"Slow down! You'll kill us both!

" Brier cried, her fingers pressed deep into her

sister's sides.

Adrenaline spiked Harlow Morgan's blood as she sped through London's darkened
streets. Several feet off the ground, she soared forward on her dirty green hover-
cycle. Wind thrashed through her thick red hair and stung her skin. The engine and
her heart raced in time. With her sister gripping from behind, she shifted her body
from side to side, swerving past the steam cars littering the cobblestone
thoroughfare.

Flanked by mammoth industrial buildings and a sea of umbrella wielding pedestrians,

the streets narrowed, and the gaps between cars thinned out. Wafts of kerosene
drifted from gas-lamps lighting the obstacle course ahead, overpowering the scent
of oncoming rain. Each turn hailed a chorus of beeps and honks, praising her
maneuvering skills.

Right before the street widened, a brick red steam bus angled to turn in front of
her. Harlow leaned over her handlebars, tucked her legs in tight, and squeezed
through the closing gap between the bus and a three-wheeled carriage.

"Har!" Brier shouted, "You nearly hit that one!"

Harlow glanced back at the steam bus, the space between its steam puffing engine
and the carriage now completely gone. "Did not. Had plenty of room."

"Had plenty of--Any closer and I'd lose my head under their wheels!"

"Only if you fell off. Hold on, Thorns. Next corner's real tricky."

Brier's grasp constricted around Harlow's waist. "Don't call me that!" she cried,
"especially when my life's in your hands and--"

Harlow twisted the accelerator, drowning out Brier's complaints with the roar of
the rear fan. Sheer exhilaration sent chills down her spine. She checked her
speedometer one more time.

Faster. Have to go faster.

She waited until the last possible second, tapped the brakes enough to make the
turn, and banked right. The momentum carried the back of the bike off to the left.
She twisted the handle bars quickly, stabilizing the craft before veering out of
control.

But victory was short-lived. As she neared the end of the street, a massive brick
building loomed only seconds away. Her room for error on the next corner dropped to
nothing. This was it. Time to see what she was made of. She squinted behind the
glass of her scarlet lensed riding goggles. Determined. Focused.

"Har?" Brier's finger shook beside Harlow's cheek. "Har!"

"I see it."

Their only escape, the small street hidden amid the buildings, seemed to jet out of
nowhere. Within feet of slamming into the brick wall, Harlow dropped her body to
the left, forcing Brier down with her. The bike's underbelly shot up nearly
parallel to the buildings. Swinging around the corner, she was met with a group of
children rolling metal hoops through puddles. Her heart pounded. She fought against
gravity to twist the bike upright. Air from the fans collided once more with the
gravel below, lifting her above their gasping heads.

She let out her tension in a satisfied sigh, her cheeks burning from the smile
stretched across her face. From her head to her toes, she felt alive. She glanced
back to savor her sister's assured state of awe, but was met with Brier's fiery
glare instead.

"That's it! Take me home," her sister said. "I want off this deathtrap."

"Oh, come on, I made that turn perfectly. Just a few more tries and I'll make the
other ones just as--"

"No! No more tries. Take me home now."

Harlow felt her teeth clench. "Fine."

Just like her twin to foul up her fun. Queen of killjoys. She turned at the end of
the street, toward Eastern Quadrant border and the tall houses swallowed up by the
night sky.

Brier loosened her death grip around Harlow' waist when the hover-cycle slowed.
"Better. Crikey. Next time I have to go to the ribbon store, I'll walk--no matter
how much you beg."

Harlow rolled her eyes. "I didn't beg."

"No? So when I said I'm off to get some new hair ribbons for First Day, you didn't
say please, please, let me take you?" Brier mimicked.

Harlow laughed. Brier's imitations made everyone sound like a deep chested old man.

"Oh yeah, that's how I said it. Except more like 'I need more practice for the
hedge race tomorrow. I'll take you if you give me some pointers.' Which, by the
way, you haven't."

"Not sure what you mean by pointers, but here's one. Don't kill yourself. Better
yet, that race is silly. If they name you flight captain tomorrow, don't do it.
Simple."

Harlow shook her head. "You don't get it, Bri. The hedge race is a rite of passage.
Every flight captain does it. Lose the race, lose respect. Without respect, leading
people on an airship is right near impossible. I have to do it. Now come on, you're
a Smith. Tell me what I can do better."

"I'm not a full Smith yet. We're working on small gadgets this term, not flying
vehicles of death. Why don't you ask Father?"

Oh right, Father. The great Smith-Consummate himself. Harlow cringed. Might as well
kick a sleeping bear. No one hated being disturbed more than Percival Morgan. The
man practically breathed his work. From slaving away over endless creations in his
smithy to presiding in his high level government seat, he definitely didn't rank a
school race anywhere on his worth-bothering-me scale.
"And what, get my head bit off?" she jabbed. "No thank you."

"He's not that bad," said Brier. "Just ask. He'll help."

"So says his prodigy daughter. Don't know if you've noticed, but he gets all testy
when I ask him questions. Like he knows I won't understand anything he spits out
before he opens his mouth."

The white stucco of their terraced house came into
row of connected homes before reaching their house
stop beside the tall cherry tree that grew next to
ground with her tiptoes, she flipped the switch by
The machine clicked and buzzed, rotating the front
like bicycle tires on the street.
view. Harlow drove past the long
on the corner. She slowed to a
her bedroom window. Touching the
the hover-cycle's handle bars.
and rear fans until they rested

The engine died with a puff of steam and Brier immediately jumped off, unstrapping
her black metal helmet. "Ugh," she grunted, running her fingers through her long,
wavy brown hair. "It'll be a miracle if I survive the ride with you tomorrow."
Taking a few steps to the entryway and opening the wrought iron gate, she looked
back at Harlow, who hadn't moved from the bike. "What are you doing?" she asked
with a tilt of her head.

Harlow turned her gaze to the emptying dark street ahead. "Think I'll give it a few
more laps." Even without Brier's help, she had to try again. Sloppy didn't begin to
describe half those turns. Maybe if she waited a bit longer before decelerating at
the curves, she'd shave off some time and--

Brier snapped her fingers, shaking Harlow from her thoughts. "Are you out of your
mind? Father said he'd be home in, what-" She pulled out a chain from beneath her
blouse and flipped open the small gold watch around her neck. "A quarter of an
hour. He'll be livid if you're not here."

"That's plenty of time. I'll make it back."

"You'd better. I'm tired of making up stories for you."

White puffs of smoke bellowed from the back of the bike as Harlow turned the hover-
cycle back on. The fans hummed. The blades spun. In seconds, her feet left the
ground.

"Since when did I tell you to make up stories for me?" she asked.

Brier crossed her arms and lifted one brow.

"Doesn't matter," Harlow said, waving her hand before Brier could answer, "I'll
beat him home."

With that she took off, leaving Brier, and soon London's Eastern Quadrant, in her
wake. Street after street, she felt her turns tighten. After riding all day, the
city maze became easier to navigate.

Huh, maybe I won't foul it up after all. Then again, the streets had landmarks and
names that told them apart. It was easy to get her bearings here. In the hedge
maze, everything looked the same-tall, bushy, and green.

If only she could practice on the school grounds, then she'd know for sure if she
were ready. But with the school closed for summer holiday she'd only be able to get
a look at the hedge.
A look. Of course! The thought put a smile on her face and she rounded the bend
toward Featherington Academy. She'd seen the inside of the maze a few times, but
never the top.

She arrived mere minutes later, staring up at the four story structure. Even in the
dark, the academy stood with intimidation and arrogance seeping from its brown
bricks. And nothing said Featherington pride more than the Smith alumni statues
lining its front gate.

Veering around statues, she came to the north side of the school. She pulled the
handlebars toward her, lifting the hover-cycle a few feet higher and saw it. At the
far end of the garden, illuminated by lampposts and the moon, the maze stood like a
massive leafy wall. A wall she still couldn't see over at this height. Giving the
bike a little more thrust, she caught a glimpse of the maze's roof with its windy
paths. Just a bit more--

Bong!

What in the--

Bong!

Startled, she jolted back and accidentally knocked the kill switch, ceasing the
cycle's flight. Her stomach lurched at the sudden drop. In a heartbeat, she
reacted, flipping the switch and yanking the bars back. The rear fan scrapped the
pavement with an ear piercing crunch of metal before lifting off the ground.

Bong!

She looked up. The sound came from Featherington's clock tower.

Ten o'clock?

Frantic, she rubbed the dirt smudge from the small clock on the bike. Its tiny
hands confirmed her fear. Where had the time gone? Father would have her head, or
at least give her the lecture she had both memorized and dreaded since primary
school.

Speeding into the East Quadrant, sweat fell from her brow. It seemed like she
couldn't help but disappoint the man. But maybe, just maybe, she'd beat him home
tonight-when he was supposed to be there at ten, yeah right. She slammed her fists
on her handlebars and turned onto her street. The moment she saw her house, she
felt the blood drain from her face.

Father's carriage. Lovely.

The light in her third story bedroom was still off though. Hopefully, he had just
arrived. She parked the hover-cycle a few houses down, so it couldn't be heard,
then took off on foot. The tree-her only hope.

Quickly and quietly, she snuck past the rows of houses then slowed, reaching her
own. Stepping behind Father's carriage, she avoided the light shining through his
study window. But when she peaked through the glass, her pulse raced. In the glow
of the study, Father paced furiously. With a scowl on his face, he came to the
window, threw off his top hat, and yanked the curtains shut.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and for a second imagined what he'd do to her.
Ground her for a week. A month. Take away her hover-cycle . . . again. She
shuddered at the thought. Or maybe he had a bad day. Surely that was it. Giving in
to hope, she made for the tree.

The moment she touched the familiar bark, her limbs seemed to move on their own,
navigating up the branches out of habit. Midway up the tree, she inched forward on
the thick branch that grew right above her bedroom. At least she left the window
open. The jump from the tree to the ledge terrified her enough without having to
worry about opening the thing once she got there.

With a tight grip on the tree, she lowered herself down until she hung by her arms.
Stretching her toes to the windowsill, she met nothing but air. Cursed with a four
foot ten inch frame, she let out a sigh. Since turning fifteen, she had grown two
whole centimeters, passing Brier up as the tall twin. Not that it did her any good
now. She still had to jump.

Oh well, here goes.

She swung her lower half, gathered momentum, and then let go of the branch. The
brief freeing sense of flight quickly turned to panic. Her feet slammed on the
ledge and her shoulders fell backward. Gravity yanked her down, and she fumbled for
the curtains, grabbing them right before her foot slipped.

Regaining her footing, she hugged the coarse fabric against her chest. Made it.
Worse attempt for sure, but still, surviving a three story fall, and an even worse
lecture, wasn't anything to sniff at.

Separating the curtains, she slipped into the darkness of her room and sat on the
inside ledge of her window. She couldn't see a thing, but didn't need sight to get
in her bed. Right beneath the high window sat her cluttered chest of drawers. Just
a hop down from there to the floor then she'd crawl in her bed, scot free. Father
never had to be the wiser.

She lowered her right foot, moving it about to clear some room but didn't touch a
thing. Odd. She swore that big annoying cuckoo clock Father gave her was right by
the window. Over and over last term he insisted she use the blasted thing, probably
due to the giant pile of late slips she'd collected. But its bird's shrill drove
her insane, so she turned the clock off and put it to better use-judging the
distance between the window and her chest of drawers. Only, she couldn't feel it.
Maybe she just had to stretch a bit further. She extended her leg, slipped from the
windowsill, and fell forward.

Landing on the floor and twisting her ankle.

Pain shot up her leg. "Oww! Holy-" She covered her mouth, but it was too late. The
gas lamp in her room flicked on, burning her vision. She briefly shielded her eyes
before looking up to see Father standing over her with the clock in his hand.

He gave her a disappointed huff then set the clock on the chest of drawers he
must've moved several feet from the window. After he messed with a few gears on its
backside, her cuckoo clock hummed to life, and he faced it forward.

Without asking where she'd been, if she knew what time it was, or heavens, if she
were all right, he stepped past her and moved to the door.

"I hope you'll use that clock of yours this time," he said, more as a command than
a wish. "And Harlow, tomorrow isn't just First Day for you. It's First Day for the
daughter of the Smith-Consummate. With all this hysteria over sorcerers invading
the Smokestack, the Council is breathing down my neck to get results. Everyone in
this city is itching for an excuse to remove me from my post. They're watching me,
Harlow. And they're watching my daughters. Do not repeat your rash behavior
tomorrow."

As he slammed the door shut, she wiped away the tear trickling down her cheek-a
tear surely brought on by the pain in her leg. Putting her weight on her left leg
to stand,she caught a look at her right ankle and her heart stopped. In mere
seconds, her ankle had blown up like a blimp, and with it so had her chances of
winning the hedge race.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter in Harlow's adventure. If
you liked what you've read, please let me know by voting. Also, I'd love to hear
what you think. Let's talk in the comments.

The squeal of a mechanical bird startled Harlow from blessed sleep. She pressed her
hands tightly against her ears. Pressure built between her palms. A low pitched hum
muffled the sounds around her. Every sound, that is, but the one she wanted to
escape.

"Cuckoo! Cuckoo!"

The dreadful shrill of the cuckoo clock sent a chill down her spine. With each
shriek, her body jerked.

"Cuckoo! Cuckoo!"

She turned on her side to shut it off, but Father had moved her chest of drawers
clear across the room. Looking around for something to throw at the bird, she
spotted her sister's pocket screwdriver on her nightstand and smiled.

Good riddance, clock of evil.

With a stretch of her fingers, she grabbed the metal tool and reared back for the
throw. But as her arm flung forward, a loud knock at her door gave her such a start
she nearly dropped the screwdriver right on her skull.

"Come on, Har! Can't you hear that clock of yours?" called Brier from the other
side of her bedroom door. "The entire house can. Why'd you start using it again?
Turn it off, will you?" Several loud thuds followed as Brier plodded away.

No use pretending she didn't hear the wake-up call. Harlow sat up as the tiny black
bird ended its cries of terror and returned to its lair.

To think, only a few hours ago she could hardly wait for First Day. She'd even
spent the afternoon picking out the perfect tweed riding trousers and hung them
over her bedpost. But the excruciating pain in her ankle kept her up all night with
the fear of either losing the race or disappointing Father by staying home.

Pulling the sheets back, she saw her swollen flesh sticking out from her black
leather ankle boot and slumped over. She'd decided to sleep in the shoe last night,
afraid she'd be unable to tie the laces over her puffy foot otherwise.

Lot of good that did. Still looks like a blimp.

She swung her legs off her bed. The swelling had gone down some. Surely the pain
had too. Pressing her lips, she stood. But the instant she put weight on both feet,
something like ten thousand invisible needles seemed to stab her leg at once. She
collapsed with a loud thud.

Grabbing her ankle, she gritted her teeth. Not happening. Not happening. The pain
soon subsided, and her arms dropped in defeat.

"What was that?" Brier threw open the squeaky door.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? How daft do you think I--" Brier paused. "Har, Where are you?"

"On the floor. Behind the bed." Harlow sighed, turning her gaze to the ceiling.

Brier's footsteps made several crunching noises as she entered the room. "There's
my screwdriver. I've been looking everywhere." She appeared around the bed and
picked up the tool. Then, carefully stepping over the mess on the floor, she bent
at her waist over Harlow. Her long curled brown hair fell past her shoulders from
her freshly made pigtails. Harlow pushed the ratty red hair from her own face as
her sickeningly beautiful sister gazed down at her.

"Ahh, I see, so you're giving up humanity to become one with your mess."

"You're a riot Bri. No. I fell trying to stand."

Brier laughed. "Okay, I know you're clumsy and all, but really, Har?"

Harlow rolled her eyes. "I'm not that clumsy. Father moved my chest of drawers this
time," she said. Sitting up, she pointed to her ankle. "I fell from the window and
sprained it last night."

Brier's eyes widened. "Blimey, Harlow! It's purple!"

"I know."

"Even if you are flight captain, you can't ride in the race today."

"I know."

"But you can't stay home either. Father will have your head."

"Thanks, Thorns. You know, for a super genius, you sure love stating the obvious."

Ignoring her, Brier moved closer to Harlow's ankle, leaning in. "I hope it isn't
broken. You sure you can't stand?"

Harlow shrugged. "Don't know. Only tried once. Here, help me up."

As Brier stood and lowered her hand, Harlow took it, pulled herself up, and put
weight on her left foot then slowly on her right. Though the ankle still throbbed,
it hurt much less and she didn't fall over.

"Well, that's a good sign," said Brier. "I don't think you could stand if it was
broken."

Harlow smiled. "So I'm good to race then."

"Uh, didn't say that. You might be able to hobble your way through class, but don't
you use that foot to brake? Like it or not, racing's out."

Harlow's smile vanished as she limped toward her dressing table. Pulling out the
drawer and reaching for her white blouse, she paused. "Wait a minute. Hey, doesn't
Father say something like 'when there's a problem, you Smiths have to fix it', or
something?"

Brier crossed her arms. "Or something. What's your point?"

"Well, you're a Smith, and I have a problem."

"You know he means mechanical problems, right?"

Harlow waved her hand dismissively. "Yeah sure, but come on, Bri, I need your help.
They don't force Smiths to take a medical safety class for machines." She raised
her eyebrows and stuck out her lower lip. "Please. For your best twin sister in the
whole world?"

Brier's annoyance puffed out in a grunt. "Fine, let me see it," she said, making
her way through the mess.

Harlow's grin returned, and she stuck out her foot.

"I can't believe you still have your shoe on," said Brier. "It's going to hurt like
crazy when you take it off. But I don't think you'd get it back on if I wrapped
your ankle now. And since you're going to race no matter what I tell you, might as
well take the edge off. I've seen where Father keeps his willow bark tea. I'll make
you a couple cups. It won't fix you, but it's the best I can do."

It didn't surprise Harlow that Brier knew where Father kept the powerful medicine.
As his protégé, she seemed to know where everything of his was. But remembering how
well the willow bark had worked when she broke her arm two years ago, Harlow
snapped her fingers at the idea. "Brilliant, Bri. Knew you'd help."

"Don't thank me yet," Brier said as she stepped out the door. "If you do get to
race, you're going to wish you'd stayed in bed."

As usual, Brier made good on her word, getting Harlow the tea by pillaging Father's
stash without being seen. The girl had an uncanny knack for stealth. Yet another
skill bestowed unevenly on her sister at birth. At least Brier used her powers for
good. Father never had to know about the injury. Harlow could still go to school--
make him proud on First Day.

She downed the last bit of tea before setting it on a table and attempting the
first step of the foyer's staircase. Sticking out her healthy leg first, she moved
forward and put all her weight down. No problem. She touched her injured foot to
the next step. Pain shot up like fire through her limb. She clung the railing with
all her might. Come on, you blasted medicine. Kick in. Kick in.

"Ahh there you are." Father's voice boomed up the staircase, hitting her like a
steam-train at full speed.

In a jolt of panic, she released the railing enough to fake a casual stance.

"I'm glad to see you've taken my words to heart." Dressed in his finest navy
Magnitude officer uniform, he pulled out the brass plated watch from his trousers
and flipped it open. "And with time to spare. That's got to be a record." He
flipped the watch shut and adjusted his top hat. "Your sister is waiting for you
outside. You may take your hover-cycle, as I'll be riding in the Magnitude's
carriage. Though that doesn't excuse you to dawdle about on the way. I've made you
and Brier a detailed agenda for today on the table by the front door. Don't forget
it. And Harlow, remember, you are a Morgan. A Morgan wise, and a Morgan proud. You
are but one in a lineage forged by the fires of struggle and--"

Blimey, not the family tree lecture. Harlow took the remaining stairs as quickly as
possible, forcing a blank expression to cover the agony her ankle gave her. The
longer she stayed still, the longer the lecture went on. She made it to the end of
the staircase by the time both Great-Grandfather Eustace invented the steam-powered
wheelbarrow, and a Magnitude official came to end Father's rant.

"Make us proud," he said and kissed her on the top of her head before leaving the
house.

Harlow slumped. She hobbled to her jacket on the rack by the door. Pulling it off,
she slid the green leather over her arms and stepped outside. Maybe one day he'd
ask her to make him proud. But for now, not fouling up the family name was the best
she could hope for.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the academy. The Magnitude carriage Father came
in was parked on the corner.

He should be in the lower garden by now preparing his speech.

Harlow turned off her hover-cycle right outside Featherington's gate. The willow
bark tea took a while to kick in, but when it did, it worked wonders. Her ride to
Featherington hadn't been nearly as terrible as she thought it might. Her ankle
definitely made braking uncomfortable, and she hadn't flown fast or made any sharp
turns, but maybe she could win this race.

"We're alive. I'll give you that," said Brier, as she got off the cycle behind
Harlow. "A little late, but alive."

"It's not my fault we're late," Harlow said, removing her riding goggles. "You're
the one who couldn't decide if you'd ride with me or walk." She stepped off the
bike and wheeled it through the front gate.

Brier looked back at her. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Putting it in the maze with the others."

"Seriously? Fine. But get on with it. I want good seats this year."

Around the first bend of the maze Harlow found the other potential captains' bikes
leaning against the hedge. She added hers to the lot and limped out to meet Brier.

Under a covering of knotty tree branches, they followed the masses of people making
their way towards the lower garden for First Remarks. Nearly every seat in the
returning year students' section had a horrible view. So it didn't really matter
where they sat. Harlow trailed Brier slowly, careful not to strain her ankle. But
when she spotted the blonde girl in the dark pink corset waving at her ahead, she
grabbed Brier's arm and took the lead.

"Carolina! Felix!" Harlow cried, yanking Brier toward her two friends.
Carolina rose from her small wooden chair and tapped her brother's arm. "Harlow!"
she hollered. "Just like you to be wicked late. Come on. We saved you and Brier
prime spots!"

"We're not that late," Brier mumbled as they moved down the aisle and through the
crowd. "Har, do we have to sit over there? The other side has a better view and . .
. and it's in the grass not the dirt. What if it rains? I've got my new spatterdash
boots on today. That side's going to get all swampy."

"Swampy? You're kidding. Won't you be in the smithy later on? Pretty sure that
place is way dirtier than the garden."

"No. We're never in the smithy on First Day. Besides, I never get to wear these
kinds of clothes." Brier tugged on her blue laced blouse for emphasis. "It's a once
a term opportunity. Oh look, there's two seats open right there."

"Don't be ridiculous, Bri. The whole place will get swampy if it rains." Harlow
turned her head to look at her sister and stopped in her tracks. "Oh, I know what's
really going on. It's not your shoes you're worried about." She pushed her index
finger on Brier's nose. "You're just too embarrassed to sit by Feeelix."

Brier's entire face turned a bright shade of crimson. She brushed Harlow's hand
away. "That's not it at all! I just . . . I really can't see from over there and-"

"You can't see from where, Brier, the front? I knew it. Can't hide anything from
these hawk eyes." Harlow exclaimed, pointing two fingers at her jade green eyes.
"Bet you've fancied Felix since last winter!"

Brier threw her hands over Harlow's mouth. "Shushhh! Don't be so loud. You'll
spread rumors."

"Harlow, Brier, hurry up! It's starting soon!" shouted Carolina.

"Alright," said Brier, letting go of Harlow's mouth. "We'll sit by Carolina and
Felix Goodwin. It doesn't bother me." She side stepped Harlow to take the lead.

Guess she's not going to complain about her boots now that I've discovered the
truth.

When they reached the front of the white chaired section, Felix stood up to let
them pass. "Good day, you two," he said. Removing his grey bowler hat, he revealed
a thick mane of sandy blond hair that brushed his eyelashes as it faded to a short
cut near his neckline. "Ready for a glorious First Day at Featherington? Bet it'll
be smashing."

Carolina shook her head. "He keeps saying something spectacular's going to happen.
Got me up at the crack of dawn to save these seats," she said, smacking her chair.
"The crack of dawn! I had a good two and a half hours of beauty sleep left, but did
he care? Not a wit. Sneaked into my room, yanked my blanket off my freezing body,
and ran down the hall, laughing like a crazy man."

"Did nothing of the sort," snickered Felix.

Carolina stuck her tongue out at him, as Harlow and Brier moved past the Goodwins
to sit in the only two empty seats.

"Spectacular, huh?" Harlow asked skeptically. Besides the hedge race, nothing
spectacular ever happened on First Day. "Anything exciting happen?"
"No such luck," said Carolina. "Love to at least tell you about our holiday, but
being stuffed in a cottage with Mr. Fish-all-day-with-Daddy here isn't anything to
write home about. No, First Day's not going any better so far. We've been sitting
here for hours, bored out of our minds. And Felix's lame jokes aren't helping."

"My jokes aren't lame," he said. Carolina and Harlow both gave him a cynical look
and he frowned, sinking back in his chair. "I'd like to see you come up with better
material."

"A dead chicken in the street could come up with better material," Carolina said
with a smirk. "Anyways, the only thing worth mentioning happened a few minutes
ago." She pointed at the first year student's section in front of them. "See that
woman closing her red parasol over there, third row to the right?"

The lower half of Featherington's garden sloped downward toward the side of the
school. The newer students sat in the black chairs filling the distance between the
returning year students and the stage. Assemblies held in the massive garden with
the entire academy in attendance tended to make spotting anyone in the crowd next
to impossible. But not for Harlow.

"You mean the lady who looks like a teacher? Yeah, I see her."

"Knew you would." Carolina gave her a pat on the back. "I had to borrow Felix's
binoculars. I didn't think we needed them, but he insisted."

"Too right," said Felix. "Told her something spectacular would happen today. But
did she believe her intelligent, insightful older brother? No."

Carolina rolled her eyes dramatically. "Well, that woman is the new orchestra
director. Marion came here a little bit ago and told me they got rid of Mr.
Scottsdale. Thought you'd like to know, Har, since he was so rotten to you last
year."

Rotten didn't begin to describe the man. Mr. Scottsdale couldn't control his temper
and took it out on the poor souls in his class. Harlow was certain he aimed the
brunt of his anger at her. Sure, she got off tempo every now and again, but what
cause was that to throw a baton at her in the middle of her cello concerto?

"That is a relief. Featherington picked a real winner with Mr. Short Fuse."

"Well, you don't have to worry about him anymore," said Carolina.

"So, what's her name?"

Carolina scratched beneath her mini top hat barrette. "Um . . . I think it is Miss
Yumi Hime . . . Humar . . . drat! I can't remember how to pronounce it."

"It's Himura," Felix corrected.

"Right, Miss Himura."

"What an odd name," said Brier. "Felix, can I see your binoculars?" He nodded and
handed them to her. "What nationality is she? I've never seen anyone dressed like
that."

"Well," Carolina said, sticking her chin up and twirling her golden hair between
her fingers. "Marion said she heard Josephine say she's from China."

"Ha," exclaimed Felix, "that goes to show you shouldn't listen to Marion or
Josephine." He stretched his arm past his sister. "Bri?" Brier lowered the
binoculars from her eyes and put them in his hands. "Himura is a Japanese name.
She's from Japan."

Harlow looked at him strangely. "Japan? Are you off your rocker? No one's been
allowed to leave Japan since before the Great War. Just because she has a Japanese
name doesn't mean she's from Japan. She could be of Japanese descent from China
like Carolina said."

"No. She's from Japan. Trust me. I have more reliable sources than two chits
nattering on about what they aren't privy to," he said, rubbing the lime green
lenses of his binoculars before hanging them back around his neck.

"Oh, do you now? And who might they be?" Carolina demanded.

"Sorry little sis. That's not for you to know."

She crossed her arms and stuck out her lower lip in a pout. "Then I bet you can
tell us how she miraculously escaped Japan to become head of music at
Featherington."

He put his hands behind his head and leaned back.

"Thought you'd never ask. Seems the Magnitude decided to trade with the Japanese in
return for selected freedoms. Heard they kept it quiet to make sure the deal went
through. But I bet they'll have to announce it today, seeing as one of the teaching
staff is Japanese."

"That's so strange," Harlow said. "If I were suddenly allowed to leave a country
sealed away for hundreds of years, I don't think I'd want to teach orchestra at a
London academy."

"Who knows why they do anything," Carolina said, while looking in her flip mirror
to adjust her bright red lipstick. "I wouldn't be surprised if they all went
completely mad in that country." Tossing her makeup in her bag, she put her hand on
Harlow's shoulder. "Don't worry. Miss Himura can't be worse than Mr. Short Fuse."

"I hope not." Harlow had enough of crazy professors. "Who are the people sitting
behind her? They look Japanese too."

"How you can see anyone's features from here is amazing." Felix returned his
binoculars to his eyes. "Ahh, there we go. They must be the transfer students she
came with."

Harlow squinted to get a closer look, intrigued. Wonder what it's like being cut
off from the outside world your whole life? I'm sure they think we're the odd ones.
What are they wearing anyway?

Suddenly, one of the taller boys turned his head and looked directly at her. Her
body flinched, but she didn't tear her gaze away. His strong dark features
instantly drew her in. She'd never seen anyone like him before. Fascinating.
Striking. Exotic. The words fit, but didn't explain why she couldn't stop gawking
at him. Gawking? Blimey! Her eyes widened, and she looked away. He couldn't have
seen me. Not from this distance. Curiosity was one thing, but she didn't want to
look like a prying busybody.

Carolina yawned loudly. "Let's talk about something else, please." She elbowed
Harlow in the arm. "So. . . How'd your aviation exams go? Think you'll make flight
captain?"
Oh right, flight captain. An awful anxious feeling twisted in Harlow's gut. "I
don't know. Feel like I aced the written part and the flight trials. But I'm sure
Lucius Wellington did too. I wonder if the bloke with the captain's badge is
sitting by him right now."

Brier shook her head. "I can't believe flight class still holds that pointless
tradition. Breaking into the school just to read the aviation exam's results is a
brilliant idea," she said sarcastically. "And for what? So they can race around a
hedge maze before class? What'll that prove? Honestly, if the engineers have that
much gall to trespass, they should at least give the badge to the flight captain
themselves. Not have some random person do it for them."

Harlow rolled her eyes and glared at her sister. "If they did it that way, I'd know
I was captain the second an engineer plopped down next to me. It's supposed to be a
surprise, Bri." She tapped her fingers in her lap. "Then again, if I knew, I
wouldn't be so nervous."

"Would it help if I told you I know who's going to race against the flight
captain?" asked Carolina with a grin.

Harlow blinked. "You do? How?"

"Although some people think I'm not well informed, I saw Meriwether Sutton go
toward the southern entrance of the hedge this morning with a red flag and a pole
in his hands. Probably to set up. Ugh, I can't believe you'll have to go in there
with him," she said with a shudder.

"Mouse?" Harlow gaped, a little more on edge than before. "You're telling me the
race is against Mouse?" Though not a pilot, Meriwether, or Mouse as most people
called him, certainly knew how to fly a hover-cycle. Even the best aviator had to
be on top of their game against him.

Just then, everyone around them hushed as school officials took their seats on the
stage. Father walked out on the center platform, taking hold of the podium.
"Welcome everyone to another promising year at Featherington School of Science and
Advancement," he declared.

The crowd applauded.

"We pride ourselves in the growing of young minds to further our great scientific
community in achievements both large and small. As many of you may know,
Featherington Academy holds itself to the highest standards of quality in teachers,
curriculum, and educational resources. This year is on course to be one like no
other. We are prepared to reach heights our forefathers only dreamt of. Knowledge
is our foundation, and our goal is the sky!"

This time the crowd cheered.

Why do people like this self-righteous rubbish? Harlow put her elbows on her knees
and rested her head on her hands. She didn't have anything against learning, but
Father made it sound like such a duty. As if there was nothing else in life to live
for than to go to a fancy school and advance the community.

Harlow looked over at her sister-straight backed and soaking in every word Father
spit out. Just like him. The thought hit Harlow hard. If Brier was like Father, it
meant Harlow must be like their mother. Not that she'd ever know. The woman had
left Father shortly after she and Brier were born. Her governess said Mother's
leaving had changed him. He dove deeply into his studies only to fall in love with
his own achievements, or whatever. She had never seen Father express any kind of
emotion. He didn't give himself time to ponder his life, only what he'd done for
the city.

Harlow frowned. She didn't want to end up like that. Not at all. She wanted to
enjoy life, and knew it held so much more than dull work addictions. Just because
she was the daughter of the Smith-Consummate, she didn't have to follow his
footsteps like everyone in the Smokestack territory assumed.

She lifted her chin from her fists and looked up to the sky. A flock of white birds
flew against the morning clouds reminding her exactly why she wanted to be a pilot.
Freedom and adventure. And if it weren't meant to be, she could always be a concert
cellist. Or a submarine diver. Or a safari huntress. And if all else failed, she
would join the circus.

"And to extend a proper welcome to our overseas transfer students, my daughters

Brier Anne and Harlow Morgan will gladly be their guides for the first term."

Wait, what?

Harlow snapped out of her trance. She straightened up only to realize everyone was
staring at her. School officials were no longer the only ones on stage. Miss Himura
and the Japanese students stood next to Father.

"Come on, Har," Brier bent over and said to her between her teeth. "Father's
calling us."

When Harlow didn't move an inch, her sister grabbed her arm and pulled her from her
chair. They were nearly in the isle when Felix seized her free wrist.

"Good luck Harlow." He reached into his coat pocket, pulled something out, and
stuffed it in her hand. "It's sure to be spectacular."

As her sister dragged her toward the stage, she looked down at her palm. Her heart
leapt in her chest, for clutched between her fingers was a shiny silver captain's
badge.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter in Harlow's adventure.
Please remember to vote if you liked what you've read. I'd love to hear from you,
so please leave a comment.

Harlow is determined to get what she wants. A doctor-worthy-sprain won't stand in

her way of hedge race fame. What lengths have you gone to in order to get what you
really wanted?

A mix of emotions rushed over Harlow as she hobbled forward. Excitement. Panic.
Pain. She tightened her grip around the badge. The tips of its metal wings poked
her skin.

Flight captain. I'm flight captain.

Her insides tingled, and her ankle burned like fire.

"Hey, you all right?" Brier asked, then eased up on dragging her.

Harlow held up her hand and opened her fist.

Brier gasped. "You made it. I mean, of course you made it, but Har, you can't. Not
now. Forget the race."

"Forget the race? I can't." Her eyes darted from the stage to the maze entrance and
back again. There had to be some way to ditch Father's orders without suffering his
wrath.

Her sister blew out a sigh, releasing her. "Okay then, if you want it so badly.
Just . . . just follow my lead." She tightened her pigtails and walked taller.
"Ugh, Can't believe I'm doing this."

When they approached the side of the stage, Featherington's Headmaster replaced
Father at the speaking podium and invited the students to opening breakfast in the
mess hall. As her classmates emptied the garden, Father stepped down with the
Japanese lot close behind him.

"Here they are," he said. "Harlow, Brier Anne, I would like you to meet Professor
Yumi Himura."

Brier bent in a proper curtsy. "Pleased to meet you."

Harlow didn't move, captivated by Miss. Himura's appearance. A pale pink flower
pinned her voluminous jet black hair off to one side. The sleeves to her white
blue-trimmed dress were so long her hands seemed to disappear inside them. And the
thick golden cloth, elaborately decorated with tiny pink flowers, wrapped around
the woman like the strangest corset Harlow had ever seen.

Brier elbowed Harlow in the side.

Oh, right! "Pleased to meet you." She did her best at a curtsy.

Miss. Himura nodded, and the students behind her bowed from the waist.

"It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Harlow-san and Brier-san." She turned to
Harlow and smiled. "Your father told me you would be in my class. You play the
cello, correct?"

Harlow-san? "Yes, ma'am. I was first chair last year."

"Then I look forward to hearing you perform." Miss. Himura's English held a thick
accent, but was rather good for someone who'd never been to England.

"Brier and Harlow will show you to your seats in our mess hall," said Father.

Brier circled around from beside Harlow and stood next to Miss. Himura. "Of course,
I'll be glad to show you around, but my sister left her things in her seat. She's
got to go back."

Harlow ran her hand over her shoulder. Sure enough, she'd left her satchel in her
seat through all the commotion. Seeing the slight wink her sister gave her, she hit
her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Oh . . . oh yes! Silly me. Left everything
as usual. No need to wait. Go ahead. I'll catch up."
"Very well, Harlow," Father conceded. "Do hurry."

She turned to leave, but was stopped at Miss. Himura's voice. "Smith-Consummate-
sama," the woman said. "Would you mind if Takashi accompanies Harlow-san? He is
interested in looking at the school's garden, and a guide would be wonderful."

Miss. Himura made way for the bloke behind her, and Harlow cringed. Oh great. Just
my luck. The boy who caught her staring at him moments ago, stepped forward and
cocked a grin. The wind blew his thick choppy black hair about his face, partially
covering his charcoal eyes. His gaze landed on her. Her cheeks flushed. Though
dressed in bizarre wide trousers and a white jacket that reminded her of a bath
robe, he didn't seem uncomfortable in his new surroundings. In fact, he seemed
almost sure of himself, standing there with his arms crossed and his chin out. He
made Harlow instantly uncomfortable, and she had a strong feeling he might say
something to embarrass her for ogling him earlier.

"I don't think anyone would want me for a guide," Harlow said, hoping to be rid of
him. "I received terrible marks in Botany last term. Wouldn't be able to point out
a birch from a beech tree."

"That's true," muttered Father disappointingly. "Brier, gather your sister's things
and show this young man around while Harlow takes everyone to their seats."

"No!" exclaimed Harlow and Brier in unison. Brier put her hand to her mouth. Harlow
bit her lip, working up a way to dig herself out of the hole. "I mean, Brier
doesn't have to go out of her way for me. I'll show you around, Tackchee."

"Ta-ka-shi," he corrected, slowly and with a smidge of arrogance.

"Oh, right, Takashi."

Father fiddled with his handlebar mustache. "All settled then. I'll see you girls
later." He turned to Miss. Himura. "Good luck." He took her hand and gave her a
firm shake.

"Thank you, Smith-Consummate- sama," she said and bowed.

Father spun away on his heel, and Brier moved around to face the group. "All right
everyone," she said, clapping her hands. "Follow me to the mess hall. Father's
probably marked off our seats."

"Good luck," she whispered to Harlow as they passed.

Good luck indeed. I'll need every ounce of it. Alone with Takashi, Harlow walked
past him toward the aisle. "Let's go," she said then paused. "Um, do you speak much
English?"

"Yes, Morgan-san," he said, walking up behind her. "Quite a bit."

"Morgan-san? Oh, no, it's just Harlow." She stuck her hand out to him.

He hesitated before giving her a firm shake. "Harlow it is then. Forgive me. I'm
still getting used to everything here. "

The more he spoke, the more she noticed his lack of Miss. Himura's thick accent. In
fact he sounded more like her mates than a foreigner.

"It's all right," she said, walking again. "Should I call you Takashi, or Takashi-
san?"
He chuckled, making her think she'd made some sort of joke. "No, Takashi's fine."

"Uh, well, sounds good to me," she said, awkwardness sliding over her at his
handsome smile. "We'll just get my things and head through the rest of the garden."

When they arrived at the white rows, Harlow bent down to pick up her satchel but
Takashi grabbed it first. "I've got it," he said.

"You really don't have to," she protested. She'd never had a boy offer to carry her
things before. She reached for the strap, but he gave her such an insistent look
she backed off.

Silence grew between them as they walked about the garden, making Harlow extremely
uneasy. "So, you love nature?" she asked, grasping for anything at all to talk
about.

Takashi looked around at the trees and then around at the shrubberies. "I love
everything made by the Creator."

"You mean Mr. Fitzgerald, the gardener?" She shrugged. "I guess you can call him
the Creator. He does a pretty good job."

Now she must have made a joke. He laughed heartily. "No, not Mr. Fitzgerald. But if
he's in charge of this garden, then yes, he does a very good job. Especially over
there. Is that a hedge maze?" Takashi pointed at the eight foot high bushes.

Out the corner of her eye Harlow saw a dark figure disappear into the space between
the hedges. She had to think of something. Fast. Once Mouse saw her, the chase
began. She snatched Takashi's hand, pulled him to the hedge, and stopped at the
entrance.

His brow furrowed. "What? What's wrong?"

"Sorry," she said quickly, releasing his hand. "Do me a favor, will you? I've got
to go. Can you stay right here? I'll be back in no time to show you more beautiful
plant . . ." she waved her hand in a circle above her head, "thingies."

Wasting no more time, she ran into the hedge and left Takashi behind.

The entrance of the maze curved into a long leafy path where she spotted Mouse
mount his black hover-cycle. Harlow raced to her bike, jumped on it, and flipped
the thing to life. Mouse's rear fan disappeared around the bend the moment she
lifted in the air. She twisted the accelerator forward and banked left after him.

The trails became short and zigzagged in seconds. Her body responded instinctively.
Twisting right then left. Around a sharp edge and a tight corner, she kept her
focus on Mouse's brown curly hair, careful not to lose him.

And then he stopped.

"Blast," he cried, over the hum of their bikes.

She hit the brakes with her foot. Air burst out the rim of her front fan, enough to
kill her forward motion. Excruciating pain bolted up her leg, but at least she
managed not to crash into the stalled boy before her. "Crikey, Mouse."

"Ain't gettin' out 'o here this way, cap'n," he said, his northern accent lacing
his words.
She looked past him at the dead end. Thankfully, the width of the hedge gave her
enough room to turn about. Now in the lead, she sped toward the winner's flag at
the southern exit. Or at least what she thought was the exit. After several twists
and turns, the trail before her quickly ended in a wall of green leaves.

"Ain't that way either," Mouse hollered behind her, before he turned down a
passageway she missed.

Frustrated, she slammed her fist on the handlebars then spun around. Tearing down
the path he took, she lost him when the maze forked out. Her instincts led her
through the trail on the right. Maybe she'd luck out and he'd gotten himself good
and lost. But when she flew under the same overhanging twice, her heart sank. While
she went about in circles, Mouse must've already found the exit. Or so she guessed
until she turned around the next corner and he came barreling at her.

He slammed on his breaks. She painfully hit hers.

"Och, don't tell me this isn't tha way either," he said as he leaned forward.
"Well, at least yer lost too. Here I was, thinkin' I got beat by a gel."

"Don't worry," she said, circling around. "You still might."

Dirt and leaves whipped up as she took off. At first it sounded like he might have
followed her, but when she looked back, he was gone. For what seemed like forever,
she navigated the winding maze alone. No sign of Mouse. No sign of the exit.

Then suddenly, the hedge became unfamiliar. The paths narrowed and the sound of her
hollering classmates rose ahead. The exit! Sheer joy shot through her. Only a
little further, and the flag was hers. She pushed the bike as fast as it could go
and rolled around the turn.

But the moment she saw the exit, the flag, and everything she'd hoped for all
holiday within yards of her grasp, her eyes went wide. Between her cycle and the
exit, Takashi looked up at her. He jumped back against the hedge. But it didn't
make a difference. The path was too narrow, she'd hit him regardless. She kicked
her foot on the breaks. The quick stretch of her ankle sent an explosion of anguish
within her and she let off the back pedal.

The bike flew out of control straight at him. She had one choice. Yanking on the
handlebars, she turned the bike to the side and crashed right into the bush.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter in Harlow's adventure.
Please remember to vote if you liked what you've read. I'd love to hear from you,
so please leave a comment.

Harlow's sister is always watching out for her twin. Do you have a family member
who's got your back? How so?

Two hours earlier

Someone's watching me.

The hairs on the back of Takashi Satō's neck stood at attention. Though he and his
friends expected to be gawked at in this foreign land, he couldn't shake the twinge
across his skin, telling him someone was singling him out.

"What's wrong, Takashi-senpai?" The long-haired girl seated at his right blinked up
at him, concern wrinkling her brows. "Are you unwell?" Though she spoke in their
native tongue, somehow her words felt strange to his ears. He supposed it had to do
with how little they spoke anything but English these past few months.

Takashi shook his head.

"It's nothing. A little overwhelmed, is all." He would love to reply in the beauty
and comfort of his own language, but the mission came first.

It always came first.

"I know what you mean. London's strange, and the people here are stranger." Koji,
the youngest on their trip, sank in his chair on Takashi's opposite side.

"Just think," Miki said, "We'll be dressed just like them tomorrow. You two are
lucky. You wear hakama . . . wait, what do they call them . . . trousers all the
time. I hardly ever wear them. It's so uncomfortable."

Koji locked his fingers behind his head. "You'll be fine Miki. It's Sensei I'm
worried about."

Takashi's gaze slid over the tense woman seated in front of them. Himura breathed
out a slow shaky breath. Close to her chin, she twisted a pale pink handkerchief so
tightly it looked ready to turn to dust between her fingers. Takashi leaned
forward, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"You alright?"

She jumped at his touch. "Yes, yes," she said, regaining her composure. "I am fine.
I promise." Her reassuring smile cracked and faltered.

Takashi released her with as much of a nod as he could muster. She looked about as
fine as his stomach felt on the rocky boat ride to this country. Not that he blamed
her. The pressures of this trip had caused him a sudden paranoia outbreak.

"Miki-chan, what's your first class?" Koji asked, flipping open the schedule they'd
received upon arriving in England.

"Umm . . . Mathematics, I think."

"Ha!" exclaimed Koji. "That's my first class too."

Miki sighed. "Can't believe I have to go to school with boys."

"At least you two have each other. Aside from Sensei, I won't know anyone." A chill
ran down his spine. Takashi spun in his chair.

I'll find whoever is staring at me if it kills me.

"Takashi, are you sure you're feeling well?" Miki asked again.

"I don't know," he said, his head still turned back, "I feel as though someone
watching me."

Koji nudged him. "Everyone's watching us."

"Well, yes, but it's more than tha--" He spotted her. His instincts flared to life
at the sight of the girl in the distance. Sitting far up the hill, she tilted her
head, eyeing him like a specimen in a laboratory.

"Takashi?"

Amazing. Her hair was the color of maple tree leaves in the fall. He'd seen English
people with yellow and brown hair, but never brilliant orange. The wind caught a
few strands, fluffing it about her pale skin.

"Takashi?" Koji tried again a little louder.

His eyes narrowed. Why is she staring at me so openly? The girl jerked her gaze
from him, and the feeling vanished.

"Takashi!" Miki and Koji shouted together.

He jerked then turned back to his friends. "Found out who was staring at me."

Koji contorted his face and raised one brow. "Besides everyone?"

Takashi gave him a shove. "Yes, Koji-kun, besides everyone. She's in the first row
back by the trees. The girl with the orange hair."

They both turned and squinted. "Masaka!" Miki gasped. "Her hair is amazing."

"I don't get it," said Koji, "why's she so different than everyone else?"

Takashi rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I don't know."

Turning to face him, Miki's smile grew and her eyes sparkled sugar sweet. "Know
what I think," she declared as if she were lost in a daydream.

Oh great, here it comes. "No, Miki-chan I couldn't possibly know what you're
thinking." Takashi made his sarcasm as clear as ever, but Miki kept on nonetheless.

"I think you've got an admirer," she said, ignoring his tone. "And what an admirer
she is." She perched her head in her hands and stared off into the clouds. "Takashi
and a foreign beauty . . . well, I suppose she isn't foreign in London, but back
home she will be. How romantic."

Koji reached over and nudged Miki's hand so her chin fell forward.

"Hey," she yelped.

"Come on Miki, try not to plan out his wedding on the first day."

Stubborn, she huffed. "You know I'm never wrong about these things."

Takashi and Koji gave each other the same skeptic look when a loud voice boomed
from the stage.

"Welcome everyone to another promising year at Featherington School of Science and

Advancement." The most enormous man Takashi had ever seen stood at the podium with
a black top hat and a thick brown mustache that curled upwards on the ends. He
spoke in a deep voice that commanded awe. Medals of every color plastered his dark
grey coat. Truly, this was an important man.

But important or not, a blanket of distinctions couldn't distract from the one
feature Takashi's eyes locked onto. This man--if truly he were a man--had a right
arm made completely of metal. A leather shoulder strap fit firmly across his chest,
but below that there was nothing, from what Takashi assumed, but copper and brass.

The most amazing part was the way the arm moved. If he couldn't see through it at
parts, he would think the arm was simply covered by metal, not entirely composed of
it. There was fluidity to its movements. Gears turned and copper pipes shot out
steam, but the arm moved in the same exact way the man's other arm did.

Himura twisted around in her chair and nodded toward the stage. "That is him," she
whispered.

"That's him?" Koji blinked. "He even human?"

"Yes, but as you can see our methods must be . . . well thought out."

Koji huffed. "By a miracle working genius."

Takashi looked back up at the Smith-Consummate. How could they possibly get
anything out of this man? He wondered if he even had what they needed.

"One of the newest additions to the faculty this term," the Consummate continued,
"is our orchestra conductor Miss Yumi Himura. She and a few of our new students are
the first guests to this magnificent city from the closed off country of Japan. If
you would all please welcome them to the stage," A forced applause rose as they
walked to the front.

Nervousness jitters sped through Takashi's limbs. He knew Londoners shook hands as
a greeting, and he wasn't all too excited with this man being his first hand shake.
That metal arm could easily crush his bones. Hopefully a bow would suffice.

"I'm not shaking his hand," whispered Koji from behind him, reading his mind.

"We'll do whatever we have to," Takashi said, more for his own benefit than for
Koji's.

When they approached the stage, they were instructed where to stand. The Smith-
Consummate continued with his speech by inviting his two daughters to join him.
Takashi blinked. They hadn't expected to meet the Morgan girls so soon.

The two girls stood and walked down the aisle, and Miki nudged him in the shoulder.
One of the girls was beautiful for sure, but the one with the bright orange hair
knocked the breath out of his lungs. A sense of providence settled in his bones.
There was no such thing as coincidence. She was their way in.

"Sensei?" he said, tapping her on the arm.

"Yes, Takashi?"

"I think I'm connected to the orange haired girl somehow. She's our way to the
notes."

"Are you certain?"

"As certain as we were to come here."

"So be it. I will look for any opportunity."

As they stepped down from the stage, he got a better look at the freckle faced
Morgan girl. Practically shoved forward by her sister, she twisted her fingers
through the messy hair falling from her side ponytail and darted her eyes around.
She must be more anxious about meeting strangers than he. The thought gave him
confidence. He straightened his back and gave her his warmest smile.

Sensei Himura took advantage of the situation, and soon he walked with the Morgan
girl alone. Everything went better than he had hoped. As they moved to the garden
to get her things, she amused him twice with her frank charm. Her green eyes
sparkled like a spring meadow as she slipped into casual conversation with him. His
own ease and confidence rose with each step.

But the moment he mentioned the hedge maze, she completely snapped. Snatching his
hand, she dragged him toward the giant bushes. Before he could register what had
happened, she disappeared, telling him to stay put. Once he'd gotten over his
initial shock, he moved in after her. But he was too late. She was gone, and he had
no idea which way she went.

His shoulders slumped, and he walked out the entrance. Still carrying her things,
he was left with no choice but to wait for her return. He crossed his legs and sat
on the ground. The wind kicked up, blowing the trees and the hedge behind him to
and fro. A chill ran up his arms and he pulled the fabric of his haori a little
tighter around his chest. Hopefully he wouldn't have to sit in the cold waiting for
her too long.

His mind began to drift towards thoughts of home, the beauty this time of year
would spread across the land, when a group of English students walked toward the
hedge. They must've come from their opening breakfast as two of them held flaky
pastries.

"I bet he's walloped her right good," said one of the boys, before stuffing his
face with some kind of tart.

"Aye, Mouse is crakin' at races," said the other.

The girl in front of them turned around and walked backward as she spoke. "You
really think Harlow's not going to make it out of there? I heard she aced her
flight exam."

Without bothering to swallow, the first boy answered her, chunks of his breakfast
flying out his mouth. "It don't matter if she aced an exam. Meriwether's the most
merciless bloke at school. She'll be done for in a heartbeat."

Done for? Takashi got on his feet and approached the group. "Hello there. You
aren't talking about Harlow Morgan, are you?" he asked, walking alongside them.

"Sure are mate," said the backwards walking girl. "That's some outfit you've got
on."

He shook his head. These people didn't seem to care. Maybe he heard them wrong. "Is
she in trouble?"

"Trouble, ha," said the boy with the tart, who thankfully swallowed this time.
"Trouble don't begin to describe it. If she comes out of that hedge in one piece,
it'd be a bloomin' miracle."
Takashi felt sick. "What? Why?"

"Look, if you saw the bloke who went in there with her, you'd understand. Now if I
were you, I'd put my money on Meriwether. You might even make enough to buy some
real clothes." The two boys laughed.

The girl hit the shorter boy in the chest with the back of her hand. "Not nice,
Henry."

