Chronicles of Steele: Raven 2: Episode 2 Read online

  After stepping up and putting a hand on the man’s shoulder, Raven’s father said, “What happens to the girls?”

  “They’ve been discovered in Channing. A neighbor, Bill Mason’s daughter went missing months ago. He went to Channing to find her, but he never returned. Everyone thinks that the kidnappers may have killed him. I was too scared to go myself, and the constable will not help me.” This time the gentleman put his head in his hands and fell into sobs.

  Raven stiffened. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She’d never seen a grown man cry in such a way before. Her father never cried in front of her, but she thought once she heard him mourning the night he buried her mother. He wouldn’t let her near enough to know for sure.

  Her father patted the man’s shoulder. “Going to Channing will not solve the problem. Channing is in the duke’s territories. I doubt that the kidnappers are from there. Someone in this town is swiping and shipping the girls north. We need to find this culprit. He will tell us where your daughter is.”

  The man lifted his head, his face swollen and blotchy. “Thank you,” he mouthed, but no sound escaped his throat.

  Outside, the sun barely peeked over the tree line at the top of the next hill. “We’ll make preparations quickly. He took Raven to a dress shop and asked the woman to find a brightly colored dress that made his daughter look older. The woman raised her brows in a quizzical manner, but did exactly as he said. When they left the shop, Raven wore a yellow dress with bright blue flowers in the fabric, and the neckline exposed more skin than she felt comfortable with.

  It was also the first time she’d worn a corset. The bone ribs within the fabric poked her in the sides. It pulled tight against her waist and pushed up her developing breasts. The only sign of the sun in the sky were the orange streaks of sunset.

  “It’s nearly time.” Her father nodded to the west. “You have your breast dagger?”

  Raven nodded. The thin blade’s blunt point did not stab her as she drew breath.

  “I won’t be far. Let’s go into the inn and rent a room. I’ll leave through the back entrance a bit before the streetlamps are lit. Then you will wait five minutes before leaving on your own from the front. Understand?”

  She nodded.

  At the inn, her father waved for her to sit at one of the chairs in the lobby while he stepped up to the keeper’s desk. Her corset kept her from sitting comfortably, so she sat on the edge of the settee with her spine straight. She wiped the sweat from her brow and watched her father. After making arrangements for the room, he stepped back toward Raven.

  “We’ll use that room tonight, to get some rest before heading for Channing. I already informed the keeper that we’d be coming in late.”

  Raven nodded but stayed quiet while her father peered out the window. Her stomach growled; she hadn’t eaten since luncheon, and that had only been a bit of meat and cheese with water. Her father fasted and taught her to do the same when they were on a mission. She really felt too queasy to think of eating.

  “Five minutes,” he reiterated before stepping toward the back of the inn.

  Raven watched the clock on the mantle over the fireplace. The minutes trickled by. She couldn’t wait to get out of the corset. She hated the thing. It made her feel too feminine. How she wished she were a boy.

  When it had been three minutes, Raven stood and paced the room. She figured that the movement might help the time pass. She walked a circle around the room twice before the clock told her she had thirty seconds left. Counting each second, she strolled to the front door and yanked it opened the moment she reached thirty.

  Outside, the sky had become pitch black, but the gas lit streetlights washed out the stars a bit. Her heart pounded in her chest. Raven watched the shadows but couldn’t find her father anywhere. It didn’t matter whether she could see him or not. He was there. She trusted in that.

  Across the street, a couple entered the pub. The revelry within spilled into the street when they opened the door. Orange-tinted light. The peal of an organ. And the laughter of the crowd fell to a low din the moment the door shut behind them. The street became all but silent, and not a soul stirred but hers.

  She needed to think like a normal girl, right? Not like a reaper. She stood straighter and kept her eyes from darting in every direction. Her ears strained to catch every sound. How did her father hear things so well? He said she’d gain it with training in the blindfold, but right now, she felt about as dumb as she was deaf.

