A Tale of Two Airships (Take to the Skies Book 2) (25 page)

Though the insides weren’t visible, the slight tug pulled at my finger as the ball inside clung to the tip of my magnet. Time to try and slide this thing through the pathway, like guiding a river through a channel. The first couple tries ended with the ball dropping back into place. Right now we needed to be out there with my crew and the old regime, claiming our revenge and slicing a path through the lineup of Red Oak mercenaries who dared to get into our way. Not wasting away our time stuck inside here.

My breath came out in a hiss as I tunneled in on the lock ahead of me. I managed to get it a step further, though when it slid back into place, it traveled to the beginning again. After a couple more tries, I’d discerned enough of a pathway to hazard a guess—after all, the manufacturer of these locks had certain patterns they liked to follow, and I’d learned them all. The urgency of the situation had begun a marching beat in my mind, which shook my focus in the process. 

I dragged the small ball through, using the tip of the magnet to guide the way. It traveled through the circuit unimpeded, and my breath caught in my throat as I came to a stopping point.

A second later, a click broke through the silence of the room, and the lock opened. A shaky breath came from my lips as I pushed the door open, the creak of the hinges echoing in the silence of the room.

Unfortunately Scaara lay in the way, but with the way horror flickered onto Isabella’s eyes, I wouldn’t make her move the body.

Ignoring the metallic scent invading my nostrils, I pulled Scaara out of the way, enough for Jack and Isabella could slip through. Isabella bent over her friend’s body, slipping the knives out. Jack, on the other hand, made his way to Nellie and snagged her pistol. We sure as hell wouldn’t be stomping outside unarmed.

This close to the door, I heard the sounds from outside. The bark of gunfire. Bloodcurdling screams as people died. Shouts, grunts, and hollers as folks battled it out. We’d be plunging into that hellish landscape, a flat out brawl between traitors and trues—a battle I’d fought in once before. Perhaps those who chose this lifestyle weren’t so far off from the soldiers and their wars.

“Let’s join our crew,” I said, keeping my voice low as I marched to the door, kicking it open. “We’ve got some bastards to kill.”

Chapter Twenty Eight

Even amidst the chaos, those canary yellow tents stuck out like eyesores. Except with all the gunfire flying about, holes tore through the canvas, followed by blood splattering across the surface. Dozens of people spread out through the campground, and amidst the flying fists and glint of knives, distinguishing individual faces grew much harder. Gypsy fought gypsy, and I wouldn’t be able to tell which clanmate was safe or not unless they tried to stick a knife in my gut.

I gripped tight to Scaara’s pistol as we raced down the stairs, eager to get out of this easy target zone. Smoke drifted through the air in the wake of bullets flying, combining with the smell of blood and dirt to form one acrid tang.

Red Oak mercenaries scattered about the campground, but under the spray of their machine guns, rebelling gypsies didn’t stand a chance. The way things were going, we wouldn’t last very long unless we found a way to take those weapons away from them. Once they ran out of ammo, they had a whole other tent to run to if they wanted to restock. First though, I had to find my crew.

“Crew of the Desire, rally to me,” I screamed at the top of my lungs. My voice barely made a dent in the surrounding uproar. If I wanted my crew, I’d have to find them myself. I leaned in to Isabella and Jack. “Split up,” I called to them, “find as many of ours as possible, and meet me at the statue on the far side.”

Running blind would get me killed with the way bullets sprayed through the air where well armed Red Oaks marched through. Instead, I used the steps as a vantage point. Attacking gypsies was too dicey to risk when I didn’t know who was friend or foe, so my best bet would be to expend my energy on those mercenary bastards. The more I dealt with mercenaries, the worse of a reputation they’d begun to have in my book.

I lifted Scaara’s pistol and aimed for closest one toting a machine gun. My aim was true, and a second later, they dropped from sight into the morass of people swarming the campground. Bodies littered the ground, and the scent of rent flesh dominated, raw enough to send anyone reeling. A bullet whizzed over my head, more like an exploratory shot—time to jet. To find my crew, I’d have to dive into the pockets.

Jack and Isabella had taken my right and left respectively which left one direction unturned—the straight line towards the statue. And tactically the most risky. So of course, I plunged into the fray.

The first group I raced up to was a tangle of flying limbs. Knives glinted as gypsy fought gypsy, and as I tried to maneuver around them, one of those sharp points snaked out and sliced a strand of my hair. Out of the four guys and one girl going toe to toe in the group, they all resembled caravan-folk, none of them crew or Red Oaks.

I caught the sleek glint of the muzzle from yards away. Knowing what would follow, I ducked behind the group right as the mercenary bastard unleashed a machine gun on the entire group, eliminating friend and foe alike. Apparently even the traitors classified as expendable in Andreas Otthmann’s book. Flecks of blood splashed against my cheek as the gypsies dropped, torn apart by the bullets as the mercenary unloaded ammo without a care.

