Chronicles of Steele: Raven 2: Episode 2 Read online

  PAULINE CREEDEN

  CHRONICLES OF STEELE: RAVEN

  Episode Two

  © 2014 Pauline Creeden

  Cover Design Copyright © 2014 by Alchemy Book Covers

  Interior formatting and design by Marcy Rachel of Backstrip Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Synopsis:

  Episode 2 of a 4 part Steampunk Fantasy set in an alternate universe. For Captain Jack Grant, the hunt has just begun. Can he capture the elusive Raven Steele, or will she slip through his grasp? As both sides take on new alliances, they will find that one will be an honest partner, one will fall, and one will betray them all.

  Be as gentle as a dove but as cunning as a viper.

  Preserve one's self with intellect,

  and know when it is time to be either the dove or the viper.

  RAVEN’S TRAVELLING DRESS covered her from neck to ankle, but she could not rid herself of the feeling she was exposed. Although she wore fewer petticoats than was fashionable, the extra fabric still weighed her down. The corset she wore fit snugly about her waist, and the ribbed leather held her in a comfortable hug. But without her crossbow and quiver, she could never be at ease.

  “Madam, the Grommet Dirigible is set to leave at 12:15 for Westmoreland.” The conductor covered a yawn with the back of his hand and punched a stamp across the tickets before pushing them through the window. “Platform 9, please.”

  Raven nodded and placed a hand on Darius’s shoulder. She clamped her mouth against the pain in her leg and walked straight but slow. A small crowd milled about the station, and no one gave the pair a second glance. She kept alert and guided Darius toward the small café under the harbor’s clock. They took a seat at a table toward the middle. No one ever paid attention to the people in the middle of the crowd. They’d draw more attention if they were toward the edge.

  A green patina gave the leaves and vines of the wrought copper café chairs the illusion of life. Nine tables were laid out in a semi-circle on the patio, and Raven had chosen the one nearest the middle. On the edge, two men in business suits read the paper over their tea.

  The boy still wore farmer’s trousers held up by red suspenders. It made her chest ache to look at him, but she smiled anyway. He looked more like Gregory than the duke’s son now. His skin had lost its pallor and become ruddy from playing in the autumn sun. “What’s in Westmoreland?”

  “It’s the closest we can get to the Preston Woods by airship. From there, we’ll take a short train ride to Moorshead. I’ll have to find directions when we arrive there.”

  “I wish Nikki could have come aboard with us.”

  “The dog will be fine in the cargo hold. They wouldn’t allow her in the passenger compartment.”

  The boy shook his head and lowered it a bit. “When I travelled by airship before, Nikki was allowed.”

  Raven leaned forward in a like manner and whispered, “They might allow the baron’s dog, but not a farm boy’s.”

  Darius’ eyebrows scrunched together before his eyes grew wider. A smile formed on his lips. “Oh.”

  Raven winked at him. The waiter arrived and lifted an eyebrow with his pen at the ready. She set her menu down delicately. “A spot of tea and some biscuits should be enough.”

  The boy chattered almost incessantly, and though she paid attention to him, she also needed to keep an eye on the crowd so no surprises would come their way. The two men at the table on the edge kept her focus. Both read a newspaper and sat across from each other. She tilted her head slightly to see the headline better on the paper nearest her. A drawing of a woman in black with a crossbow covered the lower quarter of the page. The eyebrows were a bit thick, and the malice in her eyes exaggerated. Over the drawing, her name stood out in bold along with WANTED in red letters. She straightened in her chair and turned her away, making a conscious effort to keep her lids lowered. The last thing she needed to do was draw attention to what she may have been looking at.

  She cleared her throat and scanned the station with her direct vision as well as her periphery. A fondness for counting had always been her comfort. She counted the heads of everyone who appeared to be waiting for the next flight. Among the civilians were several brown coats. Duke’s Guard. Her jaw tightened, but she perfected her bored look as she studied each of them. No red band. These were mere foot soldiers. And they behaved as though they were on leave. Their jackets were open and casual; their stance, relaxed. One ogled a young girl as she passed.

