Original: "Trafalgar and Boone," Chapter Nineteen
Only the epilogue remains!
Chapter Nineteen
The sight of Beatrice walking into the courtyard with her face and clothes smeared with blood was enough to convince the majority of Society goons to put down their weapons. They didn’t know what had happened with their leader’s pet psychics, but the fact the bloody woman was still moving forward was proof that fighting wouldn’t do any good. They got onto their knees and laced their hands behind their heads. One man brought up his gun only to have the weapon ripped from his hands by an unseen force and used to pistol-whip him before it was tossed into the woods. That display was enough to make the rest of them surrender.
Once the ground forces had been subdued, Araminta carefully landed the airship on a clear piece of ground north of the palace ruins. Her crew helped secure the prisoners, while the medic tended to Beatrice and Ivy’s wounds. He had a little trouble treating Ivy’s arm seeing as the wound was the only part of her that was visible, but he eventually managed to get a bandage wrapped around her upper arm. When he was finished the circle of gauze hovered in midair like a persistent smoke ring.
Araminta looked into Beatrice’s eyes to check for a concussion. “She must have hit you pretty hard if you’re still dazed.”
“It was my own fault. I used too much energy.” She brushed off the medic’s attempts to check her out. “I’ll be fine. We should concentrate our efforts on finding Dorothy and Trafalgar.”
“They’re still inside somewhere?” Araminta asked, turning to look at the palace ruins.
“Under,” Beatrice said. “When I was... when that woman and I were grappling, I was inside her head. She had just come up to the surface after being underground.” She looked at Leola. “I was hoping you could connect the dots. Trafalgar said you were good at putting the pieces together, making leaps. How should we go about finding them?”
Leola took a deep breath and looked at the area. “Underground. A vast treasure of immeasurable power, somewhere underground.” She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to one side. “It would be very dark.”
Beatrice raised an eyebrow and looked at Araminta.
“Unless,” Leola said, brushing between them to point at three large openings cut into the courtyard. “Unless there was a method of providing light to the underground network.”
The women approached the center ring and peered down into the darkness.
“It seems to be a very long way down.”
Beatrice had already slipped out of her jacket. “Work up a harness, find some rope. A hundred yards should do it, if you have one that long.”
Araminta snapped her fingers at the nearest crewmember and gave him the assignment. She looked at Beatrice and said, “You’re not thinking of going down there alone, are you?”
“It has to be me. I have the best defense.”
Ivy cleared her throat. “Excuse me, hello.”
“Fine, the second-best. But the difference is that if I fall or if the rope is too short, I can float.”
“You can fly?” Leola said.
“I can hover. I can cushion a fall.”
Leola shrugged as if it didn’t make a difference. “Sounds like flight to me.”
Beatrice smirked and let Araminta help her into the harness.
“We’ll stay up here in case there’s any trouble. What else do you need before you go down?”
“Weapons.”
Araminta gave her a pistol, a knife, a flashlight, and after a moment of consideration a first-aid kit. Beatrice put it all in a satchel and slung it over her shoulder. They checked to make sure the rope was secure and then Beatrice moved to stand next to the lip of the opening.
“If it’s too far down for me to shout back up, I’ll tug on the rope three times as a signal to you to reel me in. Try not to get pulled over the side. It’ll be dangerous enough without one of you falling on me.”
Leola rolled her eyes. “We’ll try to be careful. Ready?”
Beatrice turned her back and braced her feet on the lip of the opening. She tested the rope, took a few steadying breaths, and then began walking down into the pit. The walls had been lined with claw bricks, which were sturdy enough to provide a grip for her boots as she descended. The opening was wide enough that she couldn’t reach the opposite side without pushing off and swinging. She was very aware of gravity trying to pull her down, and grateful for the women fighting to keep it from succeeding on the lip of the hole.
“Trix!” Araminta called down. Beatrice looked up and saw the silhouette of her head outlined against the sky. “You have about twenty yards of rope remaining!”
Beatrice looked down and saw the tunnel was about to start narrowing drastically. “It should be enough!” Her voice bounced back to her several times before she saw Araminta nod. Beatrice untied the rope and let herself fall the rest of the way, her feet slipping on the sloped bricks. Instead of forming a cup, there was a narrow opening just wide enough for a person to slip through. She crouched down and saw that it led into a narrow corridor of blue stone.
She slipped out of her harness, dropped the satchel of supplies through the opening, and then got onto her stomach to shimmy through.
#
“I wonder if there’s any connection... labrys being associated with female empowerment and the word labia. Although the axe symbolism is unusual. I should do some reading on that when we get out of here.”
Trafalgar blew a puff of air through her lips. “Yes. You. Should do that.”