Takashi had to find her. "Where's the end of the maze?"

"Keep following the hedge that way," said the boy rubbing his chest and pointing
straight ahead. "You'll see loads of people around the exit."

"Thank you," Takashi said then sprinted down the length of the hedge.

Running the perimeter of the giant maze took much longer than Takashi had hoped.
But he soon spotted the noisy students bunched up around the exit and slowed his
pace. Laughing and shouting, they seemed to be throwing some sort of celebration.
He nudged his way through the mob.

"Make way, make way," hollered a very tall boy through the noise. "Come on, you
lot, make room all ready. They'll be coming out any second now."

The mound of people split up the middle, giving Takashi a clear path to the maze.
He broke free of the crowd. He took off toward the hedge when the tall boy got
right in his way.

"Whoa, whoa, there," he said, holding up his arms. "Where do you think you're
going?"

Takashi tried to shift past him with no luck. "Let me through."

"You have some kind of death wish? Nobody goes in. Just head on back and enjoy the
show like everyone else."

The show? He can't be serious.

"I'll take my chances," Takashi said, moving to the side.

The boy moved with him. "I said step off." He shoved Takashi backward.

Irritated, Takashi straightened his haori and tried again. The boy raised his hands
to shove him again, but Takashi reacted before he could. Grabbing his arm, he
twisted it around and pushed up on his elbow. "I'm not stepping off anywhere. Let
me by."

"What the-are you out of your mind? I don't know who you think you are, but I'm not
letting anyone in there." Takashi applied a little more pressure to the hold.
"Owww! Okay, okay. It's your funeral." When Takashi let him go, the boy stepped
aside, giving him room to run into the maze.

Praying he'd find Harlow quickly, he bolted around the corner on the right then
stopped only a few feet in. The wind kicked up, and a strange humming sound grew
around him.

He took a few steps back when a black metal contraption flew right for him. Panic
jumped in his chest. He flinched back. Hot air burst from the belly of the
mechanical beast, and the thing stopped within inches of crashing into him.
Relieved, he looked up to see the machine had somehow turned itself into a bicycle.
But his relief died when its rider tossed the bike down and came at him in a fury.

"Crivens!" the large curly headed boy shouted. "What do ya think yer doin'? I
coulda killed ya, ya crazy fool. How tha blazes did you get in here?"

Takashi narrowed his gaze at whom he assumed had to be Meriwether. "Where is she?
What have you done to her?"

"You mean tha cap'n? Oh come on. I don't have time fer this. Get out o' me way."

Takashi planted his feet and crossed his arms.

"So tha's how it's gonna be," Meriwether said, ripping off his green lensed
goggles. "Then I'll just move ya meself." The boy's fist came right at Takashi's
face.

Instincts took over. Takashi slid back. Meriwether's arm flew forward, landing him
head first into the hedge. But the lout quickly recovered. "Yer messin' with tha
wrong guy," he said and charged Takashi again.

Really? He's the one messing with me. Using the boy's momentum against him, Takashi
sent him back in the hedge with a dodge and a push. Some of the branches must have
caught the brute's lower lip. As he stood, he touched the blood trickling down his
chin with the tips of his fingers.

Sheer fury filled his eyes. With clenched fists, he came at Takashi in a whirlwind.
His blows rained down like an avalanche. Takashi didn't hesitate. His body reacted
on impulse, taking on a few punches but blocking and dodging most. Until one last
sidestep caused the boy's face to hit the ground hard. When Meriwether got back on
his feet, his gushing nose matched his busted lip. Wiping the blood with the back
of his hand, he spit then ran out of the maze.

"Ugh, great." Takashi winced and rubbed his side where the boy's fists made
contact. First day and I've already been in a fight. The whole exchange had him
turned around. He walked past the boy's discarded bike, headed further into the
maze, and ended up right back at its exit.

He made a slight movement to turn back when a loud hum stopped him. His gaze flew
down the straightaway at the same time another flying machine barreled at him. This
time, its rider's bright red hair flapped in the wind. He leapt against the bush.
But Harlow didn't stop. He cringed, bracing himself for impact.

Only she didn't hit him. With a sharp yelp, she rammed her bike into the foliage.
The branches of the hedge snapped and cracked. The hum died, and white smoke
escaped the machine now on top of Harlow. He ran to her.

"You alright?"

Lying on her side, she pushed herself up on her elbow. Crisscrossed scratches and
cuts covered her skin beneath her torn sleeves and over her brow. Leaves wove into
her tangled red locks, and dirt smudged her cheeks. "Yeah, I think so. Oh wait,
oww, no, my leg's stuck," she said, digging into the dirt and pulling herself back.

He grabbed the bike by its back end and lifted it as best he could. Thankfully, it
wasn't too heavy. He managed at least to get it off her. She pulled her leg out and
he set the machine down.
"Thanks," she said, rubbing her ankle.

He lowered his hand to her. "Here, let me help you."

She brushed him away. "I've got it." He stood back as she used the bushes to pull
herself up. Which seemed to work, but she looked about to fall over at any second.
Her face furrowed, and she pulled some twigs from her hair. "What are you doing
here? I thought you were going to wait for me at the other end."

"Someone said you were in trouble so I came to-hey, where are you going?"

"I've got to hurry," she said, limping and moving around him. "Maybe I can still
beat Mouse." She squirmed with each step, barely touching her right foot to the
ground.

"Hurry? To where, a doctor?" He walked up beside her, offering his arm.

She didn't take it.

"Look, I appreciate what you've done. Coming to my rescue and all. But the only
trouble I'll be in is if I don't win this race. And I've got to-ow-do it on my
own."

Taking one more step, she collapsed. His arms jetted out, catching her before she
hit the ground. She slid forward, looking up at him with flush cheeks. He gripped
her shoulders and pulled her upright. "You're not going anywhere on your own. Come
on. Put your arm over my shoulder."

She rolled her eyes, but did it anyway. "Fine," she said, walking in a hobbled
stride with him. "But let's get on with it. The flag's still there, and Mouse
should be here any second."

"What are you talking about? What mouse?"

"That's just what we call him. He's the bloke I'm racing. Real name's Meriwether. I
really thought he'd beat me by now, but I guess not."

"Meriwether? You mean that curly headed kid on the flying bike like yours?"

She yanked off the red flag from the pole at the maze exit and smiled. Then
stepping out of the maze, they both looked about in confusion at the empty garden.
"That's strange," she said. "Wonder where everyone went. Wait, you saw Mouse?"

"I saw him all right. Saw his fists fly at my face. He attacked me when I came
looking for you. Real friendly, that one. He ran out of the hedge when I found
you."

She stuffed the flag in her jacket pocket. "He left already? Without the flag? Then
. . . then I didn't win. Or maybe I did. Oh, I don't know. Why would he do that?"

Takashi shrugged. "You've got me. But, hey, let's go find him and ask. Maybe we can
ask if he'll smash my face in while he's at it," he said dryly.

She looked up at him and winced. "Sorry for that. Mouse isn't known for his, um,
tact. Ugh, I'm such a terrible guide," she said with a sigh. "Let's just get to
class. That's probably where everyone is anyway. Did they tell you where you'd be
after opening breakfast?"
He nodded. "Orchestra."

"Perfect. That's my first class too. It's in the east building. That way," she
said, pointing past him. Together they moved around the perimeter of the hedge.

As he supported her small frame, they covered a good distance in silence. With each
step, he watched his opportunity to talk to her slip away. He tried to think of the
best way to say what he needed to, but came up with nothing.

"So, what made you come all the way to England?" she asked when the silence grew
thick. "They open the borders of your country, and you decide the Smokestack's the
place to be?"

He blinked. Maybe he hadn't made a mistake in barreling into that hedge. A rocky
start for sure, but finally he had an opening.

He took a deep breath. "No, not exactly." He paused, thinking how best to put it.
"We're here to find something that's been lost to our people since before Japan was
closed off. We know the three maps to its location are hidden in England, but the
long isolation has given us only a small window to find them. So, we'll start with
the most likely place and go from there."

She looked at him like he'd grown two heads. He hoped she was more interested than
spooked by his bluntness. But he didn't have time to waste on fluffing anything up.

A grin grew on her face. "You can't be serious. Wow. So you think there's some kind
of what, treasure map hidden in Featherington?"

Good, she seemed interested. For now. His pulse raced. The success of their mission
may depend on his next words. He looked her in the eyes. "Actually, we think your
father has it."

Thank you for reading! Please remember to vote if you liked what you've read.

Takashi got his own chapter this time around. (I love writing this guy. He's full
of surprises.) Being the new guy in town, he's got to deal with some culture shock.
When was the last time you moved to a new place? Was it hard? Tell me in the
comments. I love hearing from you!

Of all the things Harlow exceeded at doing poorly, walking while surprised ranked
up there with cleaning and studying. When Takashi told her he believed her father
owned an ancient treasure map, her right foot smacked directly into her left. She
lurched forward and slipped from his grasp, landing on her side.

The pain that had somewhat subsided since the crash flared up in a flash. She
inhaled sharp and quick through her teeth. "Ssss!"

Takashi dropped down beside her. "That's it. You need to get looked at. Does this
school have an infirmary?"

She nodded.
"Where is it?"

"Through there," she said, pointing toward towering oak doors a few feet away.

"Alright, let's go." He swung her satchel across his chest and helped her to her
feet. Pushing the massive door open, he led her down Featherington's winding halls.
Classmates rushed around like mad before the tardy bell chimed. "Where to now?"

"Um, two doors to the left."

When they entered the infirmary, a row of people lined the waiting benches. They
sat packed together shoulder to shoulder. Harlow felt her brow tighten.

Of course the whole place is stuffed with sick people. Just my luck.

The infirmary door's hinge squealed as it closed behind them. All eyes landed on
her, wide and horrified. She followed their gazes to her filthy clothes. Dirt and
leaves caked on her from corset top to trousers tips. She sniffed.

Like to see one of them crash in a hedge and come up all pressed and polished.

Gripping Takashi, she hobbled up to the nurse's station at the far end of the room.
A furrow browed woman, who either smelled something die under her desk, or had been
the victim of a rather painful smash to the nose, thrust a clipboard across the
desk. "Write your name on the list and what's wrong with you," She sneered with a
gritty groan.

Harlow scribbled the brief story of her injury on the paper and handed it back to
the woman.

Eyes fixed on the desk, the woman waved her away "It's going to be at least fifteen
minutes before the nurse can see you, Harlow. Have a seat."

"Can I stay with her?" asked Takashi.

"This isn't social time, young man. Healthy people can get back to class."

"It's okay, Takashi. I'll be fine," said Harlow. "Oh, when you go back out the
door, make a left and go up the staircase to the first floor. Your class will be
three doors down on the left."

"Thank you," he said, walking her toward the bench. "And feel better." He helped
her sit in the only empty space, by the exit. Then, removing her satchel from his
shoulder, he gave it back and left the room.

After a few moments, the pulses of pain throbbed through her ankle. She frowned.

This better not take long. Don't know how much more I can stand.

"Achoo!" sneezed the girl beside her. A few sniffles followed before the girl wiped
her face with her forearm. Snot covered the white of her muslin sleeves. Harlow
scooted toward the edge of the bench.

"You don' look so good," said the girl, rubbing her nose in a circle with a rag.
"How'd you get all of dose weaves in your hair?"

Harlow reached through her locks and pulled out the pieces of shrubbery in
question. "I'm flight captain. I was in the hedge."
The girl gasped. "Oh! Weally?" Sniff. "I'm sowwy. I heard wa happened."

Someone next to the girl tapped her shoulder. "Gabby, let me switch with you."

"Okay, Josephine."

Thankfully, the contagious-looking Gabby stood to let the less sickly, dark haired
girl take her place. Josephine slid across the hard bench till she was inches from
Harlow. Covered in sparkly jewelry, her dangling metal earrings chimed against the
rectangular spectacles framing her heart shaped face.

"So you're Harlow Morgan," Josephine said with a weird tone that made Harlow feel
like an escaped convict caught by Magnitude officials.

"Uh . . . yes," said Harlow, leaning away and upping her guard. The girl didn't
seem physically sick, but maybe there was something else wrong with her.

"You've got some nerve, showing up here after what you've pulled."

Harlow blinked. "What?" She must've heard her wrong. "I think you're mistaking me
for someone else."

"No. I know exactly who you are. The Smith-Consummate's daughter. Think you don't
have to obey any rules since daddy's so famous? I know what you did. And so does
everyone here."

Josephine's lips curled in disgust, and Harlow looked past her. Every person on the
bench turned their way. With the exception of snotty Gabby, none of them looked
sick, and all of them inched in to eavesdrop. Harlow suddenly wished she had snotty
Gabby back. "Look, I don't even know you. If you have something to say to me, then
say it. I'm in a lot of pain and not in the mood for games."

"You can't possibly be in as much pain as you and your Magic friend caused poor
Meriwether."

"Mouse?"

"Yes, Mouse. He's in the nurse's office mending the busted lip that cheating Magic
gave him," Josephine said, pointing toward the closed door.

"You mean Takashi?" Harlow's jaw dropped. This girl was nuts. Magics, really? The
thought was beyond farfetched. Everyone knew using magic was outlawed-had been ever
since the Smokestack Territory formed and the Magnitude banned anything outside
science and reason. Every now and again stories of magic users popped up in rumors
and hushed voices, throwing people into frenzies. But Harlow didn't know any Magics
personally, let alone have one as a friend. And there was no way the Magnitude
would allow Magics one step onto English soil.

"Even has a strange Magic name," the girl went on. "Cheating is one thing, but to
use a Magic . . ."

This had to be the most bizarre conversation Harlow ever had. "Why would you think
Takashi's a Magic? As far as I know, he's just a foreigner. And we didn't cheat.
Where did that come from?"

"After your friend bloodied him, Meriwether told everyone a cheating Magic did it.
Has to be true. Meri didn't even take the flag. Only a Magic could make him do
that."
All Harlow could do, was stare. Accusing a person of sorcery was serious. And this
girl took it so lightly. Any Magic found in the Smokestack was immediately
ostracized for fear of disorder and chaos. A rumor like this could get Harlow
suspended.

"This is crazy. I'll just talk to Mouse when he comes out. Clear it right up."

"Good luck with that. Don't think he'll want to hear what the likes of a cheat has
to say."

Anger churned Harlow's insides. Eyes burning, she locked onto Josephine's smug
little face, letting her know exactly how much further this asinine conversation
was going to go on. "I'm still his flight captain, he'll hear me out."

Just then the door to the nurse's office opened. Mouse walked out with a bag of ice
pressed against his mouth. It's time to set things straight. Harlow lifted herself
to stand when Josephine kicked her foot. Pain exploded up her leg. She sucked a
breath and slammed back into her seat.

Smiling, Josephine jumped up, and ran to Mouse. "Meriwether! You alright?" she
exclaimed, grabbing onto his arm.

"Aye, Josephine. But you're squeezin' the life out of me arm," he said, his eyes
dropping to the wretched girl. Cuddling him all the way out, Josephine blocked his
view of all but her. Once he was out the door, she stuck her tongue out at Harlow
then exited the infirmary. Nearly half the bench of students trailed them,
apparently only there to witness the train wreck.

Defeated, Harlow sank in the chair. She had hoped the nurse would let her go home,
but now she was stuck cleaning up this mess of a rumor. Wonderful.

The people in this school could be outright insane sometimes, coming up with
ridiculous lies out of thin air. But Takashi, a Magic? It didn't fit. So she'd only
just met the bloke, still, she knew he wasn't a Magic. Or was he? He was searching
for some old map her father supposedly owned. That, in and of itself, was weird.
Percival Morgan didn't own anything old. He was too consumed with the future-on
building a bigger and better tomorrow.

But he did keep weaponry from imprisoned Magics for study in his smithy-for crime
research or something like that. Some of those looked rather old. Maybe whatever
Takashi was looking for was a weapon. And Father had a map to that weapon? The
whole thing made her head ache.

"Harlow Morgan," said the assistant, rousing her from her thoughts.

Finally. She got up and limped forward.

"Miss Morgan!" Nurse Albright exclaimed, rushing through the door. With a strange
smile on her round face, she ushered Harlow into her office while stuffing a brown
tendril into her loose bun. "Oh good. Come, come this way."

Of all the doctors and nurses Harlow grew up with, most had a genuine concern for
the wellbeing of their patients, but not Nurse Albright. She only held interest for
intriguing injuries. And from the way the woman greeted her, Harlow's foot must be
worse off than she thought.

Harlow put her hand to her nose as Nurse Albright's office reeked of formaldehyde.
The nurse had Harlow sit on a long elevated table while she flopped herself down on
a black wheeled stool and scooted toward her. Grabbing a clipboard from the counter
on the way, she flipped through its pages. "Beatrice said you fell in your room and
might have broken your leg."

"Um, well, it hurts, but I hope it isn't broken. And I don't think it's my whole
leg. Just my ankle."

Her eyes glued to the clipboard, the woman responded with a dismissive wave of her
hand and an apathetic "mhumm", followed by several minutes of silence.

Uhnh, this is going to take forever.

"By jove that's it!"

Harlow jumped at Nurse Albright's outburst. "What? What's it?"

Albright smacked her clipboard with the back of her hand. "These blasted
instructions. Thought they could outwit me did they?" She jumped up from the stool
and left the room.

Crikey, I'd hate to see how she treats someone she isn't interested in. Within a
minute the door flew open, and in wheeled a large contraption followed by Nurse
Albright. She pushed the monstrosity into the middle of the room then stood next to
Harlow breathing heavily.

"Just look at it!" she cried, her hands on her hips. "That, my dear, is scientific
progress at its finest. What do you say? You ready to try her out?"

"Who me?" Harlow asked pointing to herself. The thing looked scarier than a
carnival ride put together by a serial killing magician. Jagged chunks of metal
stuck out in all directions with no obvious purpose other than to terrify her. In
its center, there was a massive black box with a hole large enough to fit a human
leg inside. Harlow eyed it with contempt, easily guessing the woman's intentions.
All kinds of gadgets surrounding the box spun, lit up, and made an array of
frightening whistling sounds when Nurse Albright flipped the on switch.

"Of course, you silly. It'd be useless to test on myself. My leg is in perfectly
good condition."

"What? You've never tried this on anyone? Is it safe?"

"Safer than walking about in your room," she laughed. Pulling Harlow's leg up
without an ounce of gentleness, she shoved it in the box-shoe on and all. Running
around to the other side, she grinned from ear to ear and clapped. "Amazing! Will
you look at that? Oh, ha, well I suppose you can't see it from where you are, but
trust me it is magnificent!" She reached over and pushed a button. As she pulled
out a piece of paper from the machine, the whistling stopped. "All right, we're
done," she said and helped Harlow take out her leg.

"That was quick."

"Well now, it wouldn't be worth it if it were time-consuming, would it? I've some
good news and some bad news. Which shall you have first?"

Harlow shrugged. "The bad I guess."

"So be it. As you can see here on the x-ray my lovely machine took, your ankle is
not broken like we thought. Merely sprained."
"That's the bad news?"

"Oh, right, sorry. Bad for me, good for you." The woman frowned. "I so would've
loved to use my realignment machine I got in a fortnight ago. It's said to realign
bone fractures and reduce the need for surgery in most cases. A breakthrough in
medical science."

Harlow hated to ask. "What's the good news?"

"My X-ray machine worked splendidly! Wonderfully fast, and didn't require the use
of those tedious lead aprons." Nurse Albright practically stuck her nose in her
machine, completely ignoring anything around her.

Harlow loudly tapped the metal table. "Nurse Albright?" she asked when the nurse
didn't get the hint. "Hate to be a bother during your new discovery and all, but is
there anything you can do for my ankle?"

Turning away from her contraption, the nurse squinted and pushed her glasses up her
nose. "Right, right. A moment." She went to a cabinet on the other side of the room
and pulled out a white bottle. Then pouring a glass of water from a pitcher, she
stirred in a spoonful of white powder from the bottle into the glass. "Here," she
said, handing the glass to Harlow. "Drink this. It'll reduce the pain. Oh, and you
can use those crutches over there by the door for as long as you need them. Keep
your foot elevated if possible. Are you my last student?"

"I think so."

"Wonderful. Do hurry up and get back to class," said the nurse, without offering to
help with the crutches.

Harlow drank the foul tasting medicine and carefully slid off the table. She leaned
against the counter tops toward the crutches then left Nurse Albright alone with
her precious machine.

Hobbling her way up the staircase toward the music hall, she knew she'd be late.
Orchestra was two hours long, but at her pace, she was positive she missed the
first hour. With each step, she fought both the crutches and gravity to the point
of looking down right comical. Reaching the top, she took a moment to rest.

"Harlow!" a female voice called from behind. Harlow turned to see Carolina running
up the stairs. "There you are," her friend said out of breath. "I've been looking
everywhere for you." She tilted her head and gave Harlow a look over. "What
happened? Did you get hurt in the race?"

"Not really. How'd you get out of class?"

"I had to find you right away. So I faked a cough, and got excused to the nurse's
office." She waved a dark wooden hall pass. "But, it looks like you just came from
there."

Harlow nodded.

"Ugh, if I knew that I would've gone where I said I'd go when I heard the news.
Instead, I went to the orchestra room. Felt like a complete ninny looking for you.
Really, there are too many people in that class. I bet you could skip the entire
term and no one would be the wiser. I mean really. How tight can they pack that
room and still fit those big instruments?"
Harlow's head spun trying to follow her friend's jabbering. "Carolina. Stop. What
are you going on about? What news?"

"That the Japanese transfer students are Magics, and you and your family used them
to cheat."

Harlow groaned. "My family? You can't believe-Father doesn't even-" Either the pain
medicines kicked in full force, or the room began to sway. "I didn't use anyone to
cheat. Come on. How was I to know he'd enter the maze? I only just met the bloke.
And Father would never allow me anywhere near a Magic."

"That's what I thought, but that flag sticking out of your jacket isn't doing you
any favors. Everyone already thinks a sorcerer helped you win. If your father is
accused of bringing Magics to school, he'll be cut off from his position in the
Magnitude immediately."

"Fine then," Harlow said, forcing the room to stop its sway. She let go of one
crutch to stuff the flag further in her pocket. "I'll just tell everyone the
Japanese aren't Magics. Problem solved."

"And who will believe you? What proof do you have?"

"What proof do these malicious rumor mills have?"

"It doesn't matter if they have proof or not. It's Featherington. People believe
it. And if certain people believe it, well, that's that. But don't worry. I know
how to keep your father's name safe."

"Oh yeah, how?"

"Run with the rumor. Everyone already thinks Magics control minds. Publicly accuse
them of controlling you and your father. The Japanese will get kicked out, but your
reputations will be safe."

Harlow shook her head. Probably the dumbest idea ever. "There's got to be another
way. This bloke's been nothing but nice to me."

Carolina stepped closer and looked Harlow in the eyes. "There is no other way.
Think about it Har. You know what rumors do to people in this school. If it keeps
up, your father will come under investigation. Guilty or not, he'll lose months of
work all because you didn't do anything to stop it. Not to mention you'll be
suspended."

"Look, I appreciate you telling me this, but I . . . I have to think about it."

"You'd better think fast. The day's half over already."

"Okay," Harlow said, fingers lifted off her crutches in mock defeat. "I'll think
about it quickly. Oh, and you may want to visit the infirmary on your way back."

"Too right," Carolina said. "Master Cromwell will have my head if I come back
without the nurse's pardon." She ran down the steps, her blonde hair dancing behind
her. "Good luck Har. Think about what I've said."

Harlow's ears popped as she walked down the orchestra room's corridor. The walls
were designed to deafen sound, so the closer she got to the entrance, the more
noises she heard. But instead of the staccato plucks of strings or the deep pounds
on a tympani, heated conversation replaced swelling music. She slowed her pace to a
halt before entering the main room.

"Children, please take your seats." Miss Himura said, her accent giving her away.
"I promise you, these are all unfounded speculations. None of which are true. I do
not understand. We were doing so well moments ago."

"That was before we learned you two are Magics!" shouted a male voice.

"I'm not doing anything a Magic tells me to," another voice exclaimed.

Oh no. The rumor spread like wildfire. Who in this crazy school had it in for her
that badly? She racked her brain to come up with any enemies she made last term.
Maybe the girl she beat out for cello chair, or that creep hanging out by the
girl's lavatory she told to clear off.

"Come on, that doesn't make any sense." It sounded like Takashi. "We don't even
know what a Magic is."

"And we're supposed to take your word for it? Give us some proof that you are who
you say you are."

"Harlow Morgan." Harlow slammed the back of her head against the wall when Takashi
said her name. "She was with me in the maze. She'll vouch for us."

"She can vouch for you all day long. No one here will trust anything she says.
Everyone knows Harlow's a no good cheater whose father's in cahoots with you," said
a young girl's voice.

"Yeah, and I wouldn't put it past that father of hers to receive financial gain in
all this," another girl's voice shrilled. "Stuffing Magics in our school.
Controlling our minds to do his will. They only want to fatten their pocketbooks!"

Harlow saw red. Whoever that was, if she were going to say such terrible things
about her family, she'd do so face to face. She swiveled on her crutches, stormed
around the corner, and stopped right in front of the cello section, glaring up at
two taller girls whose smug faces instantly dropped into shock at her presence.

"Take that back right now." The girls' faces grew pale as Harlow moved closer.
"Neither I, nor my father, are in cahoots with anyone."

"Young lady?"

Harlow jerked her body forward, intimidating the girls to cower and sit down.

"Young lady?"

Turning to the voice behind her, she was mortified by what she saw. Mr Bartlett
stood behind her with his arms crossed over his chest. Her stomach sunk to the
hardwood.

Each new teacher was followed around by a class moderator to make certain they did
their job properly, but Mr Bartlett was the worst choice for moderator there could
possibly be. She wanted to die.

Truth be told, she had only ever seen two moderators, Mr Bartlett and Mr Whittle.
While Mr Whittle was a kind old man, who did his job professionally, Mr Bartlett
was a pompous "know it all", who relied more on the rumor mills for information
than on honest facts.

But worse than that, the man was power hungry. Removing Father from his position
left more room for the likes of this heap of garbage to squeeze someone he kisses
up to into the job. He's done so before to people of lower rank in the Magnitude.
He must be aiming high to go after Father.

With his greasy long grey hair tied back in a slick ponytail, Mr Bartlett walked
forward, closing the gap between them. His pencil thin mustache scrunched up over
his thin lip, he placed his hands on his skinny hips. "I hope you have a valid
explanation for all this."

Harlow looked past him to see Miss Himura and Takashi standing near the pianoforte.
A mix of desperation and hope danced across Takashi's face.

"Are you, or are you not in league with the Japanese?" Mr Bartlett continued.

"Of course I'm not."

"Very well, reliable sources have accused them of sorcery. Explain your family's
involvement."

She bit her lip and tapped her foot.

Mr Bartlett reared his head back. He so enjoyed fanciful dramatics. "Did they use
their crafts on you and your father to infiltrate our school?"

She was trapped. The entire classroom locked on to her, tension swelled through a
unison of silence. Anger burned through her at their accusations. Think of me what
they want. I'm not lying to hurt these people. But as Mr Bartlett narrowed his eyes
at her, inching ever so closely, Father's words last night echoed through her mind.
Everyone in this city is itching for an excuse to remove me from my post. They're
watching me, Harlow. And they're watching my daughters. Carolina was right. No one
would believe her-especially not Mr Bartlett. Everything Father cared for depended
on her. She looked back one more time at Takashi. His eyes pleaded with her to
utter the truth.

"Miss Morgan. Answer the question."

Harlow shut her eyes and lowered her head. At that moment she hated herself.

"Yes."

Thank you for reading! Please remember to vote if you liked what you've read.

Oh my goodness, that was probably the hardest chapter for me to write yet. Rumors
and peer-pressure are probably my least favorite thing about high school. Harlow
succumbed to them, and maybe you have too. What havoc have rumors caused in your
life? Let's talk in the comments!

The rest of First Day muddled on like a dream, or rather like a numb nightmare.
Like a zombie in her favorite gothic novel, Harlow brooded on from class to class,
her focus diminished by the minute. In Flight Class, Master Aviator Ambrose praised
her for making captain, a feat that now left a bitter taste on her tongue. At least
they didn't take to the sky on First Day. She couldn't stomach flying after what
she'd done. Only Mouse seemed more distracted, staring out the classroom window
while holding a rag to his busted lip. Harlow couldn't fathom confronting him about
the rumor. Not with him hunched over and miserable.

When school let out, she and Brier made the slow grueling walk home. Each step
reminded Harlow how they'd be flying home if only the day went as planned. As it
was, Brier wheeled the mangled hover-cycle beside her, going on and on about who
knew what.

". . . and on crutches no less," Brier went on, nearing their house. "You know,
there are less dangerous things to do with your time. Needlework for instance. You
could take up needlework. Knit yourself a nice sweater. Or a hat."

Downcast, Harlow allowed the distance between her and Brier to grow. Her sister's
voice faded ahead. The crutches made her arms ache, and her head throbbed from the
crease in her brow.

"Alright, what happened," Brier asked. She blocked the sidewalk with Harlow's
mangled bike. "You had that same look on you the time you broke my favorite pair of
working goggles. Does this have to do with the Japanese? I went to take them to
their next class, and couldn't believe they were dismissed for the rest of the day.
Come on now, you must know something. You've got guilt oozing from your pores."

Harlow cringed. Brier might as well take a knife to her gut. She moved to the empty
street to sidestep her then staggered onward.

"Harlow, answer me. You're worrying me."

Eyes burning, Harlow wiped her face with her sleeve.

Brier came up beside her and moved her hair back. "Oh, Har, you've got to tell me."

Harlow shook her head and brushed Brier's hand aside.

"Does it have to do with the Japanese blokes?"

With a sigh, Harlow nodded.

"Okay, well it can't be that terrible. I didn't mean you were the sole reason for
their dismissal."

With those words, Harlow's heart lurched. She met her sister's gaze then hobbled
into their house.

The severity of what she'd done washed over her like a flood. Reaching her room,
Harlow slammed the door shut. She threw the crutches down then limped forward,
collapsing on her bed.

I'm such a fool! I let that snake of a man manipulate me.

The image Takashi's shocked face bit at her. He must hate me. Not that she blamed
him. She'd completely ruined everything for him. They'd crossed an ocean to find
that blasted map, and she'd gone and muddled it up.
She flipped over on her bed, gazing at the ceiling through warped tears. To think,
this was supposed to be the day she finally did something right. The day she showed
the world what she was made of. She smacked her forehead with her palm.

Sure showed them alright. Ugh, I wish this day never happened.

"Cuckoo! Cuckoo!"

Her body jerked with a start.

"Cuckoo! Cuckoo!"

That dreadful clock. She propped herself up on her elbows and glared at the cuckoo
clock's black wooden frame, still seated where Father left it and still set to go
off on the hour. The noise snapped something within her. Guilt flared into anger.
She squeezed the stuff in her pillow.

"You! You stupid clock." Her body trembled. A gasp hiccupped her chest. "Why can't
you just . . . ugh . . . be quiet!" Her arm lurched back, and she threw her pillow.
Hard.

Maybe too hard. The pillow knocked the clock clear off the dressing table, sending
it tumbling onto the hardwood floor below and landing with a thunderous crash.
Harlow jumped.

She slid off the bed and crossed the floor to the broken clock. Falling to her
knees, she picked up some of the large black pieces. What had she done? A fresh
wave of guilt coursed through her. In one swoop, she'd broke the only thing that
managed to stay in her family for generations. The last link left of Mother, gone.

She leaned back, rested on the bottom of her bedpost, and hugged her knees, staring
at the rubble.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

The sun began to set behind her, and her room grew dark. She wondered why Brier
didn't come to check on the crash, when a dim blue light emanated from what was
left of the clock.

"What in the world?" she whispered.

She got on her knees to crawl closer. Moving some gears and broken wood, she
uncovered a softly glowing, dusty box. Strange. She may not be a Smith, but she was
pretty confident glowing boxes don't make cuckoo clocks run. On instinct, she
picked up the small box the size of her hand and lifted it to her face. With a puff
of air, she blew off a thick coat of dust on its surface. It was made of some kind
of grey metal with circular blue symbols etched over each side, save one. Unusual
scribbling covered the side without the symbols, encircling a white luminescent
triangle.

As she grazed her right thumb over the triangle, the shape dropped down into the
center of the box with a click. The writing grew brighter and she heard a faint
voice. Curious, she brought the box close to her ear.

". . . to whom I now send you . . ." it said. The deep male voice was practically
inaudible, but surely she heard something. Harlow looked about the room for someone
playing a trick on her and found no one. No one but me and this disembodied voice.
She shook off the shivers and put the box back to her ear. ". . . to open their
eyes, in order to turn them from darkness to light . . ."

The voice trailed off, and she pulled the box away from her face. Not even an inch
from her nose, it spun in her hands. With a yelp, she dropped it, quickly
retreating to her bedpost.

Instead of crashing to the floor, the box froze midair. Her jaw fell. Before she
could make sense of it, the box shook and exploded apart, forming three pieces.
Lifting higher in the air, the pieces spun around each other so fast they blurred
into a circle of hot white. What was going on? Panic coursed through her. She bit
her lip and cringed when abruptly the pieces changed their pace. Slowing. Slowing.
Soon, they floated in thin air as if they'd been dropped in an invisible lake,
stopping ice cold in shape of a triangle.

Pushing fear aside, curiosity dictated her movements. She swallowed her anxiety and
moved in closer. Letters of blue light, like that scribbled on the box, filled the
floating triangle. She squinted to see if she could make out any words. But the
writing was so strange. Nothing she studied in school.

She rubbed her eyes. Either the letters began to grow, or they moved out of the
triangle toward her. Brighter. So bright. The room warmed about her. And then it
happened. Within what felt like a moment, the letters flew at her. She threw up her
arm, covering her face. Light completely enveloped her, pushing her body against
the bed with intense force.

Even with her eyes closed, the red glow behind her lids told her the light
lingered. Only when she was sure it faded did she peep through the space between
her arms. The triangle was gone. Either it had vanished or burnt to ash.

She sat back on her ankles as a peculiar sensation fell over her. The pain, it was
gone. She stretched her leg out, circled her foot, and laughed. Incredible. No pain
at all.

But as she reached out to touch the back of her miraculously healed limb, she once
again saw the blue light. Only this time it didn't emanate from a box. It came from
her. Terrified, she turned her forearms over. The words of light that had moments
ago rained down on her, burned themselves into her skin, and shone brightly.

That did it.

She screamed.

Just a little earlier

Brier Anne sank into the mustard yellow, camel-back sofa and tapped the back of her
head. Impatience and frustration tensed her muscles like the windup spring on a
clockwork motor. Unsolved mysteries were the worst. Right before Harlow had stormed
off to her room, she'd given Brier her classic don't bother me scowl. She needed
alone time. And as much as it pained her, Brier respected that.

But it didn't mean her sister's weird behavior wasn't driving her mad with
curiosity. Sure, Harlow lived like a loose cannon. Her adventure lust held no
bounds, always getting her into trouble. But a little crash and an ankle injury
definitely didn't account for her mood on the walk home. When Brier had asked
Harlow who won the race, she muttered that she had. Muttered! At the very least,
Brier expected a smile. Then there was the fact that Harlow blamed her tears on the
foreigners. It made no sense. The two circumstances lacked any sort of correlation.
Brier dropped further into the couch, determined to stay put until after she came
up with a solution to her sister's predicament. It'd be helpful if I knew what the
predicament was.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The sound at the door jolted her, and she sat up. They weren't expecting any
visitors. Right after first remarks, Father left for a meeting in York. He
shouldn't be back for a fortnight. She walked over to the bay windows, pulled back
the heavy curtains, and nearly jumped out of her skin. The sun set right in her
eyes, so really all she saw was a shock of blonde hair on a dark silhouette. But it
didn't matter. She knew who was at her door.

She ran to the closest mirror, and frowned at her messy brown locks. She had pulled
out her pigtails earlier to be comfortable on the sofa, and now totally regretted
it. Taking the brush she left on the desk, she raced it through her hair.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Um, just a minute!" She pinched her cheeks and checked her teeth. Why is he here?
Of all the days to drop by, he picked the one where she'd been lounging around like
a slob.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door, and there he was. The most handsome,
charming, swoon-worthy boy she'd ever laid eyes on, standing right in front of her.
She couldn't believe it. Felix Goodwin was here, at her home.

And he was angry.

"Afternoon, Brier," he said, pulling off his bowler hat. His near luminescent hair
fell against his forehead like wind blowing through a soft field of wheat-
absolutely perfect. "Mind if I come in?"

"Of course I don't," she said with way too much excitement in her voice. She
coughed in an attempt to tone herself down. "That is, come in." She moved back,
giving him room to enter the foyer.

"Thank you," he said, stepping through the arched doorframe. He circled the rim of
his hat with his hands, and looked about the room as if he expected to find someone
hiding behind the furniture.

A brief silence passed between them before Brier realized she'd forgotten her
manners.

"Sorry. Can I take your hat and coat?"

"Oh, right." He handed her his hat then pulled off his black over coat. She hung
them on the rack behind her, and turned to face him. Her mouth went dry. He tugged
his well fitted charcoal waistcoat taunt over his even better fitting black shirt,
outlining his lean physique. He was stunning. Too bad his face held such a grimace.

"Bet you're wondering why I'm here," he said. "I need to speak with your sister."

"Harlow?" Brier tried to hide her disappointment. So he wasn't here for her. She
mentally kicked herself for assuming any different. "She's here, but she's in a
rotten mood."

Crash!
The sound came from Harlow's room upstairs. Brier glanced up the stairway.

"You see," she said. "Best come again in the morning when she's not so violent."

Felix followed her gaze. "This can't wait. She's done something awful that only she
can fix. I need to talk to her."

"I'm telling you, it's not a good idea. What did she do that can't wait until
morning?"

Felix ran his hands through his mane and paced the foyer. "She told a lie. One that
caused loads of trouble. And we need her to make it right."

"Who's this we? And how do you know so much about what Harlow did when she won't
even tell me? Does this have anything to do with the Japanese blokes?" She didn't
mean to be so probing, but he was in her home demanding an audience with her
emotionally wrecked sister.

He gave her an impatient frown. "Look, Bri. I'll tell you what I can. Yes, it has
to do with the Japanese. Can't believe you didn't hear about it, but Harlow single
handedly got them kicked out of school. She's got to take back that lie. And we've
got to get them back in Featherington, or else-" His words were cut off by his
obvious frustration. Fists clenched, he was ready to boil over.

She put her hands on her hips and pointed her chin up at him. "Or else what?"

"I don't have time for this," he grunted, rolling his eyes. "Or else everything
we've worked for is lost. One lie from Harlow could mean the-"

A bright flash of light burst from upstairs. Brier bent over to rub her eyes. Her
vision blurred and it took more than a moment to recover. When she finally regained
her sight, her sister's voice let loose a scream. Brier's eyes met Felix, and she
bolted up the stairs, with him following close behind.

She rounded the hall and threw open her sister's door. Stopping short, Felix bumped
into her, nearly knocking her over. She paid him little heed as she walked into the
room, mouth agape at the scene before her. Harlow sat in the middle of the floor,
tears streaming down her face and arms covered in some kind of luminescent writing
that lit up the room.

"Harlow? What happened?" she asked, somehow finding her voice.

Harlow lifted her arms, and Brier bent down to hold her hands. "I don't know. I
don't know."

"You found it," Felix said, stepping in the room. Brier looked back to see him with
eyes larger than hers.

"Found what?" she asked.

"The notes of light." He shook himself out of a daze. Looking around, he took
Harlow's dark emerald cloak draped over her vanity and tossed it at her. "Here."

Harlow let go of Brier's hand and caught it before it hit the floor. "What do you
want me to do with this?"

"Put it on. Brier, go find yours as well." He made his way to Harlow's window and
peered out. "And hurry. We don't have much time."
While Harlow obeyed Felix without question, Brier stood her ground. "What's going
on? Where are we going?"

"To put it simply," he said, leaving the window to help Harlow to her feet. "We're
going to run."

Thank you for reading! Please remember to vote if you liked what you've read.

Big chapter! What are the notes of light? How will they play out on Harlow's arms?
And what's up with Felix? Hit me up with your guesses in the comments. -LL

Harlow assumed they'd been running at a grueling pace through London's back alleys
for at least few miles or so. She and Brier, shrouded by their thick cloaks,
blended well with the shadows, while Felix wore nothing to cover himself but his
black coat. Her cloak did a passing job of dampening the light on her arms. But
what really did the trick was the leather working guards Brier used in the Smithy
and had insisted she wear. They covered her from wrists to elbows, laced tightly up
the sides.

Out of breath, she slowed. Blimey, she hated running. She'd take a craft moving at
super-fast speeds over her own two legs any day. Brier and Felix's pace was killing
her. They must have noticed. Brier approached her first with Felix close behind.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Your ankle? I knew we should've taken those crutches."
Brier hadn't believed in her miraculous healing in the slightest. Only after
thoroughly examining the injury and making Harlow hop on her right foot alone did
she consent to leaving the crutches behind.

Harlow shook her head. "No . . . just . . . need to . . . catch my breath."

Felix looked down the road then to her. "I know we're moving quickly, Har, but we
can't linger."

"And why not?" Brier asked, looking up at him with furrowed brows. "You've had us
running all over London, but haven't told us why. Harlow and I aren't moving
without an explanation." She crossed her arms over her chest, probably thinking she
seemed stern. Harlow knew better. All Felix had to do was give Brier a wink and
she'd instantly do his bidding.

"Fine," he gave in. "When all that light came out of Harlow's room, some of it had
to escape through the windows. Most might pass it off as lightning, but the people
we're currently running from both know the difference and are actively trying to
destroy the notes. On a host or not. Trust me. If they found us at your house, it
wouldn't be good. Can we get going now?" He grabbed Harlow's arm and tugged.

"No we will not," said Brier. She yanked on Harlow's other arm. "You're going to
tell us how you know so much about whatever this is on Harlow's arms, who you're
working with, and how we can trust any of you."

Felix pulled again, stretching Harlow like a rope in a cruel game of tug of war.
"Yeah, Bri, because right now is a great time to discuss the inner workings of my
organization. Here's the short version. We're the good guys. They're the bad guys.
And you can trust me because, despite the fact that I don't tell you everything,
you know me. Think that counts for something."

His gaze locked onto hers, intense and uncomfortable. The alley got real awkward
real fast. Harlow cringed. They'd either throttle each other or start kissing with
her sandwiched between. Bleh. "Um, mind if I have my arms back?" The nauseous spell
broken, they apologized and released her.

Harlow lowered her hood from her head.

"Well, we're far away from our house now. Let's just wait whoever these people are
out then."

Felix flung her hood back on. "Not a chance. I know some of them and what they can
do. It won't be long before-" He went still, only his eyes darting this way and
that. His motionlessness so sudden Harlow and Brier didn't dare move either.

"Right over there," said a male voice echoing through the dank alleys. "Says it's
in that alley." The owner of the voice was only a few yards away at best.

Felix took hold of their hands. He led them behind a large metal skip a little
further away used for storing garbage. "Too late for running now," he whispered.
"They'll catch us for sure."

"How'd they find us?" Harlow asked.

"They can track the light whether or not they can see it. Until we get you
somewhere safe, they'll always be able to find you." Felix glanced around the skip
then shuffled closer to them. "Okay, I think there are only two. Brier, did you
bring what I asked?"

Brier nodded, pulling out two peculiar brass knuckles. "These are just prototypes.
I'm not sure how they'll react with your grip. Are you positive there's no other--"

"No, there isn't. I'll fight them off if I have to. Now how do I use this?"

Brier shook her head and sighed. "If you insist on getting in a fight, tighten your
fists to push these buttons on the inside. If it works, it should increase your
strength tenfold."

Felix put the knuckles on his fingers. "Did anyone ever tell you how brilliant you
are?" From forehead to chin, Brier's face flushed. "Stay here, both of you.
Whatever happens, do not move until I return. If I'm not back within ten minutes,
run to the third building on the next street over."

"What do you mean if you're not back?" Harlow asked.

Without answering, he vanished around the skip.

The hair on Harlow's arms stood on end. Eeriness shot down her spine as the air
around them grew cold. It wasn't this frigid earlier, but now white puffs blew past
her lips with each breath. "What's going on?" she whispered to her sister. "Do you
feel that?"

Brier rubbed her shoulders. "I do. Harlow, look," she said, pointing through the
crack between the skip and the wall behind it.
Harlow came up behind her and saw Felix walking toward two dark figures. One was a
large brute, while the other, a tall and lanky fellow, matched Felix's height
perfectly as he twirled his cane. They both wore fashionable top hats and pitch
black coats with a dark red emblem on their shoulders in the shape of a dragon.
Their hats concealed their faces in shadow.

As they approached Felix, the lanky one struck the bottom of his cane to the ground
and leaned forward on it. "Ah, Felix. Out for a little stroll are you? What brings
such an upstanding gentleman such as yourself to a dark neighborhood like this I
ask?"

"I might ask you the same thing, Mortimer, but we both know you are neither
upstanding, nor a gentleman. Cut the games. You and I know why we're here."

Mortimer? Mortimer Charleston? Harlow blinked. The chap certainly had the same
build as the boy she'd seen around school once or twice.

He let out a humorless laugh. "Well then, if you know what we want, then you're
either very brave or more of a half-whit than I imagined. Tell us where the notes
are and we might let you go in one piece."

"You might? Wow, you know, you really strike a hard bargain, but I'll pass. Think
I'll take my chances against you and Otto."

The two boys snickered. "Who said we're alone?" asked Mortimer.

Out from the shadows appeared four figures-one female-draped in the same black
clothing as the other two, minus the hats. They quickly surrounded Felix.

"You used shadow travel?" asked Felix in disgust. "Do you have any idea what you're
messing with?"

"Of course we do, you twit." This came from the dark haired girl behind him. "It's
the fastest way to get where you need to go. The arts are a strong source of
power."

"Too right," Mortimer sneered. "Looks like the odds are stacking up against you,
mate. Last chance. You want to ever use those legs of yours again, you'll tell us
where the box is."

Felix held his ground. "Never."

"All right then. Otto?"

Otto threw off his coat, revealing a large dragon tattooed on his bare chest. Wings
sprawled out and head covered in horns. Otto squeezed his muscles--which Harlow
imagined made up ninety percent of his body--as the dragon began to glow red. If it
were possible, his muscles grew larger and larger. He stomped his way toward Felix.

"See here," Felix said, stepping back. "It doesn't have to be like this Otto. I've
got to protect the light, so just back away now and no one gets hurt."

"That's a good one!" Otto laughed. "Tiny little bugger you are." With that, he
punched Felix square in the chin, sending him flying. He hit the ground hard.
Harlow and Brier gasped.

Felix pushed himself up, licking the blood dripping from his lip. "You're strong,
I'll give you that," he said. Fists clenched, steam shot out the sides of the
knuckles as his hands shook. "Leave now, all of you. This doesn't have to go any
further. No one has to get hurt."

"So says the tosser who just got his face knocked in." Mortimer lifted his cane
behind his head, placed it on his shoulders, and rested both wrists on the ends.
"One more chance. Give us what we want. Now."

Felix shook his head.

"Alright then. Guess we'll do it the fun way." Mortimer nodded to Otto, and the boy
rushed forward, jabbing his fist once more at Felix's head. But Felix parried the
blow and punched him in the jaw. Steam burst from the knuckles on contact. Spit and
blood gushed from Otto's mouth.

"You rotter," he said, spitting something on the ground, "you'll pay for that
tooth." This time he charged Felix with more force, throwing blow after blow. A few
punches hit Felix on the side and the gut, but most were dodged by Felix's quick
movements. Pivoting around the brute, Felix kicked his leg behind Otto's knees.
Otto landed on his massive backside with a booming thud, hitting his head on
impact. The giant looked out for the count.

Harlow breathed a sigh of relief a little too soon. Just as Felix bent over to
catch his breath, Mortimer raised his cane high and pointed it downward at the
other end. With a twist of his wrist, he struck Felix on the side of the head.

Felix doubled backward, not having enough time to recover before Mortimer struck
him again. Wack! Wack! Harlow's muscles tensed with each blow. But when Mortimer
sent his cane down again, Felix snatched the thing with his left hand and hooked
Mortimer with his right fist.

Harlow looked away, unable to stomach the violence. It was then, in the distance,
she noticed the dark haired girl chanting something. The girl's voice grew louder,
and she lifted her arms above her head.

"What the? Did you see that girl just now?" Harlow whispered to her sister.

"What girl?" Brier asked without bothering to look. "Oh no, poor Felix."

Harlow rolled her eyes then looked back at the girl. There was something familiar
about her. "I think I've seen her before," she said.

"How could you possibly know any of these people?"

"I don't know, but I trust my eyes." If Harlow didn't trust her eyesight so much,
she wouldn't have believed what she saw next. Long green snakes slithered out of
the shadows by the girl's feet.

"Woah, do you see those?" she said, pointing to the ground by the girl.

"What? Where?"

Only after she said it did Harlow realize her mistake. Brier, dreadfully afraid of
snakes, let out a squeal that got the attention of the boy closest to them. Harlow
threw her hand over her sister's mouth. They remained as quiet and still as they
could until the boy turned back to watch the fight.

"Sorry," Brier whispered when Harlow lowered her hand. "Those things are
disgusting. Wait, are they going after Felix?"

"Think so. And that girl's somehow controlling them."

"How can that be? I don't see any animal charmer technology on her."

"Brier, I'm pretty sure she doesn't need any technology. Those blokes are Magics."

"Magics, but I thought sorcery was outlawed. Oh, look, Felix has the mean one in a
head lock," Brier whispered, likely meaning Mortimer, though Harlow had a hard time
singling any of them out as the mean one.

"Enough," Felix said to the rest of them. "The Light will come back into this world
eventually. It's only a matter of time."

"The Light will never come back, Goodwin," said one of the other boys, closing in
on him. "We'll make sure of that."

Just then, two snakes wrapped around Felix's legs, yanking him off Mortimer. He hit
the ground and clawed the street. "More . . . of your magic . . . I presume."
Felix's words came out with a struggle as he tried to pull away from the snakes.

"She is using magic." Brier nudged Harlow, as if she said something Harlow didn't
mention first.

"I know."

"We have to do something."

Harlow bit her lip. Brier was absolutely right. Cowering behind this skip was
stupid. But what could she do? Just then, the Magic girl stepped forward, and the
light from the gaslamps reflected off her round glasses. Harlow gasped. She'd
recognize that heart shaped face and unforgettable sneer anywhere.

Josephine! Knew I'd seen her before. And she has the gal to call me a cheating
Magic? Harlow turned to give the girl a piece of her mind, but someone pushed her
back down, resting a hand over her mouth. It was a good thing too as the shock made
her shriek. The boy kneeling before her held a finger to his mouth then lowered his
other hand from her lips. "Shhhh."

"Takashi?" she whispered confused at his presence.

"Harlow, Brier-san?" He seemed as bewildered as she was, but not in the same way.
His eyes narrowed and his lower jaw stuck out. He looked furious to see her.
"What's going on? I heard some noises and saw you hiding over here."

"Takashi, thank goodness you're here," Brier cried behind her. "It's terrible.
They've got Felix trapped with snakes. Snakes! I don't know how much longer he can
take this. We've got to help him."

Takashi sat back on his feet. "Hold on. Did you say Felix?"

Harlow nodded. "Felix Goodwin. His sister is a good friend of mine. He came to our
house because, well . . . I don't know why, but he dragged us out here to protect
us from these crazies, but just look at him." Takashi eased backward to lean his
head around the skip as she spoke. He turned back to look at her, his face sour and
his brows bent into a deep V. She sucked in a breath. There was no way this bloke
was going to help them after what she pulled. "Look, I know you're angry with me. I
mean, you've got every right. But I'm really sorry and-"

"Not the time, Harlow. Stay here," he ordered before standing. "Don't do anything
crazy." With those words, he abandoned them.
Don't do anything crazy? Offended, Harlow watched him march away from the skip
toward the Magics. No longer dressed in the foreign drapes he had on earlier, he
now wore modern English clothing, with a slate grey waistcoat over his blue and
white striped shirt and black trousers. He tied some of his hair back, but a good
portion flew about his face. Surely, her heart raced from the fury she felt at his
command, and not from the way he moved in those clothes.

"Let him go," Takashi demanded. The thugs turned at his voice.

"Who the blazes are you?" Mortimer asked, twirling his cane about.

"Doesn't matter. Just evening things up a bit."

The red headed boy stepped forward. "Didn't anyone teach you to mind your own
business in that country of yours?"

