Bork charged one of the two invaders left standing, biffing him on the nose with excellent boxer’s form. Tasherit, in a whirl of silk and angled legs, lashed out, turning the last one into unrecognisable pulp with a combination of kicks and punches. She looked like some exotic urn of fine wine, but she fought like an old tankard full off beer, rough and mean and likely to curdle one’s innards.
“Tie them up! As tight as you can.” Rue thought quickly. “Get them downstairs and locked in the stateroom. Leave a guard with a crossbow and barricade the door. Do we know how long those numbing darts last?”
She looked to the twins.
“I just shoot them.” Prim took the opportunity to dial down the parasol and holster it at her side.
“And beautifully, too. Thank you for my part,” Tasherit, helping to truss up the miscreants, practically purred at her.
Primrose blushed.
Percy was focused on his navigation. “Ask Quesnel. They’re Lefoux make. He should know the expected incapacitation duration for each susceptible species.”
Someone tossed Rue a robe. They kept them stashed around the deck these days. Everyone was learning that with both Rue and Tasherit on board, it was better for everyone’s peace of mind if robes were handy. And meat snacks. Although in the heat, meat snacks went to pong easily.
Now that the immediate danger was eliminated, everyone ran to other defences. They were low on crossbow bolts and the Gatling was out of bullets, but the enemy didn’t know that. The remaining attack dirigibles had drifted away, presumably to recoup.
“Oh dear Floote!” Rue tied her robe and remembered. “Tasherit, are you good up here for a moment?”
“Better than. They’re out of range and they’ve no way to board. Ay looks to be moving into position over them. Might be able to drop a couple hot braziers onto those oiled balloons of theirs. Could use Anitra to ask… Oh, I suppose she’s with her grandfather?”
“I’m going to see.” Rue made her way down the main stairs, dreading the inevitable sight of Floote’s old crumpled body. She hadn’t known him long but he’d seemed a decent sort. Knowledgeable. Useful. Agreeable. Loyal even.
There was no crumpled body. There was a smear of blood on the bottom step.
Rue glanced around, confused, and then took two steps to the open hatch that led to the boiler room. She stuck her head in, looking down the spiral staircase.
The muzzle of something deadly stuffed itself into her face.
“Only me.” Rue pushed it aside.
The weapon lowered to show the very white face of a sickly Quesnel, who was propped up against his chaise on the observation platform in such a way as to have a clear shot out the hatch.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Rue was instantly worried. He was practically grey and shaking slightly.
“Rue, you’re alive! What’s going on up there?”
“We were boarded by my cousin and some cronies and it looks like they’ve been after me all along, not Tasherit. The twins came to the rescue with those darts of yours. Thank you for that.”
“What?”
“Quesnel, darling, love of my life, I am in a bit of a hurry. Things are happening. I’ll explain all the details later. Mruuffph!”
Quesnel grabbed her with shaky arms and kissed her fiercely. She wouldn’t have thought he had the strength. And frankly, he didn’t really. He was leaning against her for support. It was absolutely glorious.
“I want details on the love of my life part, too.” He pulled back, still greyish but grinning like a fool.
“If you insist. But later, please? Now, where was I?”
He kissed her again.
“True I was there, but… oh, yes. Any idea how long they hold? Those darts of yours?”
Quesnel looked like he very much wanted to kiss her again, and while Rue thought that was a splendid idea, she couldn’t afford to get further derailed.
“On normal humans, about an hour.”
Rue helped her lover back into his makeshift bed. “And on a soulless?”
Quesnel blinked.
“The aforementioned cousin of mine is a Tarabotti.” Rue fluffed Quesnel’s pillows, fussing about him because what she wanted to do was pounce on top of him and kiss him senseless. Given his weakened state, if she did pounce, he would likely indeed lose consciousness.
“Oh. Oh! Um, should be the same. Preternaturals have normal mortal human chemistry, you know, apart from the lack of soul.”
“Excellent. And now Floote. Is he okay? Did…??”
Quesnel’s face fell. “Anitra brought him down. It wasn’t a direct shot but it’s pretty bad. He’s too old for that kind of thing. Even older than you might think. The shock likely did it. Heart attack or something. I’m afraid he’s dead.”
Rue bit her lip in sympathy. “Oh, poor Anitra. Did he… was there… a remnant?” Rue had never witnessed an unbirth. As with normal births, they were not something an unmarried lady ought to observe.
“Yes.”
Rue pressed a glass of barley water on him. “Does he wish for the ghost holder or should I provide transitive services?”
Quesnel sipped, making a face, but his colour improved. “What do you mean…?? Oh, I forgot. Metanaturals can perform exorcisms.”