“Hm.” Dorothy was seated on the tail of Trafalgar’s jacket while Trafalgar held the arms around her waist to form a sled. She had dragged Dorothy through several twists and turns of the labyrinth, pausing occasionally to shine the torch on the walls to see if there were any directional markings to be found. So far they seemed to be in an entirely different section of the labyrinth than before. Trafalgar shone the light on both sides of the wall, saw nothing, and sighed as she shoved forward.
“Labia is Latin for lip, I believe. But labrys is... Lydian? It’s difficult to say for certain without checking my references. Odd, though, that two civilizations would use the same root for such different ideas. Although a weapon and a maze could be said to describe a vagina as well.”
“Lady Boone!” Trafalgar snapped. “Despite... what you seem to believe. This. Is not easy. And your. Incessant prattling on about genitalia is not. Exactly. Helping the situation.”
Dorothy winced. “My apologies, Miss Trafalgar. Talking helped take my mind off the pain.” Her injured arm was up across her chest, gripping the uninjured shoulder to keep the arm immobile. “I didn’t mean to distract you.”
Trafalgar breathed out sharply and took them around another curve. They could hear noises echoing down the corridor, shouts of alarm or maybe just fear. The Minotaur bellowed from time to time; it was still hunting for the remaining Weeks brother. Dorothy listened for any hint they had gotten closer, but each time she heard evidence of the chase they were farther away.
“It’s ironic,” Dorothy said a moment later. “We’re counting on the fact Orville Weeks won’t be able to escape this maze while at the same time expecting to find a way out of here ourselves.”
“We have the Minotaur on our side.”
“Hmph. I would say--”
“Shush.”
“Sorry. I know you said no talking. The pain...”
Trafalgar dropped the arms of her coat and drew her knife. Her voice dropped to a whisper and she shuttered the torch. “No, shut up. Someone is coming.” She moved to the side of the corridor. A moment later Dorothy could hear footsteps coming from the other direction.
Dorothy whispered, “You can’t just leave me in the middle of the corridor like this!”
“Sh, shut up!”
“I’m a sitting duck!” She began to fumble for her weapon, grunting at the pain that shot through her arm as she did.
Beatrice spoke before she appeared around the corner. “If I were looking to kill you, you’ve both made more than enough noise already.” She turned on her torch and shone it into her face as she stepped into view. “Fortunately, I am here to rescue you.”
Dorothy beamed. “Trix!”
“Miss Sek.” Trafalgar sheathed her knife. “It is very good to see you.”
“And you, Miss Trafalgar. I’m glad to see you well. And the Lady Boone.” She crouched next to Dorothy and cupped her face. “Hello, ma’am. I’ve missed you terribly.”
Dorothy was surprised to find herself teary-eyed. “I’ve missed you as well. What... what happened? There’s blood all over you.”
“You’re one to talk. What happened to you?”
“I was stepped on by the Minotaur.”
Beatrice smiled. “You have all the luck.”
Trafalgar said, “Can you fix it? You seem rather adept at conjuring.”
“Conjuring is one thing. I can’t and won’t use it to fix a bone. It wouldn’t heal properly and lead to trouble down the line. But I can offer you palliative respite from the pain until we have a chance to properly treat the injury. You might feel a little lightheaded and discombobulated, but at least it won’t hurt anymore.”
“Yes, please.”
Beatrice leaned in and kissed Dorothy’s lips. Trafalgar looked away, ostensibly to check for Weeks or the Minotaur. When she looked back Dorothy’s body language was more relaxed. Beatrice opened the first-aid kit she had brought with her and found a sling. She carefully helped Dorothy into it, resting her arm comfortably in the folded cloth before wrapping her ankle with gauze.
“Thank you, Trix.”
“Any time.” She looked up as the air was shaken by another scream, quickly followed by another low roar. “I suppose you’re ready to get out of here.”
Trafalgar said, “Faster would be better, yes.”
Beatrice stood up. “Lucky for you, I know a way.” She held her hand out, fingers splayed, and the corridor ahead of them light up bright blue. “I left a trail of breadcrumbs.”
Trafalgar helped Beatrice get Dorothy onto her feet. She was still favoring her injured ankle, but for the moment Beatrice’s magic would help her stand. Trafalgar inspected the damage to her coat and slung it over her shoulder.
“It will be a slow trip back to the surface. We’ll have to go one at a time. But I don’t think you’ll complain much as long as it gets you out of here.”
Trafalgar shook her head. “Beggars can’t be choosers. Lead the way, Miss Sek.”
#
It was decided that Dorothy would be hoisted up first, followed by Trafalgar, with Beatrice coming last. They called up that Dorothy was injured, so the women on the surface took their time to ensure a slow and steady ascension for her. Once she was safely out, Beatrice helped Trafalgar into the harness and tugged on the rope to let Araminta know she was ready. They pulled her up, and Beatrice kept an eye on the tunnel in case anyone wandered by before the harness was sent back down for her. The corridor remained empty, although she could hear quiet sobbing from somewhere far away. Finally the harness was dropped a third time, and she hooked herself up to be lifted back to safety.
