1930
Valencia, Spain
Trafalgar Rhys had never seen an orange more ripe for the plucking. It hung on the end of a long branch which extended out over the stone wall so that she didn’t even have to leave the road to grab it. She pulled gently and it came free with barely any pressure. It was heavy in her hand, the rind dotted with water droplets. She looked over the wall at the perfectly-lined rows of identical trees stretching out toward the horizon. The unbelievable green of the trees and the brilliantly blue sky made the fruit look golden.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen so much orange in my entire life.”
“Then perhaps you can spare one for a hungry traveler.”
Trafalgar smiled and tossed the orange to her right without bothering to aim.
Violet Rhys let go of her reins with one hand to catch it. She brought it to her mouth, broke the skin with her teeth, and proceeded to peel it with one hand.
“Deft fingers,” Trafalgar noted.
“Not so bad with my mouth, either,” Violet said with a wink.
Trafalgar smiled.
Their horses, rented from a man in Valencia, plodded along side-by-side in the center of the road. The outskirts of town were still a hazy outline on the horizon behind them. Ahead, they could see the scattered stone structures of vineyards and the buildings that served the grove Trafalgar had just stolen from. They were dressed casually in riding pants, knee-high leather boots, and button-down shirts under light jackets. Trafalgar wore sunglasses, and Violet had covered her blonde curls with a maroon boater.
When they reached an intersection, Trafalgar looked to Violet for guidance. Violet gestured to the left with her chin and Trafalgar nudged her horse in that direction. She immediately saw their probable destination and turned back for confirmation. Violet nodded again, shrugged, and her eyebrows rose.
“That’s where they are.”
“Interesting.” Trafalgar faced forward again.
The road dead-ended at a tall stone building a hundred yards ahead. The façade was cracked and broken to reveal the brickwork underneath. The windows had all been covered by planks of wood which were painted with colorful circus scenes of animals, acrobats, and aerialists. A wooden archway over the entrance declared it was the site of the Valbuena Traveling Circus. The field to the east of the building was filled with trailers she assumed housed the talent, while the field on the opposite side of the building housed a trio of tents of various sizes.
Trafalgar halted her horse a fair distance away and took off her sunglasses. Violet came to a stop beside her. They had been hired to find twin girls who had gained magical abilities during what had come to be known as the Awakening of 1923. The vast majority of Londoners who were affected by the magical storm lost their power when Beatrice Sek and the other elementals created “void,” but it hadn’t returned everyone to normal. Some retained their unique talents, and no one had been able to determine exactly why some people were unaffected by the void. Trafalgar knew several members of the Mnemosyne Society were hard at work investigating it but they were no closer to a solution now than they’d been seven years ago.
Violet was one of the lucky few who still had her power. She was blessed with the ability to find anything, no matter where it was in the world. It worked with people as well as objects, and they’d built a strong reputation for being able to find the unfindable for both citizens and the constables of London who found themselves stumped in a case.
In all the time they’d worked together, Trafalgar had never known Violet to be wrong, so she didn’t bother questioning her guidance. She searched for the area for signs of life. A stone wall obscured the area around the tents, but she could hear voices and the sound of construction work occurring just out of sight.
“Options,” Trafalgar said. “We walk in now under the guise of roustabouts in search of work, and use the job as an opportunity to dig around. Or we can go get some rest, come back tonight as paying customers, and snoop around then.”
“The best part about working as a team is that we don’t have to choose between two good ideas.”
Trafalgar held out her fist. “Odds. Loser does the grunt work, winner plays the rube.”
Violet held her fist next to Trafalgar’s. “Once, twice, thrice, shoot.”
They went best of three, and Violet ended up the winner. Trafalgar could tell she was trying to hide her smugness as she took up her reins again.
“You’ve said several times your ability can’t determine future positions of objects, correct?”
Violet nodded. “It’s location, not premonition. Why?”
“You win at roshambo far too much. I’m beginning to suspect you know what my hand is going to do.”
“Ah.” Violet’s lips twisted into a smile. “Perhaps I am just a connoisseur of your hand’s capabilities.”
“Flirt.” She winked and smiled, brushing her fingers suggestively across her lips.
