Suzanne Lazear - Charmed Vengeance

That she would,” Steven replied dryly. Especially one that couldn’t think for itself.

Dr. Heinz rubbed his chin. “Yes, I could. But it would take time … months.”

“Oh.” Steven’s heart fell all the way to the floor and lay at his feet, gaping like a fish on land. “We need it in about two weeks.” To give them about a week’s buffer to get it back to the Otherworld, just in case they encountered more … helpers.

“I … ” The doctor went quiet for a long moment, then walked into the other room, gesturing for them to follow. When they joined him in what seemed like half storeroom half junkyard, Dr. Heinz pulled back a curtain. “There is Hilde. She’s unfinished. She’s being programmed to play games, tell stories, and sing songs. She, too, will respond to voice commands, but cannot speak directly.”

Hilde was smaller than Helga, a child instead of a woman, with a molded dress and hair.

“Could she dance?” James asked.

Now Hilde, Hilde would be perfect. “Could you have her ready in a week?”

Dr. Heinz’s mouth clamped shut and his eyes narrowed. “If you want Hilde and not one like her, it will be expensive, but yes, I could have her ready in a week for the right price.”

“Oh. Right.” Something else Steven had forgotten— Igan had taken everything. Mathias had given them supplies, but not money to purchase the item. That was his responsibility.

Dr. Heinz stiffened. “I think it would be best for you to go. Return when you have the money and we’ll talk.

Is there something we can trade or do for you?” James asked.

“Not unless you can bring back my daughter.” Dr. Heinz stomped back into his main lab. Steven and James followed.

“Daughter?” Steven asked softly. “Wait, was Hilde for her?” An automaton that played games, told stories, and sang would be ideal for a small child.

Dr. Heinz nodded. “She doesn’t know about Hilde, hence my willingness to sell her for the right price then create another when I get her back. The police keep promising to find my daughter. But they haven’t.” His cheeks flushed with anger, hands fisting. “If I could, I’d go after her myself.”

“Wait, she’s been taken?” For a moment Steven had thought that she’d died.

“My Rahel is only five. She’s all I have left.” Pain swept through Dr. Heinz’s face causing it to contort. “She was taken several days ago. I fear the traffickers got her.

Traffickers?” The very word soured in Steven’s mouth. “I hope not, but who else would steal a child from her own yard? They were reported in the area.” He sighed. “They’re probably halfway across the states by now.

What if we brought her back?” James piped. “If we bring back Rahel in two weeks or less, could we have a fully functioning Hilde for no charge?”

“James, what are you doing?” Steven hissed, eyes bulging. He didn’t know how to find a stolen child. He barely found Noli in the Otherworld and there he could track her by her sigil.

James shook his head and hissed, “Trust me.”

Dr. Heinz looked at the both of them, so much pain in his face that Steven took a step back. “Young gentleman, bring back my sweet Rahel and you may have whatever you wish.”

They sat in the train as it sped back to New York City. Unlike Noli, Steven didn’t mind them. He put his head in his hands. “I can’t believe you promised him we’d find his little girl. Nay, if our wits run the wild-goose chase, I am done,” he quoted.

That’s what this felt like, a wild-goose chase. “Ease up,” James shot back from the seat next to him.

“And stop quoting Chaucer.”

“It’s Shakespeare, you heathen,” he corrected. James waved him off. “Whomever. I can’t believe you borrowed a book from him.” He nodded at the book on Steven’s lap. “Boring.”

Steven’s eyes narrowed at his brother. “Machiavelli’s The Prince is not boring.”

“Sure,” he scoffed. “If we pull this off, then we’ll have the best automaton ever and the doctor gets back his little girl. Everyone wins. Besides, the idea of children being stolen makes me ill.”

“Me, too. But time is slipping away. How are we going to find the traffickers?” He picked up the book, grateful he had something to block his brother out with. James shoved a little doll under his nose. “What?” Steven sat up.

“This was Rahel’s. I can use it for a tracking spell.” James’ chest puffed up with pride.

Steven blinked at his brother’s words. “You know a tracking spell? I don’t even know a tracking spell.”

James smirked. “Finding Noli would have gone much differently if you had. Um,” his cheeks flushed. “I had to do something in the Otherworld, so I started working with a magic tutor from the Academe. It was either that or join mother’s royal guard, and you know I’d rather muck stalls than do that.”

