The Zeppelin Deception Read online

  “What’s going on?” I said, listening for an indication that the others—presumably Isabella and Oligary—were coming in here.

  “But it’s too soon!” Dylan exclaimed to Olympia. He rushed over to her, looking stricken. “I don’t have the sc—”

  “I don’t know what happened,” she said, peering at her papers as if they held the answer. “I intended to make certain we were out of London—”

  Dylan was looking out a window. “But we’re not! Look—there’s the Oligary Building, and we’re heading for the Tower of London. And the river is right there!”

  “The wind might have changed—or it must be the extra persons.” She looked at the four of us (Evaline, Edison, Grayling, and me) balefully. “I didn’t expect the additional ballast.”

  “What is going on?” I demanded again.

  “The balloon,” Edison said. He’d been looking out of a different curtained window. “It’s sprung a leak.” His voice was remarkably calm.

  Not so Evaline’s. “A leak? How does an airship spring a leak?” She looked considerably worried, which made me feel considerably worried.

  “I suspect it had some assistance,” Grayling said, looking at Olympia and Dylan. “It’s a slow leak, fortunately. I assume you punctured it somehow.”

  “I calculated it to the last kilogram—the weight, the location of the puncture, the size of the hole, even the timing—and of course I took into account the wind direction,” Olympia said, pulling a pencil from the bundle of moonbeam hair that sagged at the back of her head. “Something went wrong. It’s not supposed to deflate this rapidly.” She frowned at us again, then returned to scratching her computations. “It’s the extra ballast, I’m sure of it. We haven’t time to lose,” Olympia said, glancing up as if she were ordering milk for her tea. “Stage Two, Dylan. Now.”

  “But I have to get the scarab,” he cried. “I can’t get back home without it.”

  The zeppelin gave another great shudder, and I’m not too proud to admit that my heart surged into my throat. I stifled a scream.

  Good gad…were we going to our death in a deflating airship? The entire room was listing to the left. One of the chairs began to slide.

  “What’s Stage Two?” I was perspiring quite heavily beneath my flapper dress, and no one seemed to be doing anything.

  More heavy footsteps down the hall, more shouts. Clomping feet above us, presumably attempting to repair the slowly deflating zeppelin. I expected someone to burst into the room at any moment, but they went on by. I heard a feminine shout of rage from beyond, and recognized it as Isabella.

  Clearly she was otherwise occupied. If only I could instill the same urgency in my own companions!

  “What is Stage Two?” I demanded a second time.

  “The escape hatch, of course, and its life-basket.” Olympia said, shoving more papers and items into her satchel. She glanced at me as if I were dimwitted.

  “In the engine room,” Edison added.

  “My, you have been busy, haven’t you?” Evaline said with an edge to her voice.

  “Always locate the exits first,” Edison replied.

  “Where’s the scarab?” Grayling asked as he moved to the door. He peeked out, then turned back to us. “Dylan, do you know where it is?”

  “She keeps it with her things. I don’t know exactly where.”

  I was almost certain there were tears of frustration and fear glistening in Dylan’s eyes. He had cause, for if the zeppelin went down—with or without us—the scarab would be lost and he would be stuck in my time forever.

  “How much time do we have, Miss Babbage?” Grayling asked.

  “Time? Until what?” She peered owlishly at him.

  “Until it’s too late to evacuate the ship.” He, too, was remarkably calm. I wanted to scream.

  Miss Babbage glanced out the window, raised her eyes vacantly (presumably to calculate), and said, “Twenty minutes. No…mmm…seventeen.”

  “Let’s go.” Grayling was grim but determined. He looked at his timepiece. “Eckhert.”

  “I’m going with you,” I was shocked to hear myself say.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Evaline as Grayling and Dylan both roared similar negative responses.

  I merely lifted my nose and sailed toward the door.

  That was one way to get people moving.

  Miss Stoker

  ~ Seventeen Seconds ~

  Blast it! Trust Mina Holmes to choose the most inopportune time to become rash and impetuous.

