Chapter Thirty

 

 

 

ISA PACED OUT ONTO the deck of her boat, lifting the spyglass to fix a nervous eye upon the aether-filled silver envelope that floated the BURR team’s dirigible a few miles distant. The cliffs that rose on either side of the small, rocky beach upon which her boat rested might provide a comforting sense of isolation, but they blocked her view of the water in front of the underwater passage to the sea cave.

Here, several miles away in this secluded harbor, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She scanned the stretch of water before her. Seabirds soaring, diving for food. Sunlight reflecting off waves. The occasional steamer passing on the horizon.

How much longer?

Inside the cabin, Jona rested. He was still feverish, but the infection showed no sign of growing worse. The biomech octopus’s attempts at escape had subsided with the application of more whisky. And Sinclair prepared for a full-scale disaster.

But the BURR dirigible showed no signed of returning. Wait. The balloon shifted, swinging in their direction, growing larger with each passing second. She pressed a shaking hand to her chest, praying that Alec and his team would return unhurt, that the raid was successful, that they had found enough evidence to convict her uncle so that no further disasters would befall the Finn people.

With blood stains and hours of surgery occupying the forefront of her mind, she’d selected an old, drab dress to pull over her linen shift. A corset had no place in a surgical suite regardless of its location. While Sinclair kept his gaze respectfully averted, she’d strapped her dive knife to her thigh, bound her hair tightly, and pulled on thick wool socks to wear beneath sturdy shoes. BURR boots were exceptionally thick-soled and, with luck, they’d soon be pounding across her deck carrying in octopus-laden Finn.

Boots, as it turned out, were a mistake.

A hand wrapped about her arm and pulled. One second she was on deck, the next falling through the air.

Splash.

She hit the surface of the water on her back. Not once had she ever entered the sea in such a manner. Never had she swum wearing so much clothing. Reflexes made her gasp at the air before she was dragged‌—‌a tangle of wet wool and linen‌—‌downward into a murky swirl of current and out to sea.

She thrashed, trying to yank free from the hand that held her, kicking and punching wildly, managing a few glancing blows to whomever‌—‌whatever‌—‌gripped her. An overwhelming urge to scream seized her, but it would be a silent and fatal breath. She needed to hold onto what little oxygen she’d managed to drag in.

A tentacle snaked about her waist. She clawed at it, but it was hopeless. Bare fingers couldn’t break the creature’s ever-tightening grasp.

Twisting, she turned and found herself face to face with the octopus’s host Finn. Two unfamiliar eyes as dark as wet slate locked onto her. Pitiless. Ruthless. A black pit of despair. She would find no mercy at his hands.

Heart pounding, lungs burning, Isa stopped resisting lest the creature wrap more tentacles about her limbs. It was the only way to save herself. The host Finn’s mouth flattened into a grim line, but he nodded. Releasing his hand from her arm, he swam with greater speed, swiftly descending. Bound to him by the parasitic tentacles, she was dragged along, ever deeper into the ocean toward a yellow, glowing disc. The eye of the megalodon.

She had interfered with her uncle’s plans‌—‌again‌—‌and this time she doubted he would show much mercy. But the OctoFinn he’d sent hadn’t killed her, a task he could have accomplished easily given the harpoon gun strapped to his bare thigh. Yet it was too much to hope Uncle Gregor might merely use her as an experimental subject; she expected torture would precede a gruesome death.

Dragging sodden skirts upward, Isa reached for her dive knife. She yanked it from its sheath and slashed at the tentacle buried in the man’s shoulder. The serrated blade edge caught at the braided wire within, tearing apart the twisted iron fibers. Bright blood gushed from the severed limb, and the Finn man stopped swimming.

The octopus rolled its slitted eyes in her direction, squeezing the tentacle about her waist. A new tentacle threaded itself through her hair‌—‌torn loose from its knot in her struggles‌—‌and yanked her head back as a third tentacle twisted about her neck. She cut her hair free, then sliced through the tentacle that gripped her throat.

Watery clouds of blood billowed around her. Through the haze, she saw the Finn man clutching at the creature’s severed limbs. With conjoined circulatory systems, the creature’s blood loss was his own. Fear faded, replaced by an ache in her chest. Who did he protect? Himself? A wife or child?

The scene above her grew ever more distant, as if lead sinkers had been sewn to the hem of her skirts. She blinked. Leather boots and wet wool dragged her downward. Not the death her uncle planned for her, but effective nonetheless.

Her heart raced and her lungs burned with an indescribable and unfamiliar pain as her body demanded oxygen, demanded she inhale. Now. If she didn’t reach the surface immediately, she would learn what it was like to drown.

Forcing herself into action, Isa cut at her skirts, at the laces that bound boots to her feet. Kicking away their burden, she swam upward. Her face broke the surface, and she gasped for air, dragging in great lungfuls. Flopping onto her back‌—‌as only a desperate Finn would swim‌—‌she kicked for shore, searching the sky for the dirigible. Closer. But not close enough.

