“Noli, my little sister, is the new ship’s engineer, not a ship keeper. But she’s a better cook than I am.” Jeff put a protective arm around her waist.

“Oh, that’s too bad. I have a lot of socks that need to be darned.” Thad plopped down on a long bench at the table and poured himself a cup of coffee, emptying the golden contents of the flask into the steaming liquid.

Winky meandered up the stairs and into the galley, sniffing the air like a rabbit, striped hat askew, round wire glasses sliding down his nose. “Jeff made this?”

Noli laughed at his expression. “I may have helped.

Miss Noli,” Winky bobbed his head. “Now I don’t mean to generalize, however, you wouldn’t by chance be able to manage buttons, would you? I can’t see the holes to sew them back on the way I used to.”

“Maybe you could make a trade?” Jeff pulled out a chair for her and she sat down. “We all have chores we do every day around the ship from making breakfast to cleaning the head. Often we’ll swap. I reckon darning socks and sewing on buttons could be worth something don’t you?” He looked at the other men and grinned.

“I might be up for it.” She’d much rather darn socks than clean the head—which was another word for the necessary.

The captain helped herself to breakfast, then passed the plate on. Noli watched and noted that everyone waited for the captain to start eating before taking their first bite.

“Who’s flying the ship?” she asked Jeff as she stirred sugar and powdered milk into her coffee and took a tentative sip. They had white sugar.

“It’s on auto-pilot, but I keep an eye on it.” He stood, taking his plate with him.

Thad took a bite of oatcake and made happy noises. “Now this is not bad at all. Much better than anything Jeff makes.”

She added more sugar to her coffee and took another sip. Ah, much better.

“This is a very good breakfast,” Asa added, his manners slightly more refined than Thad’s. “We’ve got ourselves a new engineer. We still looking for a gunner? Denver might be a good place to find someone.”

Vix nodded. “Preferably someone with fieldwork experience. Noli won’t be leaving the ship much, and certainly her duties are confined to the engine room.”

The firmness to her voice gave Noli the feeling she meant more than the dangers of stealing or whatever they did.

“Noli’s my little sister, did I mention that?” Jeff stood in the doorway between the galley and the bridge, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowing.

“Little sister will be fine,” Asa boomed. “I have little sisters back in England. You’re about sixteen?”

Noli nodded, mouth full of oatcake.

“I wish we’d hire a ship keeper.” Thad licked syrup off his fingers.

“Keep wishing, Thad. We’re not a pleasure boat,” Vix retorted. “We clean our own ship, do our own washing, and fix our own meals.”

It was nice that Vix sniped at more people than her.

“Speaking of pleasure, are we stopping in Denver?” Thad’s eyebrows waggled.

“Yes—and don’t cause any trouble, Thaddeus. We may stop off at a few places along the way, but not for long.” Vix took another pancake, pouring on some syrup. She met Noli’s eyes and gave a nod of approval.

Noli’s insides warmed at the affirmative gesture, she’d done something right.

“What makes a girl like you join a ship like this?” Thad gulped down the rest of his coffee in big slurps.

“It’ll be nice to have a lady onboard,” Winky added shyly. “Appreciate the nice breakfast you made here, Miss Noli.”

“Anytime.” She dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “I don’t mind cooking—or sewing—but I can do far more than that,” she added so Vix wouldn’t comment.

“I officially vote for little sister to cook on Jeff’s days,” Thad offered.

“Here, here.” Asa raised his mug and grinned at Jeff.

Jeff waved his hand in a rude gesture, then he blushed. “Umm … excuse me, Noli.”

Vix made an annoyed noise as she eyed them over her mug of coffee. “She’s a woman, not a lady, though honestly, I don’t mind if you decide to use better manners.”

“Yes, Captain,” everyone muttered.

The captain stood and put her dish in the sink. “Personally, I think you should always trade with Jeff so you cook meals when it’s his turn.” She gave him a sly look. “However, I’d name your price high. Very high.”

Jeff snaked his foot out as if he was going to trip her.

She shoved him playfully in return. “As you were, Mr. Braddox,” she laughed.

Noli chuckled. Perhaps Jeff was right and Vix wasn’t so bad after all. She gathered the remaining dishes. “I think if I cook then Jeff should still have to wash up, right?” Looking to Vix she smiled, hoping she wasn’t crossing a line by teasing back.

