you like.”
Bion folded his arms over his chest, grinning. There was the unmistakable presence of a pin beneath her bodice collar. Illuminists wore their pins with pride. Only Helikeians stooped to deception by hiding their pins. The female winked at him but all she managed to do was inspire disgust. Every man serving beneath his authority on ship did so with pride. There were recruits eagerly awaiting their turn to be airborne.
Sophia was the one exception to that.
Bion followed the woman down the alley, the sway of her hips less than arousing.
“Here we are… Peter pours the best Irish whiskey in town.” She beckoned him further down the alley, far past where anyone on the street might be able to see them.
“Just a bit more,” she continued. “It’s more private-like back here. No one to disturb us.”
Peter, the barkeep she led him to, had greasy hair and splotches on his shirt. His establishment wasn’t much better. The tables were rough and several were missing chunks due to fights. The chairs were mismatched and the customers sitting in them less than refined. Several had untouched drinks in front of them and cards in their hands that they weren’t paying attention to.
It was a den of thieves, no mistake about it.
“Just get off ship?” the woman cooed to him as she delivered a glass full of dark whiskey.
Bion lifted the glass but paused before taking a sip. “Just stepped back onto the ground.” He tossed back the drink and chuckled at the way the woman’s eyes slanted with satisfaction. She sashayed back toward the bar to fetch another for him.
Bion leaned back in the chair, giving his company the illusion that he was primed to enjoy the nighttime pleasures. Someone began to beat the keys of the worn piano, filling the space with a rather out-of-tune polka. The drink was overly strong, but they were going to have to feed him a great deal more to render him senseless. Science was a wonderful tool, especially when it came to outsmarting his enemy. Swallowing a half pound of butter hadn’t been pleasant, but the fat would coat his insides and make it much harder for the liquor to be absorbed.
“You’re thirsty,” his escort remarked as she delivered another glass. She sat on the edge of the table, making sure that her skirt flipped aside to allow him a look at her thigh. “How long were you at sea?”
“Wasn’t at sea,” Bion offered. He grinned and leaned back in the chair, letting her believe he was falling under the influence of the alcohol Peter was serving up.
She leaned forward so he was treated to a view of her cleavage. “Didn’t you say you were newly off ship, love?”
Bion shook his head, smiling like a besotted fool. The liquor was laced with something but his tolerance was higher than they gave him credit for. “I did and so I am, but I wasn’t at sea,” he drawled.
She leaned closer, peering into his eyes. Her smile faded as she realized his eyes weren’t streaked with amber. He wasn’t a Navigator.
“Now don’t you worry…” He sat forward and patted her knee. “Maybe my eyes are normal sort of eyes, but I know how to navigate.”
She smiled. He was treading on dangerous ground. It took more effort than he’d anticipated remaining in the chair. Every instinct he had was firing off, warning him to evade the trap being so neatly closed around him. Instead, he forced himself to seal his own doom by uttering a few more incriminating sentences.
“You know, there is nothing quite like a sunset… among the clouds.”
He was taking a huge risk, but it was the only plan he’d been able to concoct given the short amount of time. Grainger wouldn’t risk leaving Sophia on the ground for very long. Every moment she resided within the city was an opportunity for an Illuminist Hunter to locate her. They’d get her on board an airship as quickly as possible. The only thing they would have to wait for was dusk to conceal them. Bion glanced around the makeshift bar.
Bion folded his arms over his chest, grinning. There was the unmistakable presence of a pin beneath her bodice collar. Illuminists wore their pins with pride. Only Helikeians stooped to deception by hiding their pins. The female winked at him but all she managed to do was inspire disgust. Every man serving beneath his authority on ship did so with pride. There were recruits eagerly awaiting their turn to be airborne.
Sophia was the one exception to that.
Bion followed the woman down the alley, the sway of her hips less than arousing.
“Here we are… Peter pours the best Irish whiskey in town.” She beckoned him further down the alley, far past where anyone on the street might be able to see them.
“Just a bit more,” she continued. “It’s more private-like back here. No one to disturb us.”
Peter, the barkeep she led him to, had greasy hair and splotches on his shirt. His establishment wasn’t much better. The tables were rough and several were missing chunks due to fights. The chairs were mismatched and the customers sitting in them less than refined. Several had untouched drinks in front of them and cards in their hands that they weren’t paying attention to.
It was a den of thieves, no mistake about it.
“Just get off ship?” the woman cooed to him as she delivered a glass full of dark whiskey.
Bion lifted the glass but paused before taking a sip. “Just stepped back onto the ground.” He tossed back the drink and chuckled at the way the woman’s eyes slanted with satisfaction. She sashayed back toward the bar to fetch another for him.
Bion leaned back in the chair, giving his company the illusion that he was primed to enjoy the nighttime pleasures. Someone began to beat the keys of the worn piano, filling the space with a rather out-of-tune polka. The drink was overly strong, but they were going to have to feed him a great deal more to render him senseless. Science was a wonderful tool, especially when it came to outsmarting his enemy. Swallowing a half pound of butter hadn’t been pleasant, but the fat would coat his insides and make it much harder for the liquor to be absorbed.
“You’re thirsty,” his escort remarked as she delivered another glass. She sat on the edge of the table, making sure that her skirt flipped aside to allow him a look at her thigh. “How long were you at sea?”
“Wasn’t at sea,” Bion offered. He grinned and leaned back in the chair, letting her believe he was falling under the influence of the alcohol Peter was serving up.
She leaned forward so he was treated to a view of her cleavage. “Didn’t you say you were newly off ship, love?”
Bion shook his head, smiling like a besotted fool. The liquor was laced with something but his tolerance was higher than they gave him credit for. “I did and so I am, but I wasn’t at sea,” he drawled.
She leaned closer, peering into his eyes. Her smile faded as she realized his eyes weren’t streaked with amber. He wasn’t a Navigator.
“Now don’t you worry…” He sat forward and patted her knee. “Maybe my eyes are normal sort of eyes, but I know how to navigate.”
She smiled. He was treading on dangerous ground. It took more effort than he’d anticipated remaining in the chair. Every instinct he had was firing off, warning him to evade the trap being so neatly closed around him. Instead, he forced himself to seal his own doom by uttering a few more incriminating sentences.
“You know, there is nothing quite like a sunset… among the clouds.”
He was taking a huge risk, but it was the only plan he’d been able to concoct given the short amount of time. Grainger wouldn’t risk leaving Sophia on the ground for very long. Every moment she resided within the city was an opportunity for an Illuminist Hunter to locate her. They’d get her on board an airship as quickly as possible. The only thing they would have to wait for was dusk to conceal them. Bion glanced around the makeshift bar.
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