"As a matter of fact, they did. But I'm a slow learner," Takashi smirked. "Now for
the last time, let him go."

"Not a chance. Step off," the redhead said, closing the gap between them.

"You know, I'm really tired of people telling me to step off." Takashi put his
fists up and bent his knees.

"Have it your way."

The bloke jabbed out at Takashi's chest. Takashi's hands flew forward, grabbing the
boy's fist. With a quick turn the opposite way, he forced the boy's body to flip in
the air and land on the ground. Standing over him, Takashi twisted his arm back
then landed a flat blow on his side.

Josephine tightened her clawed out fists, and with them the snakes constricted
around Felix's legs, causing him to cry out. Brier gasped, gripping Harlow's elbow.
Takashi barreled forward, but one of the other blokes blocked his charge. He kicked
his leg out, aiming at Takashi's waist, but like before, Takashi reacted quickly.
He took hold of the boy's foot, and twisted him to the ground.

Too occupied with subduing the boy, Takashi didn't see Mortimer approach from
behind. With his cane, Mortimer struck him on the neck, side, and legs in three
quick motions. Takashi dropped to his knees then flipped over to face him.

"Bet that hurt." Mortimer bounced back on his heels, resting his cane on the back
of his neck. "And I don't think this'll feel any better." He raised his cane,
preparing to strike.

Quicker than lightning, Takashi pulled out a small metal object from his trouser
pocket. He snapped his wrist, extending it into a long metal pole. Just as
Mortimer's cane descended, Takashi blocked it with the pole, holding it at both
ends. He pushed Mortimer off of him, standing in the process. Mortimer bent his
knees, held his cane up, and pulled his elbow backward. Takashi held his pole
straight in the air with his hands together at his waist.

Mortimer charged first. Takashi blocked and dodged each blow, but not with ease.
They battled loud and fast, as wooden cane met metal pole. Their movements flowed
more like dancing than fighting. In several quick steps, Takashi pinned Mortimer
against a wall.

"I suppose you're pretty good at La Canne," Mortimer huffed. He leaned forward.
"But, I'm better." He kicked his legs under Takashi's, sending him on his back.
Mortimer tossed his cane and jumped forward. Within seconds, he pummeled Takashi's
face with his fists.

Each pound turned Harlow's stomach. "That's it. I'm not watching this anymore." She
stood, breaking free of Brier's grasp.

"Wa-where are you going?" her sister asked. The watery hurt in Brier's eyes
traveled back and forth from her to Felix, making Harlow's decision clear. Sure,
Felix dragged them out there, but if it weren't for her, none of them would be in
this mess. And Takashi was off his rocker if he thought she'd cower there like a
good little girl, doing nothing while he got the tar beaten out of him.

"If it's me they want, it's a whole lot of me they'll get." Clenching her fists,
she charged around the protection of the skip. "Stop!" she hollered.

Either Mortimer didn't hear her or he didn't care.

"Stop! Stop it right now!" She ran up to the bloke, and pushed him off Takashi.
"I'm the one you're looking for," she yelled, her cloak hood still covering her
face.

Mortimer stared blankly at her, Josephine dropped her hands, and with them the
snakes transformed back to sticks falling off Felix in echoing clacks.

Harlow unlaced the leather working guards from her forearms, and tossed them away.
"Leave my friends alone. You came for me." She raised her arms over her head. The
words on her arms shone brightly as they had before, warming. In a flash, her arms
were on fire. An intense light burst forth, pushing her back.

Unable to control the power surging within her, she collapsed. Her world went
white.

If you've like what you've read, please remember to vote!

I've done some major editing to this chapter to make sure Harlow remains
consistent. If you're a writer, what was the hardest revision you ever had to make?
Were you happy with the outcome? Let me know in the comments.

Wrapped in a blanket of white nothingness, warm air swirled and pressed on Harlow
from all sides. A strange fuzz tingled up her body, from her wrists to the back of
her neck. Ever so slowly, she opened the slits of her eyes. Her world blurred in
and out of focus. She blinked several times, expecting to wake in the cold wet
London alley she blacked out in, but the more her eyes adjusted to her
surroundings, the more reality toppled over on itself. Gone were the gaslight
lampposts, the grey gloomy skies, and the stench of smoke billowing from chimneys.
Enormous oaks replaced the rear sides of brick buildings, enclosing her in a
bizarre tree huddle. The night itself retreated from the sunshine burning her
vision.
Something odd slid between her fingers. Harlow sat up. Instead of the rocky gravel
of the alley, thick green grass tickled her skin. Where the blazes am I? Birds
chirped, and a brook bubbled in the distance.

Getting to her feet, she looked down to find herself dressed in an unfamiliar,
brown linen dress. Her grip on reality shifted when her body rebelled against her
mind, pulling her through the forest without permission. Stepping over brush with
her bare feet, she soon came to a circular clearing. Branches and leaves from the
trees above created a canopy-like roof over the clearing where only one ray of
light poked through, forming a spotlight on a small white lamb.

Harlow rubbed her eyes. Most girls her age wouldn't be amazed at a farm animal. But
this being her first time to see one in person, she felt like a child. Father never
let her or Brier anywhere close to a farm-afraid they might take a liking to
farming and peruse it instead of more distinguishable careers, like tinkering on
gadgets in a dusty dark smithy.

No thanks.

The urge to move closer to the creature overcame her, either out of curiosity or
spite.

"Baaahhhh!" the lamb bleated and hopped into the woods.

She ran after it. Dodging in and out of trees, it kept a good ten yard distance on
her. She ran so hard her legs burned.

How can the little thing move so fast?

When it felt like they'd been running for hours, and the distance between her and
the lamb had grown, without warning the lamb stopped. Startled, she tried to do the
same, but her own momentum yanked her forward. Her feet somewhat found purchase
mere inches before the ground below sank into a deep chasm. Arms flailing, she
regained balance. Her heart raced at the tiny space from her feet to the pit. Down,
down it dropped, into a gigantic hole of nothing. If the gorge had a bottom, she
couldn't see it.

Her eyes lifted, searching for the spot she last saw the lamb. Across the enormous
gap it stood, bleating and kicking its legs. How on earth did it get over there?
Not that it mattered. There was no way she'd catch it now.

Taking a step back from the edge, something hot brushed her ankles. A thick cloud
of steam swirled into her field of vision, and her head dropped to find its source.
A good few feet below, a scaly red snout the size of her head emerged from the inky
black. She shuffled further back. Long knives of teeth accompanied the muzzle. Her
heart jumped into her throat. Digging its claws into the earth, a fully-fledged
dragon arose from the deep. It towered above her some twenty or so feet up, puffs
of steam escaping its crimson scales and clenched jaw. Fear churned her movements.
Her heel caught the hump of a log, and she collapsed onto her back. The dragon
lowered its head, eyes the shade of furnace fire burning into her soul. She
scrambled back, but it was too late. The beast sucked in a breath and snorted out a
cloud of smoke white and opaque. It enveloped her. She slammed her eyes shut and
swung her arms to push away the fog.

"Harlow?" A faint female voice called over the rumble of dragon breath.

She flinched. Something brushed against her arm. Not the fangs of a monster, but
the touch of human skin.
"Harlow, can you hear me?" the voice asked again.

Harlow's brows furrowed. She knew that voice. "What, what's going on?" Groggy, her
eyes opened. A blur of a woman's face met her, curly brown hair dangling past her
cheeks. No longer outside, small gas-lamps lit the room. The dragon, the pit, the
lamb-all gone.

"And there you have it!" exclaimed the woman, clapping her hands together. "Chalk
another one up to science. I knew this coma reverser would work splendidly."

Harlow's eyes went wide. Standing over her was Nurse Albright, fiddling with wires
stuck to Harlow's head.

"You are quite the accident prone young lady," Nurse Albright said, pulling off a
wire from Harlow's forehead. She wiped her thumb across the circular pad at the end
of the line before pulling on another wire. "A sprained ankle one day and an all-
out comma after that. Not that I'm complaining, no. Any excuse to try out a new
machine is a good one I always say."

Should I be thanking her or asking her to leave?

Harlow couldn't do much of anything at the moment. Not only was she hooked up to
the nurse's clunky box machine, her body was also tucked tightly into the sheets of
a narrow bed.

Harlow craned her neck to peer past the woman. They weren't alone. Several
silhouetted figures filled the room. Harlow batted away the fog from her vision,
and Felix came into view, gesturing her to be quiet. Behind him, stood Takashi and
Miss Himura, looking on with expressions Harlow couldn't place. How did they all
get in her house? She looked about the room at the unfamiliar striped wallpaper,
rounded windows, and foreign tapestries of mountain landscapes. This wasn't her
home.

How'd I get here?

"That should do it." Nurse Albright stuffed the small machine and the remaining
wires into a carrying bag. "Well, before I'm off, I suppose I should examine your
vital signs. If you'll give me your wrist please-"

"That won't be necessary." Felix stepped between them. "I mean, we wouldn't want
you to waste such a perfectly good afternoon on those tedious tasks. We'll take
care of her. Promise."

The woman nodded her head, satisfied at his ridiculous statement. "So be it, young
man. Harlow, I'm glad to see you've recovered. Goodwin, if you don't mind. Escort
me home."

"My pleasure." Felix put on his cap and led her out of the room.

"Harlow my dear." Miss Himura emerged from the corner of the room, coming up beside
Harlow's bed. Like Takashi, she dressed in more western clothing. Yet the white
blouse, red corset, and full skirt didn't cover an ounce of her exotic beauty. "You
have been through quite an ordeal. Oh, let me get that for you." She pulled out the
sheets, setting Harlow's arms free. "There you are. As you can see, we didn't tell
Miss Albright everything. For now, it is best to use discretion."

Oh right, my arms. Harlow pulled herself up to a seated position and looked down.
Brier's working guards clung tightly against her skin, dousing the light. So, they
didn't want Nurse Albright to see them, but Miss Himura had no problem with glowing
limbs? Felix may have called them notes of light, but she was certain they were the
maps Takashi wanted.

"You must be famished. I will go downstairs and prepare you some hot soup." She
opened the door, leaving Harlow in the room with Takashi.

Alone.

He leaned against the wall in front of the bed. His arms crossed and his leg bent.
He eyed her, standing there with some kind of passive disinterest. Harlow tensed.
Unease inched itself through her with him staring at her all blank faced. Was he
still furious with her? She hoped not, but he definitely didn't jump for joy at her
presence.

"Feeling better?" he asked, before setting his lips into a straight line.

Harlow swallowed at the sight of him. He wore a fitted light green shirt with a few
buttons undone near his neck. His black trousers were held up by equally black
suspenders. No longer pulled back, his midnight hair brushed against long lashes,
where his intense ebony gaze worked on her nerves.

Despite the purple bruise under his left eye, he was striking. She wished she
looked half as good, but doubted it. Who knew how long she'd been in this bed. She
must smell awful. Oh no, hope he can't smell me.

"Not sure. I'd love to know where I am," she said with as much indifference as
possible.

"You're in my apartment," he said, dropping his arms to the side. He pushed himself
off the wall and moved toward her. His stride slowed and held a hint of swagger.
"We brought you here after you passed out." He gave a slight pause. "Two days ago."

"Two days!" She threw off the covers and looked down. Instead of the clothes she
wore on First Day, she was dressed in a thick white sleeping gown. The neckline
plunged just below her collarbone in a swoop, and the lack of sleeves left her
shoulders bare. Mortified, she pulled the sheets up immediately. Her clothes from
before were folded neatly on the side chair next to the bed. "And who changed my
clothes? Tell me it wasn't you."

Takashi stumbled forward at her remark. His face reddened. "N-no, no, of course
not. Sensei Himura took care of you the whole time. She hardly let us in here."

"That's a relief." The edginess she had around this boy did nothing but grow from
the moment she met him. She'd be humiliated if she found out if he had . . . ugh,
she didn't want to think about it. Brier would never let her live it down if
anything had happened.

Brier!

"Where's Brier? What happened to those Magics who attacked us?"

"Calm down. Your sister's fine," Takashi said, coming up beside the bedpost. "The
notes either displaced them, or blinded them so badly they took off with their
tails between their legs. Don't know for sure, but when your friends and I woke, we
were the only ones in that alley. We had to take you here. Your sister went back
home. Felix says she's worried about you."

Harlow's back straightened. "Well, then, if you don't mind, I'd like to get changed
and get back to her. I appreciate all you've done for me, but there's no reason to
keep me here."

Instead of leaving the room, he gripped the metal post.

"Actually, there's a very big reason you should stay," he said, pointing to the
working guards.

"Oh really, and what's that? This rubbish on my arms? Yeah, you forgot to let me in
on that little detail. Treasure map indeed! Both you and my father have so much
explaining to do, it's unbelievable. But you know, whatever examination you plan on
conducting, it can wait. I want to see my sister now."

"Treasure map?" he blurted. She scooted to the edge of the bed and he rushed to her
side. Slamming his hand down beside her hip, he blocked her escape with his body.
"Harlow, you don't understand," he said with haste. "If you leave this place now,
you'll be tracked down and captured. You can't step one foot out of this
apartment."

"So I'm stuck here? Forever? This is ludicrous," she said. She just met this bloke,
and he wanted her to stay at his apartment? Not a chance. She stuck her chin out,
defiant. "Why should I believe you?"

"Ha! That's a good one." He threw a hand above his head. Maybe she'd gone too far.
His eyes narrowed, and he edged uncomfortably close to her. "I would think the best
reason for believing me is that, unlike someone who has no problem destroying the
hopes of others, I have not lied to you."

And there it was. "Takashi, I-"

"Here you are." The door opened before she could properly apologize. Miss Himura
entered, holding a tray topped with steaming soup.

Takashi moved back, the heat from his eyes not cooling a bit.

"Miso soup is a favorite of mine. I hope you like it," Miss Himura said, moving
past Takashi and handing Harlow a bowl filled with some kind of white squares
floating about in a broth.

"Takashi, could you leave us for a moment?" Miss Himura asked, taking a seat on the
foot of the bed.

"Gladly," he said through clenched teeth. He bowed and left the room, slamming the
door behind him.

Miss Himura looked at the closed door then back at Harlow. "I wonder what has him
so upset."

"Me." A little relieved at Takashi's absence, Harlow grabbed the wide spoon and
sipped some of the soup. "Wow, this is good." She took another sip. It warmed her.

"I'm glad you like it. I do not have any English soups, so I hoped this would do."

"Better than that. It's wonderful."

Miss Himura smiled. "Harlow-chan? Why do you think you are the cause of Takashi's
temper?"

"Honestly, I don't know why you're not upset with me too. Because of me you lost
your position at Featherington."
Miss Himura leaned back. "Ahh, so that is it."

Harlow nodded, taking another sip of soup. "I am so sorry. I should have told the
truth. You just don't know how hard it is with these people. No one cares about
anything but stupid reputations. Father especially. If they accused him, he'd be
ruined. I didn't know what to do, I just, I'm so sorry."

"What is done is done," said Ms. Himura with a soothing wave. "All is forgiven."

Harlow blinked. "Really?"

"Of course. It is in the past. We must now look to the future."

Liking Miss Himura more and more, Harlow smiled then took to eating in larger spoon
fills.

"I do not wish to be too forward," Miss Himura said after a moment, "but may I see
your arms? They glowed dimly while you were asleep. I'd like to see what they look
like now that you're awake."

"Yeah, of course." Harlow unlaced the leather straps and took off the guards. Blue
light glistened from the words, not nearly as strong as the night in the alley, but
still bright.

"Amazing." Miss Himura pulled out some tinted spectacles from her pocket, placed
them on the bridge of her nose, and leaned in. "I hope it didn't hurt too badly on
implantation."

"You mean when I got them? Um, maybe a little, but they feel fine now."

Miss Himura turned Harlow's arms over and back again. She followed the writing,
starting from the bottom and working her way to the top.

"Do you know what it says?" Harlow asked.

"No. I wish I did, but it is in a very ancient language."

"How long's it going to be on me? Do you know how to get it off?"

Releasing her arms, Miss Himura sat back and took off the spectacles. "Harlow, you
are the first host in at least a hundred years that we know of. We do not fully
know how the map or the light itself works."

Harlow's shoulders slumped.

"Do not be alarmed." Miss Himura took hold of her hand. "The inventor of the notes
passed his knowledge down in his bloodline. When we have all the notes together,
they should lead us to his heir. If we find him, he may be able to find our
artifact and answer your questions."

"Okay. Then we've got to find this bloke. Where are the other, um, notes?"

"You see, child, that is where we need your help. Our instructions point us back to
Featherington."

"And you can't go back until your name's cleared."

"Sadly, we cannot. Your friend, Felix, is a part of an underground organization

aimed to help us find the other notes of light. He and Takashi were on their way to
your house that night in hopes you might retract your charge."

"So that's why he was there. I can't believe Felix hid that from us." Harlow moved
her hand from under Miss Himura's to rub her aching forehead. It was like she
didn't know him at all.

"Some things are safer if they remain hidden," said Miss Himura. "This apartment
for instance. The people who hunted you down in the alleyway are scattered about
this city. And they can track the notes if opened. But not here." She pointed up to
the vertical rectangular stones tucked away in the four corners of the room's
ceiling. "These devices from my country dampen the energy signals the notes
radiate. We even have much smaller devices we planned on injecting a host with to
keep them safe from those who would seek them harm. But we needed you awake before
we took such measures. Injections are completely voluntary."

Harlow ran a thumb along the light spilling from her skin. Takashi's stubbornness
that she stay made more sense now. "Even if I let you inject me, those blokes go to
my school. Won't they just remember me from the alley?"

"They may, though Felix believes they did not get a good look at you or your
sister. He has assessed the school, and assures us it is safe for your return.
Apparently we are their targets, not you."

"I thought they wanted my father's position," Harlow said, tying the guards back
up. She sunk her face into her palms. "What a mess. I'll issue a retraction first
thing in the morning. I hope it'll do good, but ugh . . . last time Mr. Bartlett
coerced someone into lying for his benefit, he ignored everything they said when
they changed their mind. Threw the bloke out of his office and told him to never to
bring it up again. If the whole rumor was just to get at you and he's in on it,
he'll stick to it, lie or not." She sighed. "If only it were Mr. Whittle that day
and not Mr. Bartlett. None of this would have happened."

"Mr. Whittle? Do you know him?"

"Only a little, why?"

"He is one of our patrons here. He was responsible for getting me a position at
Featherington, though we have not met. He was on vacation, I believe, when we
arrived."

Harlow's smile returned. "You know, I think if I can talk with him, I know he can
help us. He has more authority than Mr. Bartlett ever did."

Miss Himura's eyes sparkled. "That is wonderful! Do you know where to find him?"

"No, but I know someone who does."

"Who?"

"Mouse."

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter in Harlow's adventure.
Please remember to vote if you liked what you've read. I'd love to hear from you,
so please leave a comment.

Harlow has a crazy dream this chapter. Tell me, what was the weirdest dream you've
ever had?

For the first time, Harlow felt more like an outcast at school than at home. Her
classmates' stares burned her skin from every angle. It had been three days since
she last stepped foot in Featherington. Two of which were the weekend, so she
really only missed one day. The rumors about her must've been real creative for
this much attention. Or maybe they were spreading new rumors when some of her
school-mates watched how quick Mr. Bartlett was at dismissing her from his office.
Just as she thought, her retraction was useless. He'd barely listened to a word of
it, shoving her out the door as quickly as he could.

She rubbed the tender spots on the insides of her wrists. At least it was autumn,
and she wore her long golden sleeved blouse, covering the two things that could
really get their tongue's wagging. If the notes of light on her forearms weren't
bad enough, two coin shaped bruises darkened her skin where she'd allowed Miss
Himura to inject the minuscule anti-tracking devices.

In hindsight, Harlow probably should have told the woman how easily she bruised
before she let her jab her with a two inch needle. Brier had always loved how she
tinged up with a single touch. She'd poke Harlow for fun when they were younger
just to see how long it took her skin to turn blue. It was then Harlow had given
her the nickname Thorns, but Brier kept on anyway. Harlow couldn't go near her
sister without looking like she'd fallen in a rose bush.

Though, at the moment, she'd give anything to navigate the hall with her pestering
twin. At least then she'd have someone to chat with. But Brier had classes across
campus right then, and Harlow had the hardest time finding Carolina. Though one
time she did spot her and called her name, but Carolina hadn't heard and kept
walking.

From Literature to Historical Studies, each class flew by in a blur. Luckily, the
one time she walked past a Magic from that night, he looked at her blank faced,
like nothing had happened. Maybe they hadn't had a good look at her or Brier after
all. But the encounter left her frazzled. In Miss Mayberry's algebra class, she was
called on twice, and both times answered "twenty-four", which was apparently a dumb
answer when asked to list the alphabetic variables in a polynomial.

By the time Flight Class rolled around, Harlow had run over her speech for Mouse at
least a dozen times in her head. Each time more ridiculous than the last. Hopefully
she'd come up with something better on the fly.

Without anyone to talk to in the halls, she arrived a good ten minutes before class
began. Before long, the room filled with pilots, navigators, and engineers. None of
them sneered at her in judgement. It was nice to see they weren't a hoard of
gossipmongers like her other schoolmates. A few even said "hello" and "missed you
yesterday". But not Mouse. With the corners of his mouth bent down, he stormed past
her without as much as a head nod.

Harlow groaned. There's no way I'm going to get him to help me.

"Good day students." Dressed in the Academy's scarlet colored, double-breasted

jacket, Master Aviator Ambrose shimmied through the classroom door. Over his
shoulder, he carried a bulbous burlap bag. He squeezed between the two-sided
chalkboard and his desk, and unloaded the bag onto the surface with a thud.

"Good day," the students replied in unison. They stretched their necks to see what
Master Aviator brought.

"I hope you all had light lunches," he said, running a hand through his greying
hair. Turning the bag over, he emptied its contents on his desk, letting lose the
spoils. Clank! Clank! Clank! Small copper and black bird-like machines toppled out
and collided with each other and the desk. "Does anyone know what these are?"

As if anyone didn't. All eyes brightened as the toys ceased their roll.

"Sparrows!" the class exclaimed.

"Correct. I'm glad you know your children's toys," he said, then rubbed his
whiskered chin. "Although, why you're all so excited to play with them is beyond
me. I guess we'll save our flight training for another day."

A disappointed moan filled the room.

"No? Don't want to play with these? Shame. My son will be so upset. He couldn't
contain himself when he heard big kids would be playing with his toys today. But,
if you'd rather fly real sparrows, I'll let him down easy."

A bubble of excitement exploded in the class. Boys hooted, girls clapped, and
Harlow grinned. She couldn't believe her luck. Sparrows, the life-sized flying
machines the toys represented, required only two people per aircraft. One pilot.
One engineer. As flight captain, she'd be the first to choose her engineer. And she
knew exactly who to pick.

"Alright," said Master Ambrose. "To the hangar. We'll pick our sparrows and
partners there."

Harlow fought the urge to skip from the classroom to the Academy's metal craft
shelter. Of all the ships she had piloted, sparrows were by far her favorite--fast,
agile, and the most beautiful of all aircrafts. Captaining large airships had its
rewards, but flying sparrows was downright fun.

A waft of motor oil saturated the hangar. As was custom, she and the other students
sniffed the air, anticipating the day's flight. At the other end of the building,
Master Ambrose paused in front of a group of six birds. Their long wings rested
against their copper-plated oblong bodies, extending to their tails. Two circular
windshields were easily seen on each side with the third shield between them,
resembling the grey crown on a house sparrow.

"As you've already guessed by now, there aren't enough sparrows for everyone," said
Master Ambrose. Grumbles and huffs followed his words. "There's no need to fret.
Those of you who can't fly today will be down here with me." He winked. "Taking
score."

"We get to play bird games?" squeaked Piper, her short hair tossed from a giddy
hop.

"Yes, Miss Heartsworth, we'll be playing a bird game. This particular game will
involve an invasion on an enemy base. For those of you who've done your studies,
why are sparrows used for military and espionage purposes?"

"Because they're ornithopters," answered Lucius.

"That's right. Sparrows are designed with uniquely moving wings. Unlike any other
aircraft, they actually imitate the flapping of bird's wings. This causes them to
have greater maneuverability and low engine noise due to gained efficiency during
flight. And from a distance, they resemble birds, not planes or dirigibles, making
them a less conspicuous target."

"When do we decide who gets to fly them?" someone asked behind Harlow.

"Ahh, so my little speech has gone in one ear and out the other," said Master
Ambrose. "Can't blame a bloke for trying to teach something in his class. I suppose
it's no use when the lot of you are reeling with enthusiasm. Let's get to it then."

Master Ambrose called out the names of those who would pilot and had them stand in
a row beside him. As expected, he called Harlow's name first.

"Miss Morgan, who would you like to accompany you?"

She glanced over at Mouse. Unlike everyone else, his face dripped with boredom from
the whole ordeal. Below his curly brown hair, he wore dark round spectacles. Both
hands stuffed in his flight jacket, he slouched on a nearby sparrow. Whether or not
he wanted to go with her, she had to pick him. She needed his help.

"Mouse."

Mouse stood. He flicked the toothpick he was chewing behind him. "Have it yer way
cap'n. Let's jus' hope there ain't no surprises this time."

Lovely. He still thinks I cheated in the maze.

"Okay, gather 'round," said Master Ambrose, after all the co-captains were chosen.
"This particular bird game will challenge your military maneuvering and weaponry
skills. I know most of you are in this class simply to learn to fly, but these
skills are quite practical for future careers.

"We will divide into groups of two. Your primary objective is to fly your bird from
your base to the other team's base. The other objective is to cover the opposite
team with as much ammunition as possible."

"Um, Master Ambrose, you want us to shoot each other down?" Sweat formed on Lucius'
brow.

"No, I don't think your parents would let me keep my job if we did that. We'll use
paint as our ammunition. Red for one team. Blue for the other. The team that
arrives at their destination with the least amount of paint on their sparrows wins.

"Those in the game will take their birds to the lower hills. We'll be able to watch
what goes on from up here. Red team will start on the east hill and blue on the
west. Each base hill will have its own flag for reference. Good luck!"

Mouse used his long legs to stride quickly to their sparrow. "Come on cap'n. I'd
like ta get this over with."

"Oh right!" Harlow picked up her gear and ran after him.

Mouse had already climbed on top of the bird and was about to get in the side seat
when she reached him.

"Mouse," she said, "before we get started, can I talk to you about something?"
"Can it wait?"

"I suppose some of it can, but I want to clear the air first. I didn't cheat in the
maze. I didn't know Takashi would show up like he did. Honest."

"Really?"

"It's the truth."

"All right then I believe ya, can we get on wi' this now?"

She blinked. "You believe me?"

"Said I did, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but I thought . . . well the rumors spread so fast . . . that you-"

"Spread 'em?"

She looked at him with guilty eyes.

"Look, I was mad that me jaw got busted up, but that doesn't mean I'm fool enough
ta spread rumors 'bout me cap'n. Can we go now?"

"Um . . . yes," she said, feeling more foolish than ever. How could she have
doubted him? Flight crew stuck with flight crew. She should've known he wouldn't
spread rumors about her.

He sat down and turned his head. When she saw his face next, he had taken off his
spectacles and wore large black goggles, concentrating on the preparations for
flight. She climbed in the pilot's seat beside him.

It only took a few moments to get the sparrow off the ground. The birds needed
enough room to flap their wings, so it only made sense to have no more than six
sparrows take off at once in the relatively small hangar. Otherwise, they'd easily
hit each other with their wings. At least sparrows didn't require long runways with
their near vertical lift.

"Blue base is due west." Mouse folded up the map Master Ambrose gave them and set
it next to him.

"Right, heading west." After setting their course, she looked over to catch him
staring out the window with his face propped up on his fist. "Mouse? You okay?"

"What?" he asked, snapping out of his daze. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure? You look out of it."

Mouse had always been the most excited, energetic person in flight class. They gave
him his nickname last term for the way he scurried over the hangar like a mouse. He
talked fast, walked fast, and slowed down for no one. If she had to give him a
nickname today she'd call him Tortoise.

"Said I'm fine. Can we leave it at that?" he said, defenses up.

"Okay." She looked back out the front window and bit her lip. The conversation
wasn't going anywhere. They passed a minute or so without saying a word.
"Mouse, I know you don't want to speak with me," she said, breaking the silence,
"but I have something important to ask you. It involves your uncle."

"Uncle Oliver?" he asked. This time all his attention zoned in on her.

"Mr. Whittle. Is that his first name?"

"Aye, Oliver Whittle. What could ya possibly want ta know 'bout him?"

"Do you know where he is? I need to talk to him."

His interest vanished, and he went back to staring out the window. "Me mum's
relations have nothin' ta do wi' me anymore. Sorry, I can't help ya."

Normally, she'd leave it at that, but not today. "But don't you live with him?"

"Used to. Not anymore. He abandoned me. Just like everyone else," he said, mumbling
the last part.

"Abandoned you? Mr. Whittle?"

"Doesn't sound like him does it, but that's what he did. Told me he'd be back in a
couple days from his trip, but it's been over a week. Shouldn't be surprised. Can't
count on anyone these days. They all end up leavin' ya in the end."

"Have you tried to find him? Maybe he didn't abandon you like you think."

"Or maybe he did." His voice rose. "Without me uncle, it only took three days for
me ol' man ta find me. Thinks he's gonna be me guardian now. You can just see how
skilled he is at parentin'." Mouse removed his goggles, revealing a purple and
green bruise covering his puffed up left eye.

"Oh, Meriwether," Harlow gasped, "I'm so sorry."

"Now ya know why I didn't want to talk 'bout it," he said. She nodded, not wanting
to push him further. After a moment sitting in uncomfortable silence, he pointed
past her to a hill emerging from a patch of mist. "There it is," he said, "Looks
like we're the first ones here."

Harlow straightened. It was fairly easy to land a sparrow. Just pick somewhere and
set down. Great pilots could even land one in a large tree. Or at least she'd been
told they could. She spotted a flat enough strip by the wooden pole sticking out of
the ground with a dyed blue cloth tied to its top and touched her bird to the
earth. Soon, her teammates flocked to her sides.

She pulled down her radio to locate the rest of the blue flock. "This is blue one.
Blue two, blue three, come in."

"Blue two here, blue one. We're right behind you. Over."

"Copy that Lucius. Piper, you there?"

"Roger, captain. Blue three reporting."

"Okay everyone. We've got a two minute circling time. Once that's over, we'll head
east. The two of you fly low. Watch out for Kensington and Maxwell. Norton's a high
flyer who loves to attack from the clouds. Mouse and I will cover him. Get to red
base as quickly as you can. Better two clean birds than three dirty ones. Over."
"Copy blue one."

"Check your six Harlow. Norton has a heavy trigger finger." Lucius was right, but
Harlow could see Norton coming from miles away. He didn't frighten her.

"Ready to go, Mouse?" she asked.

"Ready as ever."

All three birds took off at once. Lucius and Piper leveled quickly as Harlow kept
on in a vertical lift. When she hit a good altitude where she was high enough up
but could still see Lucius and Piper below, she circled the hill.

The bird's wings stretched out on both sides, majestic and untamed. The tips of its
mechanical feathers flapped ever so slightly against the air current. All around,
the Academy's training grounds shrank, revealing the surrounding wood. Though quite
close, the outlying buildings of the Smokestack, in all their industrial grandeur,
seemed like nothing more than a distant memory at this angle. Harlow took in a deep
breath, rubbing her thumb over the controls. This was it. Freedom. No expectations.
No pretention. No random blokes trying to kill her.

Mouse leaned forward and snapped his goggles back on. "Cap'n, you see that?
Directly noon?"

Harlow followed his frantic pointing. Three copper sparrows popped out of the low
clouds ahead. "What the? It can't be. Mouse, notify the other birds."

Mouse scrambled for the radio on his side. "Blue two, blue three. This is blue one.
All three bandits are flyin' high and fast aproachin'. Over."

"Roger blue one." Piper pulled up followed by Lucius. "How'd they make it here so
fast?"

Harlow grabbed her radio. "Guess they didn't want to circle their base. Change of
plans. We're going on the offensive. Let's show them the early bird gets paint in
the face."

She pulled her bird into a vertical climb. Naturally, the red team sparrows
followed suit. She flew up faster, and increased the span between her sparrow and
theirs. Reaching a good distance, she tucked her bird's wings in flat against her
body and let gravity take over. Her sparrow's nose plummeted downwards.

"Mouse, are we loaded?"

"Aye."

Opening the wings to glide, she put her thumb on the red trigger button and
unloaded on the planes below. Once they got too close, she barrel rolled out of the
way. She opened the wings further and returned the sparrow to a horizontal
position.

"Don't think they were too happy 'bout that." Mouse said as he looked behind them
out the side window. "All three birds are on our six."

"All three?"

"I'm on it captain." Piper's voice startled her as she came in on the radio.

Harlow could see red base ahead of them. If Piper and Lucius could get the red
flock off her tail, she could land and it. Game over. She hadn't been hit once.

"Piper's distracted one of them," said Mouse, "and Lucius is on top of the other
two. Hurry cap'n."

She pushed the bird forward. Thinking she was in the clear, paintballs flew past
her window. "What was that? I thought you said we were covered?"

Mouse spun around. "Cor blimey! Lucius let one sparrow past and now he's gainin' on
us."

Harlow tried maneuvering this way and that, but nothing would shake him. All of a
sudden, paint stopped zooming past. "Why isn't he shooting?"

Mouse adjusted his goggles. "It's Norton. That dimwit means to ram us."

"He can't possibly be that poor of a looser." She pushed the sparrow to speed up,
but couldn't go fast enough.

BAM!

Norton's sparrow clipped the bottom of her sparrow's tail, flinging it upward and
sending both her and Mouse spiraling to the ground.

"Brace yourself! We're going to land," she yelled.

"Land where? In the trees?"

Harlow stiffened her grip on the controls. Her focus peaked. Her eyes set.

"Precisely."

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter in Harlow's adventure.
Please remember to vote if you liked what you've read. I'd love to hear from you,
so please leave a comment.

Flight class loves playing bird games. Tell me, what's your favorite game?

"Are ya out of yer bloomin' mind? We can'na land in the trees." Mouse spread the
length of his arms and legs against the interior of the sparrow's cockpit, bracing
himself.

The earth yanked the bird's nose downward. The ground twirled like a top. Harlow's
stomach lurched at the motion. Even if she could pull out of the spin, this
altitude left her with two options, land in the trees or crash in the trees.

Sweat dripped from her forehead and flew off her skin. Centrifugal force tugged her
to the right side of the craft against her restraining harness

"Open the avis landing gear. I'll straighten her out," she cried.
"Och, this is insane." Mouse flipped a switch above him, freeing the bird-like legs
from the bottom of the sparrow. The legs would stay close to the body of the
sparrow until the switch was pushed further to lower and close the talons.

This has to work. It just has to.

She pulled up on the nose, but the sparrow wouldn't straighten. The trees swirled
closer as they neared the earth.

"Pull her up cap'n!"

"I'm trying!"

"Can't believe this is the end." Mouse threw his arms over his head.

She pulled harder. Her arms brightened through her sleeves.

"This . . . is . . . not . . . the end."

Her foot stretched out on one side of the rudder bar. She pushed down on the nose,
and the body straightened. But it was too late.

Crash!

They hit the first branch. The impact lifted both of them inches off their seats.

Crash! Crash! Crash!

"Mouse! Lower the talons. Now!"

Mouse didn't respond. He must've knocked his head against the cockpit's roof on
first impact. She flung herself across him and flipped the switch to lower the
legs.

More branches broke under the sparrow's belly. If she didn't grasp onto a large
enough branch when she closed the talons, the weight of the craft would snap
whatever she did grab in half. If only she could see what was below her. She had
one chance. It was now or never.

Please, please!

She flipped the switch all the way. The talons closed. The earlier blows softened
the shock, but the impact still jerked the sparrow violently. Mouse's body slammed
against the ceiling and the side wall. Harlow's frame was too small to collide with
anything as it was jostled about.

The bird came to halt then tilted forward.

"Mouse, lean back." She pushed her body back as far as she could. Mouse hunched
forward, unconscious.

She flung her arm across his chest. With her arms shining through her sleeves, she
pulled back with all her might. Somehow, she managed to return him into his chair.

The sparrow slanted back, leveled off, and then continued to tilt dangerously
backward. She leaned forward. Her arm left Mouse's chest and squeezed behind his
back. She pushed and pushed until he leaned forward with her. The bird creaked, and
returned upright.
Her heart still pounding, she let out some tension with a sigh. The light from her
arms dimmed.

I'm never doing that again.

"Mouse?" she said, breathless. No response. "Meriwether? Answer me!"

"Ermmm," he moaned.

"Thank goodness. Come on. We have to get down." She couldn't take off again. Who
knew how much damage the landing did to the craft?

"Wha-what happened?" Mouse peered at her through squinted eyes, rubbing his
bleeding forehead.

"We landed." Careful not to tip the bird any further, she pulled out the first aid
kit from a bin near her head. "In a tree. Be slow with your movements. I don't
think we're stable up here. We need to climb down. Looks like you're by the trunk,
so you go first."

"Oh, right." Mouse unlatched his restraints and groggily opened his side of the
sparrow. When his head dropped down, he jolted back, grasping at his chair and
pulling his legs in. "Whoa, woah, what?"

His sudden movements pushed the sparrow into a slant.

"Careful," Harlow said, flinging her free hand out and willing the bird to steady.
The motion slowed, but the tension remained. "I'll explain everything later. After
we get down."

He nodded then looked back out the cockpit. "It's a long way to tha ground. How
good are ye at climbin' cap'n?"

"Sufficient. Go on. I'll follow."

With their movements slow and calculated, each inch out of the bird dragged on like
eternity. She hadn't realized how tightly she held her breath until both feet
touched bark and air escaped her lungs. Never before had she hugged a tree with
such passion.

At the bottom, Mouse's height was his advantage. His long legs stretched to the
ground with ease. There weren't enough branches on the lower end of the trunk for
her to get down by herself.

"Well, it looks like yer brave in tha air, but ya can still use some help down on
earth," Mouse said, waving her to him with a flick of his wrists.

She tossed him the first aid kit. He sat it down beside him then she pushed off the
tree, into his arms.

"Ooff! For such a wee gel, ya sure are heavy."

She wrinkled her nose in offence. "Am not. You're just weak from getting all banged
and bloodied." He let her down, and she found a nearby stump to open the kit.

His fingers went to his forehead where blood oozed down his temple. "So I am."

She pulled out some gauze and tried to reach his head, but their height difference
was comical. "Um, can you sit over there on that log?"
He sat down, and she cleaned the wound with a canteen of water from the kit. Then
she pulled out some gauze for a make-shift bandage, a trick Brier had used on her
more times than she could count. "It doesn't look that bad, but you've got a nasty
lump on the back."

With some adhesive, she secured the gauze then looked down to see his face knotted
in confusion.

"Everything all right?" she asked. "I mean, besides your head gash."

His eyes went to the sparrow, still perched in the tree, and he shrugged. "I keep
runnin' what happened in me head. It doesn't make any sense. How'd ya know when ta
close the talons? Ya couldn't see beneath tha bird. But tha branch is perfect. Tha
sparrow ain't comin' down from there anytime soon."

"I . . . I don't know," she said, following his gaze. He was right. The branch
under the sparrow, massive as it was, stuck out as the only large branch in an
otherwise sparse tree. Finishing her patch job as best as she could, she sat down
beside him on the log and scratched the back of her neck. "To be honest, it feels
like someone's watching out for me. As if we were meant to fly into that tree to
prove it."

He tilted his head down. "Ya know how loony tha' sounds?"

"Yeah, well, I'm all out of other explanations." She stretched past him to grab and
pack up the kit. A few days ago she'd call herself crazy for saying that too. In
the land of science and reason, everything had a tangible explanation. To think
something, or someone, she couldn't see was watching out for her was absurd. Even
for her. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling.

She begged for forgiveness, and there it was, straight from Miss Himura's lips.
Something her own father never would do. She wanted to save her friends in the
ally, and the bizarre light did just that. And really, she couldn't make that
landing again if she practiced it every day for a decade. Each situation filled her
with a strange feeling of intention. Like she was an actor in some grand play.

"All right. I'll do it." Mouse stood and walked toward school.

"Do what?"

"I'll take ya to see Uncle Oliver," he said over his shoulder.

The distance between them grew. She stumbled to her feet after him. "Really? What
made you change your mind?"

"Anyone who can land a plane in a bloomin' tree, toss it up ta fate or whatever,
and says they need me help, must really need it. You saved me life. I owe ya that
cap'n. Besides, I wouldn't mind escaping me old man for a day or so."

"That's great," she said, matching his stride, "Well, not the part about your
father, but . . . do you have any idea where your uncle is?"

"Last I heard, he was in Upper Portsmouth. Figure we'll start there."

She felt her jaw drop. "Upper Portsmouth? The flying city?"

"That's the one. We'll use me airship. Still hard ta believe the old coot left her
ta me. But we'll need a few more people ta man her. Know anyone who'll go along?"
She smiled. "I think I can round up a few people."

Carolina dropped her chin into her palm and pushed the brown slop Featherington's
meal staff called food around her plate with her fork. If one more person asked her
what was wrong, she'd spit.

Can't I sit in this stupid mess hall in peace?

The annoying boys poking her shoulder every five seconds was enough to drive her
batty. If only Felix would show up for lunch like he said he would, she could stop
telling them to shove off. But no, her high and mighty brother, yet again, left her
out of things. She wasn't about to pretend it didn't bother her.

Bet he's gone on another secret mission.

Did he think she hadn't noticed? Worse yet, she saw him speaking alone to Brier
Morgan in the library a couple days ago about her so-called best friend in hushed
voices. No one in school knew where Harlow had been, but how dare that no one
included her. Fine. If they wanted to act that way, then she'd ignore them too.
Harlow had tried to get her attention in the hall before Culinary Studies, and
Carolina had given her the cut direct like a champion. It must be a terrible
feeling to be ignored. She should know. She'd been so for days.

Carolina slouched, shoving the tray clear to the other side of the wooden table.
With lunch half way over, she sat on the cold bench alone. Nearly alone that is.

"Down in the dumps are we?" came a male voice, his breath resting on the nape of
her neck.

That was it. The last straw. She sucked in a breath and spun to face the bloke.
"Look, I know I'm not as bubbly and cheerful as you'd like me to be, but I'm not in
the mood and-"

Her words vanished at the sight of the boy next to her. A smile returned to her
lips, and she wrapped him in a tight hug. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know it was you.
What are you doing here? I didn't think you had lunch this hour."

He pulled her out of the embrace and returned her smile. "Carolina," he said, in a
dark voice that melted her bones. "I need your help."

***

Takashi tapped his foot rhythmically against the hardwood of his apartment floor.
Stuffed up indoors for nearly a week now had made him stir crazy. Koji had already
beat him three times in hanafuda, the card game they brought over from Japan. A
feat Takashi wouldn't live down for days.

But at the moment, his mind was elsewhere. Sensei Himura had told them Harlow was
coming over later with some kind of plan to get them out of this mess. Takashi
found that hard to believe. That girl was a walking firework-unpredictable and
dangerous. He doubted she planned out anything in her life.

Worse yet, he didn't know how to act around her. Since childhood, he'd been a
master at controlling his temper. Koji and Miki had even made a game to see who
could ruffle him up first-a game that lasted hours, if not days. So what was it
about that Morgan girl that made his face flare up and his tongue lash out? The
more he thought about his reaction to her when she woke from her coma, the more
embarrassed he became.

Then again, she did hold a few distracting features his friends didn't. That wild
orange hair for instance. Or how her eyes, the shade of a bamboo forest, would-

"Are you even trying?" Koji threw his cards down.

Snapping from his thoughts, Takashi looked down at the flower images in his hand.
"Of course I'm trying. You're on a lucky streak."

Koji crossed his arms in disbelief. "Okay then, what month are we on?"

Takashi winced. "March?"

"September. I knew it was too good to be true. No one ever beats you at hanafuda.
Why'd you even ask me to play if you didn't want to?"

"I did at first, but now I can't stop thinking about tonight."

Koji's mischievous smile grew from ear to ear. "Oh really?"

Takashi rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, "I thought I was playing cards with
Koji, not Miki-chan."

Through bubbling laughter, Koji kept on. "You have to admit, she has a point.
Whenever anyone mentions Harlow's name, you get weird on us. Can't believe you fell
for a Morgan girl."

"Oh, come on. If I get weird at all, it's because bringing up her name reminds me
of our mission. Stop reading into it. My thoughts are where they should be."

Maybe Koji bought that speech, but he didn't. His reactions toward Harlow confused
him too, but he didn't need--nor want--Koji and Miki clouding his judgment. Someone
had to focus on more important things.

"Suppose you're right." Koji picked his cards up and laid his belly back on the
cold floor. "I haven't thought about anything but how much I like this place. It's
growing on me."

"Not because you don't have to go to school anymore, is it?"

Koji smiled. "It has its upsides."

"Like laziness?"

Miki flung the door open. Out of breath, her hands fell to her knees. "They're
here," she huffed.

Koji collected the cards as Takashi rose. "They?"

"Yes, come on," she said, leaving the room without further explanation.

"Sensei said only Harlow was coming tonight," Takashi said, descending the
staircase with Koji close behind him.

"She must have brought friends."

He frowned. Their mission was supposed to be highly secretive. Now that firecracker
girl was making a party of it?

"Ah, there you are, mates." Felix Goodwin stood at the bottom of the stairs.
"Harlow and Brier are in the other room. Let's be on with it. Harlow has smashing
news."

A small amount of relief passed over Takashi. No reason to worry over extra
company. He followed Felix into the receiving room. Both he and Koji bowed to their
sensei. When he rose, he had a look at the rest of the people in the room and his
relief turned sour.

Sitting on the sofa with his arm around Harlow was the boy who-for no reason at
all-attacked him in the maze. Nothing could control his fury. All manners and
composure disappeared. His friends took their seats while he stood erect, fists
clenched.

"What is he doing here?"

I hope you enjoyed this chapter of A City in the Air. If you like what you've read,
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Who is your favorite character so far and why?

The moment Takashi stepped through the rounded archway of his apartment's foyer,
Harlow regretted accepting Miss Himura's offer of scalding hot tea. At the time,
the sweet floral aroma lured her in to try the strange, pale green concoction. As
she sipped its rich flavor, the drink calmed her, allowed her to voice her plan to
the woman with confidence. But when Takashi's eyes found her, deep and fiery, her
hands shook the cup against the saucer, sloshing the burning liquid onto the tiny
plate.

And when he just stood there, stone cold like an ancient warrior in one of her
history books, visions of Father in his foulest of moods penetrated her thoughts.
She'd seen that look of utter fury hundreds of times on Father. But there was
something more unsettling in the way Takashi delivered his glare. His angled jaw
set, and his sharp dark brows dipped down. She felt her pulse race. A shiver sped
under her skin. How could someone wield such intimidation so quickly and without a
word? Yet, when he did speak, his voice gave her such a start that she shook the
teacup, splattering its contents onto her thumb and the wooden floorboards, barely
missing her favorite olive trousers.

She turned her eyes from him, set the teacup down, and stuck her thumb in her mouth
to cool the pain. By the time she'd reached for one of the many cloths resting on
the coffee table to clean the mess, Takashi had already crossed the room to tidy
the small spill by her feet.

"I asked Mouse here to help," she said when he rose.

Her words only sparked more anger in his features. She suddenly wished him back
over by the archway. Or at least a step or two away from her.
"Help?" he said, eyes burning holes into the boy beside her. "How could we possibly
get help from him? He's a brute. Threw his fists at me in that maze for no reason."

Mouse shot upright, his large frame nearly knocking Harlow into Takashi's chest.
"You're jokin' me. Way I remember it, you were tha one ta give me a bloody lip."

"I did not. I dodged your blows. The bushes gave you a bloody lip. Not me."

Harlow had to end this before they tried to bloody each other again with her caught
in the middle. They were on the same side after all. "Look. It was all a
misunderstanding. Calm down, both of you."

"I didn't misunderstand anything," Takashi said. "Any help from him isn't worth it.
He'll ruin all we've worked for."

"Takashi. That is enough." All eyes turned to the back of the room where Miss
Himura stood. Though her slim peach dress, decorated in floral tree branches, gave
her an elegant and fragile appearance, her voice alone could hold the command of a
tiger. "I have heard the majority of Harlow's plan prior to her arrival. It has
been confirmed by dreams of the elders and set in motion by a power greater than
your own. Your ways are not His ways. Nor are your thoughts His. Take your seat."

Takashi straightened his back. "Yes, sensei," he said at Himura's strange words.
Turning to Mouse he bowed. "My apologies."

Mouse let the matter die with a nod, and Takashi sat down in the empty chair beside
Harlow, his face still set in a frown. Only after Mouse had flopped down on the
other side of her did the tension in the room lighten.

Miss Himura returned to her spot at the end of the room. "Miki-chan. Please get us
more tea."

"Yes Sensei." The long haired girl rose, bowed, and exited the room.

"Now that we are all here," Miss Himura continued, "let us discuss the matter at
hand. Harlow, if you please."

"Of course," Harlow said, sitting down. "For those of you who don't know him, this
is Meriwether Sutton." Mouse tipped the rim of his dirt brown bowler hat. "He's
agreed to help us find his uncle, Mr. Whittle, the head monitor at Featherington.
We think he's our best chance at clearing your names and getting you back in the
school."

"Do you know where to find the chap?" asked Felix, sipping his tea and crossing his
legs where he sat across the coffee table. "The elder's said something about a city
in the air. Is he really in Upper Portsmouth?"

"Aye, that's where he told me he was off to," said Mouse. "Ya say those elders o'
yours dreamt about where Uncle Oliver is, without even knowin' him?"

Felix nodded.

Mouse shook his head. "Unbelievable."

"Where is this Upper Portsmouth?" Takashi asked Harlow directly. Okay, so he didn't
want to talk to Mouse, but why did he have to gaze at her with all the intensity of
the earlier spat? He made her itch with unease.
"Well--"

"Upper Portsmouth is a city a little over sixty miles south of here," Brier cut in.
She pushed the ruffles of her sky colored skirt down and sat forward on the settee
next to Felix. "It would be in the Smokestack Territory, but its sheer altitude
creates its own region and rulers. The Magnitude doesn't have any authority over
flying cities--though I don't know of any besides Upper Portsmouth."

"So it flies?" said the Japanese boy kneeling at Takashi's side. His eyes went wide
with excitement.

"Sure does, mate," said Felix. "Never been there myself, but I've seen it from
Lower Portsmouth. I'm telling you, it's a sight to behold."

Takashi inched in closer. His knee came dangerously close to brushing against
Harlow's leg, and she sucked in a sharp breath. "Wait, so there's a Lower
Portsmouth?" he asked, his presence so near, Harlow fought the urge to jump from
her seat.

"For sure," Brier answered. She rested her hands on her skirt, facing the palms
upwards, the way she always did right before she droned on with a boring speech.
Give the girl a second to show off her smarts, and she'll take an hour. "Lower
Portsmouth is a rural community now, though it once was one large naval city. But
when the Great War hit, well, paranoia ran rampant. Plans went into effect to move
the urban portion airborne. Once technology became available, up it went. As far as
I know, it's the only one of its kind. I'm surprised your uncle had admittance.
They're very strict with who they let in and out."

"He's got admittance everywhere. Practically a diplomat that one." Mouse crossed
his arms and slouched backward. "I canna see why he had ta be gone so long this
time."

"Do you think we will be able to access the city?" asked Miss Himura.

"I wouldn't doubt it. Uncle Oliver left me papers in case I wanted ta visit him.
Would've gone long ago, but I can't man Gertrude by meself."

"Gertrude?" Nearly everyone in the room asked.

"Aye, she's the airship he left me. Ya can't get to Upper Portsmouth without one.
Named 'er after me granny." He frowned. "She's buried in tha ground now though. Me
granny, not tha ship."

"I am sorry to hear that. She must have been a wonderful woman to have a vessel
named after her," said Miss Himura in earnest, and Mouse nodded. "How many people
will you need to make the trip?"

Harlow felt the need to speak up first. It was her plan after all. "Mouse will take
up the engineering duties and I'll captain her, but we'll need at least three more
people."

"We've already decided I'm going," Brier chimed in. And by we she meant she
decided. She'd heard Harlow's plan the night before and was undecided about coming
at the time. But when Felix came by to bring them to Takashi's apartment that
afternoon, she took one look at him from the window of their study and told Harlow
the decision was made.