“You voluntarily learned spells?” He gaped at his brother in disbelief. Usually James had to be bribed with swordplay to learn spells.

“I told you, I had to do something.” James shrugged it off as if it were nothing. “What do you say, should we try and rescue the little girl?”

What had they gotten themselves into? Part of Steven wanted to rage at his brother for leading them into another idiotic mess. Yet at the same time, if they succeeded then they’d not only have what they sought, but have done something good for someone else in the process. Steven sighed, wishing he could exhale all his problems. “We might as well.”

Certainly they didn’t have more to lose.

Kevighn skulked into yet another bar near the Denver Air Terminal. Hopefully this time the Bright Lady would smile upon him and he’d find someone who was hiring—or going toward San Francisco. He sat at a table with a good view of the bar and ordered a glass of rum from the buxom serving woman.

“Anything else?” She gave him a saucy wink as she set his drink in front of him.

“You wouldn’t by chance know if Snowball’s Chance or Ardentia Nare is in port?” He added an extra coin to her palm along with the cost of the rum. Roderick had introduced him to some very bad gamblers back in Chicago.

She shot him a sly smile, pocketing the coins. “Perhaps.”

Groaning inwardly, he handed her another.

“You looking for work or got a job for them?” Her breasts waggled in his face.

“Work.”

Nodding, she cast a glance around the bar. “Snowball’s Chance is here—Captain’s over in the corner.” She jerked her head to indicate a larger, balding man with a hat who could have stepped right out of a penny dreadful. “Also, you may ask over at the Vixen’s Revenge. I hear they’re looking for someone.”

“Doing what?” Not that it mattered at this point.

“Not sure. But I think they’re having engineering issues.” She giggled, breasts jiggling as she laughed.

Would he have enough coin to find a harbor to drop his anchor in?

“They’ve been here a couple of days, and the captain’s getting testy. Though that captain’s always testy,” she chuckled. “The first mate and some of the crew are at that table over there.” She jerked her head toward a table near the window with two very large men, one of them dark. The third man, one with a mop of chestnut curls, threw back his head and laughed, revealing big, steel-colored eyes. Kevighn studied the man a little more …could it be? These eyes were bluer. Still, there was quite the resemblance, and her brother was an air pirate.

Did he dare? It might be nice to have a connection to Magnolia, if this was, in fact, the right person.

“The one with the curly hair, is his name Jeff?” he asked.

She nodded vigorously. “He’s first mate. Mighty fine pilot.”

Yes, the Bright Lady smiled upon him indeed.

Kevighn handed her another coin. “Buy him another glass of whatever he’s drinking, with my compliments.” She hustled off. He drank his weak rum and sighed, praying everything worked out for the better. He peered at his fellow patrons—this bar wasn’t the dingiest or dirtiest he’d been to since he was exiled.

Magnolia. By the Bright Lady he missed her. Who would have thought a slip of a mortal girl would have gotten under his skin the way she had.

Awhile later, Jeff wandered by. “I hear you’re looking for a job.”

Kevighn nodded, gesturing to the free stool at the small table. “The name’s Kevighn, Kevighn Silver. I’m a fair gunner, have experience with fieldwork and safekeeping, and can pilot a bit. I even know a small amount about engines. Hear you’re having engineering issues?”

Jeff’s eyes flashed in a way that reminded Kevighn of his fair blossom.

“We’re fine,” Jeff replied, with a hint of tension. “You know engineers. I need to do a diagnostic is code for I want to do things to the engines that you won’t approve of and may not actually work.”

Kevighn laughed at his summation. “True.”

Jeff visibly relaxed and took a seat. “The name’s Jeff, Jeff Braddox, first mate of the Vixen’s Revenge.”

Braddox? Then again, he could be trying to protect his family’s good name.

“Got any references?” Jeff looked him over in a way that was, again, reminiscent of Noli. As if he was trying to weigh his soul and read his mind in a single glance.

Kevighn rattled off the fake references Roderick had given him in Chicago.

Jeff rubbed his chin, nodding. “We’ll try it out, and if it doesn’t work we’ll leave you in a large port, one where you can find other work. However … you don’t have any issues working with women—and I mean women crew members, not soiled doves or any such thing, do you?”