Mr. Seldom slipped over to take the wheel and Hink and Rose strode down the ship toward the boiler room in the rear.
Rose’s complexion was rather pink at the cheek, but she was smiling like the sun rose and set on the airship captain.
It was good to see more than infatuation in her gaze. There was love. If Cedar was any judge of a man, Hink returned her feelings more than she realized.
He looked over at Mae, who was pouring hot water into two cups by the stove. His heart caught at her beauty, her strength.
“Cedar,” Mae said. He realized he’d been staring, and looked away to try to sort his wants.
Mate, the beast whispered in his mind.
“Would you like some tea?” she asked.
He strolled over to her. “Tea would be fine,” he said. “Just fine.”
He took a drink and closed his eyes a moment, savoring the sheer warmth and sweet green of it. A man could get so mixed up in unworldly things, in dangerous things, but a simple cup of strong tea brought times more wholesome rushing back to him like memories lost.
“Where will we go once we reach Chicago?” she asked. “What will we do…with everyone?”
“We’ll search for the Holder,” he said. “There are five pieces still missing.”
“Four, Mr. Hunt,” Alun said. “You gathered up the tin bit a few months ago, but we pocketed the iron piece of it back in Hallelujah before we started off east.”
“Don’t recall you telling me that,” he said.
“Consider yourself told,” Alun said cheerfully.
Cedar sighed and Mae touched his hand gently.
“But Wil,” she said. “The Strange. You made a promise to it too.”
“To free the Strange?” He took another drink of tea and studied his brother over the rim of the mug. Wil threw the dice and laughed. The Strange might be in him, but it didn’t appear to be hurting him.
“I’ll uphold my promise to the Strange. Somehow. Just as I’ll find the Holder, and then find a way to break the curse Wil and I carry. For good. After that?” He took another drink. “We’ll settle down. Find a piece of land. Build a home.”
Mae brushed her hand back over her hair, pulling the wayward strands out of the way. She took a sip of tea then smiled softly. “I believe you will do all of those things,” she said. “But it does sound wonderful right now, doesn’t it? A house. A fire. A quiet sort of life.”
“Is that what you want, Mae?” he asked.
“It’s what I’ve always wanted,” she said.
Cedar placed his tea carefully on the edge of the stove. Then he turned to her, close enough he could feel the warmth of her exhale.
“Mae,” he said, uncertain of how to voice the thoughts that were making his heart race. “I’d like to give you that. All of that. A quiet life. A house.”
She searched his face, a small line of confusion knitted between her brows.
Cedar didn’t know if this was the right time, but Wil had been right. If he didn’t enjoy what they had today, while they had it, it could be gone forever.
“Mae Rowen-Lindson,” he said, taking her hand and bending down on one knee. “I don’t have a ring. All I have to offer you is my heart. Will you do me the honor of being my wife? Will you marry me?”
Mae’s eyes went very wide. She held still, not breathing, not blinking. And for those slim, crushing moments, his world faded away, replaced only by her. Mae. His heart. His love.
Mate.
“Yes,” she said in a rush. “Yes, of course. Yes, I will.”
Cedar grinned and surged up onto his feet. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her long and full while Wil and the others clapped and cheered.
This, he thought, this woman, was his family. No matter where their path took them, no matter what stood in their way, no matter how long they had, they would face it together.
Mate, the beast whispered again.
Yes, Cedar thought. She was his mate—and his love.
Epilogue
The airship Tin Swift took to the sky, but it was not the only wings upon the air. A tiny clockwork dragonfly made of gold with crystal wings fluttered down along the icy river and landed, gently, on Mayor Vosbrough’s chest.
The mayor was dead. Unbreathing.
It was a perfect state for the Strange who waited just inside the forest’s edge. He had been looking for the dragonfly, the rarest device of all, worth an emperor’s ransom.
And now the dragonfly was here, resting on that dead man, wings pumping like the softest heartbeat.
An invitation?
Yes.
The Strange slipped through the trees, nothing but a shadow of a man. But if he wore a shape of his choosing, he would be tall, with a top hat to hide his eyes, scarves to cover his jagged teeth, and needles at the tips of each finger.
This dead man was not the shape of his choosing. But it would do. It would do nicely.
The Strange hovered above the dead man. Then, in the manner only his kind could accomplish, he slipped into that flesh and bone like a man donning a winter coat. He sat the body up, and swiveled his head while he dug through the knowledge left inside it.
This body was an important man. A powerful man. Yes, yes. That was pleasing.
He picked at the cuff of the man’s coat, freeing a thread from the seam. Then he used that thread to lash the dragonfly down into the hole in the man’s chest, trapping it tight so that the heart would beat and the lungs would fill. He would do a finer job of caging the rare clockwork device when he found a proper needle, a proper thread, and perhaps a drop of glim.
For now, he needed to know the name of the powerful man he had become, for names carried their own power.
Ah…Vosbrough. Killian Vosbrough. A familiar name. Not as fine as his own—Mr. Shunt—but it was fine enough.
He rose to his feet, far too graceful for a dead man. But then, he hadn’t been dead.
The Holder had been here, or a piece of it at least. It had been stolen by the hunter. He had watched that happen, seen it all from the shadows. He had watched the hunter win. Again.
Rage filled him. Rage and revenge.
But then Mr. Shunt smiled. The hunter’s small victory was no matter. Mr. Shunt was a new man now. And he had all the time he desired and all the power he needed to kill Cedar Hunt, and destroy the world.
About the Author
Devon Monk has one husband, two sons, and a dog named Mojo. She writes the Allie Beckstrom urban fantasy series and the Age of Steam steampunk series, knits silly things, and lives in Oregon.
CONNECT ONLINE
www.devonmonk.com
THE ALLIE BECKSTROM SERIES
Magic to the Bone
Magic in the Blood
Magic in the Shadows
Magic on the Storm
Magic at the Gate
Magic on the Hunt
Magic on the Line
Magic Without Mercy
Magic for a Price
THE AGE OF STEAM
Dead Iron
Tin Swift
Cold Copper