Chapter Two

 

Two weeks passed without much to do but Mache never managed to become bored. Needing little sleep, Valeria woke him for breakfast early in the morning. Mache sat and talked to her, often answering questions she stockpiled in the night, until she went to conduct her experiments and build her prototypes. Once, she came and dragged him away from trying to work out how to cook a carrot to show him something, holding his hand in her natural hand and explaining it to him in rapid fire words, bouncing up and down in excitement. He watched her more than he listened.

Her eye patch was flipped up, her hair streaked with oil and a smudge of some sort of bright red dust on her cheek, her breathing rapid and excited. “You explaining what the auto adjuster was gave me an idea to use a similar system of weights to power joints. It would be a cheap way to get rid of the steam engines I have to attach to the limbs I make for the public now. Look at this prototype!”

She picked up a tangle of wires in the rough shape of an arm.

“Why don’t you make your kind of limbs for the public?” he asked. “Like your hand? You mentioned they were expensive but for something like that surely it would be better to lower the price and get more sales?”

She beamed. “You mean like my hand? It’s a dangerous and long procedure. I didn’t have anything to lose. If you’re going to chop off a hand, you’d need to have a guarantee of the replacement being better, wouldn’t you? Some people will take the risk, but not many.”

He found himself slightly less queasy than usual at the thought, probably because of the smug excitement in her expression. “I see. This will make normal limbs better?”

“Leagues better,” she exclaimed. “Instead of lugging around the engine to work it, they shift the remainder of their limb in the framework, which sets off the weights and moves the arm as desired. Oh, I can’t wait.”

Mache chuckled, reaching out to rub the streak of red off of her cheek, smoothing her hair back in the meantime. “I’ll come get you for dinner, ok?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” she said, already bending over the prototype, head tilted to put her artificial eye close to her work, hand splitting open to attack the wires and weights.

* * * *

It was two in the morning when Valeria shook Mache awake. Her breathing was hard and she was kneeling over him. He blinked as her hair tickled his lips, murmuring, “Valeria?”

“Mache,” she whispered. “You have to get up.” She reached out, pulling at him to get up faster, cupping his cheeks. “Mache, the CEO.”

“What?” He snapped awake. His eyes widened, suddenly at full attention. She wasn’t even fully dressed, clearly in her underwear and the same shirt she always wore without the leather bustier. His eyes widened as he realized the lamp she’d put on the floor illuminated every last curve before her words sank in again. “What again?” he mumbled. “The CEO?”

“Yes! She called me only a few minutes ago.” She followed his gaze, gulping. “I–I–you need to get up.”

“I’m up.”

“I mean get dressed.”

Mache winced, turning his head. “Okay. Right. Should I make the bed?”

“Change the sheets. They’re in the drawer over there.” She pointed and got up, backing away. The lamp light continued to make her distracting and Mache stayed firmly under the sheets as she reached the door.

“Do you need help?” she asked.

“Nope,” Mache said. “Just…er…you’d better go get ready.”

“Okay,” she said, looking down at herself again and bolting out of the room. Mache tossed the blankets aside as soon as the door closed, ignoring his clamoring blood, and grabbed sheets off the bed as fast as he could. Replacing them took longer than he would have liked, being a bachelor, but it gave him time to cool down. He hoped she had enough sense to dress by the time he came out again or this was going to be difficult to say the least.

When he came out to the kitchen, though, her bustier was in place, her pants and socks pulled on and immaculate. She was packing a box with food and drink, and shoved it at him. “Here. Take this into the ballroom, where you landed.”

“Wh–”

“Go,” she said, “I have to make sure everything’s in order. I’ll come help you. Just take that down and wait without touching anything.”

Mache followed her orders, trotting down to the big room and sitting on the grating where he had cut his face two weeks before. He touched his cheek, pleased with its healing progress. He looked out of the windows, admiring the way the city was still lit even at night, yellow fire and green phosphorous mixing eerily.

It was fifteen minutes before Valeria came down to him, pushing another box into his hands, panting as she hugged him. “Mache, I’m so sorry.”

He blinked. “For what?” She was crying. He pulled her closer, smoothing her hair. “Valeria, what’s wrong?”

“The CEO! When she sent her communication, I was prepared to tell her about you. I thought she would understand, let you stay.” Mache gulped as she muffled a sob with her natural hand. “She also sent a report of a factory that was infiltrated and…” She hiccupped. “…And they hanged the people who helped them!”

