look of them—each one of them covered in coal dust. They suddenly quieted when Archimedes pulled himself over the rail and tumbled to the steel grating.
They gaped as if they’d never seen a ridiculously handsome bleeding man in a turquoise waistcoat fall through a rubbish hole and then save himself with a grappling hook before. What did they do for fun in New Eden?
But he had no time to ask. He had a wife to save.
He reached for his revolver. “How do I find William Bushke? I have a message to deliver.”
With a bullet. Except, goddammit—the revolver wasn’t in his harness. Falling onto the flyer or being yanked around by the cable must have shaken it loose.
No matter. He’d make do.
One of the men pointed to another suspended walkway. Archimedes nodded his thank-you, then added, “If you’d like to leave this damn city, I’m a madman with an airship and a plan. Just follow along, maybe throw a punch or two if one of the guards makes it past me, and we’ll get the hell out of here.”
With that, he started down the walkway. No time to wait for their answer.
Not while Yasmeen waited for him to return to her side.
* * *
She didn’t know which one had pummeled her head with his steel glove. She didn’t know which one had shot Archimedes. It didn’t matter. She would kill them all.
Not yet, though. Not yet. Not when she couldn’t even draw breath.
Her tears dripped in a steady stream, splashing against the polished deck between her knees. She’d opened her eyes in William Bushke’s quarters, but she hadn’t yet made it to her feet.
She would get up. She would.
Not yet.
Archimedes could survive the fall to the water. Even though he bled and the ocean teemed with sharks, Archimedes would return to her side.
He had to. Or she would die with him.
“I am sorry for this tragedy, Mrs. Gunther-Baptiste. Truly I am.” The kindly faced tyrant crouched in front of her. “But my guards believed he carried a weapon beneath his tunic—and that he was en route to my quarters. They were only protecting the safety of our citizens.”
She would kill him, too. It would be easy. This old wardroom had been transformed into a library. Six guards stood in the cabin with them. None of them had their guns ready. She would leap for the nearest guard, rip his throat out with her claws and take his weapon. The second would fall just as the others finally began to react. The third’s body would serve as a shield, and she’d use the guns she’d collected while ripping out throats to shoot the remaining three guards. Bushke would be last, the slowest.
But she couldn’t yet. Taking that revenge meant admitting there was something to take revenge for. And he wasn’t dead.
Another reason, perhaps. Even over the sounds of her tears and the screaming of her heart she heard the faint sounds of gunfire echoing up through the companionway outside the wardroom. The others hadn’t heard heard it yet, but she knew the sound: George Longcock was in the hangar shed.
She would have to be careful not to slip on her tears—they were as slippery as blood.
With a sigh, Bushke rose and made his way back toward his desk. “I can see that you are overwhelmed, but there are matters which must be attended to, and…”
He paused, head tilted, and moved toward the passageway to listen at the open library door. Yasmeen listened, too, but there was no more gunfire. Longcock had finished.
She would need to get started.
But not yet. Not until her heart beat again.
Shaking his head, Bushke faced her. He sent a quick glance at one of the guards, who began to move around behind Yasmeen.
Bushke picked up where he’d left off. “And so, Mrs. Gunther-Baptiste, I thought we might have a little chat about—”
His eyes widened suddenly, his body stiffening. His left arm rose. Blood bubbled from his mouth. He fell forward, facedown and flat on the floor.
A red-handled dagger jutted up from his back.
Archimedes.
The wonderful, incredible man. Joy rushed through her, fierce and sweet. Her laugh burst, easing the pain around her lungs, lifting the weight from her heart.
The guards shouted, heading for the door, guns drawn. Heading for Archimedes.
She caught the guard who rushed past her; he didn’t have time to scream. The next guard’s neck snapped like a twig. She took down the third, and the other guards hadn’t even recognized the fury coming from behind. Another