Radio opened her mouth again, but his hard glare, which always carried so many threats—and this time the reminder that he brought her aboard without carrying through on those threats and demands—pushed her to a simple nod. “Sir.”

  ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

  Kevin sat on a stack of books in one corner of the ship’s “library.” Like everything else about this ship, it was ridiculously unnecessary. The lack of a porthole, and the cramped confines, made Kevin think of a wide rope closet converted into something useless. Two walls were covered with shelves lined with books and scrolls of paper. A small wobbly desk, and one stool, upon which Maggie sat, were the only furniture in the room.

  Maggie whispered, “We gonna git outta this, love?”

  Kevin nodded once, slowly, and crossed his legs at the knee. He spoke in a low voice as well, barely above a whisper, “I’m sure if they bother to do their research, they’ll find we are who we say we are. The conventioneers in Chicago will have reported us missing.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And we know we’re not pirates.”

  “Well, we do,” she said, standing and pacing the three available feet in the room. “But they don’.”

  “I don’t think they’d risk it, darling. This Captain Kinney seems like he’s all business…when he’s not flirting up my wife.”

  “Flirtin’ uh—” Maggie looked at Kevin. “He is sometin’ of a cad, I s’pose, in some ways. Aye, but he’s all business, dat one.”

  “He touched your arm and looked at you in that way.”

  “Whut way?”

  “That way.”

  “Kevin Tarnish,” Maggie gasped. “Ya can’t be tellin’ me yar jealous of a man who threatened both of our lives.”

  Kevin couldn’t help but smile. “It’s because he threatened our lives that I worry about how he looks at you.”

  “Kev—”

  A sharp rap at the door made Maggie start. Her hands pressed to her chest and she backed into Kevin as he stood up. The door swung open and Mr. Brody peeked his head in. “You folks enjoy the cod?”

  They both stared back at him. Kevin said, “What do you want?”

  Brody nodded to Maggie. “Cap’n wants a word with the lady.”

  Kevin said, “No.”

  Brody at him. “I said the Cap’n wants a word with the lady.”

  “I heard you, and the answer is still no.”

  “Do I have to truss ya both up and drag her down there?”

  Kevin started to pull Maggie aside, and step around her to face the man, but she pulled away from him and stepped toward the door. Brody stepped back to let her out. She looked back at Kevin and said, “I tink oy can car fur m’self, Kevin Tarnish. You jus’ be waitin’ ‘ere and I’ll be bach presently.”

  Brody looked to Kevin. “Yer probably next, Doc. Cap’n just wants to make sure yer stories match is all.”

  The cook started to close the door when Kevin shouted out, “Mags!”

  Brody allowed her to peek back in. Kevin said, “I love you.”

  Maggie batted her painted lashes at him and waved a shooing hand. “Oh, go on now.”

  Then Brody closed the door, sealing Kevin in.

  And Maggie out.

  ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

  Kinney stood up from behind his desk as Brody brought Maggie in. The young Scottish girl almost stumbled in after Brody’s gentle push, nearly tripping on the Persian rug as she stepped into the room. Kinney glared at Brody, assuming the man shoved her, and Brody only shrugged in return.

  The cook said, “I’ll just be outside your door, sir.”

  “No, Mr. Brody, we’re going to tap the sky lanes, so I’ll need your hands at bay.”

  Brody glanced to Maggie, saw the worried look in the woman’s big blue eyes, then glanced to the captain’s oppressive frame. “Sir, I don’t think you should be alone with a pris—”

  “Go, Mr. Brody.”

  “Sir, I—”

  “That’s an order.”

  Maggie, her hands clasped below her bodice, said, “T’is okay, Mr. Broody. The Captain and oy are jus’ gonna ‘ave a cuppa and a chat.”

  Brody blinked at her.

  “Chit chat,” she clarified, then smiled at him, shooing him off as she did Kevin a moment earlier.

  Kinney raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips as Brody stepped out and closed the door. He made his way from around the desk, moved to the door, locking it from the inside. Apart from the usual wheel bolts, the door was fitted with a skeleton key lock, which Kinney turned, then faced Maggie, and showed her the key before tucking it into his vest pocket next to his watch.

  Maggie smiled crookedly. “Oh, thar was no need t’ be lockin’ us in, Cap’n Kinney, sar. I got no where to rune inside an airship.”

  “Indeed.” He stood as tall as the ceiling would allow and gestured to his bed. “Afraid there’s only the bed to sit upon, dear lady, so forgive my ungentlemanly invitation.”

  Maggie nodded to the expensive desk. “Thar’s a seat behoined the disk.”

  Kinney looked at her. He considered her, his eyes seeming to go blank as he studied her face. He finally said, “I’ll make this plain, my dear.” He sniffed. “I find you physically attractive, and I would like to make love to you.”

  Maggie went pale, her clasped hands moving up her bodice to her neck. As her eyes widened, she opened her mouth to speak, but Kinney raised his hand. “Please don’t react like that. I am an officer of the Empire. Only ground troops rape prisoners.” He moved to his desk and sat on the edge as Maggie glanced to the door. “And no, my dear, I’m not going to threaten you, or your husband by telling you that if you don’t disrobe and spread your legs for me, I’ll have you both hung, nor will I say you’re cleared and I’ll let you off at our next port of call if you do favor me with your body.”

  Maggie shook her head. His words were like the barking of a slavering dog. She heard nothing of his denials and promises, only the threat beneath them that existed regardless of his words. She took a step toward the door that, while locked, offered a better chance of escape than the six-inch black porthole.

  Kinney regarded her, his eyes still on her face, not leering over her body. The eye contact made Maggie feel even more uncomfortable, though the man made no overt moves against her. He took a deep breath and folded his arms over his chest. “It was merely an invitation, my dear. I want us to speak plainly. I want to be inside your body, then leave my deposit on your lovely skin.” He glanced over his shoulder at his desk. “Afraid I have no condoms. The only girl on this ship is Radio, and she’s betrothed to Mr. Brody.”

  “Ow truly nice for dem,” Maggie gulped and stood by the door. “I wan’ta go bach to me ‘usband, please, Captain. You’ve made meh very uncomfortable.”

  “My invitation…?”

  “No,” she said plainly.

  “You can go back after we chat then,” he said, raising his hands and clapping them together. He rounded the desk and sat down. “I won’t bring up intercourse again unless you do, my dear. I want you to know I respect your state of refusal, but you must realize that I would like certain needs to be met.” He leaned back, “So, while we chat, I want you to consider if you’d rather favor me with a simple kiss below the belt. I would be perfectly content with that.”

  “No,” she repeated, her face burning with boiling fury. She put a hand on the door latch.

  “Fine as wine, then. Let’s discourse rather than intercourse.”

  Maggie turned and tugged at the door latch. Of course it didn’t budge, and when she slapped her palm against the iron plate near the latch, the sound only echoed flatly within the captain’s quarters. “I’ll scream,” she said.

  “Why?” Kinney seemed genuinely surprised. “Have I not been clear that you don’t have to do anything you don’t wish to, my dear?”

  “Aye, you come near me wit dat ting and I’ll rip it right off n’ shove it up yer snobby nose!”

  “That sounds rather unpleasant by comparison.” Captain Kinney sat back and laced his gloved fingers together. Of course, he had absolutely no intention of laying a hand on Maggie. She was a married woman, after all. Even if she begged to service him in exchange for freedom, he wouldn’t take the offering—just as he wouldn’t with Carrie Bynes.

  No, this was a tactic, a stratagem of direct precision bombing that breaks an enemy and makes them fumble. Her own mind would turn against her. She would create her own imagined ultimatums, then reveal every truth about her and her pirate-doctor husband.

  He waited for her to calm down before gently asking his questions.

  He had all night.

  Chapter 11, Pandora

  I came to with a blinding pain behind my left eye, followed closely by the realization that I was in my own bed, and Pandora was leaning over me, dabbing my forehead with a cool damp cloth. “Where—?” I croaked.