  I glanced at Edison, whose sober expression gave me little hope.

  “We’ll secure the escape hatch. Inspector, you have less than ten minutes to return,” said Edison, taking Miss Babbage by the arm and leading her through the door even as she perused her papers.

  Leaving me to fend for myself.

  Not that I needed any assistance.

  Or wanted any.

  Especially from him.

  He’d always had a fondness for Olympia Babbage. He’d called her “luv” too.

  When we eased into the small, hallway-like vestibule, I saw the backsides of Mina, Grayling, and Dylan rushing in the opposite direction down the hallway, which was slanted upward due to the deflating balloon. They were heading to the chamber at the other end of the cabin. Above, I could hear the sounds of shouts and the pounding of running feet.

  I felt only the barest of chills at the back of my neck, since I’d disposed of the two UnDead in this room. That meant the other two vampires were no imminent threat.

  As we were climbing down the metal staircase back into the engine room, the zeppelin gave a violent shudder. The entire cabin fell sharply on one end, causing us to lose our footing and swing off the steps. In the distance, I heard shouts and a scream. I held on to the stair railing, but Miss Babbage lost her grip. She was flung off the steps and landed on the floor several feet below.

  “Olympia!” Edison shouted, crawling down the tilted steps as quickly as he could. “Are you hurt?” He sounded very concerned.

  The cabin had not righted itself, nor, I thought, would it. The floor remained sharply angled. The cargo hold was on the lower end. Things were getting desperate.

  I released the metal railing and let myself drop the rest of the way. I landed on top of a helium tank next to Olympia as she said, “I’m all right but for my wrist.” Her voice was taut with pain, and her eyes were a little glassy.

  Edison and I helped her to stand on the inclining floor, and, using the mechanics and helium tanks for leverage, we began to make our way to the opposite end of the cabin—the higher end. It was like climbing a hill, and every so often we’d slide back a little bit because the floor was smooth metal and there was little for our shoes to grip. As we made our way up, the cabin continued to tilt more and more sharply.

  I wondered if Miss Babbage wanted to adjust her seventeen seconds estimate. I decided not to ask.

  I spotted the escape hatch as soon as we got closer. It was obvious: a round door on the low part of the wall right where it curved into the floor. The handle was a slender cross of metal. The opening would be wide enough for a person to crawl through easily.

  But what was on the other side?

  “Stay here and hold on,” Edison told Miss Babbage, who was cradling her wrist. Her face was tight with pain and effort. He tucked her and the satchel she still wore against a large tank so she wouldn’t slip back to the other end of the room. Then he looked at me. “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  We moved together to the hatch and began to unscrew the cover. It would have been a simple task had we not had the threat of sliding halfway across the room at any moment. I had to loop an arm around a nearby pipe while using my other hand to help turn the metal handle. I propped a foot against the edge of a tank, which helped me remain upright.

  The door gave a little pop as it came free, and Edison and I let it roll away down into the cabin. It clunked wildly as it banged into tanks, pipes, and other machinery.
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  I hoped we didn’t need to put it back.

  We both pulled up at the same time to look outside. It was cold.

  The rush of wind took my breath—and so did the sight of black nothingness.

  We were suspended in the air, and there was nothing but darkness to be seen this high. In the distance, I could make out the faintest glow of dawn. Because we were on the raised end of the cabin, I wouldn’t be able to see down to the ground unless I pulled myself out and looked way over.

  Edison made an emphatic sound, but I began to climb out anyway. Carefully holding on to the edges of the opening, I eased my head and then torso out. My hips settled uncomfortably on the edge of the hatch opening as I leveraged myself up with a palm on the edge and the other hand gripping a metal bar on the exterior. Tiny chips of ice splattered over my face and hands.

  From inside, Edison held me by the ankles with painfully tight fingers—and then the airship balked again.