When she reached the surface, Dorothy was already being examined by the Skylarker’s medic. “Fractured clavicle, sprained ankle, various bumps and bruises. Scrapes on her hands and knees.”
Dorothy said, “You should see the other fellow.”
Araminta smiled and looked at Trafalgar. “What should our next move be?”
“Pair of psychic twins are still in the palace somewhere.”
“Handled,” Beatrice said.
“Ah. Then we should conceal the entrance to the labyrinth again. It’s not as if it was particularly difficult to find, but better to be safe than sloppy.” She looked at the restrained Society members seated in a row on the opposite side of the courtyard. “It would appear you’ve been busy while we were wandering around in circles.”
“Araminta Crook,” Dorothy said, “never one to rest on her laurels.” Her eyes were half-lidded from the mystical pain remedy Beatrice had applied. Araminta told Trafalgar to show her troops where the labyrinth door was so they could block it, and Beatrice helped the medic prepare Dorothy for transfer to the airship.
“I assume everything worked out down there,” Beatrice said. “With the stone...”
Dorothy nodded. “I’ll fill you in once we’re in the air.”
“It killed me to leave you in Rome. You know that, don’t you?” Dorothy nodded and gripped Beatrice’s hand. Beatrice turned and watched Trafalgar leading Araminta’s crew into the palace. “But you swear she had your back?”
“And then some. I owe her my life.”
Beatrice chuckled. “Bit hard to believe, given your history together.”
“Hm. But that’s history for you. Always in the past, while the future is always changing. It can surprise you in the most unexpected ways. I doubt our interactions with Miss Trafalgar will never be the same after this little adventure.”
#
They were delayed in Knossos for most of the day, dealing with the local authorities and the true Archaeological Advisory Committee. The Watershed Society faced official sanctions for their unauthorized activity and taken into custody. Trafalgar informed the supervisor that Orville Weeks was still alive inside the labyrinth. When she started to warn him that his men should be cautious if they chose to go looking for him, the man stopped her with an upraised hand and shook his head.
“We’ve had incidents like this in the past. You are hardly the first to discover the entrance to the labyrinth, and Mr. Weeks is hardly the first to not make the return trip.”
Trafalgar frowned. “So why do you not block the entrance or post warnings?”
He smiled and lifted his shoulders in a shrug, already turning to walk away. “You presume it is our decision. He was here first, after all.”
Trafalgar was stunned at the man’s cavalier attitude, but she supposed he had a point. If someone went through the proper channels to access the labyrinth they would receive warnings. Surely people like the Weeks, who thought they could slip around the rules, deserved to suffer the consequences. Still, the idea of Orville Weeks wandering the maze until he starved or was brutally murdered like his brother didn’t sit well with her. It seemed barbaric to her. Then again she was wholly unmotivated to lead a rescue team back down to drag her kidnapper to safety, so perhaps there was a little savagery in her after all.
The Weeks brothers would have killed her without hesitation, would have made her Felix or Felina Quintel, and they would have used her to start a second Great War. Thousands, perhaps millions would have fallen in their bid for world domination. The more she thought about it, the less concerned she was about leaving him behind. He would only be put into another concrete box with no hope of escape. At least this prison had the benefit of being just.
Trafalgar touched two fingers to her eyebrow, a sign of respect for the beast that existed below the ruins of the palace, and turned to board the airship so Araminta could begin takeoff procedures. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows and painting the ruins in shades of red and gold that hinted at the splendor it had once boasted. With a good headwind they could be in Paris by morning and home in London by the following afternoon.
#
Araminta insisted on having a celebratory dinner once they were in the air. Dorothy ate a bit before begging off to get some rest. The pain had started to come back in her shoulder and she wanted to be sure she got enough rest. Trafalgar and Leola spent some time on their own since their final mission together was over, and their return to London would mean parting ways once and for all. Ivy borrowed some makeup and a uniform so she could join the festivities without controversy - “Have you ever watched an invisible woman eat? Even if the food isn’t visible for the whole process, thank God, it’s still not the most attractive sight.” - and Araminta commented on how attractive she was. It was no surprise to Beatrice, then, when the captain offered the invisible assassin a tour of the ship that somehow lasted the entire evening.
Beatrice went alone to her room, locking the door behind her. For most of the trip she had put disturbing questions out of her mind but with the quiet of the ship she could avoid her mind no longer. She unbuttoned her blouse as she crossed to the en-suite. There was a trifold mirror above a water basin, and she twisted at the waist so she could see her tattoo. The bathroom had electric lights but she left them off as she cupped her hands in front of her chest and formed a simple ball of light. The pale blue energy coursed up her arms, thin glowing lines in the subcutaneous tissue of her forearm and wrist. It glowed through her fingers and formed a perfect sphere in the space between her palms.