  The waiter set a cup and saucer before both Raven and Darius. The young baron straightened in his seat and sat like a gentleman. The farm boy was all but gone. He took his cup’s handle between his fingers in an elegant gesture that made Raven mildly jealous. At the center of the table, the waiter set a small plate with four biscuits and strawberry jam.

  As the waiter poured the tea, she searched her bag for her coin purse. It felt awkward to carry about a travel bag. She usually attached every object to her person by magnets or snaps. Her hands were accustomed to being empty. Inside the bag lay her smallest weapons and other valuables. She took a half moment to caress one crossbow bolt with her forefinger before turning to the waiter with payment.

  “Thank you.” She offered the coins and added, “No change, please.”

  “Thank you, Madam.” He made a crisp bow and turned away.

  “I thought you lost all your money in that saddlebag.” Darius smiled over the tea and took a gentle sip.

  “The pay is very good in my profession, and it’s smart to not leave all your eggs in one basket.”

  His forehead scrunched. “What does that mean?”

  With a sigh, Raven leaned forward to explain a little further. “I have several hiding places for valuables.”

  “Oh.” Darius nodded, eyes wide.

  They sipped tea in silence, and the boy ate three biscuits to Raven’s one. As they finished, a brown coat closed in on the table in her periphery. She fought to keep her head straight.

  “Excuse me,” a gruff voice cut in, overloud.

  Raven stiffened and turned her head slowly. The soldier’s back faced her as he leaned toward the table of the two gentlemen. One of the gentlemen had gripped his paper so tightly his knuckles were as white as the printed pulp. A second soldier stood to the other side of the table.

  Raven turned her head back to Darius but kept her ears tuned to their discussion. She watched them from the corner of her eye. The boy tilted forward on his chair and had his knee placed on the seat so he could lean closer to the discussion. His face shone brightly with wonder. The farm boy had returned.

  “May we see your identification and tickets, please?” The guard nearest them made the demands. His hand pushed back his coat and rested a palm on the butt of his pistol. “Move your hand slow, please, and keep your extra one on the table.”

  The white-knuckled gentleman threw his paper down in a huff, knocking his bowler hat to the pavement. “What is the meaning of this?”

  The taller guard leaned toward the gentleman’s face, placing a hand on the tabletop. His overlong salt and pepper colored bangs fell into his eyes. In a smooth motion, he pushed them back with his free hand. “Tickets and identification, if you please.”

  Raven drop
ped her napkin from her lap and reached down to pick it up. She used the most demure look she could muster as she glanced at the proceedings. The icy blue glare of the taller guard met her gaze. She cleared her throat and sat upright with her napkin, giving the man a curt nod. He returned the gesture, before returning to the flustered gentleman who was busy pulling out papers and identification from his billfold. The red-faced gentleman murmured under his breath in an unintelligible manner. He used the word “outrage” at least three times.

  “Leonard Green.” The taller guard held the identification card under close scrutiny. Closest to her, the shorter guard still kept his palm on the hilt of his gun. The first guard looked over at the latter and asked, “Does that name sound familiar to you? Or is it just me?”

  The latter guard nodded, his grin so wide Raven caught a glimpse of his molars. “Seems to me that we just heard that name a short bit ago…on the other side of the station.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Taller guard nodded.

  “What! Preposterous. I’ve never been so accosted and insulted in my entire life.” The crimson faced gentleman attempted to stand, but the taller guard set a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back into his seat.

  “Nope. I’m sure you haven’t. Just as I’m sure you are not Leonard Green.” He tightened his grip on the man’s shoulder until the gentleman let out a squeal and recoiled from the pain.

  Raven felt that it was an appropriate time to stare as slack-jawed and saucer-eyed as the farm boy across from her. She turned in her seat and joined in.