  This time, the jolt was so violent that we felt a sudden dip in the entire vessel as it spun and fell. I gripped the opening tighter as I bounced against the edge. The freezing, damp air rushed over my face as we swung downward. Edison held on to my legs as the vessel bumped sharply, twisting on some violent breeze, then somehow leveled out…still afloat on a significantly deflated balloon.

  My heart was in my throat. My face was damp but my lungs finally started to work again.

  I’d seen enough.

  But before I even tried to disengage, Edison yanked hard on my ankles and I tumbled back inside. His face was white, his lips nearly colorless. “Evaline.”

  I shook my head, unable to speak for a moment. He said my name again, then made a move to climb out himself. I pulled him back. There was no need for both of us to risk ourselves.

  I found my voice. “There’s a small life-basket, like she said—the size of a hot air balloon gondola. It’s got a parachute. It’ll hold the six of us at least. The trick will be getting to it.”

  “How close are we?”

  I knew he meant to the ground, not to the escape basket, but I don’t think either of us wanted to speak the obvious. “Still above the rooftops.”

  We were. But sinking. Especially the bottom end of the cabin. I wondered what would happen if it bumped into a building or a tree.

  Would that stop our free fall? Would it catch on fire? Would it smash into pieces?

  “The mooring rope is tangled, so we can’t draw the basket close enough to board. I’ll have to climb out and bring it closer.”

  “No,” he said. “I’ll do it—”

  I shook my head. “No. I’m stronger, Edison, and I’m lighter.” I held his gaze and saw the struggle in his eyes as he argued internally. “And I—I heal faster.”

  He swore, a short, vulgar oath—and he didn’t even try to stifle it. “But you’re not immortal, dammit. Evaline. You keep acting like you’re bloody immortal.”

  I just looked at him, and for a moment the world—everything around us—stopped. My breath clogged. His eyes were so beautiful. I had so many things I needed to tell him.

  “I—” I bit off whatever I was going to say—I didn’t even want to think about what would have come out of my mouth.

  I looked away, forcing the moment to shatter. “Someone has to do it, and I’m the best person. We’re running out of time, Edison.”

  He gave me a look—so dark, so intense, so angry—then nodded curtly. “We need a rope. You’re not going out there without a bloody rope around your waist.”

  It was easier said than done, but we managed it. Miss Babbage wasn’t much help; she was still redoing calculations to see whether we had five or four minutes before we crashed to our death.

  But she did have a length of rope in her satchel, and that was helpful. Edison tied it around my waist, checked the knot thrice, then secured it to the most stable metal piece we could find. And he checked that too. Then he handed me his coat and I shrugged into it gratefully.

  And then it was time for me to go.

  I avoided looking at him again. I just couldn’t. I started out of the hatch door, this time backward so I could sit on the edge and reach up.

  My palms were a little slick as I lifted myself by the handles around the outside of the escape hatch. The rim of the opening cut into the backs of my legs as I eased out farther. Avoiding tangling in the rope that tied me to safety, I pulled to my feet and, turning carefully, stood on the outside of the hatch.

  Then I just stood there. It was the most frightening and exhilarating moment I’d ever experienced. The night surrounded me and the injured airship. The air was crisp and frigid, and sleet pelted me. Edison’s long coat flapped about my knees. I was alone in the sky, and it was infinite, vast, wild.

  A subtle jolt from the airship reminded me I had no time to waste. And I had to take into account the possibility of slipping due to the ice, so I moved carefully along the outside of the cabin using the large metal bolts that held it together as footholds, and mooring ropes or and metal rods as handles.

  Above me was the spectator rail where passengers could stand outside and view the scenery—a place I’d not even known existed until now.

  Tonight, the view would have been that of a silent and dark landscape. Above the rail, I could hear the eerie whistling sound of air rushing through the puncture in the balloon. The ugly flapping sort of noise its deflated self made was an unpleasant reminder of our predicament.

