Lairs, Caves, & Credenzas Read online

  Shadow Phoenix

  Episode V: Lairs, Caves, & Credenzas

  MJ Moores

  Shadow Phoenix Volume 1, Episode 5: Lairs, Caves, & Credenzas

  Copyright © Melissa J. Moores, 2019

  Published by Infinite Pathways Press 2019

  P.O. Box 4, Caledon Village, ON Canada L7K 3L3

  eISBN 978-1-988044-17-0

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilisation of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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  TABLE of CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Blurb

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1 ~ Wash, Rinse, Repeat …

  Chapter 2 ~ Big Mouth Syndrome

  Chapter 3 ~ Out of the Frying Pan

  Chapter 4 ~ Insert Foot into Mouth

  Chapter 5 ~ Going Out on a Limb

  Chapter 6 ~ Performance Issues

  Chapter 7 ~ Lightning & Thunder

  Chapter 8 ~ In the News

  Books

  Shadow Phoenix Volume 1

  Episode V

  Lairs, Caves, & Credenzas

  Being a City Guardian deals more with mud, dirt, blood, and fire than Louisa ever imagined. The tiaras and good manners her mother envisioned for her didn’t come with this job or Louisa’s assistant’s position either. Although, she just might get to meet the Queen if she keeps her nose clean.

  During a routine stop at her frenemy’s lair, Louisa is caught between two sides of a small credenza, with claustrophobia issues and manure on her boots. The Judge comes to call demanding a new weapon, sparking his engineering princess’s dark side.

  Time is fleeting as Louisa hunts to discover where the next crime will take place, without revealing her identity to the one man who’s sworn to help her. But time isn’t the only thing on the run when the constabulary catch her in the act…

  A New Steampunk Serial

  This is the fifth installment of eight short-story-length episodes that link together to form a complete novel or volume. As Charles Dickens once wrote in batches of chapters for the local paper, this story will be revealed similarly via electronic episodes.

  Each “short read” is intended to have both a general conclusion to the immediate story line, and a through-story that links to a larger, over-arching, plot.

  It is my hope that readers who prefer shorter pieces, or who only have a limited time to read, will feel satisfied with each separate episode while looking forward to the next installment.

  Happy reading.

  Sincerely,

  MJ Moores

  SHADOW PHOENIX

  Vol. 1

  EPISODE V

  Lairs, Caves, & Credenzas

  Wash, Rinse, Repeat …

  T he crisp night air flowed white from Louisa’s lips with every exhale. A breeze tossed her long, thick curls about as she set her sights on the first target undulating in the wan moonlight.

  “An’ go,” Joe rasped from his vantage point behind her.

  She raised the Phoenix, a modified blunderbuss courtesy of Ryn, the princess-engineer. Aligning her gaze along the flared barrel, Louisa squeezed the trigger. The mini musket recoiled belching smoke and flame from the muzzle. A dull ping announced “target hit.” Her heart no longer fluttered at the sound. She always hit that one.

  Louisa sprinted across the field, dove behind a bush housing a three-tiered equestrian jump, turned, and shot at the next tin can mounted on a stake in the water hazard. She didn’t wait for confirmation, just tumbled into a side-roll. Dampness from the grass clung to her training uniform—the Shadow Phoenix attire minus the dress and long coat.

  She jumped to her feet, twirled, and shot at the next target from memory. Clouds blocked the faint sliver of new moon above, and mist shrouded the already darkened course. Dim orbs of lantern light glowed near the barns and the road. Cold sweat dewing her brow, she dodged invisible scorches of flame and claw-like daggers as Louisa moved around the training field. She addressed each shadow within an instant and reacted appropriately, either shooting or holding back as the situation demanded. Louisa loaded and reloaded her dragon-like pistol with the wax balls Ryn had given her for target practice.

  Joe worked with her all night on building a rhythm, learning the feel of the gun and its peculiarities. The most important lesson remained loading on the move—well, that and hitting her target.

  Louisa fired the last shot and collapsed to her knees. The pistol radiated heat, sending trails of smoke into the early October night. She wasn’t out of breath, just finally able to breathe deeply. Short controlled breaths became Joe’s mantra during exercises; she always thought it was to keep her from holding her breath and passing out, but now it dawned on her that her muscles were less tired and she could do longer training stints.

  “Not bad, but not great,” Joe said materializing from the dark to stand beside her. He leaned heavily on his walking stick, acquired from somewhere on the grounds.

  “How many did I hit?” she asked.

  “More ’n ya missed. Go again.”

  Louisa stood and removed two slugs from the leather work pouch strapped to her hips. “This is it. I’m out of ammo.”

  “Then let’s not waste ’em. Run it backward. Target numbah seven an’ four.” After training together for nearly three weeks, his southern drawl no longer confused her—the rolling Rs and soft pronunciation helped focus her intent.

  She nodded and moved into position. Her chest ached. She swallowed hard, pushing down the worry that she’d never get this. Taking aim while standing still was hard enough, but moving and landing her mark was nigh on impossible. Joe never told her exactly how many hits she made. At least the last two runs had been more ’n she missed. Still, that didn’t bode well, and now she was out of wax bearings.