Violet sighed. “It worked out well in the end, wouldn’t you say? I make a far more convincing genteel lady, and you’re much better at the grunt work.”
“Are you calling me the muscle?”
Violet tossed her head so that her curls bounced. “Are you denying that I’m the beauty...?”
Trafalgar pursed her lips to keep from smiling. “Very well. I’ll abide by the rules of the game. You go back to the boardinghouse and get some rest. At least one of us will be rested if this goes into the evening. I’ll do my best to get hired and see what I can discover from the workers.”
“Okay.” Violet leaned across the distance between them, and Trafalgar met her in the middle for a kiss. Trafalgar tasted the remnants of the orange’s juices on her lips. “Be safe, wife.”
Trafalgar smiled. “I’ll see you soon, wife.”
Violet clucked her tongue to turn her horse around, and Trafalgar twisted to watch her ride away. She only watched until Violet turned around, and they waved once more at each other. Her wife. Her beloved. She’d never seen herself in a marriage until she realized that men weren’t her only option. She was attracted to them, could muster up enough feelings to sleep with one, but love? She apparently only reserved that for women. Her first two female lovers had made matrimony seem plausible. Violet, her truest love, had made it essential.
Trafalgar faced forward again and focused on the building, pushing away the distracting thoughts of the woman who had finally given her a last name. She took a deep breath and dismounted her horse, leading it the rest of the way down the road to the double-wide front doors of the Valbuena Traveling Circus.
She assumed knocking would only get her someone in management, so she hitched her horse to the available post and walked along the wall until she found a gate. It was unlocked so she let herself in and found herself in a tent city. Rows of identical tents filled the space, flanked on both ends by walls of wheeled trailers that had barred windows high on their sides. She smelled the unmistakable stench of animals, the waste and food and hay, that was almost covered by the more inviting scent of freshly-cut wood.
A barrel-chested shirtless man passed by her without a second look. Trafalgar fell into step behind him, hurrying to keep up.
“Is there anywhere I can be of assistance?” she asked him.
“Help from a woman? Do you even know what kind of prep--” He turned and looked at her, slowing slightly as he ran his eyes up and down her body. It felt like a true appraisal of worth rather than anything lascivious, so she allowed it without comment. His jaw clenched, he bobbed his head once, and turned his back on her to keep walking.
“Go down this way,” he said, gesturing down one of the lanes between tents. “Find the lady with all the fabrics hung up outside her lot. She’s always got more work than hands.”
“Much obliged,” she said, but he had already moved out of sight behind a trailer.
She took one more look around. A few other circus workers were milling around but, like the strongman, none of them seemed interested in the stranger who had just arrived in their midst.
Secure in their indifference, Trafalgar adjusted her collar and went in search of the woman with the fabrics.
***
Violet had tried to explain her abilities to many people over the years, but she could never quite articulate exactly how it felt to “sight” things. She didn’t see a roadmap projected in front of her eyes, and there was no red line directing her toward whatever hidden treasure someone happened to be seeking. Someone asked her for the location of something. It could be a person, an article of clothing, a book, anything. Once she had an item in mind, she just knew where it was. She could see its surroundings and had a general idea how far away it was in relation to her.
“Think of it this way,” she’d once said to Trafalgar while they were lying in bed. “Where are your leather boots?”
“They’re--”
Violet had held up a finger. “What are you picturing in your mind?”
“The front closet.”
“And while you’re not envisioning the entire trip out of the bedroom, down the hall, across the parlor, and into the closet, you’re aware of it. You could guide someone there if need be.”
Trafalgar had pondered that. “And you can do that with anything?”
Violet shrugged. “So far. Everything I’ve sought, I ended up finding.” She had traced the seam of Trafalgar’s night shirt. “I even found some things I wasn’t seeking.”
Now, as she woke in the boardinghouse they’d been using as a base of operations, Violet spared a thought for Trafalgar and knew she was a mile to the northeast, she was outside, and she was safe. She got out of bed and changed out of her normal attire into something she felt was more in keeping with the rest of the crowd. They’d packed so they could blend in, and she had a pair of dungarees and a threadbare blouse with patches on the sleeves.