The tattoo remained the same, so she focused and pushed more energy out. Her muscles burned, and the glow increased exponentially until the whole room was bathed blue. She felt moisture on her upper lip and saw in the mirror that she had a nosebleed. She ignored it and focused on the tattoo. Her shirt had been burnt in a perfect outline of the tree, and she was certain--
There. The branches of the tree were illuminated. It was subtle but there, difficult to make out given the lighting in the rest of the room. As she watched the glow became brighter. More blood trickled from her other nostril but she ignored it as the light spread downward into the trunk of the tree. The tattoo pulsed with light from the tip of its highest branch to the roots. She tasted blood and watched as the tree took on a steady burning brightness.
She wanted to see how far she could go, but a sudden pressure behind her left eye frightened her enough to stop. She slapped her hands together and sent the energy out in a sloppy wave, causing the entire ship to rock violently for a moment. She knew that the crew would blame turbulence and she was prepared to let them. It would be easier than trying to explain something she herself didn’t understand.
Beatrice ran some cold water and washed away the blood from her lips. When she was finished she pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned forward, unable to look away from her own reflection as she tried to staunch the bleeding. She thought back to the old man from her earliest memories, the man who had dragged her to Paris and left her there with no way of finding a trail back to her past.
What did you do to me, old man? Or where did you find me? What am I? What did you make me into?
Answers, as always, weren’t forthcoming. She checked to make sure the bleeding had stopped, rinsed out the towel, and took herself to bed where she could hopefully find some peaceful slumber.
#
Araminta plotted a more leisurely and far more scenic route back to England since there was no longer a timetable on their journey. It was sunset by the time the city was in view, and Dorothy went to one of the large windows along the gallery to watch as it unfolded before her. She was aware of Trafalgar joining her at the glass but she didn’t acknowledge her arrival until she broke the silence.
“Not one of them knows how close they came,” Trafalgar said. “If the Weeks had gotten their stone, I would be coming back here with another creature in my head. They would attempt a coup, and this world would be once again thrown into bloody conflict. You and I saved them from all of that but no one down there has a clue.”
Dorothy said, “Well, I’m certain a few of them suspect. But you’re right. They don’t know. It’s better that they don’t know. All the foiled plots, all the schemes that never come to fruition. It would drive them mad if they knew how often we existed on the edge of destruction.”
“I don’t agree. I think if they knew how often their lives were at risk, they might appreciate them more. They might appreciate those they love more.”
“Hm. You may have a point there, Miss Trafalgar.” She turned to face her. “I would have died multiple times on this excursion without your help. It’s not easy for me to admit that, but I would be cross with myself if it went unsaid. I owe you my life. Thank you.”
Trafalgar said, “I wouldn’t have been able to stand against the Weeks brothers without you there. I may not have died, per se, but... you saved me from a fate far worse.”
Dorothy turned back to face the window. “It will be hard to consider you a rival after this.”
“But you shall try?”
“No. It’s a waste of time. We’re not enemies any longer, Miss Trafalgar. From now on I shall gladly call you a friend.”
“That would be acceptable to me, Lady Boone.” Dorothy glared at her. “Force of habit. I would be happy to call you friend, Dorothy.”
The Rookery was devoid of cheering celebrants and confetti, their lone receiver being Desmond Tindall. He greeted Dorothy with a kiss on either cheek and shook hands with both Trafalgar and Beatrice. He looked at Dorothy’s sling with true concern.
“What on earth happened to you?”
“We won.” Dorothy linked her other arm with his. “For now, that’s the only thing that matters.”
Ivy came down the gangplank and touched the brim of her hat to Dorothy. “It was a pleasure, Lady Boone. Hopefully the next time we meet we won’t be enemies.”
“Good day to you, Miss Sever.”
Leola and Trafalgar had arranged for their own transportation, and Beatrice followed Dorothy to the car Desmond had rented for them. She helped Dorothy get settled in the backseat so she wouldn’t aggravate her arm, then got behind the wheel and waited for Desmond to climb in beside her before she started the engine. She paused before setting out and looked over her shoulder.
“Any stops you want to make?”
“No,” Dorothy said with a sleepy smile. “Take us home, Trix.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Dorothy reclined against the seat with her hand in her lap, the other held tight against her stomach by the sling, and looked out the window at the airships buzzing back and forth across the Thames. The muddy waters reflected their bumblebee shapes against the golden sunset. People hurried across their paths, and others walked alongside them on the street, blissfully unaware of the madness the Weeks brothers had planned to unleash on the world. Dorothy smiled and closed her eyes, thinking about what Trafalgar had said. Maybe it was good to know the world lived on the brink, maybe being so close to the potential tragedy had turned her into a woman who didn’t let an opportunity slip through her fingers.
Though the ride from the Rookery to Threadneedle Street took less than twenty minutes, Dorothy was already asleep by the time Beatrice pulled up to their front door.
