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  “We’re going to take them to Cardemere in the Hummingbird,” she said. “I’ll hear nothing more of it.”

  Chapter 28

  The Moonmist was flying heavy, its cargo holds brimming with ill-gotten gains. Misty and her crew had hijacked three ships the first day of the contest and another two the second, putting her squarely in the lead. Today she wanted to take two more targets, but that would depend on how much luck they had stalking the trade routes between Cardemere and Roathea. Her bedraggled crew were wearing down after constant sailing and multiple nighttime raids; she’d heard them grumbling to one another in the bowels of the ship when they thought she wasn’t around.

  Misty’s airship had one advantage over the others, she knew; her crewmembers were on their final stroke before being dismissed from the fleet altogether. The ones who didn’t crack under the pressure would work their fingers to the bone to stay on her good side. Misty intended not only to win the competition in a landslide; she would break those who needed breaking so that what remained was the strongest, most loyal, and most dedicated crew that had ever sailed the skies.

  Being of the competitive nature she was, Misty naturally assumed her parents and siblings were driving their respective crews to the brink of madness in their pursuit of fortune and glory, as she was. The Moonmist was an airship of modest size, and thus she had been unable to take some of the larger vessels they had seen. Of course, she was altogether unaware of her family’s lack of progress. With Lily refusing to participate, Vivian going after Jonathan, and Junior trying to reunite with Vivian, the others were lagging behind.

  As for the organizer of the contest, Benedict was just as far behind as the rest of his children. It scared him how singularly intuitive his youngest daughter was sometimes. Misty had been right about everything—the contest was an effort to make up for missing out on the Justice, and it was a diversion on Benedict’s part. He had taken Gertrude on a romantic getaway and planned to finish in last place on purpose.

  Benedict had received word from Lawrence Oakshott earlier that morning that the search for Jonathan Thorpe was ongoing, but would be over promptly. It was a testament to Thorpe’s cunning, Benedict surmised, that he’d been able to avoid Oakshott this long. He could only hope Oakshott possessed the skills to finish the job.

  ***

  Dozens of black-toothed pirates stared at the hundreds of nervous passengers packing the Hummingbird’s deck. The juxtaposition of such disparate groups made for an amusing flight, Vivian thought. Thankfully, it was a short one. Cardemere was less than half a day’s trip from where the train had stopped.

  Since the Hummingbird was a wanted vessel, Vivian opted to land on a baseball diamond in a suburb outside the city and let the passengers debark there. Most of them were all too happy to be grounded again; they couldn’t seem to get away from their hosts quickly enough. While the crowds shuffled past them, Jonathan and Vivian stood at the top of the gangplank in rays of dewy morning sunshine.

  “I still don’t understand why you’re helping me,” Jonathan said.

  “You needn’t understand my help in order to accept it. Just know that I hope you find continued happiness in all your… endeavors.”

  Jonathan, unaware that Vivian had seen him entwined with Misty in her floating bedroom the week before, was confused. “Thank you… I think.”

  “Take care of her, Captain Thorpe.”

  Jonathan’s ailing mother was the only woman he had any intention of taking care of, and since that had recently become much more difficult, he could only assume Vivian’s comment was intended as some veiled threat. His anger flared. “She is none of your concern. And if you ever think to make such a tasteless statement again, I’m afraid I shall have no choice but to think rather poorly of you. In fact, I’m beginning to think I already do.”

  Vivian was surprised that her simple statement had incited such rage. She crossed her arms. “Have it your way. But know that if you hurt her, I will find you. I’ve done so once, and I’ll do it again.”

  “Why would I hurt—wait a minute. How did you find me?”

  “I paid your family a visit.”

  Jonathan was furious now. “If you laid a finger on them, I swear I’ll—”

  “I didn’t touch them. You really think I’m a monster, don’t you?”

  “To make a statement like that… you’d have to be.”

  Vivian felt a lump in her throat. “I see. Well, forget my warnings, then. Apparently you’ve got this under control. I’m sure you’ll want to be getting on.” She gestured toward the gangplank.