Keeping low, I raced away as fast as possible—I couldn’t outmatch a machine gun, even if I fired as fast as possible. As I wove around to another group, a fist flew over my head, an inch from connecting with my face. I glanced up to spot Nathaniel on the tail end.

“Boy-o,” I hollered, “To the statue!” To help him along, I lobbed one hell of a right hook at the gypsy he attacked. My fist connected to skull with a solid thump sending reverberations to my elbow. The gypsy gave one woozy spin as he tried to turn around, but by the time he faced me, his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He dropped to the ground. I patted Nathaniel on the shoulder, urging him forward, and the gypsy woman who’d been helping him took the cue as well.

All three of us raced towards the statue. Another Red Oak mercenary began stalking towards us, but before he lifted his behemoth of a machine gun, I squeezed my trigger. No point in carrying big bad weapons if you were slow on the quick draw. Blood blossomed from his chest, and before he could fire the machine gun, he slammed against the ground with a traveling thud.

Another group blocked our way, this one including a whole mess of gypsies tangled with some Red Oaks mixed in. However, this close of quarters, no one fired guns. Instead, fists and spittle flew everywhere. I prepared to bypass the whole mess and make a mad dash for the statue when I caught a familiar stocky frame—our crewmember Cobb.

I leaned over to Nathaniel. “Let’s get him out of there.” Octavius’s tall frame loomed beside him as he slung punches in the opposite direction. They’d gone the back-to-back route, turning themselves into a danger to anyone who approached.

Before I could dive in to pull them out, one of the gypsies wheeled towards me, a scowl on his mug and all sorts of pissed off in his glare. I threw up my arms in defense to the blow I expected—until his boot slammed into my stomach from underneath. I stumbled, the air rushing from my lungs. Wheezes escaped my throat as I tried to fill my lungs again.

My fists came up to block the blows on instinct, the second those punches started raining down. The gypsy slung ‘em hard and fast, but once I regained my breath, I rushed. His blow connected, straight to my injured shoulder, which radiated with blinding pain. I clenched my jaw and fought through it, using the opening to pop one back. My fist curved under and up to hit the underside of his chin. My knuckles scraped his neck as a strangled gasp came from his throat. He danced back, as nimble on his feet as Isabella. Gypsies knew how to train fighters well.

The skin of his throat turned raw and red—he’d be feeling the blow—and his eyes darkened with rage. He reared back his arm to sling a punch, but I caught the twitch of his knee. Wouldn’t fall for the trick. A grin flashed on my face as the thrill of the fight rushed through me, as insane a brew as I ever drank. Letting him feint with the fist, I took a light thump to the shoulder.

When his knee shot up, I was ready.

Driving the point of my elbow between the soft spot right under his kneecap, an audible snap followed. The man’s face paled three shades, and seconds later he curled over, hurling onto the ground from the pain. I didn’t have enough time to finish him off—I had to make it to the statue.

“Cobb, Octavius, let’s go,” I called to them. Nathaniel had helped clear the way, as well as our gypsy friend, who’d gathered a couple more as we’d run. I’d gone from one lone ranger to a unit of six. The more we could form a united front, the better chance we’d stand against the mercenaries and traitors.

Our group maneuvered around the fringes of several groups fighting, but at this point, we had to make it to the statue. Any of ours this close could take the cue and rally. I scuffed dirt as I ran and took inventory of all the bruises and scrapes I’d collected. Every muscle in my body ached like a bruise, but rest belonged to those who could afford it. Our handful of pennies remaining after repairs and fuel for the Desire kept us permanently poor, and therefore, off of the guest list. 

Out of the corner of my eye, a Red Oak surged from one of the groups, his boots and the muzzle of his pistol pointing our way.

“Duck,” I shouted. My soles kicked up stones and dust while we raced along.

The spray of bullets hailed in from high a second later. The way they wasted ammo, a regular crew would’ve run out in seconds, but Scaara warned us they had stores and stores of backup supplies in the nearby tents. Which gave them more of an edge than we could hope to counter. Air whooshed from above as the bullets whizzed by. Nathaniel let out a grunt as one clipped him in the shoulder, slicing through his shirt. Though we kept low, we didn’t stop running.

Isabella had snagged Mordecai and Cole, all three waiting for us by the statue. At the sight, I couldn’t help the frantic scan over the crowd for Geoff—I hadn’t seen him since this all started. My heart pounded at a fast tempo in my chest as we continued our run, closing the yards between us and the statue. When I arrived at the base, my breath puffed out in short bursts, and shards of pain lanced through my chest after the number of blows I’d received to the gut.

