Beauty and Beastly: Steampunk Beauty and the Beast (Steampunk Fairy Tales)

by Melanie Karsak

  “I need to go. Now. We need to go. Now,” I said, turning to Papa.

  Outside, thunder rolled and lightning struck somewhere far off.

  “Isabelle,” Papa said, looking wide-eyed at me. “Is it true?”

  “It is. It is, Papa. They are all mortal. But they are cursed. I know how to save him, but I must get there before it’s too late.”

  “But he—”

  “I must go to him, Papa. I must go. Now.”

  Papa nodded. “Very well. Let me collect the map LeBoeuf prepared and get my coat. Will you need all of these?” he said, motioning to the other keys I had created.

  I looked down at the single key hanging on my chest, the perfect match to the Ogham writing.

  “No. This one will be enough.”

  “Are you sure?”

  It was a leap of faith. “Yes.”

  “Very good. Get ready then, my girl. We’ll head to the airship towers at once.”

  Chapter 32: The Deirdre

  By the time we reached the airship towers, the rainstorm had turned violent. Wind whipped, lightning cracked, and thunder rolled across the horizon. I glared at the sky. If the fey woman wanted to stop me, she’d have to drown me this time.

  Fighting against the wind and rain, we rushed to the tower lift which would take us to the airships docked above.

  “No one up there,” the tower guard said. “Weather is too bad. All the ships are grounded.”

  “Where are all the pilots?” Papa asked.

  “Over at the Hopper,” the guard said, pointing to a tavern nearby called Rose’s Hopper. The place was a popular watering hole for airship jockeys.

  “Let’s go,” I said to Papa, motioning in the direction of the pub.

  “Good luck. Only a fool would go out in this weather,” the tower guard said then headed back into the guard station.

  I frowned at the man, then Papa and I headed quickly to the tavern. Inside, the pub was packed. Airship jockeys drank, sang, fought, and jostled each other as they stood almost arm to arm in the crowded bar.

  “I’ll ask the tapper,” Papa said then headed toward the bar.

  I stood by the door eyeing over the pilots. My assessment of them at the market was right. Three-fourths of them were nothing more than scoundrels. Many of them were already passed out drunk at their tables.

  “Oi, any of you lot willing to take a flight to Wales?” the tapper called.

  The room silenced for a moment then the rowdy crowd started laughing.

  I scanned the tavern, my eyes trying to meet those of anyone who might be willing, anyone whom I could convince to help me for all the coin in my dowry.

  “My dear, we’ll have to wait until the storm passes,” Papa said.

  My eyes welled with tears. “But Papa.”

  “Isabelle, this weather is too severe. These men won’t risk their lives for us.”

  “Surely someone will take the job. Papa, please, I don’t care the cost. You saw... We must hurry!”

  Papa pulled me close to him and kissed the top of my head. “We’ll make it in time. We’ll still make it in time.”

  I wiped a tear from my cheek and looked across the tavern to see a young girl, maybe no more than fourteen or fifteen years old, give me a hard look. She then whispered into the ear of her kilt-wearing companion. They both glanced at the elderly man passed out at the table beside them, then with a nod to one another, they slid out of the booth and made their way to Papa and me.

  “Hear you’re looking for a ship,” the young man said, his Scottish accent thick.

  “Yes. We know the weather is dreadful, but it’s an emergency. We must get to Wales tonight.”

  “It’ll be a bumpy ride,” the Scotsman said.

  Hope flowered in my chest. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “And it won’t be cheap,” he added.

  “We will pay you for the trouble,” Papa told him. “We’re just grateful to find a pilot willing to take us.”

  The man laughed. “I’m not the pilot. She is.”

  We turned and looked at the girl. She was a pretty thing with brown hair, big eyes, and an expression that was far too hard for someone her age.

  “Oh. Very well. I’m willing to pay—” Papa began then leaned in close to the pair.

  The pilot nodded to her Scottish companion.

  “We’re in. I’m Angus,” the young man said, sticking out his hand, which Papa and I both shook. “That’s Lily.”