It was almost dark when she set out, this time she used the car in case they had a pair of teenaged passengers with them when they left the circus.
Traffic on the road was much heavier now. She joined a line of cars, wagons, and horses which all seemed to share her destination, and she was grateful she could use them as cover. She found a place to leave the car and walked the rest of the way to the building she’d guided them to earlier. The doors were flung open now, and every doorway and window shone with bright golden light. She could also hear music, though at the moment she could only hear a steady drum beat over the sound of chatter from the other patrons on their way inside.
She paid for her ticket at the door and followed the crowd through the building and into the field of tents. Lanterns glowed within every tent and cast odd, inhuman shadows on the canvas walls. Smoke rose from a multitude of cook surfaces, carrying with it the scent of a dozen different foods. Circus workers shouted their offerings, guests exclaimed in wonder and excitement. The cacophony was enough to give Violet a headache, but she powered through. Wooden signs hammered into the ground pointed in various directions, but she didn’t need them. She thought of Trafalgar and turned without hesitation to the right.
Her intuition led her to the largest tent. A man took her ticket and directed her to the risers which ringed the perimeter of an open performance area. She took her seat and looked toward the opposite side of the tent where her wife was currently wrapping a rope around a metal peg. She’d also changed clothes; she was now wearing a shirt that bared her muscular arms, and her bald head was covered by a flat cap.
She finished her work and looked up, eyes landing on Violet as if she’d called out. A smile quirked Trafalgar’s lips and she touched the brim of her cap. Violet winked. Trafalgar followed another worker behind the rafters and they both ducked through a flap into the darkness beyond.
Violet settled in. The sisters they’d been hired to find were definitely nearby - about a hundred and fifty yards to her right, to be exact - and they were safe. Trafalgar was nearby, so it seemed likely they’d made contact. The girls were named Frieda and Isabel Ickes, and they’d been given the ability to balance on anything. It wasn’t very flashy, as magical gifts went, but it certainly made them very good at gymnastics. She could think of a dozen possibilities for circus acts that would be astounding with their skills. Their mission was to discover if the girls had left willingly or if they’d been coerced somehow. If they had been taken, Trafalgar had been tasked with getting them out and bringing them home.
A fanfare of trumpets silenced the crowd. Violet sat up straighter and watched as a man in a flowing red robe and a tall top hat stepped into the center ring with both arms stretched out to either side.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” he bellowed, then repeated it in Spanish as he turned in a slow circle to address the whole crowd. “Welcome to the Valbuena Traveling Circus! Whether this is your first visit with us or a return trip, you are all part of the Valbuena family! And without further ado...” He flicked his wrist and a long walking stick appeared in his hand. He twisted it with his fingers and banged the end on the ground. “Let the show commence!”
An unseen band, likely the source of the earlier fanfare, began playing a spritely tune as the performers swept into the ring. Two lions were led out by their trainers, woman in skimpy outfits rode matching horses. A man entered the tent at a full sprint, bounced off a trampoline, and grabbed a ring that hung from a rope. His momentum carried him in a wide arc over the audience, and he smiled and waved as if it was the most ordinary way of entering a room.
Violet had to admit she was impressed by the flood of talent. A man with the beard of a Viking breathed fire. A man in a fancy suit tore off his blazer and shirt to reveal inked designs etched all over his chest and covering his arms. Women somersaulted and juggled. Animals pranced and performed well-choreographed routines for trainers in technicolor suits. The crowd gasped and pointed and struggled to figure out which act was the most deserving of their attention.
Once the show was fully underway and the crowd was entranced by the spectacle, Violet rose and slipped away from the risers and out of the tent. She only had to pause for a second to know which way to go, and she went there quickly. Even without her ability, she could have just followed the voices. A man behind the building was on the verge of yelling. As she got closer, she could make out the words.
“--for your incompetence, she could’ve done a thousand more!”
Trafalgar’s voice responded, sounding meek and terrified. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know what happened. I just wasn’t paying attention... I can take her to a medic. There’s one in town. Oh, I hope you’re not hurt too badly, dear.”