"I'm very good with maps," Brier went on, "I'd be a great navigator."
Harlow snickered. Good with maps was a gross overstatement. Can hardly follow one
to save my life was more like it.

Felix set his empty tea cup on the table. "You can count me in. I'm not too shabby
with the riggings, and I wouldn't miss the chance to visit Upper Portsmouth.
Besides, someone will need to run security detail."

"Why would we need security detail?" Brier asked.

His lip curled in a mischievous grin. "For pirates of course."

Oh, no.

"Pirates!" she cried.

If there was one thing Brier hated more than snakes, it was pirates. Or rather, the
idea of pirates, since she'd only ever heard of them in storybooks. Felix chuckled
at the horror spread across Brier's face. "Har, you didn't say anything about
pirates," she whined. "I don't think this is a good idea anymore. Have you seen
their ships before, Felix?"

Felix burst out in laughter. "No, Bri. Oh that was too easy," he said, wiping a
tear from his eye. "How could I have seen air-pirates? I've only been to Lower
Portsmouth." He winked. "But no one knows what trouble we'll run into."

Brier reached in her satchel and pulled out her notebook. Mumbling to herself, she
scribbled furiously. "Can't believe were going on a loony suicide mission with
pirates--thinks he can take them on by himself--I'll need an entire arsenal of stun
weaponry--at least two dozen smoke pellets . . ."

"Is she alright?" Takashi whispered to Harlow.

"Yes, she gets this way whenever she worries."

"Sorry Har." Brier said in a louder, more coherent voice. "I'm going, but I won't
have time to navigate. I'll be far too busy with all this now."

Harlow feigned a look of disappointment, though inwardly thanked Felix for his
teasing. Anyone who could pull a map from her sister's grasp had done her a world
of service.

"I'll help wherever you need me," Takashi spoke up. "That is if you'll allow it,
sensei."

"You may go Takashi," Miss Himura said with a nod. "Though Koji and Miki are to
stay here with me." The boy on the ground groaned in disappointment. He opened his
mouth to say something, but was silenced by Miss Himura's stiff headshake.

"When do we leave?" Takashi asked, this time to Mouse.

"Gertrude has a few more repairs left to do," said Mouse. "Norton's about finished
with 'em, so I'd say late afternoon on Friday."

Norton had felt so guilty for nearly killing them that he easily agreed to repair
Mouse's ship. That and when Master Ambrose threatened to suspend the bloke for the
rest of the term, he was more than grateful for Harlow asking his punishment be
lessened to a week.

"It is decided then." Miss Himura rose to her feet. "The hour is getting late. We
will meet again on Friday."

Taking her cue to leave, Harlow practically jumped from the sofa. The distance she
put between her and Takashi soothed her nerves, and she wondered how on earth she'd
survive the several day trip trapped on an airship with a boy who made her mind
scatter and her heart pound.

Harlow couldn't have dreamt up a more magnificent ship. Even for its small size,
Gertrude held all the glory of any battleship in the Magnitude's fleet. The sun set
behind the trees, giving her a slight fuchsia tint as she reflected the dusk light
off her many sails.

Staring at Gertrude from a hill some yards away, Harlow had the impression she
looked at something other worldly. She'd seen dirigibles and warships before, but
none of them came close to the sight ahead of her. Most of those ships used either
one or more sphere shaped balloons to lift them into flight. At first, Harlow
thought Gertrude didn't use any lifting gas. She looked more like a swordfish than
an airship. Perhaps due to the straight sharp point of the bowsprit or the way the
white sails resembled fins. Or maybe the aqua marine and emerald coloring of the
deck and hull reminded her of the sea. Whatever it was, Harlow couldn't figure out
how she got airborne.

"Crikey, that's amazing." Brier finally appeared at the top of the hill. She
carried several leather satchels across her chest, two large bags in her left hand,
and an enormous burlap sack strung over her right shoulder. Years of smithing had
made her stronger than ever. Earlier in the day, Harlow had tried to help Brier
carry at least half of her things, but she barely got out the front door when her
weak limbs made her concede to Brier's nagging, letting her sister lug a majority
of the heavy luggage alone.

"Why are you bringing all that anyway?" Harlow asked, walking alongside her down
the hill. "We won't be gone too long. Don't tell me those are full of clothes to
impress a certain blond boy."

"Ha! It'd be . . . pretty sad if these . . . were only filled with clothing . . .
and you . . . couldn't carry any of them." The weight of the baggage pulled Brier
down the hill faster than Harlow could keep up. So much so, that she was already
taking off some of the bags next to the ship by the time Harlow reached her.

"If it's not clothes, then what is it?"

Brier removed the last satchel and slumped in relief. "Preparations."

"Preparations? For what?"

"Pirates." Her mouth rested in a straight line.

A chuckle escaped Harlow's lips. "I can't believe you fell for that, Bri. Felix was
poking fun at you. There aren't any pirates in Upper Portsmouth."

"Go ahead, laugh at me now, but you'll thank me later."

"We'll see about that. What's in here anyways? Tons of pirate repellant?" Harlow
bent over to open the burlap sack as Brier rested against the ship. She dug through
heaps of handmade weaponry, radar devices, and gas masks when Brier's voice cut
through the clanking.
"Guess everyone's here," she said.

"Oh, yeah?" Harlow replied absently, her focus on the sack.

"I think so. Takashi and Felix are loading some supplies onto the deck."

"You don't say." She began organizing the contents of the bags as Brier kept
dawdling about.

"Never noticed that before," she said, leaving Harlow to guess what she meant.

"Noticed what?"

"I do believe Takashi has eyes for you," she said with a giggle. "He keeps staring
this way."

Brier couldn't be more ridiculous. "Rubbish. He's looking this way because someone
over here is staring at him first."

Brier kicked the bag in Harlow's grasp. "Come on, that's not it at all. He fancies
you, I know it."

Harlow rolled her eyes and continued her work.

"No way!" Brier exclaimed, startling Harlow.

It pained her to ask. "No way what?"

"Mouse is here."

"Thought he'd be."

"No, no, I mean Mouse is here with Carolina hanging on his arm."

Thank you for reading! If you liked what you've read, please don't forget to vote.
And tell me what you think in the comments. I'd love to hear from you.

The two modified stun revolvers Harlow was inspecting slipped from her grasp and
landed in Brier's precautionary bag with a clank. Out her peripherals, her sister's
form jerked. The noise, however, did nothing to arouse Harlow from her stupor.
Slack jawed, she fixed her gaze on the most unlikely pair descending the hill
toward the airship.

Harlow blinked. The blonde girl with the waist-length shimmering locks and pink
cheeks certainty looked like Carolina. She wore the spring green bodice, lacey
shoulder shrug, and carnation pink striped skirt Harlow had seen on her friend many
times before. But not even Carolina's signature scent of violet, riding the
incoming breeze, could convince her the girl glued to Mouse's arm truly was her
friend.

No way on earth would Carolina go near a rough and greasy engineer like Mouse, let
alone trail him into the woods that backed up behind his home. If they hadn't been
childhood mates, Harlow doubted the girl would even tolerate her presence after a
good flight. But of all the blokes in the Smokestack, Mouse was by far the last one
anyone expected Carolina to warm up to.

Over and over she complained of his constant staring at her in French Class. His
'complete lack of manners' got under her skin 'in the worst way'. Harlow had urged
Carolina to talk to him-get to know he wasn't all that uncouth. But she'd refused,
saying it would be a million years before she gave Mouse as much as a smile. And
there she was, her grip tight around his brown plaid sleeve, giggling at whatever
tumbled from his mouth.

And yet, Carolina's presence was more than welcome. Harlow had tried several times
since her first day back at school to share the past craziness with her good
friend, with no luck. Her world grew too hectic, and Carolina grew too absent.

So who in the world told her about this trip? Felix? Mouse?

Harlow stood, guilt springing up in her stomach. Whoever it was, it should've been
her. Felix moved to greet them, and she followed behind.

"I wouldn't go that way if I were you." Standing close to the hull with his arms
crossed, Takashi's words stopped her before she passed.

"What? Why not?"

"Felix is pretty upset. Best stay out of it." He bent down to pick up some rope.
"Come on. Now that you're here, you can help me get these on the ship."

Takashi wrapped the rope over his shoulder as he straightened. Wind tossed his hair
about, making him look like a genuine seafarer. He must've arrived early to get the
ship ready. Sweat beaded across his face. Despite the chill in the air, he wore the
sleeves to his bleach white shirt rolled up, revealing the toned muscles of his
forearms. Heat rose in her cheeks. Her desire to greet her mate, and not stand so
close to Takashi solidified.

"Why would he be upset?" she asked, hoping he'd move from her path. "I thought he
invited her. Being his sister and all."

Takashi slowed his work on the rope, squinting at Carolina. "So that's his sister.
Humm."

Humm? Humm what?

Harlow frowned, knowing exactly what his hum meant. Carolina was drop dead
gorgeous. She gave every boy that same reaction.

"Yes," she said with a little more agitation in her voice than she intended.
"That's Carolina Goodwin. Felix's younger sister."

Takashi turned from his gawking back to his work. "Well, that makes more sense.
Felix seemed pretty protective."

"Protective? From who? Mouse? That's ridiculous."

Ridiculous, yes. Untrue, no. Harlow couldn't hear what Felix was shouting about
over whatever Norton was clanging away with on deck, but she could easily watch the
argument unfold. Felix threw his arms this way and that, jabbing his finger in his
sister's face. Carolina tossed her hair over her shoulder and lifted her chin.
Mouse seemed to be having the best of it, standing beside them with a grin
plastered on his face.

"Is it?" Takashi asked. "Looks to me like he has every right to want his sister far
away from this risky trip and an even riskier friend." Harlow shot him a look at
his blatant jab at Mouse. He put his hands up in defense. "All I'm saying is that
Felix cares for his sister. He's protective, maybe overly so, but there's nothing
wrong with that. It's a trait that could be useful in the future."

She sighed. There was no use arguing. She'd get to talk with Carolina once things
cooled down anyway. "Alright, I won't go over there. Yet." She moved to pick up a
crate next to him, but it was far too heavy and slipped from her grasp. "Ooof."

Takashi chuckled. "Of everything here, you go for the heaviest." He tossed her some
rope. "Take that instead. We'll need at least two people to get that crate."

Once up the gangplank, they worked to unload the supplies on deck. She convinced
herself to think of him as just another crewmate, not the boy whose name she'd
slandered. The boy she hadn't yet figured out how to apologize to in a way that
would mean anything. Or the boy who made her pulse race simply by standing next to
him. Crikey, she couldn't keep working beside him in silence.

"Takashi?" she asked, minutes into their task.

"Mmhum?"

Think of something. Think of something. "Um, why do you think that box was in my
cuckoo clock? You said my father might have had it, but I can't figure out why he
would. And it was in my clock. Not his. Passed down from my mum."

It wasn't any sort of apology, but a good question none the less. One she hadn't
really stopped to ponder. Yet, when he dropped the box he'd been carrying and gaped
at her, she wished the words back through her mouth.

He let out a breath, and rubbed the back of his neck. "I, um, I've been meaning to
talk to you about that," he stammered, his stressed tone suggesting whatever he had
to say, she wasn't prepared to hear it. He edged in, his face tightened and his
gaze locked on her. "There's something about me you need to know."

He stepped forward. She stepped back. Her heart hammered in her chest as her
imagination ran through every gothic novel plot in her brain. Oh lovely, he's a
mind reading vampire. I really don't want him to suck my blood. Please don't suck
my blood.

"Meriwether!" Carolina's whine rang over the deck, interrupting whatever Takashi
was going to say. The bloke stepped back, and Harlow sighed in relief. "Isn't this
your ship?" Carolina continued. "Don't let him bully you. If you want me here, then
that's all there is to it."

Following a furious Felix, Carolina pleaded for Mouse to accompany her across deck.
But from the way he leaned against the railings, crossing his arms and chewing on a
toothpick, Harlow knew he wasn't going anywhere.

"Yer brother has a point," he said. "She may be me ship, lass, but I'm not the
cap'on this flight. You'll have ta ask her. Not me."

Felix stopped within a few paces of Harlow. "They're telling me it's up to you. My
baby sister wants to go on with us," he said as if his sister weren't right next to
him.
Carolina hit his arm. "I'm only a year younger. If I'm a baby, what's that make
you?"

Felix spun on his heel. Mouth in a tight line, he bent over his sister to huff out
his irritation inches from her face. She pulled back with a squeak then rolled her
eyes. With a grunt, she made her way back to Mouse's side.

"Says she'll be our cook!" Mouse shouted as she neared.

Taking a few calming breaths, Felix turned to face Harlow once more. "Look, I don't
know how she found out about all this," he said, his voice just above a whisper.
"She refuses to tell me and brushes it off as a coincidence. I've kept her out of
the work of the elders and The Way for her own safety. She's not at all ready."

The Way? That must be what Felix's group calls themselves. How could Carolina not
have known? Maybe Felix's argument sounded good to him, but Mouse was right. Harlow
was captain, and she was excited to have Carolina along for the ride. Plus, her
friend really was a fantastic cook.

"I wasn't ready when these words appeared on my arms either," she reminded him. "I
know she's your little sister and all, but she's the same age as Brier and me. I
trust Carolina. If she says it's a coincidence, then it's a coincidence. A happy
one at that." She put a reassuring hand on Felix's shoulder. "It'll be good for her
to spend some time with her brother." She smiled and walked around him to greet her
mate.

"You alright?" Takashi asked once Harlow had left.

Felix shook his head. "Something's off. We shouldn't bring her."

"What do you mean?"

Taking off his round grey hat, Felix flicked it free from dirt, probably working
out his nerves. "Should've been easy to persuade her. I tried everything I could
think of, but she's so bullheaded. Didn't even flinch when I mentioned her worst
fear."

"And what's that?"

He put his hat back on and looked Takashi dead in the eyes. "Heights."

Harlow felt right at home at the helm. Though she had feared Gertrude might push
her out of her element, she still had the same basic piloting functions of modern
airships. Turn the wheel and hold on. The major difference was in the sails. With
help from Felix and Takashi, they were filled with gas, lifting the ship up
smoothly. The thrust came from the engines out the stern which Harlow controlled
now.

The air was brisk, but the morning sun warmed her from behind. They decided to load
the ship last night and rest in the sleeping quarters until daylight. Though Upper
Portsmouth was only a little over two hours away, access to the city wasn't allowed
until late morning.

While she was excited to fly the ship, she hoped she wasn't too tired from lack of
sleep the night before to fly safely. Over and over, her nightmares woke her with
terrifying images of dragons in darkness. Which oddly enough wasn't the worst part.
The lamb from her coma appeared each time, trying to tell her something, but she
couldn't remember what. Half way through the night, she gave up and stayed awake,
waiting eagerly for breakfast.

She let out a sigh of satisfaction. The breakfast Carolina made was divine. A
better cook couldn't be found in all London. Harlow glanced around deck. Where did
her friend go? She invited her to come topside ages ago. Dishes could wait.

Carolina didn't know what she was missing. Sailing the air alongside the birds was
so freeing. The wind combed Harlow's long hair from underneath her steel grey
aviator cap. Her matching leather trousers gave her freedom to enjoy the open space
her flowing white tulle skirt above them couldn't provide alone. Wearing a skirt by
itself could prove quite embarrassing up at the helm.

Not that anyone on deck was looking her way. Felix worked dutifully on the
riggings. Albatross Goodwin, Felix and Carolina's father, was a Master Flight
Captain in the Magnitude's fleet. Felix must've spent many days on deck with him to
have such skill.

Brier absurdly readied the ship for pirates, taking an inventory of her weaponry.
Though her worrywart behavior lessened as she became more focused on what Felix was
doing. With enthusiasm, he answered every silly question Brier had about the ship-
as if Brier really cared. Boys could be so oblivious.

"So what, you think, it'll be another hour or so?"

Takashi's voice jerked Harlow from her thoughts with a jolt. "Crikey!" She flung
her hand to her chest to steady her breathing. Keeping a grasp on the wheel, she
turned her head to find him sitting on a bench with his black boots propped up on
an overturned bucket. Her unfolded navigation map, as enormous as it was, covered
his upper half. How long had he been next to her? She remembered seeing him further
down on deck only minutes ago and assumed he was still there.

He flipped the top portion of the map down, revealing his smug face. "Did I scare
you?"

"A little. Where the blazes did you come from?"

Takashi grinned and leaned forward, folding the map down next to him. "I think we
all know the answer to that. You see, far, far away from here, almost on the other
side of the world, there's this little closed off island . . ."

She stomped her foot. "Oh, come on, you know what I meant. One minute you're down
on deck, and the next you're up here with me."

"Actually," he said as he stood, "I've been sitting on that bench for a good
quarter of an hour."

"Seriously?" Her brows dipped.

"I'm a fairly good judge of time, but it may have been closer to twenty minutes."
He stood. Coming up next to her, he put his hands on the railing in front of the
ship's wheel. His head tilted back and he took a deep breath through his nose.
"It's beautiful up here, don't you think?"

How would she know? All the sudden she could only concentrate on him. His crimson
shirt and black trousers gave such a stark contrast to the bright emerald ship that
she found it difficult to look anywhere else. She hadn't noticed it before, but
with his chin up, she could see a slight scar on the left side of his jaw.
Interesting. She looked a little closer. It did extend to his ear.

He leaned forward and crossed his arms on the railing. It was only then she
realized he gave her a bizarre stare. "Harlow? You okay?"

"Um, yes," she coughed, looking away. "Very pretty."

"Hunh," he huffed. "Well, I think it's stunning. This is my first time in a flying
ship."

"Really? I mean, you seem so natural and calm for your first time. Didn't you come
to England by air?"

He shook his head. "No, we took a boat. Air travel was too risky."

"Risky? Don't know about that," she said. "I've flown many times. I'd say it's one
of the safest ways to go."

"Safe," he mumbled. "I guess that depends on your definition of the word. No
matter, you're doing a splendid job piloting this ship."

Harlow's face burned. "Th . . . thank you." Strange. She'd been complimented on her
flying skills more than she could count. Why did Takashi's words fill her with such
pride?

Right as her confidence soared, Gertruede hit a patch of turbulence. Harlow tried
to steady her out, but the ship jostled about with such force that Takashi slammed
his chin on the railing.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she cried.

He stood, holding his injured jaw and closing his eyes tight. "How much longer did
you say?" He asked through clenched teeth.

"I didn't, but probably half an hour."

He went back to the bench and took his time sitting down.

"You're not rethinking your opinion of my piloting skills, are you?" she asked, a
bit afraid of his response.

"No," he said to her relief. He removed his hand from his chin, and a mischievous
smile curled the corners of his lips. "Not yet, anyway."

Thank you for reading this installment of Harlow's journey! If you liked what
you've read, please remember to vote by clicking the star, and letting me know what
you think in the comments. I love to hear from you!

Takashi slid back on the bench, stretched his feet onto an overturned bucket, and
rubbed his aching chin. The railing sure did a number on his face. Slamming his jaw
into the beam at the toss of the ship nearly cost him a great amount of pride with
the pain. But whatever embarrassment he reserved for himself was quickly overtaken
by the spritely pilot at the wheel. Since hinting at the possibility of lowering
his opinion of her, Harlow put all her concentration on flying. Snapping her
goggles on and bending atop a wheel she could barely see over, her movements became
almost theatrical. He chuckled, liking how his words affected her.

Perhaps he'd finish the conversation he tried to have with her yesterday. That had
been a complete waste. All he'd tried to do was talk to the girl, yet she backed
away with horrified eyes. She didn't even know what he was going to say. Unfolding
the map and peering over it, Takashi studied his redheaded conundrum.

What goes on in that pretty little head of hers?

She needed to hear the truth about him soon, before she found out some other way.
Taking his feet off the bucket, he scooted forward. "Harlow, there's something-"

"Land ho!" shouted Felix from the bow.

Land? Up here? Are we about to hit a mountain?

Takashi jumped up from the bench and moved to the railing. In the distance, puffs
of clouds gathered around a massive floating object off the starboard side of the
ship. From every direction, vessels of all kinds appeared out of nowhere,
descending on the city in the air like arrows soaring toward a target. When had the
skies become so crowded? Most airships resembled the dirigibles he'd heard England
was known for. Their bulbous oblong balloons were dressed in every color
imaginable. It was as if a rainbow exploded into bubbled fragments across the
heavens.

"Amazing, isn't it?" He didn't turn at Harlow's voice. He had the feeling she
didn't look at him either. How could anyone tear their eyes away from such a
wonder?

Not counting that it floated in the air, Upper Portsmouth itself was the strangest
city he'd ever laid eyes on. The dark sooty architecture of London was an
adjustment. This place was all together awe-inspiring. Houses, windmills, and clock
towers all perched precariously on the outer rim of the city, surrounded by hordes
of trees that extended to the very edge. Behind them, towers of all sizes jetted
out from the city's center, shimmering like marine-colored glass in the morning
sun. And everything, absolutely everything, sat on one gigantic rock suspended in
the sky. As the clouds ebbed and swayed like an ocean's current, massive propeller
blades embedded in the rock peeked out beneath them. He had no idea how, but the
blades must have something to do with the city's perpetual flight.

"Brier," called Harlow down to her sister. "Get everyone on deck. Tell them we're
about to dock."

"Aye, aye, captain." Brier put her hand to her forehead to mock a salute.

Harlow muttered something about a thorn bush then turned the ship towards the
harbor. Or at least he assumed the giant tunnel-like structure the airships were
plunging toward was called a harbor.

"Takashi, come here!" Felix beckoned.

Takashi descended the stairs of the stern to join Felix by the starboard railing.
"Would you look at that," Felix said, pointing to a group of airships floating at
the base of the rock.

"What are those?"

The three ships were like nothing floating above. Their bodies each consisted of
two elongated balloons carrying a central ship below. Four metal poles towered
above each ship, and were strung together by a giant blue net.

"They're the City Guardians," Felix said. "The final protection for anyone who
might find themselves unlucky enough to wonder outside the city limits."

Takashi turned to the blond boy, certain he didn't hear him right. "You're saying
they catch people who fall off?"

Felix shrugged. "That's what I'm told they do. But I have seen one in action from
Lower Portsmouth. Wore my binoculars that day at just the right time. Those
beasties might look slow, but trust me, the City Guardians are the speediest
dirigibles I've ever seen."

Takashi couldn't believe his ears. "Wait a minute. You've seen someone fall off the
city?" This new piece of information turned his stomach.

Felix smiled and slapped him on the back. "Aw, don't look so pale, mate. Like I
said, those are some fast ships. But if you're worried they won't do the job, just
try not to fall off the edge."

Takashi frowned, Felix's reassurance having the opposite effect on him. Carolina's
fear of heights didn't sound nearly as silly as it had earlier.

Upper Portsmouth's harbor grew closer, thankfully pulling Takashi's attention away
from the thought of plummeting to his demise. Dozens of steel beams lined the
length of the dock, extending at least two hundred feet up before joining into a
sharp angular ceiling. Gold and red flags hung from the ceiling, swaying in the
wind like strings of ribbon. A massive gap between the two sides of the harbor gave
room for the airships to port. Harlow rested Gertrude in a free space, hovering
beside a dock full of bustling people, clanking echoes, and hot steam shooting out
in near musical patterns.

"This is ridiculous," Brier snorted, approaching them from the opposite side of the
deck.

Felix pushed off the railing to come alongside her. "What is?"

"Your sister refuses to leave her cabin. Here I was thinking she wanted to go on
this batty trip. But when Mouse and I tried to get her to come topside, she snubbed
us. Said she wants to keep watch over the ship. That, and Norton went along with
the silly notion, saying he'd stay to protect her. Then Mouse nearly knocked the
bloke out to take his spot here. It took every ounce of convincing I had to get him
to snap to. It is his uncle we're looking for after all."

"Did Harlow say it was okay for Carolina to stay here?" asked Felix.

"She said she's your sister so you can decide."

"Oh now I get to decide." Felix let out a laugh and shook his head. "Fine. I didn't
want her coming along in the first place."

Brier raised an eyebrow. "Okay, if that's what you want." She mumbled to herself
about complicated Goodwins as she left.

"At least her fear of heights is still intact. Should've known she'd stay in her
quarters." Felix bent down to grab some rope. "Here, help me with these. We'll tie
up to the dock until the Docking Guard inspects and then clears us."

Takashi unraveled the rope by his feet. "And if he doesn't?"

"Then it's back home. Oh, look, there he is. The big one."

A tall burly man stepped on the ship ahead of Gertrude. He wore a long black
overcoat with the collar flipped up high as to touch the edge of his garrison cap.
While his dark hair was cut close to his skin beneath the cap, his thick mutton
chops curled out wildly on the sides of his face. With hands behind his back, he
stuck out his chin. Actually looking at those he inspected seemed to be a job for
his cronies. Two cowering men scrambled about, asking questions and taking papers.

The Docking Guard's standards must not have been met. When one of the two men gave
him papers, he shook his head then left the ship. The captain and his mates sulked
as they prepared to leave the dock.

Takashi leaned over to Felix. "Let's hope Meriwether has the right paperwork."

"We'll find out soon enough, mate. Here he comes."

The two men came up and boarded Gertrude with the Docking Guard close behind.

"Welcome to Upper Portsmouth," said the brown haired one on the right. "Please
retrieve your admittance papers."

"Right away, guv. Meriwether!" Felix called.

"Be right there." Meriwether sauntered up behind them, shuffling papers in his hand
and scratching his curly head. "Think this is them."

Takashi groaned. "You think?"

"Eh, legal muck all looks the same ta me. Here ya are." Meriwether waved a
nonchalant hand in the air before handing them to the Docking Guard's assistant.

The man examined at each paper in detail. His eyes widened. "Sir, look." He passed
the papers to his superior.

As the man surveyed the documents, a creepy smile grew on his face then disappeared
in a flash. Eyes fixed on Meriwether. He slammed the papers against the brown
haired man's chest.

"Get the Chief Inspector. Tell him we found the one he's looking for."

The two men rushed off the ship.

"Boys," he said, his voice intimidating and booming."You, and everyone here, gather
your things. You're coming with me."

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you thought in the comments. And if you
liked the chapter, please remember to vote.
"Hey, hey!" Harlow cried, tearing down the stairs of the stern castle two steps at
a time. "What's going on? Where are you taking my crew?" She reached the gangplank
in no time and blocked its exit, arms crossed over her chest.

The behemoth by the plank didn't lower his head, but the revulsion curling his lips
was no doubt directed at her. "Take the little one too," he ordered the skinny
underling beside him. The metals strewn over his officer's coat jingled when he
turned at the waist.

Harlow's blood boiled at the insult. "Little one? I'll have you know, I'm Captain
of this vessel, and as such should be first to know--"

Her words cut off in a squeak as the man pushed past her, nearly knocking her onto
the dock. Arms flailing, she struggled to find balance. His subordinate took hold
of her wrist and pulled her upright. "This way if you please, Miss, um, err,
Captain."

Harlow straightened out her skirt, and thanked the thin man. His pleading eyes
begged her to follow orders. She sighed. Who knew how brutal his superior was when
he didn't get his way. And no way she'd find out what was going on staying there.
Before she stepped down the plank, she dared one last look on Gertrude's empty
deck. Carolina and Norton were still below. It was probably good the officers
hadn't searched the ship. If worse came to worse, Norton was a great pilot. Surly
he could fly home and get some help . . . all by himself, without a crew. Harlow
groaned.

What a mess.

The space between her and her mates grew by the minute. As they crossed the wide
dock, Harlow knew she couldn't keep up if she wanted to. Covered with sleek steam
cars, segmented cargo trolleys, and a mass amount of military gents, the dock's
traffic didn't make following her mates any easier. Wherever that officer was
lugging them off to, he sure was in a hurry.

Leaving the dock behind, they slipped into the main city, its enormous structures
pierced the clouds above. Morning sunlight glided through gaps between buildings
and lit up the nearby walls in flecks of gold. Unlike London's arched and rigid
architecture, Upper Portsmouth's smooth, crystal-like buildings were covered in
circular porthole windows and topped off with elaborate filigreed domes. Or at
least the roofs she could see were domed.

"The Chief Inspector is just around the corner, Miss," the man said behind her.

"Chief Inspector?" So they were being hauled away like criminals. As if finding one
man in a colossal flying city wasn't hard enough, they had to deal with local law
enforcement the second they docked?

The man passed her up before they turned the corner. He led her to a spot where her
friends stood outside an ivy covered building with a circular door at its center.
The rude man from earlier bent his enormous body to speak with someone through a
slit in the brass door. A little ways from him, her mates gathered in a huddle.

"What have you gotten us into?" Takashi asked. He leaned against the leafy wall,
his arms crossed and his glare throwing daggers into Mouse's head.

"I've no idea," Mouse shot back, worry etched his face.

"You have no idea? They said you're the one they're looking for. How can you not
know?"

Mouse shrugged. "Me Uncle's papers grant him and anyone in his family entrance into
the city. Nothin' more. Maybe they've got the wrong bloke."

Takashi rolled his eyes. The round door opened with a woosh. All heads turned to
the sunlight spilling out behind it. Harlow stepped forward amazed. What appeared
to be an enclosed building was in fact just an ornate façade. Potted greenery and
hanging bowls bursting with colorful flowers filled what looked like a grand
solarium.

"Alright, this way, then," ordered the brute, as he ducked through the door. "Don't
keep the Inspector waiting."

Inside the solarium, birds chirped in song like melodies, and a heavy aroma of dirt
and pollen floated through the warmer than usual air. Above her, a wrought iron
dome caged them in from the surrounding buildings and the underside of dirigibles
floating by. Water trickled through the mechanical waterfalls built into several
paneled fish tanks scattered about. Below her, a black onyx floor reflected her
image so clearly, she was yet again grateful for the trousers under her tool skirt.

The Docking Guard stomped his feet together beside a group of men seated on couches
having tea. "Inspector, we have the boy you're looking for."

The only man puffing a pipe, rather than sipping from a cup, tapped the carved
ivory to his lips and grinned. "Have you now?" he said. Then with a wave of his
hand, he dismissed the men beside him. "Splendid. That will be all, Sergeant
Mallory. I've got it from here."

The giant man, or rather Sergeant Mallory, frowned and nodded before turning away.
Perhaps he expected at least a that-a-boy for his efforts.

The Inspector stood, straightening his tan tweed jacket that covered a honey yellow
waistcoat. "Come. Sit," he said, patting the cushion of the couch he relinquished.
She and her mates obliged, though no one sat in the man's chair. He reeked of stale
tobacco.

Running his fingers through the tuff of dirty blond hair on his head, the Inspector
moved about the solarium. "Welcome, children, to Upper Portsmouth. I do hope your
unexpected visit to my dwellings, and the sergeant's abrasive demeanor, weren't too
alarming. Docking guards can be rather blunt at times. Not that they mean to be,
mind you. It's the nature of the job. Were we under different circumstances, you'd
be shown to a guide and given a tour of our great city. But as it is, we have
urgent business to discuss." He took another puff before fiddling with the leaves
of a hanging plant. "Now, which one of you is Meriwether Sutton?"

Mouse eyebrows shot up. He must've really thought they had the wrong person.
"That'd be me sir."

"Ahh yes. I should've known. That curly hair of yours is a dead giveaway," he said,
scratching his short beard. "To be honest, we thought you'd arrive earlier, why
with all the letters your uncle sent you."

Mouse sat straight in his seat. "You know me Uncle Oliver?"

"Known him for years. He was the Head Smith of Upper Portsmouth during our
technological renovation period. Why, most of the city you see now is either
crafted or designed by him. He's here, this moment, working on some new projects in
the Jade Smithy a few blocks away."

Harlow's jaw loosened. Mr. Whittle? A Smith? Sure, the old man held intelligent
eyes, but didn't fit the workaholic type. "Wait a second, are we talking about the
same Oliver Whittle?" she asked. "You're saying he's a Smith?"

Mouse's expression turned sour, and his shoulders slumped. "Aye, but when me mum
died, he said he gave up all tha smithin' ta be with me. That's why he took tha job
at Featherington. Said he couldna smith and spend quality time with me. Guess he
chose ta be a Smith after all. Thought I could trust him. Shoulda known. Everyone
in me family just lets me down."

Takashi leaned over and patted Mouse on the back, his face stretched in what Harlow
could only describe as sympathy. She rubbed her eyes. She must've been seeing
things.

"Well, my boy," the Inspector said, after puffing more on his pipe, "I don't know
about all that. Smithing is a very addictive profession, so I'm told, but he hasn't
given up on you. In fact, he's been in a slump of sorts. Says you're the only one
who can get him out of it. If you'd like, I can take you to the Jade Smithy to see
him."

"Would that be okay, Mouse?" Harlow asked, hoping a visit to the man who abandoned
him wasn't too much to ask for.

"It's fine cap'n. I said I'd come here ta help ya, and that's what I aim ta do."

The Inspector clapped once. "Smashing! If you'll all follow me, it shouldn't take
too long to reach the smithy."

The smithy wasn't too far off at all. A block or two from the solarium, they
crossed a narrow bridge only wide enough for pedestrian traffic. Though, there
wasn't any of that other than Harlow, her mates, and the Inspector at the moment.
On both sides of the bridge, buildings dropped down to their resting place on Upper
Portsmouth's cliff side. Ahead, the Jade Smithy, or the Gigantic Green Tower as it
should be named, rested on a floating island. Surrounded by a moat of clouds, it
was connected to the mainland by the bridge alone.

A strange feeling swirled in Harlow's gut at their approach. No one in their right
mind would mistake this place for the dirty work space of a smithy. Something was
very off.

"He's on the top floor. We'll take the lift," said the Inspector, pushing through
the smithy's wooden doors.

Harlow slowed to the back of the group, walking alongside Mouse who took up the
rear. Hopefully he'd clear up one thing that nagged her. "Mouse?" she started in a
hushed voice. "The Inspector said your uncle sent you letters, but you sounded
surprised back there when you heard he's smithing again. Didn't he tell you about
it in his letters?"

Mouse sighed. "I don't know. Never opened 'em."

"What? Why not?"

"It's one of his rules. If a letter ain't in his handwritin', I'm not to open it.
But he also told me he'd never smith again. It doesn't make any sense." Mouse
trotted ahead, his hands stuffed in his trousers' pockets.

Harlow rubbed her temple. His answer only made her more uneasy.

The Jade Smithy was just as enormous on the inside as it was outside. The vaulted
ceiling must have extended at least four floors in what Harlow presumed to be the
lobby. Maybe Brier had seen a smithy with a lobby before, but she hadn't.

"Wow, can you believe this place?" Brier asked, her eyes darting this way and that.

Nope, she hasn't seen one either.

The gold and copper plated lift was similarly spacious. Decorated with frills and
ornamentation, it reminded Harlow more of a fancy hotel lift than that of an
overgrown smithy.

"I've got a bad feeling about all this." Takashi whispered in Harlow's ear when
they crammed in the lift.

"You're not the only one," she whispered back.

The lift bell rang when it reached the top floor. Its accordion doors opened into a
space that could've been either a workshop or a ballroom for all Harlow could tell.
Only a few green lights scattered on the ceiling and the gas lights in the lift
kept the place from sitting in a shroud of darkness.

A tall bald man, dressed in black, entered the lift as they exited. "Good
afternoon, Inspector," he said, his voice low and even.

"And a good day to you too, Jackson. Whittle must be hard at work already."

The man snickered. "What gave it away?"

"He's the only Smith I know who prefers to toil in a cavern like a bat."

"Too true," Jackson laughed. "Wouldn't be surprised if he had his eyes shut the
whole time. I'd get him for you, but I've got some errands to run. Just call. He'll
answer sooner or later. I see you've brought him some guests. He won't like that."

"I don't think he'll mind. Children, this is Mr. Whittle's assistant, Vincent
Jackson." The inspector nudged Mouse forward. "Jackson, this is Meriwether Sutton,"
He leaned in and winked. "Oliver's nephew."

The man squinted. "You don't say. I've heard a lot about you from your uncle. Is it
true you've inherited his magnificent airship?"

"Gertrude? Aye, we used her to come here. She's on the dockin' grounds right now."

"Impressive. You mean to say you and your friends here flew her by yourselves?"

"Quite, 'cept Carol . . ." Mouse winced when Felix elbowed him in the side. "I
mean, yes all by ourselves."

The man smiled. "I've got to be on my way. Good luck to you with your uncle." He
pushed a button to close the lift, and left them in the dark.
"Whittle!" called the Inspector. "Where are you?"

The only reply came in the form of a buzzing sound accompanied by bright yellow
sparks spewing out in the corner of the room.

"Ah, there you are. Do turn the lights on. We wouldn't want to crash into
anything."

There was no reply, only more buzzing.

"Whittle."

Still nothing.

"Whittle! For heavens' sake answer me, man!"

"Who's making all that blasted noise?" hollered a gruff voice from the corner.

The few gas lamps strung from the ceiling grew brighter, marginally illuminating
the vast workshop. It was a good thing too, as the place was a complete pigsty.
Boxes and jagged tools littered the floor, reminding Harlow of her bedroom, only
way more deadly. A man stood behind the worktable near the corner of the room, with
a blowlamp in one hand and a hammer in the other. He lifted his welding mask,
revealing Mr. Whittle's twin brother. She supposed it could've been Mr. Whittle
himself had he a less perturbed expression on his face. The slightly plump man's
white curly hair fell over his sweaty brow.

"It's me, Whittle," the inspector said, closing the distance between them.

"Inspector Hobbs." Mr. Whittle dropped his tools on a cluttered work table with a
clank. "I know I'm behind schedule, but I do not need a checkup."

"Calm down, Oliver. I'm not here for a review. I've brought you someone you might
want to speak with." The inspector motioned for Mouse.

As Mouse stepped forward, Mr. Whittle rubbed his eyes. "Meri? Is that you?"

"Of course it's me, uncle."

"My word, you've grown. I hardly recognize you."

Mouse looked at him as though he went mad. "What are ya goin' on about? I can't
have grown much."

"Yes, well, you know these old eyes of mine are hardly good for anything but
welding and building. Say, I'd love to catch up with you, but this project is far
too pressing. If you don't mind, can you do me a favor while you're in town?" He
bent down below his worktable and pulled out a small stack of papers.

"My mind has been going nonstop since I began this new project. Instead of
sleeping, my subconscious has me up all through the night writing these nonsensical
ramblings, all addressed to you. They don't hold an ounce of significance, but I
thought if you took them off my hands personally, it might allow me to sleep. I
understand if you don't have the time to read them. In fact, you may want to throw
them in the closest rubbish bin. Either way, I'd appreciate it."

He shoved the papers at Mouse who looked back at him wounded.

"All right then," said Mr. Whittle, completely discounting his offensive behavior.
"You best be off. I've got much more work to do." He came around the table and
edged the zombie like Mouse towards the lift.

To Harlow's disbelief, the rest of the group turned to leave also. She couldn't
believe her eyes. She and her friends didn't come all this way to be given a futile
task and pushed aside. "Wait!" she exclaimed. Sidestepping Mouse, she approached
the old man. "Mr. Whittle. I don't know if you remember me, but my name's Harlow
Morgan. I go to school at Featherington Academy. I really need to talk to you."

"Sorry lass, you're right, I don't remember you. If you'll excuse me."

What's wrong with this man?

Thankfully, Mouse snapped out of his trance. "Uncle, this is me friend from
Featherington. She came here to speak wi' ya, and I'd like it if you'd hear her
out."

Mr. Whittle gave a resigned nod. "Suppose it's best to return a favor with a favor.
But I can't talk at the moment. Come back in say, two hours?"

"Certainly," Inspector Hobbs agreed for them. "Children, let's leave Oliver to his
work. I'll take you downstairs to get a bite to eat. You can come back in a couple
hours."

Unlike Mr. Whittle's workroom, the mess hall in the Jade Smithy was spotless. Yet
another oddity in a place supposedly full of greasy workaholic Smiths. Not only
that, but other than the cooks, Harlow and her mates were the only ones in the
small whitewashed room. Smiths were known for their work obsession, but didn't any
of them eat? Maybe they had their food brought to them.

Inspector Hobbs thanked them for all their assistance and told them their guide
would receive them after they revisited Mr. Whittle to take them back to Gertrude.
He left them moments before they got their lunch.

"This is the strangest smithy I've ever been to," Harlow said then bit into her egg
and cheese sandwich.

"I agree," said Brier absently, her face pressed into a page of the papers she
freshly dug from the rubbish. Mouse had thrown them away in the first bin he found.
Brier immediately retrieved them, brushed off the crumbs, and proceeded to lecture
him on the potential brilliance he discarded. "Strange place. Stranger Smith."

Sometimes her sister could be so unfeeling. Who cared if those dreaded papers
contained brilliance? Couldn't she see them tearing Mouse apart?

He slouched far down in his chair with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.
"I'm sorry any of ya had ta witness that," he muttered, more to the table than to
them.

Takashi gave Mouse a almost friendly nudge. "It's all right. Your uncle's the one
who should apologize. Family shouldn't treat each other so poorly."

Brier tossed the papers on the table, making the already wobbly thing shake. "Hate
to say it, but he's right," she said, causing them all to gape at her in disgust.
"Sorry, I meant Mr. Whittle was right. None of this makes any sense. It reads more
like really bad poetry than the subconsciously inspired ramblings of a Smith." She
picked up the first page. "I mean take the title for instance. Huntsmen be All
Prepared. What sort of introductory title has nothing to do with the poem beneath
it? I can't imagine why there are no blueprints, formulas, or in-"

"What did ya say?" Mouse shot up in his chair. His eyes wider than two saucers.

"Um . . . I said I'm surprised to see rather horrid poetry and not blueprints,
formulas, or instructions."

"No, not tha', what did ya say the title was?"

Brier glanced down at the paper. "Huntsmen be All Prepared?"

"That's not poetry." He yanked the wrinkled paper from her hand. "It's a bloody cry
for help."

Thank you for reading this installment in A City in the Air. If you like what
you've read, please remember to vote and comment. I love hearing what you think!

Tell me your guesses. What's up with Whittle and that note?

Carolina kicked over a wash bucket on the flying machine's empty deck, splashing
dirty water into a sloppy puddle. She'd searched the length of the vessel twice
without finding a soul. Why no one bothered to tell her where they were going, or
that they were leaving in the first place, was beyond her.

How could they do this to me?

At least Norton was still on the forsaken flying ship with her--whatever assurance
that was. She'd told him everyone was gone, but he didn't care. He said it was fine
as long as he got home before Monday, then proceeded to take a nap, of all things,
in his quarters.

She pulled out a small velvet bag from the pocket fold of her beige bustle skirt,
and emptied its contents into her palm. One pill left. She bit her lip and ran her
fingers through her already dulling hair. Who knew how long the last beauty pill
she took would last. She had to get off this ship. And soon. At least she didn't
need to come up with an excuse to sneak away. A small compensation that did nothing
for her self-esteem. Didn't they care what happened to her? At least Harlow
could've said, "Hey, Carolina, we're going now, be back soon."

She lifted the hem of her skirt to step onto the rickety plank attached to the
dock. Below the thin piece of wood, the ground evaporated into white clouds of
death. Her world spun. She fell to her knees, gripped the edges of the plank, and
slammed her eyes shut. One excruciating wobble forward after the next, she made her
way to the end of the board. Her feet slid around and touched solid ground. Yet
when she straightened herself out, she was met with grimaces of horror on faces of
snobby passersby.

"Never seen a lady get off a ship before, have you?" she said, her chin up, giving
them a what for. As she adjusted the placement of her houndstooth mini top hat, her
critics moved along with grumbles and huffs.

Good riddance.

Her fingers slid under the chain round her neck and nudged the golden pendant watch
forward. Ten thirty-six. Drat. All that milling about on the ship had cost her a
good twenty minutes. Late already, with no clue where to go. She felt around the
silk of her skirt pocket for the folded paper resting by her pill bag. On its
surface was scribbled the name of the café she was to meet the liaison who would
give her further instructions. But it'd be nice if it told her where the place was.
Near the dock didn't help a lick when cloud obscured buildings lined the entire
port. Drat. Drat. Drat. She stomped her foot and turned the note over. Surely, he
wrote something on the back. No, nothing. A frustrated grunt grumbled from her gut.

"Something amiss?" The throaty male voice beside her broke through her anxiety.
Lowering the note, she gazed up at a tall gent wearing a sable suit and a sincere
smile.

Finally, someone cares. "Yes. I'm looking for the Grassroots Café. Do you by chance
know where that is?"

"I do, Miss. But first, you wouldn't happen to be Carolina Goodwin?"

Shocked, she set her gaze on him. Examining him head to toe she was positive she
didn't know the man. "Yes, but . . . I'm sorry, do I know you?"

He removed his top hat, exposing a bald head. "The name's Vincent Jackson. I was
sent here to meet you by our mutual friend. Mortimer Charleston."

Takashi's anxiety began to rub off, giving Harlow nervous itches and a stomach
ache. He checked his pocket watch at least four times in the past minute. He must
know time didn't fly by that quickly. She leaned over and snapped it shut in his
hand.

"You could always count to sixty before you check it again," she whispered.

"Sorry." He slid the watch back into the pocket of his charcoal trousers and ran a
hand through his already disheveled locks. "I get it. Decoding an encrypted message
takes time, but that guide's going to be here any second."

"He'll have it done," she reassured him. "Look at him go."

Mouse bent over a scattered array of papers strewn across the circular table. He
scribbled away on the blank sheets Brier provided from her satchel, while his eyes
fixated on Whittle's letters. His fingers moved like the internal mechanics of a
steam engine. Ink from Brier's fountain pen soaked page after page. Once done with
a page, he tossed it to Felix, who in turn read its contents in awe. Harlow wished
he would read aloud, but all she got from the bloke was an occasional my word, or
can't be. As soon as Felix finished, each paper was snatched up by Brier. Her
remarks on Mr. Whittle's coding abilities gave no clues to the letters actual
content.

Harlow ached with curiosity. "Brier," she asked, "are you done yet?"

Brier squinted back and forth from Whittle's letter to Mouse's writings. With a
shake of her head and a deep exhale, she handed Harlow Mouse's translation. "Don't
think I'll ever be done with it. Unless Mouse gives me the secret to deciphering
this, I'm afraid it's far too advanced a formula for me."

Harlow skimmed the message as fast as she could. Takashi was right. They had little
time before the guide arrived.

"Page one is most important," Felix said, tapping the back of Harlow's sheet. "He
hits the nail on the head the first time he wrote this then repeats himself as the
days go by. Probably from all the drugs they gave him."

"Drugs?" Harlow had read where Mr. Whittle was captured by the Upper Portsmouth
guards, led to the Jade Smithy to work on projects against his will, and made
several attempts to escape. But so far, there hadn't been any drugging.

"Ah yes, there it is," Takashi said, pointing two paragraphs down from where she
was. She skipped the paragraph in-between and went straight for the drugging.
Apparently, Mr. Whittle was given a daily dose of a compound in his morning tea
while at the Jade Smithy. He didn't know the name of the drug, but he was very
certain of its effects. Every day he'd forget large chunks of time. It was as if
his memory reverted back to a time of empty complacency. Before he had someone to
care for. Before Mouse. Back to when he was a Smith.

The first time he drank the tea, Mr. Whittle knew he was drugged, but the drug
itself was so strong that he could do nothing about it in his conscious state of
mind. Luckily, he'd trained his subconscious to take over in case of emergencies
and communicate in code. He must've been in this kind of predicament before. Why
else would he train Mouse so well? The more Harlow found out about this man, the
more she realized she knew nothing at all.

"He's coming," said Takashi, grabbing the pages from Harlow's grasp.

Mouse looked up and scrambled to get all the papers back in a stack.

"Good afternoon," said the round, heavily freckled man. "I'm Gus Briggsby. I'll be
your guide today. This way please."

"And over here, you see the highly modernized architectural skills echoed
throughout the city," rambled Mr. Briggsby. He led them back to Mr. Whittle's
workshop, constantly pointing at this pillar or that chandelier. Apparently, every
single structure held a mind-numbing backstory. Harlow didn't remember it taking
this long to get to the mess hall. Briggsby must have taken them on the scenic
route. Felix and Brier egged him on with questions he was more than willing to
answer. At least the man's jabbering allowed the rest of them to hang back and
hatch a plan.

"You don't think they'll do anything terrible to him, do you?" Harlow asked in a
hushed voice.

"Not while they need him." Mouse waved his hand above his head, mimicking Briggsby.
"Tha whole city's designed by him. Even Gertrude was one of his works. Letters
poured in, beggin' him to return after me mum died. Refused 'em all, thank heavens.
But I had no idea he was in any danger wi' these people."

"No, but he did," said Takashi. "The bottom of the first letter said he feared this
would happen. If he knew how dangerous a return to this city was, then why would he
risk coming back here?"

"Guess we'll 'ave ta ask him that."

"But how?" Harlow had a feeling this wasn't going to be easy. "He's so drugged up.
We can't speak to him rationally."

A smile stretched Mouse's lips. "Then we'll have ta speak ta him irrationally."

Before she could ask what he meant, they arrived at Mr. Whittle's workroom. The
space was substantially brighter this time around, which didn't do it any favors.
Harlow was amazed she didn't trip over anything before. Paint buckets, tools, and
piles of wood and stone were scattered haphazardly across the wooden floorboards.

Mr. Whittle, however, stood just as she remembered him. Behind his desk, working
away. This time on blueprints. From the scowl on his face, it was obvious he didn't
want to be disturbed, but deep down inside he didn't want to be drugged either.

"I'll need enough time ta say a few key words to him." Mouse whispered to her and
Takashi as the rest of them exited the lift. "He don't like bein' bothered wi'
nonsense, so keep him interested while I babble on."

Harlow had no idea what he meant, but Takashi nodded in agreement.

"Hello, Oliver," Mr. Briggsby boomed, tugging on the popped collar of his olive
waistcoat. "You've got some guests."

Mr. Whittle's eyes met them for a split second before he returned to drawing lines
on his blueprint. "Ah, yes, my favor has returned. Show them in Gus."

"Right this way." Mr. Briggsby yanked Takashi and Mouse from the lift by the arms,
and Harlow followed. "Oliver? I know the inspector wanted me to watch over these
children for the day, but seeing as they'll be in your workroom for a while, I was
hoping I could . . . um . . . take care of a few things."

Mr. Whittle pushed his spectacles down away from the bridge of his nose, glaring
over their rims at the other man. "Just don't go too far. I'm no babysitter."

With those words, Briggsby hurried his round body into the lift and out of sight.

"Crazy fool," Mr. Whittle mumbled. "Can't keep his hands off the slots downstairs."
Since the Jade Smithy was really a corrupt prison, Harlow supposed it wasn't too
odd for this "smithy" to have slot machines. Whittle tossed his writing utensils
and leaned on the table. "Now, lass. What's your name again?"

"Harlow Morgan, sir."

"Good a name as any. What do you want to speak with me about?"

She cleared her throat. What she originally wanted to say seemed irrelevant, but
she might as well give it a shot. "You see sir, a week or so ago, I told this lie.
One that got quite a few people in trouble, and-"

"That can be a bother," Mr. Whittle interrupted, rubbing his temple, "but wouldn't
you rather see a counselor for something like that? What's it got to do with me?"

Harlow opened her mouth, taking a second to find her voice. She'd just begun, and
the man had already cut her off. "It's the people I got in trouble," she answered.
"They're friends of yours."

He raised a brow. "Friends of mine? Meri, do you know anything about this?"
"I for one 'ave never seen people who held strong plans want."

Mr. Whittle, and for that matter everyone but Takashi, gaped at him confused. "Odd
response," his uncle said. "Do continue, Miss. What friends of mine are you
referring to?"

If he didn't remember taking care of his nephew for years, surly he wouldn't
remember the Japanese immigrants he assisted. She had to try anyways. "Miss Himura
and the students from Japan."

Mr. Whittle laughed. "Japan? Miss Morgan, I do believe you have me mistaken for
someone else. Not that I know who that someone else could be. Japan has been cut
off for hundreds of years. I assure you I have no friends there."

"Uncle, please hear us out. What we said had far thinking men taken."

"Gads, boy, what are you going on about? I think I've heard enough." He swerved
around the desk, showing them toward the door. "As you can plainly see, I'm not the
one who you're looking for. I don't have any time to waste on misunderstandings or
nonsensical gibberish."

"Wait!" Takashi exclaimed. "If you don't have time to help us, maybe we can show
you something you would be interested in."

"What could you possibly have that would interest me?"

Takashi grabbed Harlow's arm and pulled up her sleeve of her jacket. "This." Light
burst from her forearms, filling the room with a blue glow.

