Charmed Vengeance (22 page)

“Oh.” Noli nodded, understanding. “Because the law won’t see what we’re doing as a good deed. We’re as guilty as those who stole the children in the first place.”

“Exactly—and the authorities will probably know where we’re headed as soon as they find the other ship, so we need to beat them to San Fran. If there are no children onboard, they can’t do anything.” His smile grew lopsided. “Sometimes there are perks to the holes in legislation.”

“I’m scared, Noli.” The little blonde girl, Rahel, wrapped her arms around Noli’s leg as Noli attempted to tighten a loose screw on the fan of the starboard engine. It was always the starboard side. At least the ship held up. But the fans weren’t and if the fans didn’t hold up the ship could overheat. She should have replaced
all
the fans when she had the chance.

Gunfire rang in the distance. Making sure the screw was tight, she tucked her screwdriver in its loop on her tool-belt and embraced tiny Rahel. The other girls slept soundly in the corner of the engine room. Fear of them being caught—or shot down—balled in the pit of her own belly, so she could hardly blame the little girl for being afraid.

“Everything will be fine,” Noli soothed, running her fingers through Rahel’s long blonde hair as a loud noise boomed behind them followed by the rat-tat-tat of a gatling gun. “Why don’t you go to sleep? When you wake everything should be over.”

She hoped.

“I want my bed,” she sobbed. “And my popi.” Fat tears streamed down her little face.

“Would you like to sleep in my bed?” Noli took her by the hand and led her to her room, trying to think of a way to make her happy and quiet before she woke the other girls. Again. “Look, you may sleep in my hammock.”

Rahel peered into the dim room and made a face. “You sleep
there
?”

“It’s actually quite comfortable.” Noli helped the little girl into the hammock. “Here’s a pillow and blanket.” She tucked the little pillow under Rahel’s head and covered her with the green blanket. “You may even hold my doll.”

Rahel took the offered doll and fingered her red curls. “What’s her name?”

“Charlotte,” she replied without a thought. The ship shook and the engines made a noise of protest. “You go to sleep. I’ll return to check on you.”

Rahel closed her eyes and nodded. Noli caressed the little girl’s cheek then ran back into the engine room just as something boomed in the distance.

Steven gripped the bolted-down table in tiny common area as Hayden’s Follies rolled, the entire ship tilting to one side as everything not secured slid around, creating a merry mess. A slew of gunfire punctuated the evasive maneuver, every
rat-tat-tat
of the patrol’s gatling gun sounding as if it would pierce the hull and shoot him.

Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. Apparently
flying decoy
meant that they drew the patrols away from the other ship.

The ship rolled in the opposite direction, things continuing to fall, his knuckles whitening as he held on, not wanting to join the loose objects. A large boom radiated from the back of the ship and they took a nosedive, throwing him forward. He stopped when his body hit the wall, the breath knocking right out of him.

“Pull up, pull up,” James shouted from the bridge, gunfire continuing to be exchanged.

“I’m trying, but we’re going to crash,” Hattie yelled back. “The best I can do is land us in a place they can’t get to.”

Rubbing his head, Steven gulped. Being caught by patrols was bad. The kind that meant jails and aethergraphs to Quinn.

“Hold on,” Hattie yelled. “We’re about to kiss the ground.”

Something between a boom, a screech, and a wail filled the air as the entire craft shook. Steven was thrust forward again. This time he put his arms out in front of him. Pain shot through his left wrist.

“Everyone keep still,” Hattie ordered when the craft stopped shaking.

An eerie silence blanketed the ship as the engine went quiet. They could hear the engines of the other ships. It was so quiet they could probably hear the thunder of his own frantic heart. Steven crept toward the bridge where Hattie looked as if she literally held her breath. Finally, the sound of the engines disappeared. He breathed a sigh of relief that made his entire body shudder.

“What now?” Steven whispered from the doorway.

“Being downed air pirates in Deseret isn’t a good thing,” Hattie whispered back. “We get out, survey the damage, and pray we get ourselves back in the sky before the MoBatts spot us.”

“What about the Vixen’s Revenge?” James asked from the gunning station, a trickle of blood leaking from his lower lip.

