And she needed a weapon. Thom had knives in his arms, he’d said. But to prevent the other mercenaries and Southampton from assuming Blade’s death was an attack on the ship, it had to be done before the platform reached the top, and Thom would have to rip through his canvas suit to access the blades.
He needed that suit to dive for the submersible tonight, and a patched one wouldn’t be as safe. A knife also ran the danger of spilling blood into the water.
Something blunt, instead.
Would she need to fear Southampton’s retaliation? Probably not. He’d said himself that any of the other mercenaries could have fulfilled Blade’s duties. Southampton wouldn’t do anything to risk losing the gold. He’d kill her and Thom if they jeopardized its recovery—and he’d kill them after he received the coins. But for Blade? Georgiana didn’t think so.
Beside her, Blade grunted. Georgiana yanked her hand away. Abandoning the pump for the space of a second, she ripped off her glove and tossed it into the water.
Laughing, Blade stooped to her ear. “That was good, missus. Now if your husband doesn’t bring up the gold this time, he’ll be going down again. And if you want him to suck on a hose when he does, then you’ll suck on mine.”
Sour revulsion burned in her throat. Her face froze into a mask of hate, darker and colder than any she’d ever known. She did not wonder anymore at what Thom had feared in himself when the tower had come down. It must have been like the rage she felt now—all-consuming, such fury that only love and Thom’s very life prevented her from rising up and destroying the man behind her, without fear of his gun or her own death or any other pain.
But this was not an animal’s rage. It was a rightful rage, and purely human.
It filled her to the brim, a furnace that pistoned her aching arm around and around, that fired hotter with each bellowing breath she took. She waited, kneeling and stiff, her body like iron, her eyes fixed on the water.
An hour passed. Bubbles popped on the surface. Then movement under the sea. Relief and joy broke through at the same time Thom did, water streaming around the brass dome. He hauled himself up the tether cable and over the platform, the air hose in a giant coil at his side—he must have been gathering it during his slow ascent. He dropped from the tether, landing with a heavy thud that rocked the platform and rattled the chains.
Georgiana flew to him, her fingers working at the thumbnuts that fastened the dome to the suit. His glass plate had already fogged again. She helped him lift the heavy helmet and at her first sight of his face, fear made her cry out.
“Thom!” Bloodshot, his eyes had more red than white. His skin was pale, and sweat plastered his thick hair to his head. “Oh, dear God. How are you feeling?”
“All right. Only a few rough minutes.” Tiredly, he shook his head. “But I think it’ll get worse before it gets better.”
Heart thumping, she nodded. That was how the divers’ disease came on—worse after he was out of the water. “We’ll get you to bed. Mr. Blade! We’re ready to go up.”
Blade turned to clank the platform chain with the barrel of his gun, shouting up to the airship. A moment later, the platform jerked beneath them and they began to rise.
When she glanced back at him, Thom’s gaze was searching her face. A frown darkened his expression. “Are you all right, Georgie?”
“I will be. Excuse me, please. I have something to do.”
Over the rattling and the noise, he didn’t hear her come. Blade was just turning away from the chain when Georgiana swung the diving dome with all of her strength. The heavy brass helmet rang dully against his skull. Jarring pain shot through her fingers and wrists. Her palms went numb.
Blade dropped in a heap. His gun clattered to the boards. She left it there.
She turned back, but Thom was already at her side, his arms coming around her.
“Georgie?”
“Oh, Thom.” Fighting back sudden, hot tears, she pressed her forehead to the cold brass plate over his chest.
“I’m glad I never pissed you off that much.” His arms tightened before he drew back. “What was it?”
She closed her eyes, hating the tears slipping down her cheeks, but now that it was done, something broke, and she was cold and shaking.
But not feeling an ounce of regret. “He stepped on your hose.”
“Not by accident, I guess.” His voice hardened. “Are you all right?”
“I am. He . . . used my hand.” Simply saying it pushed the sour sickness up her throat again. “And told me tomorrow it would be my mouth.”
Thom didn’t respond. Just held her tighter. But she knew what was burning in him.
They were halfway up to the airship. With a deep, shuddering breath, she glanced down at the diving helmet still clutched in her hand. She’d been careful to hit Blade with the side of it, where the impact wouldn’t damage the valves or the glass face plate. Blood and short hair clung to the smooth brass.
“Not even a dent. After it’s cleaned, it should be fine to dive in again,” she said.