Chapter Nineteen
The sight of Beatrice walking into the courtyard with her face and clothes smeared with blood was enough to convince the majority of Society goons to put down their weapons. They didn’t know what had happened with their leader’s pet psychics, but the fact the bloody woman was still moving forward was proof that fighting wouldn’t do any good. They got onto their knees and laced their hands behind their heads. One man brought up his gun only to have the weapon ripped from his hands by an unseen force and used to pistol-whip him before it was tossed into the woods. That display was enough to make the rest of them surrender.
Once the ground forces had been subdued, Araminta carefully landed the airship on a clear piece of ground north of the palace ruins. Her crew helped secure the prisoners, while the medic tended to Beatrice and Ivy’s wounds. He had a little trouble treating Ivy’s arm seeing as the wound was the only part of her that was visible, but he eventually managed to get a bandage wrapped around her upper arm. When he was finished the circle of gauze hovered in midair like a persistent smoke ring.
Araminta looked into Beatrice’s eyes to check for a concussion. “She must have hit you pretty hard if you’re still dazed.”
“It was my own fault. I used too much energy.” She brushed off the medic’s attempts to check her out. “I’ll be fine. We should concentrate our efforts on finding Dorothy and Trafalgar.”
“They’re still inside somewhere?” Araminta asked, turning to look at the palace ruins.
“Under,” Beatrice said. “When I was... when that woman and I were grappling, I was inside her head. She had just come up to the surface after being underground.” She looked at Leola. “I was hoping you could connect the dots. Trafalgar said you were good at putting the pieces together, making leaps. How should we go about finding them?”
Leola took a deep breath and looked at the area. “Underground. A vast treasure of immeasurable power, somewhere underground.” She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to one side. “It would be very dark.”
Beatrice raised an eyebrow and looked at Araminta.
“Unless,” Leola said, brushing between them to point at three large openings cut into the courtyard. “Unless there was a method of providing light to the underground network.”
The women approached the center ring and peered down into the darkness.
“It seems to be a very long way down.”
Beatrice had already slipped out of her jacket. “Work up a harness, find some rope. A hundred yards should do it, if you have one that long.”
Araminta snapped her fingers at the nearest crewmember and gave him the assignment. She looked at Beatrice and said, “You’re not thinking of going down there alone, are you?”
“It has to be me. I have the best defense.”
Ivy cleared her throat. “Excuse me, hello.”
“Fine, the second-best. But the difference is that if I fall or if the rope is too short, I can float.”
“You can fly?” Leola said.
“I can hover. I can cushion a fall.”
Leola shrugged as if it didn’t make a difference. “Sounds like flight to me.”
Beatrice smirked and let Araminta help her into the harness.
“We’ll stay up here in case there’s any trouble. What else do you need before you go down?”
“Weapons.”
Araminta gave her a pistol, a knife, a flashlight, and after a moment of consideration a first-aid kit. Beatrice put it all in a satchel and slung it over her shoulder. They checked to make sure the rope was secure and then Beatrice moved to stand next to the lip of the opening.
“If it’s too far down for me to shout back up, I’ll tug on the rope three times as a signal to you to reel me in. Try not to get pulled over the side. It’ll be dangerous enough without one of you falling on me.”
Leola rolled her eyes. “We’ll try to be careful. Ready?”
Beatrice turned her back and braced her feet on the lip of the opening. She tested the rope, took a few steadying breaths, and then began walking down into the pit. The walls had been lined with claw bricks, which were sturdy enough to provide a grip for her boots as she descended. The opening was wide enough that she couldn’t reach the opposite side without pushing off and swinging. She was very aware of gravity trying to pull her down, and grateful for the women fighting to keep it from succeeding on the lip of the hole.
“Trix!” Araminta called down. Beatrice looked up and saw the silhouette of her head outlined against the sky. “You have about twenty yards of rope remaining!”
Beatrice looked down and saw the tunnel was about to start narrowing drastically. “It should be enough!” Her voice bounced back to her several times before she saw Araminta nod. Beatrice untied the rope and let herself fall the rest of the way, her feet slipping on the sloped bricks. Instead of forming a cup, there was a narrow opening just wide enough for a person to slip through. She crouched down and saw that it led into a narrow corridor of blue stone.
She slipped out of her harness, dropped the satchel of supplies through the opening, and then got onto her stomach to shimmy through.
#
“I wonder if there’s any connection... labrys being associated with female empowerment and the word labia. Although the axe symbolism is unusual. I should do some reading on that when we get out of here.”
Trafalgar blew a puff of air through her lips. “Yes. You. Should do that.”
“Hm.” Dorothy was seated on the tail of Trafalgar’s jacket while Trafalgar held the arms around her waist to form a sled. She had dragged Dorothy through several twists and turns of the labyrinth, pausing occasionally to shine the torch on the walls to see if there were any directional markings to be found. So far they seemed to be in an entirely different section of the labyrinth than before. Trafalgar shone the light on both sides of the wall, saw nothing, and sighed as she shoved forward.
