by Geonn Cannon
The ladder swung in a wide, nauseating arc as she tried to steady herself against it, well aware that anyone in the gondola could disconnect it at any moment. She knew keeping the parachute on would provide a safety net - so to speak - but the cords might also entangle her as she climbed. She decided on the safest of the dangerous options and undid the clasps, letting the harness slip off one arm and then the other. The pack swung in one direction while she and the ladder went the opposite. Steeling her nerves, she began to climb.
It was more arduous than she expected. By the time she was level with the windows, she had a deep and burning pain across both shoulders. There was a small lip where she could precariously rest her foot as she reached for the glass. Her heart skipped a beat as her fingers curled around the edge. She had to let go of the ladder in order to pull herself inside, but fear kept her hand from releasing.
She could see inside now. One man was on the floor, his head surrounded with the shattered remnants of the water pitcher. Trafalgar was holding her ground against the other two. She parried one, spun to deflect a blow from the other while the first was recovering, and then back to the first. She was keeping them away but she was obviously beginning to flag. Rowan was huddled in one corner, eyes wide and face ashen with terror.
Dorothy threw herself over the sill into the room, turning her tumble into a roll that took her into the fray. She stood up, goggles slightly askew and hair wild from the time she’d spent outside. She grabbed the arm of one man, threw her weight against his shoulder, and spun them both toward the wall. He tripped over his feet and they both toppled. Dorothy was able to brace herself for the fall but he wasn’t quite so lucky. He crashed against the side of the table and cursed, bringing up his hands to grab her collar.
“He’s weak in the left shoulder!” Trafalgar shouted.
“Good to know!”
Dorothy grabbed his shoulder and dug her thumb in under the bone. Her opponent howled and clubbed the side of her head with his other hand.
“Bloody bastard,” she grunted, bells ringing in her skull. She rolled on top of him and sat up, planting the meaty part of her hand on his shoulder and laying her weight on him. He tried to wriggle away but Dorothy reached for the table and grabbed the book she’d been reading. She swung it at his head and made solid contact, but he didn’t even come close to losing consciousness.
“Go to sleep!” she said, hitting him again.
“Stop hitting me!”
“You’re lucky I’m not hurling you from the window.”
Trafalgar said, “Dorothy, to your left!”
Dorothy rolled off her opponent. He sat up just as Trafalgar bum-rushed her henchman toward him. The men collided, one man’s head rebounding off the other’s jaw.
“The parachute cords!” Dorothy said.
Trafalgar ran to the window and retrieved the chute. She held the pack, tossed the canvas to Dorothy, and together they bound the men. One man tried to headbutt Trafalgar but she only glared at him.
“Know when you are defeated, my friend.”
“Well done, Trafalgar.” Dorothy was breathless, her adrenaline wearing off. Her legs felt rubbery beneath her, worsened by the vibrations of the engine under her shoes. She took off the goggles and rubbed her eyes as she collapsed onto the divan. “And thank you for the assistance with the ladder. I was in the middle of debating some very unsavory options.”
Trafalgar nodded to her. “And I thank you. I was uncertain how much longer I could have held them at bay on my own. Are you positive you’re all right?”
“A bit sore, but otherwise in one piece.” Dorothy looked to the corner where Rowan seemed to be recovering from his fright. He smiled nervously at them both. “How about you, young man? Are you injured?”
“No, ma’am!” he said. “That was swell! You clobbered ‘em, just like back in Swansea!” He laughed and clapped. “This has been so grand!”
Dorothy shrugged at Trafalgar. “Well. At least we know he’s not been traumatized by the ordeal. I’ll take care of securing the unconscious fellow. Would you check to make sure Minty and the rest of the crew isn’t in need of medical care?”
“Of course.”
As she left, Dorothy gestured to Rowan. “Bring me something to tie this unconscious gentleman up with.”