A girl started to reply, but the man cut her off. “You’re not going anywhere. This girl’s got a show to do!”
“Her ankle could be broken!” Trafalgar said. “You can’t possibly ask her to perform on that. Maybe her sister--”
“Her sister is already nice and snug. ‘Sides, these girls say they can balance on anything. Figure that means broken bones, too. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”
The girl said, “I don’t think that’s--”
“I said shush!”
Violet took that as her cue and came around the corner. “Did somebody mention a medic?”
Trafalgar was standing next to a man with the face of a mule and the build to match. His legs seemed much too muscular for his body, and his trousers were pulled up high enough to make his torso look truncated. His forearms were wider than his biceps, a peculiarity that she feared meant that he could put a lot of power into a punch... or into crushing things. A girl who matched the photographs they’d been given was lying on the ground between them. All three turned to face Violet.
“Who the blazes are you?” the man said.
“I told you, I’m the medic.” She folded her arms behind her and bounced on the balls of her feet, trying to look as much like a schoolmarm as possible. “Would you be a dear and ask me where your weak spot is?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Wot?”
“Say the words ‘where is my weak spot’.”
“‘Where’s my weak spot’?” He wrinkled his nose and stalked toward her, squaring up for a punch. “I don’t much like punchin’ ladies but you got three seconds to--”
“Right ankle,” Violet said.
Trafalgar’s foot shot out and stomped on the man’s foot. It bent in a horrible way, the sound of a snapped bone echoing much louder than it should have. The man’s shout was louder, however, and was bound to draw attention. Trafalgar shuffled closer and cracked her elbow across the man’s jaw. The errant Ickes sister sprang up like she’d been fired from a catapult and landed hard on the man’s back, sending him face-first into the mud.
Violet raised her eyebrows and came closer. “Is this Frieda or Isabel?”
Trafalgar exhaled sharply and rolled her shoulder, checking to make sure she hadn’t hurt herself in taking down the brute. “Frieda. Frieda, this is the woman I told you about. The one who is going to help us free your sister.”
“She’s at the far end of the property, being kept in a shack.”
“We know that,” Trafalgar said. “We need the key.”
Violet said, “Oh.” She dropped down and reached into the now-unconscious roustabout’s pocket. She pulled out a keyring and held it out to Trafalgar. “There you are.”
“My brilliant wife,” Trafalgar said, leaning in to kiss Violet as she took the keys.
Frieda observed the kiss with a quickly concealed look of surprise, but she said nothing about it.
“We have to hurry,” Trafalgar said, already moving. “We have to assume someone heard him shouting.”
Violet and Frieda followed her, the three of them jogging through the maze of trailers.
“Valbuena alternates us,” Frieda said to Violet as they ran. “One of us performs while he holds the other prisoner as leverage. We play along, nothing happens to the one of us he’s holding.”
“That’s despicable,” Violet said. “Everything will be all right soon. Trafalgar is very--”
A cannonball of a man appeared from nowhere and slammed into Trafalgar from the side. They tangled and hit the ground. Violet moved to help, but another man appeared from behind them and grabbed her arm. Frieda was grabbed by a third man. Violet tugged and tried to slip free, but the grip on her upper arm only tightened.
“She’s very good at getting out of tight spaces,” Violet muttered, as the cannonball lifted Trafalgar up out of the mud. “That’s what I was about to say.”
***
Trafalgar made sure to watch the carny pushing Violet along, keeping track of everything he did that could be construed as damage so she could take it out on him ten-fold. Getting hired had been easy enough; there was always extra work for willing hands on a show day, but every single person she worked with had regarded her as an interloper. No one wanted to talk with her beyond basic directions - “Move that” or “carry this” and whispers fell silent as soon as she came within earshot. She’d quickly found the Ickes sisters and revealed who had sent her, and they revealed their situation.
“We just wanted a bit of excitement,” Frieda said. “We had this ability...”
“But there’s not a lot of use for balancing skills in day-to-day life,” Isabel continued.
“Then the circus came to town.”
“We thought it would be a laugh.”
“We offered to perform while they were in London.”
“It was something to do, and it was great fun.”