Mache shivered. That sounded much more up Elthgo’s alley. “You didn’t say anything?” he asked.

She shook her head. “If I had…if I’d reported you…” She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him. “Mache, they plucked the intruders’ eyes from their heads, beat them, and set them wandering the streets as beggars! How could they?”

He stroked her hair but could think of nothing to say. Elthgo certainly knew how to market a fate worse than death–blind and delirious with pain, wandering the streets? He wondered if he should stay any longer, provided he could even survive this visit. “It’s okay, Valeria. You didn’t know. I understand.”

“I might have killed you,” she whispered. “I might have killed you.”

Mache pushed her back enough to look into her face. “You didn’t. Now, where am I going to hide?”

She swallowed and pointed up. “There’s a crawlspace in the ceiling. You can access it from the stairs.” She chewed her lip. “It’s cool, I think, and loud since it’s connected to the engine room, but the air is clean and you should be able to hide out.” She took his hand, bringing him to the stairway and pointing. “If you can get up there I’ll hand the boxes to you.”

He nodded, bringing the boxes over and reached up, grasping the corner where the ceiling lay closest to the stairs, flicking a lever. The crawlspace door popped open. With a bit of maneuvering he managed to get himself in feet first. It was a space four feet by four feet. Not the most comfortable. Still, better than the alternative. Valeria handed him a box wordlessly.

“Mache,” she murmured. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to hear.” She reached into the belt-pack at her waist, extracting a long, slim stick. “When I come down, watch me. My hair will be up until she leaves. Once I’m sure she’s gone, I’ll come here and let down my hair.”

Mache reached down to her. “Until you let down your hair then,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine for a week with all this food.”

“Please be okay,” she whispered, and reached to him, putting her hands in his. “I can’t lose you, Mache.”

He squeezed her hands and then grinned, sliding his fingers lower, past her wrists, and lifted her up. Valeria squeaked but didn’t thrash as he lifted her off the stairs, bent his head and kissed her.

His arm muscles wouldn’t let him keep the kiss any longer than a blink, and he lowered her carefully back to the stairs, not allowing her time to dither. “I’ll be fine. You go show her how brilliant you are.” He pushed back, closing the vent behind him and feeling rather triumphant. That would be enough to last him the rest of week.

* * * *

Waiting was boring and wait Mache did. Occasionally he heard a voice, but Valeria was right. The vent was loud and well insulated. Whether he could even hear his own voice depended on the work of the engine and the wind’s direction. Thankfully he could see. There were several fist-sized holes in the vent, allowing him to see into various parts of the ballroom, mostly the corners and out the windows.

It was through one of these holes Mache first spotted the CEO of Elthgo, Inc. She was a beautifully severe woman, clothed in khaki and black. She wore her flying goggles pushed into her smooth dark hair, glasses low on her nose. It took several hours to realize the CEO was tall. She towered over Valeria by at least a foot, a height that dwarfed Mache and most men he knew. Her shoulders were broad and strong, heavy with muscle but not hard of line, her corset revealing a fine bosom and two-tailed coat giving whisper to fine curves. She was striking and beautiful in an Amazonian way, despite her fine dress. No wonder she was the CEO! Few men would be able to compete against a woman with the smarts and the ability to look down on her employees and competitors. From the way she conversed with Valeria, she was clearly intelligent.

Mache couldn’t hear the words they were speaking. The CEO smoothed the coat ruffles around her wrist and patted Valeria’s head like a proud mother. Valeria smiled, but Mache could sense unease in her stance. He grimaced in silence. If their plan failed, this was who would be dealing him punishment. He wasn’t certain he could win in a straight fight. She looked like she could wield a gun, sip tea with a queen, or slog into a bar fight.

They finished some sort of deal and left the room. Mache was resigned to napping and watching out the windows again, waiting for dusk. He tried to do some sort of exercise to pass the time but found himself obsessing over whether they could hear the creaks of push ups. He counted the airfoils flying close to them, spent a bit of time worrying whether his boss would be able to track him down, wondering if they’d held a funeral or just written it off with the life insurance.

It occurred to him that starting life over in a dirigible with a beautiful inventor was certainly romantic but it wasn’t the best of plans. Especially given who owned the dirigible. It was done now and there wasn’t much he could do about it other than stew, now that he was wedged into the air vent waiting for Valeria to come and let down her hair.