  Louisa couldn’t visit Ryn tonight to request more; it was too late. Besides, she’d promised to bring supplies next time. Ryn’s father had been asking questions. The last thing either woman needed was to get caught working together.

  She inhaled deeply, raised her gun, and sighted the first target. Her arms shaking, her muscles burning, she mentally prepared herself to take the course in reverse.

  “An’ go.”

  Sweat soaked into her leather mask. With no “ping” to even remotely hint at her progress, Louisa reversed through the track, firing the bearings at target seven and four. But even then, she heard nothing. Her ire grew. They’d been at this for nearly two hours. I’m the worst shot in the world.

  Rolling out of a forward tumble and pretending to fire at the last target, Louisa growled at the unhelpful silence. She snatched a lightning orb from her pouch and threw it into the black void. A tinny crack and an explosion of electricity lit the field.

  “Guess ya knew where dat one waz,” Joe drawled.

  Louisa chucked the pistol to the ground. “It’s useless. I’ve plateaued. I’m not getting any better.” She pulled her hair at her temples.

  “You jus’ need time. Each gun’s peculiar. Each person, too. Collect yah weapon an’ take flight for the night.”

  Yeah, she needed to blow off steam. Louisa shoved the pistol into the clip holster attached to her
leather belt. It smoked at her side as she headed out into the night on patrol.

  Big Mouth Syndrome

  L ouisa tallied the last figure before double-checking her calculations. Escaped tendrils of hair curled across her forehead and down either side of her face. Her once strict bun slumped against the nape of her neck, and it wasn’t even noon yet. Her back spasmed. She placed her pencil along the inner spine of the ledger and sat up straight on the stool next to Bennett’s expansive desk.

  She rotated sore joints and flexed achy muscles, hands clasped before her, hoping Bennett didn’t look up. He sat hunched over flight plans and official documents. An unfinished list of invites grew ever longer. It migrated across his desk every hour or so when he made changes, put it away, then drew it out again to add other names. His brow furrowed each time he scribbled more words on the page.

  Louisa reached for her teacup, which rested on one of the only empty spaces on the desk. It clattered as her hand shook, the fatigue of last night’s training betraying her. Bennett sat up and tossed his pen onto the page; ink from the nub pooled slightly, but he ignored it and reached for his own tea. They sipped together. He spat his back into the cup and made a face.

  “Blech, cold tea.”

  Louisa swallowed. She didn’t mind, but he was right: ginger root, nettle, and raspberry tasted better warm. Louisa smiled, her lips still on the edge of the china cup. Isabel, the cook, had taken one look at Louisa this morning and clucked her tongue. The matronly servant knew Louisa “hadn’t been sleeping well” these days. The tea helped combat fatigue, but she was certain Bennett grew tired of the flavor. Still, he never asked Isabel to change it.

  “I say, this is impossible. How are you making out, Lou?”

  Her insides warmed even as she swallowed another mouthful of cold tea. Heat flushed up the sides of her neck to her cheeks. She still wasn’t used to the way he casually tossed about her first name. She set her cup aside and turned the ledger to face him.

  “I believe, in order to cover the largest area with the fewest airships, your budget will allow for six Minis to be airborne for thirty minutes. Each ship would require four batches of two hundred orbs with a crew of three.”

  “So, we’d need eight hundred … times six … Forty-eight hundred dispersal orbs.” He blanched and met her gaze.

  Tension squeezed her chest. Her calculations were correct, but something wasn’t right.

  “And we’ll have enough money in the budget for that many orbs?” he asked.

  “Yes, but we won’t be able to hire anyone to help. I’d have to enlist the resources you already have and spend the next two-and-a-half weeks strictly making orbs.”

  “Wouldn’t an assembly line be more efficient?” He leaned forward, abandoning his tea to search through the papers before him.

  “Certainly, but if we do that, we’ll need to transfer nearly half the funds from the Mini fleet to production costs. The demonstration might suffer.”

  He sighed and ran his hand over his dark hair. The rumpled look brought out his boyish charm. Her heart gave a little leap.

  “Right, can’t have that with the Queen attending. I’m certain she’ll be there. What would you need? It isn’t fair to ask you to come in early and stay late for fourteen days.”

  “Sixteen.”

  “No, fourteen. I won’t ask you to come in on your days off. And really, we can’t count tomorrow as a full day since you’ll need time to train the staff and run errands. Realistically, I think we have ten days.”

  “I’ll need three skilled helpers, and it’ll take time for anyone to become proficient. Then, we’ll need the space to work. One table is sufficient for one worker, maybe two.”

  He waved off her concern. “I can make that happen. Who from the staff would work well?” He met her gaze.

  Louisa swallowed. As much as she’d love to steal just Isabel, Maria, and Henry away from their jobs, Bennett needed them to keep his household running.

  “All of them,” she whispered, unsure of her place in making the request.

  “All? Even Courtright?”

  Louisa nodded. “I can’t take three people away from their duties for two whole weeks. Everyone would have to help in shifts. Even then, there’s no guarantee one or more of them won’t, um … find the task as challenging as you do.”

