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“SO, WHAT'LL IT BE, Kier Bennet?” Wickham asked her protégé, who preemptively winced as the needle hovered near his neck. “What are you getting? A snake, a cross, a sword or... ooo, maybe a dragon like mine?” She rolled up her sleeve, reminding him of the tattoo on her forearm.
“Something small is preferable,” the bookish Bennet whimpered. “So... a snake, perhaps? I cannot believe I let you pressure me into such a thing!”
Georgette lightly swatted his arm. “Oh, but it'll be amazing!”
“No. It will look ridiculous on me. I am not the sort of man who has tattoos, Captain Wickham. I'm just... not,” Kier insisted. “However, if you think it will improve my credibility as a pirate, I am willing to try.”
“But you like my tattoos, eh?” The needle was descending on him, so Wickham dragged a hand through Kier's dark hair. It was meant to be a comforting gesture, but after a few gentle strokes, she decided it was too intimate, and her hand returned to her side.
“The tattoos look lovely on you. But they would look ooooowww God!” Kier clenched his teeth as the needle poked his skin. “Good Lord, this is really quite painful!”
“Indeed. But you're tough. You shall endure it.”
“Tough? Really? What could have possibly put such an idea into your head?” Kier tried to ignore the constant sting of pain. He wanted to look calm and stoic, if only to impress the captain. But it was difficult.
“Well, you had an overbearing father, an uncaring mother, and four brothers who insisted on keeping you in the shadow,” Wickham knew enough about his history to speak of his hardships. “But you came out of it with a smile, so you must be tough.”
“I am certainly not smiling now, however!” Kier whimpered. “In fact, my smiles are actually quite rare, so I believe you are mistaken, Captain Wickham!”
Georgette grabbed Kier's hand and held it close to her lips. “If I could take away your pain, I would,” she told him.
“I find that amusing, since you are the one who is putting me through this agonizing moment!” Kier scowled at Wickham's tattoo artist. “What is she etching into my skin, dare I ask? Is it a dragon? It certainly feels large enough to be a dragon.”
“It's a serpent,” croaked the sullen tattooist.
“Ah. A serpent.” Kier winced. “Captain Wickham, I hope you realize I will be permanently disowned by my family for this... assuming I am not disowned already. I cannot imagine it would be possible to conceal a tattoo on my neck. When Papa sees it, he will need his smelling salts! Fortunately, I was always his least favorite, so I doubt it will be the death of him.”
“Well, you're still my favorite Bennet, if it's any consolation,” Georgette claimed. “Oh, and once your tattoo is complete, you have a sword lesson to attend.” Kier Bennet had become her project. She was determined to turn him into a flourishing member of her crew.
“Alright,” Kier acquiesced. He wanted to protest, but he already knew it was pointless to disagree with Captain Wickham.
In less than two hours, Kier's tattoo was complete. His serpent was small, but it ran along the length of his neck. Its body was green and narrow, and it was flicking its tongue. Georgette encouraged him to rise and check the looking glass. As soon as he saw it, he gasped.
“And there it is...” Kier accepted his transformed skin with a sigh. “When I see my father again, remind me to bring the smelling salts.”
“Ah, but I love it!” Georgette coiled an arm around Kier's shoulder and swapped smiles with the Wickham in the looking glass. Kier's appearance was so altered, he was starting to look like a pirate. The solemn boy with the straight black hair and starched cravat was gone. He had a white shirt, no necktie, fingerless gloves, and a long black coat. His hair was disheveled, his ear was pierced, and his neck tattoo was visible above a high collar. By some miracle, she had turned him into a man who looked like danger. “You look handsome, Kier Bennet.”
“Handsome?” His eyes rolled at the word. “I do not.”
“But you do! You looked like an unpleasant little prat before. Now you look like someone I'd like to—”
When she didn't finish her sentence, Kier gave her a nudge. “Someone you'd like to what?”
Kiss. She wanted to kiss him. Georgette had never been a timid girl—so why didn't she tell him?
“Nothing. It's not important.” Georgette pushed him from the room and guided him to the stairs. As they climbed to the deck, she announced, “It's time for your sword lesson.”
Georgette put a rapier in his hand and recited instructions as simply as she could. She taught him the appropriate stance, how to bend his knees, and how to shuffle forward. She showed him a basic lunge, which he copied without looking too ridiculous. Once, when the tip of his blade came close to piercing her shoulder, she spewed praise for nearly five minutes.
“Honestly, no new student's ever come that close to drawing blood on Georgette Wickham,” the pirate captain said. “If you actually pierced my skin, I would consider you my soulmate.”
“So... if I stabbed you, you would find that endearing?”
“Aye. I like the idea of a man who can handle a blade.” Georgette grinned at him. “Do you know what would be even better than that? A man who can handle a gun. Let's practice your shooting, shall we?”