She came down several times. For two and a half days he watched her come to the great ball room and sit beneath the chandelier, eye patch flipped up and magnifying glasses on the bridge of her nose, working.

It was soothing to see. He watched her in the night, taking a chair to work on a project, and longed to call out and make sure she was fine. Was the CEO treating her well where he could not see? Was she was still happy here? The CEO came down, speaking to Valeria. He was grateful he had not called out as he had wished.

Late in the afternoon on the third day, Mache watched as Valeria came down, her hair still in a knot at the base of her skull. He watched silently, antsy and exhausted of being cooped up, pleading without sound, Valeria. Valeria. Let down your hair.

She watched out of the window for a long time, raising a hand to the glass, and finally sighed. She rubbed her neck for a moment before reaching up her long fingers to tug the stick, letting her tresses untwine and tumble down her back.

Mache breathed a sigh of relief and scrambled out, kicking the vent door open and sliding out as fast as he could. He cleared the six-foot drop with a grunt as his legs slammed into the grating. They immediately started to tingle in protest. The pain didn’t matter when Valeria swept into his arms, crying out.

“Mache! I’m so relieved.”

“Val–” He lost balance and fell back, taking the blond woman with him. His knees buckled in self protection and he pulled her forward. He landed with a faint groan, quickly silenced as Valeria shifted her weight up and kissed him.

Mache blinked, covered in golden hair. It clouded his vision and tickled his nose. She slid more firmly into his lap, wrapping slim arms around him, pressing her chest to his and kissing him for all she was worth. Reward for waiting in the vent all this time? Retribution for surprising her before he went in? Relief?

Hell, who cared? He returned the kiss, cupping her cheek and sliding fingers into her hair, his free hand pressing her closer, stroking over the stays of her corset. He’d learned the trick from a noble woman. “Taking off a woman’s corset is akin to laying with her in terms of pleasure and relief,” she’d said, “so give such an act proper respect and twice as much foreplay.”

As kisses went, it started off pretty good, but lost momentum quickly. Valeria gasped and pulled back, her face bright red. “I…I only…” She gulped.

Fully perplexed with this new development, as most every girl he’d managed to kiss had known exactly what kisses devolved to, Mache blinked and didn’t speak.

“I’ve been waiting,” she blurted, and stood. “I mean, since you–” She cut off. Tried again. “I wanted…”

He still wasn’t sure where she was going with this and stayed still, praying she didn’t press her hand anywhere he’d have to explain matters.

“You kissed me and I wanted to return the favor,” she sputtered, “That’s all!” Shifting foot to foot, she gulped, looked at her hands. “So, um, don’t get any ideas.”

Mache coughed. “Right, no ideas,” he said. “I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.” Damn, he could be a bad liar.

She didn’t seem to notice, looking to one side of the staircase to the other, and finally offering, “I’ll make dinner tonight. You can set up your room again.” She stepped around him and practically bolted up the stairs. He turned to look after her but could only watch her boot soles as they clattered against the grating.

Mache leaned back, sighing as his feet came back to life with an unpleasant tingle. It didn’t do anything to banish a smile. She liked him. That was nice because he liked her too. Now the question was how to make her see it without bolting in confusion.

Ah well, it looked as if he had time.

* * * *

She was cooking when Mache emerged from his room and she didn’t seem interested in discussing the fact that half an hour ago they’d been rather heavily kissing. Mache sensed there would be no rushing this, though. He engaged her in other conversation, asking what the CEO thought of her prototype, whether she said anything of note about the spies in the factory, noting her impressive stature.

“She’s nice to me,” Valeria said as she kept her eyes on the plate in front of her. “When I was younger she used to stay longer and tell me stories, and taught me how to cook and keep my own house, but I outgrew that ages ago.”

“I see. She’s practically your mother.” Mache said.

Valeria smiled up at him, her expression relieved and concerned at once, as if she were afraid he’d attack her across the table. “Yes, exactly.”

“Did she tell you about men too?” he asked as gently as he was able.

Her natural hand twitched around her fork and her gaze hit the table again, flushing. “Some,” she said, trembling.

Mache restrained himself from reaching over, reminding himself that for all he knew, the CEO could have taught her men were corset-ripping, sex-crazed maniacs. “What’d she say?”

“That I was better off without one,” Valeria said, looking off to the side. “That she’d survived these years because she kept men at arm’s length and I should consider doing the same.”