  Far below—but not far enough—were fuzzy lights that were street lamps. I could make out the shapes of some roofs and chimneys as they appeared on the horizon we were slipping toward. It glowed with the promise of dawn. I wondered if I’d live to see it.

  Now that I had my bearings, I turned to my task. The basket wasn’t too far away, and I realized that it was probably positioned so that it could be raised to the spectator deck if necessary. The mooring rope would draw it to either the hatch I was using, or up to the passenger level.

  A sudden gust of wind set the cabin swinging sharply. I smothered a yelp and held on as one foot slipped off the massive bolt-head on which it was perched. The balloon above gave a ripping snort as it expelled a large burp of helium, and we sank even more.

  I didn’t think about that. I grabbed for the mooring rope and wrapped it around my arm, because my fingers were getting cold and I didn’t trust them to hold on. Someone shouted behind me—Edison—and I felt the rope around my waist go taut.

  He wanted me back inside, and I was ready to go. I inched back, closing my eyes against the icy wind, moving ever so carefully. My ears, fingers, and legs were frozen and my eyelashes fringed with icicles.

  I didn’t breathe again until I stepped onto the edge of the hatch doorway. I passed the mooring rope inside. Someone yanked so hard at the rope around my waist that I lost my balance and tumbled back through the hole, rolling down the incline until I caught myself on an iron bar.

  Annoyed by the abrupt movement, I looked up to where I’d fallen inside and saw that Edison and Miss Babbage were no longer the only people there.

  “Thank you very much, Evaline, for retrieving the life-basket,” said Isabella. She was smiling.

  Oh, and she had a gun, of course.

  Miss Holmes

  ~ A Sinking Ship ~

  To this day, I do not know what possessed me to barge out of that chamber and lead the way in search of the scarab when we were quite literally falling to our death, but the fact remains that I did.

  Despite my boldness, I was wildly relieved that Grayling and Dylan were immediately on my trail. We didn’t know where we were going or where we might find the scarab, and in that case, three heads (and sets of eyes and hands) were better than one.

  As we started down the short corridor, the airship gave a horrifying shudder, and the next thing I knew, I was tumbling down the hall as the chamber I’d just left dropped.

  I managed to stifle a shriek as the slightly slanted floor turned into a significant incline. Grayling caught my hand,
stopping me from going all the way to the bottom, as he, Dylan, and I used the wall to right ourselves.

  I glanced at Dylan hopefully, though I already knew he wouldn’t want to turn back and head to the escape hatch. I truly understood, but I wasn’t happy about it. I knew the seconds were ticking away, and they would soon turn into the minutes that counted down our doom. (I believe, under the circumstances, I am allowed a bit of dramatic license in telling this tale.)

  I pushed those thoughts (and other, even more horrifying ones) from my mind and commenced to making my way up the incline of a corridor. At the same time, I expected to see Lady Isabella and Sir Emmett appear at any moment, which would complicate matters even more significantly. Above us were the sounds of panic and running feet. I hoped they would just stay topside, trying to fix the balloon’s leak, because for once I wasn’t eager to face down the villainess at the moment. I didn’t think I could continue my interrogation of her, considering our current imbroglio.

  Because Grayling was assisting me, Dylan reached the door to the cabin at the top of the slanted hallway first. He pushed it open with difficulty—trying to balance himself while working against the gravity of the door wanting to stay closed—and finally worked it open enough to slide inside. A moment later, the door opened and was secured when Dylan pushed a chair to hold it against the wall.

  Thus I got a clear view inside before Grayling and I, doing a sort of creeping half-crawl, arrived at the entrance. The furnishings had tumbled and slid down against the wall where the door was, explaining why it had been so difficult for Dylan to open it. Chairs, tables, clothing, rugs, and other items, like utensils, plates, and food, were strewn about.

  But the thing that caught my attention, the vision that made my heart surge into my throat, was the view.

  This chamber was at the end of the cabin, and there were two massive windows that joined together in a pointed seam at what was obviously the front of the airship.