  “Good day, Ms. Caine.” Jonathan hefted his bag and marched down the gangplank without looking back.

  Vivian watched him go, bewildered. Was Thorpe truly so ashamed of his relationship with Misty? Maybe Misty was forcing him into it. She did have a way of forcing things. Vivian nearly went after him, but she thought better of it.

  Jonathan’s next order of business was to track down this Lawrence Oakshott fellow and confront him about Caine’s mission. Which he did—and quite easily, in fact. Turns out tracking down a killer is simple when you know where to look.

  “Hello, Manchester,” Jonathan said when he came aboard the Maelstrom.

  “That’s Captain Manchester to you.”

  “Very well, Captain. Anything strange happen while I was away?”

  Manchester shook his head. “All is quiet and we’re shipshape.”

  “Good. Your orders?”

  “What? Eh… oh. Right. Bigsby will fill you in.”

  “As my captain commands.” Jonathan bowed and took his leave.

  He found Luke Bigsby taking inventory in the supply cabin.

  “Mr. Thorpe. Good to have you back.”

  “Good to be back. Man—Captain Manchester told me you’d fill me in.”

  “Ah, yes. There’s not much to report, really. I assume you’re familiar with the duties of a quartermaster.”

  “I am.”

  “I’ve taken the liberty of shoring up the inventories. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Jonathan shrugged. “I’m not in charge anymore.”

  Bigsby nodded. “As for personnel, Tawny has taken sick and been released to hospital.”

  “That’s terrible. Will he be alright?”

  “Something stomach-wise, I believe. He’ll be fine. Also, we’ve had a new transfer. Seems with the state of headquarters in flux, the Admiral has been shifting people around.”

  “Who’s the new chap?”

  “Fellow by the name of Pelham. You’re welcome to review his papers. They’re in my cabin.”

  “Yes, I should like to see them.”

  Bigsby took Jonathan there and handed him the documents. All looked to be in order, until he began to notice a few anomalies.

  “Are you sure these papers are authentic?”

  “I’ve no reason to believe they’re not. Captain Manchester looked them over himself.”

  “But look here. See how the line is overlapping the pen ink? It’s as though the fields were filled out first and the sheet was screened over the top. And doesn’t this strike you as odd? The transfer letter is signed by the Admiral himself. His aide usually signs them on his behalf. And this shows his full name, Finnegan Farrelly, III. When he does sign off himself, he shortens it to F. Farrelly.”

  “That’s a good eye you’ve got there, Mr. Thorpe. I’d take this to the Captain at once if I were you.”

  Jonathan didn’t want to take this to the Captain. If this imposter was the man Vivian had warned him about, he wanted to take care of it himself. “Where is this Pelham chap now?”

  “He’s taking leave in the city, last I heard.”

  “Any idea where he might be?”

  “He did mention the Martingale.”

  Jonathan put the papers on Bigsby’s desk and left the room.

  “Where are you going?” Bigsby called after him.

  Jonathan was already gone.

  So confident was Lawrence Oak
shott in his ability to vanquish Jonathan that he had in fact allowed himself a brief diversion to one of his favorite watering holes, a cozy little place called the Martingale Tavern. When Jonathan burst through the door, Oakshott was telling the other patrons a joke from between the bosoms of the two barmaids on his lap. He’d been coming up on the punchline, and found the interruption most unwelcome.

  “What’s all this about?” Oakshott shouted. He stood and sent both barmaids tumbling.

  “Your dastardly deal with Benedict Caine,” Jonathan shot back, drawing his rapier. “I know who you are, Mr. Pelham. My name is Jonathan Thorpe. It would seem we have a bone to pick with one another.”

  Oakshott’s eyes narrowed. He drew. “Indeed. Then you shall taste my bone until you like the flavor.”

  The tavern fell silent.

  Jonathan thought he heard crickets from outdoors. “That was awkward. Shall we?”

  Oakshott’s blade flashed, and the duel commenced.

  ***

  Junior had been trying to contact Vivian for days. Given the secrecy of her errand, she had instructed Nellie Reeves to tell anyone who called from the Stratustarian that she was dreadfully busy and would have to bluewave them back later. Now it was time to face the music. Vivian knew her brother was probably angry, but she picked up the receiver with every intention of getting back on his good side. He was her only ally in the family, and it wouldn’t do to string him along any further.

  “Hello?”

  “Where have you been?” Junior said. “I’ve left messages with Poleax’s incompetent radiowoman every time I’ve called. Hasn’t she delivered them?”

  “I’ve been very busy, June Bug.”

  “Don’t call me that. I’ve fallen so far behind in Father’s contest I don’t know if I’ll ever recover.”

  Vivian spoke in measured tones. “Calm down. You’ve got the biggest ship in the fleet. You’ll catch up with Father and Misty in no time.”

  “So they’re in the lead, are they? Have you been colluding with them?”

  “I have no idea who’s in the lead, Junior.”

  “What have you been doing the last three days?”

  “Trying to give help to someone who doesn’t want it.”

  “Your lover.”

  “He’s not my lover. He’s Misty’s, remember? Supposedly. Anyway, forget about Thorpe. Lawrence can have him, for all I care.”

  “You sound bitter. Won’t Father make you marry Lawrence if he kills Thorpe?”

  “Father can’t make me do anything I don’t want to.”

  Junior snorted. “I’m going to be rich. That is, if you’re willing to bet on it.”

  “No,” Vivian said with a sigh. “I suppose I shouldn’t have dismissed him so quickly.”

  “Dismissed who? From what?”

  “Jonathan was aboard the Hummingbird.”

  “And you let him go? With Oakshott after him?”

  That was when Vivian realized the gravity of her mistake. Had Junior been with her, she might’ve realized it earlier. “I’m sorry, Junior. I’ve got to go.”

  “But wait. What about our plans for thwarting Oakshott? Don’t you want my help?”

  “Focus on the contest,” Vivian said. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? To win?”

  “Well… yes, but… are you sure you can handle this on your own?”

  “You know I hate it when you treat me like a helpless damsel.”

  “I’m sorry. I just can’t help wanting to protect you sometimes.”

  “You’re sweet, but I’ll be fine. Give Father a run for his money, will you?”

  ***

  Gertrude would’ve been enjoying her romantic getaway much more if Benedict hadn’t been so worried about their children. A fire blazed in the stone hearth of their cozy log cabin while snow fell in the great pine forest outside. The crew of the Cloudhopper were aboard the ship, bundled up to wait out the cold, and probably craving the end of their employers’ vacation.

  Benedict paced in front of the window, watching the snow fall. “What if Vivian runs afoul of some particularly upright sky marshals, and the Hummingbird gets taken in?”

  Gertrude lowered her newspaper. “Ben. We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves. You gave Vivian the Hummingbird because you knew she’d be careful with it. Besides, that Thorpe fellow is the only upright marshal left in the entire Regency, and I’m sure our Lawrence has dispatched with him by now.”

  “He hasn’t, though. He reported in this morning and was still in the process of finding Thorpe.”

  “Give him another day or two. I’m sure he’s got the situation in hand. And it’s time you started letting the children have a little more freedom. Let them have fun and stir up trouble. Let them make their own mistakes.”

  “When I was growing up, we never made mistakes. We always had our elders to steer us in wiser directions.”

  “Is that why you once dared your brother to lick a cactus?”

  Benedict smiled wistfully. “That wasn’t a mistake. I did that on purpose.”

  “What about the time you built a homemade cannon and blew off two of your friend’s fingers?”

  “Ah, yes. Old eight-fingers. Haven’t spoken to the rascal in years. Anyway, you’re confusing mistakes with accidents. I’ve never had an accident I didn’t mean to cause.”

  “My point stands,” said Gertrude. “The children need a little leeway to make their own… accidents. You and I won’t be around forever, you know.”

  “Oh, stop it. Of course we will.”

  Gertrude rolled her eyes and returned to her newspaper.

  Chapter 29

  The Martingale Tavern was a wreck. Patrons had flooded out through the doors the second Lawrence and Jonathan began their duel. The barkeep poked his head up every now and then to tell them to be careful; not to hit this or knock that; and that he’d call the constables if they didn’t stop these shenanigans at once. The combatants were too absorbed in their repartee to pay him any mind, however.

  Oakshott slashed at a support beam where Jonathan’s head had been an instant earlier. “Make no mistake,” he said. “I’ve every intention of killing you.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t,” said Jonathan.

  “Too late for wishes. Killing you will win me Vivian Caine’s hand in marriage.”

  Jonathan was surprised. “Will it?”

  Oakshott kicked a table over and lunged with his blade, a narrow miss. “I’ve already arranged it with Mr. Caine.”

  Jonathan slid a chair into Lawrence’s knees and ducked behind the wall of a sitting booth. “So you and Vivian have a… thing… going?”

  “Oh, yes. Vivian’s crazy about me. Has been since we were kids.”

  Jonathan wondered why, if that were the case, Vivian had gone to such great effort to warn him about Oakshott. Perhaps Jonathan had been wrong about her motives. Or perhaps Oakshott was lying. “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to kill me, Oakshott.”

  “Oh? And why’s that?”

  “Because I refuse to let you marry Vivian Caine.”

  Oakshott smirked. “You’ve got your own thing for her, have you?”

  Jonathan tried not to blush. Which was difficult, given that he was already red in the face. Everything about Vivian, from her questionable upbringing to her impetuous habits, should’ve raised red flags for Jonathan. Still, he couldn’t help the way he felt about her. There was something irresistible about her, even in the way she antagonized him. Every time he’d been near her, he’d felt as though he’d met his match—his equal. The heart wants what it wants, he thought. “I will always fight to defend a woman’s honor. There is no nobler charge in all the world. And if you were to marry her, I fear the rest of her life would be a sham.”

  Anger sparked in Oakshott’s eyes. “How dare you? Who are you to say with whom a woman’s love belongs?”

  Jonathan hefted a barstool and used it to shield himself from Lawrence’s next stab. Oakshott’s blade pierced the leather cushio
n and stuck. Jonathan tossed the stool aside and threw a left hook that caught Lawrence across the jaw. It was a solid punch; one that should’ve knocked Oakshott off balance. Instead, he gave his head a shake and yanked his sword free of the barstool.

  Jonathan’s blade was already at Lawrence’s throat. “If Vivian loves you,” he said, “then so be it. Either way, you’re going to prison. Drop your weapon.”

  Oakshott raised his hands and flicked his eyes downward at the steel hovering inches from his throat. A cool smile spread across his face. “And if I refuse to surrender? Are you going to kill me, Mr. Thorpe? I understand you’ve a tarnished service record as it stands.”

  “Well worth tarnishing further on someone so deserving,” Jonathan said.

  “You know, it’s interesting… for some reason, that strikes me as a bluff.” Oakshott spun his blade to knock Jonathan’s away, then took a step back and went on guard. “You might as well give up now, Thorpe. A man is only as good as the depths he’s willing to scour, you know. Somehow, I doubt you’re that sort of man.”

  The tavern door swung open to reveal a figure wreathed in sunlight. “Maybe not. But I am.” Vivian stepped into the darkness of the room, cutlass in hand.

  “Vivian,” said Oakshott, surprised. “How lovely to see you.”

  “No, Lawrence. It isn’t. Not for you.”

  “Why might that be?”

  Vivian marched across the room and stabbed Oakshott in the thigh. Jonathan could see he wasn’t expecting it. When he fell to his knees in pain, Vivian withdrew her cutlass and buffeted him across the cheek with the handguard to send him sprawling. She kicked his sword from his hand and held her blade to his neck.

  Jonathan stared in astonishment. “What—how did you find us?”

  “I’ve known Lawrence for a long time. This is his favorite pub in Cardemere. His father used to bring him here as a lad.”