Rowan looked around and grabbed a sash from the curtain. He brought it over and watched as Dorothy secured the thug’s hands. The boy sat next to the divan, hands folded on his lap. He watched her hands as she tied the knot, then looked up at her face.
“You went out the window.”
“I remember. It was quite harrowing.”
“And then you beat up that man. A-and the other woman, she beat up all the men.”
Dorothy grinned. “She’s good at that. You should see my other friend. I call her Trix. She puts both of us to shame.”
“Wow. I can’t imagine that!”
“Maybe you’ll meet her one day. After we get you home safely to your parents.”
Trafalgar came back. “A few crew members were knocked unconscious, but they’ll recover. The rest of the crew were barricaded on the bridge. I let them out and apologized to Captain Crook for the window.”
“I should probably apologize to her myself. Minty’s been fantastic, but I think we’ve finally worn out her gratitude. We may have to start paying for our trips, if just to cover the damages. Did she mention how soon we’d be landing?”
“We’re twelve minutes from the Rookery,” Trafalgar said.
Dorothy sighed. “Fantastic. Just enough time for a nice drink.”
She walked to the wet bar and opened the cabinet. She scanned the labels, chose a bottle, and poured herself a glass. Trafalgar shook her head when Dorothy gestured with the bottle, so she replaced the stopper and carried her drink back to the divan. She took a seat and sighed heavily as she sank into the cushions, one leg casually draped over the other.
“To Threnody using the strongest of cords when constructing that parachute.”
Trafalgar laughed and also took a seat. Rowan, still elated, laughed and clapped his hands. “You two are just jake!”
Dorothy lifted her glass to him and looked out the window, smiling as she swirled the liquor around in her mouth. Now that the danger was past and she didn’t have to worry about the attackers, she could truly focus on the splendor of the city passing beneath the ship.
It truly was a beautiful night.
#
The Rookery was a connected cluster of hangars on the banks of the Thames. Despite the lateness of the hour, there was a fair bit of activity on the ground as the Skylarker settled into its berth. Other airships were returning from voyages or preparing for departure. Ground crews scurried across the sprawling port. Araminta’s communications officer had called ahead to let Desmond and Rowan’s family know the boy was okay.
Minty left the bridge to join Dorothy, Trafalgar, and their young charge on the departure deck. She accepted Dorothy’s apology for the broken window but did not accept her offer to pay for its replacement. “You gave me one last day with the woman I loved,” Minty said, “and I told you my debt to you would never be repaid. I meant that. Replacing a window is nothing.” She held out one leather glove to Dorothy. “I look forward to your next trip with us, wherever it may lead.”
Dorothy shook her hand. “Thank you, Minty.”
Rowan hadn’t stopped babbling to any crewmember who happened to catch his eye. “--and then she went out the window! But her parachute got caught in the window! She was dangling over the city! An’ the other lady had to fight all three of the palookas by herself! But hoo, she was...” He bobbed and weaved, punching at the air with both fists.
Trafalgar tried to disguise her smile, but Dorothy could tell she was proud of her part in the story. The boy saw her as a hero, a feeling which in Dorothy’s experience rarely got old.
The airship successfully landed, and the group disembarked. Professor Sullivan and his wife were waiting near the dock
with Desmond, along with a trio of constables who had been enlisted to take the kidnappers into custody. Rowan brightened when he saw his parents, and the family rushed toward each other under the shadow of the Skylarker. Desmond was smiling as he approached, but the expression faded to horror when he saw the swelling on their faces. Dorothy was all but guaranteed to develop a nasty bruise on the curve of her jaw.
“What happened to you two?”
“You sent us after kidnappers, Des,” Dorothy chided him. “There was bound to be a scuffle.”
Rowan said, “It was more than a scuffle, Ma! There were killers on the airship. But the lady here, she knocked the gun out of his hand. She got knocked out the window! The other lady had to fight everyone else off by herself!”
Desmond had been watching the boy, but he snapped his gaze back to Dorothy. “I’m sorry, did he say ‘out the window’? Of the airship?”