"What on earth?" Mr. Whittle threw off his spectacles and fumbled for a magnifying
glasses. Moving in, he reached for Harlow's arm. "May I?" he asked before touching
her skin. She nodded. His fingers traced the symbols and marks hashed across her
flesh. "Astounding. Absolutely astounding. Such highly advanced technology.
Definitely not bioluminescence alone. Tell me where you came across this."

"It was at tha well. And too easily adjusted," Mouse said, half smirking, half in
awe of her arms as well.

Mr. Whittle rolled his eyes. "Since I'm fairly certain your friend didn't stumble
upon something like this in a well, I'm going to assume you're still talking
drivel. Here," he led Mouse to an empty work bench, "have a seat. Maybe if you rest
a while, your brains will come back to you."

As Mr. Whittle returned to her, Mouse leaned back on the bench with a grin of utter
satisfaction plastered on his face. He nodded at Takashi and pointed to the door.

"Can anyone of you, not affected by my nephew's crazed speech, give me some more
information on this girl's arm?" Whittle asked.

"I'm afraid not, sir." Takashi pulled Harlow's sleeve back down before Whittle
could continue his examination. "I think we should be on our way. You do have an
important project to finish. We wouldn't want to hold you up."

Mr. Whittle's jaw tensed. "You've got to be joking, my boy. You don't show a
curious mind something so intriguing just to walk away."

Mouse got up from the bench and put his hand on his uncle's shoulder. "Well, then,
we'll be back. How does tomorrow mornin' sound uncle? You'll 'ave plenty of time to
come up wi' some questions for us then."
Mr. Whittle relaxed. "Meri, I think that's the brightest thing you've said all
afternoon. Tomorrow morning it is. Let's say right after elevenses? I'll be awake
by that time."

Just then, the lift bell rang and Mr. Briggsby slumped in the room. A sour
expression contorted his freckled features. "Time's up Oliver," he said with a
pout.

Mr. Whittle feigned pity. "Bad luck with the slots, Gus?"

"I don't want to talk about it," the man huffed. "Hurry up now. I've got things to
do."

"And people to pay," Mr. Whittle muttered. "I'll see you all tomorrow."

They followed Mr. Briggsby into the lift now rank with cigarette smoke. Unlike
before, the bloke didn't utter a peep all the way down. And instead of his
lingering stride, he booked it out the Jade Smithy and across town. It was a good
thing they'd been down the streets of Upper Portsmouth before. Otherwise they'd
lose him in an instant.

"I don't think he wants to talk," Brier said between breaths.

"Thank heavens," said Felix, "I won't have to pretend to care."

Brier's jaw dropped. "You were faking?"

"You weren't?"

"No, architectural history interests me."

Felix patted her shoulder. "And there's nothing wrong with that, Bri. But I for one
am more interested in what the blazes happened in that room."

Takashi gestured for Felix to keep his voice down, but then shrugged when he eyed
the gap between them and Mr. Briggsby. "I had no choice. We needed to buy
Meriwether more time."

"Time for what? Speaking like an utter lunatic? You know we have to keep the light
a secret."

Brier hit Felix in the chest then turned to Mouse. "You weren't speaking like a
lunatic, were you Mouse?" Her eyes lit up. "You were talking in code."

"Not exactly. It's similar ta that, but more like trigger words. Uncle Oliver
taught 'em ta me when I was a lad. If I say 'em when he's not in his right mind,
his subconscious takes over and does what I ask it to. I dinna think it was
possible 'till one day he worked so hard at Featherington that he came home
mentally exhausted. Thought I'd try it out, and what do ya know, I had a brand new
unicycle waitin' for me in tha mornin'.

"Felt so bad the next day I used some trigger words to get him to return it wi' out
knowin' I tricked him in tha first place. Didn't work of course. He was in his
right mind and caught me in the act, he did. He never got mad at me, but only said
he had to train himself better against words that don't produce a positive result.
Knowin' what his subconscious wants now, I'm sure these trigger words 'll sink in."

"So what did you tell him?" asked Harlow.

"Don't drink the tea."

Here they came at last. Good thing too. All this food was going to waste if it were
just her and the scrawny boy to eat it. Carolina might have enough of an appetite
to stomach a plate or even two, but she doubted Norton could finish more than
several bites. Really, weren't boys supposed to eat more than girls? Ever since she
returned from her meeting with Vincent Jackson, Norton had made her feel like such
a glutton.

He refused to taste test her peppered beef stew or delicious bread pudding. He said
he was too full from breakfast-not that two bites of egg could sustain a normal
human for a full day. Maybe he'd look healthier if he ate more than rabbit sized
portions.

"Ah, so they've returned," Norton said coming out from below deck. Coal covered rag
between his fingers, he wiped around the dirt from his bony hands. He'd been
tinkering in the engineering room most of the day and most likely didn't notice her
when she left. What a spectacular lookout.

"So they have," she deadpanned.

"See, I told you they would." He actually slapped her back. Who did he think she
was? Didn't he know the difference between a lady and one of his grimy mates?
"There was no reason to get all worked up. Mouse would never leave a ship like this
for long."

"Apparently not."

He walked down the length of the ship waving his hands like a complete ninny,
shouting words of welcome. Though somewhat relieved that they showed up, she wasn't
about to be overly cordial to any of them. They, after all, left her. Tolerance and
a warm meal was all she could manage. A portly man led them to the ship then
practically shoved them aboard, before waddling away. They absorbed themselves in
solemn conversation until Harlow met her gaze, left the group, and ran to her place
by the stairs.

"Oh, Carolina," she said, giving Carolina a tight hug. "So glad you're all right.
The dock officials took us away before I could say anything to you. Forgive me."

"They took you?" Odd excuse.

Harlow took Carolina's hands in hers and squeezed. Sincerity spilled from her eyes.
"It's a long, long story. Where do I begin?"

Carolina bit her lip, feeling a bit stupid. So they didn't leave her on purpose.
Knowing Harlow didn't mean to leave her out made the guilt of keeping her own
secrets roil in her gut. Maybe now was a good time to let her friend in on
everything.

And it's not like helping Morty was a big deal. All she was doing was a simple
favor for a friend-one that offered to help Harlow. Surely that's why Morty wanted
her to flirt with Meriwether, get on the ship, and report back with anything
peculiar. Sure, favors with Morty came with rewards, but she'd do it regardless if
it meant keeping her friend safe. Just like when he had asked her to warn Harlow
about the Magics rumor. It was so easy and well worth it. Or at least she thought
it was until Harlow continued to associate with these people. Will she ever learn?
The thought of the miracle pills Morty had given her in return for keeping an eye
on her mate made her grin. Her skin grew in radiance and her hair shown like white
gold. Over time, the effects wore off, but she knew where to get more.

Harlow will understand why I need the beauty pills. She won't judge me.

Her mind made up, she pulled out of Harlow's grip. "I need to talk to you about
something first."

"There you are," Meriwether interrupted, his brawny frame dwarfing Harlow as he
stepped around her. "Too bad ya couldn't come with us Carolina, but-" He sniffed
the air. "Is that beef stew?"

How annoying. She finally mustered up enough courage to make a confession to Harlow
only to be cut in by a hungry boy. She tried to pull off her best go-away-or-else
stare, but it didn't faze him.

"I love beef stew. Is it ready?" he went on.

She gave in. "Yes, but you'll need to wash up first. Your hands are filthy." Bad
hygiene must be mandatory for people who flew regularly. Ugh, even Harlow could
benefit from a little more soap.

Meriwether glanced down. "Oh right," he said, wiping his palms on his dingy cream
shirt.

She flinched. "Ugh. There's a perfectly good
shirt, use this." She reached into her skirt
something else fell to the ground. Stupidly,
Meriwether enough time to pick up the folded
read the first few lines. Or at least that's
sink below deck. Instead of using your
pocket for a clean rag when it and
she went for the rag first, leaving
note. She flicked the rag, while he
all she hoped he read.

"Who's Jackson?" he asked.

Horrified, she ripped the paper from his hands. "It's no one." She folded the note
and returned it to her pocket.

"No one, eh? Then why would ya have a letter wi' his name on it in your skirt?"

"It's none of your business."

"Huh," mused Harlow, "what a coincidence. We just met a man named Jackson today in
the city."

Carolina knew for certain it was the same Jackson, but this wasn't how she wanted
to confess to her friend. Not in front of a nosy boy who stepped on her nerves. "I
doubt it's the same one," she lied. "I know this bloke from school."

"From school huh? You two close?" Meriwether asked, his body closing in on her.

She narrowed her eyes and stood her ground. "Why, yes we are, and that's why I said
it's none of your business." There. That ought to shut him up.

Only, it didn't. "What, so he's your boyfriend then?" His whole face scrunched up
with anger. As if he had any right to be upset. She was the one who should be
offended.

"And what if he is?"

He loomed over her in a way that would make most girls cower. Not her though. She
jetted out her chin and tightened her lips. He'd learn she wasn't a weak-willed
girl to be bullied.

"Then you're right. It wouldn't be any business 'o mine. Cap'n," he said. Without
turning his head, he addressed Harlow. "I'm goin' ta bed early. Suddenly, I'm no'
hungry anymore." Leaving, he walked past her so closely, he nearly toppled her
over.

"What was all that about?" Harlow asked.

Carolina rolled her eyes. "Oh, you know how jealous boys get."

Harlow looked behind her at Felix and Takashi. "No, not really."

"You're lucky then. It's annoying."

"So what did you want to talk to me about?"

She didn't want to talk to anyone about anything anymore. Meriwether sucked that
all out of her. What a nuisance. What kind of person reads someone's private
belongings without permission, and then thinks they have the right to be angry with
the contents? It's not as if she were dating him. She could do what she pleased,
without telling a soul.

"Carolina?"

"Sorry, Har. Can we finish this later?"

"Yeah, of course."

She nodded and led the way. "I'll get dinner on the table." At least she had one
less plate to prepare. Ridiculous boy.

The beef stew was the worst she'd ever made. Bland and cold. A few bites in and
Carolina pushed the rest about with her spoon.

"And that's why we need to know why Whittle's here in the first place." Takashi
continued their strange conversation from the opposite side of the table.

Carolina stood to throw out her stew. Everyone else devoured theirs, but she
couldn't push another bite past her lips. "Maybe the old man left something here.
From what you've said so far, that's what I'd do." That is, if they were talking
about the same thing. Harlow's recap was confusing to say the least.

"Maybe it's one of the notes," Brier cried, bouncing in her chair for some reason.

Takashi shook his head. "No, if it were here, Harlow's arms would be a different
color. The words on one host give off a sapphire light. Two notes in close
proximity glow the color of rubies, and all three together shine pure white."

"How do you know it's not here?" asked Brier. "Perhaps Mr. Whittle didn't leave one
in the Jade Smithy and that's why Har wasn't glowing um, red. Maybe she is now."

"Only one way to find out," said Felix. "Harlow, show us your arms."
Harlow stretched out her arm and rolled back the leather to her elbow. Wild blue
light invaded the small eating quarters. Carolina dropped her dish with a
thunderous crash.

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"What's wrong with your arms?" Carolina's voice cracked mid cry, competing with the
crunch of broken glass beneath her shoes. The tawny broth of her stew stained her
pale pink corset and bustle skirt while bits of carrots and potato tumbled down the
material onto the floor below.

Harlow scrambled to roll her jacket sleeves down--cover the jarring light bursting
from her forearms. She should've known. Should've broke the news of her condition
to her friend gently. Or at least told her while the girl was sitting down. But she
hadn't been thinking. "I can explain . . ." Except she couldn't explain. Nothing
that had happened in the past few days was easy to wrap her own mind around, let
alone voice them aloud.

Where words failed her, Felix spoke up. "Carolina, calm down." With his napkin, he
brushed some potato from his sister's skirt.

"I bloody well will not calm down," she exclaimed, slapping his hand away. "My
friend is lit up like a gaslamp, and you want me to calm down? Excuse me, but maybe
someone should've warned the only person not privy to this--or for that matter
any--information on this blasted trip."

Felix rose to his feet, arms across his chest. His body bent in indignation. "I
didn't tell you yet because I know how you are. Take a breath. Sit down. I'll
explain what needs to be explained, but believe it or not Carolina, you don't need
to know everything."

The fireworks behind Carolina's cerulean eyes sparked at her brother's orders.
Harlow cringed, pushing back into her wooden chair. This wasn't the first time
she'd witnessed Felix treat his sister like an infant. And if this was anything
like last time, Harlow needed to get as far out of the kitchen as soon as possible.
"I . . . um . . . think I'm going to go get--"

"Oh right, I forgot," Carolina cut her off, her fiery gaze burning holes into her
brother's frame. "I have a loud mouth, don't I? Can't keep it shut to save my life?
You may think you know me so well, but you don't." She double fisted the fabric of
her skirt, and spun to the door. "Here, I'll make it easier for you. Keep your
precious secrets from me. I'll be in my quarters." Turning the corner, she
disappeared into the dark.

Felix tossed his hands in the air and collapsed in his seat. "And that's why she
shouldn't be on this ship. Should've known better than to have you show your arms
in front of her. Who knows what stories she's already making up in her head?"

Takashi crossed the room from his place at the end of the table. He bent down
beside Felix to clean the glass and stew. "Then you should tell her the truth.
She's already here. You might as well."

"And we should invite her tomorrow when we go back to the smithy," Brier chimed in.
"Maybe she'll keep Har's arms a secret if she feels more included."

Felix pursed his lips and shrugged off their suggestions. "Don't think that's a
good idea."

Harlow groaned. Surely, he had to see the sense in their words. It was obvious how
poorly Carolina reacted to his superiority complex. Harlow moved around the table
to help Takashi, nudging Felix's shoulder as she passed. "If you don't include her
now, she might do something reckless to spite you, you know," she said.

"Ugh, fine," he grumbled, flicking a cloth to wipe the table. "But I don't want to
hear it from any of you when this all goes pear-shaped."

Harlow couldn't sleep. A strange notion after all that had happened in one day. But
there she was, on the bed, counting knots on the pine ceiling in her quarters.
Worse of all, it didn't take long to count eight knots. She imagined faces in the
wood with the knots for eyes, but it was no use. Her eyes blinked dry and wide. A
walk on deck might help tire her bones.

She rolled out of bed and reached for her lantern, its tiny flame still flickered
from when she lit it hours ago. Her bare feet stuck out beneath her cream linen
nightgown to touch the surprisingly warm floorboards. Gertrude's halls remained
empty as she followed them toward the door leading above deck. But when she cracked
the door open, she found herself transported to another world.

Thick patches of shamrock green grass sprouted over the wooden deck. Owls "whooed"
in the distance, while crickets chirped in rhythm. Once again, her bizarre
surroundings jarred her. No longer docked to a floating city, forest pine and a
jagged cliff side met her instead. A cliff side she knew all too well.

The dragon. Crikey, the dragon.

Its scaly red snout and horn crusted skull rose from the depths. As if beckoned by
the scent of her fear, its nostrils flared, puffing a scorching breath through her
locks. Its three pronged webbed claws mined the rocky dirt, finding purchase and
pulling it from the pit.

Out her peripherals, she spotted something white and fluffy down the length of the
cliff. The lamb. No longer was he across the chasm. He had moved. Crossed the
vastness to meet her where she was. Beating his hoof on the ground and bleating
like a roaring thunder, he beckoned her to him. She gathered the folds of her night
gown and ran. Fire shot into the sky lighting the clouds like boiled lightning. Her
toes collided with a fallen tree branch. She fell to her stomach, hitting the
ground hard. With all her might, she pushed back up, only to be pinned by the
dragon's claw. She spun to face it. Its mouth opened to swallow her. Screaming, she
threw her hands over her face and shot out of bed.

It was a dream.

Her chest heaved. Sweat caressed her skin. The most vivid dream since the time she
was in the coma. Gone was the warm glow of the lantern. Its light must've snuffed
out long ago. She removed the velvety arm covers Brier had made her, and blue light
spilled into her freezing chambers, the softest it's been yet. She splashed water
on her face and arms from the fixed basin by her vanity. In the vanity's mirror, a
frazzled girl with gaslights for arms stared back at her. Carolina was right to be
frightened by her. She sighed. There was no way she was going back to sleep now.

Maybe a real walk on deck will do the trick

She used her arms for light until reaching the deck's door then returned the bands
over her arms. Opening the door, her world returned to as it should be. Gertrude
hung on Upper Portsmouth's dock, still and peaceful against the night sky. Yet an
unfamiliar melody permeated the air. She took a few steps into the open and found
Takashi sitting portside, on a chair he must've moved with his feet propped up
against the ship's railing. He leaned backward playing an exotic song on a violin.

He slid his bow across the strings with his eyes closed. She nearly interrupted him
with a "good evening", or "what are you doing up so late?", but the music compelled
her to remain silent. The slightly sorrowful tune swelled and diminished like a
wave in the ocean. She'd been in orchestra her entire school career, but never had
she heard a piece played with such raw emotion.

She leaned against the railing and gazed into the starlit sky. On the starboard
side, green lights of the city sparkled and danced. But nothing compared to the
natural lights in the heavens. The glare behind them made it difficult to see the
universe in full array, but she had no problem making out her favorite
constellations.

Inhaling the crisp air, she shut her eyes and sailed on Takashi's music. Each note
eased the tension in her neck. One day she might ask him to teach her this song.
The cello would give it just the right bass sound it needed, and of course she
could-

"Are you going to stand there all night without as much as a hello to me?"

She jumped at Takashi's voice.

"Stop doing that," she cried, hand to her chest.

"Doing what?" He didn't miss a beat, gliding his bow while he spoke. Jealousy
flushed her cheeks. With just one word uttered while playing, she'd foul up any
cello piece.

"Scaring me. You nearly gave me a heart attack last time when you popped out of
nowhere."

He smiled, his teeth bright like the stars. Resting his violin by the legs of the
chair, he turned to her. "I'm pretty sure I was sitting next to you for a while
yesterday before you noticed. And wasn't it you who approached me just now?" His
lip stuck out in mock disapproval. "Shame, Harlow. Sneaking up on me in the middle
of the night."

If it were lighter outside, surely he'd see the cherry shade she felt burn in her
cheeks. Thank heavens it was night. "I didn't mean to sneak up on you. I came
outside for some fresh air is all. Heard you playing and thought I'd listen. You're
quite brilliant."

He coughed. "Um, thank you," he said replacing his violin in its case.

"What was the name of that song?"

He rubbed his jaw line where his scar was. "I don't remember exactly how it
translates in English. It has something to do with an everlasting sea and the
moonlight."

"Sounds lovely." She could imagine sailing along the ocean, basking in the
moonlight with Takashi playing that melody. "I forgot you played the violin. I wish
I could've heard you in class."

"Well, you would have if you only gave me the chance," he snapped.

Her face fell. She shouldn't expect his forgiveness so easily, but still, his words
hurt. "I . . . I shouldn't have lied. I knew you weren't a Magic, it's just-" Tears
formed in her eyes as her voice cracked.

"Ugh, I can't believe I said that." He jumped off the chair and grabbed her
shoulders. With his fingers cupping her chin, he raised her eyes to his. "Sorry
Harlow. Please don't cry. You're doing all you can to make up for that day. I
didn't mean anything by it."

"It's okay. I'm all right." She pulled her face from his grasp, sucking in a
calming breath.

Piercing her with ebony eyes, he wiped away a tear from her cheek with his thumb.
His touch burned her skin. Tingles shot from her spine, sinking her under some kind
of spell. Their breath intertwined. She opened her mouth to say something.
Anything. When as suddenly as he held her, he broke the embrace, snapping away.
Turning his back, he rubbed his neck and faced the night sky.

"So, um, why did you say you're out here so late?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I can't sleep." She moved to the railing and wiped the rest of her tears with her
sleeves. The odd buzz still tingled over her skin. Stupid emotions. She had to get
herself under control before he really thought her a blubbering fool. "Ever since
the day I whited out, I've been having strange dreams."

"Whited? Is that a word?"

She grinned. "No, I don't think so. I should probably say blacked out instead. I
always get in trouble for making up words." She shrugged. "I get in trouble for a
lot of things really." She looked over to him and caught a smile slide up his face
before he quickly turned his head. Maybe he had forgiven her. She felt a bit more
at ease. "Anyways, since my coma, I haven't stopped having dreams. Makes it hard to
sleep."

"That's not good," he said absently as he looked at the building next to them.

"No," she yawned. "But I was thinking-do you think there's a connection?"

"Between what?"

"Between the dreams and the notes of-"

Her last word was muted by his hand. "Shushh," he hushed then released her.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"We're being watched." He tilted his head toward something behind him. A few floors
up in a building beside Gertrude, a couple silhouettes huddled around a window
facing them. "They've been staring down at me off and on since I got out here. I
don't think they can hear us from up there, but just in case, we should watch what
we say."
She lowered her voice to a nearly inaudible level. "No, they can hear us if we're
loud. They've got track amplifiers."

"How do you know? They're just blurry figures."

"Maybe to you, but not to me. Those circular dishes with the large antennas aren't
used for much else. Seen my father make plenty of them. Guess they thought they
could get away with it in the dark from so far away. Too bad they're spying on
someone with amazing eyesight." She pointed to her eyes. "Trust me. These eyes of
mine don't lie."

"I'll have to believe you then." He grinned in a way that made her think he was
playing with her. "Think I'll get some shut eye," he said, this time louder.

She nodded. Best not continue any conversation above deck at the moment. "Me too."

Leaving the deck, she returned to her quarters. That walk didn't do her any good.
How was she ever to sleep now that she knew they were being spied upon? She flopped
on her bed, closed her eyes tightly, and hoped sleep would take over. Within
minutes, she drifted off into blessed nothingness.

Takashi woke the next morning with a splitting headache. He tossed and turned all
night, trying to forget how much of a fool he'd been hours earlier. All he wanted
to do was ease his mind with some comforting music from back home. Instead he made
Harlow cry.

Worse yet, he nearly kissed her.

What was wrong with him? One touch on her cheek and he about lost his mind. If he
didn't step back when he did, who knew what would've happened. And knowing
strangers witnessed the whole thing didn't help. At least he had the wits to stop
her from mentioning the notes of light. He swore to himself he'd be more careful.
His mission was too important. He wouldn't let his emotions take control.

Not with her.

Mr. Briggsby arrived in early in a slightly better mood than the night before.
Knowing where they were going this time about, the trip to the Jade Smithy passed
quickly. After Brigsby dropped them off, he mentioned something about a new slot
machine then was on his way.

Once alone, Mr. Whittle turned to address them. "I see you're back," he said,
grumpier than before.

"Yes, uncle," Meriwether said, smiling. It was the first time all morning anything
passed the boy's face other than a frown. Both he and Carolina wore heavy scowls
from the moment they showed themselves. Carolina's attitude lifted slightly when
Felix told her she could come with them, but dropped every time Meriwether shot a
remark at her.

"Well, come in I haven't got all day." Mr. Whittle went quickly to all the windows
and shut the thick curtains. "There are projects to be done and a schedule to
keep."

Takashi's heart fell. Meriwether's trigger words didn't work. This was the same man
they left yesterday. Still drugged. Still out of his mind.
Mr. Whittle went to the door, bolted it, and returned to them pulling out a large
scroll. His countenance instantly changed for the better. A smile plastered itself
across his face, showing the deep wrinkles of a man who frequently grinned.

"And one of those projects," he said as he unrolled the scroll on a tabletop, "is
to find and retrieve the notes of light hidden in the city before I'm once again
drugged and loose a hold of my senses."

Thank you for reading Harlow's adventure! If you like what you've read, please vote
by clicking the star. I love to hear from you, and what you think. Let me know in
the comments!

Looks like not drinking the tea worked! What do you think Whittle will do now with
his senses back?

There they were, those kind silver eyes. Wrinkles wore around the edges from years
of grinning. Harlow's hands dropped to her knees, and she breathed out in relief.

Thank goodness.

Mouse's trigger words had worked. This was the man she remembered. The man who
always tipped his hat to her beside Featherington's entry doors. The man she could
count on for a smile on a rough day.

"Uncle!" Mouse cried, wrapping his arms around his kin. He gripped Whittle's nut-
brown trench coat tight in his fists and lifted the man off the floor.

"Aye, lad, tis me." Whittle patted his nephew on the back then pulled him away.
Holding him at his shoulders, he gave him a once over. "Och, my boy," he said then
rubbed a thumb over the green of Mouse's bruised eye. "He found you then, eh?"

Mouse nodded. Whittle pursed his lips and grabbed the back of Mouse's curly head,
pulling him down against his olive shirt in a snug embrace. "I should've been
there. Gads, I should have been there."

Breaking from the hold, Mouse backed up and rubbed his reddened eyes. "Doesn't
matter. You're here now."

"That I am. And thanks to you and your friends here, I'm in my right mind." Whittle
turned from his nephew to address the rest of them, spreading out the scroll. "And
though I'm a little shocked to see you all up here on your own, I'm mighty glad you
are. Miss Morgan," he said, outstretching a hand to Harlow. "If you'd be so kind?"

She touched the tips of the man's calloused fingers with her own, and carefully
rolled up the sleeves of her jacket. Whittle squinted when the light peaked out and
brightened his face. With his free hand, he worked the spectacles dangling from his
neck over his hooked nose. "Simply remarkable. Here it is, the third one. Opened
and on a host already. Things are progressing much quicker than I anticipated. I
hadn't thought I'd meet a child of light so soon."
"A child of light?" asked Harlow. "What's that?"

Mr. Whittle smiled. "There are multiple definitions for a child of light, but in
this context it refers to a person chosen to bear the notes of light."

"Chosen?" Harlow didn't follow. "I just stumbled upon this. It was an accident."

Whittle shook his head. "Not likely. We may not want them to fall in the wrong
hands, but these boxes can only be opened by those they're meant to be opened by.
Once touched by a child of light, they implant themselves on the host. As you can
see, though I held them personally, I am not a host."

Harlow pulled away from him and lowered her sleeve. His eyes seemed so sincere, yet
his words made her head ache. The box chose her? It could think? Act? What on earth
had she gotten herself into?

"What do you mean the third one?" Takashi asked with a frown. "Are you saying you
know where the other two boxes are?"

"Better than that, my boy, I'm the one who hid them."

Takashi twitched. "Both of them?"

"Yes, the remaining two are hidden in this building." He tapped on the scroll near
the edge. The tea stained paper appeared to be a hand drawn map of Upper
Portsmouth. The flying city's borders reached the edge of the map in an octagonal
shape.

"You see," Whittle continued, "I found one of the notes hidden in Featherington
while you exchange students were in transit to our country. I took a week in the
summer holiday to hide the box here in a place I knew it would be safe, though I
myself would not be. I was careful that time and took every precaution not to be
caught by the rulers of this prison city.

"What I didn't plan for was finding the second note so soon afterward. I began to
make preparations for only a couple days stay as I hid the second box, but I had to
rush things when I found out I was being followed. I don't know how, but the
enemies of light tracked me down and alerted the authorities here. They call
themselves the Red Dragons. A dangerous group of sorcerers who thought they could
torture me into giving up my hiding place." He chuckled. "Too bad for them the
Upper Portsmouth government had me drugged up to my Smithing days. I couldn't tell
those dragons anything if I wanted to."

Red Dragons? Harlow winced. The image of the boy in the alley with a glowing chest
tattoo filled her vision while the heat of her dreams burned her skin. A rush of
cold blood sped through her, weakening her knees.

"You alright?" whispered Brier, catching Harlow by the elbows.

Harlow sunk into her sister's hold, her body returning to itself.

"These people who followed you," she asked Whittle, "are they still here?" Maybe if
she knew more about these red dragons, she wouldn't go all limp noodle at the
mention of their name.

"You can be certain of that, lass, that's why I'll need your help. I can't get to
the note boxes by myself. I'm constantly under surveillance. Don't know who works
for the city and who aligns with the Dragons. Either I'd lead the enemy right to
the notes, or the city would find out I'm sober, kick you all out, and drug me up
for eternity. It won't be an easy task, but-"

"We'll do it," blurted Felix. "I mean, suppose I can only speak for myself, but
we're all here to find the boxes aren't we?"

Harlow cocked her head to the side. She was pretty sure she was there to right a
wrong and get these markings off her skin. But if finding the other boxes meant
everything would go back to normal, then she was in.

"I appreciate the enthusiasm, young man," said Whittle, patting Felix on the
shoulder. "But you might want to hear me out before you dive in head first."
Lifting a red ink pen from his cluttered table, he tapped the building near the
edge of town. "As I said, this is where I hid the boxes. It's the city's arts and
history building, several blocks from the Smithy. It's hardly ever visited except
for the rare city tour, which made it the perfect hiding place.

"Upper Portsmouth has its eyes so set on the future, it neglects its past. When I
redesigned the city, I negotiated the funding for this arts and history center. I
needed a place to store a few things, and they needed me to happily smith their
projects. Went along smoothly until they tried to force me to keep going after the
deal was done."

"So ya never wanted ta come back here ta be a Smith again?" asked Mouse.

"Not a chance. I have more important business in London. My smithing days had their
advantages, but ultimately left me empty. Who cares about the next new building or
invention when I have a nephew living in constant danger of his father?"

Mouse rubbed the corner of his black eye. Harlow could tell from his small grin
that Whittle's words affected him deeply. "Then we've gotta get ya out o' here,
Uncle. Right away."

"Well, Meri. Like I said, I'm being watched. I can't just walk out of here. And if
I do, there will be no way to retrieve the boxes before I'm captured again. We'd
have to leave this city and the notes behind. Unopened and useless."

"I don't care about tha bloomin' notes. I want me uncle back," Mouse cried, his
fists balled by his sides. He turned to Harlow so fast it gave her a start. "Sorry
cap'n. I know I said I'd help ya, but I've got ta find a way ta free the only real
family I've got left."

She nodded. Put in his position, she'd do the same. What's a box of blinking lights
compared to family? Good family? And heavens, Mouse needed good family right then.
But what if . . . "We could split up," she offered. "Some of us go after the boxes,
and some of us find a way to break Mr. Whittle out of here."

Whittle rubbed his whiskered chin, pondering her suggestion. "You know, Briggsby is
required to give a decent tour to all new arrivals, but he's easily persuaded to
balk his duties. I'm sure you could get him to take some of you to this well-known
bare knuckle boxing ring close by the museum. Sergeant Mallory, the docking guard
I'm sure you met on your way in, is in regular attendance there. Mallory would
normally sell me out to the Inspector, but if he finds out I've regained my wits,
he'll have to pay me back on an old favor he owes me. The brute should've returned
the favor wits or no wits. I suppose he thinks he didn't need to man up for a mad
man. Anyway, if anyone can get me out of this prison unnoticed, it's Sergeant
Mallory."

"Ya can count on me, Uncle," Mouse volunteered.

"I know I can," said Mr. Whittle, "but be careful. That area's a pretty rough side
of town."

Felix stepped forward. "Then it's settled. Meriwether will go to the ring while the
rest of us look for the notes."

Carolina breathed a very noticeable sigh of relief. She'd been standing over in a
corner so quiet, Harlow had forgotten she was there. "Good, for a second there I
thought you'd make me go to a stinky sweaty gambling den."

Mouse laughed. "No, no one can make ya do anythin' ya don't want to. It's none o'
our business and all."

Carolina scrunched her nose at his verbal stab.

"So . . . what's this map here?" asked Brier, tapping the corner of a paper
sticking out beneath the map of the city. She pulled it free, revealing a detailed
plan of a building. Red inked marks and hatches covered its surface.

"Ahh yes," said Whittle. He took the paper from Brier's grasp and began scribbling
on it. "This is the map of the arts and history building."

"What are you doing to it?" asked Carolina.

"Marking it."

"For what?"

"Booby traps," Whittle said nonchalantly. "They're laid out all over the
underground level where I hid the boxes. Most of them are marked here."

Harlow swallowed. "Most of them?"

"Well, I was afraid someone might steal this map, so I didn't want to mark them
all. Don't worry I think I can remember where the rest are."

"That's reassuring," Carolina said sarcastically. "You know, given the choice
between the two, I think I'll take the boxing ring after all. Meriwether, I'm going
with you."

"Oh, ya are, are ya?"

Carolina nodded and crossed her arms. Mouse didn't have a choice.

"Fine then, but ya best keep up. I'll na have me uncle's life in danger for a
squeamish gel."

A knock pounded at the door.

"Lovely." Mr. Whittle franticly marked up the map. "Briggsby's timing couldn't be
any worse. There, that'll have to do. Good luck children. If all goes well, I'll
see you again before the day's out."

The smallest building in the city had to be the arts and history museum. Crammed
between two colossal structures and in dire need of a bucket of paint, the city
obviously didn't put much time into the neglected hovel. Nothing indicated it even
was the arts and history building except for a barely noticeable wooden sign with
"A.H." marked in white hanging by the entrance.

Mr. Briggsby's laughable tour became less and less descriptive once inside the
museum. Without modern architectural features to drone on about, the man was at a
loss for words. He took them past a gorgeous portrait tossed haphazardly in the
corner and said, "there's a painting," and by a stack of historical documents
saying, "that's something old."

Maybe better guides were reserved for adults, not a group of spotty youths.
Whatever reason for his negligence, Harlow was grateful. Anyone keeping a close eye
on them would only bring problems. Not that she couldn't shake the feeling of
someone else watching them.

"While I'd love ta walk 'round 'n look at pictures o' people I don't know all day,
is there anythin' more interestin' ta do in this city?" Mouse asked, his arms
crossed walking beside Briggsby.

"Of course there is." Their guide stopped to scratch his auburn haired head. "Let's
see. There's a few bandstands close by. Oh! Evergreen Park would be good for
children. Plenty of things to do there. But it looks like it's about to rain."

"Tha's no' exactly what I had in mind." Mouse mumbled.

Carolina pushed past him and squeezed her arm into Briggsby's. "What my friend
means to say, Briggsby, is that even though we're young, we don't have much time
here and don't want to waste it on attractions that-let's be honest-are meant for
grade school children. Where can we find adventure, action, excitement even?"

"Excitement you say?" Briggsby's whole body perked up as he patted Carolina's hand.
"Well, my dear, I know just the place. Come along everyone, let's hurry. We might
be able to catch some great matches."

"Actually, sir," Felix spoke up, "the rest of us would prefer to stay here and wait
for your return. I don't think we could get into too much trouble in this place by
ourselves."

"Suit yourself. We should be back in a few hours or so. All right you two, let's go
have some real fun."

***

They wandered the halls for a good twenty minutes. Harlow saw the map only once
before Brier took the lead. She wished Bri would admit when she was lost. Even
though some considered her sister a prodigy Smith, Brier had all the directional
skills of a lemming.

"I think you're going the wrong way." Harlow called ahead.

"No I'm not," Brier said with her face smashed up against the paper in her hands.
"The map clearly says the entrance to the lower level is due east."

Brier continued on as the other three stopped to stare at her. When she noticed
their absence, she turned back. "What?"

"East?" Felix marched up to her and snatched the map out of her grasp. "You've been
taking us west." He traced their path with his finger then poked the paper in
emphasis. "There. That's where we made the wrong turn. Come on everyone. This way."
He took the lead, leaving Brier in an all-out pout.
The boys went on ahead as Harlow went to console her sister. "It's okay. Everybody
gets lost now and again."

Brier crossed her arms. "I look like such a fool. He must think I'm a dimwit."

"Felix doesn't think you're a dimwit. Now let's hurry before they leave us behind."

Harlow felt a twinge of guilt from the comfort she found in Brier's weaknesses. She
grew up constantly compared to her twin. It seemed like anything Brier was good at
Harlow couldn't hold a flame to. At least her sister was human.

Ahead of them, Felix and Takashi fumbled around in confusion.

"What's wrong?" Harlow asked.

Takashi moved both hands around on a wall, examining it closely. "Felix says we're
here. I don't know about you, but I don't see a door."

Felix lifted a statue on a nearby pedestal. "It could be hidden somehow. Like a
secret passage."

"Here, I'll help." Brier went to the opposite wall from Felix and looked behind a
painting.

Harlow plopped herself down on the floor. "Don't know what kind of morning
exercises you guys do, but I need a breather."

"Harlow," Brier whined. "It's no time to be laz - look at your sleeves!"

Harlow glanced down. A red glow brightened the arms of her jacket. Yanking the
material up, she exposed the marks on her skin. The color of the light made the
words look etched in blood. Her blood. She rubbed at them-as if it would do any
good.

Oh that's right, I'm stuck with this.

She lowered her arms and let out a groan. "I liked the blue better. Wasn't nearly
as creepy."

"We must be close to at least one of them," said Takashi. "Strange though. Didn't
Whittle say there were two boxes here? Shouldn't her arms be white?"

"No, this makes sense." Felix flicked the map. "See here. The entrance is closer to
one box than it is to the other."

"I want to see." Harlow got up to take a look, but doing so her arms changed back
to blue.

"Woah, Har, you see that?" exclaimed Brier.

"Yeah, how odd."

"Go sit back down."

The moment she sat, her arms switched to blood.

"Of course!" Felix cried. "We are in the right place. We're just looking for the
wrong kind of door. Harlow, move over a bit." She scooted, giving him room to
inspect the floor. "There," he said, sticking his finger into a small hole in the
wood. When he pulled, a good section of the floor came up then locked in an open
position. He was right. It was a secret passage. They circled around the entrance
and peered into a dark gloomy hole.

"Are there lights in there, or do we get to search in the dark?" asked Takashi.

Felix flipped open the map. "Um . . . yes." He stepped down a few stairs into the
darkness and ran a hand along the passage wall. "They should be right . . . here."

Click. Click. Click. Gaslights flickered on one by one, probably through the entire
lower level. With Takashi leading the way, they plunged into the depths of the
museum's underbelly. Felix tugged the floorboard door down behind him, and it
slammed shut with a loud THUD!

"Blimey!" Felix cried grabbing his chest. "It's a good thing there's not anyone
else in this building. That thing would wake the dead."

At the end of the stairwell, the gaslights had time to fully penetrate the
darkness, illuminating their surroundings. With an arched celling, the dingy brown
corridor seemed made of rotting brick and cobwebs. A heavy dose of must and
kerosene from the lights filled the air. And an inconsistent space between the
walls made traveling the never ending walkways both crammed and roomy in a matter
of feet.

"This place is lacking some serious upkeep," said Brier.

"Don't think Mr. Whittle planed on having visitors, Bri." Harlow brushed off a
spider from her shoulder.

"The map says to go straight then left at the next opening," Felix said, going on
ahead. "Stay close to me. The first red mark for a trap is coming up soon."

Takashi brushed his fingers along the wall. "Does it say what kind of trap it is?"

Felix put the map close to his face, walking without watching where he was going.
Thump. He lowered the map, and sucked in a breath. All eyes went to his foot, sunk
down on a loose brick. "No, but I have a feeling we're about to find out," he said,
horrorstruck.

Harlow's body tensed, waiting for the trap to spring. She couldn't shake the
feeling that they should run, but no one moved a muscle-petrified and still.
Gradually, the sound of a thousand tiny steam-saws buzzed around them. Dust and
chips of brick shot out from the walls, spurting up everywhere, forming coin shaped
holes and turning the walls into Swiss cheese. Harlow coughed, the dust invading
her lungs. She batted away the grey clouds and spotted flecks of gold emerge from
one of the holes. Every instinct screamed for her to bolt, but she stood there
motionless. Mesmerized, she leaned in close to the nearest hole. Tiny cylindrical
poles poked out from the circular darkness. Like arms of a crustacean, more copper
poles crawled out, bending at their lime lit up joints.

"What are those things?" she asked, edging in to a breath's distance.

Takashi grabbed her elbow. "Don't know, but let's not stick around to find out." He
yanked her back right as the round body of a mechanical creature lunged out of the
hole, its sharp metal teeth chomping the air.

The buzzing sound deafened her scream. Motorized insects swarmed out of their dens.
Some flew like wasps while others crept out on multiple legs like spiders.
Only Takashi had the sense to leave. "Move!" he yelled, waking the rest of them
from their terrified stupors. He grabbed Harlow's hand and ran down the hall, Brier
and Felix following behind. Just when it seemed like they'd outrun the bugs, A hiss
and a twang snapped by their feet. Harlow glanced down right before tripping on a
wire stretched from wall to wall. A crash and a humph sounded behind her. She
stopped at the noise.

"Felix!" shouted Brier. Her sister took off, sprinting to their fallen friend. The
wires entangled his legs, tugging him back to the mechanical insects.

"Harlow, stay here." Takashi reached into his trousers' pocket and snapped out the
metal pole she saw him use on Mortimer a week ago. He dashed forward, batting the
bugs and giving Brier space to aid Felix. His aim was spot on. Each time he hit
one, he sent the beast crashing into pieces on the floor. But some bugs got past
his defenses, crawling over Felix and biting his legs.

"Oww!" Felix hollered. "Blasted bugs!"

Brier backhanded the mechanical spiders off him. She pulled some kind of knife out
of her back pocket. "These ropes aren't made of normal fibers. They're some kind of
alloy. Here." She flipped a switch on the handle of the knife with her thumb. The
blade pulsed rapidly up and down.

"What are you doing?!" Felix shouted in terror.

"Don't worry. I'm going to cut your bindings."

"Fine, just don't cut my leg off in the process."

She sliced through the wires. Snap! Snap! Free, Felix scrambled to his feet. They
hurried toward Harlow, but the swarm behind them grew into a thick golden cloud.

"There's too many of them!" Takashi cried.

One of the flying beasts made its way to Harlow. She covered her head with her
arms, closed her eyes, and readied herself for the oncoming assault. This is going
to hurt!

Only it didn't. CLANK, Clank, clank. The metal pest fell to the floor. Its green
light flickered red then died. She looked over at the red light peeping out from
under her sleeves and made the connection. If only a small amount of red light did
that, what would both exposed arms do together? She rolled up her sleeves and
marched forward.

"Harlow," Takashi said between strikes. "Thought . . . I told you . . . to stay

put."

"You did, but I have a better idea." She threw her forearms up. The light grew
brighter and brighter until an intense red flash flooded the hall. Everyone, except
her, shut their eyes. By the time they opened them, the floor was cluttered with
piles of broken metal insects.

"I can't believe it. How'd you know to do that?" Takashi asked with his hands on
his knees, catching his breath.

"I didn't. But one of them broke when it came at me. So I figured what shut one
down would shut down all of them."

"Hunh, sounds about right," said Brier, replacing her knife. "I mean, that's how
I'd design that trap if I was half as concerned for one of these children of light
as Mr. Whittle is. Though, I wouldn't in a million years make those nasty bugs. The
man's brilliant, but really, eww."

"At least it wasn't snakes, right?" Harlow nudged, and Brier shuddered.

"Come on everyone, that mistake cost us time," Felix said, stepping over a pile of
lifeless insects. "I'll be more careful."

Brier hopped along beside him. "Let me help. I may not be the best with directions,
but I think I can figure out Smith traps."

Harlow and Takashi trailed behind, following Felix's orders ahead, when out of
nowhere a chill ran down her spine. The very air grew cold and clammy. She
shivered.

"You feel that?" Takashi asked, his hands rubbing his shoulders.

She lowered her voice. "That uneasy feeling? Yeah. What do you think it is?"

He glanced behind. "I don't know, but last time I had this sensation, we fought the
magic users by my apartment."

She didn't want to hear that. "Do you think we're being followed?"

He turned back around and moved a little faster. "I wouldn't be surprised. Someone
was spying on us last night after all."

"The map says we make a right ahead," Felix called back. "The closer of the two
boxes should be a few more turns away."

THUD!

"What was that?!" Harlow's heart leapt in her chest.

Felix's eyebrows furrowed. "Sounded like the noise the floorboard door made when I
shut it."

"Thought so," said Takashi. "Run!"

They raced down the hall. Felix and Brier disappeared at the turn with Takashi
right behind. Harlow was so close she could see the last of Takashi's sky blue
striped shirt as he vanished around the corner. She neared the corner herself when
her foot hit the edge of an uneven brick, sending her crashing onto her stomach.

"Harlow!" Takashi yelled. His hands were on her in seconds, lifting her to her
feet.

"I'm okay," she said once upright.

"Hurry Har," called Brier. "There's a trap here and I think it's a giant . . ."

CLANK!

Her sister's words were cut off by the drop of a massive metal wall, dividing their
group in half and leaving her and Takashi alone with whoever was after them hot on
their heels.
Thank you for reading! If you liked what you've read, please remember to vote. :)

Things are about to get intense! What do you think will happen on both sides of the
dropped wall?

"No, no, no!" Harlow banged her fists against the metal wall.

This can't be happening.

The image of her sister crying out to her on the other side looped in her vision.
How her caramel eyes pled with her to move faster. Brier and Felix may be safe with
Whittle's map, but on this side, she and Takashi were doomed. Traps would spring up
like weeds. She bent down and stuck her fingers tips through the small space
beneath the wall and the floor. The notes gave her strength when she needed it
before.

That's got to be how these things work. They give me power when I need it. Can't
think of a better time than right now. Come on!

She pulled so hard her muscles went taunt. It didn't budge.

"Harlow, stop. We have to go."

She ignored Takashi's command and kept tugging.

"When I said, we have to go, I meant now," he tried again.

Tears flowed from her eyes. "We can't leave them. There has to be a way to lift
this wall." She flew to her feet and patted the stone walls down, searching for
some kind of release mechanism. "Help me."

He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. "Any other time, I would, but
right now someone's chasing us. The other corridor might lead us out too. We've got
to go." Something cracked in the distance. Takashi's voice softened. "Whoever he
is, he's not very stealthy," he whispered. "I bet he's stepping on the broken bugs.
Which means he's getting closer. Quick, pull up your sleeves."

"Excuse me?"

"If we're going to run into any traps, we might need the notes to disarm them."

"Oh, right." The moment she had both sleeves up, he took hold of her hand and
sprinted down the hall.

Where in this blooming city could she have gone?

Meri trailed behind Briggsby in and out of dark alleyways for some time now. No
brawling pit, and now no Carolina. He'd focused so intently on freeing his uncle
that she had disappeared a good ten minutes ago without him noticing. Gads, it was
hard enough keeping up with the over excited bloke ahead, let alone keep track of a
bucket of trouble in a skirt.

Girls weren't worth the effort it took to keep them around. Or at least this girl
wasn't. Not only did he have to find the largest, and for that matter most
frightening, man he'd ever seen in the middle of a brawling pit, but now he had a
selfish disappearing girl on his hands. She knew time wasn't on their side, and yet
she had the gall to lollygag about, getting herself lost.

Why did he agree to bring her along? It was his stomach. Must have been. She lured
him in with her tasty truffles, begging to be his chef on his ship. If only he
hadn't spoken so loudly with Norton about their lack of a cook, she wouldn't have
overheard and probably wouldn't have known about the whole blasted trip. It didn't
matter now. She was on his watch, and he wasn't about to abandon her.

"Mr. Briggsby?" he called ahead.

The man looked over his shoulder as he waddled along. "Yes?"

"Looks like me friend went off somewhere. I know ya want ta get to tha match soon,
but I'm gonna 'ave ta go back 'n look for her."

"Nonsense boy."

"Nonsense?" Meri shook his head in disbelief. Briggsby couldn't be that obsessed
with gambling. "Sir, I really have ta look for her. I suppose ya can go on by
yerself, but I won't be able ta sleep at night knowing I left her out here alone."

Briggsby batted away Meri's words. "No, I mean it is nonsense to look for a girl
when she isn't missing."

"What?"

"Come on, boy, she's right behind you." Giving a wink, Briggsby continued down the
street.

"Miss me?" cooed a sweet female voice close to Meri's ear. He jerked away, and
there she was. Standing there with her arms behind her back, Carolina bat her dark
eyelashes up at him.

"Where in the blazes have ya been, gel?"

"I wasn't gone that long." She sidestepped him and trotted after their guide. "A
few minutes tops." She sauntered ahead, hips swaying like the sides of a ship.

The reason Meri invited her on this trip hit him full force. His stomach had
nothing to do with it. She was gorgeous. He thought so ever since she'd first
dropped by the hanger to meet with Harlow two years ago. The way her hair flew
about her face like liquid gold couldn't compare to her smile. She laughed with her
whole body, brightening the room about her. He could hardly muster up the courage
to talk to her.

As time went on, she became thinner and her hair grew paler. It was almost as if
she were a fake imitation of her former self. But when she smiled like she did now,
his bones melted. Except, why was she smiling? Lifting the bottom of her pink and
white striped dress to step over a puddle, she practically beamed at him.

"Are you coming?" she asked.

He shook himself out of the spell she cast.

"Aye, but I'd like it if ya stopped avoiding me question. Where'd ya go off to?"

"I saw someone I know who needed direction."

Meri raised a brow. "You know someone? Here? And they asked you for directions?
Thought this was yer first time in this city."

"Well we have been dragged all over the place and my memory works just fine. And he
seemed quite satisfied with my help."

Meri's fists constricted. He should've known she'd met with a bloke. A strong sense
of jealousy snapped inside him. He hoped to spend some of this trip with her apart
from her many admirers. Apparently, that wouldn't happen.

She walked beside him with a skip in her step and a silly expression on her face.
Lacing her fingers and stretching her arms in front of her, she tilted her head
towards him. "So," she said, her smile wider than before. "Did you mean what you
said back there?"

What was wrong with her? "Back where?"

"Back when you said you wouldn't be able to sleep if you thought I was in danger?"

It was as if someone punched him in the gut. "Um . . . yes."

"That's sweet." She pushed herself up on her tiptoes. Before he knew what she was
doing, the warmth of her breath touched his cheek. Tenderly yet swiftly she kissed
him.

His heart pounded. His face sizzled and burned. His feet glued to the ground-frozen
by the feel of her lips on his skin. What-what was going on?

"Hurry up, Meriwether," she said, several feet ahead. "We don't want to miss the
big fight do we?"

Brier sat with her back against the jagged wall. Felix crouched next to her, his
head down and his hands grasping thick chunks of blond hair.

"She's gone," Brier said in defeat as she stared at the bleak hall ahead. What was
the point of going on? She couldn't help her sister if Harlow wasn't there to help
anymore. "It's my fault."

Felix let go of his hair and lifted his eyes to hers. "How do you figure that?"

"I should've warned her earlier. She might have run faster had she known."

"Run faster? Are we talking about the same Harlow? We both know she runs like a
snail. A clumsy snail if there is such a thing."

"Well, then we should've gone after her like Takashi. Then she'd have the map and
be better guarded against Whittle's traps."

"And then there'd be no one on this side of the wall to get the first box. Look."
He opened the map and pointed to the right side. "Here we are, and over here is the
first box and the exit." He moved his finger to the opposite side of the map.
"Here's the second box. It's a little further away, but see, the only way to get to
it is to be on the other side of this wall where your sister and Takashi are. And
there's the second exit. Don't you see, Bri? We're still on course."

"How can you be so sure they'll even make it to the exit?"

"I can't, but you know what I do have? Hope." He stood, holding his hand down to
her. "What's done is done. Let's keep going."

Sighing, she took his hand and followed him down the corridor.

When used correctly, the map was quite helpful. She was certain they avoided a deep
pit, crushing walls, and sleeping gas. At least she wasn't useless like before.
After each trap she spotted, he smiled. She reveled in every one. And unless Mr.
Whittle forgot to mark anything, they should be approaching the box soon without
any more surprises.

"Look Bri! There it is."

At the end of the long passage, a tiny copper box sat on a rectangular stone. They
made it. Just a little further and they could go find Harlow. The moment she sighed
out in relief, some of her hair lifted off her shoulders. Air billowed through her
blouse, whipping her cotton collar against her neck.

"Is there a draft in here?" she asked, trying to tame her unruly brown locks.

Felix looked about, his own hair thrashing about. "Maybe from the exit."

Maybe, but the further they got, the windier it became. Unless there was a
hurricane outside, there had to be some other reason. Gradually, a low pitched hum
invaded the hallway. Her hair whipped every which way, smacking her constantly in
the face.

"Felix, I'm pretty sure it isn't a draft," she said, struggling to put one foot in
front of the other.

"Yeah, this isn't natural." His eyes squinted against the harsh wind. Reaching into
his back pocket, he pulled out the map and fought to unfold it as the paper
bellowed in and out. "I don't understand. There aren't any red marks here."

"Can I see?" she yelled over the deafening hum. He handed it to her, but it took
her two tries before she grasped it. Pulling it closer, she wrestled to stay
upright while looking at it. He was right-no red marks. But the white squares on
the map scattered across the hallway they were in struck her as odd. She looked
down. Sure enough, the map matched the white and red brick pattern on the floor
exactly.

"I think these bricks are important," she said, pointing at the map.

"What?" He held his hand behind his ear as if that would make it easier to hear.

