Ultimate Nyssa Glass, H. Burke [cat reading book .TXT] 📗

from Ellis to Nyssa. “I wouldn’t hit a lady … or a cripple. I think I need some air.”

Nyssa bit her tongue, resisting the urge to fling words—or perhaps the alarm clock—after Renard.

Amara sank down on the bed with her head in her hands. “I have a headache. Oh why can’t this voyage be over?”

Nyssa bent near Ellis’s ear and whispered. “I need some air, too. If you want to talk to her while I’m gone, go ahead. I’m too roiled up to try.”

“Don’t go after Renard,” he murmured. “As gratifying as it would be for you to throw him overboard, you’re already wanted for one murder. Don’t make it two.”

“I promise.” She kissed his cheek.

His hand grasped hers then loosened, allowing her to slip away.

Nyssa touched the door’s handle and drew back in surprise. A dark, oily substance clung to her fingers. She raised it to her nose. It had the sharp edge of mechanic’s grease.

What have Amara and Renard been up to?

As Nyssa entered the hall, Renard was exiting through the door at the far end, towards the crew quarters. Nyssa hesitated.

The whole point is to avoid Renard and his nonsense. What did Mr. C used to say about peacemakers, though? They’ll be blessed? Find peace? Something like that? Maybe Renard will be more reasonable if I talk to him away from Amara’s influence. 

Nyssa started after Renard. When she got through the door, however, the next hallway was empty.

“Where’d he get to?” she murmured.

She continued down the hall, noting each doorway. Most were labeled as supply closets or clearly markedCrew Only. Renard wouldn’t necessarily acknowledge such a restriction, though. Though Nyssa couldn’t fault him for that. There was a time, not so long ago, when Nyssa made a career out of being places she wasn’t supposed to be.

She walked to the end of the hall. The door here was reinforced steel withKEEP OUTemblazoned across the top.Even Renard wouldn’t poke his nose in there, right?It had to be locked. She touched the handle but pulled away without trying it. Grease coated her fingertips.

This is where they were, then. She considered entering, confronting Renard doing—whatever he was doing.

Does he have his revolver with him?

She decided to wait and speak with him later. So what now? Return to the room? She turned away. Something rattled behind her. Instinctively, she dove for the nearest door, labeledParachutes. The handle gave. She slipped into the cramped, dark space, and held the door closed. Footsteps echoed through the hall, then faded. She counted to a hundred, in time to her pounding heart.

Nyssa scanned the hall. Empty.

“I’m overreacting,” she whispered to herself. “He’s not a hardened criminal. Just a stupid kid … I hope.”

For all she knew, Renard was perfectly capable of cold-blooded murder. Age was no guarantee of innocence.

“I wonder what he was up to in there.” She returned to the door markedKEEP OUT.

It wasn’t locked. Closer examination showed that someone had fiddled with the mechanism, so it would latch but the lock wouldn’t engage. I didn’t peg Renard for particularly clever, but this shows some skill. What is he up to?

She opened the door and nearly fell backwards from the blast of cold air.

Only a small, open deck separated her from the vast emptiness of the sky. She clutched the door frame, gulping great breaths. An air-raft, a smaller version of the zeppelin itself, bobbed in the air beside the deck.

A waist-high railing surrounded the open area and the tail end of the zeppelin’s cigar-shaped casing overshadowed it. However, a large opening had been cut into the deck to allow the air-raft to dock.

I wonder if there’s another smaller airship inside that airship, nestled one inside the other like unending Ruskan nesting dolls.

The air-raft was perhaps thirty feet from one end to the other, with a small passenger gondola that could hold at most four or five people. Red letters on the side of the balloon read,The Mercutio.

If it’s meant to be a life raft, it wouldn’t be much of one. It couldn’t hold a fraction of the crew. Maybe for jaunting back and forth between the airship and port?

She closed the door behind her. The chill air bit at her face, and her nose began to drip. She dabbed at it with her sleeve before continuing her investigation of the deck, her back plastered to the wall of the zeppelin’s gondola.

Finally daring to peel herself from the safety of the wall, she approachedThe Mercutio. The gate to the gondola was open. Inside there was a steering column, videophone, and control board as well as two cushioned benches. A tool box stuffed with greasy rags sat on the floor.

The deck had a few sealed crates, ropes and riggings, but was otherwise bare. Whatever Renard was up to, it had to have been on boardThe Mercutio.

Nyssa clenched her jaw and hopped over the half-foot gap between the airship and its smaller counterpart. The air-raft bobbed beneath her. Yelping, Nyssa hit the deck on her hands and knees.

Her fingers clawed the boards. The raft bounced for what felt like an eternity, first quick like Nyssa’s pulse, then slower, until finally it floated still and steady in space.

She dared to look up.

“Such a ninny,” she chided herself.

Even so, it took her a moment to rise. She pulled herself to her feet but kept one hand on the nearest bench, worried the raft would pitch and send her toppling over the rail.

The bench’s cushion wasn’t the typical fine fabric found throughoutThe Juliet, but rather a rough, water-treated canvas, dyed a vibrant red. Several greasy fingerprints marred the otherwise clean surface.

Nyssa pried at the edge of the cushion. It pulled away from the wooden bench, revealing a cavity beneath. In the cavity sat Amara’s hatbox.

She glanced at the door. Still closed. No sign that Renard or anyone else knew she’d come here. Rather than get out her lockpicks, Nyssa pulled out a penknife and sliced through the thin lining of the box. A cool, hard object