“But when we went to be paid, Valbuena locked us up.”
There were other performers being held against their will, but Trafalgar couldn’t promise to save them without knowing what Valbuena’s leverage was. She’d intended to sneak Frieda out under the guise of a medical emergency, then go back and get Isabel, and everything had been going perfectly until the last little hiccup.
Granted, it was a pretty sizeable hiccup.
They were taken to the building where Isabel was being held captive. The goon shoved Trafalgar over the threshold, causing her to stumble. The door was closed and locked again by the time she’d regained her balance. She brushed her hands down her arms as if wiping away the man’s grip as she turned to examine the others. Violet looked highly annoyed, while the sisters clung to each other with looks of terror.
“Three guards,” Violet said without prompting. “Two at the front and another watching the back.”
Trafalgar looked around the space for anything they might use to escape. Unsurprisingly, there wasn’t a lot to work with. Valbuena was a horrible man, but even he was smart enough not to lock hostages in a room with the means to escape. There was one piece of lumber that could serve as a baseball bat. She picked it up, swung it in a gentle arc to test its weight. Sturdy, but not a lot of help against a locked door. She held onto it, nonetheless.
“In a way we’re fortunate,” she said. “It’s doubtful they’ll stop the show, so we have a little time before anyone comes looking for us.” She thought for a second and faced Violet, snapping her fingers as if something had just occurred to her. “Darling, where is that thing...?”
Violet frowned. “What thing?”
“The thing we need to secure our escape. You know, the one item we can use to break open this door and dispatch the guards so we can make a clean getaway.”
Violet’s beautiful blue eyes blinked once at her, and then she wrinkled her brow. “Sorry, my love, but it doesn’t work that way. I need a bit more specificity.”
“Drat. Worth a try, anyway. I’m open to anyone else’s ideas.”
Frieda, differentiated by the fact she was the one in costume, looked at Violet. “Can you summon objects to you?”
“Afraid not. I can only point someone to where it is.”
Trafalgar had been pacing, but her mind caught on something. “You may not be able to find what we need. But you can find what someone else wants.”
Violet raised an eyebrow. Trafalgar motioned her toward the door and she followed. “Isabel, Frieda, can the guards hear us through this door?”
“And we can hear them,” Isabel said with a sneer of disgust.
Trafalgar knocked on the door. “Gentlemen. We have a proposition for you.”
“Boss said you don’t get to talk,” one of the guards said. “So button your yaps.”
“Even if we can give you your heart’s desire? Even if we can tell you where to find the one thing you want more than anything else in the world?”
Silence from the other side of the door. Trafalgar waited. Finally, one of the men laughed.
“All right,” he chortled. “A Cabriolet. You get me a Cabriolet, I’ll open the door for you.”
Trafalgar leaned close to Violet. “Where is the key to the nearest Cadillac Cabriolet?”
Violet smiled and raised her voice to be heard through the door. “There’s one parked outside the property. The owner left the key underneath the backseat bench.”
“Best hurry up, ‘fore the show ends and the audience lets out.”
More silence. Trafalgar hoped they weren’t going to check on the information before following through on the deal. After thirty seconds, she was about to speak again when she suddenly heard the lock click and the door swung open. There was only one man there, and Trafalgar could see the other’s back as he hurried his way down the aisle between trailers.
The remaining guard put his hand on the door frame, blocking their exit. He smiled as he examined the four women inside.
“He wanted a car... what about what I want?”
“Well, sure, that’s only fair.” Violet’s voice was sweetness and light, lilting and gentle. “But there’s one little problem, dear.”
“And what’s that, buttercup?”
Violet shrugged and looked disappointed in him. “You’ve already opened the door.”
He didn’t have time to consider her meaning before Trafalgar smacked her lumber bat into his face. The man stumbled back, blood spilling down the front of his face as Trafalgar rushed him. She knocked him to the ground and turned to the girls.
“Quickly now, ladies!”
Violet waited until both sisters were clear before she followed. The circus was still in full swing, with the gasps and cheers of the crowd serving as a chorus for their escape. They took the same route as the man who had been promised a new car and caught up with him at the main gate. He turned when he heard them approaching and bared his teeth in a snarl.
