Suzanne Lazear - Charmed Vengeance

It took a moment for Vix’s words to penetrate Noli’s brain. Her jaw dropped. “No…that’s not why at all… how…”

“It happens—more than you think, even among society girls.” Vix’s shoulders relaxed, her expression returning to her usual cool one.

“No … no, that wasn’t it at all.” Anger welled up inside her. “First of all, he’d never do that. Second of all … ” Embarrassment replaced her fury. “We never …” They’d never done that for that precise reason.

For a moment Noli thought Vix might sneer at her lack of experience, or worse, think she was lying or that she was some dollymop who irresponsibly did things with boys.

Instead, Vix nodded, face devoid of judgment. “I needed to ask.”

“It might be difficult to fix engines when you’re in the family way.” Noli tried to smile.

“In that time that you … disappeared … did anyone … hurt you?” She didn’t sound completely sure of herself, but didn’t avert her glance as if embarrassed. “We don’t know what happened to you, and well, Jeff is worried.”

Noli bristled, remembering the conversation she’d overheard her first night on the ship. “No one hurt me … ”

Not in any way that left marks on her body. Some of the punishments at Findlay House left marks on her soul. The feeling of water pouring down on her face still made her heart race and caused her to gasp for breath.

“Where did you go? Jeff thinks you were kidnapped.” Familiar notes of disbelief tinged her voice.

Noli sighed. How would she explain making a wish, falling into the Otherworld, and Kevighn trying to get the magic to bind her as the sacrifice?

She couldn’t. Not to her mother. Not to Jeff. Certainly not to Vix. Speaking about the Fae and the Otherworld would cause them to think she had gone round the bend … and if she wound up in an asylum …

It was difficult not to shudder.

Vix looked at her expectantly. Noli groaned inwardly. There was only one way to get out of this, since it looked as if the captain required an answer.

Noli tried to plaster her face with an expression both spoiled and wounded. “I …I don’t want to talk about it.” The rawness in her voice was surprisingly real as her eyes met Vix’s.

However, that was the truth in so many ways. Not only couldn’t she tell anyone here the truth, but the events, from the wish to her losing her mortality to Charlotte’s death, tore at her soul. The very memory made her regret everything she’d done since April—especially the joyride in the Pixy which had put everything in motion.

No, she couldn’t bear to think about so much that had happened let alone talk about it.

Even V didn’t truly understand her pain and regret— or how hard she struggled to maintain the sliver of self that remained. V. She clutched her roses and sniffed. Where were he and James? What were they doing? Oh, how she missed them, missed him.

A sigh hissed from Vix’s lips. “You don’t want to talk about it? You were missing for months and you don’t want to talk about it?”

“No, Captain. I’m sorry, but I don’t.” As she exhaled her entire body shuddered.

Vix shot out of her chair, her persona of irritated ship’s captain fully returning. “I don’t know what to make of you.”

Making an exasperated noise, she marched out of Noli’s room, the door closing behind her, without so much as a backward glance.

Noli couldn’t expect her to understand. No one understood—except V and James and Charlotte. They were gone. All of them. Leaving Noli all alone.

Noli changed into her nightdress and slippers. Braiding her hair, she covered it with a cap, not caring that air pirates didn’t sleep in bonnets. Her arms wrapped around her pot of roses she climbed into her hammock, pulled her blanket close, closed her eyes, and fell asleep to the off-kilter song of the engines, wishing everything had happened differently.

The air pirate who’d abducted Steven and James, Igan or something, sneered at them from the other side of the bars of the brig. “End of the line, you two.”

Steven’s pocket watch said it had only been about twelve hours. Still, he had a sinking feeling that they’d gone twelve hours in a direction opposite North Carolina.

“Thank goodness, I’m starving.” James shot up off the floor.

Steven rubbed his arms against the chill, stomach growling in protest. “Where are we?”

He prayed to the Bright Lady that they weren’t in the middle of nowhere.

Igan’s eyebrows arched, a smirk playing on his crooked lips. “If you were left on an island with only one item— any item in the world, what would it be?”

His heart lurched. An island? However, he couldn’t think of any island twelve hours from Chicago via airship.

Igan reached through the bars and smacked Steven. “Answer me.”

“My pen,” Steven replied, not really thinking, face stinging.

James eyed Igan. “Trousers.”

Igan pointed a pistol at them. “Strip, the both of you, shoes too.”

Neither brother moved.

The sound of a pistol cocking ricocheted through the hold.

“I said strip. I might not be able to kill you princes— but that doesn’t mean I can’t relieve you of some body parts.” He gave them a mad grin, eyes gleaming, as his pistol focused on a region Steven wanted to keep free of bullet holes.

Steven and James removed their clothes, shoes, and socks. They were tied up and frog-marched at gunpoint down to the cargo bay by the rest of the unsavory crew. His heart pounded and his belly clenched with apprehension.

One of the unwashed air pirates opened the hatch. Steven couldn’t see what loomed on the other side but frigid air blast through onto all his bare bits.

“Out you go.” Igan cut their bonds then unceremoniously shoved them through the hatch.

Gritting his teeth, Steven prayed to the Bright Lady this ended well. A second later he hit the ground, hard, scraping his bare flesh. He looked up and saw the airship hovering above them, the sound of wind and engines roaring in his ears.