“Labia is Latin for lip, I believe. But labrys is... Lydian? It’s difficult to say for certain without checking my references. Odd, though, that two civilizations would use the same root for such different ideas. Although a weapon and a maze could be said to describe a vagina as well.”
“Lady Boone!” Trafalgar snapped. “Despite... what you seem to believe. This. Is not easy. And your. Incessant prattling on about genitalia is not. Exactly. Helping the situation.”
Dorothy winced. “My apologies, Miss Trafalgar. Talking helped take my mind off the pain.” Her injured arm was up across her chest, gripping the uninjured shoulder to keep the arm immobile. “I didn’t mean to distract you.”
Trafalgar breathed out sharply and took them around another curve. They could hear noises echoing down the corridor, shouts of alarm or maybe just fear. The Minotaur bellowed from time to time; it was still hunting for the remaining Weeks brother. Dorothy listened for any hint they had gotten closer, but each time she heard evidence of the chase they were farther away.
“It’s ironic,” Dorothy said a moment later. “We’re counting on the fact Orville Weeks won’t be able to escape this maze while at the same time expecting to find a way out of here ourselves.”
“We have the Minotaur on our side.”
“Hmph. I would say--”
“Shush.”
“Sorry. I know you said no talking. The pain...”
Trafalgar dropped the arms of her coat and drew her knife. Her voice dropped to a whisper and she shuttered the torch. “No, shut up. Someone is coming.” She moved to the side of the corridor. A moment later Dorothy could hear footsteps coming from the other direction.
Dorothy whispered, “You can’t just leave me in the middle of the corridor like this!”
“Sh, shut up!”
“I’m a sitting duck!” She began to fumble for her weapon, grunting at the pain that shot through her arm as she did.
Beatrice spoke before she appeared around the corner. “If I were looking to kill you, you’ve both made more than enough noise already.” She turned on her torch and shone it into her face as she stepped into view. “Fortunately, I am here to rescue you.”
Dorothy beamed. “Trix!”
“Miss Sek.” Trafalgar sheathed her knife. “It is very good to see you.”
“And you, Miss Trafalgar. I’m glad to see you well. And the Lady Boone.” She crouched next to Dorothy and cupped her face. “Hello, ma’am. I’ve missed you terribly.”
Dorothy was surprised to find herself teary-eyed. “I’ve missed you as well. What... what happened? There’s blood all over you.”
“You’re one to talk. What happened to you?”
“I was stepped on by the Minotaur.”
Beatrice smiled. “You have all the luck.”
Trafalgar said, “Can you fix it? You seem rather adept at conjuring.”
“Conjuring is one thing. I can’t and won’t use it to fix a bone. It wouldn’t heal properly and lead to trouble down the line. But I can offer you palliative respite from the pain until we have a chance to properly treat the injury. You might feel a little lightheaded and discombobulated, but at least it won’t hurt anymore.”
“Yes, please.”
Beatrice leaned in and kissed Dorothy’s lips. Trafalgar looked away, ostensibly to check for Weeks or the Minotaur. When she looked back Dorothy’s body language was more relaxed. Beatrice opened the first-aid kit she had brought with her and found a sling. She carefully helped Dorothy into it, resting her arm comfortably in the folded cloth before wrapping her ankle with gauze.
“Thank you, Trix.”
“Any time.” She looked up as the air was shaken by another scream, quickly followed by another low roar. “I suppose you’re ready to get out of here.”
Trafalgar said, “Faster would be better, yes.”
Beatrice stood up. “Lucky for you, I know a way.” She held her hand out, fingers splayed, and the corridor ahead of them light up bright blue. “I left a trail of breadcrumbs.”
Trafalgar helped Beatrice get Dorothy onto her feet. She was still favoring her injured ankle, but for the moment Beatrice’s magic would help her stand. Trafalgar inspected the damage to her coat and slung it over her shoulder.
“It will be a slow trip back to the surface. We’ll have to go one at a time. But I don’t think you’ll complain much as long as it gets you out of here.”
Trafalgar shook her head. “Beggars can’t be choosers. Lead the way, Miss Sek.”
#
It was decided that Dorothy would be hoisted up first, followed by Trafalgar, with Beatrice coming last. They called up that Dorothy was injured, so the women on the surface took their time to ensure a slow and steady ascension for her. Once she was safely out, Beatrice helped Trafalgar into the harness and tugged on the rope to let Araminta know she was ready. They pulled her up, and Beatrice kept an eye on the tunnel in case anyone wandered by before the harness was sent back down for her. The corridor remained empty, although she could hear quiet sobbing from somewhere far away. Finally the harness was dropped a third time, and she hooked herself up to be lifted back to safety.
