Chenda and the Airship Brofman (7 page)

Daniel took a small step back toward the balcony door. “I knew it was just a matter of time until I could make my revenge.” Triumph brimmed in his eyes. Daniel shuddered, and then he focused on Chenda again. “As it turns out, I'm not the only person who wanted Edison dead. Since I was going to kill him anyway, it seemed so perfect that I was approached by someone in the city who wanted the same. Why not get paid for what I was going to do anyway?”Daniel frowned and shuddered again, as if his thoughts were wrestling within him and knocking him around from the inside. “Revenge and enough money to start a new life. It sounded like a great deal. Revenge for my father and mother, I have that now, but I only get paid if I can come up with the stones. I knew you would eventually lead me to them.”

Chenda sat on the bench in shocked silence. She watched, open mouthed, as he moved backwards another few steps. Never turning away from her, he grabbed the chair from the dressing table and propped it against the bedroom door, ensuring that no one could enter from the hall, and Chenda couldn't run out. He pulled a large bottle out of his pocket, pulled the stopper and started slinging a strong smelling liquid around the room, dousing the dressers, the bed and the floor.

“Chenda,” he said, his eyes clearing of his insanity for a moment. “I am sorry.”

As quickly as they had cleared, the crazed fury filled his eyes again. Daniel leaped toward Chenda, and she felt the full impact of Daniel's weight into her side as the knife pierced her flight coat. The stabbing blow knocked her backwards, over the bench and onto the floor on the far side of the bed. All of the air left her lungs as the pain in her side shot out in waves. For several seconds, she could not move or breath. Crumpled on the floor, she could not see Daniel, but she heard his animal-like snarl and the sound of a match strike. The whoosh of flames dancing to life came next, and still, Chenda could not make her lungs pull in air. She clawed at the knife handle in her side and discovered that it had come free from her body, but was stuck somehow in the coat. It dawned on her that one of the many hidden buckles had caught the knife, keeping the long blade from fully entering her body. She could feel sticky blood flowing from her side, but the wound didn't feel too deep. The buckle had turned the force of a killing stab into a solid punch that had merely knocked the wind out of her.

 After what seemed a choking eternity, she drew in a little air and rolled onto her side. She tugged on the knife again, finally freeing it. She saw Daniel hunched over one knee, rifling through her carpet bag as the flames rose around the room. He picked up Edison's pocket watch, admired it for a moment and moved to put it into his own pocket.

Chenda's mind flared with the rush of her own blood.

He stabbed me!

He's left me to burn!

He killed Edison!

Without another thought, her body started to move. In a single maneuver, she stood, stepped forward and swung the knife in a two handed arc. The blade sank deep into Daniel's neck. His body arched backwards, a hand flailing for the knife. Daniel's spasm knocked Chenda backwards onto the floor. The fire leaped around her as she struggled away from Daniel's thrashing body. She smelled burning hair and realize it was her own. She beat the flames around her face with her bare hands as she crawled toward the open balcony door; it was the only bit of floor left that wasn't burning. She checked herself for a moment, leaning her back against the carpet bag, brushing her burnt hands around her head checking for any more fire. She glanced back at Daniel, lying still on the floor, flames licking his motionless body. During his thrashing, he had dislodged the knife from his neck, and it lay on the floor next to Edison's pocket watch. Chenda reached forward, her hands shaking, and snatched the knife and the watch from the fire. She shuffled back onto the balcony clutching the objects to her, the knife ready to defend against another attack, and the watch suddenly feeling like a protective talisman – a bit of Edison to comfort her panicked mind. The skin across her knuckles had gone pale white, and each drop of Daniel's blood showed clearly across her hands. She could feel the burns on her palms, and the sticky dull ache in her side, but these pains seemed to be borrowed, like they belonged to someone else, and weren't hers to bear.