  Lily nodded to us.

  “Right, then. Come on,” the young man said as he pulled on his coat, the girl doing the same. The two of them turned and headed outside.

  Papa and I exchanged a glance then followed behind them. They were a cagey pair, but there was a certainty in the girl’s walk and expression that I knew and understood. She was not going to have any trouble flying in this storm. The storm, on the other hand, didn’t dare get in her way.

  As we approached the airship tower lift, the same guard appeared.

  “Lily, are you out of your mind?” the guard said.

  “What? It’s just a little rain,” she replied with a smirk, holding out her hand as if the torrent were nothing.

  The guard shook his head. “She’s going to get you killed, Angus.”

  The Scotsman laughed. “Lily could outrun Zeus’s lightning bolts.”

  “Where’s Fletcher? He’ll be none too pleased to discover you’ve slunk off,” the guard said.

  “Passed out drunk at the Hopper. We’ll be back before he wakes up,” Lily replied.

  The guard nodded then opened the lift for us to go up.

  Once we were inside, the girl operated the crank, and we headed up.

  The higher we got, the windier it was. It was raining in heavy sheets, the wind whipping violently.

  The lift stopped on the third platform. Once we were all out, Lily reached back inside the compartment and sent the lift back down. She turned, and we headed down the airship platform behind her.

  “Here’s the Deirdre,” Angus said, motioning for Papa and me to follow them aboard the ship. The pilot had already boarded and was climbing up to the burner basket. “You’d be best to head into the captain’s quarters.”

  The ship rocked in her berth. All around, I heard the jingling of rigging.

  “Can you get the burner lit, Lil?” Angus called up.

  “Yeah, she’ll come,” the girl replied then a moment later, we saw the glow of orange as the balloon started to fill with hot air.

  Angus began unleashing the anchor lines.

  Papa motioned for me to follow him into the captain’s cabin. It was a small space, filled with maps, equipment, and a small bench. Staring ahead absently, I sat down while Papa pulled out the map Gerard had made.

  We’re going to make it on time.

  We’ll make it on time.

  The door opened, and Lily entered. “Where are we heading?” she asked as she slipped on a pair of gloves.

  “Here,” Papa said, showing her the map.

  “An island?”

  “Yes, we must get there as quickly as possible. It’s an emergency.”

  She looked over the map, setting the coordinates on her modified compass, then turned to go, but she paused first and looked back at me. She studied my face closely then said, “Don’t worry, miss. I’ll get you there in no time.” She smiled softly then closed the door behind her.

  A few moments later, I felt the airship lift out of her berth then turn west.

  Fighting to be heard over the wind, I listened to Lily shout directives to Angus as the ship continued to rise.

  I felt the ship lift up.

  And up.

  And up.

  And up.

  And up.

  “Papa,” I said, feeling suddenly worried.

  Papa, who also looked confused, headed outside. I went to the door of the captain’s cabin and looked out. My senses were right. We were rising...quickly.

  “Trying to get above the rain,” Li
ly called. “There,” she said, pointing to an opening between two storm clouds. “Up and out.”

  “Like the clashing rocks in Jason and the Argonauts,” Papa said.

  The pilot laughed then yanked on the bell to the gear galley. “Angus, ease ten percent.”

  Papa looked from the pilot and up again. “You’ll need more lift to get up and out.”

  “Yes, I know,” the pilot called.

  “And you’ll have to reduce your lift when you break through the cloud bank or the air temperature will send us shooting up to the heavens.”

  “Is that right?

  “Yes, it is. I can man the balloon,” Papa shouted over the wind.

  “Sir, I beg your pardon, but maybe it’s better if you go back inside.”

  “My dear, I am Master Arthur Hawking. I can man your balloon burner. I am the one who designed it, after all.”

  At that, the girl laughed. “Then be my guest, Master Hawking.”

  Papa looked back at me. I nodded to him then braced myself against the doorframe. Lightning struck all around us as we quickly lifted up between the storm clouds.