Georgette set up a gallery of empty bottles and put a pistol in his hand. Kier's skills were so vastly improved, he shattered three bottles in a row, one after another. Georgette trilled with delight as glass rained all over her airship's deck.
“What happened?” she gasped. “I didn't expect you to get so good in such a short amount of time!”
“I have no idea how I did that,” Kier admitted, suppressing a smile. He didn't want his pride to show on his face. “I must have gotten lucky.”
“But I object! It takes skill to shoot like that. You're a boy after my own heart, I swear.” Georgette readjusted his collar as she stood in front of him. “I'm not even angry that you sneaked onto my airship anymore. I'm glad you're here.”
His dark eyes went wide at the thought. “Really?”
“Aye. I like having you around. Is it odd?”
As Kier's head shook, Georgette leaned forward. Her lips were pursed, ever-so-slightly, and he swore she was going to kiss him.
Kier was so alarmed by the possibility of Georgette's kiss, he dropped his pistol. The gun discharged upon landing, and a bullet sailed into the sky.
“Good god!” Georgette gasped. “You can't just drop your gun like that, mate! Are you trying to murder me?”
“No!”
“You're actually a spy for Lady Catherine, and you really want to put a bullet in my head?”
Her suspicions made him chuckle. “No! Are you serious?”
“Of course not. You aren't wily enough to be a spy, and she's not clever enough to plant one on my ship.” Georgette's clenched knuckles playfully crashed into his arm. “I was just teasing you, Kier. No need to look so panicked! Now... let's head to the helm, shall we?” Georgette wasn't giving him a choice. She seized his hand and whisked him away.
“Why are we going to the helm?”
“You've swabbed the deck. You've fired guns. You can do a bit of fencing...” Georgette's smile grew as she named his newest skills. “You even have a tattoo. But you're not officially a sky pirate until you've piloted an airship!”
“Are you... serious?” Kier's stomach was a mess of nerves, even before they reached the helm.
“Aye. Why not? You might even be the first man who's ever flown one. Lucky you.”
When they reached their destination, Wickham dismissed the ship's pilot and put Kier's hand on the wheel.
“Aaaah!” Kier's fingers clenched around one of the wheel's wooden handles. “What do I do? Should you not impart some proper instructions first?”
“Keep it steady. That's the only lesson you need.”
Kier's eyelids batted at the simplicity of her tutelage. “That cannot be all there is to it!”
“It's not. But I'm standing right beside you, so if something unexpected happens, I'll seize control from your pretty little hands.”
“Pretty little hands...” Kier whispered, glancing down at his slender fingers.
“Well, they are pretty,” Georgette insisted. “As are your eyes.”
Though he kept his focus on the wheel, Kier studied her in the corner of his eye. She was standing so close, his hands perspired at her nearness. “Why have you given me so much special attention?” Kier asked. “No one ever has.”
“I know. Perhaps that's why I find you so interesting?” Georgette's head cocked as she tried to figure out his appeal. “No one's ever given you the attention you deserve. It's a tragedy.”
“Georgette...” Kier kept an eye on her, but he never faced her direction. “I... I think you're really lovely, you know. I think you're—”
A hiss of static from Georgette's pocket silenced Kier's confession. “Hold that thought,” she mumbled to Kier, then she smashed the teletalk's red button. “Hello? Is there someone there?”
“Of course, Wickham, of course!” replied a haughty, familiar voice. A chill ran along Georgette's spine when she recognized it. “Do you know who this is?”
Holding the teletalk closer to her painted lips, Georgette whispered, “Catherine.”
“Indeed. Lady Catherine,” the woman corrected her. “You're probably wondering how I am able to communicate through this device, but I would rather not divulge my secrets. Only know this: you are not as clever as you believe yourself to be.”
“What do you want?” Georgette croaked into the teletalk.
“You have my Wilhelmina, do you not? You needn't zzzzzt an answer. I know you do.” Catherine's voice was guttural and cold, like something from a nightmare. “And I'll be coming for her soon.”
“Go ahead and try,” the pirate taunted her.
“I shall. And it will be easy, I'm sure. I heard an odd rumor that you've started recruiting young men! You must be truly desperate if you're hiring boys to take up arms for you!”
“The boys are more capable than you think, my lady,” Georgette said, smiling at Kier. “So, by all means... come. We'll be ready for you.”
“You will not!” Catherine laughed. “I'll strike when you least expect it. And you can say goodbye to another... what is the name of your humdrum little airship? Refresh my memory.”
“The Dashing Lady,” Georgette flatly replied.
“Ah, yes. The Dashing Lady. I should try to remember the name, as I shall be destroying another one soon enough,” the old woman promised her. “And this time, I will take you down, or die trying.”
“You better start looking for coffins then, love. You'll want a nice, big one. Farewell.”
Georgette's lips wore a wicked grin as her finger released the teletalk's button.