“Should’ve known better than to trust a couple of--”
Whatever he’d been about to say was silenced by another swing of Trafalgar’s bat. His head snapped back and Trafalgar swept his leg out from under him with a swift kick.
Violet pointed toward where she had parked once they were out of the circus grounds.
Frieda slowed and looked back. “He’s holding others...”
“We’ll send someone back once we have you to safety,” Violet promised. “You’re our priority right now.”
Neither of the sisters looked happy, but they picked up the pace.
“Stop them!”
Trafalgar clucked her tongue. “A bat to the face doesn’t have the stopping power it once did.” To Violet, she said, “Get the girls to the car, then come back and get me.”
“You’ll be all right?” Violet asked.
Trafalgar winked and brushed her wife’s hand. “Just come back and get me. I spent a day working alongside these gentlemen. I’m confident I’ll still be standing when you get here.”
Violet nodded and ushered the Ickes sisters along. Trafalgar stopped running and spun on the ball of one foot until she was facing her pursuers. Three carnies, two of them bearded with blood, were practically tripping over themselves to catch up. As she’d expected from seeing them do hard labor, all three were already gasping for air before they had reached her.
“Shall we call a time-out before we begin, gents?” she asked, relaxing her stance. “I would hate for you to use breathlessness as an excuse for your impending loss.”
The lead man had arrived. “Don’t... need much to... deal with you!”
He swung and missed, but it brought him close enough for Trafalgar to punch him in the throat. He gagged, and she dropped her hand to the collar of his shirt. She shoved him backward into the second man, pivoted, and kicked the third man in the stomach. He had the wherewithal to grab her foot in an attempt to drop her. She used it to her advantage and leapt, planting her other foot on one of his friends to propel herself higher. The man holding her foot was suddenly burdened with her entire weight and he fell backward.
When they landed, Trafalgar had no choice but to stomp on his chest. He wheezed and curled into a ball as Trafalgar turned to face the other two men. The one on the bottom was unconscious, while the other was still coughing and spitting and trying to catch his breath.
Headlights washed the scene in a pale yellow glow, and Trafalgar backed away from the men toward the car.
“Mr. Valbuena isn’t going to take kindly to this!” said the man who was still capable of speaking.
“I have no doubt he’ll be very cross indeed.” Trafalgar stepped up onto the passenger side runner, holding onto the strut next to the windshield. Violet backed away from the fallen men, so Trafalgar cupped her free hand next to her mouth and raised her voice to be sure they heard her. “If he’s ever in London and feels the urge to get revenge, tell him to look up Rhys Tracking and Investigative Services! We’ll be happy to hear his complaints.”
The men were still crumpled masses in the middle of the road as Violet continued backing away from the scene. Soon they were far enough away that she stopped long enough for Trafalgar to climb into the passenger seat so she wouldn’t have to hang on for the entire ride back to the docks. Trafalgar kept the window down and swore she could still hear the big band music playing well after the circus had fallen out of sight.
***
“You don’t always have to antagonize them, you know.”
They were in bed in their berth aboard the Skylarker, about halfway back to London. The Ickes girls had been offered separate rooms, but they requested to stay together insisting they’d been kept apart more than enough over the past few months. Trafalgar had washed up and changed into a night dress, while Violet had opted to lay down naked beside her. For the fifteen minutes before she spoke, she’d been tracing abstract designs on Trafalgar’s upper chest.
“How do you mean?” Trafalgar twisted one of Violet’s blonde curls around her forefinger so she could let it go and watch it bounce.
Violet adopted a deeper voice and gave each word a bit of swagger. “Next time he’s in London, you tell him where he can find us!”
Trafalgar laughed. “I wasn’t quite that cowboy.”
“You were very cowboy. I know because I found it very arousing.” Violet tilted her head up to kiss Trafalgar’s chin.
“Oh, is that so? Well, I may have to visit the Wild West more often.”
“My heart wouldn’t be able to take it. There’s a chance Valbuena will do exactly that. Come looking for us.”