Nearing the boat, she heard a sharp yell. A crash. Then a dreadful silence.

Limp and drained, she staggered through the surf and onto the rocky beach. Dare she call out to Sinclair? Or would she alert another desperate OctoFinn to her presence? Covered in wet and grit, Isa staggered to the boat’s ladder and pulled herself upward slowly, warily eyeing the deck.

A smear of blood. A dropped harpoon gun. A drag mark to where the smear became a pool. In its midst lay another Finn. Blood oozed from a severed tentacle protruding from the naked man’s leg, but he was still bound to a parasitic octopus by a single tentacle inserted in his shoulder. The man was dead‌—‌his chest no longer rose or fell‌—‌but the octopus lived. Thrashing its tentacles, the creature heaved its gelatinous body left and right, trying to pry itself free from its host, trying to save itself. But it was dying. With every passing second, its efforts ebbed.

A shout echoed from her cabin.

Knife in hand, she peered around the door jamb.

“Thank aether,” Sinclair gasped, taking in her half-drowned appearance with obvious relief. “If anything had happened to you, Mac would have seen me keelhauled.”

As if the man could have saved her. He was slumped against the wall, pinned in place by the shaft of an iron harpoon. White-faced with pain, he clutched at his shoulder, his palm cupping the entry wound. Blood oozed from between his fingers. At his feet was a bloody knife. Across the room, Jona lay upon his pallet, untouched and unconscious.

With a hand clapped to her mouth, Isa rushed to Sinclair’s side. She examined the exit wound with a wince.

“I’ll be fine.” Sinclair spoke through gritted teeth.