Hattie shook her head slowly. “We pray they got away and get into safe airspace with no further problems.”

They stood in front of the small craft, the sun rising above them. Certainly, the wilds of Deseret Territory were beautiful, with the snow-crested rocks and mountains. Never had he seen such colors, at least not in this realm.

“What’s the damage?” Hattie asked Hittie.

The corners of Hittie’s lips turned down, the deep and disturbing frown seeming to permeate throughout her entire wiry form. “Fortuna smiled on us … sort of. It’s purely structural. They missed the engines. But how in Hades are we going to fix a broken tail and the breeches in the hull? If we can even find the tail.”

The schooner was made of wood and metal. Hmmm … Ignoring everyone, Steven placed his hands on the bullet-riddled hull. Yes … that could work. What about the tail? Moving over to the tail section, he examined it. If they could find the rest he just might be able to reattach it.

“Captain, if we repair the tail and the holes in the ship we could get to San Francisco?” A plan formed in Steven’s mind. Getting to Rahel before the rescue ladies alerted Dr. Heinz was still priority—and they couldn’t do that grounded in enemy territory.

“We could … in theory,” Hattie replied slowly, nodding as if doing so made the words more true. Certainly they wouldn’t last long if they couldn’t get airborne.

“Good,” Steven replied. “Why don’t you two find the rest of the tail? James and I will start on the repairs.” The sisters stood there, blinking as if he’d spoken in tongues.

Hittie’s arms crossed over her ample chest. Skepticism etched every inch of her face. “You mean
you
can repair the ship?”

“I think so.” He looked at James. “Right, James?”

James’ forehead furrowed, clearly not understanding what he meant. “Um, sure.”

“That gives me so much confidence,” Hittie huffed.

“Noli’s an ace engineer and I’ve been her chief assistant since we were children, I’ve learned a few things over the years.” Hopefully that would be explanation enough. “I can’t make any promises, but we have just as much reason to get back up in the air as you.”

Hattie toyed with the ends of her braid which had come unpinned at some point. “True … ” She looked to her sister. “We don’t have anything to lose.”

“You wreck my ship I wreck your face,” Hittie spat. “Let’s see if we can find the tail.” The two sisters retreated in the direction they’d fled from.

James came up beside him, eyes dancing with amusement. “What exactly is your plan?”

Despite the bone-chilling cold, Steven rolled up his sleeves so he could work. “We’re
earth court
. The ship is made of
wood.
”

“Are you mad?” James hissed, eyes going wide. “We’re not supposed to use magic unsupervised in this realm.”

Steven laughed. Now James wanted to be sensible? “Right, like you’ve ever paid attention to that. We’ve been using a
tracking spell,
remember?”

“That’s different. You want to
use magic
to repair
someone else’s ship?
While they’re
here?”
His voice rose in pitch, cracking a little, eyes widening, and cheeks flushing.

“James, if we don’t get there when the Vixen’s Revenge does, we won’t get Rahel, which means we won’t get the automaton, which means we’re back at square one and we’re running out of time.” He met his brother’s eyes. “If you have a better idea I’d love to hear it.”

“You look and sound
so
much like father right now.” A smile tugged at James’ lips.

Terror seized Steven’s chest as his hand went to his forehead. “I do? I’m
so
sorry.”

James chuckled and shook his head. “Better you than me. All right, let’s see what we can do … I’m not really good at this sort of magic.”

Steven put his hands over the breech in the hull nearest him. “Let’s give it a go.”

“Sure. I’ll take the other side, you take this one?” James jerked his head toward the other side of the little ship.

“Sounds good.” Steven’s attentions returned to the hull in front of him. The bullet holes were mostly superficial. It was the hull breaches he needed to repair so they could get airborne. Time to survey the damage. Magic tingled through his fingertips as he probed the breech and gently manipulated the wood to close the fissures. It was a slow, tedious process. He kept needing to stop and stamp to warm himself and blow on his hands. Finally, the breach closed and he breathed an icy sigh of relief. One down, one more to go … on this side. Then the tail.

When he’d finished both he found James peering at him, cheeks red from the cold. He whistled. “That’s nice work, too nice.”