“You don’t think she’s ever lain with a man?” Mache asked. He severely doubted it. A woman so beautiful and intimidating would have attracted at least a few admirers.

Valeria blushed brighter. “Of course she has,” she said. “She’s got two children.” She shifted in her chair. “And both their fathers wound up trying to steal the company from her, ‘for her own good’.” Valeria swallowed. “She says men can’t accept you might be smarter than they are. They marginalize you, tie you down, fear your success.”

Mache tilted his head. “When did she tell you this?” he asked.

“Last night.”

Mache was silent, taking the time to take a bite of salad, chew and swallow and think. The CEO was a smart lady and he could see why she’d come into success, though he felt sorry for the two husbands. Still, he could understand. Intelligence was intimidating. He could get the gist of what Valeria was saying most of the time, though she still outstripped him. She always would. It was a valid question. Could he handle being the un-smart one? Could he handle being the lesser of the two of them?

“Mache?” she asked, sounding almost frightened.

He started in his thoughts, looked at her and smiled. “Maybe she’s right.”

“Really?” Valeria asked, sounding on the edge of being heartbroken.

Mache shrugged. “Maybe you’d technically be better off. Certainly I’m a distraction and I could be an even bigger distraction. And I can’t promise to always be content with not being the one who takes care of you, but I think she missed an important point.”

Valeria swallowed. “What’s that?”

Mache patted her hand. “She’s the CEO. You’re Valeria. She’s tried love and it didn’t work for her. Have you ever tried love?”

Valeria blushed, looked down again and shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “Never.”

He fought a triumphant smile. “And does a scientist ever draw a conclusion without experimentation?”

“If the conclusion is obvious enough, yes. I mean, clearly if an unknown element floats in water I can conclude that its mass-to-volume ratio is sufficient to at least be less than that of water.”

Mache snorted water through his nose and immediately spit it back out in a laugh. “Right,” he said, still laughing. “Do you have enough information to draw a conclusion yet?”

Valeria was quiet. “No, I guess not,” she said. She looked up. “Will you help me?”

Grinning, Mache held up his cup. “Here to serve, m’lady.”

Valeria’s smile broke free as he beamed and she handed him a napkin. “You’ve got water on your face,” she said.

“How rude of me,” he said, wiping himself off. “At least I showered before coming to the table. Not a total oaf.”

“Not at all an oaf,” she corrected, relaxing. “At least, I don’t think so.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” Mache said, and handed the napkin back.

* * * *

Mache took his time. More than wanting to prove to her men were not out to drag her down, he hated to disappoint or spook Valeria because though she didn’t often get frightened, when she did it was deep and pervading. He wasn’t sure whom she was more afraid of, though, him or herself.

Going slow was difficult. Though most times their interactions were much the same, discussions of flying, lessons, her inventions, who would cook what, it was two weeks before he could kiss her for longer than fifteen seconds. Often he wondered if she’d been mentally counting. When he asked, she laughed and asked why he would think that, nearly proving it. He kept cool and pointed out it was acceptable to kiss for longer in private, which they most certainly were.

It helped that she was a fascinating person to kiss. Sometimes she opened deep, sometimes only barely. Sometimes she reacted without reservation. Sometimes he could barely get a hint of warmth off of her, as if she’d clamped her hand and a hundred blankets over the light of her emotions. He remained patient, reminding himself of her seclusion, her age, her upbringing, and it was easier. When she reached out and pulled him closer by the hair one day he knew that, despite her occasional coolness, she felt him keenly.

He’d never entered her room, allowing her the privacy he felt was necessary to stay with him and still have a place to run to if she spooked. It surprised him when she pulled him in of her own accord as he wished her goodnight and closed the door.

“Valeria?” he asked, unable to see in the darkened room.

He heard her swallow. “I wanted you to see…promise not to tease?”

“Cross my heart,” he said, perplexed as to why she would be worried.

She turned up a lamp to illuminate the room. Mache stared.

The rest of the ship was immaculately neat and organized. Everything in its place, everything kept to its cubby. Her lab was full, yes, but with an inherent organization.

Valeria’s room was smaller than the one he’d been staying in. It was still roomy enough. However, it was filled, hilly nilly, with thousands of trinkets, statues, balls of various types of wire and small glass figurines in odd shapes. It was completely in disarray. Mache smelled no hint it was dirty, only chaotic.

“A reflection of the genius mind?” he asked.

