Epilogue
Simon
I leaned back against the pillows in my bunk, lulled by the soothing, nearly inaudible hum of the Invincible’s engines, and thought of our trip thus far. Really, it had been quite eventful, as I’m sure anyone would agree. Far more interesting than a trip to Brighton or Margate Sands.
Earthquakes.
Bandits.
Witches.
Magical boxes and cursed books.
Distasteful Frenchmen.
Delicious French women.
Not for the first time, I felt we’d fallen into an issue of Abigail’s favorite reading material, the penny dreadful. Yes, I admit it—my own favorite too.
I touched the tender spot on my chest with an inquisitive finger. Little more than a bruise was left from the ghastly hole Abigail had insisted she’d seen.
I had not dared tell her I had felt the bullet entering my flesh, could still recall the exquisite agony spreading through me, remembered the darkness threatening to envelope me, held at bay by nothing more than the touch and the voice of a lovely golden-haired goddess.
I shook away the image. I only wished I could force the memory to depart as well.
But we had left danger behind us now, surely—at least for a time. What could harm us, floating above the clouds, with my darling Abigail at the controls of her own airship? Our next stop was the island of Malta. I had never visited the place, and I was looking forward seeing it, with Abigail on one arm and Cynara on the other.
I slid down in my bunk and closed my eyes, the better to dream…
“Drat!” I heard my favorite voice say through the thin partition between my cabin and the bridge. “Where did I put that blasted map?”
How could I help but smile? All was right with the world.
My world, at least.
About the Author
Cynthia Gael is enamored of Victorian England, high tea and wide feathered hats. She has been known to wear cinched leather corsets and high-topped boots, and rap cheeky gentlemen smartly on their knuckles with her fan. She can hold her own in any discussion about English history, Jules Verne, H.G. Wells, Bram Stoker, airships, steam men and the penny dreadful. Sadly, she does not truly exist.
Actually, Cynthia Gael is the pen name of two writers. Cynthia D. Witherspoon writes Southern Gothic and paranormal romance; she has won various awards and her work has appeared in numerous anthologies. K.G. McAbee writes fantasy, pulp, science fiction, YA and mystery; she also has won awards and has had more than a dozen novels and nearly a hundred short stories published. As Cynthia Gael, they have written short stories in several genres; the Balefire series, paranormal urban fantasy; and the Brass Chronicles, their steampunk series for Carina Press. Visit www.cynthiagael.com for more information or email [email protected].