She slipped a little, as the wind pushed her back a few steps. "I said," she
hollered, regaining her balance, "the bricks are important!"

"I know they're a torment. It's unreal how slick they are. Hard to get any
footing."

She closed her eyes in frustration. "No, I said IMPORTANT, not torment."

Beneath the blond hair covering his face, his expression remained confused. It was
useless telling him. She had to show him. One of the white bricks was very close to
her.

Pushing her way through the gale forced wind, she stepped on the brick with all her
might. Nothing happened. Maybe she was wrong. The gusts kicked up even more,
crashing into her legs and sending them out from under her. She landed hard, slid a
good several feet back, and slammed into a wall

"Brier!" Felix yelled, somehow holding his ground.

"I'm ok!"

"Hold on, I'm coming to get you."

Now really wasn't the time for chivalry.

"No! I need you to step on that white brick right there."

"What?"

"The brick!" she yelled, "step on the brick!"

"I am stepping on it. So are you!"

Words were a waste. She pointed to the white brick beside him. He mouthed the word
"oh" then stepped on it. As the brick sank down, so too did the others. She didn't
quite understand it, but Felix reacted immediately.

"Brilliant!" he exclaimed lying flat on his stomach. His fingers and shoes slipped
into the gaps, and he climbed forward. She quickly caught on, doing the same. Who
knew how much time they lost in the tunnel? Hopefully the others were having better
luck.

Harlow ducked around the corner behind Takashi. He flattened his body against the
wall and she followed suit. Only his chest rose up and down. The rest of him stood
as ridged as the ground beneath him. He held his hand out, signifying she remain
still-which was exactly what she wanted to do in the first place. They'd been
running for who knows how long, and she needed time to refill her depleted lungs.
It was a miracle they hadn't run into any traps yet. There was absolutely no
caution to their sprint.

Takashi turned his head from peering around the corner to face her. "I think we've
lost him for now." He had already caught his breath.

"We're just . . . that fast." She was so out of shape.

He smiled. "No, I don't think so. Haven't you noticed? The walls behind us have
been moving."

No, she hadn't noticed. How could she? He pulled her so hard all she could think of
was how she was going to live the rest of her life without legs. "Really?"

"Uh huh, but I'm not sure that's a good thing. We lost him, but we could also be
stuck in a never-ending labyrinth."

"So we're in a trap?"

"Think so."

Her shoulders slouched. "Well, that's just lovely."

"Look on the bright side. There aren't any mechanical bees."

"You're right. No bees. Only a man out to kill us in an ever changing building we
can't escape." She slid even further down on the wall. "Why can't things be easy?"

"Don't think they're always meant to."

What kind of a reassuring statement was that? "Thank you. I feel much better now."

Sizzz-CRASH!

"What was that?!" Harlow jumped to her feet.

Takashi wasn't nearly as jostled. His eyes were a bit wider, but that was all. "I
don't know. Sounded like a small explosion.

Sizzz-CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!

She grabbed onto the front of his shirt and twisted the cloth in her fists.
Whatever those sounds were, they made her heart race. If they were explosions, they
were getting closer. She shook at each one.

Takashi put his arms around her. Any other time, she'd blush with embarrassment.
But right now she was grateful. And lucky. A moment later, the covering of the
gaslight closest to them exploded. Glass flew everywhere. He pulled her closer into
him, covering her head with his body. Her fear spiked, and her heart beat sped up
double time.

Everything went pitch black.

"Harlow. You okay?" he asked seconds later.

She pulled away from him, and her arms cast a red glow, piercing the darkness.

"What happened?" she whispered, afraid to speak loudly.

"Don't know. Could be part of the trap. But I think whoever's following us is
flushing us out. We might be in more trouble than we thought. Felix said the Magics
use shadow and darkness to travel in."

Nervous sweat dripped from her forehead. "What should we do?"

Takashi stood, bringing her up with him. "You're going to have to shine. If it was
just the trap, then you can guide us out of here. If not, then at least we can
fight dark magic with light. Either way, we should get moving."

He was right. Standing still did them no good. He took her hand and they ran down
the hall. The corridor ahead veered to the left then suddenly shifted to the right.
Why didn't she notice the moving walls before?

Puffs of black smoke shot out of the darkness around them. They bolted through the
smoke, coughing with each pass. The air stank of sulfur, making her even more
uncomfortable and frightened.

"Takashi," she said, panting while still holding his hand, "Don't know if I can go
on."

"Hang in there." He tightened his grip. "And whatever you do, don't stop shining
that light."

No choice there. Covering the light with her sleeves required both hands, and right
now one was occupied.

A wall jetted out before them. They made a sharp turn. Her fingers slipped. Takashi
was gone. Without him to pull her, her momentum only carried her a few more steps
before she came to a dead halt.

"Takashi?" she said weakly.

Rustling and banging noises echoed in the distance. The red light from her arms
only allowed her to see a few feet in front of her. Scared out of her mind, the
light's radius shriveled even further.

"Takashi?" she tried again, her voice so small even she could barely hear it.

"I'm fine," his voice replied out of the darkness.

"Where are you?"

"Close by."

A loud crash of metal startled her. "What was that?"

"Nothing, it was nothing."

Why did his voice sound so strange? Have that peculiar drawl to it?

"You hurt?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine, but that light's doing a number on my eyes. Roll down your sleeves
and let's get out of here."

Now she knew something was wrong. "Didn't you tell me not to roll them down? How
will we see without light?"

"I've changed my mind. I think it's your arms that caused the gaslight casings to
burst. Cover them up or we're done for. Hurry."

She didn't know what to do. He'd been right with everything so far. People change
their mind don't they? It seemed crazy, but she pulled down her first sleeve. Half
the hall went black. Here goes. She began to pull down the second sleeve, when
something sprung out from the darkness at her ankles, sending her flat on her back.

A large bald man in a dark coat with a dragon symbol on his shoulder stood over her
with two figures next to him. One of the figures pounced on her and tugged at her
jacket until the remaining light was covered then pinched both her wrists.

Her body reacted, scrambling to her feet. Hoping she wouldn't face plant into a
wall, she took off in an all-out sprint. What should I do? What should I do?

She heard the smoke puff about her. The sulfur smell became unbearable. She did
more coughing than breathing. Something struck her on the back. Pain rang out
through her body, but she somehow kept running. Twice she tried to roll up her
sleeves, but failed both times. Whatever her attackers did to her wrists they made
the material cling to her skin.

Help! Someone please help me!

Just then, a light burst before her, making her stop. She shut her eyes from the
brightness then opened them lid by lid. Was this another magic trick? She rubbed
her eyes to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.

Standing before her were two things she definitely didn't expect. A pedestal with a
floating metal box above it, and the lamb in her dreams wounded with stripes as if
slain. Except it wasn't slain, it was quite alive and the blood stains on its body
were the source of light. Glowing blood. So bizarre.

She inched her way closer to the lamb. "Who are you?" It wasn't as if she thought
it would answer, but she couldn't help herself.

The lamb merely nodded its head towards the ground. Following its gaze, she saw a
beaten body huddled by the feet of the lamb. His black hair and sky blue shirt made
him easy to recognize.

"Takashi!" She threw herself down at him. Turning his body over, she saw what
damage the Magics had done. His face was severely battered-his clothing torn and
his blood everywhere. Panic filled her.

The light grew dim. She looked up to see the lamb walking away.

"Wait! Don't go, I need you. They'll come back in the dark. Please stay."

Ever so slowly, the lamb retuned. It bent its head down near her arms and bit her
jacket. Tugging upward, it released her arms. She stared after the strange creature
as it walked away. Shaking her head, she once again rolled up her sleeves. The
light shined even brighter than before.

She looked over at the floating box and knew what to do. Remembering how her ankle
was healed bye the light, she grabbed the box and brought it to Takashi.

Maybe he wasn't a host and she was wasting time, but something inside her told her
different. The box sat on his chest moving up and down only with the rhythm of his
breathing.

Why wasn't it working? She thought back.

Oh that's right. I had to touch it.

"Takashi, you have to touch it here." She pointed at the side where her thumb
opened her box. He moaned but didn't move.

She grabbed his hand and pushed his thumb on the white triangle. There was a sharp
click then the box flew into the air spinning with great speed. She hurried away.
The box exploded over Takashi, sending metal pieces flying every which way. The
light was so intense she couldn't make out what was happening until it condensed
itself into a direct beam on his body. His back arched up. The light rained down.

In the distance she spotted a door. Their way out. The red glow from his body faded
and she ran to him.

"Takashi!"

He moved his head to her and opened his eyes. Staring down at him, she sat in awe.
"Harlow?" he asked groggily, blinking up at her. "What is it? What happened?"

Her face must've given her away. But how could she say it? How could she tell him
the light burned away a good portion of his shirt and now engraved itself from the
lower part of his shoulder, over his chest, and all the way up the left side of his
neck to his jaw?

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please take a second to
click the star if you like what you've read.

So what do you guys think? Pretty intense? What's going to happen next? Let me know
your guesses in the comments.

The brawling pit was exactly what Meri had expected. Men his father's age crowded
around a ready-made ring hollering, laughing, and slapping each other on the back.
The stench of smoke stuffed the already humid air. Rain clouds formed thick above
them, looking as if they were created by the cigars and pipes puffed near the pit.

Though he'd never been to this particular pit, for the first time Meri felt more at
home in this back alley than he had anywhere else in the flying city. A brawling
pit was a brawling pit. Same as always. He wished he didn't know as much about them
as he did.

Back home, his old man had frequently forced him to not only attend matches, but
also take part in them. Dear Ol' Dad thought it humorous to toss his son into a
violent fight, to be bet upon by strangers. Meri had done his best to win as many
matches as possible. One wrong step and the shame of losing to another boy was the
least of his worries. No, losing a match would earn him a ticket to the beating of
his life. A beating by a much larger, stronger man in the comfort of his own home.

He shuddered at the memory when a tug at his arm brought him back to the present.
With both arms wrapped around his elbow, Carolina clung so close he was sure she'd
cut off blood supply to his hand within the hour. She had obviously never been to a
place like this. That didn't surprise him. He rarely saw women hanging around pits.
Or at least not respectable women. Part of him enjoyed her closeness--the part that
liked the affections of a pretty girl, not the part that liked having a working
arm. But the girl last night and the one who kissed him moments ago were so
completely different. He fought off his emotions and tried to focus on saving his
uncle.

Briggsby left them the instant they'd arrived. Meri watched him squeeze his pudgy
body through the crowd. He waved a fist full of money above his head as he went.
They really didn't need to bother eluding him. Just as Uncle Oliver said, Briggsby
was easily persuaded.

Now to find that Docking Guard.

He shouldn't be that hard to spot. The man was a walking behemoth. Meri scanned the
crowd. Just as he laid eyes on a giant man resembling Sergeant Mallory, some men
pushed their way to the front, nearly knocking him and Carolina to the ground. A
loud cry rose up around them. Someone must've landed a good hit.

"There!" Carolina pulled on Meri's sleeve and pointed to the Sergeant.

As they moved closer, Meri got not only a better look at the Sergeant, but also the
fight itself. With his hands crossed over his chest, Sergeant Mallory stood like a
massive stone. He stuck out his jaw and stroked his curly muttonchops with his
knuckles. Meri gathered from the man's foul expression that he favored the bloke
who just had his nose bloodied. But when that man followed with quick hook to his
opponent's face, Mallory expression remained apathetic. Who knew what side the
Guard favored? The man was a walking brick.

"What are you going to say to him?" Carolina asked-her eyes locked on the giant
man.

Meri swallowed. "Please don't kill me comes ta mind."

She smiled up at him and patted him on the back. "Better you than me."

"Thank's for yer vote o' confidence, but I'm sure he'd pulverize me just as easily
as he would any gel."

Carolina let go of his arm and nudged him on. "Well, we really haven't all day. Go
on. He might not be as bad as all that."

How caring. Kisses me one minute and tosses me to a vicious beast the next.

"I don't think so," he said, grabbing her hand. "If I'm going, you're going." She
rolled her eyes, but followed him all the same, weaving through the masses toward
the Sergeant.

They inched in closer and closer to Mallory, dodging the flailing arms of fierce
celebrations. Meri kept his eyes fixed on the man ahead. No one would deter him
from freeing his uncle.

They were within a few feet of the man when someone shoved him on the side. Off
balance, he and Carolina collided with a group of gents facing the ring. After he
pulled Carolina off them the blokes they landed on sneered at him like it was his
fault for being shoved. He tipped his flat cap to them in apology, but they
harrumphed, wrinkling their hoity noses at him in return.

"Woah there, boy. Something wrong with your eyes?" snarled the man on Meri's
opposite side, probably the one who shoved him. "Who the blazes do you think you
are?"

"Sorry, are ya spkeakin' ta me?"

The man curled his greasy mustached lip, revealing two gold front teeth. When he
moved in close to Meri's face, the reason he lost the original two became apparent.
Either he'd eaten rotten onions today or fresh ones months ago.

"I said, Who. The. Blazes. Do you. Think. You. Are?"

Oh yeah, talking like that's going to make me understand him.

"Me name's Meriwether Sutton. I'm just tryin' ta pass--"

"I don't care what your name is boy!" The man stuck his meaty thumbs through his
suspenders and clinched his fists. The blisters covering his knuckles and the blood
stains on his sleeveless white undershirt turned a profuse sense of dread in Meri's
gut. "What I'm interested in is why some thick bugger thinks it well and good to be
on this side of the match without an invitation. And worse yet, has the nerve to
walk in front of me and my mates in the process."

Oh no. Out his peripherals, Carolina looked back and forth between them in
confusion, but Meri knew exactly what he'd done, and chastised himself for not
thinking. Every side of the ring was free space where anyone could walk around as
they pleased except for the fighter side. The side they were now on.

He knew the story. The decade old fighter's strike wasn't one to be forgotten.
Because of injuries obtained from aggressive crowds, the pugilists refused to
perform unless they received a side of the ring unpolluted by unwanted guests. To
be caught on the fighter's side uninvited was not merely a faux pas, an offense
worthy of severe physical punishment.

There were two ways out of this mess. He could either offer up some kind of payment
to stay--which he had nothing to give--or he could apologize and make a speedy
departure. The latter option was the safest, but not a choice he had the freedom to
make. If they couldn't reach the Sergeant soon, they'd have to wait until all
matches were over. In a ring like this, that could mean sundown or later. By then
Harlow and everyone would have left the city, stranding Uncle Oliver.

"Apologies. I meant no disrespect," Meri attempted. "We'll leave right away, but me
friend and I have urgent business wi' someone on this side." He hoped that would
satisfy the bloke.

"Urgent business?" The man and his mates bellowed a laugh. "That's a riot! What?
Did O'Callaghan's sick granny send you to retrieve him so he can nurse her back to
health?" He stuck out his lower lip in a mock pout while the men around him laughed
louder than before.

"Look, I'm feeling generous today, so I'll let you pass, boy."

"Thank you." Meri didn't care what the reason was for his change of heart. He took
hold of Carolina and readied himself to bolt before the man had a chance to say
what he feared came next.

The man threw his arm out at Meri's chest. "Whoa, there."

Meri slammed his eyes shut. Of course it wouldn't be that easy.

"You didn't let me finish. I'm allowing you pass, but for a price. Let's see what
you've got. Don't be stingy. I'll have it all."

Meri dug through his pockets. "I'm afraid all I have is two shillings."

"That's not nearly enough." The man cracked his knuckles in intimidation.

"It's going to have to be enough." Carolina foolishly stepped between them with her
hands on her hips. "I don't know who you think you are, but we're just passing
through. We don't have to give you as much as a half-penny for it."

Why did she have to say anything? A crooked grin made its way on the man's face. It
was the kind of smile that only meant terrible things.

"Look what we have here gentlemen." He reached out and snagged Carolina around the
waist, pulling her against him. "Bit of a cheeky girl, but not bad on the eyes."
Carolina pushed on him, trying to escape. "I'll take her as payment. You're lucky
you brought her along. Now clear off."

"Let go of me, you brute!" Carolina pounded her fists on the bloke's chest but he
didn't loosen his grip. The man was a sadist. With every punch his laugh deepened
and his grip tightened.

Meri had to stop this. Pushing on the man's shoulder and pulling Carolina's arm, he
separated them but not fully. The man still had a hold of Carolina's wrist. "The
lady said ta let her go. She's no' for sale."

"No? Well, then, I suppose you'll have to come up with something else, and quick,
or I'm taking your lady friend whether you like it or not."

Carolina jerked her head to him. Do something written all over her face.

"I'll take ya in a fight." As the words escaped his mouth, he mentally kicked
himself. He couldn't take them back now. Not that he'd have any other choice if he
could.

Gold toothed man choked on his spit. "You've got to be joking. Now I really know
you've got eye problems, boy. I'd knock you out in one blow." He flexed his bulging
tattooed arms, confirming his statement.

It didn't matter. Meri had to protect Carolina. To do so, he'd have to say
something stupid. "Don't wanna fight me then, eh? Afraid I'll win?"

Gasps followed by a cry of "Oooh" in unison rose up from the other men. Egging him
on probably wasn't the best tactic, but Meri was certain the man wouldn't fight
unless provoked.

"I'm not scared of any full grown man at this ring let alone the puny likes of you,
but I'm ain't wasting my time either. When I win, what's in it for me? Besides the
joy of beating your face to a bloody pulp?"

Think, blast it! What can I possibly offer this bloke? He won't take two shillings
and Carolina is definitely out of the question.

"I'll give ya me airship."

"Come on, Brier. We're almost there!" Felix shouted back at her.

Though he could judge better from his position ahead of her, Brier felt like they'd
been climbing for hours. "You said that already! At least four times!"

"I know, but now I'm certain."

"Can you see it?"

"No, the wind keeps slamming my eyes shut when I try to look."

Normally, she didn't have this much trouble with physical activity. Smiths were
known for their strength. Thinking up inventions was only half their task. It took
strength to actually create most things, and of course once created, all things
required testing. But, pushing her body against unnaturally strong winds was an
experience she hadn't yet tested. Had she known, she would have built a machine and
practiced months ago.
"Almost there!" Felix's voice strained. "Got it!"

A second after he spoke, the winds stopped, sending their bodies forward in a quick
jolt.

"Finally." She relaxed against the cold tile floor-the tension releasing in her
muscles. "What did you get?" she asked, her cheek against the ground.

"A hold on the pedestal. It must've shut off whatever made the wind when I grabbed
on."

"That's a relief." She pushed herself off the ground and fixed her hair while on
her knees. "I don't think I could take much more of that."

Felix pulled himself up using the base of the pedestal. His eyes widened as his
hands circled the floating box. "Simply astounding. To think, The Way has been
searching for this little box for years upon years, and now here it is. Right here
before me. High time light came back into this world."

What is he going on about? Brier didn't have the strength to ask him so instead she
nodded.

"Do you have your satchel or did it blow away?" he asked with his gaze still fixed
on the box.

She pulled the bag off her shoulder. "I have it." Standing, she handed it to him.
He opened the satchel and swung it around his neck. With both hands around the box
yet not touching it, he cautiously moved in.

"I think it's okay. The map doesn't show any traps here," she said.

"It also didn't show anything about a massive wind tunnel." As he barely moved his
hands, she rolled her eyes with impatience.

Fine. I'll just go over here and wait. She walked around him to the opposite wall.
To her right was a door, presumably the exit. How lovely it'll be to walk out of
here. Come to think of it, I could use some fresh air. Who knows how long overly
cautious man will take.

She headed towards the door when she hit something hard with her foot. She tripped
forward but caught herself on the wall. "Ouch!"

"Ahh! What! Are you okay?" Felix ran towards her.

"I'm fine. Just knocked my foot against something."

Felix put his hand to his chest and breathed deeply. "You scared the daylights out
of me."

"I'm sorry. Please go back and get the box so we can get out of here."

He turned around to do just that as she bent over to see what she hit. Below her
was a long rectangular ebony box. She tried to pick it up, but then quickly
realized why it stayed in place through the blasts of wind. It was heavy-extremely
heavy and possibly a part of the floor.

Her curiosity peaked. It definitely looked like it was able to be opened, but she
couldn't figure out how. Perhaps there was a magnetic release. She searched her
pockets, but remembered she left all her magnetic tools in her satchel.
"Felix!"

"Ahh!" he jumped.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you again. Can you get me my magnetic tools? They're
in a red bag in my satchel."

He shook his head as he dug in her bag. "Here you are," he said tossing them to
her.

"Thanks." She pulled out her best magnet and tested it against the most logical
place for a release mechanism.

Click!

"Ha!" she exclaimed when the lid flipped open.

"Brier! Stop doing that. I almost had it that time."

"Sorry, won't happen again. Promise."

She peered into the box and pulled out a scrolled piece of parchment. A blood red
seal with a dragon on it held it shut. She ran her finger under it and opened the
scroll. It was a list of names. Some she knew and many she didn't. From the top, a
few of them were lined through aggressively making her think it was some kind of
hit list. Looking a little further down on the list, the blood drained from her
face.

"Okay, I've got it. Let's get out of here." Felix held his hand down at her. "Hey,
are you all right? What's that?"

"I think it's a hit list," she said absently.

"A hit list? Let me see."

She handed him the scroll and he began to read.

"Brier?"

She didn't bother to look up at him.

"Why's your father's name on here?"

Me airship!? Why did he have to go and foul things up by giving away their only
means of escape? He should've just offered the shirt off his back. Then at least
they'd have a way off this forsaken city.

Meri couldn't recall a time when he was this nervous before a fight. Not that he
lost often. When it came to bare knuckle boxing, he was king. Or at least he was
king back in his old neighborhood in the highlands. Then again, he never took on
someone this massive. Clearly, he was out of his weight class. If he were lucky,
this bloke was an unknown pugilist, just starting out. But he doubted that when he
heard the crowd cheer as he entered the ring.

The referee-a scrawny old man with a thick white mustache-pulled out a piece of
well used chalk from his trouser pocket. Bending to the ground, he drew a scratch
box in the center of the ring where they would begin each match, then stood. With a
booming voice, he introduced the fighters.

"On this corner, the challenger, weighing in at--" He leaned over to Meri. "What's
your name and how much do you weigh, boy?" he warbled in a whisper.

"Meriwether Sutton and, um, twelve stones and two pounds."

The old man blurted out a chuckle. "Really? Ha, good luck then." He turned back to
the crowd and raised his voice. "Weighing in at nearly 13 stones, Meriwether
Sutton." The crowd gave a little cheer. "There," he said back at Meri, "that sounds
slightly better."

Slightly better and completely false.

"And in this corner, weighing in at a staggering 14 stones 4 pounds, Tom Fletcher .

. ." He gave a dramatic pause. "The Butcher!"

The crowd went wild. Meri's stomach roiled. Did he just say 'the Butcher'? What
kind of a name is that?

Tom flung back his suspenders, ripped off his shirt, and flung his top hat to his
mates. He then proceeded to rouse the crowd by circling the ring.

"Meriwether!" cried Carolina from behind the ropes. "You don't have to do this.
They call him the butcher for pity sake. Come out of there and let's go."

"I can't. We won't be able ta get me uncle out wi' this bloke standin' in our way.
Besides, I can't take on the lot of 'em if he and his mates wanna have their way
wi' ya. But I might be able to take him by himself."

She crossed her arms and put a pout on her face, but he could tell she knew he was
right.

"All right gentlemen," said the referee as he brought them to scratch, "I don't
want to see any dirty fighting. We play by the rules here. If one of you goes down,
you'll have thirty seconds to bring yourself back to scratch or you've officially
lost. Now tap hands and let's get to it." They tapped their fists and the fight was
on.

On instinct, Meri moved backward, hopping back and forth on the balls of his feet.
He'd fought people larger than him before. Maybe not this large, but still. The
best way to avoid a first round knockout was to get out of the way from the start.
He really had no choice here. The Butcher was the largest opponent he ever faced.
One hit would put him out for the count in no time.

"Hope you liked breathing," Tom said with a smirk. "I can assure you, it'll be no
fun with a broken nose."

Great. The Butcher was a talker. Meri didn't enjoy fighting talkers, but he
wouldn't be fooled. They mislead people into thinking they weren't focused on the
fight. Meri knew better. Right after an insult, their opponent would busy
themselves with a retort at the exact moment they'd get smashed in the face.

Just as he predicted, the blow came. He was prepared. He slipped beside the jab,
avoiding a fist that could've landed between his eyes. Tom followed with a cross.
Meri bobbed down before he was hit in the jaw.

He knew these moves. The Butcher was gauging him. Meri doubted there was any force
behind his punches. Not that he wanted to stay close enough to find out. He circled
around into the open space of the ring as far away from the Butcher as he could
get.

"What's the matter? Can't take a punch?" Tom directed his comments more toward the
audience than him. "Come back this way and I'll teach you to be a man instead of a
scared little rabbit."

Meri doubted he could learn anything from the Butcher other than what he already
knew. A direct punch to the face hurt. If he wanted to stay conscious, he needed to
bide his time and wait for an opening.

Tom came at him this time full force. Meri broke away.

"You know, in most fights the blokes actually hit each other. How much longer are
you going to behave like a coward?"

Meri wouldn't be baited. He ignored the insult.

"Or if you'd rather," Tom said, getting dangerously close to him, "I could just
take your lady friend with me right now. Any harlot would prefer the company of me
and my mates over a weakling."

Meri lost all judgment. Call him a coward or a weakling, fine. Call Carolina a
harlot? Well that was an offense to make him loose his wits. He barreled after Tom
and struck hastily with his right. The move was instantly parried by the Butcher's
left. With an open shot, Tom hooked him.

A cheer rose up as Meri landed face first on the hard ground. He knew better. How
could he let his emotions blind him so? Luckily, he wasn't knocked out beyond
recovery. Before the referee counted to ten, he was up and back to scratch.

Tom hopped up and down on his feet. A smile widened on his face. "A bit rash there,
eh?"

Meri shook off his sudden dizziness. "It won't happen again."
"Oh no? Let's just see about that shall we?"

They tapped hands and circled each other again. Meri kept his eyes open. Blow after
blow he evaded the Butcher's fists. Then the opportunity presented itself. It was
now or never. Tom let his guard down for a split second. It was all Meri needed.
His left cross made contact with the Butcher's nose. The impact spun his opponent
backward to the ground.

The crowd gasped then cheered for Meri this time. From the look on Tom's face as he
pulled himself to his feet, that infuriated him. The man was about to fight dirty.
Meri knew it. Only, knowing someone was about to fight dirty and preparing for it
were two different things.

Once Tom was close enough, he stomped on Meri's foot. Having his foot smashed many
times in the past, Meri knew what to do. He moved his entire body out of the way of
the Butcher's upper cut while in the same motion landing his own blow to Tom's
ribs. Before he could retaliate, Meri placed the next punch on his other side. The
Butcher doubled over freeing his foot.

"You little-" Tom took only a second and then he was on him. His fists flew like a
mad man's. Some of them contacted Meri's jaw and side, but most were blocked. Meri
felt better about his chances of winning.
That was until Tom threw a hand full of dirt in his eyes.

He couldn't see a thing. When he tried to wipe the soot with his sleeve, it merely
smeared around making it worse. Water and mud filled his eyes in pain.

The Butcher was ruthless. He wasted no time pounding away. "Can't hit what you
can't see, eh, mate?"

With one last punch to his face, Meri went down.

"One!"

Blood trickled into his ears.

"Two!"

As he tried to open his eyes, the muffled sounds mimicked blurs of movement.

"Three!"

That was the ref, but what number was he on?

"Four!"

"Get up Meriwether!"

That wasn't the ref. It was Carolina.

"Five! Six!"

"Hurry, you're running out of time!"

He pushed up on his arms, but they gave out and he landed back on his face.

"Seven! Eight!"

It was now or never. He thought of his ship, his friends, and his uncle who needed
him. They all counted on him. He didn't have the luxury to give up now. He was all
in. Whatever it was inside him telling him to move on, to fight with everything he
had, propelled him to his feet and back to scratch.

His eyesight still blurred, he went to tap Tom's hands for the next round.

"Boy, my hands are over here." Tom and the crowd laughed.

"Sorry 'bout that. It'd be easier ta see wi' out dirt in me eyes."

"You accusing me of cheating?"

He wouldn't dream of doing that. Everyone around the ring must have seen the
Butcher do it, but no one would fess up if asked. Not even the so called referee.

"No, mate, just statin' a fact is all."

When they were at it again, Tom had no trouble finding and hitting Meri's face.
Meri, on the other hand, boxed at the air. If things continued on like this, he'd
lose the match for certain.

"Duck!" yelled Carolina behind him.

He didn't think. He merely reacted. A rush of wind flew past his head. He dodged a
punch. Now was the best time to counter. He blindly lifted his body into a powerful
uppercut, landing in Tom's gut. He couldn't see, but he knew where the Butcher was
now and that was enough. His movements were fast. He wasn't certain what he hit,
but the sound of crunching bone and the astounded cheer made him think he did
enough to knock the Butcher out.

The referee began his count. He took the opportunity to clean his eyes ignoring
what went on around him until the old man took hold of his wrist and threw it into
the air. He won.

Finally gaining his vision back, he saw Carolina jumping up and down. He wanted to
run to her, but men entering the ring stopped him.

"Well done lad."

"Splendid job."

They patted his back and rubbed his head. One of them in particular had his
attention. Sergeant Mallory.

"I didn't think you had it in you when we first met, Sutton," he said with a slight
grin and his arms crossed. "You've impressed me. Say, I do a little training as a
side business and if you're in town a little longer, I may be able to help you
out."

"Funny ya should say that. I just so happen ta need yer help."

"You do? How so?"

Meri scanned the crowd behind the Sergeant. "Let me just find me friend and I'll-"
His words were cut short by what he thought he saw. Squinting only confirmed his
fear. Carolina waved him goodbye as she was dragged away by a tall dark headed boy
from their school.

Thank you for reading. If you've enjoyed what you've read, please remember to vote
by clicking the star.

Oh man, you guys! I had so much fun writing Mouse in this chapter. Let me know what
you thought in the comments. I love to hear from you!

Moments earlier

Blood, violence, and the overwhelming stentch of body odor were the exact reasons
Carolina didn't want to come to this testosterone pit in the first place. The added
fear of losing their only way off this city didn't make the situation any better.
She watched on in dread as the Butcher beat Meriwether to a pulp. There had to be
something she could do.

The Butcher drew back for one last blow.

"Duck!" she yelled.

The brute missed, and Meriwether fought back with a vengeance. How he heard her
above the crowd, she didn't care. When the old man announced Meriwether as the
winner, she jumped, unable to hold in her excitement.

"They should be announcing you as the winner," said a familiar male voice behind
her. "If it weren't for you, he'd be out cold by now."

She couldn't believe her ears, but when she turned around, the gorgeous boy with
silky black hair tied back and hanging over his shoulder stood before her. Dressed
in dark dapper threads with crimson trim, he smiled at her in a way to make her
knees weak. "Morty? Is that you?"

"Certainly is dearest. Though I'm surprised to see you in a place like this," he
said, taking her hand and kissing the space of skin between her knuckles.

She shivered, pulling her hand back ablaze.

"Quite frankly, so am I. But I had to if I wanted to keep on with everyone. I

haven't learned more than what I told Mr. Jackson. He didn't tell me you were
coming, but I'm so glad to see you."

Mortimer nodded as if to say the same. "Jackson wasn't aware of my arrival. Do you
have a few minutes?"

"Of course, let me tell Meriwether." She spun around towards the ring as Morty took
hold of her arm.

"No!" he burst out the quickly regained composure. "It will only take a minute.
I'll have you back before you know it."

"Um, okay then. I'll just let him know I'm all right from here."

She caught Meriwether's eye, did her best to signal to him, and then walked with
Morty into a more secluded street.

"I won't waste your time, luv." He tossed his chest length hair behind his
shoulder, looking this way and that. "The correspondence Jackson gave you. Do you
have it?"

"I do. I was afraid one of the boys I came with might accidentally see it while we
were out so I brought it with me." She pulled out the note from her pocket in her
skirt. "Here you are."

"Wonderful." He took the letter and tucked it away in his trousers. "His message
really couldn't wait for your return. Pressure from the higher ups and all. I
really thought I might find him here, but no such luck. Much obliged for your
assistance and as promised, here is your payment."

He dropped a familiar pouch into her hands. Her heart sped at its velvet touch.

"Until we meet again," he said then turned to leave.

"Oh, Morty," she stopped him, remembering what she needed to say. "You said to
watch out for anything strange with that Takashi fellow."

"Yes?"
"I didn't know it until after I met with Jackson, but he has them all searching for
some kind of ancient artifacts that make Harlow's arms glow. Meriwether's uncle hid
them in the city. Do you think they're dangerous?"

His slate grey eyes went stone cold, and his voice sank in tone. "Did they say what
the artifacts are called or where they are?"

"Yes, something about light. They went to go pick them up at the museum. I think
they should either still be there or on their way back to the ship by now. If
you're looking for Jackson, he asked me the same questions an hour or so ago. I
wouldn't be surprised if he was there as well. Should I be worried about this?"

Mortimer placed his hands on her shoulders. "Dear Carolina, I don't think you have
anything to fear unless all three artifacts are opened together. They could get
your friends in quite a bit of trouble. We will do our best to keep that from
happening."

"I think I understand."

"Good. Now which way to the museum?"

She tilted past him and pointed down the street. "There it is. You can see it from
here." Two figures came out a side door, one she'd recognize from miles away. "Oh
look, there's Brier and my brother Felix now. They must have what they came for.
But where are Harlow and Takashi? I should go check."

He lifted his hands, blocking her. "You could, but don't you think your friend
there might get worried," he asked, nodding toward the boxing ring. "I'll go for
you and report back at your ship if I can't find them."

He was right. She couldn't possibly leave Meriwether after all he'd done for her.
"Would you? I can't thank you enough. If you need to find me, we'll be leaving on
this strange green airship docked at the main port." She picked up the hem of her
skirt and ran back to Meriwether.

The last ten minutes or so passed in a complete blur. Takashi remembered the walls
moving, the gaslights exploding, and the rancid sulfur smell. But how he got on his
back in the dark was a mystery. Harlow wasn't much help either, kneeling beside him
and stuttering on.

"Harlow. What happened?" he asked again.

"I . . . um . . . well, I had no choice and--" She smoothed down her red waves,
backing away from him. It was as though she was afraid of him for some reason.

"Calm down," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you. What's wrong?"

Instead of telling him, she pointed to the side of his neck. His eyes darted
downward and then widened at the sight. How had he not noticed before? Light burst
from the small words on his shoulder intense and red. His shaking fingers moved
over his torn shirt. With caution, he grazed the surface of his skin, surprise at
the cool touch. He was the second host. But how?

"I really am sorry," she went on. "I didn't want to use the box, but you were so
badly beaten, and the lamb stood there as if he wanted me to, and I remembered how
the first notes healed me, and-"
"Harlow." He locked gazes with her. She'd pass out if she kept on like this. "It's
all right. I'm not upset. Did you say I was beaten?"

"Yes, badly. You don't remember?"

He shut his eyes, but only remembered pulling on Harlow before everything went
dark. "I remember feeling terrible then better. Not much before that."

"Well, whoever hurt you can not only imitate your voice, but might still be here.
The lamb held them off, but he's gone now. And I think that door over there's the
only way out. I haven't seen anyone go through it."

She made his head hurt more. "Slow down, what lamb?"

"The one in my dreams. I saw it in real life. Strange, huh?" She stood and reached
down to him. "We really should get out of here."

He didn't bother asking anymore questions. Her answers just made more questions nag
his mind. And they didn't have any time to waste. "Wait, I can't go out like this.
I need something to cover my neck." They both looked about the damp empty room.

"Oh here!" she exclaimed and pulled the knot on her black waist sash. "It's just
for show anyways." Loosening it from her hips, she handed the lengthy cloth to him.

He looped the material around his neck and wrapped the remaining fabric around his
shoulder. Though the sash was practically impossible to see through, it was made of
light material, allowing him to move with ease.

"That's better," he said as he stood. But then, cold prickles rushed over his skin.
With it, the odor in the air returned foul. In the distance smoke billowed out of
the darkness. Their attackers were back.

"Hurry!" He took her hand and bolted for the exit she'd pointed out. Behind the
door, a steep staircase rose before them. He pulled her with him up the stairs. At
the top, a dim light escaped from under the door frame. He prayed it was open, but
didn't have time to check. Preparing himself for the blow, he rammed the wood with
his shoulder full force. The door swung hard, and they flew into the open air.

He regained his balance in no time and hurried to find a way to secure the door. If
someone was coming up those stairs, he needed to slow them down. Finding a wooden
bar on the frame, he flung the door shut and latched it tight. It wouldn't hold
them long. These people moved through shadows and imitated his voice. Certainly
they could break a lock.

"Woah . . . where are we?" Harlow asked, breathing hard.

Her words stopped him from running as far from the building as he could. Through
the light rain, the sight of what little was in front of him, had him suck in a
breath. Only several feet of land kept them from a sharp plunge off the city. If he
had kept running, he would've fallen to his death.

"Behind the museum," he said, after taking a second to calm his jitters.

"More like behind the city." She took a precarious step toward the edge to look
both lengths of the building. He fought a sudden urge to grab her-keep her from
moving too far forward. "Either direction we'd be walking close to the edge as far
as I can see," she continued. "Strange, the front of the museum was so small, but
the back is enormous. If it weren't so gigantic, it wouldn't matter which way we
went. But I can't see a clear way around it, so which way?"

Bang! Bang!

The door shook violently behind them. He let go of his inhibitions and grabbed her.
With his hand gripped tight around her arm, he took off to the right in full
sprint. He kept as close to the building as possible. Who knew how long that door
would last. The faster they got back to Gertrude, the better. But the rain
slickened the sidewalk, and Harlow's footing didn't seem sure. There was no way
they could go the speed he knew they should.

He felt her trip and fumble behind him. "Can we please slow down," she cried.

A pang of guilt tore through him at her cry. But he couldn't stop. "No, I'm sorry."

"But why? They're . . . all the way back there . . . behind a locked door. I
watched you latch it."

A thunderous explosion shook the ground. His body slammed against the museum wall,
taking Harlow with him. Heat rushed through the air. Glancing back, a swollen ball
of fire flared out from the door they came. Wooden shrapnel mixed with flames as
black smoke billowed upward.

"Changed my mind," she said, nearly knocking him over to run ahead. "This is a
great pace. Let's keep going."

He allowed her to move ahead. From behind, he had a better view of their pursuers
and could protect her better. The first one showed himself right away. Through the
haze of rain, the figure of a man emerged from the smoke, soon joined by his two
companions. In a matter of moments, he and Harlow were spotted.

"Harlow, we need to go faster."

"Faster. Right." She moved at a slightly quicker speed, but he knew this was her
max. Considering the hazardous conditions, he really couldn't make her do much
more. He pulled out his staff and flicked it open. If they wanted a fight, he'd
give it to them.

The man chased after them at an astounding rate. The other two figures disappeared
into the shadows. At least the one gaining on them was visible. Space between the
edge and the building shrank. The weeds that shot out of the uneven and broken
pavement made running even more difficult.

"What the?" Harlow exclaimed and came to a complete halt. Takashi crashed into her,
pushing her forward. One of the Magics who vanished through darkness in shadow
appeared before them.

"Nice to see you again, Harlow," said a female voice beneath the cloak. Removing
her hood, long black hair tumbled forth. From behind a pair of angled frames, she
glared at them wildly. Her cloak billowed in the wind, revealing a row of dagger
blades lining the hem of her ebony trousers.

Harlow leaned forward. "Josephine?"

"Oh, don't look so surprised. You have what we want now hand it over."

"I've no idea what you're going on about."

"The box you fool. We know you have it. Our trackers are going off like bloody
fireworks."

Takashi's brow tightened. No device could track the notes in that museum. Not with
all the scramblers he saw on the ceilings back there. Something wasn't adding up.
"How'd you know we'd be here?" he asked.

"I told her." A low male voice startled him from behind. Takashi turned as a man
strolled up the walkway with the big boy from the ally fight close behind. At the
sight of his bald head, a few puzzle pieces fell into place.

"Don't know if you remember me. We met in the Jade Smithy."

"Jackson." Takashi's fists clenched. So this was the Red Dragon infiltrator. The
man strutted closer with both hands behind him. The angular features on his pale
skin matched his sharpness of his movements and stare. A glow of burning cinders
traced his cog covered scarlet waistcoat, giving Takashi the impression this man
somehow caused the museum door to combust.

"Ah, you do remember. I'm touched," Jackson jeered, moving in closer. "I've been
trying to get the information out of Whittle for weeks. It would've been much
easier had that blasted inspector not drugged the wits out of him. I suppose I have
you to thank for leading me here. Now do as the lady says. Hand over the box."

Takashi didn't have anything to hand over except his neck. Which he wasn't about to
do in the slightest. But Jackson apparently didn't know that. He had to stall. Come
up with something to get more information out of the man while he still thought
they had an unopened box. "I'll do no such thing. The notes do not belong to you or
whatever corrupt organization you belong to."

Jackson laughed. "Corrupt? That's a riot coming from a foreigner who doesn't know
the first thing about us."

"I know you don't want the boxes for what they were meant for. Otherwise you'd let
us go."

"So that makes me corrupt? Because I wish to rid this world of false hope and
weakness? There's power in the shadows. Your light is useless."

"If it's as useless as you say, then why are you here?"

The man went silent.

Takashi readied himself. His next words would either be their saving grace, or
reckless enough to get them killed right there. "You know what I think? I think
you're afraid of the light. You and whoever's pulling your strings. Afraid you
might be exposed for the power hungry Magics you are. The artifact has the ability
to do just that and it terrifies you."

Jackson's face curved and twisted, anger seething through every pore. "I've heard
enough out of you." He tossed back his length of his cloak. Rain splashed off in a
dramatic spray. Both hands went for the double barreled sawed-off shotgun hanging
on his hip. Harlow gasped. Jackson yanked the weapon from its holster and aimed it
at Takashi's head. "The box. Now!"

Takashi's heart raced, but he would not back down, needing all the Magics to move a
bit closer. "Never."

"I don't think you understand," Josephine sneered, taking Harlow by the wrist and
pulling her against her chest. She flicked her wrist, and out came a knife. Harlow
screamed. Josephine touched the blade to her neck. "It's not a request."

"And I don't think you understand." The distance between him and his enemies would
have to do. Time for his ace in the hole. "We don't have it." He tugged at the sash
around his neck. Red light burst from the words engraved in his skin.

Jackson fell back as Josephine dropped her knife. All three Magics reeled in pain.

Harlow freed herself returning to his side. "What's going on? Why are they backing
away?"

Takashi struggled to stand on his own two feet. Though it didn't seem to affect
Harlow, that burst of energy had him shaken. He now knew why she went into a coma
after her first release. "Thought so. The notes of light produce some kind of
protection for the host. Especially against shadow magic." He took her hand. "Let's
go. They'll come around sooner or later and I don't want to be here when they do."
He wrapped the sash back around himself.

They ran down the ever narrowing pathway with their shoulders pressed to the wall.
The end of the museum was in sight. If they could make it around the corner,
perhaps they could shake the Magics off their tail. He hoped so. If not, they were
in much greater danger now that they were both exposed as hosts.

"Those people are insane," exclaimed Harlow, stumbling along behind him. "That man
had a gun-a gun-to your head. And Josephine is completely unstable. I really
thought she was going to slit my throat."

Takashi turned to her. "She was."

"That does nothing to set me at ease you know," She said, looking over her
shoulder. He tightened his grip. There wasn't a thing he could do to relieve her
fears-especially since he too was scared out of his mind. What could his staff do
against a shotgun?

Several shots rang in the distance. He lowered his body, covering Harlow's head in
the process. Thick chunks of stone rained down on them as bullets aimed for their
heads missed and hit the wall, dashing all hopes of reaching the corner undetected.

Quick as lightning, Josephine jumped from the shadows. She spun her leg around
knocking Harlow off her footing. Harlow desperately tried to grab hold of anything
to keep her on land. But the kick was too strong. She tumbled off the edge.

Takashi was there in an instant. He threw himself on his belly, snatching Harlow's
wrist before she was gone for good. Her body dangling off the side, he used every
ounce of strength he had to hold on.

"If we can't have the box, we can always destroy the light another way," Jackson
said as he and the other boy caught up to Josephine. "There's a third box out
there. Pretty much useless without you. We'll make sure it stays that way."

"What are we going to do with these two? Shoot them?" asked the boy.

"Why waste a bullet?"

Takashi breathed out in relief a moment too soon. Jackson's lips curled up in a
grin before he turned to leave. "Toss them over."

With those words, the boy kicked Takashi in the side, sending him and Harlow off
the edge of the flying city.
Thank you for reading! If you like what you've read, please vote by clicking the
star. :)

So many Red Dragons in this chapter, and more to come. What do you guys think of
the Magics so far? Let me know in the comments.

Harlow's body flipped and flailed, tumbling from the enormous floating rock. The
city, the sky, and the daunting earth below flew around her in a terrifying spiral.
Wind ripped at her skin and deafened her screams. The weightless feeling mixed with
the crushing pull of the ground turned her stomach. Time itself slowed. She could
make out every rock crevasse and propeller blade to grab hold of and save herself
from death. But in reality, her decent was too fast to do anything but plummet.

She wailed and wailed when something seized her side. Through her orange mess of
hair, Takashi's fear filled face came into view. The sash, still somehow tied
around his neck whipped up to the sky. Death fast approaching, he pulled her into
the fold of his arms. Her fingers latched onto him and she smashed her eyes shut.
In the deceiving comfort of his hold, a strange thought sank into her. She'd spent
her entire life trying to live up in the air only to die freefalling through it.
How fitting.

"Harlow! Look!" Takashi yelled.

She couldn't. Her lids glued shut. Pulling his torn shirt closer to her skin, she
refused to move her head from the warmth of his chest.

"Oh Lord, here it comes!" he screamed. Her whole body tightened. "Harlow, pull your
legs in!"

Maybe he knew a better way to die than she did. She obeyed seconds before hitting
the ground. Except what they hit wasn't ground at all. Her body sprung back into
the air several times before coming to a stop. The deafening sound of wind quieted,
replaced by an oscillating engine hum. On her back, her view of the leaking storm
clouds above was obstructed by the slow moving city, not nearly as far up as it
should be had she landed in Lower Portsmouth. She spread her palms out against a
slick woven fiber. Where on earth? Her bizarre surroundings, and the fact that she
wasn't dead, sent her into a tizzy of disorientation. She may have stopped moving,
but her stomach continued to roll.

"Harlow, you all right?" Takashi crawled over her and brushed her hair from her
face. His own rain soaked mane hung to his forehead and cheekbones in a way that
made him both disheveled and alluring. There's no way he could look so alive after
just falling to his death. Unless . . .

"Are we dead?" she asked.

"No. Not yet anyway." Grabbing her wrist, he helped her sit. "We've been picked up
by one of the City Guardians. Looks like Felix was right."

Below them, the woven fiber turned out to be a large blue net, cradling them in
safety. The quick movements of the City Guardian and the sway of the net made her
stomach churn more. Normally her constitution could handle the sharpest nose dives
and barrel rolls, but for some reason the free-fall had done a number on her.

"So we're not dead?"

"No."

"And we're on a giant net of a ship flying hundreds of feet in the air?"

"Yes."

"Perfect. If you'll excuse me." She crawled to the edge of the net and proceeded to
empty her stomach. Relieved, she returned to the center of the net.

"Feel better?"

"Much."

He smiled wide like he wanted to say something more, but instead turned away.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing. Just amazes me how you can fly airships and still get that sick."

Embarrassment burned her cheeks. She wished she really had hit the ground. "It
wasn't the fall. It was the near-death experience. I don't usually get motion
sickness."

She fully expected him to laugh, but instead he sighed, fixing his bootstraps.
"Sorry I got you into all this, Harlow. I knew the risks. You didn't."

She shrugged. "Well, at least we know who's trying to kill us now." She
straightened her jacket. "Do you really think we'll be safe if we find the
Inventor's heir?"

"Safe?" He asked, shaking his head. "Don't know about safe. Nothing about this
mission has gone like I thought it would. Safety is the last thing I can guarantee.
But even if we don't find the Inventor, at least the creator of the artifact is on
our side. Whatever happens."

She stared at him, confusion mudding her thoughts. The boy really did speak in
riddles. "I thought the Inventor created these things hundreds of years ago," she
said pointing at her arms. "Isn't he dead? Why would we care if he was on our
side?"

He stopped tying his shoes and looked at her. "The Creator isn't the Inventor. And
he created the artifact way more than hundreds of years ago. The Inventor just made
the notes of light to help us find the artifact. They're more than a map, true, but
that doesn't mean they're not a map. And the Creator, well, he's not dead."

She tilted her head and scrunched her eyebrows. Okay, now this whole thing had to
stop. Glowing arms? Evil Magics? Lambs popping in and out of dreams, and now a man
living for longer than humanly possible? She opened her mouth to ask about it all
when a man appeared on the side of the net ascending a rope ladder.

"How fare ye young unfortunate travelers?" he asked, his voice gruff and booming.
"That was quite a fall you had. Come with me. It's much safer below on deck than on
the net." His long forest green coat flapped in the wind as he descended the
ladder. They crawled over to him and followed him down. The rope shook with each
breeze, and Harlow held on tightly until her feet touched the wooden deck.

"My name's Captain Tawny of the City Guardian's Western Patrol," he said when they
were all safely on the ship. "You were very fortunate-falling when you did. This is
the least populated sector of the city. As such, it's hardly ever patrolled. Had a
weird feeling we needed to come out this way, so I told my crew to turn about not
even ten minutes before we spotted you. What are your names?" Captain Tawny removed
and wiped the rain from his captain's cap, revealing his balding head.

"I'm Harlow and this is my friend Takashi," Harlow answered.

He returned his hat and tipped it at them. "It's a pleasure to meet you both."

One of the crewmen approached the captain and whispered something in his ear. When
he left, Tawny returned his attention to Harlow and Takashi. "It appears we have
some more unexpected visitors ready to board the vessel. I'm sorry to leave you so
quickly, but I need to greet them. We should be making port in fifteen minutes or
so. Feel free to wander about below deck until we do."

"Thank you," Takashi said and bowed his head.

Once below deck, the welcome dry air warmed Harlow's soaked skin. They walked
through a large corridor with cherry red wooden walls and a white marble floor,
amazed at the ship's intricate interior.

"And here I thought Gertrude was the most beautiful ship I'd ever seen," said
Takashi, soaking in his surroundings.

He was right. The City Guardian was gorgeous. Gears moved visibly around them
through thick glass panes, showing off the Guardian's inner workings. At first
glance, the hall closer resembled a museum than a functional airship. But by the
sheer speed they traveled, she knew everything had purpose.

"I bet Mr. Whittle designed it." She ran her fingers along a beautiful carving in
the wooden wall of a shield with a swordfish in its center.

"Think so?"

"Brier may be able to distinguish architecture and booby traps, but I know
airships. Gertrude looks just as artistic, and they both came from a city designed
by the man. Yep, I'd say he had his hands in this."

Takashi nodded then froze, staring down the hall petrified.

"What? What is it?" she asked, watching his paling face.

When he didn't reply, she turned to follow his gaze.

"Oh no." Her muscles locked up. Unable to move on her own, Takashi tugged her into
a narrow space between the walls before they were seen. They squeezed far back into
the nook until they came to a dead end and flattened their backs against each side
of the wooden walls.

"I assure you, Miss, the City Guardians are top rate ships," said an all too
familiar male voice from the hall. "With Whittle back in town, there should be no
problem creating many more catamarans just like it."

"That had best be the case, Inspector," a female voice replied, her tone cool,
collected, and dripping with superiority.

Of all the places the group of five decided to stop on their trip down the hull's
corridor, they paused right in front where she and Takashi hid. Thankfully most
backs were to them, and their nook shrouded them in darkness. But Harlow now had a
clear view of the chief inspector. His dusty blond hair was a bit more ragged than
when they met yesterday though, as if he'd been tugging on the mop in worry.
Standing next to him were three large men dressed in ruby red military uniforms and
the most elegant woman Harlow had ever seen.

Below the woman's tightly laced corset, her long black dress exploded into what
looked like diamond shards and raven feathers. Though her shoulders and arms were
exposed, a large black onyx necklace covered her from collar bone to chin. Her pale
blonde hair was pulled severely back into a huge knot at the nape of her neck as
she glared at the inspector with cold and calculating sapphire eyes.

"The city will be overwhelmed with more little ships to save them from their
clumsiness, I'm sure, but you know very well that is not the kind of ship I'm
interested in." If possible, the slight lift of her chin brought out her arrogance
even more. "Your Smith may be able to crank out provisionary airships, but can he
do what we've asked?"