She hit his shoulder, pouting. “I told you not to make fun!”

“Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands. “Sorry, okay, that’s all. Actually I think it’s lovely. Proves you’re human like the rest of us.”

“You were worried?” She asked in true affront.

Mache took her hands, kissing both before pressing his lips to the tip of her nose. “Of course not. I’m just saying how nice it is to see a space of your own.”

“I can clean up if you want to stay,” she stuttered.

“Don’t be silly,” he said, and took her in his arms. He tried not to shiver in anticipation, instead asking. “Do you really want me to stay?”

She gulped and cautiously nuzzled his shoulder. “I…yes. I…” She took a deep breath, “I think of you all night when you go to bed and it drives me crazy, Mache! I feel hot and restless and it’s impossible to sleep. I want you here so I can feel you rather than wishing I could.”

It took an awful lot of control not to stiffen at the description. He managed it with a meditative thought on a circus show he’d once seen of the bearded lady, supplementing it with an image of his boss’s wife who once tried to lure him into bed. He let out a breath and hugged her close. “Sure I’ll stay,” he said and glanced at the bed, pleased to find it was big enough for the two of them and more.

She sighed. “Good,” she said. “Even if I have to sleep in my clothes it’ll be nice to have you close.”

Mache chuckled. “You don’t have to keep all your clothes on, you know. Your shirt and pants should be fine. I’ve never worn one but I’m sure corsets can’t be comfortable to sleep in.”

“I’ve done it,” she protested. “I’ll be fine.”

Mache backed off, vowing to try again tomorrow. “If it makes you feel better,” he said. “Let me know if you want it off, though. I promise not to do anything untoward.”

She smiled, turning to kiss him. “I love you,” she said. “Thank you.”

He started, mind stumbling. When was the last time someone had said that? When was the last time he had agreed? “You’re welcome,” he said. It didn’t matter about the last time. He was here now. “I love you too.”

As they settled in, shoes off, Mache realized this was the longest he’d gone without properly bedding a woman. And it was the first time the words were said before the actions taken. Maybe he was doing it the right way this time? It wasn’t that he was a ladies’ man. He’d just never put the effort in. He supposed anyone who could be worth going slowly for was worth doing things the right way to boot.

Valeria turned to lay on his shoulder. “It’s nice.” She murmured. “You here, I mean.”

“Sure is,” he replied, stroked her hair, and drifted off to sleep.

They slept. They woke and spent several hours paying attention to little else but each other. Mache taught her the meaning of a morning in bed, breakfast brought and responsibilities forgone. She worried and also delighted in it.

The CEO came and went again a month later and Mache spent the entire time in solitude thinking of Valeria–the scent of her hair, the softness of her skin, the way he had, only once, gotten a soft moan out of her when he kissed her neck. Each time she came into the room he watched her hungrily, pleading Valeria, Valeria…let down your hair.

And eventually, she did. She stepped into the ballroom, looked out the window for a long moment, raised her hand, and pulled the pin down. Mache wasted no time in getting to her, sweeping her into his arms and kissing her.

“Did the CEO say anything?” he asked, stroking her hair.

She shook her head, smiling up at him, her eye patch flipped down, glasses pushed up on her head. “Only that I seemed happier than the last time she was here.”

He laughed, catching her lips, lifting her close. “Are you?”

“Yes,” she said, and touched his face. “I love you and I am happy with you.”

“And I with you,” he murmured, taking both of her hands and holding them to his chest. She looked up and he kissed her again, murmuring. “It’s nice that you say how you feel, Valeria.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked.

He smiled. “Exactly. I love you.”

That night she allowed him to unlace her corset, and Mache was certain to take all the care he possibly could in doing so.

* * * *

The CEO came and went two more times. Mache made certain Valeria never neglected her work for long so the CEO would not realize her ward was being distracted.

Occasionally he watched Valeria work, marveling at the way her split hand moved with no less than four tiny screw drivers, the way her hair draped as she leaned over a tiny operation with her golden eye, patch flipped up. His favorite, though, were the days when she worked mostly on paper, and put on the glasses with many magnifications. When she looked up at him on those days, her golden eye and blue eye were thrown into relief against each other and she seemed particularly beautiful.

She chanced to look up, and saw him watching. She smiled. “I see you.” she said.

