She let him go. Yveun turned. The woman was cloaked as he was, hooded, and Yveun could only make out a strong chin and hooked nose from the shade of her cowl, but he could not recognize the shade of her skin in the low light. A smirk adorned her mouth, and Yveun was certain he’d won.
“I will think it over.” She turned, as if her sole intent was to prove him wrong.
“You would be wise not to disobey your King,” he cautioned, claws jutting from his fingers.
She merely glanced at them. “I gave you your life, you tolerate my disobedience. A fair exchange, Dono.”
The woman gave a small wave, dropping off the side of the wall and into the depths below. He didn’t hear her land, her movements more precise than that of a cat’s. Yveun bared his teeth into the darkness, frustrated and delighted at the same time.
He hadn’t even learned her name.
21.Florence
Florence was quite literally running out of foul language. She spat vulgarity with the same reckless abandon as she pulled on the throttle. The train went faster when she cursed at it.
She turned to the pressure gauges, only about three-fourths of which she could actually boast an understanding of their numbers. And of that three fourths, she only had a rudimentary working knowledge. Ari would have been driven up a wall. Helen and Will would laugh at the mere sight of her behind the engine. But none of them were there now.
Florence didn’t have an endless supply of numbers that spewed from the depths of her mind, only some vulgar phrases. She was certainly not one of the most gifted Ravens to walk the guild hall in Holx, just a little crow on the run. She had her wits, a basic amount of education in a number of areas, two dead bodies, and a lot of endwig as motivation for some quick thinking.
The train rattled and shook as it gained steam. Embers spit out from the engine gate, singeing her clothes and skin. The vessel lurched violently, sending her scrambling for some variety of hold that wouldn’t leave her tumbling out the side of the car. The clamp of teeth echoed by her ear as an endwig nearly missed her shoulder.
With a grunt, she righted herself in the engine room, her hands finding the levers again. Endwig were now splattering against the side of the train. Their attempts at a hypnotic hum were drowned out by the sound of the wheels on rails, the squeal of steel on steel as they rounded a corner in the wood.
It looked like they’d gained enough steam—finally—to outrun any real threat from the monsters. Florence still pushed the train hard, like a bullet from the chamber. This wasn’t the Underground, where the next move was to proceed with quiet and caution. The endwig slept during the day and fed in the twilight hours. She would take them past the dawn and into the only “safe” time they had now.
They. Florence hoped it was still a case of “they” and not just “her”. Nora and Derek only had to fend off the endwig for a short time before she’d gotten the train up to speed. After that it was just a matter of not falling out. Florence began to ease up the steam. If they couldn’t handle staying on the train, she really had no hope of helping them all the way to Ter.1.
The train coasted along the track, slowly losing momentum. They’d wasted a lot of coal on their flight, and she’d have to make what was left stretch. That meant using the brakes as minimally as possible and squeezing every last bit of heat out of the steam that it had to give. It was nearly midday by the time they finally ground to a halt.
She collapsed, exhausted, still sweating from the heat of the engine and the stress. Florence leaned against the wall, her head tipped back. She took in long, luxurious breaths of air and savored the silence. The blood of Anders and Rotus was caked on the floor around her. She’d ditched their bodies at some point in the early dawn in the hopes they might draw away the endwig. But their blood remained, and likely would for some time.
The train sighed softly with motion from the back. Florence heard footsteps nearing the engine door. She pulled her revolver, holding it up at arm’s length.
Lined up in her sight was a pair of familiar coal colored eyes. Derek slowly raised his hands.
The gun was heavy in Florence’s palm. It was like she lifted a cannon made of pure lead, not a revolver. Her finger tensed on the trigger. The hammer struck on the gun.
And nothing happened.
“Bang.” Florence had run out of canisters three hours ago. “If you were an endwig, you’d be dead,” she lied.
“Good thing I’m not.” Derek seemed to have the sense not to point out the falsehood of the weary Revolver’s claims, seeing as she’d just saved his life.
“Good thing.” She dropped the gun with a loud clang as it met the metal floor and closed her eyes. “Did Nora make it?”
“She did.”
“I felt one of your explosions. Damn near knocked me out of the engine,” Florence muttered. Exhaustion crashed down on her all at once. She never wanted to open her eyes again.
Derek stepped up into the engine, approaching her without hesitation or question. A hand slipped under her knees, the other rounding her back.
“Don’t,” she commanded as he tried to lift her.
“Nora is already asleep. I’m taking you back to the car with us.”
“No.” Florence shook her head. “We’re too close to the endwig. I need to sleep in the engine in case we need to make a sudden and unexpected escape.”
“Are you our Raven now?”