The inspector loosened his collar. "Miss Sasha, I wouldn't have taken up such an
enormous undertaking had I thought Whittle incapable of completing the task. He's
been working on quite a few of your warships, and the similarities to the City
Guardians are worth noting. As none of them are flight ready yet, this is the best
demonstration I can give."

"Do not take me for a fool, Inspector Hobbs." She tightened her mouth and curled
her boney fingers around her hips. "The only reason you took on this project is
because you know what the Red Dragons are capable of. My sources tell me you've
been drugging Whittle to force him into submission. Is this true?"

"M-my lady," he fumbled, "we had to. He refused to work for us on multiple
occasions."

The woman closed the gap between him and her in a fury. "Then you should have used
alternate methods! Had you any eyes, you'd know we were attempting to get
information out of the man. No wonder everything he gave us was a dead end."

"If I may, what could you possibly want out of Whittle? He cares for nothing but
work."

She jabbed her index finger with its two inch black nail so close to his eye, he
had to step back. "That is only because you drugged him. You know nothing. Whittle
has set out to end to us. If he and his zealots are allowed to continue, it will
give way to an uprising contrary to our own. Make certain he does not leave this
city until I get what I require, Inspector." She backed up and turned to leave.
"Everything I require. The information and my warships." The woman gathered her
skirt in her fists and stormed down the corridor, her henchmen trailing behind.

Inspector Hobbs doubled over at their absence, hands on his knees like he'd been
socked in the gut. He stood there for what felt like an eternity, breathing heavy
and wiping his brow. When he straightened, Harlow swore she saw him take a step
away. She relaxed a moment too soon, and her fingers slid against the smooth wood,
making a quick squeak.

The inspector turned. She tensed, her breath caught in her throat. His eyes
narrowed. He closed in on the nook and touched the wall at the edge of the shadow.
They were done for. Crikey, they were done for.

"Inspector," a male voice called, pulling the inspector's attention away.

Lifting his hand from the wall, he took one last glimpse into the dark then stepped
back into the hall. "On my way," he called back and took off.

Harlow and Takashi remained in the protection of the nook for several more minutes,
listening to every creek of the ship until certain they were alone. Takashi took
the first step out and peered around the corner. Waving his hand, he signaled
Harlow to join him. Her shoulders slacked as she moved into the empty corridor.

"Can you believe that?" Harlow uttered, still somewhat in shock.

Takashi nodded. "We knew the Inspector was crooked. It's not surprising he's
dealing with the Red Dragons." He took the lead down the hall the opposite way the
inspector took, constantly looking over his shoulder. "At least Meriwether is
getting Whittle out of the city. I don't know what they plans on doing with those
warships, but I doubt it's for good."

"No," she agreed, "especially not with that woman in charge of the Red Dragons."

"What do you mean?'

They turned the corner into a hallway filled with crewmen, and Harlow lowered her
voice. "That was Sasha Belkova. Chief Diplomat of the Smokestack Territory and the
Magnitude's second in command."

That girl was a complete nuisance. Didn't she understand they were in a hurry? The
first time Carolina ran off, Meri couldn't help but feel responsible. This time, he
clenched his jaw in anger. As a smoky mist of rain fell around him, he vowed right
then to be done with her the moment they left Upper Portsmouth.

"Have you found your friend yet lad?"

He shook his head, turning to face Sergeant Mallory. "No, sir, but I don't have
time ta waste. I need ta talk to ya 'bout me uncle. Do ya have a minute?" he
hollered over the roaring commotion coming from the blokes crowding the ring.

The sergeant put his hand to his ear and bent down. "I can hardly hear you over
this ruckus. Over there. It's better." Mallory took off, and Meri had to jog to
keep up. The giant stopped next to a building that provided some shelter from the
sudden rain. Standing like an immovable boulder, he barely lowered is head as he
addressed Meri. "Now what is it you want to know about your uncle? I warn you, I
don't have much to say. I know the inspector wanted you to see him, but that's
all."

Meri crossed his arms. So the man wanted to play dumb. Great. "That's not what he
said. In fact, Uncle Oliver said you'd be willin' ta help us. Owin' him a favor and
all."

Mallory dropped his fierce stance. His face whitened. "He told you that?"

"Don't know how else I'd find out. Helped that he wasn't drugged when he told me."

The sergeant wrung his hands. "What kind of favor does Whittle want?"
"He needs to escape tha city."

Panicked, the sergeant backed away. "The Inspector is a hard man to cross, boy. I
would've repaid my debt earlier had Hobbs not been involved. You ask too much. If
it were anything else, maybe, but not this." The big burly coward turned to leave
but was stopped by Carolina.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked. With her hands on her hips, she
blocked his retreat.

"Welcome back," Meri said sarcastically. "Hope we haven't torn ya away from your
important meetin'."

Carolina dismissed him with a wave of her hand then went back to scolding the
sergeant. "What did Mr. Whittle do for you anyway that you refuse to repay him?
Lend you a cup of milk?"

"Who's this?" asked Mallory with a sneer.

"That's me friend."

The man wrinkled his nose in irritation. "Some friend."

Carolina ignored him and continued. "Must've been a small favor. Something so
trivial that it's no skin off your back if an innocent old man rots away as a
slave. So tell us, what was it?"

Giving in, Mallory mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that?" Meri asked, leaning in. "I dinna hear you."
"I said he made my paralyzed daughter walk." The sergeant's body shook in anger,
but his eyes filled with shame. "There. Are you satisfied?" Hands on the back of
his neck, he paced the small shelter.

All Meri and Carolina could do was stand there, staring at the world's most
ungrateful man. "How'd he do that?" asked Meri. While Uncle Oliver was brilliant,
he never knew the man could make someone walk.

"I've no bloomin' idea how it works, but whatever mechanics Whittle implanted in
her legs gets her from point A to point B very well."

Mechanical legs. Of course. It was just the kind thing his uncle would come up
with.

"I truly am sorry." Mallory backed further away. "I just can't because-"

"If you are sorry, then prove it." Meri was done with his excuses. This gent looked
big and burly, but he didn't act incredibly manly. "Doesn't yer daughter mean
anythin' to ya? Isn't she worth riskin' yer life ta save the man who made it so she
can enjoy her's? I know me uncle is worth that ta me. If I were you, I'd risk me
life ta do what's right."

The sergeant hung his head at Meri's words. Looking out into the rain, he sighed.
"You make an awfully convincing argument, lad." Mallory shook his head and inhaled.
"Okay, I'll help you. But. If you get caught afterwards, you will not mention my
name. If you do, I will deny it. Understand?"

"Perfectly." Meri conceded. Apparently this was the best they'd get out of the man.
"Do you have a plan then?" questioned Carolina.

Mallory dipped his brows at her in a cross look. "Of course I have a plan. But,"
his expression turned eerily cheerful. "You're not going to like it. It involves a
bag of furs I purchased this morning and the man whom I bought them from."

Meri didn't want to ask, but did anyways. "Who's tha?"

A smile stretched on Mallory's face. "The Butcher."

If he was anything, Sergeant Mallory was prompt. He had told them he'd be back from
his apartment in five minutes, and according to Meri's pocket watch, it took him
exactly that to return with furs and clothing in one arm and a cardboard box in the
other. Unfortunately, also with him came a plan Meri wished neither to hear nor
carry out.

"Here, put these on," said the Sergeant as he tossed the clothes at them. "Those
are my son's. He's bigger than the both of you, but if you look like yourselves,
you'll draw too much attention."

Carolina wrinkled her nose at the crumpled white shirt and coffee colored trousers
in her hands. "You want me to dress like a boy?"

"Absolutely. I don't know about you, but I've never seen a fur dealer wearing a
pink skirt. If you're going to pass as friends of Tom, you'll have to dress the
part. There's a dress shop over there you can change in."

"Fine," she surrendered, "but I'm keeping my corset on." She snatched a bowler hat
that landed on the ground by her feet and stormed off.

Meri didn't trust the sergeant to wait if he dressed somewhere else, so he put the
oversized clothing on top of his own clothes right there outside. "So, why do we
need the Butcher?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but Tom's quite the celebrity around here. And
it's not just for how brutal he is in the ring. True, he gets his name from
butchering and selling meats, but his status comes from fur trading and selling us
what he hunts down below. Upper Portsmouth hunters are treated like royalty--seeing
how it's the only way we get meat without paying steep taxes to the lower city. The
inspector has Whittle making a specialized gun for Tom as we speak. He'll be our
way in."

Meri doubted the Butcher would help him across the street let alone into the Jade
Smithy. "And how are we gonna get him ta go along wi' it?"

"It won't be a problem," Mallory reassured him.

Opening his mouth to question further, Meri's words caught in his throat at the
sight of Carolina in boy's clothing, looking as un-boyish as possible. Like she
said she would, she still wore her pale pink corset, but over the bloke's shirt,
accentuating her small waist. Even the dingy bowler's hat on her head did nothing
to hide her long bright hair.

"There. Good?" she asked stuffing her folded up skirt into her satchel.

Mallory shook his head. "You hardly look any different." He threw some fur at her.
"Put this around your' neck." He tilted his head to the side as she complied.
"Close enough. Come on let's go get Tom."

The next fight was well along when they found him. Yelling at the man attending his
injuries, Tom sat a ways off from the pit. Mallory approached first. "Tom? Tom can
you hear me?"

"Yes, I bloody well can, Mallory." Tom waved off the man cleaning his facial
wounds. "That little bugger made it so I can't see, not hear."

Ah, so that's why it wouldn't be a problem. The bone crunching sound Meri heard at
the end of the fight must've been Tom's nose cracking. He had to have landed some
good hits to his eyes as well. They were black and purple and swollen shut.

"I'd recognize your voice from miles away," The Butcher continued. "What do you
want?"

"I thought we'd go by the Jade Smithy. See how your commission is coming along.
Heard Whittle's done with it."

"Ha! I don't think I'll be seeing anything right now. But, since the only thing
this guy is doing is making things worse, yeah, I'll come with you." Tom jeered at
the bloke who tried to help him, ungrateful. "Who are they?" he asked, pointing to
Meri and Carolina.

"Those two? Oh, they've got some business with the Smith as well. I'll be bringing
them along."

Tom stood and moved past the sergeant. Meri held his breath hoping the Butcher's
eyesight didn't improve upon closer inspection. While the minx fur covered half his
face and the top hat and glasses disguised the rest, who knew how well he could be
recognized at this distance.

Shrugging, the Butcher spun back to face Mallory. "Do whatever you have to, but
let's be on with it. My head's killing me."

The disguises had worked better than Meri imagined. They were stopped only twice to
be questioned on the Butcher's welfare. Even then, Tom was nothing but dismissive,
making their arrival to Uncle Oliver's room all the more speedy.

"Good afternoon, Whittle," Mallory said as they walked in the door.

Uncle Oliver raised his head from his work. His gaze went from Mallory to the rest
of them and then back to his desk. "Good afternoon, Sergeant. I'd say the same to
you, Mr. Fletcher, but it doesn't look like the day's treated you well, has it?
Have you come to pick up your rifle?"

"Today's been terrible, and yes, I want my gun," Tom huffed. "Where is it?"

"Over by the window. It's complete, so you're welcome to it."

Hands out to guide him, Tom inched to the window, bumping into desks, chairs, and
whatever else he happened upon along the way.

Mallory followed. "Here let me help you," he offered, reaching out his hand to
assist.

Tom smacked it away. "I'm a fully grown man, Mallory. I'll find it myself."
Rolling his eyes, Mallory returned to Uncle Oliver. "He's all yours," he said in a
lowered voice so Tom couldn't hear. "And so are they, though I wouldn't let
Fletcher know who your nephew is. They're not on the best terms."

Meri lowered his minx and Carolina pulled at her fox fur. But when his uncle
gestured for them to cover up again, pointing back at Tom, Meri knew he'd
recognized them from their first appearance.

"And so is this." Mallory set the box he'd been carrying on Whittle's desk and made
for the door. "As I'm concerned, my debt has been paid. Good day sir." With that he
left the room.

"He can't just do that," blurted Carolina. "I thought he was going to help us
escape."

"Oh, he has," said Uncle Oliver, opening the box. "This is exactly what I hoped
he'd do." He reached inside and pulled out a strange contraption resembling a
camera box with an accordion-like side stretching out to a lens.

"Ouch!" exclaimed Tom, as he continued for the window.

Uncle Oliver rubbed his chin and glanced over at the Butcher. "How long do you
think Mr. Fletcher will take before he reaches that gun?"

Meri turned to watch Tom collide with a desk edge. It had been several minutes and
the man hadn't made it nearly half way. "I'd say a quarter of an hour."

"That should be enough time." He moved over to the man, put the camera in his face,
and took a photograph.

"Ouch!" Tom yelled again. "Is there anything in this room not trying to maim or
blind me?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Fletcher," said Uncle Oliver, returning to his desk. "Such is
the workroom of a Smith. Do be careful."

Uncle Oliver certainly was the strangest chap. Why would he think it a good time to
take photographs?

"What is that?" Meri whispered.

His uncle opened the top of the camera box, reached in, and pulled out what looked
like a mask. "This, Meri my boy, is how we're going to escape."

Bending over, he stuffed it over his head. As he straightened, he adjusted the mask
at the edges and over his chin. Meri and Carolina's jaws dropped simultaneously.
With the exception of his voice, there before them was an exact replica of Tom
Fletcher. The beat up Butcher had a twin. A twin who was about to escape for his
life.

Thank you for reading! Please remember to vote if you liked what you've read. Each
vote means so much. :)

Also, I'd love to hear what you think in he comments. What do you think will happen
next?
The sooner they reached port, the better. Fidgeting with the base of her
fingernails, Harlow grew more anxious by the second. Minutes dragged on like hours.
Any moment she and Takashi could be caught by the inspector, or worse, Sasha
Belkova. That midnight garbed pincushion could give a bat nightmares. And
apparently make Takashi pace the small unlocked cargo room they found to bunk in
until they made port, at least twenty times.

An all too welcome ring chimed through the hull and she waved to get his attention.
"Hey, that's the docking bell. Might be a good time to stop circling the room, you
think?" She could see why Takashi had so much endurance. He built up stamina by
pacing. She, on the other hand, sat with legs crossed on the floor, getting dizzy
watching him walk the perimeter.

"Sorry." Abandoning his last lap, Takashi made his way beside her and sat. His dark
eyes stared ahead, filled with worry. "I think we're getting into something deeper
than we thought." He pulled her sash wrapping his neck closer to his chin.

"Because of the Belkova woman?"

"That, and the drugging, the warships, the attempted murder. Ugh," He tossed his
head back, hitting the wall with a thud before staring at the ceiling. "I thought
this place might be different than Japan, but it's just the same."

Harlow's brow scrunched. "People drug each other, make warships, and attempt murder
in Japan?"

"Okay, so it's not exactly the same," he admitted, his hands flopped up. "I meant
England is full of drama like Japan. I don't know anyone getting drugged or making
plans for mass warship production, but murder, yeah, it's more than just attempted
where I come from."

That shot her for a loop. "What? Blimey, Takashi, are you saying you knew someone
who's been murdered?'

Expecting him to say no, she could scarcely believe her eyes when he sucked in a
deep breath and nodded instead. "My parents. When I was nine."

Her jaw dropped. No way was she prepared for that revelation. The space between
them swelled with thick discomfort.

"Takashi . . . that's terrible . . . I . . ." She looked to the laces on her boots,
not knowing what to else to say. He was an orphan. It all made sense now. No wonder
he started to get along with Mouse when he revealed his abandonment issues. How
could she relate to that? She'd never felt abandoned.

Except . . . except she had.

"I know it's not the same, but I don't have both my parents either. Mum abandoned
us right after she had Brier and me. I always thought life would be easier if she
were around. You know, someone who understood what it was like to be me and all.
But she wasn't. Had better things to do than be my mum. So, I guess what I'm saying
is I know how hard it is to grow up without a mother." She turned her head,
shutting her eyes tightly. What a ridiculous thing to say. How could a deadbeat mum
compare to murdered parents?

"I'm so sorry," he said after a few moments. His words sounded sincere. He must
miss his parent's terribly.

She opened her eyes to him, and a strange expression flashed across his face. Was
that guilt? Surely not. The ship came to a halt, and he stood before she could
tell. He held his hand down to her.

"That's our stop. Come on, let's get off this ship before we're spotted."

The rain had lulled before the City Guardian made port. Sasha and the inspector
were first to disembark, making it easier to leave unnoticed. Harlow hoped Mouse
had gotten Mr. Whittle out in time. She saw how quickly Sasha moved in the
direction of the Jade Smithy. It would be much worse for Mouse if he were caught
freeing the city and the Red Dragon's prisoner.

"This is the dock for the City Guardians," said Captain Tawny, approaching Harlow
and Takashi by the ship's railing, "If you make a left once you're off the ship,
you should see the general port. Good luck, and try not to fall off the city this
time."

"We'll do our best, captain," Takashi thanked him with a bow. "Thank you again."

"Glad to be of assistance, young man," said Tawny with a tip of his hat. "Where was
it you said you're from again?"

"Japan, sir."

"You don't say. Then I'm mighty impressed. That's some fine English you have there.
You barely have an accent."

Takashi replied with only a smile as the captain led them to the gang plank.

"Best of luck to you both," he said when they stepped off his ship.

Following Tawny's instructions, it wasn't difficult to find the general port.

Gertrude's green sails stood out among the ships, even at a distance. Harlow and
Takashi moved along in silence for the majority of the walk to the airship,
allowing Harlow time to contemplate Captain Tawny's last words that echoed in her
mind. She recalled how curious she'd been at Takashi's speech on their first
meeting. But so much had happened since then that she never had the time to talk to
him about it.

When her curiosity overwhelmed her, she blurted, "so, how did you learn to speak
English so well?"

Oddly, he stumbled at the question. "I . . . I'm sorry?"

Did I ask a personal question?

"Your English. It's pretty good. Miss Himura has a thick accent. Kind of what I'd
expect. Actually, I wouldn't think you could speak English at all because of the
isolation. But you can. And really well. I barely notice your accent."

He avoided her gaze and breathed out through a tight jaw. "I had a tutor."
His fidgeting with the scarf and shifting eyes told her he didn't want to talk
about it, but interest got the best of her. "It was a very good tutor. Are many
people in Japan as fluent in English as you and your mates?" she probed.

"No, not many."

"Then how'd this tutor know so much? Was English passed down through generations?
Or did they get their hands on a Toolsberry Translator? I can't think of any other
way for you to speak like-"

"My tutor was from England," he snapped, frustration filling his voice.

"From England?" She knew she should've stopped with all the questions, but they
just poured from her mouth. "But how can that be? Only traders were allowed in
Japan. Even they were restricted to the ports. Did you live by the sea?"

"No I lived a little more inland."

"Then how could you possibly have had a tutor from England?"

He stopped walking and slammed his eyes shut, his hands out in the air and fingers
wide. "Trust me, my tutor was from England." Eyes opened again, he walked past her,
leaving her in his exasperated wake. "They may not have put it in your history
books, but the Japanese borders weren't as closed off from the Great War as you
think. Some of my people were let out, and some of your countrymen were forced in.
I would rather we leave it at that."

"Forced in? But--"

"Harlow! Please stop."

She definitely touched on a personal subject. Though she had no idea why discussing
his language tutor would be off limits. Before she had the chance to apologize,
they reached Gertrude.

Felix stood on deck waving down to them. "Harlow! Takashi! You're all right!
Splendid. Hurry, come aboard. We have something to show you."

She was going to have to drop the language discussion. Brier ran up to her within
seconds of her feet touching the deck, wrapping her arms around her and squeezing
tight.

"Har! I'm so glad to see you. You can't imagine how dreadfully worried I was. When
that metal wall fell, I was afraid I'd lost you for good. Did you ever find out who
was chasing you? How did you escape? We had to go through a wind tunnel. It wasn't
on the map, or at first we thought it wasn't. But then, bam! There it was. Oh, and
there's this scroll I found in the museum with father's name on it. I'll have to
show it to you."

Harlow understood absolutely none of her sister's ramblings, but managed to get out
few words from her squished lungs. "I missed you too."

"Oh, sorry." Brier loosened her grip, letting her go and allowing the air to return
to her body.

"Are Meriwether and Carolina back yet?" asked Takashi.

Felix shook his head. "We arrived shortly before you did. I haven't had the chance
to search the entire ship, but no, I don't think they're here."
"And Norton?"

"He's down below making preparations for departure. Here I was thinking we were
excited to leave. Poor chap's got cabin fever."

Harlow stepped back from her sister. "So, what did you want to show us?"

"Oh right!" Brier dug around in her satchel and pulled out what Harlow hoped she
might. "Like I said, there was a wind tunnel keeping us from it. I'm still unsure
how Mr. Whittle made such a structure."

Harlow held out her hand. "Can I see it?"

"Certianly." Brier placed the small metal box in the palm of Harlow's hand. It was
an exact replica of the box she opened in her bedroom with the one exception. The
circular marks were white on this one.

Brier looked at her with failing hope in her eyes. "Um, did you have any luck? In
the maze, that is?"

Takashi smiled. He slid a finger under the sash around his neck and tugged enough
for white light burst through. The gloomy skies above allowed the entire deck to
flood with Takashi's light until he quickly covered himself. Brier gasped. Felix
slapped his thigh.

"Well done mate! That's it then? We've done everything we set out for." Felix
cheered.

"Not everything." Brier elbowed him in the side. "Mr. Whittle. We still don't know
if Mouse and Carolina have him or where they are."

"I'd say they're right behind ya," a familiar voice interrupted.

"Mouse!" Harlow and Brier cried when he and Carolina came aboard.

Felix patted their friend's back in welcome. "What happened, Mouse? You're looking
a little worse for wear. But gads! Not nearly as much as the bloke behind you." He
extended his hand to the strange man following them up the gangplank. "The name's
Felix Goodwin, mate. Are you a friend of Meri's?"

The man, who looked like he shouldn't be standing let alone shaking anyone's hand,
took Felix's hand and shook with confidence. "Sure am, lad. One could even call us
family."

Harlow knew that voice. Its somewhat older sounding tone didn't match the young
beat up man before her. Squinting, she noticed strange imperfections in the man's
face and a lock of curly white hair escaping from under his grey hat.

"Mr. Whittle?"

He winked. "Hush lass, not until we're safely out of city limits. Though I have to
say, your eyesight is astounding to notice any variation."

She and Brier looked at each other and smiled.

"Tell me you have the notes," he continued.

"We do, sir." Takashi said as he approached. "Harlow and I are hosts, and the third
box is on the ship."

Mr. Whittle clapped his hands once. "Smashing." He and Mouse moved past them to
board Gertrude with Carolina close behind.

"Not going to say hello to me?" Carolina asked, hitting Felix on the back of the
head.

"Oww, I was getting to it. How are you, sis?"

"I'm well, thank you for asking." Now dressed in oversized trousers, she removed a
worn out bowler's hat and sat on a nearby bench. "I'll assume everyone's accounted
for so we can head off. Inland's all right, but this dock gives me the willies. No
one should ever live this high off the ground. Oh, and I'm keeping this fox fur,"
she said pulling the amber fur over her shoulders closer to her face. "That brute
didn't want anything more to do with us, so he shouldn't mind."

She and soon the entire crew turned to Harlow for direction. "Yes, well, um, I
agree," she coughed. "That is . . . about the leaving part. Let's fill up the sails
and get out of here."

Everyone worked hard to get the ship ready except Carolina who sat on the bench
filing her nails and supervising. Filled again with lifting gas, Gertrude pulled up
against the dock, ready to take flight. Only the gangplank and ropes tying her to
the dock remained.

"Har," Carolina whined, standing by Mr. Whittle across deck. "How much longer?"

"Felix? How long will it take to get going?" Harlow cried.

Felix wound some rope over his shoulder and surveyed the riggings. "Twenty minutes
max."

"Not too long," Harlow smiled. "Twenty minutes will go by in a jiffy. We'll be home
before you know it."

Mr. Whittle smiled back at her from tying a knot at his position by the railing,
when suddenly his deformed face went still, sagging a bit more. "We dont have
twenty minutes," he muttered, drawing back.

"Why?" Harlow spun around to face the city. Doing so, her anxiety rose and her
pulse raced. They didn't have twenty seconds.

Mortimer, followed by Jackson, Josephine, and Otto, charged down the dock towards
them. Mr. Whittle must've known they were in danger when he spotted Jackson, the
man who was close to him while he was drugged.

"Cor blimey, what are we going to do?" Harlow exclaimed.

"There's only one thing we can do, lass." Mr. Whittle left his position and made
for the center of the deck. "Come here quickly! All of you."

Every person on deck dropped what they were doing and circled around Whittle.

"Who has the third box?" he asked.

"I do, sir," Brier answered, pulling the metal object from her satchel.
"May I?" Whittle asked, his hand out to her.

"Of course." She handed him the box and he glanced it over.

"We have to open the map."

"What? Now?" asked Takashi in surprise.

Whittle nodded. "Aye, now. The Dragons are too powerful. If we don't put on some
armor, make the darkness meet the light, we're done for," he said, shaking the box
for emphasis.

"Armor?" Panic rose in Harlow's gut. "I thought that thing was a map."

"Aye, it is, lass. And much more."

A very vague explanation, but given their dire situation, Harlow decided to just go
with it. "Then how do we open it?" she asked.

"We have to attach the third set of notes to a host." Whittle turned to Brier. "I
am not one, and from the way you, young lady, were holding it a second ago, you're
not one either. Who else handled this box?"

"I have," Felix admitted, looking rather disappointed.

Whittle shook his head. "And the list gets longer. Who hasn't touched it?" Norton,
Mouse, and eventually Carolina raised their hands. "Alight, then, no time like the
present. Let's hope for the best." He tossed the box to Norton.

Catching it, a blank expression came across the thin boy's face while he mulled it
over in his hands. "What is this thing?" he squeaked. "Honestly, I don't know
what's going on in general."

"Nope, it's not you," Whittle hastened. "Move it along to Meri, lad."

Norton obeyed, and Meri took the box between his fingers. "I'm wi' Norton, Uncle.
Is this tha' note box ya were goin' on about? Why's it so special again?"

"You have to touch the triangle on the top," Harlow rushed, trying to move him
along.

"Okay, but I still don't understand." He ran his finger over the triangle and
nothing happened.

Whittle nodded to Carolina. "Only one person left. Lass, if you would."

Carolina put her hands on her hips and stepped back. "I don't know about this. It
doesn't seem like a good idea. Really, what's got everyone so gutted about anyway?"

"Carolina, please." Harlow stepped closer to her. "There are very dangerous people
coming our way. We need your help."

"Dangerous? Who?" Carolina looked out into the city. "Oh look, here comes Morty.
Harlow, he's not dangerous. He probably couldn't find you at the museum and came to
tell me like he said he would. Morty! Morty! Over here!" She waved her arms
dramatically.

"You told Mortimer Charleston where we are!?" shouted Felix in raging anger. "I
can't believe this. How long have you been fraternizing with that scoundrel?"

"He is not a scoundrel! He's a class act gentleman, and as for how long I've known
him, it's none of your business. You may be full of secrets, brother, but I have a
few as well. The only difference is that my secrets don't harm anyone."

"Don't harm anyone?" her brother cried. "That's the epitome of what you've done."

She reached over and snatched the box from Mouse's grasp. "Morty told me about
these boxes, you know. He said they can get us in a lot of trouble." The white
circles of the box began to flicker and glow. "I for one think we should be afraid
of these things. Not someone offering his help." Throwing it on the ground, she
turned her back on them.

The box lifted into the air and spun wildly. A beam exploded from its core. Pouring
out without caution, the notes of light flashed down on Carolina's back, burning
away the length of her hair while it engraved itself upon her upper back, stopping
where her corset started.

Thank you for reading! If you like what you've read, please remember to vote below.

So this chapter was personally one of the biggest shockers for me to write. How
about you guys, were you surprised or did you see it coming? Let me know in the
comments.

There are a few more surprises in store, so check back for future updates.

The blow from behind knocked Carolina to her knees. Voices yelled back and forth,
but she had no idea who had shoved her. She reached over her shoulder to sooth a
back that should be aching but surprisingly wasn't. It was then she felt something
missing. Instead of the silky touch of hair, she brushed her hands across very
warm, very bare skin. Panic sliced through her. Her shaking fingers slid through
her roots and down the length of her strands. A cold rush of blood fell from her
face when her hands came out clean near the nape of her neck instead of just below
her corset.

"Oh no! Oh no!" Her breathing sharpened and pained her lungs.

"Carolina, luv, are you all right?" Morty asked, lifting her gently at her elbows.

"My . . . my hair. It's gone."

"I'm afraid, darling, that's not the worst of it." He picked up the remaining fox
fur and held it up. Burned in two, smoke escaped its fringes. "You've been infected
by that wretched thing. It's marred your back horribly."

"It what!?" She stretched her shoulder forward to see what he meant, when she
spotted Meriwether approach from the corner of her eye.

He shoved his way between them and took Morty's place by her side. His hands over
hers, he caressed her skin with the swipe of his thumbs. "Are ya alright, lass?"
"I already asked her that, you twit," Morty boomed, straitening his overcoat.

Meriwether's brows shot up at the insult then furrowed down. He lowered Carolina's
hands to turn and face Morty. Though around the same height, Meri's strapping build
overshadowed Morty's lean physique in a way that made the highland boy seem much
larger in comparison.

"Sorry, but when did I invite you on me airship?"

Mortimer pulled Carolina into his arms. "You invited me the moment you and your
mates got this innocent girl wrapped up in your delusional antics."

"That's enough!" Takashi barked. With a long metal pole he snapped out of his
trousers' pocket, he jabbed Mortimer in the chest and loosened his grip on
Carolina's shoulders. "You're not welcome here. Leave now."

"Or what, you'll hit me with that stick?" he mocked, shoving away Takashi's pole.
"We both know how well that worked out last time. Though I am surprised to see you.
Last I heard, you took a long walk outside city limits."

None of what they were saying made sense. Carolina thought they barely knew each
other. Did they meet up sometime while she was at the boxing den? "What's he
talking about?"

Takashi opened his mouth, but Mortimer answered for him. "Oh I'll tell you what he
did. When my mates tried to relieve them of that harmful device--for their own good
mind you--they refused to see reason. Instead, they attacked my friends. It was
foolish and uncalled for, resulting in that boy and his girlfriend tumbling off the
side of the city in blind rage."

"That's a lie!" Harlow yelled, storming forward.

Mortimer ignored her outburst, and slid his fingers through Carolina's short locks.
"But we can fix it, luv."

"You can?" Carolina asked, mesmerized by his smooth words and grey eyes.

"Absolutely. I can whip up a concoction to grow your hair back. I'm sure we can
also remove those marks from your back. Just come with us. It will be like it never
happened."

"Carolina," Harlow pleaded, "don't do it. They only want you because you have the
notes on your back. Once you're away from us, who knows what they'll do to you. For
goodness sake, they tried to kill me and Takashi."

Kill her? Carolina's world tilted off axis. Why was everyone making her feel like a
ragdoll pulled back and forth on the brink of tearing in two? These were her
friends. They shouldn't be bickering like this. "Morty said you fell off."

"He would say that," said Takashi, as if Morty wasn't there. "Frankly, I don't know
what his game is. They try and kill us one minute, then beg one of us to join them
the next?"

Carolina's head pounded. It was impossible to know who to believe. "Maybe they
weren't trying to kill you. Couldn't this all be a giant misunderstanding?"

"Yes!" "No!" Mortimer and Harlow said together then exchanged glares.
With a gentle hand on Carolina's shoulder, Harlow looked up at her with kind eyes.
"Trust me, Carolina, they're lying to you," she tried one more time.

Her sincerity tugged at Carolina's heart. This was her friend. Her best mate.
Surely if something had her so frazzled, it was worth listening to. Carolina began
to reply when a girl with windblown black hair stepped between them and pointed her
finger in Harlow's face.

"If I have to hear that redheaded munter call us liars one more time, I'm going to
wallop her in the mouth." Carolina's mind whirled as she recognized Josephine, her
friend from biology studies, but what was she doing here, and why was she so angry?

"Josephine, stand down," ordered Morty.

"Why? You said not to harm Carolina. This one's begging for it."

Harlow put her hands on her hips. "So that's what I'm doing, is it? I'm pretty sure
I didn't call you a liar when you put a knife to my throat behind the museum. Was I
begging for it then? Now get off this ship, all of you. Carolina's my friend and I
won't stand by and let you deceive her."

Josephine's eyes went wild. Carolina winced as the girl backhanded Harlow across
the face.

Harlow rubbed her stinging cheek. Yet again, she spoke without thinking. Should've
guessed the crazy girl would slap me.

Mouse snatched Josephine's wrist on her follow-through. "You did no' just lay a
hand on me cap'n."

Josephine tugged, but couldn't get free of his grip. "Oh what, so now you'll side
with this freak show over me? You've got some pretty bad taste, you know that,
Meriwether? You should've joined the Red Dragons when you had the chance. I
would've been amazing for you. I'd stick with you through anything."

Mouse eyed her in disgust. "More like stick on me. Like a leech. Knew it was a good
idea not ta join your group."

"Josephine! I thought I told you to stand down," Mortimer exclaimed, snatching the
dark haired girl from Mouse's grasp. "Carolina, forgive her, luv. She overreacts.
The offer still stands. Come with us, and we can help you."

"I . . . I can't, Morty. She just slapped my best friend."

Fear and panic spread across Mortimer's features. "Carolina, I'm begging you,
please."

"Her answer is no," Jackson bellowed. The bald man shoved Mortimer behind him in
one swoop. "You had your chance. This ends now."

Harlow winced as the man crossed the space between her and him in one breakneck
stride. Reaching her, his beefy arms dug into her arms and lifted her off the
ground before she could blink. Dark smoke poured out from under his sleeves. Harlow
wiggled in the air, but it was as if a snake had constricted around her, squeezing
her with each writhe.

Takashi swung his staff at Jackson's head. Within inches of contact, Otto grabbed
the pole and pitched it back. Takashi lunged to attack again, but Otto moved
faster, hooking him in the jaw.

Harlow struggled against Jackson's grip. Gertrude's deck erupted in chaos.

Everything moved in a blur. Voices cried and fists flew. But Harlow's focus locked
on the smoke crawling up her arms. Like a fast moving slug it crawled with life,
gluing her clothes to her skin. She could barely find her breath as cold sunk in
every pore.

The man's icy white teeth bared and his eyes clouded black. "Time to put out your
little light, girlie. Once and for all." He growled low and fierce, smoke pouring
from his clothes.

Harlow dropped her jaw to scream, but nothing came out. In fact, everything around
her went mute. Her world still moved though absent of any noise. Before she thought
too much on it, a high pitched ring invaded the silence. The sound quickly swelled,
as if there were a choir chanting and an orchestra playing at the same time in her
head. The louder it got, the more painfully dissonant the notes became.

Something surged inside her arms. She squirmed again at Jackson's hold. Light
exploded from beneath her jacket in a quick but powerful burst. Jackson snapped his
hands back. She fell to the ground, slamming her hands on her ears. Through the
ear-piercing pain, she looked over to see Takashi and Carolina on their knees
holding their heads as well.

Then everything stilled.

She released her ears and looked up. The Magics, her friends, blimey, even the rain
was frozen still. Only the three hosts moved. As she rose, her arms felt like they
caught fire. Instinctively, she rolled up her jacket sleeves. The tiny words of
light leapt off her skin, and the burning feeling vanished. In a beautiful
glimmering dance, they circled her arms. Moving first in a slow rhythm, they spun
up quickly, resembling two solid glowing rings.

"Takashi? What's going on?" she cried.

"I don't know. The map must be opening." White light encircled his neck.

Carolina pulled her hands in close to her chest as light spun around her torso.
"Harlow! Make it stop!"

"I can't, Carolina. I'm sor-"

Her words were cut short by a loud crack. The lights from each host sprung up,
twisted together, and created one unified beam, shooting up into the dark sky and
splitting the air.

Harlow's breath caught in her throat. The beam grew, enveloping her as Gertrude
faded away. Suddenly, the light jetted towards them, filled with strange images.
Places she'd never been flew about her. An ocean, the desert, perhaps a cave. She
couldn't tell. It was as if she were on an extremely fast moving ship, watching the
scenery move past in reckless abandon and wondering if she should memorize any of
it. She could taste the salt of the waves, feel the heat on her shoulders, and
smell the damp air. Was she still on Gertrude at all?

Then as fast as they came, the images faded, leaving her in darkness.

"Takashi?" she whispered.

"I'm here. Carolina?"

"Here as well, but feeling a bit shambolic. What's that?"

Then the beam of light returned, softly glowing before them.

"Look," said Takashi, "there's something in it." He stretched his hand out into the
beam.

"Are you sure you should do that?" asked Harlow.

"I think it's okay." He tugged his hand back and pulled out a sword. Or what looked
like a sword. She couldn't be sure since it was made of light.

"I see something too," Carolina said. She moved forward and retrieved a shimmering
helmet.

Harlow inched towards the beam. Running her hands in the light, she didn't feel a
thing. Then she moved a bit closer and something hit her shins. "Ow!" She bent down
and picked up a large shield. "What are these things?"

Takashi swung the sword around as if he'd had it his whole life. "I don't know. I
guess Whittle was right about the map holding weapons and armor."

"I'm surprised we can hold them at all. They look like they're made of-" Before
Harlow could finish, black smoke poured in around them.

Magics.

Shadowy silhouettes stood on a blurred vision of Gertrude's deck. Arms raised and
fingertips stretched toward her and her mates, they poised ready to attack.

Harlow looked down at the glowing shield in her grasp. A small symbol of a lamb in
its center caught her eye. Instinct took over. "Behind me," she cried, lifting the
shield across her body. Takashi and Carolina took cover just as black beams
exploded from the Magic's hands.

Darkness met the light in a weighty crash that pushed Harlow back several feet. She
dug her feet into the deck. Arms shaking she stood firm, trusting in the lamb. The
lamb that had saved her before. He would save her now.

The power emanating from the Magics intensified. A splitting crack drew her
attention upward. Her shield buckled and fractured. The pressure was too much. But
it has to hold. It has to. Dark magic pulsed through the air in a deafening low
vibration. Her bones rattled with each pound. The break in her shield grew, slicing
through the light toward her head. The Magics were too strong. Any second, her
shield would shatter. They'd be defenseless.

Harlow tightened her jaw. No. This wasn't going to be like the labyrinth where she
gave up on the light. This time, she'd let her light shine. The lamb will hold. He
will. She took one step forward. And then another. Her arms burned, and her body
gave way. With everything left in her, she extended herself for one last push. She
cried out, and the shield burst in her hands. As suddenly as it came, the light
vanished, thrusting the three hosts to the ground in its wake.

Harlow might as well have been run over by a steam-car. Her head pounded. Opening
her eyes, she was greeted with grey storm clouds filling the heavens darkened by
night. Gertrude's sails shone a sparkling bright green against the passing clouds,
giving Harlow the crazy notion the ship was moving. Lifting her head, she saw the
deck's lanterns swaying on the masts, confirming the late hour.

"Har, you're awake! Felix, come quickly, they're awake!" Harlow turned at her
sister's voice. Brier and Felix flew down the stairs of the sterncastle behind her.

"Oh, Har, thank heavens," Brier gasped, helping her to her feet. "Are you all
right? Can you stand?"

Harlow's legs shook a bit, but she managed to keep her balance. "What happened?"

"Mr. Whittle said you opened the map. Though, I've never seen a map made of
lightning. You passed out cold."

Rubbing her aching jaw, Harlow looked past her sister. Felix helped Carolina up
from where she had lain on deck, and Takashi rose beside her.

"Did you say lightning?" he asked, covering the dim light of his neck with her
sash.

"For certain, mate," Felix answered for Brier. "Came out of the sky and struck all
three of you at once. Scared me half to death."

"Me too," Brier agreed.

Harlow ran her hands over her jacket, checking for any singes. "But we're fine. And
so is the ship."

"That's because it wasn't lightning," said Mr. Whittle, descending the stairs
beside her. He had removed whatever mask he wore before, looking just as she
remembered him. Wrinkled, weathered, yet wise and kind. "Tell me, lass, did you see
anything?"

Maybe she was supposed to memorize the crazy thing after all. "I don't know. Loads
of images. Some weird armor like you said, and then it disappeared. It was much
longer than a strike of lightning though. How long have we been out?" A cool breeze
brushed her cheek as the rushing clouds against the moonlit sky caught her eye.
"Are we moving?" she asked, walking toward the starboard side railing.

"Sure are," Brier confirmed, "and you've been out a good hour."

She spun around. "An hour? And the Magics?"

"Gone. When the lightning, or I mean, the map opened, it pushed everyone back. I
really think it injured the bald one. They landed off on the port and we ended up
here. It also cut the last ropes holding us down. We're headed back to London as we
speak." Brier wrapped her arms around Harlow tightly. "Sat by you the whole time
and you never moved. Then the one time I step away you wake up. I'm glad you're all
right."

Harlow smiled and returned her hug. "Me too." She could hardly believe it. The
lamb, the light, it all worked.

"So they didn't follow us?" asked Takashi.

"No sign of them, mate," said Felix.

Whittle crossed his arms as he stepped closer. "Nor do I think we'll see them for
at least a little while. Things have changed now that the map's opened. They're
fight is not with us anymore, but with something more powerful than you and I can
even begin to imagine. But it's not over. Make no doubt about that. One day, we'll
fight the Red Dragons again."

"That's the absolute last time I follow your orders."

Mortimer tried his hardest to ignore the viper of a girl behind him, but Josephine
knew exactly how to get under his skin. Walking back to his father's ship, he
realized how excruciating the trip to York would be. Not only because he dreaded
relating their progress-or lack thereof-to the Circle, but also because he had to
spend the entire time with her. How he would love for Josephine to stay in Upper
Portsmouth with Jackson. Then he could get some rest on the way.

"If we disposed of just one of them-like I suggested-we wouldn't be in this mess.

But, no, your ridiculous crush on that blonde girl fouled things up. Can't have her
thinking poorly of you, can we? She's a light rat now, Mortimer. You do realize
that makes her your enemy?"

"It may. It may not."

"What does that mean?"

"It means there's still a chance. I can turn her to our ways. You'll see."

She laughed dryly as they approached the large zeppelin. His father's ship awaited
him like a magnificent metal beast. Workers and crewmen buzzed around like ants in
comparison. Its ironclad gondola and menacing frame emanated power. As did most
vessels of the Magnitude's fleet. If only father let him keep this one. Really, he
didn't know it was missing in the first place. It wasn't difficult to convince the
crew that the fool lent it to him for the weekend, but he had to return it once
back from York. Hopefully, if everything went according to plan, he would have his
own ships to rule over soon.

"And how, may I ask, are you going to turn her?" Josephine went on. "The light
didn't just displace us this time. It bloody well shot us off that ship. Who knows
what'll happen to you if you as much as walk up to her. Honestly, how can they say
anything against the shadow arts when they seem to use some kind of supernatural
power at their disposal?"

"I don't know, but we'll find a way to stop them. The Circle believes the light
bearers are a threat, and it's very clear they're right. As for Carolina, I don't
plan on going to her at all. I control something she wants. In time, she will come
to me."

Harlow rested her forearms on the railing of the stern, looking off into the night
sky behind the ship. As they left Upper Portsmouth, they also left the storm. The
clouds dispersed, revealing the most beautiful array of twinkling stars.
Thankfully, Norton agreed to take the helm and give her time to rest. The events of
today wore her thin, and she knew she'd do a poor job steering the ship.

She sighed, leaning out over the rail. She did a poor job at so many things today.
Covering her arms in that museum nearly cost her and Takashi their lives. And how
was she supposed to find the inventor's heir when she couldn't remember a thing
from the map to find him?
"I'm having a bit of déjà vu right now. Should I get my violin?" Takashi's voice
intruded her thoughts. She welcomed him with a smile. Leaning back with his elbows
on the rail, he returned the gesture.

He didn't scare her this time with his sudden presence. After today, she doubted
anything could scare her. Though she had a feeling he'd been standing there much
longer than it seemed.

"How long have you been staring at me."

His right elbow slipped from the railing. He stumbled a little, but quickly
regained his composure. She looked back out at the sky and smirked. She liked
making him fluster.

"Not long. Maybe a few minutes."

"So you admit you were staring at me?"

He paused then laughed, shaking his head. "Alright. Fell into that one. What I
meant to say was I've been standing here only a few minutes. I saw you by yourself
and wanted to make sure you were okay."

She glanced back at him and breathed out. "Always thought I wanted some grand
adventure, you know. Fly off somewhere, just me against the world. But now that I'm
in one . . . I don't know anymore." The wind blew her unruly red mess in her face,
and she pulled a few strands behind her ears. "It's a bit overwhelming. Maybe
Father was right after all."

He tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"It's just what he always tells me whenever he catches me daydreaming." She

straightened her back and lowered her voice in her best Percival Morgan impression.
"If you don't get your head out of the clouds, you'll walk straight into a wall.
And the less you prepare for adventure, the worse it'll be when it finds you. Which
I suppose both are true right now." Her eyes drifted to the sky. "Ugh, I bet he'd
love to be here right now. Rub it in. Then he could remind me of all my other
shortcomings. Like, why can't you be more like Brier? She thinks before she acts.
Or if only you'd show more interest in the smithy trade. And worst of all, you're
so much like your mother."

Takashi's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Why wouldn't you want to be like your
mother?"

"Oh, I have no idea," she shrugged. "Like I said, I never met her. But it's the way
he says it. And that he says it only when I do something disagreeable to his
expectations."

"Sounds like a hard man."

"He is." She flung her hair back out of her face. "But I don't always mind when I'm
related to my mother, only when he does it. My governess said she was gorgeous.
Kindhearted and caring too."

His dark stare grew intense, and he searched her eyes. "You know I do see some of
her in you." He shifted his body and leaned in toward her.

"You do?" she asked, unnerved by his closeness.

"I mean, from what you've told me of her." His hand brushed hers on the rail. Heat
burned through her skin. "You were very kind to help my people when you decided on
this trip. And I don't think you're doing it just for yourself. You backed Carolina
when no one else would. And you did everything to help Whittle too." He leaned in
so close the smell of soap and spice intoxicated her breathing. "As for what your
governess said about your mother's looks . . ."

He took a strand of her hair flying about in the wind and twirled it in his
fingers. "Well . . ." Inch by inch, he lowered his head down to hers.

The warmth of his breath sent a brilliant tingling sensation down her spine. With
her heartbeat pounding through her entire body, she closed her eyes.

"Will you two knock it off?" Norton snapped, startling her. Her eyes flew open.
Takashi had already moved a step back, rubbing his face as he looked away. She
turned her head to the helm where Norton stood, annoyance dripping from his
expression.

"I never would've agreed to fly the ship had I'd known I'd have to listen to all
that drivel. Come on now, it's a large enough ship. Go find somewhere else to
snog."

"I'm sorry," Takashi apologized. "It won't happen again."

"Better not." Norton put both hands back on the wheel and returned to his duties.

It won't happen again? Harlow felt her heart sink and cheeks flush. That was going
to be her first kiss. She knew it. And he said it wouldn't happen again?
Embarrassment turned her emotions on end.

"Harlow," Takashi called, now behind her, "Come below and get some rest. You need
it."

She shook her head. "Think I'll stay out a little longer," she said, hoping her
straight back would hide her disappointment. The last thing she wanted to do was go
down below with the boy who nearly kissed her and then swore he'd never do it
again, a and pretend like nothing happened.

"Okay, well, good night then."

"Good night."

She stared out into the sky, wishing she were somewhere else. Or better yet, that
the last few minutes were spent somewhere else. Maybe it wasn't anything at all.
Thank goodness she didn't make a fool of herself by sticking out her lips. She
dropped her chin into her hand.

Just then, she noticed something blinking abnormally in the distance. Several other
lights surrounding the first light blinked strangely as well. She rubbed her eyes
and took another look.

"Takashi?" she called. Hopefully he hadn't gone below deck yet.

"What is it?" he replied.

She watched the top of his head bob up as he ascended the stairs of the
sterncastle. "Do you see that?" she asked, pointing in the distance.

"See what?"
"That there, dead astern."

He shook his head. "What am I looking for?"

"Lights. Blinking lights. In other words, a ship." She walked briskly over to the
helm. "Norton, do you have the telescope?"

"Aye, it's over there on the gyrocompass."

Grabbing the silver telescope then running back to the railing, she switched on the
night vision and put it to her eye. Just as she thought, a ship flew behind them,
gaining speed. She tossed the scope to Takashi who barely caught it.

"Woah, what is it."

She didn't have time to explain. Orders needed to be given. "Norton, ring the alarm
bell. Wake everyone up and tell Brier to empty her provisionary bags. When you're
finished there, go to the engine room. Have Mouse give us some more steam. I'll
take the wheel."

"Aye!" Norton hurried below, doing as he was told.

"Harlow, what's got you so upset? What did you see?" Takashi asked, trying to slow
her down.

"Brace yourself. Ugh, Brier was right to be frightened. We've got pirates chasing
us."

"Pirates?!"

Out the corner of her eye she saw him fix the telescope to his eye. He then backed
up and slightly bumped into her, dropping the scope on deck with a loud clank.

"Takashi?"

His face went pale.

"Don't worry. I think I can out run them," she assured him. "I've never dealt with
pirates before, but I'll do my best and I'm sure-"

"Those are not pirates," he interrupted.

"What do you mean? Of course they're pirates. That ship looks completely
unregulated."

"They're not pirates. They're far worse."

"What could be worse than pirates?"

"Bounty hunters."

His words stopped her cold. She shook her head in disbelief. "You've got to be
joking. How do you know they're bounty hunters?"

"Because I know that ship. It's my brother's."

Thank you for reading. If you liked what you read, please remember to vote.

Woah, you guys! That chapter was crazy to write. What do you guys think? Did you
see any of that coming? Let me know your thoughts in the comments.

Also, I'd love to know who you think should play the characters in A City in the
Air if it ever became a movie. I'd love to hear your opinions. XD

"Your brother?" Harlow cried, gaping at Takashi. Her squinted eyes had gone from
desire to bafflement in a swift second. Her hands slipped from the spokes of the
ship's wheel she turned, and she fumbled for composure. "But that makes no sense at
all."

Takashi shivered from the wind sliding over the sweat on his brow. How he wished he
were wrong. But the only doubts he had right then had everything to do with his
reactions to the stunning girl at the helm and nothing to do with that ship. No, he
knew exactly who flew behind them. "It's my brother, Harlow, trust me."

He picked up the telescope that rolled by his feet to look once more for
certainty's sake. The distance between the two vessels had closed in further,
giving him a better view. Lit by hanging torches that made the whole thing look
like it breathed fire, a large rotor replaced the sails at the center of the black
ship along with several smaller rotors spinning their blades at the stern and bow.

"There's no mistaking it. If you know of any other Japanese kurofune airships with
black dragon figureheads, let me know. Otherwise, it's him," he declared, tossing
the scope back on its original spot.

How could he forget the years his brother had spent remodeling the ancient ship by
the seashore back home? It was to be one of the country's first trading vessels
when Japan opened its borders. But its purpose--and his brother--had changed
drastically in the months following its completion.

Gertrude jerked forward. Harlow's instructions must've reached Meriwether. Her

small frame tightening, Harlow struggled to steady the ship. A moment later, she
regained control and relaxed. "Fine, we'll say that's your brother. Why on earth is
he chasing us?"

"The Northern Kingdom is paying him to. I said he's a bounty hunter. That's what he
does. Brings his prey back dead or alive-whichever's most convenient." Good Lord,
saying the words out loud felt so unreal. How can this be happening? Takashi fought
back a wave of dizziness threatening to throw him off balance.

"But he's your brother. So the alive part applies to you, right?"

"Not necessarily. He and I aren't on the best of terms."

A heart stopping whistle sounded. Something shot past them off the starboard side.
In a blur, the projectile nicked one of the ship's masts, casting splinters of wood
across the deck. Their bodies lunged to the side from the sudden impact.

"He fired at us!" she exclaimed, using the wheel to pull her body upright.
"So we're not on good terms at all."

The thumping stomps of someone climbing the sterncastle turned his attention to the
portside stairs. Brier soon emerged with a large bag hung over her shoulder, and
Felix trailed close behind. With eyes wide, goggles strapped on the top of her head
and around her neck, she gave Takashi the impression of the mad scientist he'd
assumed all Smiths were before he came to this country. She dumped the contents of
the bag on the deck. All sorts of arsenal tumbled forth.