“Caught me,” he replied, smiling and coming into the lab. She stood up, holding out her arms and he caught her up into a kiss. As he held her, she nuzzled into his shoulder, humming. “You okay?” he asked as she yawned.

“Fine.” she said, nodding. “My stomach was upset this morning.”

“Hmm, I’m fine,” he said. He kissed her forehead. “My fault. I must not have washed the lettuce enough.”

“Maybe,” she said. “I’ve still got to fix this prototype so the CEO can take it back to the ground the next time she comes.”

“When is that supposed to be?” he asked.

“Next week sometime,” she said, not letting go of Mache.

He made a mental note to supplement his supplies and pack everything away. At least now that he slept with Valeria nightly they didn’t have to worry about changing the guest room sheets. Kissing her cheek, he rubbed her back. “All right. I’ll let you get back to work.”

She sighed, lazily kissing his neck. There was faint plink as something dropped to the ground and bounced a few times.

Mache looked down and chuckled. “Butter fingers,” he said, and knelt to pick up the small metal ring which had dropped out of Valeria’s hands.

“It’s an extra piece I was able to parse off,” Valeria said as he held it up to her. “I was keeping it on my finger until I could put it with the scraps.”

“Were you?” he asked, taking her hand. He smiled and slipped the gold onto the finger it looked best to fit. “Hm. Maybe you should keep it there.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, perplexed, as she studied the wire he’d put onto her ring finger. “It might get in the way.”

He stood, laughing and kissing her. “If you keep it there,” he said, “You’d be my wife.”

She started and looked up at him with her lips slightly apart. “I would?” she asked. “Truly?”

“Some people would insist we get the preacher involved,” Mache said. “I like to think as long as we’re both willing to promise, it’s fair enough. We can get the preacher later.”

“You promise?” She pressed, eyes wide. “You promise to be my husband?”

“I do.” he said with a contented smile. Part of him clamored that this was a dumb idea, and it whispered that the airfoil in the hanger was ripe to be stolen and flown away any time, for the sake of his very life. But the way Valeria smiled at him, her hand shaking with emotion in his, the gleam of the golden wire on her finger wiped away the fear. This was what he wanted. He would not run away. “Forever and more. Do you?”

“I do,” she whispered, eyes widening as she grabbed his hands. “I do. Forever and more. Oh, Mache.” She kissed him. “I’ll make better rings,” she whispered. “I know exactly the thing.”

He chuckled. “Sure,” he said. “I guess the wire might catch.”

“I’m going to melt it into the rest of the ring,” she said, kissing his cheek. “The first ring will always be there.”

He wound his arms around her waist, kissing her soundly. “Later,” he said, lifting her from her feet and making a beeline to their room. “Right now I think we should have a brief honeymoon.”

* * * *

She was secretive for several days and when Mache peeked in on her she shooed him away. “You might see them,” she said, “and I’m not done yet.”

With a knowing smile, he always sank back. When he asked at dinner how the prototype was going, she always waved it off as fine.

He was cooking dinner four days later when she rushed into the room. “She’s coming in twenty minutes.” Valeria said, “You’ve got everything ready, right?”

He tipped the dinner he’d been cooking onto a plate. “Food’s ready, just have to make sure everything’s put away in its place.”

She nodded. “You sweep the rooms and I’ll get my projects together.” She paled.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“The prototype.” She said, “It’s finished, but I meant to gild it.”

Mache swallowed. “How long?”

“At least an hour,” she said, and shook herself. “No. I can tell her that with the bearings, the gilding would put the functionality in danger.”

“Good girl,” he said, and kissed her cheek. “And offer to do it while she’s here.”

“Exactly,” she said, taking out her hair stick and pulling her tresses into a bun. “Meet me in the ballroom, okay?”

“Shouldn’t be more than five minutes,” he said, already flying around the kitchen to put things away, get them to their proper place and give the impression Valeria was cooking for one. He frowned as he did. The CEO snooped around the ballroom without Valeria sometimes. The habit made him nervous. She would come down and pace, studying the floor, patting the curtains. Once she glanced at the ceiling and nearly gave him a heart attack. She never seemed to have a moment of inspiration, though, because he wasn’t caught. He hadn’t mentioned the incident to Valeria.

Still, she seemed the type to pounce on any variation to a routine. She was never early! He shook his head. There were many reasons to be early. It was possible her radio signal was slow. It was cloudy today, to the point he wouldn’t have flown. On the ground it was probably raining.

