A Dawn Most Wicked

quick decision.

I was going out.

No one was supposed to leave the steamer tonight, on account of the race . . . but if I stayed, I would lose my sanity on top of my sleep. Nightmares didn’t even compare to the rage that had been growing in my gut for the last week. Rage at Cochran for firing me. Rage at Murry for lying about me. Rage at Cassidy for not noticing I had avoided her.

In just over a day I’d be out of work . . . and on the run again. Life was spiraling that way no matter what I did, and tomorrow I would wake to a dawn most wicked. So I might as well enjoy myself before.

A splash of water and a clean uniform later, I crept to my door. The ghost still floated there, and I almost considered not leaving . . . just so I wouldn’t have to walk through it.

But with a steeling breath, I walked directly into his wispy form.

Cold, more biting and complete than any natural cold, snapped through my bones. A dank, earthy scent filled my nose. And then I was through, my teeth grating and my hands shoving the door wide . . .

I was almost halfway down the pier, the hum of Canal Street becoming a mighty roar with each racing step. I had managed to get off the Sadie Queen unnoticed by anyone, and the life of the city was calling to me. It was a steamy night with humidity so thick you could grab it. And there was an electricity shimmering through the air—the sort of charge you felt only on summer nights in the South.

I jogged around a giant stack of crates and skittered to a stop, my arms windmilling. A girl marched toward me, the burnt orange silk of her evening gown like a flame in the dark. I didn’t have to see her face—I knew from her long strides that it was Cass.

Shit. I huffed in air, trying to catch my breath. I’d done so good at avoiding her. A week of hiding behind boilers, skipping lunch, sleeping outside with the deckhands. Maybe I could scoot back behind the crates. . . .

Her gaze landed on me, and even in the shadows I could see her eyes widen with recognition. She stopped dead in her tracks.

“Danny?”

“Uh, hello, Miss Cassidy.” I bobbed my head and slung off my flat cap. “Going to a party?”

She blinked, as if surprised by my question. “The . . . the Langs. They’re hosting a dinner.” She smoothed at her bodice nervously. “I haven’t seen you in a while, Danny. Have you . . .” Her fidgeting slowed. Then stopped. “Have you been avoiding me?”

I stiffened. She had noticed my absence.

That made me happier than it should’ve.

But I made myself swipe the air carelessly. “Avoidin’ you? That’s ridiculous, Cass.”

She wasn’t fooled. “Is it because you got in a fight?” With a tentative step toward me, her gloved hand reached for my face. “I noticed that black eye, so I know you must’ve fought with someone. I could have helped you, you know—”

“Stop.” I ducked back from her. She’d noticed I was gone and she’d noticed my wounds. It made my chest hurt to think about. “It ain’t what you think, Cass.”

“Oh.” Her hand fell. Then anger flashed over her face and she stood taller. “So where have you been, then?”

“I might ask you the same thing,” I grumbled, sliding my cap on. “You and your pa have been gone every day since we got to New Orleans.”

Some of her bluster deflated. “It’s the Lang Company. They refuse to leave me alone.”

“Oh?”

“Every night since we got here, they’ve hosted galas and balls and dinners”—she ticked the events off her fingers—“and then teas and luncheons and more galas. Kent Lang parades me around like a spectacle. Reporters prod me with question while ladies twitter behind my back. ‘Oh, tee-hee,’” she mimicked in falsetto. “‘A female pilot—gracious me!’”

“Huh,” I grunted. The idea of Kent Lang, young bachelor and heir to the Lang Company, paying that much attention to Cass . . . I didn’t like it one bit.

And seeing Cass this close after a week made my traitorous heart pound a bit too hard. I slid my hands in my pockets to hide my trembling. “So, uh, if you’re going to a party now, then why’re you walking back toward the boat?”

“I forgot my cape.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s absurd, don’t you think? Why would anyone need a wrap on a night like this?” To prove her point, she dragged her finger over her exposed chest—then jabbed the finger at me. “My glove is soaked through!”

I didn’t respond. I was too preoccupied by her collarbone—by the way moisture beaded across it. . . .

I eased out a tight, churning breath, then I forced my eyes back to her face. Focus. Only friends. Nothin’ more.

“It is positively boiling outside!” Cass went on. “Yet I must waltz around in gowns and slippers and gloves. Oh—and did you know I cannot touch a gentleman or another lady without gloves? Of course I knew the rule existed, but I did not think anyone actually abided by it—not in this weather, leastwise.” She stomped her slippered foot—and it made her body bounce in ways I should not be seeing.

My gaze snapped to a stack of crates behind her. Only friends. Not a damned thing more.

“I keep trying,” she said, “to think of all this as a grand story to tell Ellis when I visit her in the hospital next. At least she’ll love all the fancy dresses and dancing.” Cass stared ruefully down at her skirts. But then her head whipped back up. “I almost forgot the worst part!” she exclaimed. “Why, it makes my temper practically ignite, Danny! No matter how many times I tell the reporters that I am only half of the team—that the apprentice engineer is just as important as the apprentice pilot—they don’t write it down. I keep telling them that you’re my other half, but they don’t seem to care. . . .” She trailed off.

My eyes shot back to her face. She was watching me through lowered lashes. I scratched the back of my neck. “Uh . . . what is it?”

“For my so-called other half, you have been almighty scarce this week.” Her lips pressed into a frown. “Why? Where have you been? I demand you tell me.”

“You demand, do you?” I gave a lazy shrug. “In that case I reckon I had a lot of work.”

“Don’t lie to me, Danny. We’re best friends, and . . .” She swallowed, hugging her arms to her stomach. “And I deserve better than that. You left the ship for a reason tonight, and if it wasn’t to talk to me, then what was?”

“To . . . to talk to you?” Is that why she thought I was here? For some sort of apology?

She leaned toward me, expectant, and I exhaled sharply. She was too near. The shape of her shoulders, the contour of her neck—I couldn’t stay sane with her here.

I scooted back a step. “I’m, uh, goin’ out.”

“Out?” Her mouth fell open, and for a half breath her eyes filled with hurt. With disappointment. But then she drew her shoulders back. “But the race is tomorrow, Danny. No one’s allowed to leave.”

“That so?” I drawled, turning my attention to my shoes.

“Dammit, Danny. Look at me. What if you ruin the race by getting rowdy tonight?”

“That won’t happen, Cass—”

“Then what if you get caught sneaking off? My father will have your hide!”

“That’s the least of my concerns.” I snorted. Captain Cochran was the last person I wanted to think about right then. He was taking away my job . . . and taking away Cassidy. All for something I hadn’t even done.

I doffed my cap. “You have a nice time at your party, Miss Cass, all right? Don’t dance too much.” Then I set off, forcing a jaunty whistle from my lips. But I made it only a few steps before her voice lashed out.

“You may not be concerned, but I am.”

My gut tightened—sharp and hard. I stopped walking.

“I’m concerned,” she repeated behind me. “Please, Danny. Please don’t risk your neck for something stupid.”

“You . . . don’t understand,” I said gruffly, glancing back. My gaze raked over her. Her fingers were clenched into fists, her eyes bright . . . and her breathing too fast.