She wasn’t inclined to agree. “Your clavicle is broken.” Possibly shattered with a very real chance of significant nerve damage. “The harpoon tore muscle, flesh, but appears to have missed any significant blood vessels.” It would take a bolt cutter to separate the barbed head of the harpoon from the shaft. She didn’t have one. “Hang in there. Your team is minutes away.”

~~~

They touched down on base just outside Glasgow in the dead of night. Not that time of day ever mattered on a military base. This time Isa climbed down from the gondola under her own power, though Alec held her hand to be certain. She, her mother, her brother, her sister and brother-in-law were a bit green about the gills‌—‌buckets had become a necessity‌—‌and needed time to absorb the enormity of a family member’s betrayal, but were otherwise fine.

Moray took charge of these Finn passengers, loading them into a steam carriage to transport them to Mr. Guthrie’s home where he and his wife would care for them. All but Isa. Her brother had protested, arguing about propriety, but Alec refused to let her out of his sight. Lust? Love? Who knew. His feelings were such a primitive, tangled mess they felt as if they originated directly from his brainstem. His mother might also throw a fit, but he was taking her home. Hell, he was contemplating keeping her, if she’d have him.

Sinclair was dispatched posthaste to the Fifth Ward. If anyone could patch his shoulder together again, it was Dr. Morgan.

It bothered him, that unpredicted attack on Sinclair and Isa. Though he’d expected Drummond’s minions to send out an alert, what Alec hadn’t expected was such swift pursuit. An attempt to catch the escaped prisoner? Of course. But he and Isa had turned north, away from civilization. A small‌—‌but unfortunately bright‌—‌boat on a vast coastline.

The sea cave had been emptied with uncanny speed, stripped of anything portable. Empty of all but the tank, the cages and a few odds and ends. Had the OctoFinn succeeded, all biological material‌—‌victim and biomech octopus‌—‌would have been destroyed. Alec could think of only one man in Drummond’s pocket, one man who might have sent word that BURR had launched a dirigible without Naval approval. Commander Norgrove. A leak that needed to be plugged.

But for the moment, Isa was his first priority. Not once had he ever placed a woman above the job. That the decision had been easy and instinctive brought him peace. He wanted her for himself. Though she’d claimed to not aspire to marriage, her words aboard her houseboat suggested her feelings had also shifted, that she too might want more.

“I killed him,” Isa had sobbed into his shoulder when he’d gathered her into his arms. “All that blood. His family‌—‌wife, child‌—‌whomever is held hostage will be devastated. I can’t…‌”

“Shh,” he’d murmured, brushing away her tears. No words could console her, and there was no way to reassure her that everything would be fine. Her uncle’s actions made his next move an easy decision. He and his team had gathered her relatives‌—‌wide-eyed and in shock‌—‌from Stornoway and insisted they travel under their escort to Glasgow where his men would set guards upon her brother’s house. He could at least keep her family safe.

What little they’d manage to disassemble, crate and drag through the water-filled tunnel from the cave was now being carried off to the BURR staging room. Including the water-logged, rock-battered, barely recognizable body of Lord Roideach that they’d scooped from the sea.

“Sir!” A young officer stood before him. “Mr. Black has arranged for a temporary laboratory on base staffed by one Miss Lourney.” He hefted the buckets containing two half-dead biomech octopuses. “I’m to collect and transport any biological materials directly into her care.”

Excellent. Alec doubted it had taken much effort on Logan’s behalf to turn yet another disgruntled employee against their former employer. If anyone could save the creatures, it would be Miss Lourney. “See she receives the box of laboratory notations as well.”

With the biomech octopuses in her care, the technician would‌—‌with luck‌—‌spend the next few hours advancing their understanding of these creatures. It was a relief to pass the responsibility‌—‌however briefly‌—‌to another.

His brother waited at the side of the airstrip, leaning against a carriage hitched to two clockwork horses. Relief was mixed with the certain knowledge that Logan himself never appeared merely for the pleasure of his brother’s company. Alec let out a long sigh, resigning himself to the necessity of listening to Logan’s report. So long as his brother drove them home. He was in desperate need of sleep, and he wanted Isa in his bed beside him.

Shaw held out a carpet bag containing a few items Isa had stashed within before they’d abandoned her boat upon the shore. “You’ll be at home?”

He nodded, accepting the bag. “Keep me updated.”

“Will do.”

With his arm about Isa‌—‌damp, bedraggled, her hair and dress in tatters‌—‌he performed introductions. “Mrs. McQuiston meet Mr. Logan Black, my brother, who is never anywhere convenient when you really need him.”

Logan snorted. “Who bypassed all the red tape and sent your team to raid a cave? I doubt you’d have chosen my presence over theirs.” He turned toward Isa and inclined his head as if she were the belle of the ball. “A pleasure to finally meet the woman who has tied my brother in such knots.”

“I’ve heard much about you.” Isa offered him a small smile.

Logan grinned. “That’s unfortunate.” He tipped his head toward the carriage door and held out a hand. “While I’d love to return the favor by sharing embarrassing stories from Alec’s childhood, those must wait. There is a new development we need to discuss.”

They climbed into the carriage and, with a tap on the roof, the driver set the clockwork horses in motion.

His brother wasted no time. “Lady Roideach has returned to Glasgow with two children in tow and is making much of her husband’s disappearance. Legally, no evidence exists that would allow us to take her into custody.”

“Yet,” Alec grumbled. “Give me time. I’ll find it.”

“No need.”

Isa’s mouth fell open, then snapped shut. “She intends to abandon my uncle, to establish herself in Glasgow society as a widow, mother of the young Lord Roideach. With her legal husband dead, she’ll finally have access to all his funds.”

His brother lifted a finger. “Unless her husband’s body is never found, in which case the estate will enter probate for a period of seven years.”

“You would threaten to bury him in a pauper’s grave? That’s blackmail.”

“Exactly.” Logan’s eyes were bright with approval. “Moreover, by taking a second husband in an irregular marriage, she has committed bigamy. Their daughter is irrefutable proof of consummation. But we shall hold that card close to our chests to play at a later date.” He paused, making it clear that Lady Roideach would not enjoy her deceased husband’s fortune for long. “Your next task is to meet with her and collect all necessary information to stop Commodore Drummond.”

“Me?” Isa pressed a hand to her chest.

“Both of you. Who better to verify any information she has to share?” Logan said. “Lady Roideach is wary of meeting privately. Because an afternoon social call lasting no longer than the prescribed fifteen minutes will raise no red flags, Cait has extended her an invitation to tea. Where better to hold a polite interrogation than right under your mother’s nose?”

“Perfect Patsy is certain to be in attendance. She will cling to my arm tighter than any octopus ever would.” Alec groaned.

“Already anticipated.” Logan tossed a familiar box on his lap. “A solution. Arrive home with a fiancée on your arm. Your mother will refuse to speak to you both, and the ladies will be too busy sobbing into their teacups to interrupt your conversation with Lady Roideach.”

Alec frowned. He might have been contemplating a more permanent future with Isa, but this wasn’t at all how he’d envisioned proposing.

“Open it,” Isa whispered.

He cracked open the box to reveal his grandmother’s pearl ring. One she’d worn for decades and passed directly into his hands, telling him to keep it safe for his future bride. He’d locked it away in a safe intending to do exactly that if such a day ever arrived. His free hand curled into a fist. That Logan was able to crack that safe surprised him not one bit, that he would do so without permission made him want to relieve his brother of a few teeth.

“You need to be convincing,” Logan said, leaning forward. Smart of him to close the distance so Alec’s swing couldn’t gather too much momentum. “Need more help?” His voice lowered to a comical growl. “Mrs. McQuiston, will you do me the great honor of‌—‌”

Alec grabbed his brother’s cravat and dragged him close. He found himself incapable of anything but a low growl. Perhaps a quick butt to the head instead.

“Don’t.” Isa snatched the box from Alec’s hands and slid the ring onto her finger. “It’s nothing but a brief charade.” She threw Logan a dark look. “No need to come to blows. We’ll do whatever is necessary to stop my uncle.”

He stared at the pearl ring upon her hand. It was exactly where he wanted it, where it belonged. But his brother had deprived him‌—‌them both‌—‌of a heartfelt and true proposal. He glared at Logan. Perhaps tonight he’d strangle his brother in his sleep.