Once he finished going over everything he hurried to the ballroom, where Valeria waited for him. She was facing the windows, but turned at the sound of his footfalls, smiling brightly. “I finished the rings,” she said. “I wanted to give you yours before you got shut up.”

He grinned. “How’d you get my size?”

“When you were sleeping of course,” she said, teasing as she dug a polished silver ring from a leather bag on her belt. A golden line wound through the middle of the band, which severed at the top to seat a magnificent golden stone Mache felt looked familiar.

She took out a second ring, much smaller and matching the first in every other way. “These are the left over stones from when I made my eye,” she said. “They’re precious in that way.”

“I’d take a part of you over some diamond any day,” Mache murmured, and pulled her in to kiss. “They’re lovely, Valeria. Is the gold made of the wire?”

She beamed. “Yes. Just enough for both rings.”

He kissed her again, filled with love. “Perfect.”

“You should get in,” she whispered, though she continued to kiss him lightly, gently, as if sipping at a sweet drink. “Ah, love, I wish you didn’t have to.”

“Some day.” he murmured. “You’re my wife. There’s nothing that can keep us apart now.”

She smiled, kissed him once more, and helped him into the vent. He kissed the ring on her hand, she kissed the ring on his, and the door was shut.

He lay back, sighing. There was no use in worrying about what might happen. He’d done it before and accomplished nothing but an upset stomach. As he watched for the rest of the day, though, something seemed off. Normally Valeria came in the evening to work on her projects in the ballroom but this week she was strangely absent.

He fiddled with the ring, frowning. Perhaps she was busy. He’d watched her gild things before, through a chemical reaction which bound tiny portions of gold onto other substances. It was fascinating to watch and Valeria needed to be present for every moment of it to be sure everything was coated evenly. It was possible the CEO had asked for her to gild everything that night.

Yes. That was what was going on. There was no need to worry. He pulled the spare blanket he’d packed into the vent over his shoulders, turned over and went to sleep.

She didn’t come the next day either, though. He began to worry. The CEO was absent too, and he wondered if they could have gone to the ground for some reason. It seemed quiet.

Still, until food ran out and he hadn’t eaten for an additional day, it was best to stay here. Valeria would let down her hair when it was appropriate. It was five and a half days, his longest stint in the vent. When he saw Valeria’s soft blond hair come down the stairs, he was so relieved that her odd attire–a long cloak and kerchief around her head–didn’t give him pause. He knew that hair, golden and wavy, with honey, amber, and sunlight-colored streaks combining into something hers and hers alone. There could be no doubt it was Valeria. It was her hair.

He smiled broadly as she walked along the window’s edge, watching for a moment as usual, and reached up, tugging the slim silver stick out of her hair to let the golden waves tumble to her shoulders.

Mache didn’t hesitate, whooping and pushing the vent door open. He jumped out and took a flying leap off the steps, laughing. “You had me worried, Val–” He caught his breath as he saw what he could not have looking down from the ceiling. She was tall. She was towering.

It wasn’t Valeria.

Before, he guessed the CEO topped Valeria by a foot. The truth was more like a foot and a half. She was a full hand taller than Mache. She didn’t speak. Her crimson lips drew into a smirk as she nodded once, almost to herself. She pushed aside the cloak she’d used to hide her attire, a split skirt with an array of belts and packs, layered over a corset and tailored jacket. From the belts hung several metal pins, scalpels and other sharp wares. Mache’s stomach turned as he saw one of the scalpels was edged in blood.

“Valeria,” he whispered, eyes wide, frozen in terror. “Where is she?”

“The princess of engineers is lost to you now,” the CEO said, still smiling. She took a step toward him, reaching out. He saw a glove of golden claws gracing her fingers. He took a step back. “The empress has scalped her, and you will now pay for her loss.”

Mache’s breath caught. “No,” he whispered. “No, you couldn’t have.”

“Of course I could,” she hissed and lunged at him, her hidden hand lashing out. Mache yelped as she slashed his shoulder with the golden claws. They clicked with terrible intent as she pulled back and flexed her hand. “She was mine! Do you know where she came from, little pilot? Do you know?”

“You bought her,” he snarled, backing towards the stairs. “When she was young you bought her because of her intelligence.”

“Ha! That is the story she was fed by my careful rumor mongering,” The CEO spit at his feet, voice lowering so it twisted and wrapped through the grates of the gigantic room. “Her father came to me in the night, begging for help. ‘Please!’ he said, ‘I need your help! My wife is with child and she is weak and sick.’

