Her boots thumped into the grass. Theo and Dankyo’s mouths moved, but nothing had been said yet. At the airship the flame blossomed into a rolling fireball. Black specks whirled in her direction. Snatching up the round lid from a rubbish bin, she swept in front of the two men. A blurred ringing fed into her ears—sound lengthened by sharp time.
The specks preceded a wave of smoke. The running men were buffeted by the shock wave, some reeling, blood spraying, as metal debris clipped them. The specks shot closer, turned into shards. She flung up her bin-lid-shielded arm before Dankyo. One, two clungs. The pieces caromed and ricocheted off. The third she dived for, arcing into the air to catch it. The chunk zipped on a whistling path straight at Theo’s head. Big as a crowbar, it struck, knocked her arm sideways.
She landed rolling, off-balance and skidding on her shoulder, scraping bits of jacket and some skin across the grass and gravel. She lapsed into real time. The explosion boom-shuddered past.
The crowbar debris chunked into the grass and stuck there, quivering. Theo and Dankyo whipped around and stared at her. Smoke whooshed past, carrying small pieces of acrid, oily ash. Safe. They’re safe.
She bent her head and heaved a sigh of relief. Where had that come from?
Theo bent half-crouched over her, hand on her head. “Are you okay?”
God, even he shook.
She nodded. “You should check for sabotage. Airships don’t explode that well.” She should know. This had been one of their lecturer’s favorite scenarios.
“True enough. Stay here. Get back up those steps, and don’t move till I come for you.” He turned his head. “Dankyo. A detail of ten men. Let’s get over there fast.”
When she made to follow him anyway as the men set off for the explosion site, Theo glared. “Stay. There.” He gestured, and two house guards crowded her.
“Come on, Miss. Up the stairs.” The guard took her arm.
Damnation. Still, Dankyo was with him.
Theo paused and fixed her with a look that said half don’t you dare disobey. The other half, a mix of pride and exasperated wonder. “Thank you.” He spun and stalked away.
It all could have been nothing more than an inconvenience and a jot of worry before the best part of the day arrived. None of the fallen men were killed or seriously wounded. Theo came back unharmed, and the explosion had, supposedly, been an accident.
Except when she’d reached the top step with the two guards behind her, a familiar yet subtle sign was affixed to the doorway. A tiny stain on the painted steel. A smell of lemon she’d forever associate with one person. With her stomach curling up like a dying animal, she felt at the hatchway frame as she stepped through. It was there. From the message bumps implanted and the distinctive odor, she could tell that Francine had been here. Her special ability would have let her breach the ship. That woman could get in anywhere given smoke or shadows.
Inkline wants to see you at the ball.
Inkline was not just alive. He was here. Her knees threatened to fail and deposit her onto the green carpet.
Panic didn’t come close. Her insides had turned to ice. When she so desperately needed logic, it deserted her. Frick, frick, frick. What am I going to do?
Act normal. Act. Normal.
When she got to the study, she pushed the door shut in the face of the house guards, turned and leaned on it, then slid to the floor.
Fate had come back to bite her. She covered her face with her hands and bowed her head. What was she to do? She bit back a moan. She’d been backed into a corner.
After wiping her eyes, she pushed to her feet, then straightened her clothes. She’d find out what Inkline wanted. First…find out what. Then decide. Maybe she could still wriggle out of this. As long as Theo was safe, she had room to move.
For the rest of the day, she struggled to appear normal. The visit to Hinchcliff and Co. was the only thing that distracted her from the growing sense of dread—the feeling she was walking into her own grave.
The clothing shop was located on one of the busiest and richest streets in the center of town. While Theo made purchases, she poked about the shop with wide eyes and a determination not to appear naive. Even the walls were decorated with accessories—whips, coils of rope and some rather suspicious pieces of machinery that reminded her of Henry’s penchant for inventing sexual toys. There were skirt and bodice sets, where the breasts were bared. Long leather frock coats teamed up with crotchless leggings. The lingerie looked like it’d been shredded by shrapnel…and there were chainmail bras and panties.
On the way past a set of knightly armor, she found it too had been curiously altered. At the groin a segmented steel cock projected outward. After one long openmouthed stare, she tried not to look again.
When they left, Theo’s house guards were burdened with several new packages.
“For you, dear,” Theo murmured in her ear.
She blushed momentarily, until she remembered what awaited her at the ball. Inkline.
Chapter Twenty-three
The steam limousine pulled up next to a bevy of blue-uniformed valets. Steam hissed, and their engine gyroscope whined to a stop. Their door was swiftly opened by one of the male valets. Theo disembarked, then reached in.