Trafalgar nodded. “It’s a possibility. But given the fact he’ll be facing two charges of kidnapping and imprisonment, I doubt he wants to show his face in London any time soon for anything as petty as revenge. He’ll stay on the move, where it’s more difficult for the authorities to find him. But not impossible. A circus must advertise, after all.” She smiled. “I have a feeling Mr. Valbuena will be far too busy running to worry about something as petty as revenge.”
“A dangerous game,” Violet said. “But I trust you.”
Trafalgar shifted on the bed, a silent invitation for Violet to change position as well. Violet did as she intended, lifting up just enough to move on top of Trafalgar. They kissed again, properly and at length. Trafalgar’s hands moved under the blankets and began a slow but thorough exploration. She twisted her head to the side and spoke as she kissed her way across Violet’s cheek, over the border of her jaw, down to her throat.
“I shall try to be more careful for your benefit, my love.”
“See that you do.” Violet’s voice was soft, distracted, and her fingers tugged at Trafalgar’s nightgown in a series of increasingly frustrated plucks. “Why did I ever buy you this blasted thing...?”
“Because you love a challenge.”
“Mm.”
The problem of the nightgown was quickly solved and, two minutes later, Trafalgar gripped the headboard with both hands, eyes struggling to stay focused on the crown of blonde curls between her thighs. She was losing the battle when there was a knock on the door.
Trafalgar exhaled in frustration even as Violet lifted her head and wiped the back of her hand across her bottom lip. She looked toward the door, then looked at Trafalgar.
“It might be an issue with the girls.”
Trafalgar made a noise very much unlike a human sound. Violet pushed herself up and Trafalgar pulled her legs back and put her feet on the floor. She wrapped herself in a robe and went to the door, opening it just wide enough to see who was foolish enough to be interrupting them.
Captain Araminta Crook had the good grace to look ashamed of herself, head down and eyes up, features twisted into a wince that almost looked like a smile.
“Apologies,” she said. “I wanted to give you some time to settle in before I disturbed you, and I didn’t realize just how settled you were until I had knocked, and then it seemed like it would be even worse to interrupt for no reason...”
“It’s fine, Minty...”
“No it’s not.”
“No, it’s not, but it happened and I will try not to hold it against you.”
Araminta cleared her throat and stood up straighter. “I was hoping to have a word with you privately.”
Trafalgar nodded. She could hear Violet had already gotten out of bed and was in the process of getting dressed.
“Just give us a moment to get decent.”
“Actually I just meant you, if that’s not too rude. I have no doubt you’ll share what we discuss with your lovely wife afterward, but I’d like to keep the initial conversation just between us.”
Trafalgar looked into the room. Violet only had on a shirt, her long bare legs stretching out from underneath. Her hair was tangled, and the flush in her cheeks only enhanced her freckles. Trafalgar felt an almost painful longing for her. Violet, unaware of Trafalgar’s ogling, just nodded and motioned for her to go as she pulled on a pair of trousers.
“Give me a moment to dress and I’ll come find you,” Trafalgar said.
“I’ll be on the viewing deck, at the windows.” She started to leave, then came back. “And, um... give your wife my most sincere apologies, hm...?”
Trafalgar smiled as she closed the door on her.
“Everything okay?” Violet asked.
“Uncertain.” She threw on a shirt and quickly buttoned it, stepping into a pair of trousers. “Hopefully it won’t take too long. I look forward to seeing where you were going with our conversation.”
Violet arched an eyebrow. “I intended to make some very strong points.”
“Hm.” Trafalgar patted Violet’s rear end as she headed out.
The viewing deck was a long corridor which ran along the length of the airship’s gondola, a wall of windows which looked out over the French coastline. It was night but she could still see the scattered lights of cities far below, and the curling ribbons of smoke rising up from chimneys that indicated people starting their days.
Araminta was waiting, as promised, and she had a bottle of wine balanced on the railing. She was still in her uniform - red leather jacket and tan jodhpurs with knee-length boots - but the jacket was unbuttoned at the collar to reveal a plain white tee-shirt underneath. Her hair was also down, revealing a multitude of thick silver waves that her updo had been struggling to conceal the past few years.
