“But it would be better if we had the airship,” Joseph muttered. He shook his head. “What if we must make another escape like Marseille? This balloon has been invaluable to us so far, and I do not want to abandon it if we can help it.”
“Well,” Allison inserted hesitantly, “we can assume this Marcus fellow is at least a day or two behind us, no? A boat cannot possibly cross the Mediterranean as quickly as an airship. So you could feasibly fix the balloon and still reach Giza before him.”
“Except for the money,” Oliver reminded. “And I do not think we can convince this man that donating his fuel is a worthwhile investment.”
Investment. The word jostled around in my brain . . . and then solidified into an idea. “Investment!” I gripped at Allison’s hands. “That professor you mentioned—we could find him! You could collect your debt, and we could use the money to repair the balloon.”
“You mean Professor Milton?” Allison’s eyes widened. “B-but he probably isn’t around any more. And even if he was, I haven’t the faintest idea where to begin looking. Clarence’s detective found him at . . . at some hotel. Shepheard’s, I believe.”
“Shepheard’s?” Oliver asked, eyebrows rising with interest. “You are certain?”
“No!” she wailed. “It was a year ago, and I wasn’t very interested. And who knows if he is still there after all this time?”
“Well, Shepheard’s is in Cairo, Miss Wilcox. It’s, uh . . .” Oliver waved a mosquito from his face. “It’s a hotel where all the Westerners stay, and if your professor is still in the area, it’s very likely he would stay there. Someone at the hotel will surely know.”
Joseph folded his arms over his chest, his face screwed up with concentration. For several moments, the only sound was the wind in the grass, the huffing of the donkey, and the groaning of resistant gondola floorboards.
“I suppose,” Allison mused aloud, “that if we went into Cairo, then we could also get Miss Chen a scarificator.”
Joseph remained silent, but his eyes twitched.
“And,” Allison went on, an undeniable layer of syrup in her tone, “we could find turmeric to thin her blood. Perhaps we could also find fresh bandages for you, Mr. Boyer.”
Another eyelid twitch. Then Joseph nodded once, his eyes coming back into focus. “All right. It is decided then. Allison and Oliver . . . and you as well, Eleanor. You must go to Cairo and try to acquire enough funding for fuel—or possibly find a cheaper fuel source.” Joseph’s gaze settled on Oliver. “Perhaps you could find transportation into the city.”
My demon nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips, and strode off toward the Egyptian and his donkey.
“And I,” I said, holding out my wounded arm for Allison, “will let you bind this cut. It stings like the dickens, and the flies simply will not leave me alone.”
Once my arm was cleaned and bound up, there was only one thing more I wished to do before leaving the airship. One person I wished to see.
Because now that my magic had worn off, now that we were all so happy to be alive, and now that I had almost lost him, I was ready to say what needed saying. Now was the right moment for me. Finally.
I found Daniel in the engine. Half the floorboards had been ripped out and tossed to one side, and his blond head was hunkered over a vast array of valves, tubes, and gears.
I knelt at the edge of the planks. “Daniel.”
His head whipped up. Grease and sweat streaked across his cheeks. He looked absolutely himself.
“Look.” I extended my right arm, now wrapped in bandages. “Old-fashioned healing at its best.”
Slowly, his lips spread into a grin. His forehead relaxed, and his eyes crinkled. “I’m glad.” Wiping at his face, he rose to his full height—which brought his eyes level with mine.
And the awkwardness took over. Unflinching and unafraid might work well for him, but I suddenly felt very exposed.
So I dropped my gaze as I forced the proper words to come. “Back in the woods, you asked me why I could not promise to never save you again.”
He swallowed. “And?”
“And . . .” I bit my lip. This had really seemed quite easy to say in my head. “And the reason I cannot promise is . . .”
His face tightened as if bracing for the worst. “Yes?”
“Because I am in love with you.” The words blasted out, and I cringed. Then, to make it all the more mortifying, I stupidly added, “Too.”
“You’re in love with me,” he repeated. “Too.”
“Too.”
His face relaxed, and his eyes flicked to my lips . . . then to my eyes . . . then back to my lips. “If it’s all right with you then . . .” He moved slightly closer. “I’m going to ki—”
A tremor shook through him.
“Daniel?” I grabbed for him, alarmed. But the shudder subsided—and with it went all the discomfort of the moment.
“Are you ill?” I asked.
“I’m fine.” He exhaled through his teeth. “Just . . . just a chill. Nothing to worry about.” In a quick, easy move, he hopped up and twisted around to sit beside me. His legs hung into the open hole, and I swung my legs forward to mimic his.