Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [9]
“I killed him. I dropped him from my airship into a pack of flesh-eating zombies.”
The other woman had nothing to say to that. She stared at Yasmeen, her fingers twisting in the handkerchief.
“He tried to take control of my ship. You understand.” Yasmeen flopped onto a sofa and hooked her leg over the arm. Zenobia’s face reddened and she averted her gaze. Not accustomed to seeing a woman in trousers, apparently. “He hasn’t come around for a visit, has he?”
“A visit?” Her head came back around, eyes wide. “But—”
“I tossed him into a canal. Venice is still full of them, did you know?”
Zenobia shook her head.
“Well, some are more swamp than canal, but they are still there—and zombies don’t go into the water. We both know that Archimedes has escaped more dire situations than that, at least according to his adventures. You’ve read your brother’s stories, Miss Fox, haven’t you?”
“Of . . . course.”
“He mentions the canals in Archimedes Fox and the Mermaid of Venice.”
“Oh, yes. I’d forgotten.”
There was no Mermaid of Venice adventure, yet the woman who’d supposedly written it didn’t even realize she’d been caught in her lie. Pitiful.
But the question remained: Did that mean Zenobia wasn’t the author after all, or was this not Zenobia? Yasmeen suspected the latter.
“So he might be alive?” Zenobia ventured.
“He still had most of his equipment and weapons. But if he hasn’t contacted you after two months now . . . he must be dead, I’m sorry to say.” Yasmeen meant it, but she wasn’t sorry for the next. “And so he is the second man in your family I’ve killed.”
Surprise and dismay flashed across her expression. “Yes, of course. My . . .”
She trailed off into a sob. Oh, that was good cover.
“Father.” Yasmeen helped her along.
“Yes, my father. After he . . . did something terrible, too.”
That was good, too. Smart not to suggest that the armed woman sitting in the room had been at fault.
Obviously this woman had no idea who she’d targeted by taking Zenobia Fox’s place. If asked, she’d probably say that her father’s surname had been Fox, as well. She wouldn’t know that Emmerich Gunther-Baptiste had once tried to roast a mutineer alive. Yasmeen hadn’t had any love for the mutineer—but she’d shot him in the head anyway, to put him out of his misery. She’d shot Gunther-Baptiste when he’d ordered the other mercenaries to put her on the roasting spit in the mutineer’s place. When Yasmeen realized that she’d attained a beauty of an airship in the process, she’d shot every other crew member who tried to take it from her.
After a while, they’d stopped trying and began taking orders, instead.
“Did he do something terrible? I’ve killed so many people, I forget what my reasons were.” A lie, but Yasmeen wasn’t the only one telling them. Now it was time to find out this woman’s reasons. With a belabored sigh, she climbed to her feet. “That’s all I’ve come to say. A few of Archimedes’ belongings are still in my ship. Would you like to have them, or should I distribute them among my crew?”
“Oh, yes. That’s fine.” For a moment, the blond seemed distracted and uncertain. Then her shoulders squared, and she said, “My brother hired you to take him to Venice, and was searching for a specific item. Did he find it . . . before he died?”
Ah, so that’s what it was. Yasmeen had spoken to three art dealers about locating a buyer for the sketch Archimedes Fox had found in Venice. A flying machine drawn by the great inventor Leonardo da Vinci, the sketch was valuable beyond measure.
She’d demanded that the dealers be discreet in their inquiries. Not even Yasmeen’s crew knew what she’d locked away in her cabin. But obviously, someone had talked.
“It was a fake,” Yasmeen lied.
No uncertainty weakened Zenobia’s expression now. “I’d still like to have it. As a memento.”
Yasmeen nodded. “If you’ll show me out, I’ll retrieve it for you now.” She followed the woman from the parlor and into the hallway. “Will you hold the rope ladder for me? It’s so unsteady.”
“Of course.” All smiles, Zenobia reached the front door.
Yasmeen didn