Tin Swift

of a lot more range than their firearms. As soon as the ship leveled out and swung broadside, they’d be easy pickings.

Then they’d be dead.

“Do you know her?” Miss Dupuis asked.

“Not yet,” Hink said. “Turn, you bitch,” he whispered to the ship. “Let’s see your true colors.”

The ship swung to the side and her shadow drew a net of darkness across the valley, rolling over scrub and stone.

“The Devil’s Nine,” Hink said, a mix of dread and hatred rising hot through his veins. She’d gotten her name for how many cannons she carried. “That’s Alabaster Saint’s ship,” he yelled to the others.

The ship was still too high to shoot, but it wouldn’t be long before those cannons opened up.

They were about to be blasted into little bits.

If they had been spotted. There was a chance, not much of one but some, that the men aboard the ship couldn’t see them huddled in the shadows of the stones with the failing light of day.

Hink’s heart beat hard and even. Time to make choices.

Run while they were still out of firing range? Or stay still and hope they searched the next valley?

“Steady,” Cedar said, thinking along the same lines as him. “The ship is full of Strange. We bolt and they’ll chase us through that tunnel and tear us to shreds. We can’t outrun them.”

“I can’t,” Hink agreed. “You and your brother could.”

Cedar looked over his shoulder at him, his eyes the color of burnt copper. “We stay together.”

“Hold,” Hink said to the sound of shifting rocks behind him.

“Captain,” Miss Dupuis said, angling a spyglass to the sky, “there’s another ship.”

Hink craned his neck to see sky around the Devil’s Nine and squinted against the clouds.

Another ship. Coming in high and fast, sweet and slick as a silver needle glowing bronze as she sang through the clouds.

“The Swift!” he yelled.

She was coming in too damn fast.

At first he thought Guffin was at the wheel, overshooting the valley. But then the Swift tucked wing and turned, pulling around so hard you could hear the sails pop. She powered up above and behind Alabaster’s ship. That was one of Seldom’s moves.

The Swift dropped dozens of Old Jack’s glass jug firebombs that they’d smuggled along with the coal they’d loaded when they first landed.

Half the bombs hit the ship and started her on fire. The other half hit the ground and also ignited flames.

Hink let out a belly laugh. There wasn’t a situation in the world Seldom couldn’t cure with an explosion and burning something to the ground.

And it was always a delight to see.

The wet brush caught quick from the oil and flame, and sent off a horrible amount of smoke that worked as a screen to keep them hid from the Devil’s Nine.

But getting them out of this wallow relied on whether Seldom had had a fix on him and his companions before mucking up the visibility.

Gunshots rang out. Cannons. Nine in hot succession, hard enough to make his molars ache.

The Devil’s Nine was aiming to blast the Swift out of the sky.

But the Swift was already on the fly. The cannon shots rocketed through empty air as the Swift gunned it west, much faster than the other ship. She dove hard, and headed straight for Hink.

The Swift was running at speed, her trawling lines and nets lowering for them to catch, her nose aimed straight toward the mountain behind them.

“She won’t pull up in time!” Hink yelled, getting on his feet. “Run for her, or she’ll miss the lift! Run!”

He didn’t have to yell twice. Miss Dupuis, Theobald, and Wright were already running straight into the flame and smoke toward the ship, weapons holstered but not out of reach. Cedar was pounding dirt for the ship too.

And so was Hink. The heat from flames licked at his clothes and the smoke skinned the inside of his lungs. Every step sent a sharp flash of pain through his leg, but he kept on. The net dipped down, as low as the trawling arm could reach.

The Swift’s fans roared, flattening the smoke into heated whips.

Miss Dupuis jumped for the netting, caught and started climbing. Miss Wright leaped after her, found good footing and started up. Mr. Theobald was only seconds behind them.

Cedar bent down. Hink lost sight of him for a second in the smoke. When he came into view again, he had Wil across his shoulders. The wolf seemed to be unconscious. Had he been hit?

Cedar reached up, leaped too high for a man with over a hundred pounds of animal on his shoulder. And then he paused and held one hand down for Hink.

Hink jumped for it. Grabbed rope with left hand and both boots, right hand gripped by Cedar Hunt, who didn’t even grunt from the impact, even though he was still supporting the wolf, and holding on to the net with only one hand.

“You clear?” Cedar yelled.

“I got it!” Hink yelled. Cedar let go of Hink’s hand.

The trawling arms were lifting, which meant the nets were billowing out beneath them, and the speed of the wind at this angle holding them all tight to the ropes.

Hink didn’t try climbing. Once the nets reached horizontal, he knew he could mostly crawl his way in.

Bullets cracked through the smoke and fire, and another set of cannon blasts broke the mountain into echoes. Hink held on, waiting for the nets to go horizontal, smoke digging tears out of his eyes.

Then the Swift shook like a wet dog. She’d been hit. Hink could feel the pain of it in his chest as clearly as if he had been shot. So clearly that he looked down at his shirt to make sure he hadn’t taken a bullet.

He was whole, but the Swift was not. The Devil’s Nine must have doused the fire Seldom had started in her. And now her cannons were about to blast the Swift into brittle bits.

A voice yelled out over the noise of fans and winds. “Cage!” the voice boomed. Not one of his crew, and not coming from the Swift. No, that voice was coming from somewhere below them.

Hink looked down.

He hadn’t expected an angel. He didn’t get one. Nope, all he got was a demon.

The Devil’s Nine hovered beneath them, every damn gun, cannon, and harpoon on that ship aimed their way.

“Marshal Cage. Come aboard, or we’ll fire.”

They wanted him.

They didn’t want his ship. They didn’t want his crew or Cedar Hunt and his brother. They didn’t want Rose. And if they gunned the Swift out of the sky they’d all die.

He had to buy them time. He had to buy Rose a chance at seeing the skies again with her own wings.

“Take care of her,” he whispered to the Swift.

“Marshal Cage!” the amplified voice from below yelled out again. “Surrender!”

Hink didn’t intend to surrender. Not his ship. Not his crew and passengers. Not Rose.

He twisted his head and looked down at the Devil’s Nine. He’d hit her nets if he dropped now.

“Captain!” Cedar yelled.

Hink looked up at him. “Get them the hell out of here!”

Then he pushed off of the net and spread wide so he could catch at the Devil’s ropes and rigging.