  A darkness altered Bennett’s features as the weight of her words sank in. Even with all the money his backers had provided after the second cloud-seeding test, the financial burden of a breakthrough weighed down the scales.

  He blinked rapidly and frowned in concentration. Louisa leaned forward, arms on the desk, ready to grasp his hands—wanting to alleviate his burden. She stopped short and instead turned the notes he’d been working on to face her. She peered down at the missive to give him time to grapple with the situation without her staring. His bold cursive flowed across the page:

  Dear Majesty, (oh no…)

  You are invited (is he serious?) to the presentation and demonstration of my (really?) cloud-seeding project to the Society of Engineers on Saturday, November 4, 1876, at the Sky Port at four o’clock. Tea and refreshments to follow (no, he can’t be serious).

  Please RSVP the Bennett Estate no later than the Wednesday prior (you have got to be kidding me).

  Your servant (gracious, no),

  Louisa tried not to shudder. Oh, dear … No wonder Bennett kept scratching out phrases and words—he couldn’t address the Queen like that. Without asking, Louisa hunched over the page and re-wrote the royal invitation as proper etiquette dictated, the way her mother had taught her.

  Bennett hunched over Louisa’s figures doing his darndest to force the numbers to favor him. Their foreheads nearly touched as they worked. Bennett occasionally mumbled, querying about time-frames and resources. Louisa responded in kind and muttered aloud phrases for the invitation—most of which were met with positive grunts.

  The air in the room vibrated with a comfortable, collaborative aura. Louisa ignored the rumbles of her constitution and paid no mind to Bennett’s either.

  A stern throat-clearing jolted both of them upright. “Ahum—”

  Louisa’s pulse skittered, her cheeks flushing. She looked over her shoulder. Courtright filled the doorway with her imposing frame and stern glare.

  “Lunch is served and your guests await.” She didn’t leave, as most servants might. Instead, she narrowed her eyes at Louisa, whose insides curled and shrank.

  What did I do? I never touched him. We were just working. I—

  “Yes, thank you, Missus Courtright. We’ll be down presently.”

  But the head housekeeper didn’t take the hint. She remained perfectly still, her arms crossed, as Louisa and Bennett organized the desk before walking to the door. Courtright stepped aside to let them pass, Bennett first, and followed closely on Louisa’s heels.

  Down on the main floor, Louisa made to turn toward the hall leading to the kitchen. Courtright’s towering presence invaded her personal space as Bennett grabbed Louisa’s elbow and steered her into the parlor instead.

  “No, you don’t, Lou. This is a business lunch. That includes you.”

  Angry heat radiated off the housekeeper as she strode past. Now her hostility made sense. So much for Louisa’s peace offering after her train excursion last week. Eating with guests just elevated Louisa’s standing another notch. Bennett had done the unfathomable … he’d made a servant his equal.

  But Louisa had earned her position as his assistant. She knew in her bones this was what she was meant to do—to be. She turned into the parlor and nearly froze. The enchanting Elenore Rathburn sat on the settee, chiffon skirts primped wide, and a delicate smile to match.

  “Elenore, Reginald, sorry to keep you waiting.” Bennett nearly launched himself into the room, taking Miss. Rathburn’s hand and kissing her knuckles. He vigorously shook hands with her brother.

  Louisa entered; had she been wearing a dress, she’d have curtsied. As it was, she wiped sweaty
palms on her slacks and gave a polite nod to both guests before sitting beside Bennett—leaving as much room between them on the small sofa as possible. The tiered service cart sat heavy with tea, finger sandwiches, fruit, and cakes. Bennett passed around small plates and inclined his head toward Louisa. Immediately, she picked up the teapot.

  “Would you like some tea, Miss. Rathburn?”

  “Please, I told you to call me Elly.” She held out her cup atop her saucer.

  Louisa did the same for Rathburn, then Bennett and herself. Before sitting, she chose a triangle of cucumber sandwich and a small bunch of grapes, mirroring Elenore’s selections.

  “Come now, Lou. Have some more. I know you’re just as famished as I am.” Bennett turned to the siblings. “We worked through tea this morning, and I heard her stomach rumble just as sure as I did mine.” He winked, reached over, and plunked an egg salad triangle with a sliver of melon on Louisa’s plate. Bennett and Reginald chuckled. Elenore smiled, her eyes kind. Louisa was starving, but Bennett’s informality rattled her. He knew as well as she did that it wasn’t polite to pile food on one’s plate. She sat back, blushing.

  “I’m so glad you could stop by today. Lou and I have been working on—” Louisa kicked his foot but jostled the occasional table nearly spilling the tea. Bennett glanced at her mid-sentence. Louisa narrowed her eyes at him, her heart hammering at the bold move, so like her mother.

  “What Mr. Bennett means is that it’s wonderful to see you up and about again, Mr. Rathburn. Have the constabulary discovered anything related to the”—she didn’t want to be uncivilized and say poisoning outright—“unfortunate incident last Friday at the races?”

  Bennett’s cheeks pinkened as he nodded, biting into a sandwich square to hide his embarrassment. He was like a schoolboy—so excited he lost his manners.