“Drinking on duty, Captain Crook?” Trafalgar chided.
Araminta smiled. “I’m not above it, on occasion. But no, this is for you and Madam Violet as an apology for the interruption.”
She took the bottle and examined the label. It was a nice vintage, but not nice enough for her to refuse as being too generous.
“Unnecessary but appreciated nonetheless,” Trafalgar said. “I must say I’m intrigued if you have a topic that can’t be brought up in front of Violet.”
“I’m not sure how sensitive it is, but decided to err on the side of caution.” She rested her arms on the railing and looked out the window. “It’s regarding Lady Boone.”
Trafalgar tensed and joined Araminta at the railing. “I see.” She considered her next words very carefully. “Lady Boone and I haven’t spoken in quite some time.”
“I’m aware. But the thing is, I haven’t heard from her in a while, either. It’s been over a year since she took advantage of our arrangement.”
Trafalgar frowned. “That’s peculiar. I haven’t heard of her getting up to anything in London, either. She must be doing something to keep busy.”
“I would imagine,” Araminta said. “I asked around at the Rookery, but none of the other pilots have been charted, either. I tried to call on her a few months ago, but she never responded to my letters and the house seemed abandoned when I visited. I think she must in there.”
“She has to leave sometime. If just for food.”
Araminta shrugged. “I can only report my own experiences. I was also hoping you could provide your own, given that you’re both members of the Mnemosyne Society.”
“Technically,” Trafalgar said. “Dor-- Lady Boone hasn’t attended any meetings since our partnership collapsed. I assume other members would have spoken up if she’d reached out to any of them, but there hasn’t been a peep. Unless they’ve been instructed not to tell me about it, which has to be a possibility.”
“Yes, I gathered it wasn’t an especially harmonious parting of the ways. It’s one reason I wasn’t sure if I should mention her in front of Violet.”
Trafalgar shook her head. “It wouldn’t have been a problem. I’m not sure I’m the best person to reach out to her. Honestly I think literally anyone would be a better choice.”
“I think you’re wrong. But someone has to reach out. She’s been in a downward spiral for years. You must have noticed. Even when she was still hiring us to go on expeditions, she was a changed woman. Withdrawn, terse, sometimes even rude to the crew. She locked herself in her berth for the duration of the trip and barely spoke three words to me unless it was absolutely necessary. I was... I was actually trying to come up with a way of rescinding my offer of the Skylarker’s services when she stopped calling.”
“You were going to end your arrangement?”
“It wasn’t an action I would’ve taken lightly,” Araminta sighed, sounding guilty even though she hadn’t gone through with it. “The woman gave me a chance to say goodbye to my wife before she died. That’s a kindness I can never repay in full. But for the first time I felt as if she was taking advantage of us. Treating us like servants. She had us traveling all over the world. Russia to drop her off, back a few weeks later to pick her up and take her into the Congo, another retrieval, then to... to... somewhere in the Middle East. She had us covering thousands and miles and barely made eye contact with me while she was aboard. Forget about treating my crew with respect. I can suck it up, but I refuse to let my crew be treated that way.”
Trafalgar nodded. “I understand. But I have to admit, I’m shocked Dorothy would be so disrespectful.”
“I’m worried about her. She needs someone who cares enough to check in on her, and is strong enough to stay no matter what she does to try to turn you away.”
“You have a high opinion of my abilities,” Trafalgar said.
“I fear that she’s so far gone that you’re the only one who even has a chance of getting through to her. She always had a very short list of friends, and an even shorter one of people she trusted with her life. You were engraved on that shorter list, Trafalgar.”
“And then the stone it was engraved on was shattered,” Trafalgar said. “We’ve been estranged longer than we were partners. And before that, we considered each other enemies. Seeing me on her front step may only drive her deeper into seclusion.”
“That’s possible,” Araminta admitted. “But at this point I think it’s worth trying. She’s already falling farther and farther with each passing day. Unless someone reaches out and risks her claws, I fear she’ll never find her way back to us.”
Trafalgar nodded slowly. “I think I agree. I hope you’re right.” She shook her head and looked out the window again. “And God help us if you’re wrong...”