When she reached the surface, Dorothy was already being examined by the Skylarker’s medic. “Fractured clavicle, sprained ankle, various bumps and bruises. Scrapes on her hands and knees.”
Dorothy said, “You should see the other fellow.”
Araminta smiled and looked at Trafalgar. “What should our next move be?”
“Pair of psychic twins are still in the palace somewhere.”
“Handled,” Beatrice said.
“Ah. Then we should conceal the entrance to the labyrinth again. It’s not as if it was particularly difficult to find, but better to be safe than sloppy.” She looked at the restrained Society members seated in a row on the opposite side of the courtyard. “It would appear you’ve been busy while we were wandering around in circles.”
“Araminta Crook,” Dorothy said, “never one to rest on her laurels.” Her eyes were half-lidded from the mystical pain remedy Beatrice had applied. Araminta told Trafalgar to show her troops where the labyrinth door was so they could block it, and Beatrice helped the medic prepare Dorothy for transfer to the airship.
“I assume everything worked out down there,” Beatrice said. “With the stone...”
Dorothy nodded. “I’ll fill you in once we’re in the air.”
“It killed me to leave you in Rome. You know that, don’t you?” Dorothy nodded and gripped Beatrice’s hand. Beatrice turned and watched Trafalgar leading Araminta’s crew into the palace. “But you swear she had your back?”
“And then some. I owe her my life.”
Beatrice chuckled. “Bit hard to believe, given your history together.”
“Hm. But that’s history for you. Always in the past, while the future is always changing. It can surprise you in the most unexpected ways. I doubt our interactions with Miss Trafalgar will never be the same after this little adventure.”
#
They were delayed in Knossos for most of the day, dealing with the local authorities and the true Archaeological Advisory Committee. The Watershed Society faced official sanctions for their unauthorized activity and taken into custody. Trafalgar informed the supervisor that Orville Weeks was still alive inside the labyrinth. When she started to warn him that his men should be cautious if they chose to go looking for him, the man stopped her with an upraised hand and shook his head.
“We’ve had incidents like this in the past. You are hardly the first to discover the entrance to the labyrinth, and Mr. Weeks is hardly the first to not make the return trip.”
Trafalgar frowned. “So why do you not block the entrance or post warnings?”
He smiled and lifted his shoulders in a shrug, already turning to walk away. “You presume it is our decision. He was here first, after all.”
Trafalgar was stunned at the man’s cavalier attitude, but she supposed he had a point. If someone went through the proper channels to access the labyrinth they would receive warnings. Surely people like the Weeks, who thought they could slip around the rules, deserved to suffer the consequences. Still, the idea of Orville Weeks wandering the maze until he starved or was brutally murdered like his brother didn’t sit well with her. It seemed barbaric to her. Then again she was wholly unmotivated to lead a rescue team back down to drag her kidnapper to safety, so perhaps there was a little savagery in her after all.
The Weeks brothers would have killed her without hesitation, would have made her Felix or Felina Quintel, and they would have used her to start a second Great War. Thousands, perhaps millions would have fallen in their bid for world domination. The more she thought about it, the less concerned she was about leaving him behind. He would only be put into another concrete box with no hope of escape. At least this prison had the benefit of being just.
Trafalgar touched two fingers to her eyebrow, a sign of respect for the beast that existed below the ruins of the palace, and turned to board the airship so Araminta could begin takeoff procedures. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows and painting the ruins in shades of red and gold that hinted at the splendor it had once boasted. With a good headwind they could be in Paris by morning and home in London by the following afternoon.
#
Araminta insisted on having a celebratory dinner once they were in the air. Dorothy ate a bit before begging off to get some rest. The pain had started to come back in her shoulder and she wanted to be sure she got enough rest. Trafalgar and Leola spent some time on their own since their final mission together was over, and their return to London would mean parting ways once and for all. Ivy borrowed some makeup and a uniform so she could join the festivities without controversy - “Have you ever watched an invisible woman eat? Even if the food isn’t visible for the whole process, thank God, it’s still not the most attractive sight.” - and Araminta commented on how attractive she was. It was no surprise to Beatrice, then, when the captain offered the invisible assassin a tour of the ship that somehow lasted the entire evening.
Beatrice went alone to her room, locking the door behind her. For most of the trip she had put disturbing questions out of her mind but with the quiet of the ship she could avoid her mind no longer. She unbuttoned her blouse as she crossed to the en-suite. There was a trifold mirror above a water basin, and she twisted at the waist so she could see her tattoo. The bathroom had electric lights but she left them off as she cupped her hands in front of her chest and formed a simple ball of light. The pale blue energy coursed up her arms, thin glowing lines in the subcutaneous tissue of her forearm and wrist. It glowed through her fingers and formed a perfect sphere in the space between her palms.