"I knew it. I knew it. You all thought I was crazy for bringing this. Bet you're
glad now," Brier stood back with hands on her hips, admiring her collection of
gadgets. "Let's just see one of those air-pirates step foot on this ship. They
won't have a chance against us."

"Strange looking air-pirates," remarked Felix from the back railing of the stern.
He'd picked up the scope Takashi had thrown and leaned out over the rail. "Is that
ship even from around here?"

"No it is not." Takashi bent down and dug through Brier's pile of weapons. "And
they're not air-pirates. But they're just as dangerous. If not more." He tilted his
head towards the side of the ship where they'd been hit. "If possible, we should
avoid any attempt they make to board us. Nothing here will protect us for long."

"What do you mean?" Brier rubbed the side of some kind of stunning weapon with her
shirtsleeve, and held it out like a prized treasure. "These are state of the art."

"And ultimately useless against Ryuu. He is a skilled warrior."

Felix came up beside them with his thumbs hanging in the pockets of his waistcoat,
cocking his head to the side. "Who's Ryuu?"

"His brother. Brace yourselves!" yelled Harlow. She spun the wheel hard. Takashi
grabbed on to whatever he could to keep from body slamming into Brier's weapon
pile. Missiles sliced the air. The ship swerved. Takashi's legs and insides
quivered and swayed.

When Ryuu ceased fire, Harlow steadied the ship. Nothing had hit them, meaning
everything his brother fired off was a warning shot.

"That's your brother? Well, he's not too friendly now is he?" Felix pointed out,
pulling himself to his feet. "Wait a second. You never told us you had a brother."

"He's my half-brother, and there wasn't any need to speak of him until now."

"But why--"

"He's closing in!" Harlow shouted, cutting Felix off. Still gripping the wheel, she
twisted her upper half to watch Ryuu descend upon them. "Gertrude's fast, but not
that fast. We may not have a choice here. If he wants to board us, he's going to."

Takashi's skin crawled. No way was he ready for that, yet he had to prepare for the
worst. If Harlow was right, and from the closeness of their ships he knew she was,
then he was going to have to face Ryuu head on. For years he'd known this day would
come, but not now. Not like this.

"Then we need to be ready for him when he does. Or at least as ready as we can be."
His options fleeting, Takashi straightened his spine. It was time to face this. Be
a man. "Since I'm a host, we cannot afford for him to collect neither me nor my
corpse. Brier, do you have anything else besides what's in this bag. A sword
maybe?"

"There's one in the hold. What are you planning to do with it? Slice him in half? I
thought it was okay to use against pirates, but your brother?"

"I have no choice. He'll be using his on any one of us given the chance. My staff
cannot hold its own against his katana, but a sword may." He ran down the stairs
and called to Harlow at the bottom. "Do not let him board if you can!"

Don't let him board? There was only so much maneuvering Harlow could do to keep
Takashi's brother from blowing Gertrude to pieces. Asking her to not let him board
was ridiculous. In a matter of minutes, their unwelcome guest would arrive whether
they liked it or not. She hoped Takashi's sword idea would help, but doubted it.

"Brier, are you ready?"

"Nearly. I've hidden some bags here and there just in case we need them later." Her
sister looked dreadfully comical, covered head to toe in weapons. Brier was strong,
and her weapons were top notch, but as far as Harlow knew her sister had never
fought a soul. And though Felix could hold his own in a fight, he stood there next
to Brier with his arms crossed, smirking.

"So, how do you figure you're going to use that gun? Blunt force?" he asked Brier,
laughter bubbling his voice.

Brier's arms flapped down by her side. "By pulling the trigger of course. Don't
think because I'm a girl, that I've never shot a weapon."

"I don't deny that, but that there's a double handed musket I'm sure you've
converted into a stun gun. With a barrel that long and a pistol in your other hand,
it might be hard to use beyond whacking someone over the head."

"Ooo!" Brier huffed. Stomping her foot, she threw the musket down behind her.
"There. Better? At least I've got something. What are you going to use?"

Felix rubbed his chin as he mused Brier's supply. "Haven't decided yet."

"You better choose quickly," Harlow rushed. Ryuu's ship slid into her peripheral
vision. The beast doubled Gertrude in size. She held the wheel tightly and tried to
pull away from the inevitable. "Cause here . . . he . . . comes!"

BAM!

Ryuu's ship collided with Gertrude's port side in a body tossing jolt. Brier and
Felix fell on their sides on impact. By the time they'd recovered, a long boarding
plank plunged onto Gertrude's deck, connecting the two ships. There was nothing
Harlow could do but stare as men dressed in all black piled onto their ship.

Felix yanked the smoke pellets off Brier's belt and tossed them at the invaders. He
grabbed the musket from the ground and shot at the men emerging from the smoke
clouds. Two rods sprung forth from the barrel then fell short before reaching their
target.

"Brier?!" he hollered, his panicked hands holding out the useless gun.

"What? That was made in a hurry. I didn't have time to test it." Brier aimed her
pistol at an invader, fired, and her tranquilizers found purchase in the man's
neck. Collapsing on deck, he gave way for another assailant who charged them and
sliced Felix's musket in half.

"Blunt force it is." Using the back end of the musket, Felix walloped his attacker
on the temple.

Through the chaos, the sides of the ships began to rub, making an awful crunch.
Harlow had to stop Gertrude quickly before any more damage was done. She pulled the
lever on the hover mechanism. The opposing propulsion engines kicked on, forcing
Gerturde to stop moving forward and maintain a longitudinal and lateral position
while keeping a steady altitude. The other ship jerked forward then followed suit.
Only, now their stationary position freed up every foe on the other ship to invade
their vessel. It wasn't long before they were all overpowered and brought
amidships.

A man wearing a triangular metal hat that reflected the green glow of Gertrude's
lamps, leapt off the boarding plank. His wide trousers reminded Harlow of Takashi
on First Day as they flapped in the wind. He swaggered toward her, confident and
deadly. There was no doubt who this man was. Thin, striking, sable eyes. Angular
set jaw. Long ink black hair. He wasthe spitting image of Takashi, only several
years older.

"Tell me," Ryuu cooed in a deep, ominously calm voice. "Where is my brother?"

Moments earlier

Adrenaline shook Takashi's limbs as he descended into the hold. The quicker he
found the sword and returned the better. Ryuu was merciless against anyone who
stood in his way. The room violently shook from the sharp movements of the ship.
Cans and boxes tumbled off the shelves. He tripped on the last two steps and fell
forward.

"Woah there, lad." Mr. Whittle said, catching him before he hit the ground. "Are
you all right?"

With Whittle's help, Takashi regained balance. "I am. Thank you." Takashi looked
past the old man, noticing he wasn't alone down there. A little further into the
hold, Norton ran his hands along the ground as if searching for something. "What
are you two doing down here?"

"Ah, yes, now that you're here, you may be able to help us. When Mr. Haringer here
informed me of our pirate predicament, I enlisted his aid in finding some of
Gertrude's built in security features. I installed most of them in the hold, but it
was so long ago, I can't remember where they all are." Whittle pointed at Takashi's
covered neck. "It's very difficult to find anything in this dimly lit place. I
really should've installed better lighting down here, but since we have you, things
will go much quicker."

"I'm sorry," Takashi said. Moving past him, he began to dig through one of Brier's
bags. "But I don't have time to look for anything except a sword." The first bag
was light and didn't hold more than a few small daggers. He tucked a couple of them
away through his belt and rummaged through the next bag. "Oh, and pirates are the
least of our concerns. Here it is." He pulled out the sword, still in its sheath,
from the sack.

Whittle crossed his arms and frowned. "If pirates aren't a concern, young man, then
what you're doing with that cutlass?"
"I--" Takashi said, but was cut off by a quick jolt of the ship. A thunderous bang
soon followed. The room grew darker than before. The only light shown dimly through
the grate of the loading hatch above them.

"What was that?" cried Norton in alarm.

Mr. Whittle stepped closer to the staircase and stretched his head upward towards
the entry door. "I do believe whatever jostled the ship also closed the door."

Takashi had no time to stand around. If his brother made it on board, he needed to
get topside. Now. He dashed up the stairs with a firm grasp on the cutlass. Coming
to a complete stop at the door, he turned the knob and pushed as hard as he could.
It was no use. The confounded thing wouldn't open. He jiggled the handle and tried
again, but the results were the same. Somewhat visible through the slight crack
between the door and the frame was a large object trapping them in the hold.

"Let's try it together," said Whittle, climbing the stairs behind him. "On three.
One. Two. Three!" They rammed their shoulders against the door. The wooden frame
barely budged. "No, that's not going to do it. We'll have to find some other way
out of here."

Not good. Who knew how long that would take? The quickest way out was through that
door. "Maybe if Norton tries with us--"

"Pssst!" Norton beckoned them from below. "Come quickly," he whispered with
intensity in his voice, "you've got to see this."

Takashi descended the stairs closely behind Whittle. In the middle of the hold,
Norton stood staring up through the grated hatch. The night made it difficult to
see, but within moments Takashi saw what had Norton so interested.

Ryuu stood directly over them, resting his arm on the hilt of the katana at his
waist. Though Takashi couldn't make out all his features, he recognized his brother
immediately by his signature attire. The wide brimmed iron jingasa covering his
head and the giant hakama pants were so traditional compared to the western white
shirt and tailored black waistcoat he wore. No one dressed that way except Ryuu.

"Otouto, otouto, where are you?" Ryuu's spoke calmly and quietly, almost as if he
could sense Takashi's presence below. "Come out now and quit your hiding."

"Who's Otouto?" whispered Norton.

"I am," Takashi answered through tight lips. "It means little brother."

"He's your brother? No way." Norton squinted. "Suppose I can see the family
resemblance. What's he doing on Gertrude?"

"He's been trying for years to hand me over to the Northern Kingdom. They put a
price on my head, and he aims to collect it."

Mr. Whittle's face dropped to meet Takashi's eyes, horror slacking his jaw. "Your
brother works for the Northern Kingdom of Japan? Do you know what they'll do to
anyone carrying the notes of light?"

Takashi swallowed. He tried not to think about it. "Yes, but he doesn't share in
their ideals. Just their greed. Besides, they don't want me for the notes. It's far
more personal than that."
"Nice friends you have here, otouto. Why don't you come out and introduce them to
me?" Ryuu went on. His tone floated through the air with a silky smooth musicality
that sank dread into Takashi's gut. He knew his brother's threats all too well.
Enraged, he made for the door.

His momentum stopped when Whittle grabbed his arm. "Where are you going?"

"I have to try the door again. Ryuu will hurt them if I don't show myself."

Mr. Whittle looked up through the hatch in each direction then back at him. "I
count at least eight men from here. Even if you do find a way through that door, do
you plan on taking them on by yourself?"

Takashi bit his lip then resigned. The man was right. He had no chance by himself.

Without a reply from his brother, Ryuu continued. "No? I thought you were more
polite than that. Not to worry, I brought my own company." He signaled one of his
men to leave the deck. When the man returned Takashi felt as if the floor of the
hold dropped from beneath him. Bound behind their backs, Himura, Miki, and Koji
collapsed beside the hatch, pushed forward by Ryuu's men.

"You remember your oba-san?" Ryuu asked then laughed. "Why wouldn't you? She is
your aunt after all." He bent down and smashed Himura-sensei's cheeks together in
his grasp, forcing her head up to face him. "Such a fighter. Wouldn't give up your
location even after we broke her legs."

Takashi's hand covered his mouth to hold back his gasp. His sensei writhed in pain
in his brother's hold. Her groans tore through him like a blade to his heart.

"Luckily, she still drags around orphans and runaways who squeal like pigs at the
hint of torture." Ryuu dropped her face and kicked Koji in the side. "This one sold
you out immediately." Koji cowered back in shame. "But in his defense, we did have
to break two of his fingers first."

Fury filled Takashi's being. To think he used to admire his older brother. What
could he possibly have seen in him? He climbed up on one of the crates that could
support his weight, and reached up to the hatch. Before he touched it Mr. Whittle
and Norton dragged him down.

"Let me go," he cried, his voice harsh yet quiet enough not to be heard by Ryuu.

"What did I say about going up there right now?" reasoned Whittle. "Choose your
battles wisely, my boy. Your brother's egging you on so you'll go at him in a blind
rage. Can't you see that? If you give him that satisfaction you'll never win."

"I'm with Mr. Whittle," said Norton. "Those look like some pretty serious blokes
he's got with him. You need a plan. Now come over here and shine that weird neck
light of yours."

Climbing off the crate before Whittle dragged him down, Takashi followed Norton to
a further back section of the hold. The skinny boy tapped on the floor below until
it made a hollow sound. He then pounded a spot with his elbow as a trap door popped
open. "Mr. Whittle, this what you were looking for?"

"Ha, yes lad, you found it."

Takashi leaned forward. "Found what?"

A wily grin turned up Norton's cheeks. "A plan."

Tears swelled in Harlow's eyes, blinding her vision. With her hands bound by one of
Ryuu's men, she had to blink continuously just to see. Her arms burned in his grip
as she wiggled to break free and tackle Takashi's brother. But his hold was firm,
and all she could do was stand there and stare. She hated being this helpless. That
sick monster broke Miss Himura's legs just to get at his own flesh and blood. And
there was nothing she could do about it but watch the woman suffer and cry.

How could this have happened? Harlow's head ached to wrap her mind around it all.
Did she hear Ryuu right when he called Miss Himura Takashi's aunt? He never said
anything about her being his aunt before. But then again, why would he? She
shouldn't expect to know everything about him in a few weeks.

Where is he anyways? Last she saw him he went down into the hold to get that silly
sword. Really, that shouldn't take this long. And didn't he hear the noises or feel
the movement of the ship when Ryuu boarded? Ryuu's men searching the quarters and
engine room as he spoke would soon find Mouse and Carolina. She had no idea where
Mr. Whittle or Norton were, but it seemed like everything depended on Takashi. And
he was nowhere to be found.

"Senpai," said one of Ryuu's men as he exited the door to the quarters. "I found
this one down below, and the girl too." He gripped Mouse's arm while another man
brought out Carolina.

"Good, have you found Takashi?"

"No, not yet."

Ryuu shoved past the man. "I'm growing tired of this otouto!" he called out. Hands
behind his back, he made a straight line for Harlow. "Maybe one of your English
friends can persuade you to show yourself."

That made her nervous. After what he did to Takashi's friends, she certainly didn't
want him coming over to her. Just then, a flash of light caught her eye. She
glanced up then immediately put her head back down, not wanting to give away what
she saw. Someone-and she had a good idea who-piloted the strangest looking sparrow
above them.

It wasn't any wonder that no one else saw it. In the darkness, even her eyes could
barely make out the little plane. Its wings moved like a sparrow's, but since it
was shaped more like a flying fish, she knew it was one of Whittle's creations.

She tried her hardest not to smile.

"These must be those two girls you came to see," Ryuu went on. "Or was it just
their father? I honestly can't remember."

From her peripherals Harlow saw the plane land on Ryuu's abandoned ship.

"Do you remember that time I came to visit you in Osaka? I bet you wish you didn't
tell me about them that night now don't you? If only your meddling samurai
protectors let me take you then, I would have received my reward seven years ago."
He grabbed Harlow around her waist and pulled her from her captor's grasp. "Do you
know how exhausting seven years of hunting can be?"

"Not nearly as exhausting as seven years of running from you." Ryuu spun around at
his brother's voice. Hair flowing in synch with the breeze and his body straight
and fierce, Takashi stood on the edge of the boarding plank, one hand on the hilt
of a sword strapped to his waist and the other holding a blazing torch over Ryuu's
ship. Ryuu's men unsheathed their swords and pointed them at Takashi while
maintaining their distance.

"Now drop your weapons," ordered Takashi, "or say goodbye to your precious
kurofune."

Ryuu blurted out a coarse laugh. "There you are, otouto. Now tell me, what do you
hope to accomplish with that one little torch?"

"One torch and several gallons of kerosene," answered Norton, emptying a can onto
Ryuu's ship then joining Takashi on the plank.

All humor left Ryuu's face. He yanked Harlow against his hip, pulled out his sword,
and touched the blade to her neck. "Drop that stick on my kurofune, and she dies."

"Harlow," Takashi gasped. He stepped forward, pulling his sword half way from its
sheath.

"Unh, ah." Ryuu warned, moved the blade closer to Harlow's throat, forcing her to
stretch her neck to keep the sharp point from slicing her skin.

Takashi took a step back and sheathed his sword. "Let her go, this has nothing to
do with her."

"Oh, I don't think so. It seems as though I've found your weakness, otouto. Harlow
is it?" His hand snaked from her waist up to her hair, tugging some of it to his
face for a sniff. "Very beautiful, Takashi. Her hair smells of lavender."

"Don't touch me!" She exclaimed, managing not to lower her jaw into his blade.

"Ah, and fiery too. Just like her mother."

"Shut your mouth, Ryuu!" yelled Takashi.

Harlow's mind spun. "My what?"

"You haven't told them yet?" Ryuu let her hair drop and grinned. Pure evil seeped
through his teeth. "How unkind."

"I'm warning you, brother, don't."

"Don't what, tell her the truth?" Sliding in so close, Ryuu's hot breath seared her
ear. "Such a delicate creature deserves to know about her own mother, don't you
think? And who better to tell her than the one who's lived with Clara-san for
nearly seven years?"

It felt like a dream. The most horrible nightmare of a dream she couldn't wake
from. Yet as she stood frozen in shock, it kept getting worse.

"But I guess not." Ryuu pulled away and stuck out his lower lip in a mock pout.
"And who would expect such terrible manners from the prince of the Northern
Kingdom?"

Thank you for reading! If you like what you've read, please remember to click that
star.
This has to be one of my favorite parts in the book. What do you guys think?
Takashi is a prince?! He lived with Harlow's mom for seven years?! Crazy, right?
Tell me what you think in the comments. (Only a couple chapters to go!)

Hot fury surged through Takashi's being. On the brink of losing control, his arm
shook the hilt of his sword. He knew he couldn't lash out right then and fought to
keep the weapon sheathed. Ryuu's men would slice him to pieces before he got
anywhere near Harlow. But watching the truth of his past tear into the girl before
him made the suicidal move seem less rash by the second.

Ryuu was right about one thing. Harlow deserved to know the truth of her mother.
And every failed attempt to tell her left him with no excuse. He should have fought
harder. Made time to talk about what was difficult. She shouldn't have found out
like this. Never like this. She must think I used her. Hearing only half the story
certainly made it seem that way.

"Takashi, what is he talking about?" A few feet from Harlow, struggling against her
captors, Brier begged him for answers with equal hurt in her eyes.

"Yes, go on otouto," snickered his conniving brother, "tell them all how you
deserted your country to live with an English woman and that traitor Himura-san.
How you abandoned life as a prince to chase some ancient nonsense you think will
save the Southern Kingdom from extinction. Who, might I remind you, are your sworn
enemies from birth."

This is a joke. Since when did Ryuu care about politics? Takashi mentally kicked
himself for having trusted him that night in Osaka. The excitement to see his
brother impaired his better judgment. If only he had noticed the crazed look in
Ryuu's eyes before he had told him about the Morgans and the notes of light, then
they wouldn't be in this mess. He should have known Ryuu wasn't the same. He would
never be the same.

"You know that's not true," said Takashi. "I didn't give up on my inheritance. It
was ripped out from under me when those rebels murdered my parents."

Ryuu's eye twitched for a brief second. But a second was all Takashi needed.
Apparently his brother was still in complete denial when it came to the death of
their mother. Something in Ryuu had snapped the night of her death. It was as if
his brain fashioned a crazy switch inside him that flipped on at the mention of
that memory. When Ryuu showed up in Osaka, Takashi had experienced firsthand how
the truth affected his brother. It had been the only way Takashi's samuri had been
able to protect him. He knew if he pushed the subject, Ryuu would lose control--
become an emotional wreck. A much easier opponent.

But he had to be careful. Whittle hadn't given the signal yet, and Ryuu still had
his katana at Harlow's throat.

"Don't you remember, Ryuu? My father wasn't enemies with the Southern Kingdom."

He passed the torch to Norton. Several lanterns on Gertrude darkened, distracting

Ryuu's men. Whittle's signal. Ryuu lowered his katana, and Takashi moved forward.
"In fact, he wanted to unite the two kingdoms, making a unified Japan. The coup
that rose up hated him for his Southern Kirishitan sympathies. He longed for peace
and was murdered in his sleep for of it. You remember that night, don't you?"

As he moved in, slender metal limbs emerged from underneath compartments scattered
across Gertrude's deck. Whittle's automatons snatched the ankles of Ryuu's men.
Chaos broke out over the ship. The copper beasts fully surfaced their round plated
bodies, upending the men they'd grabbed and tossing them across deck like dolls.
The men balked back from the seven foot giants' with bright green eyes. And the
ones that didn't, drew their swords, releasing their captors.

Brier wasted no time and dashed for a bag hidden under a pile of rope. She tossed
weapons to Felix before firing tripping wires around their attackers' ankles. They
fought alongside the robots with Brier's arsenal while Meriwether used his fists.

Ryuu, however, didn't react to the maddness around him. With a glossed over gaze,
his sword lowered by the moment.

"How could anyone forget that night?" Takashi shouted over the commotion. "The
night our mother was betrayed by her own countrymen? The countrymen she trusted."

"No, no," Ryuu cried, his eyes clenched, his head shaking.

Takashi had a little time left before his brother went berserk. He moved with haste
across Gertrude. "The same men who want to kill the rightful prince of Japan-your
brother." He drew his sword. "And the same men you work for!"

"No!" Like lightning, Ryuu lifted his katana in the air and hurled it down.

Takashi caught the blade with his edge of his cutlass before it sliced him in two.
The tension in their swords sang out a crunching screech. Harlow dipped down and
spun away. Takashi pushed up on his cutlass. Breaking the hold, he stepped back a
few paces.

The English weapon had an odd shape to it, but it would do. Takashi grasped the
hilt with both hands and held it in front of him near his waist, blade tip pointed
at Ryuu's throat. Ryuu drew the hilt of his katana close to his face then tilted
his katana downward. One foot crossing over the other, they circled each other like
tigers preparing to pounce.

"It doesn't have to be like this, Ryuu." Takashi studied his brother's posture,
looking for any hint of a pending attack. He knew he had to draw him into a sloppy
rage soon, or his advantage would be over before it began. "You can stop working
for the traitors."

"You know nothing," Ryuu spat.

"I know they murdered our mother."

Anger flared behind Ryuu's eyes. This was it. He lunged forward, his aim right at
Takashi's shoulder. Their swords met with a jarring blow. His feet grounded to
absorb the impact, Takashi pushed his brother back only to be attacked again. The
metal of their blades rang out, clashing over and over. Though messy, Ryuu's skills
hadn't decreased in the least bit from last they fought. The longer he spared
against him, the more he realized they hadn't increased either. But Takashi's had.

Ryuu forced him up onto a bench then swung at his legs. Takashi jumped, twisted his
body, and landed beside Ryuu before he lost both limbs. Ryuu wasted no time. He
circled his katana around his body, hacking away, yet each blow deflected. His
brother was emotional and reckless.
Takashi pulled the hilt of his cutlass down to his hip, concealing the weapon while
inviting an attack. Ryuu took the bait. He drew his sword over his head to strike.
Takashi stepped to the right then forward. He sliced the leather strap holding
Ryuu's jingasa, sending the metal hat tumbling to the deck with a booming clank.

"You'll pay for that," Ryuu growled, rubbing the red mark on his cheek where the
jingasa strap had snapped him when it broke.

"With what? My life? I assumed you wanted that by coming here."

"No. With something more precious to you." Ryuu kicked over a bucket of water
between them, covering the deck with the slippery liquid. He ran toward the
sterncastle where Harlow pressed her back against the wall with nowhere to escape.

"Ryuu! Don't!" Takashi fell to his side and slid across the slick floor. Ryuu
reached her, and lifted his katana over his head. Harlow flinched. Takashi stopped
his slide then took off in a sprint. His brother's blade descended.

Harlow lifted her arms to her head. A flash of light burst through her sleeves, and
everything went still.

Though Takashi was unaffected, everyone else doubled over, covering their eyes from
the blast. Even the automatons creaked to a halt.

Takashi knew an advantage when he saw one. He kicked the katana from Ryuu's grasp,
crouched down, and swiped Ryuu's legs, knocking him on his backside. Jumping on top
of him, Takashi lifted the hilt of his cutlass and put his other hand low against
the flat side of the blade near Ryuu's chest.

Seconds later, Ryuu blinked awake. When he realized the position he was in, he
jerked and squirmed. Yet, nothing could release him from Takashi's hold. "What are
you going to do with me now, otouto? Finish me off? You must've wanted to do this
for a long time now. Go ahead. Unless you're as much of a coward as your father
was."

A buried fury rose within Takashi's bones. He'd never contemplated killing his
brother. But the insult to his father sparked an uncontrollable thirst of
vengeance. He lifted his blade to strike.

"Takashi!" Harlow snapped out of her trance just in time to stall Takashi's
downward thrust. "You can't. He's your brother."

Though he didn't discard his blade, he didn't slay Ryuu either. She clenched
Takashi's shirt sleeve in her shaking fist. Mixed emotions fought within her. He
knew her mother, lived with her half his life, and kept it from her this whole
time.

She wanted to hit him. Ball up her fists and pound until he knew how much his
concealment hurt. But when she saw the torment in his eyes while his sword hovered
over Ryuu, memories of her own lies filled her vision. She'd shattered him with her
slander--gave him that same tortured look, and yet he seemed to forgive her.

She caused him pain. He caused her pain. But there had to be an end to it all.

"I don't know what he did to you, but please don't do this." She inhaled deep into
her lungs. "I know it's hard. To grow up without a parent. Watching everyone around
you happy with theirs and knowing you'll never have what they have. But is one
insult worth losing your brother too?

"That day you were kicked out of school, someone insulted my father too. It made me
so furious that I got caught up in a lie I never meant to say. I felt terrible.
Miserable and trapped. Murdering your brother won't make you feel any better."

Takashi turned his gaze on her. He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity.
Then the fiery heat in his eyes melted, and he lowered his weapon. Taking her hand,
he stood. "We're done here," he said, walking away from Ryuu.

"What? That's it? I knew you were a coward, Takashi. Come back here and fight me!"
shouted his fool of a brother. "Or do you care nothing for what little honor you
have left?"

She tightened her grip on Takashi's hand when he came to a stop, staring ahead. She
followed his gaze. Heat burned her skin from the scene before them. "Don't think
you'll be fighting anyone," she said. "Not with your airship on fire."

Ryuu pushed past them. "No!"

Norton stood on the plank, staring at the flames, dumbfounded. "I . . . I don't
know what happened. There was this bright light . . . and . . ."

"Norton! The ornithompter!" cried Harlow.

"Oh right!" Norton dashed on the vessel. Avoiding the flames, he hopped into the
aircraft, and took off.

Ryuu and his men abandoned the fight to rush on the ship. Half of them stole
buckets of water from Gertrude to douse the flames, and the other half dragged
their injured onto Ryuu's ship. Once gone, Takashi kicked off the boarding plank.
Brier rushed to attend their own wounded, and Harlow took to the helm to dislodge
them from the enemy craft. Releasing the air anchor and turning the wheel, she left
the burning ship sink to the earth below. Takashi soon joined her, telescope to his
eye.

"Do you think they'll be alright?" she asked.

He nodded. "They're landing now." He lowered the scope down then leaned against the
railing. "I think they'll get the fire out, but that ship's not going anywhere
anytime soon." Collapsing on the bench by the rail, Takashi dug his fingers through
his hair and stared at her in exhaustion. "Harlow, I-"

"Shush," she quieted him before he could go on. "Later. We'll talk about it later."

Her words calmed him, and he drifted off to sleep, lying peacefully like a warrior
home from battle. The remainder of the trip Harlow couldn't keep her eyes off him.
She wondered what to make of this walking bag of secrets. This sword-fighter who
risked his life to save hers. This sleeping boy beside her who tugged at her heart.

Thank you for reading! Every vote means so much to me. If you like what you've
read, please click the star.

We have one more chapter to go! I can't believe we've gotten to the end so soon. I
hope to add a few little extras for you after that. So here's my question. What
would you like to see as an extra once A City in the Air is complete? A contest?
Q&A page? Let me know in the comments! :)

Harlow bounced on her feet under a flickering streetlight. The afternoon sun
colored the sky magenta and gold. Fidgeting with a tuff of hair near her neck, she
wound the strands into a firm knot then let them go. She flattened out her knee
length, ruffled skirt, and tucked her freezing fingers into the sleeves of her wool
coat. London's winter had snuck up a good two months early, and there she was,
standing outside her home, shivering like a ninny. How long is this going to take?

The first day back to Featherington since the wild trip to Upper Portsmouth had
been torture enough. Thank goodness it had ended a few hours early. Afraid she'd
see signs of Mortimer or Josephine, she'd been looking over her shoulder off and
on, unable to concentrate on anything. The fact that she hadn't spotted them in the
halls or on school grounds did little for her anxiety. They must have had their
reasons for not showing their faces. And so far, their reasons for doing anything
weren't good.

And then there'd been assembly. Mr. Whittle had spoken to the Headmaster, getting
Ms. Himura reinstated. Although Takashi and his mates had missed the entire school
day, they had joined Ms. Himura on stage as she rolled across in her new wooden
wheelchair. Brier had clapped. Felix had cheered. Yet, even when that moment had
been exactly what she'd wanted-what she'd put herself in danger for-all Harlow
could do was squirm in her chair as Takashi's gaze, all fire and heat, had drifted
over her time and time again.

At the end of assembly, he'd made his way through the masses to her, trying to tell
her something she couldn't quite make out. Though he'd stood mere feet away, the
auditorium had been so deafening with chatter that she'd only understood "can we
talk" and "clear things up". It wasn't until Koji, with his wrapped hand tugging on
his arm, did Takashi shout.

"Can we meet up at your house?" he had called out as Koji yanked.

She'd stood on her tiptoes and cuffed her mouth. "You even know where I live?"

All he'd given her in response was a nod. Or at least she thought it was a nod.
Could've been a resut from his mate pulling him so hard. Standing there in the
cold, waiting for him to possibly pop around the bend, had part of her wishing it
were a nod.

The other part hoped Brier would show first. Her sister had an after studies Smith
presentation to attend that should've let out before sunset. Twenty minutes into
her waiting, Harlow had told herself it was Brier she was really waiting on. And if
she showed first, then too bad, Takashi. She'd be inside warming her feet by the
fire right away. The thought had her wiggling her toes in anticipation. She tilted
her head down to blow a puff of warm air into her frigid palm. When she looked back
up, there he was.

Beside a gaslight opposite the cobblestone street from her, Takashi stood noble and
phantom-like, as if he'd appeared from thin air. He wore the same fitted, black
trousers and waistcoat that had her insides flutter earlier. A scarlet scarf
covered his high collar and ascot, and a long black coat with golden embroidery
blew about his knees in the frosty air.

He moved toward her with purpose. She straightened her spine, determined to be
unaffected by his lure until she got some answers out of him. He bowed in the way
he always did then looked right at her when he rose.

"I guess you found the place alright," she said, as detached as she could muster.

"Felix gave me directions."

That didn't surprise her. That boy stuck his nose in other people's business like
no other.

"So, um, Whittle reinstated you," she started.

He stepped toward her, and she held her ground. "Yes, thank you for that. Look,
Harlow, about what happened with my brother--"

"She was your tutor," Harlow interrupted. No way was he getting the upper hand in
this conversation.

Stunned at her outburst, he shook his head. "Wait, what?"

"Your English tutor," she repeated. "The one you didn't want to talk about on the
Guardian. My governess said she was a linguist."

He bit his lip and nodded before he replied. "One of the best. We met the day after
my parents died. My oba-san, um, I mean aunt, took me to the orphanage Clara-san
ran in the Southern Kingdom since it was a good hiding place. I lived there with
Koji and Miki learning English from her for years.

"But when Ryuu found me, we couldn't stay. The Northern Kingdom kept us on the run
all the time, and Clara-san came with us. If we don't find that artifact, the
people of the South have no hope. Clara-san believed the notes were either at
Featherington, or your father had them and didn't know." He reached in his coat and
pulled out several folded pieces of paper, handing them to her. "She gave us these
instructions to search for them."

Harlow unfolded a small strip of paper and stared down at black marks written in a
language she couldn't understand, by a woman she never knew. She'd never in her
life felt as completely used as she did holding those papers.

"She knew how important our mission was," he went on, though she didn't bother
looking up at him. "Made us promise not to tell anyone about her until the moment
was right in case-"

"In case what!" Harlow snapped. She dropped the dumb letters down by her side and
couldn't help but crumple them in her fist. "In case my family doesn't want
anything to do with her? Like she didn't want anything to do with us?"

"It, it's not like that," he stammered.

"Oh no? Then what is it like?" Hot fury burned her cheeks until she no longer felt
the cold. "Are we not good enough? Didn't pass the Takashi test of who's worthy to
tell the truth to and who isn't? Or maybe it's just me, then. You had your chance
to tell me on that ship, and you didn't. Why? You don't trust me?"

Takashi gripped the back of his hair and clenched his eyes tight. He moved a step
back, tension shaking his hands. "You're her daughter," he erupted, releasing his
tousled mane. "Her daughter. How was I supposed to tell you?"

His sable eyes flooded her with a fiery mix of regret and passion. She felt her
world tilt off balance, but she wouldn't be swayed by good looks and charm. Not
now. Hands on her hips, she stood as tall as her small frame would allow.

"By opening your mouth and telling me," she argued. "I may not be a genius like
Brier, or as dazzling as Carolina, but I'm pretty sure I can take the truth about
my mum without fainting or blubbering like a whale. I mean, is that what you think
of me? Some weak, little scraggly girl whose only use is for this blasted mission
of yours? Is that why you didn't . . . back on Gertrude when you almost . . ." Rage
and mortification melted her words. "Tell me, Takashi, do I repulse you so much
that you--"

"It's not that," he cut her off. Closing the space between them in two strides, he
cupped her face in his hands. "It was never that." Before she could react, blink,
or even breathe, he tilted her chin to him and pressed his lips on hers.

Her body tensed in shock and bewilderment. It was as though a fleet of butterflies
swarmed about in her gut, around her heart, and danced in her toes. A beautiful
taste of ginger and some other spice she couldn't place tickled her tongue. The
pressure of his kiss was strong at first, but soon softened, causing her eyes to
close on their own. Then he pulled away. Their skin separated ever so slightly.

Breathing heavy, she stood in the darkness of her shut eyes as cold swirled over
the lingering warmth of his kiss. When she finally found the courage to open her
lids, there he was, inches from her face with his thumb caressing her cheek.

"You have to know," he said, breathless. "I always meant to tell you. I--"

"Should I come back later?" Brier's voice sent a start through her muscles, and
Takashi shot back.

"No, I uh-um," Harlow stuttered. She felt her whole face burn into the color of her
hair. Both Brier and Takashi smiled at her for completely different reasons.

"Well then," Brier continued, edging through her and Takashi to open the wrought
iron gate. "I'm not sure what you two are doing outside in this weather, but I, for
one, am going inside where it's warm." She turned around and winked. "Care to join
me, you two?"

Completely embarrassed, Harlow turned to follow when Takashi grabbed her arm.
"Wait, there's one more thing I have to tell you. And I can't in front of your
father."

My father? Harlow eyed him in confusion. "Um, it's okay, Father's in York and won't
be back for some time. But what is it?"

Takashi took a deep breath. "Clara-san doesn't live in Japan because she wants to.
She was forced to leave you and her life here by a Magnitude's council vote. A vote
your father took part in."

Harlow and Brier looked at each other in disbelief. "He voted no, right?" Harlow
asked.

He closed his eyes, as if preparing himself for the answer. "The vote was
unanimous."

Her stomach turned. "What?"

It's not true. It can't be true.

Suddenly, the door behind them flew open. Startled, the two girls spun to see
Father standing in the doorway. Disheveled, his normally perfect, chestnut hair
flew all over the place, revealing streaks of silver. Without a coat on and his
torn clothes looking like he'd been in a brawl, puffs of white escaped his dropped
mouth. His eyes widened at the sight of them. With his metal arm restrained and
shackled behind his back, he emerged in the clutches of two Magnitude Enforcers.

"Girls, what are you doing home?" he gasped.

Struggling to make sense of things, Harlow blurted out a response. "School let out
early. We thought you were in York." The Enforcers, in their button down, navy
uniforms, set their jaws and gave her an agitated glare. "Father, what's going on?"

"Brier Anne," Father barked, avoiding her question.

"Yes, sir?"

"Ears," he demanded, extremely cryptic.

"What? Now?" she asked, as if she knew what he meant.

Harlow's brows lowered, and she looked back and forth between the two of them. What
are they talking about? Has everyone gone mad?

"Yes, girl, now."

"Oh no." Brier put her hands over her ears and quickly backed away. "Harlow,
Takashi, do as I do. Hurry."

Without questioning, Harlow followed her with Takashi close behind.

"What are you up to Morgan," one of the guards sneered. "You better not be trying
anything."

"I'm sorry Morris. I truly am," Father apologized.

With her hands on her ears, Brier elbowed Harlow in the side. "Har!"

Oh right. Harlow covered her ears just as a small circular device sprung from the
shoulder of her Father's metal arm. The dish like gadget made a terrible ear
piercing screech that Harlow could imagine sounded way worse without covered ears.
Screaming in pain, the two guards collapsed to the ground.

Still shackled, Father ran to them. "This way. We don't have much time before they
recover." He led them around the house at a breath stealing pace.

Brier bumped into him when he stopped abruptly by an oak tree. "Father, let's go.
We can't stay here. They'll catch you for sure."

"They're going to catch me no matter what, Brier Anne. You only saw the two. Others
are on their way. Harlow?" he asked, turning to her.

"Yes, sir?"

He took her by the shoulders and set his most serious gaze on her. "Listen to me
very carefully. I need you to go to your room through the back door and get your
cuckoo clock."

His command sent a chill down her spine. "Father, I-"

"Take it to the lower west quadrant and find the Tanner building."

"The Tanner building? But Father-"

"You'll meet a man there by the name of Jacques Fontaine."

"Father, it's broken!" She didn't mean to shout, but he left her no choice.

Bafflement wrinkled his features. "Broken?"

Her vision swam in tears. He had shared with her sister exclusive knowledge of his
sound device, and all she was going to get was yelled at. "I-I'm sorry. I broke it
a few weeks ago, and-"

"It's all right, my sweet," he cooed, pulling her into an embrace and stroking her
hair. Seconds later, he gently pulled her away. "Tell me what you did with the
box."

Her eyebrows furrowed, unsure she heard him right.

"Wait," said Takashi, voicing her thoughts, "you know about the box?"

"Yes," Father nodded, all matter of fact. "Where is it."

Harlow bit her lip then pulled up on the sleeve of her jacket. Takashi shook his
head and tugged down on his scarf.

"Cor Blimey! You've opened two of them? And the third?"

"It's on Carolina," Harlow replied then tensed from the lecture she was sure he was
about to unleash.

Instead, he leaned back and groaned. "Then it has already begun. Harlow, I cannot
protect you any longer. Go to the Tanner building. Find Fontaine. Show him your
arms, and only him. If you can, bring your friend here and Carolina with you."

"But father, what about you?"

"Morgan!" Recovered from their attack, the Enforcers barreled around the corner of
the house.

"Don't concern yourselves with me." He stepped back. Using the strength of his arm,
he broke free of his useless shackles. "I'll hold them off as long as I can. Now
that you're marked they will come for you too. Run fast. Don't come back. This is
no longer your home. And girls. I love you both."

With that he charged his attackers.

Harlow stood frozen in utter shock.

"Harlow, let's go." Takashi tugged at her arm.

Stumbling a bit, she turned and followed. With Brier leading the way, they ran
through the back streets until they nearly collided with a green steam-powered
carriage. Harlow's heart raced. She expected her father's enemies to emerge-to haul
them away. But then the door opened, and out popped Mouse.

"Hurry, get in," he cried, waving his arm.

Her body relaxed, and she climbed in the carriage. They sped off leaving her home
and pursuers behind.

"I'm glad we found you," said Mr. Whittle in the driver's seat. "I was afraid we'd
be too late."

"How'd you know we were in trouble?" Brier asked as they sat.

"It was the light." Carolina said from the back seat next to Felix. "I don't know
how, but I knew something was wrong. Almost like I could see it. Merriwether's
house isn't too far from mine and well, here we are. Har, are you all right?"

Harlow's face must've shown the calamity inside. "No. I don't know what's going on,
and my father says we can never return home. They took him. Just took him, like he
was a criminal." Her body shook and she clenched her fists, holding off the tears.

Takashi slid his arm around her without saying a word, and Brier looked at her with
as much worry as she felt in her bones.

"Do you think we'll ever see him again?" Brier whispered.

Harlow looked out the window as her home disappearing in the distance and swallowed
up by buildings and streets she'd traveled thousands of times. She etched every
second of its passing in her memory, as if its very existence died by the second.
Turning away from the painful sight, she met her sister's eyes and said the only
thing she could.

"We will. I promise you that."

(To be Continued)

Well, faithful reader, we've reached the end of book one. Thank you so much for
following along with Harlow and her crazy journey. If you like what you've read,
please remember to click the star.

What was your favorite part in book one? Let's talk about it in the comments.

The journey doesn't stop here! Check my profile, or follow the link below to read
The Inventor's Heir, the sequel to A City in the Air.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/95008185-the-inventor%27s-heir-a-steampunk-adventure-
novel

-Lyndsey

I thought it'd be fun to explore the character names. Why they were chosen and what
each of them mean. As a writer, naming characters is one of my favorite parts of
the process.

I'll also be giving the pronunciation of each name, because I know how frustrating
it can be to read a story and not know how to pronounce the characters' names. Now,
I know there are multiple meanings for these names, but below are the ones I found
that seemed most accurate to me.

*******

Harlow (HAR-loh) - Troops on a Hill, or army on a hill

I chose this name mainly for the way it sounds, but I think this name is pretty
fitting for our heroine. She is growing more and more into the leader of her group
of friends. And being high up on a hill, well, that reminds me of Harlow for sure.

Takashi (tah-kah-shee) - filial piety, noble, prosperous, or reverence

I can't think of a better meaning for Takashi. He may be an orphan in a new land,
but he's got this straight laced way about him. He's an upright noble guy on a
noble mission.

Brier (bri-er) - a wild rose with small, prickly thorns

Okay, so that pronunciation is pretty redundant, but I guess her name is easy to
pronounce. Brier was a name I chose specifically because of the meaning. She
represents Harlow's thorn in her side. A thorn that drives Harlow crazy, but also
keeps her humble.

Felix (FEE-liks) - lucky, favored by luck, or the lucky one

I have no idea why I like this meaning for ol' Felix, but I think it suits him.
He's the guy with all the information, and he seems to be very lucky in that
respect.

Carolina (Caro-LINE-a) - free woman, or beautiful woman

So the second meaning is pretty obvious for Carolina, but I thought the first
meaning is rather ironic. I suppose, though, she's free to make bad decisions.

Meriwether (meh-re-weh-ther) - one with a sunny disposition

Mouse doesn't have much of a sunny disposition in the first half of the book, but
that's understandable, I think. He's had a pretty rough go of things. But I think
he's pretty optimistic, considering.

Mortimer (m-AW-r-ti-mer) - a dead sea, or a stagnant lake

Oh man, that's rough, but fairly fitting of our antagonist. Gotta say, I laughed a
little when I saw that meaning.

Josephine (JOH-seh-feen) - God will add, or increase

I really love the meaning for Josephine in general, but not for the Josephine of
book 1. We'll see how things pan out for her later on . . .

Yumi (yoo-mee) - beautiful bow

I named Yumi Himura completely after my cousin. She is a very beautiful woman and
so is the Yumi of our story, so I think the meaning is perfect in both respects.
Koji (KOW-JH-iy) - little one, child

Yeah, that's fitting of Koji. He's the youngest of the Japanese group, and a little
immature in book 1. But he's got a lot of room to grow.

Miki (mee-kee) - beautiful story

With Miki's imagination and matchmaking skills, beautiful story is SO her. ;)

Oliver (AHL-a-ver) - olive tree, or elf army

Elf army! Ha! Just picture it - Mr Whittle, running around with his elf army.

Percival (PAHR-Sih-Vahl) - one who pierces the valley, or hard steel

I love the second meaning of that name. Harlow and Brier's father is so strict and
steel like.

What do you think of these name meanings? Do you think they fit the characters of A
City in the Air?

And what about you? What does your name mean? Do you think it fits you, or are you
more like Mr. Whittle, with your own little elf army? Let's talk in the comments.

Harlow Morgan

Takashi Satō

Brier Anne Morgan

Carolina Goodwin

Felix Goodwin

Meriwether (Mouse) Sutton

Mr. Whittle
Yumi Himura

Mortimer Charleston

Percival Morgan

Koji

Miki

Norton

****

The Smokestack at night

The Featherington Hedge Maze

Harlow's Hover-Cycle

The Red Dragon of Harlow's dreams

A Featherington Classrooms

Minature Sparrow

Upper Portsmouth's Docking Station

Inside Upper Portsmouth

Below is a rough draft excerpt from book two of the Chronicles of Light series, the
Inventor's Heir. Again, this is a rough draft and subject to change. I don't want
to share too much right now, because I'm still in the process of writing this
novel. Thank you everyone who read A City in the Air. I will keep you updated of
book two's progress.

***

Every solitary ounce of Harlow's body reeled in pain. Sweat poured into her eyes,
blurring her vision. Her knees buckled and she collapsed onto the rocky ground.
Each breath pained her collapsing lungs. Her sides felt like a twisting dish rag,
stretched and pulled over and over again. Beating faster than ever, her heart
pounded against her ribs, ready to explode.

And to think, people do this for fun?

"Har! Are you alright?!"

Harlow groaned. In a few minutes, her sister would reach her and the agony would
begin again. Lying on her gravel death bed, she decided the term sister was far too
kind a word for Brier and should come up with something more suitable.

Tyrant. Oppressor. Evil overlord of all cruelty and torment.

Harlow smiled. The last one was a mouthful, but she liked it the best.

Pushing her to the brink and far beyond that, Brier cared for nothing but results.
Harlow's breaking point happened three miles back. She was ready to give in then,
but Brier wouldn't let her. Her sister's persistent "don't stop now!" and "you can
do it!" chants drove her mad.

She knows my limits. Hope she feels dreadful now that I've collapsed from sheer
exhaustion. Not to mention the fact Brier looked jolly well pleased throughout the
ordeal.

Yes, evil overlord is most fitting.

"Har, what happened?" Finally reaching the spot where she fell, Brier bent down and
looked her over, her chocolate curls cascading over her shoulders. "You were doing
so well. Did you trip over something?" she asked, stretching her hand down to offer
aid.

Harlow took it, aching as she returned upright. "No, but if tripping means I get an
early break, then I saw a log back there with my left foot's name on it."

In the few days since the break in, Brier's exercise routine had grown in length
and intensity. She'd managed to pry loose the bit about the officials chasing
Harlow down, and insisted the near escape would've been no trouble at all if Harlow
had better endurance.

Rubbish. All this exercise is doing is increasing my bumps, bruises, scrapes, and
foul mood.

"How are your arms?" evil overlord asked, ignoring Harlow's comment. She took hold
of Harlow's forearm and touched the laces binding the leather working guard that
covered her from wrist to elbow. "May I?"

Harlow nodded. "They're fine. My legs have turned to mush though. Examine those
next please, doctor?" she teased.

Brier rolled her eyes and continued to unbind the lacing. When she pulled off the
guard, a sapphire glow emanated from the foreign words etched across the back of
Harlow's arm. They'd burned bright in the past, blindingly so, but not today. Today
they flickered softly in the morning light.

Like any Smith, unable to let a test subject go without proper picking and probing,
Brier brought the multi-lensed goggles she'd had strapped over her head to her nose
and poked Harlow's skin with her index finger. When the words did nothing but
flicker a bit, she pulled out a writing pad from her trousers' pocket and scribbled
away. "They don't seem to respond to physical exertion," she muttered, more to
herself than anyone, "but you've used their power in stressful situations. So
perhaps they alter due to a chemical reaction with adrenaline or somehow sense
elevated blood pressure..."

Her words trailed off, and Harlow re-laced the guard. "Or maybe they do whatever
they want, whenever they want."

In the past few months, Brier had been set on helping Harlow control the power
behind the light across her skin. But not since the time she'd unleashed the notes
from a box hidden within her cuckoo clock to the battle against the Magics had she
been able to do what she could last fall. Unexplainable strength, the ability to
incapacitate and displace her enemies, and a rock-hard shield made from golden
light. Every power refused to work on command, no matter Brier's aid.

She'd told Brier about the lamb in her dreams that came along with the notes of
light, how he'd helped her when she'd needed him, even manifested in reality once
to save her life. But Brier had brushed it off. Said she only wanted to look at
things scientifically. Which made no sense. How can you investigate something
scientifically by ignoring that something's source?

When Brier remained silent, Harlow poked her shoulder. "Bet you'll have better luck
on Carolina."

Brier choked out a laugh. "Oh right, because she's going to let me run tests on
her. That girl could have answers to everything shining on her back, but I'll never
know. You think we'd see more of her, this being her house and all."

Harlow squinted down the tree lined path at the red bricked cottage. The second
story's top window, which was nearly always closed, sat wide open with Carolina
hanging half way out. "Oh look there she is," Harlow said, pointing at their
childhood friend. The wind whirled Carolina's chin-length blonde locks for a short
second before she disappeared back inside. "Never mind. Gone again."

Brier was right. Carolina had become a recluse. Locking herself in that room for
weeks couldn't be good on her. And for what? She didn't like how the light on her
back and shoulders had sliced off her hair when it marked her? If anything, the new
look made her more gorgeous than ever. How she wished Carolina knew that. Maybe
then she'd get her friend back.

"Well, why don't you make Takashi your lab rat then? Oh wait, you can't. He's not
here." Though she said the comment in jest, Harlow regretted her words the instant
they left her mouth. A pang of hurt burst in her chest at the mention of the boy
marked with light across his neck. The last of the three hosts. Her lips tingled
where he'd kissed her with fire and passion. A kiss that kept her up at night and
flushed her cheeks in the day. Part of her was glad he wasn't around to see her
reaction to him. The other part filled her with fury at his absence.

"I miss them too, you know," Brier nudged her. Her eyes twinkled with a silly
expression of half sympathy half giddiness to talk about boys. "I'm sure Felix and
the others won't be gone much longer. Takashi's a bright fellow. He'll pick up
whatever those elders of Mr. Goodwin's want him to learn in no time. You'll get to
see him soon. I know it." Harlow stood to trudge down the path to the cottage and
away from where this conversation was heading. "Wait, where are you going?"

"To take a nap. I've had all I can take for one day."

"Alright," called Brier after her, "One day you'll want to talk to me about your
boyfriend, and I'll be ready." Her words bounced over the giggle in her voice.

Harlow suddenly felt the strength to walk much faster.

****
So what do you guys think? What would you like to see in book two?

So here it is. I'll be releasing the sequel to A City in the Air here on Wattpad as
a draft. (This means the book will be subject to edits and heavy revisions.) Since
I'm still in the process of writing it, and we have this super sweet Wattpad
format, I'd love to know what you'd like to see in book two. I can't guarantee
every suggestion will make it into the novel, but that doesn't mean some
suggestions won't.

Without further adieu, I bring you the cover for The Inventor's Heir:

So what do you think? I had loads of fun making it. Again, let me know what you
want to see in book two. I'm pretty stoked for this book, and I hope you are too!

Love you all!

-Lyndsey

(Please read below for the giveaway.)

A City in the Air Fan Art

If you'd like me to feature your art, please send me a message with a link to your
work.

By EmanAlAdl

HAND PAINTED SHOE GIVEAWAY!

Per multiple requests, I'm hosting another hand-painted shoe giveaway here on
Wattpad.
The Rules are a little different than last time so please read carefully:
Tag a person here on Wattpad who you think would be interested in either Harlow's
story or the giveaway, and get one entry.
You may tag up to 10 DIFFERENT people for a total of 10 entries.
Anyone who sends me A City in the Air fan-art that I can post here will receive,
not only a profile link here, but 20 additional entries.
The giveaway entry period will run from today, 6/30/17, to my twin's birthday,
8/20/17.
The winner will receive one pair of custom painted shoes, designed and painted by
me. (I reserve the right to approve design concepts before I start painting.)
Below are some samples of my previous shoes: