by Anne Renwick
“You had his papers.” Zheng’s eyebrows drew together. “He killed your father.”
“And would have died,” Ian spat, “after sharing all his secrets.” Not entirely true. Given the option, he would have preferred for Warrick to end his days in a dank, dark cell. He gripped the hilt of his sword tighter as Zheng slid his hands into his sleeves of his tunic and withdrew a matching pair of wide but short—no longer than his forearms—swords. “I would rather proceed with your cooperation, but I cannot allow the device to fall into the hands of the Russians. As you decline an alliance…”
That was all the warning Ian received before Zheng attacked, shouting as he charged up the stairs. Both knifes spun in his hands, slicing through the air.
Steel clanged against steel and stone as Ian focused upon defending his position, of deflecting the unfamiliar slashing and hacking motions in the narrow confines of the tower stairs.
Zheng’s short blades—perfect for fighting in tight, close quarters—and his unusual blade work quickly cut through Ian’s defenses. A slash, a stab, and blood welled on his arm. But not before he managed to draw Zheng’s blood as well—his tunic gaped open and a trickle of blood ran down from a small cut at his neck.
With a growl, Zheng altered his grip. Ian modified his defense strategies, and the fight clamored on.
“Gentlemen,” a voice interrupted from below. “Please. I must pass.”
Katerina. For once a welcome distraction. Again, she wore riding attire, black leather from head to toe, layered with a fur hat and cloak. In her hand she held his metal case containing his osforare apparatus.
Zheng spun to face the new danger, but spread his arms wide to keep a blade pointed at both threats. “You need me, Lord Rathsburn.” He threw the words over his shoulder. “Admit it. Together our countries can stop Russia’s imperial aspirations.”
He tried to imagine Queen Victoria agreeing to an alliance with the Chinese emperor. The woman deferred to no one, and she certainly wouldn’t appreciate Ian negotiating on her behalf. Except…
“That case she holds,” Ian said. “Without it Queen Victoria will refuse to receive us.” Zheng’s blade lowered a fraction. Ian stepped closer. “And the countess is a Russian spy who once plied her trade on British soil. What a gift you could present to the Queen.”
“Turn around, Countess.” Zheng pointed both blades in her direction. “Tonight we board my dirigible, not yours.”
Ian raised his blade and smashed the hilt into the base of Zheng’s skull. He crumpled against the wall. Pointing his sword at Katerina, Ian said, “Set down the case.”
“I am not in the mood for an argument, Lord Rathsburn.” Katerina straddled Zheng’s unconscious form, pulled a knife from her boot and slit the man’s throat. As blood gushed onto the floor, she wiped the blade on Zheng’s tunic. A kick with her booted foot sent him tumbling down the stairs, a gruesome trail of blood in his wake.
Great aether but this woman is cold.
“I regret ever suggesting to Otto that he invite a Chinaman into our home. That man was nothing but an impediment from the day he arrived, unnecessarily complicating everything with his irritating loyalty to my husband.” She raised her eyebrows. “Have you finally made the sensible decision to accompany me? I will make it worth your while.”
“Set my case and your weapon down, and I will let you pass.” They both knew it for the lie it was. “Flybys are swift and fleeting.”
“My pteryform will wait.” She slid the blade back into her boot and lifted a pronged weapon from her hip. “Russia needs a scientist such as yourself. I’ll ask once more. Will you join me?”
The weapon she pointed in his direction was oddly reminiscent of a salad fork. Uneasy at its benign appearance, he took a step backward and upward. “I’m afraid I must decline.”
She did not follow. “Bigamy? Or a trip to Russia?”
“Both.”
“Your loss.” She aimed the strange weapon and fired. He threw himself against the wall, but in the confined space—
An intense pain radiated through his arm, twisting and spiraling down to his wrist, his hand, his fingers. Every muscle convulsed. His sword clattered to the ground. Ian stared at the gelatinous strand that stretched from his arm to her weapon. It glistened in the torch light like… a tentacle?
Fighting to draw breath through the pain, he bent, reaching for his weapon.
“Ah ah,” Katerina warned as she advanced, pointing her weapon at his abdomen. “Leave the sword on the ground. The cnidoblast of the sea comb contains enough poison to paralyze a grown man. A direct hit to the diaphragm, and you will stop breathing. Olivia will arrive soon, and it would no doubt distress her to learn of your death.”
“Olivia?” he breathed out.
“Oh, yes. The poor, misguided fool followed you. Stay where you are, cause me no more trouble, and I will let you live. Once I’ve extracted your secrets from the device and her bones, I will ransom her. The Duke of Avesbury will pay handsomely. I wonder what secrets he would be willing to part with to see his daughter safe.”
“Olivia is gone,” he insisted through gritted teeth, praying that this time she hadn’t ignored Black’s direct orders. “She is safe.”
“Safe? The way she keeps running after you, meddling in your affairs?” Katerina laughed. “If she persists in this business, please see that she receives some proper training. Her external ascent of the tower leading to the docking platform is lacking in both subtlety and finesse.”
“She’s here? Upstairs?” he gasped. The pain slowly crept over his shoulder, tendrils reaching out toward his throat. Please, no. But when had Olivia ever taken the safe path?
“Mmm. The poison seems to be affecting your hearing.” Katerina kicked his sword. The blade clattered and clanged, scraping down the steep stairs until it stopped with a dull thud against Zheng’s body. She turned sideways to pass. “Yes. Olivia will soon reach The Roost. Goodbye, Ian. I wish you had agreed to accompany me. As it is, I’m afraid I must ensure you do not try to follow. Do keep up the good work. I look forward to stealing your next discovery.” She shifted her hand and discharged her weapon again. This time in his thigh.
Ian howled, then cursed as the pain shot through his knee and threaded across his hip, coiling about his lumbar vertebrae. His spinal nerves screamed the pain all the way to his toes as his legs collapsed beneath him.
“Until next time.” Katerina blew him a kiss, then ran up the stairs.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
ALMOST THERE. The stone balcony was only some five more feet above her head.
She paused in her climb as that blasted pteryform soared past. The beast had plagued her during her entire ascent, relentlessly circling the castle, growing more agitated the closer Olivia grew to The Roost. She hoped the creature’s presence meant Katerina—and Ian—were still within.
Her arms and legs ached. The dragon claws only enhanced grip. This activity was not at all suitable for a lady who spent most of her life attending one social event after another, let alone one who’d recently had an arm broken and healed.
Three feet. Two. One.
She brushed a good two inches of snow away from the balcony’s edge, then swung a leg over the stone wall and rolled onto the ground with a whimper of relief. Not only did her body ache, but between the biting wind and the icy snow that had pelted her during the climb, she was frozen to the core.
Pushing her goggles onto her forehead with the back of her hand, she unbuckled the dragon claw from her right hand and reached deep into her pocket to drag the nightingale forth. She tossed him into the air and watched him flutter about as he settled upon a metal downspout, before wearily shoving herself onto her feet.
“Stop right there,” said Katerina. She was dressed entirely in form-fitting black leather and fur. The outfit was arresting, but even more so was the strange weapon she pointed at Olivia. In her other hand was the osforare case. Where was Ian?
“Hand over the case and t
ell me the name of the man who introduced you to Warrick,” Olivia demanded, as if it would be that easy to convince a Russian spy to do her bidding. “Then I will let you go.”
“You are quite adorable, Olivia,” Katerina smirked. “No wonder Lord Rathsburn was so thoroughly charmed. So much so that he has declined to accompany me to Russia. You will go in his stead.”
Her stomach turned. As she feared, Katerina must have waylaid Ian for he’d never agree to such a plan. “What did you do to him?”
“He’s alive. As per my orders. No wasting a brilliant mind, not when he might still be recruited. Particularly with you to entice him, all round curves and golden curls.” Katerina tipped her head. “You’ve been very useful. Distracting the lord, the count. Wei and Zheng. Programming the osforare apparatus. You could be more than a biological specimen, more than a hostage. I could mentor you. In Russia, the tsar does not let beauty blind him to a woman’s abilities. To marry or not, it would be your choice.”
“No, thank you.” She would not betray her country or her newfound love.
The wind reached a furious pitch, blowing Katerina’s hair into a wild tangle about her head. Far, far above several pteryformes flew toward a wide, dark shadow that took shape midst the driving snow. The Russian storm frigate calling them home?
The pteryform that had been circling the castle opened its beak and let out an ear-splitting screech. From the dark clouds above, it dove toward them, its wings beating against the night. She squinted as the beast soared past. A saddle was strapped to its back, a harness wound about its head and leather reins flapped in the wind.
“Her name is Sofia,” Katerina said. “Yes, I see you eyeing my winged daughter. Not everyone can ride a pteryform. If they sense weakness, any weakness, they simply turn their head, pluck you from their back, and drop you to the rocks below. While we are airborne, hold tightly to my waist.”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are. You will go with me, peacefully.” Katerina narrowed her eyes. “If you do not climb onto Sofia behind me, you will force me to violence. Take a close look. This weapon I’m holding? Comb jellyfish poison. Even Ian was unable to fight off its effects and collapsed upon the stairs. You, on the other hand, might fall off a balcony. After which Sofia and I will swoop to the ground and sever your arm at the shoulder joint. I have been assured that a fresh bone or two will satisfy my scientists’ requirements. Understand?”
Blood drained from her head, leaving her dizzy. She understood Katerina all too well. She swallowed and nodded. Time was short. Her mind raced, searching for a solution.
“Good,” Katerina said. “Now, take off that ridiculous claw, it’s time to leave.”
As the pteryform circled back around, Katerina holstered her weapon and raised her arm in the air, making a fist of her hand. The pteryform screeched again, beating back with its wings, altering its direction. It stretched out a leg with sharp talons to grip the iron bar mounted to the stone balcony. It folded its leathery wings and swung its head toward Katerina expectantly.
She hoisted herself onto the balcony and reached for the reins.
It was now or never.
Whistling the tune Wei had used against the count, she sent the nightingale in Katerina’s direction. It was only a tiny bird pecking the Russian spy’s head, beating its small wings about her eyes, but it provided just enough distraction.
Katerina turned her head, hunching against the unexpected annoyance, and Olivia dove for the metal case, slamming into Katerina’s side as she ripped it from her hands. The Russian spy lost her footing on the icy railing and fell over the side of the balcony with a scream of frustration. Dangling from the leather reins attached to the pteryform, she yanked her weapon from its holster and pointed it at Olivia.
“Give it back,” Katerina demanded.
Oliva held the case over the railing. “If you shoot me, I’ll drop it. I can build another, but you will need more than my arm to reconstruct it. Now, tell me the name of the man who introduced you to Warrick.” Her father traded in information, and Olivia would have several demands upon her return. Assuming she survived the next few moments.
Katerina swung a foot over the railing, hooking it with the crook of her knee. She was coming back for the case.
The pteryform screamed with displeasure, throwing its head from side to side.
Olivia grabbed Katerina’s ankle with the dragon claw, flicking her index finger to ensure a tight, unbreakable grip. Then she shoved her backward, holding the Russian in the air, slung between the reins attached to the pteryform and her claw. “I want a name!” Olivia yelled. She needed to know. “Tell me!”
“No.” Katerina’s jaw jutted in defiance.
With a roar of frustration, Olivia flung the metal case at the pteryform’s head. She missed, but managed to strike the creature’s shoulder. As the case tumbled to the rocks below, the pteryform flung its head backward and spread its wings, launching from The Roost, ripping the leather strap from Katerina’s grip.
Olivia held on with all her strength, her feet skidding across the icy balcony and slamming into the stone banister as Katerina fell backward, downward to slam against the castle wall. The sudden stop all but yanked Olivia’s shoulder from its socket, and the muscles of her thighs strained to keep her from toppling over the railing.
It would be so easy, so very easy, to flick her wrist and send the Russian tumbling to her death. Instead, she reached with her free hand to grab the woman’s other boot.
Far above, a shrill blast sounded.
“Let me go!” Katerina howled, kicking at her.
“Are you insane?”
“I said, let me go!” and the woman fired the odd weapon she held.
Olivia screamed as a flash of burning pain sliced through her shoulder. Every muscle spasmed in her arm, rendering it useless. But her arm was still attached to Katerina’s boot and with every kick, she slid further over the balcony.
“Don’t be a fool,” Katerina yelled. “You’ll fall with me. Let go!”
“I can’t,” Olivia yelled back.
“Hang on!” Ian called behind her. Then he was there, dragging Katerina upward and onto the balcony. But the Russian would have none of it; she lashed out, kicking at the hands and arms that held her ankle even as he drew her close to the balustrade.
~~~
“I can’t move my arm,” Olivia yelled.
Fighting through the intense pain, Ian had crawled, step by step toward her voice, arriving in time to see the silvery-white strand lash out and wrap itself about her limb.
“I have Katerina,” he yelled. “I’m going to release the dragon claw. Ready?”
Olivia bobbed her head.
Holding tight to Katerina’s ankle, he slid his hand down her arm, to her wrist and flicked the claw free. The sudden release of tension sent her staggering backward to sag against the castle wall.
She was safer there, away from the ledge.
Overhead the pteryform beat its wings, circling, crying her displeasure.
He turned his attention to Katerina. “You want me to let go?” Ian bellowed into the wind that pelted icy snow at his face. “I’ll let go.” His fingers were growing numb; if the spy wanted to be dropped to her death, he would cheerfully oblige. “But first answer her. Give me the name.”
Katerina twisted and kicked.
“Last chance!” If he went through the effort of hauling her in, he would make good and certain she landed in a British prison.
“Darby,” Katerina yelled. “Now let me go!”
He released her ankle—and stared in amazement as Katerina tumbled though the air only to land on the outstretched wing of her pteryform. She scrambled onto the creature’s back and into the saddle, taking up the reins as if this were a much-practiced move. Probably, it was. The air cracked with the powerful beats of the beast’s wings, and they disappeared into the swirling snow of the storm.
He turned. Olivia was gasping for breath, hand pressed to
her throat. Rushing to her side as fast as his still-anesthetized leg would allow, he lifted her with his good arm and dragged her into the relative warmth of the tower room.
“Can’t… breathe…” she wheezed.
“It’s the jellyfish poison,” Ian said. He ripped the tentacle fragments from her neck, flinging them aside. The muscles of her throat were constricting, cutting her off from air. He reached into his waistcoat pocket and dragged out his vial of veritasium. Part muscle relaxant, it should work. Except he had no syringe. “Stay with me.”
He dragged her against his chest and snapped the vial’s narrow class neck. Using its sharp edges, he made deep scratches into the skin of her throat and trickled the veritasium into the bleeding cuts. “Keep breathing, Olivia,” he commanded her as her breathing took on a particularly strident tone.
With horrible rasping sounds that almost stopped his heart, Olivia dragged in a breath. Then another. And another. He pressed his lips against her hair, waiting. Agony tore through him at the thought that he might lose her. There would be no recovering from such a blow.
Finally, her breaths began to come easier.
“Zheng?” she wheezed against his chest.
Tightening his arms about her, he let go of a breath he’d not realized he was holding. “Dead,” he answered. “It’s just you, me and a number of terminally ill guardsmen we need to cure before we can leave Germany.” No point in trying to convince her to leave without him. He’d wanted a strong, loyal woman, and he’d found her. He smiled. Rather, she’d found him. Now, it was up to him to find a way to keep her. “We’ll head for the mill, as soon as we can manage the stairs.”
Chapter Forty
“DON’T BE RIDICULOUS,” Mother chastised her nearly three weeks later over tea. Her needle plunged in and out of the silk fabric she held, her fingers gripping the embroidery hoop so tightly her knuckles were white. “I strongly advise you allow me to cancel Lord Rathsburn’s afternoon audience with your father. You are being foolish. The best course of action is to marry Baron Volscini.”