The flames grew hotter, engulfing everything in the room: the bed she had shared with Edison, her dressers full of fashionable clothes, his picture on the bedside table, the space they lived and loved in. Their life together was burning away. The raw heat pressing against her bloodied face pushed her back, further onto the balcony. She pulled herself to standing and threw the carpet bag over the rail. Tucking the knife into her pouch-belt, Chenda threw her legs over the railing and eased herself down into a squat. She dangled for a few seconds from the edge and then dropped to the walkway below. The aeronaut boots absorbed some of the shock from the fall, but Chenda rocked backwards, and instinctively, she threw her hands back to catch herself. As her burned palms scraped along the rough walkway, she screamed in agony.

She wanted to faint, to lie there and cool her burns and bruises on the chilled paving stones, but a small part of her brain screamed at her:
Get up!

The voice in her head kept getting louder.
GET UP. Daniel may not be alone. You are not safe. GET UP!!!

Chenda shook her head to drive away her daze and crawled along on her elbows. Pressing her shoulder to the wall of the house, she pushed up with her legs and then staggered to her feet. As she took in mouthfuls of cold fresh air, her thinking cleared. She had to run away. By his own admission, Daniel was not working alone. She wasn't sure who else was a danger to her.

Ignoring the pain in her hands as the handles bit into her burns along her fingers, she picked up the carpet bag and ran for the tree line just past the south end the house. Several yards into the thick woods, she looked back. Smoke was pouring out of all the windows on the second floor. The belching flames illuminated the house staff as each servant ran out onto the lawn. Alme screamed as she saw the fire sparking out of her mistress’s window, and she fainted into the arms of the gardener.

Chenda wanted to run to the plump woman, and tell her not to be frightened, that she was alive and just fine, but her feet didn't move. She was held firm by that part of her brain that sensed the danger in revealing herself.
Hide, and bide your time. You are not safe.
Step by step, Chenda melted backwards into the woods.

An hour before dawn, Chenda arrived at the nearest trolley stop and boarded the first car that stopped there. The pain in her hands made fishing the fare out of her pouch-belt a flaming nightmare. It was all she could do not to scream. She eventually made her way downtown and into the university district. Finally, she reached Candice's apartment.

Chenda knocked weakly on the door frame and waited. Nothing happened. She knocked again, this time with all the strength she had left. She even kicked the drab door for emphasis. She swayed slightly as she stood there, tears of despair and exhaustion building in her eyes. When the door finally opened, Chenda fell through it.

“Gods above!” Candice squawked as she dove toward the floor to grab Chenda's limp body. “What happened to you?!” She reached under Chenda's arms and pulled her toward the small sofa. Candice knew she would never be able to lift the girl onto the couch, so she pulled several pillows and a cushion onto the floor and propped Chenda's back up against them. Chenda moaned and let her head fall backwards to rest on the seat, her arms flopping to the floor. Candice looked down into the young woman's face and gasped! She jumped away from her companion and raced back to the door, pulling the carpet bag in from where Chenda had dropped it and securing the lock. Chenda watched as Candice raced back across the small living room and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Candice...” she whimpered. In what she hoped was a safe place, Chenda finally gave in to the pain. Tears rolled tracks through the soot on Chenda's cheeks. She was sobbing as the professor reappeared with an armload of supplies and a large glass of water.

“I'm coming, deary. Just hold on,” Candice said in a motherly tone as she tried to decide where to begin. "Drink," she ordered, pressing the glass to the girl's lips. Between spasms of tears, Chenda sucked in the cool water, and it pushed some of the smoke out of her aching throat. With each swallow, she could feel Daniel's weight on her neck again. She shuddered.

“Let's peel you out of that coat and then you start telling me what happened.” Candice slowly unbuckled the flight coat and eased the younger woman's shoulders free. She held Chenda's head as gently as a mother would hold a newborn, and eased her back onto the cushions. As Candice threw the flight coat over her book laden coffee table, she gasped at the dark scorch marks and bloodstains.

“Man alive! What happened to you?”