  She shushed me. “I knew I couldn’t make it to your bathroom—which ya really need to clean, by the way—so I jumped the rail.” She nodded toward the clock face window.

  I started to turn my head toward the giant clock, beyond which now displayed a spray of bright stars over a calm Pacific. I winced from the effort and she narrowed her eyes at me.

  “Please. I’ve dangled from higher locations, Johnny.” Her smile was pitying me. “You should really clean out the storeroom under yer house, too.”

  “You could have fallen through the glass, stumbled, hurt yourself.”

  She dropped the cool cloth on my face and stood. “Yeah, so?”

  I winced as I pulled the cloth away, and struggled to sit up. I watched her move up the steps toward the kitchen area. “Where are you going?”

  “To fetch a knife so I can cut the demon outta my belly.”

  “Pandora!” The stabbing pain in my head flashed with bright white lights and black circles. A wave of nauseating dizziness swirled around my brain. I almost fell as I swung my legs out of the bed and tried to stand. “Don’t!”

  “Lay down. Relax.” She moved to my cabinets and started pulling them open. “I’m kiddin’. I ain’t gonna kill it, yet.”

  “Please…don’t.”

  “Shushup! I said relax.”

  I rubbed my forehead as I sat on the edge of the bed, glancing around, squinting for my timepiece. My hand fumbled to my watch fob. “How long was I—?”

  “About two hours,” she said as she began cleaning the same pot in which I’d made her soup.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Lay still, old man. I’m fixin’ to make us supper. Then we’re gonna talk.”

  “Talk?”

  She shot me a look. “I said lay still.”

  I don’t remember passing out again, but that must be what happened, because I woke some time later to the wonderful aroma of a real meat and potatoes meal. I blinked, and rolled to sit on the edge of my bed. A table had been moved so I could eat from here, and Pandora had pulled one of the wing backs so she could sit opposite and join me.

  I said, “You shouldn’t be moving heavy furniture in your condition.”

  “Cursed, ya mean?” She smirked and shrugged. “What’s gonna happen that I wouldn’t give two licks about?”

  I would have argued, but I was still getting my bearings. A curl of steam rose from a slice of boned meat—I guessed a pork chop, or small steak, and there were baby tomatoes, a baked potato, a sprig of mint and some jellied beets. “Pandora.”

  “That’s my name.” Her smirk deepened as she cut a slice of her own meat and tucked it into her mouth. She spoke as she chewed. “You didn’t have squat for supper, so while you was out I made a run.”

  My eyes widened. “You went out?”

  She waved her steak knife over our plates. “I told ya you didn’t have nothin’. There was only half a can o’ soup and no tellin’ how long it was sittin’ out.”

  “I’d just opened it for you.”

  She nodded, “Yeah, I hates soup. Drowned veggies.” She took another bite, motioned pointedly with the knife at my plate. “Eat. No tellin’ when you’ll get another feast like this, mister hidin’-from-pirates-all-day.” She winked.

  I feared for her. She didn’t know these men as I did, or maybe she did, but forgot she couldn’t defend herself with magics. Then I was drawn to the meal, my body pushing my mind out of the way to enjoy what was truly the best I had eaten in weeks.

  Pandora suddenly cleared her throat. “It was a ghoul.”

  I looked up, the fork paused just outside my lips. “Pardon?”

  “What raped me,” she said flatly. “A cold-skinned monster staked me down and humped on me.”

  My fork lowered to my plate with a loud clack.

  She only glanced at me, then mostly kept her eyes down to her plate. “He was a talkin’ ghoul—not like the rest. He was real smart-like, and even come out in the daylight.”

  “You’re serious?” I said, “He—”

  She looked at me with an admonishing gaze. “You wanted t’ hear this, so shushup and listen.”

  “I’m sorry, Pandora, but you don’t have to—”

  “Shush!”

  I nodded, pouted, motioned for her to continue as I pretended to eat. “Please.”

  She sighed, put her fork down and folded her hands in front of her plate. “T’was back in New Yorke. I was helpin’ out my good friend, Bryce Landry.” She glanced up at me. “You heard o’ him?”