  The young pilot watched everything. The sky, the balloon, the ship, the lightning strikes, the wind. Impressed, I observed her as she made her careful ascent.

  Lightning crashed so close to us that it hurt my eyes.

  “Master Hawking, increase the burn another five percent,” Lily called to Papa.

  My hands shook seeing him riding in the balloon basket. This was my papa as I’d never seen him before, my papa as he’d been when he was young. He and mother had lived the early years of their marriage more frequently aloft than on the ground.

  The wind whipped hard.

  Isabelle. Isabelle.

  “I’m coming for him whether you like it or not,” I whispered.

  Laughter rippled across the sky, buried in a crack of lightning, which struck beside us.

  The sound was deafening.

  My ears rang.

  The light burned my eyes.

  The pilot, however, had seemed to sense the bolt coming and turned the ship quickly, avoiding getting struck.

  “Jesus Christ,” Angus yelled from below deck. The door to the gear galley flapped open. “Lily, we hit?”

  “No. Close though,” she said then turned the ship, aligning it with the break in the clouds.

  “Master Hawking, twenty percent more heat. Now. Angus, stop the rudder.”

  Angus disappeared below deck as Papa turned the dials and levers. Bright orange flame shot upward, the ship rising fast.

  Up.

  Up.

  Up and through the slim gap between the clouds, which had been a moving target all the while. The Deirdre slipped right between the two banks of storm clouds just as the pilot had planned.

  A moment later, we were moving above two towers of storm clouds. The sky overhead was full of stars, the moon shining brightly.

  Papa adjusted the heat on the balloon. Hot air slipped out of a valve flap at the very top. The airship’s lift slowed.

  “Now, Angus. Full ahead,” Lily called.

  The rudder on the back of the ship began turning quickly, and the ship shot off to the west. Lily checked her compass once more, made a slight adjustment, then leaned back, smirking contentedly.

  I smiled at her, my grin reaching from ear to ear. I stepped away from the doorframe and stared up at the moon and stars. The air was so pure, so fresh. It felt magical.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said, looking back at the gifted young pilot.

  “That it is,” she agreed.

  “Thank you, Lily.”

  She inclined her head to me.

  Turning, I went to the prow of the ship and gazed out at the horizon.

  “Hold on, Rhys. I’m coming for you.”

  Chapter 33: The Key to My Heart

  The airship Deirdre descended over the island just as the first light of dawn turned the dark night’s sky pale gray. Soft yellow light trimmed the horizon. My heart beat hard as I wrapped my hand around the windup key. As soon as we were low over the garden, Lily steadied the ship. Angus emerged from below and threw the rope ladder overboard.

  “Papa,” I called, barely holding myself from leaping to the ground.

  “Go, Isabelle. I’ll be just behind you.”

  I went to the side of the ship.

  Lily extended her hand, helping me slip around the side of the ship and onto the ladder.

  “Thank you,” I told her.

  She nodded at me. “Good luck, Miss Hawking.”

  I descended the ladder quickly. When I reached the ground, I raced across the garden just as Mister Flint opened the front door.

  Tears of oil soiled his face. “Miss Hawking,” he said sadly.

  “Am I too late? Is he still alive?”

  “Barely. Oh, Miss Hawking. We had nearly given up hope.”

  I raced past him and back to the castle. I rushed up the steps, taking the stairs two at a time, to the chamber. Not waiting, I burst in.

  Missus Silver, who had been sitting at the side of the bed, rose abruptly, startled by the sudden intrusion.

  “Isabelle!” she said.

  I rushed to Rhys’s bedside.

  “Rhys. Rhys,” I said, scooping up his hand. The lights inside his optics were dim. Only the faintest flicker remained. I lay my ear against his chest. Inside, I heard a slow tick no stronger than water dripping from a leaking pump.

  The door clicked shut behind me as Missus Silver left us alone.

  “Rhys? Rhys, can you hear me?” I called, touching his cheek. To my shock, he felt like cold metal. “Rhys?”

