A Dawn Most Wicked

before he left, he paused in the engine room door and offered me his hand. “Please accept my apology for earlier, Mr. Sheridan. I let my temper get the best of me.” He pumped my arm once. “You were only looking out for your friend. Loyalty like that—and a concern for others—is a quality I appreciate. So, if you can move past your frustration with my decision over Captain Cochran, then please know the offer still stands for your license.” He then tipped an invisible hat at me, his goofy grin flashing briefly, and he left.

I watched him go, massaging my still-bruised eye. Sure, I could forgive Lang for firing Cochran—I could even acknowledge it was the best decision for his fleet.

But I couldn’t forgive him for loving Cass. He was a man who could give her everything she wanted— everything her sister wanted too. Even with my engineer’s license and a tidy salary, I could never afford that.

And even with a steady job I could never outrun who I was. If Cochran had caught wind of Clay Wilcox’s reward for my head, then it was only a matter of time before someone else did. That wasn’t fair to Cass. Hell, it wasn’t fair to a man like Lang either. He trusted me more than I deserved and wanted to hire me long-term—not just until my prison sentence caught up.

As I scrubbed at the engine, washing the same brass workings I had washed for the past year, I pretended that it was any other day. That everything had gone according to plan and that Cassidy would be waiting for me when I left the engine room. That we would keep on stealing kisses in the clerk’s office. Keep on braving the river as the fastest engineer and pilot on the Mississippi.

But I knew by the weight dragging at my shoulders. By the burn in my stomach. And by the growing ache in my chest—like I couldn’t get enough air. Like I would never get enough air again. Like the world was falling down around me and all I could do was watch it topple.

I knew that this would be the last time I ever cleaned an engine.

I rubbed at a grease stain—a stubborn spot that had been here since I had come on board—and the black blurred before my eyes.

God, I had been such a fool to think I could escape who I was. To ever hope I might become someone better. I wasn’t and I couldn’t. I was the same piece of shit I had been in that alleyway nine years ago. The day I left my mother’s corpse cooling and turned to a life on the streets as easily as if I’d been born to it.

I couldn’t change who I was. I couldn’t fix me or clean me like I could an engine. I had tried, hadn’t I? And I had failed.

I scratched harder at the engine—harder and harder at that grease stain—until the cuts on my neck opened up. Until new cuts cracked wide on my knuckles. Until the burn of soap dominated everything else.

But the grease never did come off. It probably never would.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I found Joseph and Jie away from the crowds and fanfare. They sat on a whitewashed fence at the top of the hill, the city of Natchez before them and the wharfs at their backs.

At my approach Joseph stopped reading his book and looked up. He smiled. “Mr. Sheridan.”

“You can call me Daniel.” I hopped onto the fence beside Jie.

“And I suppose you can call me Joseph, then.” He snapped his book shut. “I have been thinking about what you said about a portable power source. There is no denying that raw electricity is effective.”

I nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it too. There’s a device called an influence machine, see? It would allow you to make a spark wherever you are. And I could, ah . . .” I scratched the back of my neck. “Well, that is to say, I could make you one.”

“That would please me immensely, Daniel. But first”—he jabbed a pointed finger in the air—“this reminds me. I believe I owe you a job.”

“A job?” Jie asked. Her heels stopped clicking on the fence and her ears seemed to perk up.

“I don’t need you to find me a job,” I said gruffly.

“Did you find a new position, then?” Joseph sounded surprised. “Already?”

“Not quite.” I rested my elbows on my knees. I was done leaning on others for help—done dragging them into my messes. “My future ain’t your problem. You did a lot of good on that boat, and it don’t feel right to ask you for anything more.”

“Ah.”

Something about the way Joseph said that word—the weight to it—made me twist toward him. “You sound . . . disappointed.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I suppose . . . that is to say, I had hoped perhaps you might wish to . . . work with me.” He gulped and sat up taller. It was the first time I’d ever seen the young man look anything but perfectly poised. It made me grin.

“Are you tryin’ to hire me?”

“Wi. I suppose that is precisely what I am doing.” He sighed, running a hand over his head. Then his gaze met mine. “Your ideas about electricity are beautifully simple, yet I never thought of them. If a full-time position does not appeal to you, then perhaps I could hire you for a brief time—as a consultant.”

At that word Jie cracked her knuckles. “You could hire me. I can be your fighting consultant.” She threw him a hopeful look. “You wouldn’t even have to pay me. I’m fine with only room and board.”

Joseph’s eyes thinned. “You are tired of being a footman?”

She made a face. “The pay is good, but the work is dull, yeah? What you do”—she nudged Joseph with her elbow—“is exciting. And, I dunno. I felt like . . . like I was doing something right.” She bit her lip. “I know it sounds silly, but it’s true. Last night it seemed like the three of us had done something that only the three of us could do.”

At those words the dried mud on the road suddenly leaped into focus. And Jie’s words knocked around in my brain . . . before finally sliding down my spine and settling in my lungs. Something only the three of us could do. My breath hissed out. Then, without thinking, I blurted, “I’ll take the job.”

Joseph almost fell off the fence. “You will?”

“Yeah.” I set my hands on my knees and nodded slowly. “I reckon a consultant’s position might work. For a little while at least.” Until my past catches up again. “And this way, I can make you that influence machine—make sure you’ve always got raw electricity. But . . .” I angled my face toward his, my lips quirking up.

“Wi?”

“You have to hire her too.” I jerked my thumb at Jie. “Like she said, the three of us do well together.”

“Ah.” Joseph slid off the fence. “This seems a fair enough bargain. We did function well as a team, and I believe I can find enough funds to— Wait.” His eyes suddenly popped wide, and he rounded on Jie. “Did he call you a ‘she’?”

“Oh, uh. About that.” She jumped off the fence, her knees bending with the impact. Then she sheepishly rose, her gaze locked on her feet. “I’m not really a boy, Mr. Boyer. I just dress like one.”

Joseph gulped. “Oh my.”

“‘Oh my’ is right,” I drawled. Then I slid off the fence too. My new plans were all good and well . . . but there was still one more person I needed to speak to. One more thing that needed tending before I could head off with these Spirit-Hunters.

But Cassidy wasn’t easy to find. When I showed up at the hospital, it was to learn she’d gone to a hotel (paid for by the Langs). When I arrived at the hotel, it was to hear she had returned to the Queen. It was just as the sun was setting on the Mississippi’s west bank that I finally managed to find her.

She was in the pilothouse—I should’ve known.

Clack-clack-clack, thwump! The spyglass opened and closed in her hands—louder than my footsteps as I ascended the stairs into the room. Clack-clack-clack, thwump!