  One step at a time, she started down the street. As nothing happened, she relaxed and swung her arms in a more strolling gait. Maybe she should whistle? She tried it for a few bars but then felt silly and giggled to herself. This was too easy. Nothing was happening. Besides, what did she have to worry about? Her father would pulverize whoever meddled with her.

  When she crested the next hill, she thought about skipping her way down. Or running–that would be fun, too. But she didn’t want to get too far ahead of her father, and if she looked odd, would the kidnapper still take the bait? She decided to walk down like a normal girl. As she passed an alley between buildings, she heard a small cry for help.

  A young girl, about four years old stood under the lamp in the alley. Her hand was on the handle of the door lit by the lamp. Pink ribbons tied back her hair in pigtails, matching a faded muslin night gown. “Can you help me please? I need help.”

  Raven glanced up and down the street. No one, not even her father could be found. She took one step forward. “What’s the matter, little girl? You shouldn’t be outside this late. Don’t you know that?”

  “But I need help. I lost my kitty.”

  Raven took two more steps into the alley. “Where’re your mum and dad?”

  The little girl jiggled the handle on the door. “See, I’m locked out.”

  With a sigh, Raven approached the child. When she drew near, she knelt and met the girl at eye level. The little girl smiled and knocked on the door.

  It swung in and two men jumped out. Raven fell back against the wet flagstones in the alleyway. She crab-crawled backward for several feet, until one of the men dashed behind her. He grabbed her by the hair and lifted her. Before she could scream, he slapped a grimy, meaty hand over her mouth. His voice had a gravelly edge, and he mocked her in a sing-song voice, “What’s the matter little girl? You shouldn’t be outside this late, don’t you know that? Where’re your mum and dad?”

  He laughed and the other man handed the little girl her teddy. She grabbed the toy bear and stuffed an ear into her mouth. Her expression was neither scared nor apologetic. Obviously, she’d only done what she’d been told to do.

  The short man, who’d given the girl the teddy, ran a hand through his slicked-back, dark hair. The gloves he wore had the fingers cut out in them and frayed at the cuffs. He smiled, revealing his orange- stained teeth. “Pickin’s become slim, lately, but we hit a jackpot tonight!”

  Raven’s eyes darted to the street. Where was her father? Wasn’t he supposed to protect her? She glared at the orange-toothed man.

  He stepped forward and pulled at one of Raven’s curls. “This is naturally curly, isn’t it?” He pulled it to his nose and smelled it. “Lilacs and something else…familiar but I can’t place it.”

  Raven wanted to bite the hand over her mouth, but she knew from training it was unlikely she’d make purchase without drawing the hand closer. She waited another moment for her father, but he didn’t come.

  Where was he? Her heart thumped in her chest and her breath came in shallow pants over the man’s hand.

  Orange-tooth stepped back, and he was just the right distance. She could do this; it was just like with the training dummies. She closed her eyes and steadied herself, counting.

  One. She slammed her head into the man behind her. The bones of the man’s face crunched. His arms around her slackened, and she stepped forward.

  Two. After a kick to the groin, the man in front of her fell to his knees. When he was
doubled over in pain, she kneed him in the face.

  Three. She pulled the blade from her corset and spun around to face the second man, but he lay on the ground, unmoving.

  Out of the shadows, a man stepped forward and held up a hand. Raven lifted her blade, ready to throw it. He called out, “Enough, Raven. That’s enough! You did fine.”

  Her chest ached and she immediately started sobbing. She rushed into the arms of her father and squeezed him tightly, crying into his chest.

  He stroked her hair as he spoke. “I was there the whole time, Raven. I knew you could handle it. If either man had pulled a weapon, I would have come to your aid. You didn’t need to be scared.”

  She pulled away and swiped the tears on her face. The little girl behind her wailed.

  “Papa! Get up, Papa.” The small child shook the shoulder of the man Raven had slammed in the face with her head. “Papa.”

  Raven’s father knelt next to the man’s still body, checking for a pulse at the throat.