Through her rears, Chenda recounted the events of the evening. Candice moved her hands over Chenda's body, checking for broken bones and assessing her various other injuries. Listening intently, the professor did her best to disinfect the knife wound over Chenda's ribs and tape it closed. As Chenda recited Daniel's confession and the start of the fire, Candice did her best to gently clean the sand and cinders from Chenda's hands and wrap them in bandages. She wiped the blood from Chenda's mouth and neck as the girl spoke of pulling the knife from her own side and plunging it into the neck of her attacker.

When she finished her story, Chenda leaned her head back against couch. The professor laid a cool, damp cloth over the bruised and swollen side of the young woman's face.

“Wow.” Candice said weakly. “I mean...wow.”

“I killed him,” Chenda whispered. “I killed Daniel.”

“No, honey.” Candice stroked the side of Chenda's face that wasn't bloodied and swelling. “He died trying to kill you. An important distinction, I must say.”

Chenda gave a disbelieving shrug, then winced. “I hurt all over.”

“You need some rest,” she said. With gentle hands, Candice helped Chenda to her feet and guided her into the bedroom. She pulled off Chenda's boots and covered the young woman with a blanket. Candice turned to tip-toe out as Chenda's eyes started to close.

“This doesn't change anything. We're still going.” Chenda mumbled.

“I know,” Candice replied, leaning against the bedroom doorframe. “We sure as hell can't stay here.”

Chapter 5

THE DEAD WALK AWAY

It took all of one minute for Chenda to fall into a deep sleep. Candice watched her for a few moments more then headed into the living room to have a good think.

Candice long believed that occupying one's hands with menial tasks freed one's brain to pursue practical thoughts.  As she sorted through the facts from Chenda's story, she set about putting her living room back together. She stacked the pillows and cushions back on the couch, then she pulled a trash can over to discard the bits of bloody bandage and tape. The smell of smoke that stuck to Chenda's hair and clothes lingered in the air. Candice picked up the flight coat from the coffee table and examined it, running her hand along the scorch marks on the back, and around the bloodstain inside, just under the left armpit. Chenda's blood.

“Someone up there must really be looking out for you, kid, because this could have been so much worse,” Candice said to herself as waggled a finger through the knife hole.  “We are in so much trouble.”

Candice added up the facts – the poison in her office, the attack on Chenda, Edison's murder and the fact that every known holder of a Tugrulian pedradurite in the West was dead –  and decided that staying in Coal City, or any part of Kite's Republic for that matter, was cold stupid.  Both she and Chenda seemed targeted. It wasn't great, but their only choice was to flee from a rock to a hard place. Perhaps the only way out of this mess, for both of them, was through.

Candice sat on the threadbare couch for several minutes, fuming at Edison.  It felt strange to accuse Edison of being both right and wrong to keep such vital information from his young wife. On the one hand, Edison fulfilled his role as a husband, shielding Chenda and protecting her for as long as possible. But, on the other hand, he had in no way prepared her to go forward. Why not equip her with the knowledge that she would need?  It was blind luck that the girl hadn't died already.

Candice glanced at the clock. In a few hours, the two women would be boarding an airship, and Candice needed to take care of a few things.  She decided to risk a journey out into the city and left a note for Chenda promising she would be right back.  Silently, the professor slipped out the door.

As she passed the corner newsstand, Candice saw the headline of the early edition:
Frost Widow Dies in Fire

She snatched up the pages and threw a coin at the vendor. She stood in the middle of the sidewalk reading the story:

Just two days after the funeral of her husband Edison Frost, the body of Mrs. Chenda Frost has been found in the remains of the couple's estate home just north of Coal City. The Frost mansion burned to the ground before dawn today.

Mrs. Frost's housekeeper Alme Taylor says that the lady of the house was in at the time of the fire, which, according to witnesses, originated in the area of the master bedroom. The remains found in that room are assumed to be hers. Officials believe the blaze may not have been accidental, and are currently investigating the....