  His optics flicked toward me and tried to focus, but there was no use. The light within was almost out. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He lifted his hand just slightly, but it dropped onto the bed.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” I said, quickly unbuttoning his shirt. I yanked the key from around my neck, kissed it for luck, then slowly slipped it into his chest. The key fit perfectly. I felt the grooves align. Taking a deep breath, I turned the windup key. I wound the key over and over, my eyes going from Rhys’s face back to the key again. He should be reanimating by now. The lights in his optics should be coming back to life.

  I wound and wound until I could wind no further.

  I looked from the key to Rhys once more.

  The lights in his optics had gone out.

  “Rhys?” I whispered.

  Slowly, I began to pull out the key. As with the others, this should reactive him.

  “Rhys?”

  Holding my breath, I pulled the key out all the way.

  There was nothing.

  Nothing.

  No light.

  No movement.

  No anything.

  “Rhys? Rhys?” I said, setting my ear against his chest.

  Nothing.

  He’d become still, cold, and silent.

  “No. No, no, no. I made it in time. This isn’t fair! I made it in time,” I yelled, knowing the fey woman could hear me.

  “Rhys,” I said, gently holding his face in my hands. Tears streamed down my cheeks. He was... He was just gone. He was nothing more than a piece of metal. “Oh God, no. No. No. Oh God, no,” I whispered, pressing my face against his, feeling the cold sensation of metal when our cheeks met.

  “Rhys,” I whispered. “Rhys, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I love you. I love you. This can’t be happening. I love you, you beastly machine. Do you hear me? I love you,” I whispered.

  Wind blew in from the open window with such strength that it made all the curtains hanging around the poster bed flutter. The air felt tingly, and I smelled the soft scents of flowers and earth.

  I looked up to see the fey woman standing there, her blue robes flying all around her. She floated above the ground in a halo of glimmering gold.

  She looked at me, my face wet with tears, then at Rhys.

  She smiled softly at me then set her hand on Rhys’s he
art. His metal body came alive with golden light. The light became so bright that I closed my eyes, turning away to shield myself from the light. The wind whipped wildly around me.

  And then, it stopped.

  The first rays of the sun shone over the horizon, filling the room with rosy light.

  I turned from the window back to Rhys to find a real, living, breathing, man lying there. His eyes were the same silver color I’d seen on the boy in the painting. He had a mop of curly black hair and a well-trimmed pickdevant beard.

  “Rhys?” I whispered.

  Reaching up slowly, tepidly, he touched my cheek.

  He winced then, closing his eyes as he gently stroked my skin with his fingertips.

  I took his hand into mine.

  “Rhys,” I whispered. “I love you.”

  He sat up slowly. Moving carefully, he touched my hair. He looked deeply into my eyes. “I love you too,” he whispered then leaned in and kissed me.

  And when I felt the press of his flesh against my lips, I knew the curse was broken.

  Chapter 34: Happily Ever After, Of Course

  “My lord! My lord!” I heard Missus Silver call from the hallway.

  In her excitement, she threw open the door and raced into the room.

  Rhys drew back, pausing to touch my chin gently, staring into my eyes.

  “Lord Rhys. Miss Hawking. Look!”

  I turned and looked back to find Missus Silver, the real Missus Silver, standing there. She had a sweet face lined with wrinkles. Her hair, a mix of black and silver, was pulled back in a bun, and her eyes were a soft blue color.

  “Missus Silver,” I said, rising.

  The woman pulled me into her arms. “Oh, Miss Hawking, I just knew you were the one,” she whispered into my ear.

  “Mama,” another voice called. A moment later, a red-haired woman who was about my age appeared at the door.

  “Bronwyn? Bronwyn!” Missus Silver let me go and raced across the room to embrace her daughter.

  From the foyer below, I heard the sound of loud cheers and singing.

  A bark sounded in the hallway, and a moment later, a very real Kelly raced into the room, jumping on the bed with Rhys.

  “Kelly,” he said, patting her ears. He set his forehead on hers.