  I shook my head. “The name Landry is familiar, but I expect it’s common.”

  “Nah. If you know it, it’s ‘cause of the family is rich and all. One of the biggest holdings in the Confederation.”

  “I see.”

  She scratched at the back of her head as she recollected, “Bryce’s poppa is a holdings owner, got ties at the Citadel and all that.” She lifted her chin proudly. “Bryce is a decorated war hero too, a true gentleman of the South.”

  I nodded, wanting the story to rotate back to the point of its origin, but I was happy to see the girl talking.

  Pandora’s hands fell to her lap, edging under the globe of her pregnancy, and her large brown eyes drifted to the darkened clock face window. “T’was a mess.”

  I didn’t interrupt, nor prod her on as she stared, lost in the daydream of her memories. I could tell by her face that the “mess” to which she referred was far worse than she was letting on.

  “There was a corporate dust-up over some property the Landry’s let fall into Impy hands. My daddy and I infiltrated the Yancorp—”

  “Yancorp?”

  “Yankee corporation.” She glanced at me, then back to the window. “Thorne & Wolfe, though part of the dust-up was that it had changed to Thorne, and…him.”

  I watched as her face contorted with a sour memory.

  “Hearse. That was the ghoul’s name.” She looked at me squarely, but her eyes were still in the past. “You know, like a dead person mobile.”

  I nodded my understanding.

  “Teivel Hearse was the ghoul.”

  “The talking ghoul actually had a name?”

  In all my studies, and in all my research for my novels, plays and scripts, I never found out why the same experiments that turned little girls into witches turned boys into monsters.

  “It weren’t no regular animal ghoul. I killt a lot of them when I was back in Yorke. This one was more a man, grown up, well-spoken, crafty-like, and magic-wieldin’. Them other ghouls bowed and scraped at him.”

  I blinked again. “How is that possible?”

  She shrugged. “Don’t matter. He’s dead now. I’m sure of that.”

  “You—?”

  “Killt ‘im. Yeah. It’s a long story, but the long and short of it is I was protectin’ some friends who needed help stoppin’ him and the Yancorp he’d tied in with.” She ate some more as I stared at her, slack jawed. I suddenly had far more questions than I did when I first found her.

  She swallowed and looked at me, now more animated, as if she were telling a tale that was merely that, a fictional yarn from a book. “Oh, you shoulda seen it, Old John. Airships and sea ships, kites, planes, fire rainin’ down to the ocean and there I was mitts up in a full-on duel with the King of Ghouls.”

  “This battle was over a business claim, you said? And this Hearse was involved?”

  She nodded as she stabbed at her food. “Couldn’t tell ya the ins and outs. Bryce was tryin’ to get someone back to her home—but that didn’t have nothin’ to do with this.” She smacked at her rounded belly and I winced.

  “Pandora, please—!”

  “He raped me, Scribbler John. I shouldn’t has to keep this thing growin’ inside me.”

  I closed my mouth and slumped in my chair as I saw the pain come back to her beautiful eyes.

  “Teivel Hearse dressed me up like a bride, then staked me down with my legs spread wide.” She blinked and the whites of her eyes started to redden. Tears welled around them.

  I had heard enough. I raised my hand and offered a compassionate smile.

  “They watched.” She swallowed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “His monsters watched while he…” Pandora made an “OK” sign with her left hand, then plunged the index finger of her right into the hole made by the “O.” I held out my hand again, waving at her that I understood full well.

  “Pandora, I understand it’s painful for you, but I think it’s good you told me what you have. I imagine it helps straighten out your head a little? But you can stop there. Please.”

  She nodded, her eyes watery. “Eat,” she said.

  Her plate was nearly empty, so I ate more to catch up. Between bites, I said, “I like that you’re talking to me.”

  “Yeah. Guess you’re easy to talk to,” she said glumly, rubbing her belly.

  I quickly said, “So, I know you’re a Magicca—a witch. And I know that the corporations gave you all different names to protect you from hexes thrown by one another, that another Magicca who knows your real name can harm you. But…may I ask—?”

 

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