The tattoo remained the same, so she focused and pushed more energy out. Her muscles burned, and the glow increased exponentially until the whole room was bathed blue. She felt moisture on her upper lip and saw in the mirror that she had a nosebleed. She ignored it and focused on the tattoo. Her shirt had been burnt in a perfect outline of the tree, and she was certain--
There. The branches of the tree were illuminated. It was subtle but there, difficult to make out given the lighting in the rest of the room. As she watched the glow became brighter. More blood trickled from her other nostril but she ignored it as the light spread downward into the trunk of the tree. The tattoo pulsed with light from the tip of its highest branch to the roots. She tasted blood and watched as the tree took on a steady burning brightness.
She wanted to see how far she could go, but a sudden pressure behind her left eye frightened her enough to stop. She slapped her hands together and sent the energy out in a sloppy wave, causing the entire ship to rock violently for a moment. She knew that the crew would blame turbulence and she was prepared to let them. It would be easier than trying to explain something she herself didn’t understand.
Beatrice ran some cold water and washed away the blood from her lips. When she was finished she pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned forward, unable to look away from her own reflection as she tried to staunch the bleeding. She thought back to the old man from her earliest memories, the man who had dragged her to Paris and left her there with no way of finding a trail back to her past.
What did you do to me, old man? Or where did you find me? What am I? What did you make me into?
Answers, as always, weren’t forthcoming. She checked to make sure the bleeding had stopped, rinsed out the towel, and took herself to bed where she could hopefully find some peaceful slumber.
#
Araminta plotted a more leisurely and far more scenic route back to England since there was no longer a timetable on their journey. It was sunset by the time the city was in view, and Dorothy went to one of the large windows along the gallery to watch as it unfolded before her. She was aware of Trafalgar joining her at the glass but she didn’t acknowledge her arrival until she broke the silence.
“Not one of them knows how close they came,” Trafalgar said. “If the Weeks had gotten their stone, I would be coming back here with another creature in my head. They would attempt a coup, and this world would be once again thrown into bloody conflict. You and I saved them from all of that but no one down there has a clue.”
Dorothy said, “Well, I’m certain a few of them suspect. But you’re right. They don’t know. It’s better that they don’t know. All the foiled plots, all the schemes that never come to fruition. It would drive them mad if they knew how often we existed on the edge of destruction.”
“I don’t agree. I think if they knew how often their lives were at risk, they might appreciate them more. They might appreciate those they love more.”
“Hm. You may have a point there, Miss Trafalgar.” She turned to face her. “I would have died multiple times on this excursion without your help. It’s not easy for me to admit that, but I would be cross with myself if it went unsaid. I owe you my life. Thank you.”
Trafalgar said, “I wouldn’t have been able to stand against the Weeks brothers without you there. I may not have died, per se, but... you saved me from a fate far worse.”
Dorothy turned back to face the window. “It will be hard to consider you a rival after this.”
“But you shall try?”
“No. It’s a waste of time. We’re not enemies any longer, Miss Trafalgar. From now on I shall gladly call you a friend.”
“That would be acceptable to me, Lady Boone.” Dorothy glared at her. “Force of habit. I would be happy to call you friend, Dorothy.”
The Rookery was devoid of cheering celebrants and confetti, their lone receiver being Desmond Tindall. He greeted Dorothy with a kiss on either cheek and shook hands with both Trafalgar and Beatrice. He looked at Dorothy’s sling with true concern.
“What on earth happened to you?”
“We won.” Dorothy linked her other arm with his. “For now, that’s the only thing that matters.”
Ivy came down the gangplank and touched the brim of her hat to Dorothy. “It was a pleasure, Lady Boone. Hopefully the next time we meet we won’t be enemies.”
“Good day to you, Miss Sever.”
Leola and Trafalgar had arranged for their own transportation, and Beatrice followed Dorothy to the car Desmond had rented for them. She helped Dorothy get settled in the backseat so she wouldn’t aggravate her arm, then got behind the wheel and waited for Desmond to climb in beside her before she started the engine. She paused before setting out and looked over her shoulder.
“Any stops you want to make?”
“No,” Dorothy said with a sleepy smile. “Take us home, Trix.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Dorothy reclined against the seat with her hand in her lap, the other held tight against her stomach by the sling, and looked out the window at the airships buzzing back and forth across the Thames. The muddy waters reflected their bumblebee shapes against the golden sunset. People hurried across their paths, and others walked alongside them on the street, blissfully unaware of the madness the Weeks brothers had planned to unleash on the world. Dorothy smiled and closed her eyes, thinking about what Trafalgar had said. Maybe it was good to know the world lived on the brink, maybe being so close to the potential tragedy had turned her into a woman who didn’t let an opportunity slip through her fingers.
Though the ride from the Rookery to Threadneedle Street took less than twenty minutes, Dorothy was already asleep by the time Beatrice pulled up to their front door.