“I had a parachute,” Dorothy said. “It was far from the most dangerous position I’ve ever found myself in.”
Professor Sullivan stood and cleared his throat, wiping a hand over his face in an attempt to control his emotions. He held out his hand to Desmond.
“Thank you, Desmond, for getting my boy back.”
Desmond stared at the outstretched hand. “Weren’t you listening? I didn’t do a blasted thing. These two ladies deserve your thanks.”
Sullivan shifted his gaze to Dorothy and Trafalgar. He didn’t withdraw his hand, but Dorothy noticed a slight curling of his fingers.
“Yes,” he finally said, “of course. Thank you, ladies, for everything.”
Dorothy smiled tightly, choosing to ignore the slight for the time being. “You are quite welcome. He’s a wonderful young man.”
“He most definitely is. And we enjoyed meeting him.” Trafalgar smiled at Rowan. “Stay out of trouble, young man. We shall be very cross if you get into trouble again.”
Sullivan lowered his voice and looked at Desmond again. “Is that a possibility? That these men will try to take Rowan again?”
“Desmond,” Dorothy said, “you may tell Professor Sullivan that it’s extremely unlikely that these men will have need of his services again, for I took the opportunity to relieve them of the map they wished to have translated.”
Sullivan looked confused. “I can hear you, you know.”
“Then you can speak to me just as well. Trafalgar and I are the ones who risked our lives to save your son. The very least you can do is acknowledge our presence.”
He huffed. “Yes. I... apologize. I merely--”
She waved off his excuses. “The map is in safe hands. If these men resurface, which I doubt they will, I shall be their target. You and your family will no longer be bothered.”
“You have my gratitude, Lady Boone, as do you, Miss Trafalgar.”
Trafalgar said, “We are happy everything came to a good conclusion for everybody.”
Dorothy looked past him, where Mrs. Sullivan was still clinging to her child. “Your family requires your presence, Professor.”
“Indeed they do.” He touched a finger to the brim of his hat before he turned and went back to them.
Dorothy said goodbye to Minty and thanked her once more for the use of her airship. Desmond straightened his jacket and fell into step beside Dorothy as she and Trafalgar walked away from the dock.
“Now, about this window incident...”
“For God’s sake, Des,” Dorothy said. “Tell me you’re not angry. This job was your idea!”
“Yes, it was,” he said. “And in the course of doing a favor for me, you could have both lost your lives. If I had known what you would be facing--”
Dorothy stopped and faced him. “Then I hope you would have come to us regardless. That young man’s life was in danger. And if his father had capitulated to their demands and the map turned out to be real, it could have been devastating. Danger is part of our job. It always has been. You saw that for yourself last year when your hand was crushed by Virago’s goon. You refused to blame me for that, so do not blame yourself for this ordeal. Am I understood?”
He looked far from satisfied, but he could tell when he’d been defeated. “If you insist.”
“I do.” They walked from the Rookery to where Desmond had left the car. He held the back door open for them and made sure they were comfortable before he went around to the driver’s side. He paused and flexed his hand, now fully-healed, and thought about Dorothy’s words before he got behind the wheel. It was one thing to know how perilous their work was. It was quite another to be content staying safely behind while they faced all the danger.
He wasn’t sure what could be done about his feelings. He was hardly qualified to stand against any of the foes Dorothy and Trafalgar faced on a regular basis. Regardless, something had to be done if he was ever going to sleep comfortably again.
Chapter Two
There were two places Beatrice Sek should have been that night, and neither of them was the cramped little flat above a decrepit tavern. She could have been watching over Dorothy’s townhouse until she returned from Swansea. The trip was expected to be short and uneventful, so she had been allowed to remain behind in London. She could have been tidying up the library or cataloging the veritable museum of artifacts that were stored in the empty house next door.