  “Is he gonna be all right?” The fair hair child’s blue eyes pleaded, full of tears.

  He patted the young girl on the shoulder and stood, refusing to answer in affirmative or negative. His eyes never left Raven’s. The light from the gaslight behind her caused his violet-blue eyes to sparkle. He stepped closer and put an arm around his daughter, whispering, “It takes a heartless man to do to young women what could have been done to his own daughter. You may have saved her from the same fate in her future. Do not mourn her loss.”

  Raven swallowed hard as the words sunk in. Her heart became stone and fell into the pit of her stomach. She doubled over and retched. Again she was thankful for the fasting. With each dry heave, her stomach attempted to turn itself inside out. And when she was finished, the man who she’d kicked in the groin had begun to stand.

  Her father stepped forward.

  After a lengthy questioning, Timothy Steele found out that the man Raven had killed was the constable of Westmoreland. There was good reason no one could find help in getting their daughters back. Additionally, the cheese-toothed deputy who Raven had kicked in the groin joined their journey to Channing, where each of the daughters of Westmoreland were returned…maybe with a bit more maturity than anyone would have wished.

  Because of the six girls, Raven and her father had to take the train back from Channing to Westmoreland. As they neared the station, her father spoke. “I didn’t mean for you to make your first kill that way Raven.”

  She stayed silent while he hesitated. She traced the line of his strong jaw with her eyes while she waited for him to continue.

  He smiled at the group of girls still huddled together in their seats. Wide eyed and unsure, they looked about the cabin and did their best to pretend at normalcy. The wiry red hair of the haberdasher’s daughter smashed against her face as she slept. She was the only one who seemed able to rest, but they’d intercepted her while traveling to the whorehouse.

  Raven’s father continued, “You’ve already redeemed yourself. These girls were as good as dead without your rescue.”

  “I really didn’t do much. It was an accident.” She flushed.

  “I would rather you had never to kill anyone. At least it was a side-effect of the training. When I’m in the thick of battle, men are no longer men to me, it’s like they are replacement training dummies. If I think about them as husbands or fathers, I could never kill anyone, even the roughest of criminals.”

  Raven nodded. “That’s exactly how I saw them.”

  His eyes met hers briefly before looking ahead again. He half-laughed. “I guess you can’t go about wearing yellow if you’re going to be drawing blood. And how did you like the corset?”

  “I hated it. It was about the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever worn.”

  He frowned. “That’s too bad. I was hoping to get magnets put in one. A vest harness would have looked out of place—but a corset? Much more lady-like and you could even have worn it under your shirt.”

  Raven’s jaw dropped, and she snapped it closed quickly. “I could become accustomed to wearing it.”

  Her father smiled. She knew she always had his love, but it felt good to have his approval.

  Thunder rolled in the clouds below the zeppelin, causing the boy lying next to Raven to stir, but he didn’t wake. A porter came forward into the traveling cabin and announced a slight delay in arrival time due to the storm.

  Raven sighed and glanced at the boy leaning on her shoulder. He was worth saving. And she would make certain that he would live, no matter what.

  In battle, be aware when things are out of order.

  If the opponent has a limp or weakness, find the difference in his gait or movements.

  His strengths will be found in the same way.

  Keep one's eyes open.

  JACK GRANT ABHORED the odor of the man on the mechanical horse ahead of him. Jasper Hollow’s rotund girth overlapped the sides of the copper machine. Layers of leather lay over the khaki work-wear on the man. At least, Jack assumed it was khaki once—the last time it had been washed.

  He did his best to look elsewhere. The road ahead had been washed by the recent rainstorms and exposed rocks could easily lodge into one of the flesh horse’s hooves. He hated keeping horses at only a walk, but their welfare required it. Although nearly an hour away from the seaside town of Channing, the humidity still caused sweat beads on his forehead. Sparse trees provided little shade.

