Lady Pirate

Chapter 1: Lady Luck

"I'm not easy to kill, as you well know." The first time she'd met him, he'd tried to put a bullet through her. She'd melted his gun—and most of his right hand—before he'd had the chance. After he'd recovered some months later, he'd asked her for a job, bringing the head of the man who'd hired him to off her. Deep down, Mad had a soft heart, and she felt bad about his ruined hand. She'd offered to take him to a Body Mechanic, who could build him a new one made of aether-wrought metal, but he'd refused. Angus was from Fife, where the last witch trial had seen a mage burned at the stake less than fifty years ago. Magic made him uncomfortable. Instead, he wore a prosthetic that relied on gears and springs. He was still a damned good Enforcer, overseeing the security of The Siren with a literal iron fist.

"How did this happen?" she asked him.

"I-I-I do not know," Angus stuttered, pronouncing the words like a proper Scotsman. I doona noo. "Me 'n Wolfe were guarding the gangways, and we didn't see anything."

"Who was watching the wings?"

Angus' ruddy face flushed redder. " 'Twas supposed to be Smith and Luther."

"Supposed to be?"

He seemed to struggle with the answer. "Smith's been missing since this morning. I went to look for him as soon as I discovered he wasn't at his post. Couldn't find him anywhere, so I went to check the hangar. One of the gliders was missing."

Damn it, she'd liked Smith. He was new to The Siren, but seemed a good sort, if a bit overeager. He couldn't be more than twenty, with blond curly hair that made him look rather cherubic. And now she'd have to kill him. "Do you think he was a nose from the start?"

Angus shrugged his big shoulders. "Couldn't say. It's possible he was bribed when we were parked at Saint Tropez."

Mad made a face. "Let's hope it's the former." A spy she could respect, but not a traitor. "Did you see if our captors took anyone else from The Siren?"

Angus broke into a grin. "They got the Terrible Twosome."

Mad chuckled, despite the gravity of their situation and a throbbing headache. "Cheese and crust. Our captors are the ones in need of rescue." The twins were nothing alike: Jasper was a fire mage, with a matching temper, and James had a calm, cool disposition, bordering on cold, much like his ice magic. Instead of clashing, they balanced each other perfectly, their minds working together in devious ways. Nobody, not even Mad, was safe from their pranks.

She sobered quickly. "Did they get any of the others?"

Angus' lips thinned. "They got Lightning. Knew what he was too. Last I saw him he was covered head to toe in mud."

Mad was seldom shocked, but she was shocked now. Mud was one of the few things that could nullify a weather mage—a weakness that wasn't widely known outside the Magicians' Council. She had hoped they were dealing with simple slavers, but this cast serious doubt. "Our captors—did you see them?"

"They knocked me out before I could get a good look at them," he said, sounding disgusted with himself. "Last I remember is a hand covering my face and smelling something sweet—and then nothing till you woke me here."

She wrinkled her nose. "Chloroform." An effective tool for wiping out an entire airship's worth of deadly assassins and powerful mages. Her estimation of their captors grew. The attack on The Siren wasn't an opportunistic coup; it was carefully orchestrated. Which begged the question why. No one knew of the connection between Mad Mo and L'Etoile, apart from Lightning and Silver, her Engineer. She trusted them beyond any shadow of a doubt. The only other person who might be able to connect the dots between L'Etoile, Lady Philippa Strand and Mad Mo was Pippa herself. Her sister would never betray her.