A familiar figure slipped around from behind the statue, his hazel eyes twinkling as he caught my gaze. “Well, well, you managed to get yourself into some trouble.”

“While you were off gallivanting in the woodlands, I suppose.” I flashed my pearly whites at Geoff. Behind us, the forest sprawled out in a tangle of trees, bushes and moss, and an idea struck me. I shifted to face the gypsies we’d gathered. “Your people know these woods better than anyone, yes?” The woman beside me nodded, the motion causing her curls to shake as her grip tightened around her dagger. “Gather as many as you can—take the fight to the woods. We need any sort of advantage we can get against the Red Oaks’ weapons.”

At that, the gypsies scattered, rushing into the fray to pull out their own folks. Right as they left, Jack emerged, followed by four more of our crew. They raced towards the giant granite statue of some discoverer brandishing a telescope as if he were ready to join the fight too. Though not the best cover, the base spanned over five feet long and tall enough to cast one hell of a shadow. Besides, we’d take anything at this point.

“Bea, the plan’s in motion,” Geoff murmured into my ear.

My jaw tightened. “Well then, let’s take the battle to the woods.”

The first of the gypsies broke free, running as fast as they could for the forest. While some of the Red Oaks tried to shoot them, others began to give chase. That was our signal—time to fly.

“Crew of the Desire, follow me,” I roared, my voice slicing through the murmurs, the shouts, and the bark of the guns. With that, I ignored the aching in my bones and sprinted. The forest lay mere yards away from the statue, but the hairs on the back of my neck prickled as we closed the gap. Exposed like this, we were vulnerable as anything. Bullets whizzed to the left, and a grunt came from someone behind me. We couldn’t stop though—if we stopped, we’d all fall.

Shade cooled my skin the moment we stepped off from the packed dirt campground and into the squish of the forest loam beneath our feet. Like any good marksman knew—cover meant the difference between a bullet through your brain and living another day, and amidst all of these massive trees, there were plenty of places to hide.

“Scatter, crew,” I shouted the commands, and they followed orders, groups of three or four of us picking large oaks and claiming our cover. Geoff and Cobb stood beside me, both carrying their pistols and ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

Leaves crunched underfoot as more folks raced into the forest. I peered around the edge of the tree, sucking in a deep inhale of the crisp, charred air as it tickled my nose. Our gypsy friends booked it as they darted back and forth in a weaving pattern to disrupt any clear targeting. With the way Red Oaks wasted ammo though, their techniques bought them little time. They unleashed those nightmarish machine guns into the forest. Bullets flew overhead while others studded into trees, making it part of the way through before those thick cores stopped the motion. Smoke billowed up in the wake of their warfare.

Here we might stand a chance to thin them out, though if we were playing a long game, we were more likely to run out of ammo. I checked Scaara’s pistol, wishing I had Matilda in my hands. She’d had a full clip, and while I’d only fired a couple shots, I had to be conservative with my use, because once I’d exhausted those, I didn’t have more. Sweat pricked my forehead, and a drop slithered down my cheek, tickling on the way.

I peered out again, scanning for the Red Oaks I could target. As for the gypsies, unless one rushed to me with their knife raised, I couldn’t risk firing on the wrong person. In the distance at the campground, I caught a glimpse of blonde curls, and a sneer tugged my lips. Darren, the head honcho, stomped through the place with his machine gun, targeting anything moving with a spray and pray technique that reeked of finesse. My muzzle aimed his way on instinct, but he strayed too far out of range to risk pulling the trigger. Regardless, one of the bullets here had his name written on it.

Geoff took the other side, and a second later, his gun barked as he spotted a target. I peeked out in time to see one of the mercenaries hit the forest floor with a resounding thud. The big guy following behind her lifted his AK and took aim. I dodged behind the tree, followed by Geoff as a rain of bullets blew past us, more than a couple studding the oak. One blew clean through, veering too close to my cheek for comfort as sawdust flew up in the wake.

“Further in,” I murmured, tilting my head to the next tree out, which lay feet away. We kicked off at the same time, making a mad dash for the other tree. My heart leapt into my throat as my legs churned beneath me. Stay out of sight. Stay out of sight. After I almost collided with the solid trunk, my palm slid across the ragged circumference as we circled around to cover again.

More gypsies flooded this forest, some of them choosing the thinner, shorter trees. It took me a moment before I understood why. Handholds had been carved into some of the trunks, leading to flatter perches they used for guard posts. No wonder we’d never seen Scaara and the others coming. Isabella had always said her people were resourceful, but after watching them in action the message sank home.

A lanky gypsy guy climbed a tree in our view, but I didn’t rest easy. I didn’t recognize him, and therefore he wasn’t safe in my book yet. From his vantage point, if he sided with team traitor, he’d have a clear shot at all three of us.