“What do you mean
too nice?”
His fingers traced the breech as he scowled at his brother. “You can’t even tell.”

“Exactly. They won’t believe we plugged it if it looks perfect. Here, look at mine.”

James grabbed his arm and led him to the other side. Obvious repair lines marked where he’d merged the wood.

“I didn’t even mean it, but then I’m not as good as you.”

“It’s patience you lack, not talent,” Steven replied. “But I see what you mean, that’s a good idea.” The idea of marring his beautiful handiwork still made his belly churn.

“Really?” James brightened so much Steven wanted to put out his hands to warm them.

“Yes. Let me fix it. Why don’t you see how many bullets you can pull out of the hull and repair what you need to. Hopefully the women will return soon—with the tail.” They’d have to find some way to get the women out of eye-shot so that they could repair the tail, which would be a similar process.

Steven returned to his side of the hull and carefully, artfully, made his perfect work look marred—like James, but more deliberate. He’d just finished when he heard the sound of female voices and something being dragged.

His heart leapt. If they could get up in the air soon they might still be able to arrive in San Francisco around the same time the Vixen’s Revenge did—and get Rahel.

“Need some help?” he called, running to join them, James on his heels.

“Titties on a fish, it’s cold out here,” Hittie called back, breath coming out frozen.

They joined the women and took the heavy tail section from them and dragged it back to the ship. The battered tail piece was worse for wear, part of it broken, but better than nothing.

“You two did this?” Hittie stared at the hull in disbelief, jaw hanging open as if she didn’t quite understand what she looked at.

“You have to admit, they did an ace job.” Hattie flashed James a comely look.

James gave her a large grin. “We do what we can. You have to admit, it
is
cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey out here.”

Steven scowled at his brother’s vulgar language.

He ignored him. “I know being women doesn’t mean you automatically know how to cook—but we can’t cook
at all.
Steven burns water. Anyway, maybe you could make us all some coffee and we’ll get this fixed so we can get back up in the sky?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” Hittie stamped and blew on her hands. She turned to her sister. “Coming, Hattie?”

Hattie shot James another long look, this one through veiled lashes. “Are you sure we can’t be of assistance?”

“We’re fine—something warm to drink would be the best help of all,” James replied.

The way James said that sounded almost … naughty and Steven looked away.

“Suit yourself, we’ll return.” With a final wistful look, Hattie followed Hittie into the little ship.

Well, that was elegant. Certainly he’d never get away with saying anything like that. Hittie would probably smack him. Hard. With a loaded pistol.

“Help me?” Steven asked his brother. “This is a two man job. One to hold, one to fix.”

“I’ll hold,” James volunteered.

“Good.”

James held the tail and Steven worked to fuse it to the back of the ship. This proved much harder and the end result wasn’t nearly as neat as his repairs—but again, the imperfections were probably for the better. Being sound mattered more than appearance anyhow.

Above him an automobile engine sputtered.

Hittie and Hattie ran out of the ship, pistols drawn as the shadow of a flying car, a Dragon model by the looks of it, flew over them. Unlike Noli’s bat-winged, bugged-eyed Pixy, this flying car looked more the beast. Giant leather wings, twice the size of the Pixy’s and shaped like dragon wings, flapped. The loud sound sliced through the cold and quiet air. The car was an odd shade of green; the shape of the hood reminiscent of a dragon’s head, complete with large headlamps for eyes.

“Do we signal them for help?” James hissed.

“We don’t know if they’re friend or foe,” Hattie warned, pistol still drawn.

Something felt wrong. Deseret was large, the sparse population clustered, leaving vast stretches of open land. They’d taken care to avoid civilization.

The
rat-tat-tat
of a gatling gun had everyone ducking behind the ship for cover.

“Hells bells,” Hattie hissed, firing her pistol at the Dragon.

“That’s not a patrol ship—no one, not the MoBatts, not the air patrol, not the military uses flying cars as attack vehicles.” Hattie fired again, using the tale of the ship as a blind.

James ducked behind the ship as the flying car buzzed them, sending out another spew of metal bullets as they clanked against rocks, dirt, and the hull of the ship they’d just repaired.

“I say, you’d think they’re trying to kill us,” James hissed.