“Winky, why don’t you ensure Noli knows everything she needs to about the ship.” Vix picked up her coffee mug and shoved it in Jeff’s hands. “Jeff will wash up. I’ll take the helm.” She strode onto the bridge with as much poise as Queen Tiana.

“And that is our beloved ship’s captain.” The corners of Thad’s lips twitched as he leaned on the back legs of his chair, the unpatched eye gleaming.

Jeff shook his head, smiling to himself, as he began to wash up.

Noli brought him the stack of plates. “You sure know how to pick them.”

He laughed. “Oh, Noli, you have no idea.”

Seven

Detour

“If I ever seen another potato it’ll be too soon,” James moaned as they disembarked the passenger ship in Chicago, their rucksacks slung over their shoulders.

“Considering we’re not in North Carolina yet, you’ll probably will,” Steven replied, tired of his brother’s complaining. “Let’s see if we can talk our way onto a ship to Atlanta then a connection to Raleigh. The cook told me we could definitely get there from Atlanta.” They had a belly full of food, a meal for the road, and even though the captain said it didn’t pay, they’d gotten a couple coins for their work.

“Can’t we go directly there?” James whined as they made their way toward the main part of the terminal. People from all walks of life passed by—from ladies with maids and steam trunks to lowly kitchen boys shuffling along.

Steven studied the large board hanging in the main lobby which displayed arrivals and departures. “I don’t see any direct flights to Raleigh today or tomorrow—not that I was expecting one.” He frowned at the listings. “It looks as if there are a few ships going to Atlanta and one might be in port right now. Should we see if we can gain passage?”

James’ face scrunched in disgust. “Can’t we try cargo ships? Maybe someone’s going by Raleigh? Could we simply stop someplace and ask? I just want to get there.”

Steven studied his pocket watch then glanced back at the board. Checking cargo ships meant they’d probably miss the first airship to Atlanta. But there was another later today and one tomorrow. Never would he have pegged Chicago to Atlanta as a popular route.

“We’ll check, but don’t get your hopes up. If nothing surfaces, we’re heading to Atlanta with no complaints.” What he wanted was for James to stop whining, which he’d been doing constantly since they’d left Los Angeles.

“Deal. Let’s see what we can find.” James led them through the terminal until they found a smoky bar, filled with ship workers drinking and eating, even at this early hour.

The stench of sour ale, stale food, and unwashed bodies made Steven’s nose wrinkle. This wasn’t a place where first class passengers or captains of luxury ships dined. No, this establishment catered to lower workers, cargo haulers, and aeronautical entrepreneurs—those people otherwise known as air pirates.

Like he was perfectly comfortable with places such as this, James strode over, took a stool at the counter, and ordered coffee for both of them from a one-eyed man.

“Coffee? I’d rather have tea.” Steven’s nose wrinkled in disgust as he slid onto the none-too-clean stool next to his brother.

James snorted in distain. “Tea? We’re not at one of your silly social events. Really, we should be drinking beer.”

Beer? Steven wiped the counter in front of him with his handkerchief, trying not to show his blatant repugnance at this substandard establishment. His spine prickled. There were people from the Otherworld here. He should have guessed. Many of their kind who lingered in this realm involved themselves with persons of the lowest common denominator. He and his brother would have to avoid contact so they wouldn’t be recognized. The last thing he wanted was for the queen to know where they headed.

The one-eyed bartender plunked two chipped mugs in front of them filled with something resembling engine grease. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be on your quest?”

Steven’s heart tumbled. Of course James would lead them into a shady bar run by one of the Fae. He wanted to smack himself in the forehead.

James leaned forward, looked both ways, and lowered his voice. “We’re trying to get to Raleigh. Know anyone headed that way?”

Warning bells clanged in Steven’s head. What was James doing? Did he want everyone to know their destination? Maybe it was his sorrow—usually James was more careful than this.

“No, we’re not going to Raleigh, remember?” Steven hissed. “We’re going to … San Francisco.” It was the first city that popped into his head. “Yes, we need to get there as soon as possible—and we’re not the princes. I hear we resemble them a little. Is that true?”

James scowled over his cup of coffee. “I’d rather go to Raleigh or Atlanta.”