Part 17 (1/2)

There came a metallic clicking. The nails rose up from the crate. They hovered around Athena in a cloud. London almost lost her hold on the jibsheet. Each instance of magic astonished her. Perhaps it would always be that way, as though continually finding a hidden door in the same ordinary room and opening it into another world.

Athena continued to chant. Then, moving like a swarm of bees, the nails darted off, narrowly missing Bennett, Kallas, and the sails. London watched as the nails shot across the water, toward the Heirs' s.h.i.+p.

”Now what?” London asked Bennett.

He trimmed the mainsail as Kallas steered them out of the bay and into open water. ”We keep running like h.e.l.l and hope her distraction works.”

London fervently prayed that it did. She would have to face her father eventually, but she hoped it would not be today.

”Christ, can't this s.h.i.+p go any faster?”

The steams.h.i.+p captain, already sweating behind the wheel, could only shrug at Joseph Edgeworth. ”My men are stoking the fires as quick as they can,” he said.

”We'll lose them!”

”But they're under sail, and we have steam.”

Still, Edgeworth wasn't satisfied. He slammed out of the wheelhouse to stand at the rail. They were so d.a.m.ned close! A bra.s.s spygla.s.s showed the tiny form of London moving about the deck of the caique. Edgeworth nearly dropped the spygla.s.s in shock to see her actually helping to hoist the sails. No genteel lady ever performed such manual labor-he'd made sure London knew that. It had to be a measure of how beguiled she was by Bennett Day that not only was she helping the Blades to escape, but she was doing physical work. Unless she was wearing gloves, her hands had to be mangled pieces of flesh.

He had to get her away from Day. The longer she spent with him, the more tainted she became. As her father, he'd set her back on the right path.

Edgeworth let out a breath of relief and lowered the spygla.s.s as the steams.h.i.+p closed the distance. It wouldn't be long now.

Fraser stomped up beside him, just as eager to catch the Blades. ”What the h.e.l.l is that noise?”

”The engines,” Edgeworth snapped.

”Steam engines don't buzz,” Fraser shot back, then, remembering to whom he spoke, added deferentially, ”sir.”

The crewmen on deck began shouting and pointing in the direction of the caique. At first, Edgeworth thought they indicated the boat, but then a strange dark haze caught his eye. He raised the spygla.s.s again. It was headed straight for them.

”h.e.l.l,” he spat. He shouted over his shoulder, ”Chernock!” When the sorcerer came out on deck, Edgeworth said, also pointing at the thick, moving haze, ”What the devil is that?”

”Whatever it is,” Fraser gulped, ”here it comes!”

The men all fell to the deck as a cloud of sharp, pointed objects darted overhead. They flew around the deck with a harsh whir. Crewmen threw themselves to the ground, s.h.i.+elding themselves from the objects. They moved too quickly for anyone to see what, exactly, they were, but those too slow to protect themselves wound up with angry, bleeding sc.r.a.pes across their faces and hands.

”The Golden Wasps?” Edgeworth yelled to Chernock. The tiny, deadly a.s.sa.s.sins had been used with great success by Heirs in the past. Except for that time in Southampton, when Gabriel Huntley miraculously survived an encounter with the Wasps. But he was the rare-and troublesome-exception.

”Not nearly as elegant,” the sorcerer answered. ”A crude enchantment.”

”Crude or not,” Fraser shouted, ”it's heading below decks!”

”Well, stop it, whatever it is!” Edgeworth said to Chernock.

The sorcerer rose up in a crouch and lifted his hands to begin a spell. But it was already too late. Men's screams and shouts rose up from below, and within a moment, sooty-faced crewmen came running up on deck in a panic. Red burns dotted their skin.

”The boiler,” one yelled. ”These...flying things...shot right into the boiler and tore it apart! d.a.m.ned thing almost exploded!”

The paddle wheels began to slow, then they stopped entirely. An awful silence fell over the s.h.i.+p.

Edgeworth hauled to his feet. ”Raise the b.l.o.o.d.y sails,” he snarled at the captain.

The captain gave the order, but it wouldn't matter. By the time the sails were hoisted and the s.h.i.+p fully under the power of the wind, the caique would be long gone. Edgeworth could only stand at the railing and watch, fuming and helpless, as his daughter disappeared over the horizon.

Through his spygla.s.s, Bennett saw the steams.h.i.+p lumber to a dead stop. He grinned.

”h.e.l.l of a job, Athena,” he said. ”What did you do?”

No answer.

”Bennett!” London cried.

He turned around and saw London on the ground, cradling a pale and motionless Athena. Immediately, he was on his knees beside them, s.n.a.t.c.hing up Athena's limp hand. The witch breathed, but shallowly. Kallas, stuck at the wheel, looked on with a concerned scowl.

”Perhaps Chernock has cursed her,” Bennett said.

London frowned in confusion. ”Chernock? That awful crow?”

”He's a sorcerer,” said Bennett. ”Uses dark magic for the Heirs.”

London paled briefly in horrified surprise. ”I didn't know.” She stroked Athena's brow, smoothing back the strands of dark hair that clung to her damp forehead.

The witch did not stir.

”There's brandy in the quarterdeck house,” Kallas said.

Bennett fetched the drink, then put it to Athena's lips. He carefully dribbled in a few drops of the brandy, but they slid from her mouth.

”What's wrong with her?” London asked. ”Dark magic?”

”Don't know,” Bennett said, grim. ”I don't think she's ever cast such a directed spell before.”

London rocked Athena gently, as if she were a baby that needed soothing. ”It must have taken something out of her.”

”It took a h.e.l.l of a lot out of the Heirs,” Bennett said. ”Whatever she did, it stopped them.”

”Get to the sails, Day,” Kallas growled. He began to turn the wheel, redirecting the boat.

Getting immediately to his feet, Bennett trimmed the mainsail. ”Where are you taking us?”