  In a rough, awkward motion, the two guards wrestled the gentleman to the ground and pinned his arms behind his back. After a short struggle, they detained the man, cuffed him, and set him back on his feet.

  “I’ll have you know…”

  “Oh shut your trap.” The short guard punched the disheveled gentleman in the gut to silence him. “The jig is already up. We caught you red handed with the billfold and identification of Leonard Green, Pick-pocket. You didn’t think the real Mr. Green noticed you bumping him in the lavatory, did you? Well his description led us directly to you. Now come away without any more difficulty, and I won’t punch you again.”

  “Now boarding, the 12:15 to Westmoreland.” The conductor’s voice came over the quiet murmur in the station and echoed from the walls.

  Raven leapt to her feet before she remembered to slow her movements so as to appear normal. She set a hand on Darius’ shoulder and tilted her head in the direction of the platform. The boy tore his eyes away from the two brown coats and hurried toward the loading dock. Raven smiled as she followed close behind, relieved to put some distance between the guard and herself. The boy’s red suspenders bobbed through the crowd toward the crates waiting to be loaded into the cargo hold. She shook her head. No surprise the boy would be looking for a last chance to see his pet.

  “Excuse me, miss.” The gruff voice of the tall guardsman called toward her, and Raven stopped. Her adrenaline amped up, and the station faded out, as she concentrated on every possible escape maneuver. Darius was too far away. Could she run through the crowd, catch him by the suspenders and make her escape? Doubtful. She clenched her jaw as she felt fingers lightly tap her shoulder.

  She turned to face him, a smile frozen on her lips. Act naturally.

  The taller guard’s formerly icy star had melted into a cordial one. He bowed his head slightly and held up her bag. “You’d forgotten this.”

  Raven blinked slowly, hardly recognizing the burgundy carpet bag the man held in front of her. After a moment, she took on the part of a farm girl to match her dress. “Oh, goodness. I’d forget my head if it weren’t sewn on.” She smiled, batted her eyelashes, and bit her lip. “What a gentlemanly thing to do. Thank you so much, sir.”

  The tall guard blushed and grinned. “No problem, miss.” He turned and trotted back to his partner.

  Raven let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. The world spun around her just a little and she thought she might faint. A full week of preparations in the city, and she had not had one close shave. Fifteen minutes in the airship station, and she thought she’d been done in. Her heart still raced, and her panic seemed higher than usual. Must have been the caffeine. She really needed to curtail her intake of tea.

  Aboard the airship, Darius settled into his seat beside Raven. She thought he’d never sit down. For a half hour, he had bounced from window to window, repeatedly exclaiming his love for zeppelins. It took extreme concentration in order to mark each passenger as threat, potential threat, or no threat. When she felt her safety assured, she leaned back in her chair. She smiled as the boy nodded off. It helped her finally have a moment to think.

  She hadn’t been to Westmoreland in seven years, since she was thirteen years old. It was her fourth mission and her first kill. She closed her eyes and remembered the day.

  Timothy Steele was a tall man, nearly a head taller than most. Raven had inherited his height, but still, his lofty frame blocked out the afternoon sun when Raven looked at him. Her height would be her advantage on this mission.

  Dressed smartly in reaper black, with a crossbow snapped to the magnets on the harness sewn into his vest, her father shrugged and shook his head. “I’m not crazy about the idea, Raven, but this is a mission I cannot ignore.”

  They dismounted their horses in front of an inn at the edge of the hilly town. A grave expression traversed his face, and he refused to meet her eyes. When he was nervous, he fidgeted as he did now. He ran a hand through his sandy hair and scratched his chin.

  She searched his pale, clean shaven face. “What is it, Father?”

  “I’ll be near by the entire time, but you will be the one in the most danger.”