  “You’ve got to think like a reaper to catch a reaper.” Jasper’s brass eye swiveled shorter as he turned toward Jack. “We don’t think like you do, you know?”

  It took everything Jack had not to snarl in disgust at the man. Honestly, he didn’t like putting Raven and this man in the same category. They weren’t even in the same class. He couldn’t imagine that this smelly, unwashed drunkard could move as quickly as the woman. But his hand moved to the sore spot on his throat, a reminder that Jasper could. After a moment, Jack asked, “How is that so?”

  “There’s a code we live by, tenets we learn. Training hardens us in ways which would break a softy guardsman like yourself.” He said it in a matter-of-fact manner. It wasn’t meant as a jab at the guard as much as a truth, like the sky was blue. Still, it poked Jack right in the chest.

  He didn’t want to interrupt the man’s train of thought. Raven seemed the quiet type, so it surprised him how much Jasper talked. And his lips loosened with drunkenness.

  “The training is so demanding it’s been difficult finding new recruits. I find one man who has potential and he quits long before I get to teaching him finesse.” Jasper pulled up the mechanical horse and turned him around to face the back of the guard. He looked down the road back to Channing. “I never tell them the fate of the ones who quit. They’ve got to train of their own will, not because death hangs over them like a fire and brimstone preaching. Men just don’t have the will to learn The Reaper Way any more.”

  Jack couldn’t help but follow the direction of Jasper’s gaze to the back of the guard. The sound of galloping hooves reached him a moment before the scout rounded the corner. Could Jasper really have heard it so much sooner?

  Young Scott James flew between the four guardsmen with Jack and pulled up his flesh horse just as he reached his captain. “Captain Grant.” His breath came in ragged huffs. He saluted respectfully before dropping his hand in a signal to wait. After a few breaths, he continued. “Sir, we’ve had a report of a Great Dane being shipped by a young boy and woman to Westmoreland.”

  “Westmoreland? When?” Jack tensed, ready to run in any direction.

  “The airship carrying the cargo left New Haven an hour ago.”

  Jack gripped his reins in a tense fist. Not only was he too slow, but it also meant the woman had been hiding right under his nose in New Haven. “Has anyone radioed the ship? Where is its next stop?”

  The scout shook his head. “It’s a direct flight, sir. It should be reaching Westmoreland in another half hour.”

&
nbsp; Jasper’s sandpaper laugh broke his concentration. “Typical of a reaper–always a step ahead.”

  Jack grew tired of Jasper’s speeches about the superiority of a reaper. He glared at the man before turning to the scout. “When does the next train leave Channing for Westmoreland?”

  “I checked already, sir, and took the liberty of commissioning a car for the guard. It leaves at 1:45.”

  Jack pulled out his grandfather’s chronometer from his waistcoat pocket. After a quick glance, he dropped it back in and surged forward. He jerked his horse into the muddy ditch beside the road. “Men, back to Channing! We’ve got fifteen minutes to catch a train!”

  He glanced back once to make sure that the hired reaper was following his team. How much help would Jasper Hollow be? Did they really need the smelly, middle-aged man on the trip with them now that they’d found where the woman had gone? The pounding hooves squelched through the mud in the ditch.

  Raven stepped off the airship and felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her chest. Would Baron Solomon let the guard know where she planned to take his brother? She couldn’t think on that now. It was too difficult to forecast what others might do in life, outside of a battle. In the fight, she’d found them predictable.

  Her camel-colored cropped jacket had become a burden. The warm air of the southern town hinted at early autumn, even though it was nearly November. When they’d left New Haven, they had predicted snow for the night in the almanac.

  With a lilting step, she followed the boy to the cargo terminal. The airship had been delayed as they flew over a storm. It had dampened her mood, but her cheery disposition returned upon arrival, even though the sky was overcast. The hills of Westmoreland made the houses and streets roll up and down. Green trees marked each house like hatpins among the city’s businesses. The culture of home business drove Westmoreland into becoming one of the major stops in the shipping industry.