Igan waved at them from the ship, eyes dancing with mad delight. “Have a good quest.” He threw something at them. “Here’s your pen.”

Steven watched as his pen skittered across the strange triangular surface they’d landed on. He viewed his surrounds in a three-hundred and sixty degree turn and saw nothing but darkness. Wind whipped at his hair. Where were they?

“Hey, you said one thing. Where are my trousers?” James yelled up at the ship.

“These?” Igan dangled James’ trousers out the hatch then tossed them to the wind. The crew laughed maniacally as they flew out of reach and off the side of the building. The hatch snapped shut and the ship departed.

Steven stood, bracing himself in the still-present wind. He sucked in a sharp breath as he peered down at the lights of city below—far below—still busy even in the dark of night.

“Flying figs.” James stood beside him. “We’re in New York City. I’d know that skyline anywhere.”

“Language, James,” he snapped. They’d been dropped on top of the tallest building in sight. The winter wind nipped at him, goose flesh breaking out across his exposed skin. Steven picked up his pen, which became a sword, but was little help to them currently. Steven peered around the dark roof. “Any sign of your trousers?”

James shook his head sadly. “Let’s get off this roof.

Um, James, we’re naked.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, we are, genius. Which is why we’re turning into icicles. We need to get off the roof before the air patrol comes to investigate, get ourselves some clothes, and figure out what to do next.”

“So you propose we simply walk into the building stark naked.” Shivering, he wrapped his arms around himself. It was nice to see the old James returning. Still, part of him would rather turn into an icicle than be found naked by passersby.

James shrugged and held out his hands in an empty gesture. “You have a better idea, because I don’t know about you but I’m turning blue.”

Try as he might, a better idea didn’t come to him.

He couldn’t believe they were going to walk into a building in New York City in the nude. James had a point—they needed to get off the roof before they were found by the air patrol. Now that would probably end with jail and aethergraphs to Quinn, given they had no money, identification, shoes, or clothing.

Steven surveyed the skies looking for hovercops. None, yet. He thanked the Bright Lady that the way into the building was unlocked and thanked her again that the slight warmer stairwell it led to also stood empty. Still, he braced for discovery at any time.

James opened the door leading to the floor.

“What are you doing?” Steven hissed, clutching his pen and glancing around as if someone might appear out of thin air and drag them to the police.

“It’s late. I’m sure everyone’s gone home. Might as well start on the top floor.” Without even poking his head out the door first to look both ways, he strode into the hall as if he wore a suite of the finest clothing indeed of … nothing.

Steven hurried to keep up with him.

“Look for clothes, money, too.” James disappeared into an office.

In the darkness of the empty hallway she stood there, blinking. If only he could be as free as James. Also, the idea of stealing made him uneasy. However, they needed clothes. What choice did they have?

He crept toward the big double doors at the end of the hall, heart thumping so loud James could probably hear it. Gulping, he tried the knob. Locked. Sending out a tendril of magic he saw a flash of green and heard the lock click. He tried again. This time it opened easily.

Being earth court had its privileges. His gifts ran more toward plants and trees than metalworking, but this was easy enough.

Noli seemed to do well with both. Then again, she always had.

Giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness because he was afraid to turn on the lamps, he surveyed the room. No, this room didn’t appear to hold anything useful other than treats in a crystal bowl on the desk.

Wait, the coat rack in the corner held an overcoat, a top hat, and a walking stick. Perfect. Nevertheless, they may look silly walking down the streets of New York with no trousers.

Strangely shaped offices lurked behind the waiting area. One by one, Steven poked through them, noting mentally that one had a morning coat and another, galoshes. He walked into another office. The desk held a neatly folded suit. Shoes sat on the floor.

Had the Bright Lady answered his prayers? She did work in mysterious ways.

Next to the suit sat a note. Jillian, 6 pm. Don’t forget the ring. Underneath the note was an address. Just his luck the occupant had brought a nicer suit of clothes for his evening on the town with his lady. Hopefully, he remembered the ring.

Mentally apologizing to the man meeting Jillian, Steven pulled on the trousers, shirt, vest, tie, and coat, feeling a little strange wearing someone else’s clothes. They were meant for daytime, the waist a little big and the sleeves long. This man also had a larger neck, but it was infinitely better than going naked. The shoes weren’t a bad fit, even if there were no socks.

The last office had a pointed end and offered a spectacular view of the city but only held an overcoat—a very fine wool one. Steven shrugged it on. The pockets contained a few coins and a book of matches. On his way out he grabbed the galoshes for James, making mental notes of the offices he’d taken things from. Somehow he’d find a way to replace them. Back in the reception area he shoved a few candies in his pocket and put on the top hat. A look in the mirror told him he didn’t do too badly. He took the other overcoat from the rack and returned to the hallway.

“Well, aren’t we fancy.” James appeared, wearing a rough worker’s uniform, a satchel slung over his arm. “Find anything for me?”

Steven held up the overcoat and galoshes. “Should we keep looking?”

James pulled on the galoshes. “Trade me shoes?”

“No.” He didn’t feel guilty either since James was responsible for them being in this mess in the first place. If they’d just avoided their kind as he’d wanted …

James pulled a few coins from the coat pocket. “I’ve got eleven cents. You?”

“Forty-three.” He dug into the suit jacket pocket and found seven more. “Sixty-one cents. We’re rich.”