“I asked him, ‘Do I not pay you? Do I not provide you with doctors with the correct petitioning?’ and he said ‘It is not enough. She is to give birth tonight and the doctor has told me to administer her a medication too expensive for me to buy!’”

The CEO paused, then threw back her head and laughed. “He thought I was nothing but a soft, simpering woman. The truth is I saw the lie in his eyes.” She scoffed. “And so I gave him the money and followed him. Can you guess where her father wound up?” She pointed at him with a gilded claw. “Guess, boy!”

“I don’t know,” he growled. “Home?”

“No. The opium dens,” she snarled. “Tell me boy, Mache, was it? Tell me–a mother abed and dying, a child struggling for life, and where is the father? Snoring in an opium den, covered in his spilled wine! What would you do?”

“You stole her from her mother,” Mache snarled. “That’s much better.”

“Death stole her mother before I even had the chance to steal the child,” the CEO spat. “Even as I slit the deceitful wretch’s throat, she breathed her last to give Valeria life. Valeria is more my daughter than the children I birthed with my own sweat and tears.”

“And locking her in a dirigible for her entire life?” Mache snapped. If he could keep her talking as they ascended the staircase he stood a chance of making a jump kick and getting back into the still-open vent. Once there, he could crawl up to the next level, out, and grab the airfoil. She was too tall to follow him easily; he could beat her to the hanger, and then look for Valeria. She had to be alive. He couldn’t believe she was dead.

“For her own protection.” The CEO said. “She is too valuable, too precious. Her mind needed time to expand.”

“She’s a human being. She needed people.”

“She’s a genius,” the CEO scoffed. “As am I. We are beyond humans.”

Mache’s foot finally found the next step as her weight began to shift up to follow him. With a shout, Mache pushed off and leapt into the air, extending the heels of his boots toward her face, arms out to brace once he connected.

Only he didn’t. In one smooth move the CEO dipped, arms extending out and claws of her left hand raking his legs. Her fingers grappled, grasped and held, swinging Mache around her body with a grunt and slamming him into the wall beside them and then into the floor chest first.

Mache lost his breath, stars bursting through his vision. Survival instinct kicked in. He kicked, burying fingers into the grating in front of him for purchase and scrabbling to get away from the finely tuned death machine at his back.

She didn’t allow him to get far, grabbing his legs and twisting harshly. His fingers cracked. Mache gasped and shouted, writhing with greater desperation. She dropped him again, this time on his back, and stepped on his chest. He struggled, but with his fingers still tangled hopelessly in the grating, his arms were effectively bound. He could only kick at her.

The CEO leaned down, grinning at him. “Ah, boy,” she said, and reached out, caressing his face with her golden claws. “She loved you, you know.”

Mache groaned as she ground her heel into his chest. “Shut up.”

“I was amazed,” she said, and drew one of the scalpels off of her belt, kneeling on his shoulder as she inspected his hands for a moment. Once content, she busied herself cutting strips from his shirt. “She actually begged for you. Her life for yours, her eternal servitude for your life, a never-ending stream of fabulous inventions in return for your shelter with her.” She chuckled and slashed off a long strip, using it to tie down his hands.

“It was working,” he growled, “You could have taken it. She was happy!”

The CEO chuckled and rose. “Oh, she was. She wouldn’t have been for long though. A man softens a woman, tenderizes her with love and offers of comfort.” She stepped on his hand. Mache gasped as bone cracked and shattered further.

“Besides. Her work wasn’t the point. I admit she was useful. However, in the end it was I who built this company, and it is I whom this company relies on.” She stepped on the other hand. Mache couldn’t hold back a scream. “The point was she lied to me.”

Mache panted as she prodded at his wrist as if to be certain it was fully broken. “I dislike liars,” she said. “I dislike lies. Lies kill. Lies hurt. More importantly, lies kill others, hurt others. I merely make certain when lies are discovered, they hurt the right people.”

She lay out a wad of shirt on either side of his head and then inspected the point of one of her utensils. Satisfied, she knelt on his chest. To his horror, she was smiling. Her clawed fingers rose even with his eyes, the points so close that no matter how he strained they would not focus. “By my accounts you have been here for six months. For every day, I will extract an hour. As you have taken no life, I will not take yours, but I assure you, Mache, this will not be pleasant.”