She could also have been at the Inkwell, the base of operations for the fledgling Mnemosyne Society. The tavern had become neutral ground for the disparate group Dorothy put together, a place where they could meet and compare notes. Beatrice had become the bartender, an easy enough job at a tavern with only eight customers, but she enjoyed it more than she expected to. Agnes Keeping provided the alcohol and Beatrice made sure everyone had a full glass.
Instead, she was lying in a stranger’s bed while the flat’s owner was in the other room washing up. She didn’t know why she’d left home and gone searching for a warm body. She didn’t exactly know why she’d chosen the woman she eventually went home with. Her name was Sarah. She was Asian, and she had tattoos on her arms that disappeared under the sleeves of her blouse. Seducing her was just a means to an end, a way to get her shirt off and examine the ink. It was a wasted effort, however; Sarah’s tattoos were nothing but colored ink.
She’d been seeking other people like her - “elementals,” apparently - since her encounter with the Virago, Emmeline Potter. Each one was tattooed with a symbol of the element their magic controlled. Beatrice had a tree for the earth, Virago had waves for water. There were two more somewhere, elementals of wind and fire, waiting to be found. A mystic called Dov told her that when the four were united, they would summon a fifth: void. She didn’t know what that meant, but it certainly didn’t sound like something good.
Beatrice turned her face toward the window. Outside, the lights of airships cut through the fog as they circled the Rookery. Dorothy could have been aboard one of them, on her way back from rescuing the son of Desmond’s friend. She knew nothing of Beatrice’s quest to find the other elementals. She would want to help. And as clever as she was, as ingenuitive as she was, she would make short work of the quest. When the quest ended, she would be forced to decide what to do next.
She didn’t want to create “void,” no matter what that entailed. Void seemed bad no matter what the details were. But finding the others may provide clues to who she was and where she came from. Maybe her parents were still alive. Maybe she had brothers, sisters. She needed time to decide if getting the answers was worth the consequences.
Sarah came out of the bathroom in a robe, hesitating before she moved closer to the bed. Beatrice sat up and reached for her clothes. When Sarah spoke, there was more than a little relief hidden under her scouse accent.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to stay the night...”
“I have somewhere to be. But thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Sarah sat on the edge of the mattress. “I don’t usually do anything like this. Bring someone home. Let alone a lady. I’ve... I’ve n
ever done that before.”
Beatrice didn’t tell her that fact had been evident in her performance. There was no need to be cruel. She retrieved her clothes from the floor and dressed quickly in the darkness.
“It’s probably not going to happen again.”
More relief. “Oh. Okay. Do you need me to walk you back to the pub?”
“No, I remember the way.” She paused at the door. “Thank you for tonight. It was... it was good.”
Sarah smiled. “I enjoyed it more than I thought I would.”
Beatrice said, “That’s all that matters. Sleep well, Sarah.”
She shut the door quietly and went downstairs, back out into the night. It was just over a kilometer back to Threadneedle but the night wasn’t cold enough to discourage her from walking. She quickly regretted her decision as the clouds overhead finally made good on their threat and began to sprinkle the street with a gentle but freezing rain. Beatrice tugged the collar of her jacket up over her head and quickened her pace, jogging under the trees and awnings to try minimizing the exposure. Despite her efforts, she was still soaked by the time she reached the familiar front steps of her home. She stood on the stoop to dig her keys out of her pocket but, before she could find them, Desmond’s car pulled up at the curb. She went down to greet them, now ignoring the cold fingers of rain slipping under her collar to run down her back.
Dorothy burst from the backseat with a coat in hand. She draped it over Beatrice’s head and ushered her back toward shelter. Beatrice huddled gratefully against Dorothy’s warmth and allowed herself to be ushered inside.
“Trix, you foolish woman,” Dorothy chided gently. She plucked at the soaked clothes. Trafalgar, who had followed them inside, went upstairs to retrieve towels and a robe. “Who told you to wait outside for us? How did you even know we were coming back now?”