  Raven’s heart fluttered. It was about time. On the previous missions, she had felt little more than a third wheel. Uselessly, she did more observing than anything else. She couldn’t wait to use all she’d learned. A grin spread across her cheeks. “I can handle it.”

  Her father’s violet-blue eyes met hers, his lip curling in half a smile. “I believe you can or we would not be here.”

  She stood a little taller, smoothing her green farm dress over her breeches. He wouldn’t let her wear black yet. “So what’s the mission?”

  Wrinkles reappeared in the corners of his eyes and creased his forehead. “Someone has been kidnapping young girls in this town.”

  Raven gasped.

  “The girls are a bit older than you, but you’re tall and with the right hair and dress, we can make you look about sixteen. We’re going to bait the thief.”

  “What has been happening to the girls? Are they dead?”

  “No.” He shook his head and looked away again. “They ended up in a town to the north called Channing. Sold to the house of iniquity there.”

  A whorehouse. Her father liked to think of his little girl as innocent, but she knew much more than he’d think. When they were in strange towns on assignment over the past three years, he’d thought he’d safely left her in their quarters at the inns. More often than not, she’d sneak downstairs to the tavern and watch the men there. Often they’d fight. Their drunken, slow movements were a source of amusement for her.

  She dismounted her horse to follow her father’s lead. They brought their horses to the livery stable next to the inn and left them with the stable hand. Her father palmed the man a coin before they started for a neighboring shop.

  Hats of assorted color and size sat on disembodied head shapes in the window. The man behind the counter had pins between his lips, and he concentrated on the hat in front of him. His eyes were red- rimmed and bloodshot beneath half spectacles.

  “Mr. Marsh?” Her father’s deep baritone softened in the close quarter.

  The gentleman looked up and his jaw slackened. The pins fell from his lips and beat a musical chime on the countertop. His eyes were wide and watery as he pulled the glasses from his face and asked, “Mr. Steele?”

  Her father nodded
and stepped up to the counter and offered his hand. “Yes, sir.”

  The relief on the man’s face seemed to melt into his shoulders, and she thought he might faint. He took her father’s hand and jerked it up and down. “Thank God. I was so afraid you wouldn’t accept the mission.”

  After a moment of smiling and nodding, Raven’s father finally extracted his hand from the haberdasher’s grip. “Please, give us as many details as you can.”

  The haberdasher nodded and his face hardened again. His gaze dropped to his hands. “Three nights ago, I had an argument with my daughter. She was supposed to go to the dairy earlier in the day so we’d have butter with our bread for dinner. But she’d forgotten.” His eyes lifted, filled with unshed tears. “I didn’t mean for her to go right then, but she took it on herself to do so.”

  He stifled a sob with his kerchief. Raven and her father gave Mr. Marsh a moment of silence to compose himself.

  “I didn’t even know she’d left. Mrs. Tailor came into the shop late to pick up an item, and Anna left while my back was turned. She’s only fifteen. I wish I’d never gotten so angry.” His eyes pleaded for forgiveness, and he swallowed hard before he continued. “I searched everywhere for her, but the constable called her a runaway. I’ve hardly slept since she’s been missing. I leave the gaslight on in the window every night so she’ll know I’m staying up, waiting for her.”

  After giving him another moment to compose, Raven’s father nodded and said, “But you’re convinced she’s not a runaway.”

  The man’s eyes grew determined and he shook his head forcefully. “Never. Anna would never run away. She’s all that I have. We’ve been close since her mother passed on. I know she’d never leave me over a simple disagreement.”

  Raven’s father darted his eyes in her direction, and she suddenly knew why she was here. Her father had connected with the man at the gut level. Raven would never leave him that way either.

  “So tell me about the common thread among the missing girls.”

  Mr. Marks shook his head again, slowly this time, and his eyes met her father’s. “For the past few months, girls have been disappearing. Everyone knows not to let their daughters walk alone at night. I think she thought she could make it to the dairy and back because it’s just around the corner, but she should never have gone.” His face dissolved again.