. “In a crowd, especially. It’s expected to get nudged a bit, so no one gives it a second thought.” She leaned into him, then withdrew, her hand again grasping the watch.
“Clever.” He chuckled. “That thing you did with your handkerchief, is that a similar method?”
“Yes. If there isn’t a crowd handy, you need another excuse to touch someone. Imaginary dust on their shirt works well. You can also make a pretense of asking for directions or you can drop something and strike when the mark stoops to help you pick it up. Until we get your chair back, though, we should concentrate on close-quarters methods. Dusting, bumping, flirting …”
“Flirting?” He raised an eyebrow.
She shrugged. “Well, that might not work so well for you, but for lady pickpockets, it’s the surest method. It’s similar to what I did with the handkerchief, but maybe instead of brushing off your vest, I’d stroke your cheek or play with your hair.”
