Imprudence (The Custard Protocol #2)(13)

“No, I ain’t.”

“Well, then, new gadget, pretty advanced at that.” Which made Rue think of Quesnel’s mysterious fern tank down in the boiler room. Perhaps these men were after that? Exo-splorers, apparat-collectors, and cog-burglars weren’t so uncommon these days, and if they heard of something new outside patent control, they might risk boarding her airship to steal it. Although, they didn’t seem prepared to transport something as big.

As everything seemed to be controlled on deck, Rue ran below to find that Aggie had pulled an enormous metal carapace over the tank, which bolted to the floor through one of the securing rings meant for a boiler. Definitely Lefoux design. Rue had seen Quesnel in a steam roly-poly transport made with exactly the same kind of carapace.

If anyone was after that tech, they certainly weren’t getting it. Rue was oddly reassured over its safety, especially given no one had asked her opinion on its presence.

Back on deck, Tasherit had her mouse supine and panting under one large paw. The decklings had their lemur tree felled and were sitting on every available part of him. They looked mighty pleased with themselves. Rue decided she would put on a very nice tea for them tomorrow as a thank-you. I shall get some hot cross buns from Lottapiggle’s.

While they had been trained to repel invaders, it wasn’t until that moment that Rue realised they were not at all equipped to take prisoners.

“Decklings, you’re good with rope. Could you determine a way to tie these men up for questioning?”

“Yes, Lady Captain!”

They did their best, but the ropes they had were big, being intended for balloon work, so both men were rather wrapped about as if they were mooring posts. Still, they didn’t look likely to escape and, being injured, were docile enough.

Tasherit, with a meaningful glance at Rue, disappeared below, emerging some time later in human form with two greasers in tow – big burly men with large fish knives at the ready.

“Ah, good, Miss Sekhmet, there you are.”

They established early on that their werelioness did not want to be known as a werelioness. Her people had gone into hiding centuries ago and she wished to respect their secrecy. Whether this was preference or some sacred vow, Rue had never been so bold as to ask. It was clearly a private supernatural matter and the entire crew honoured the werecat’s wishes. Just like a cat, to mould her environment to suit her whim. Thus, while Rue had told the Shadow Council – she had had to tell them – of her encounter with the weremonkeys, she’d left werecats out of her report.

Tasherit was invaluable muscle, being the first supernatural anyone had ever met who could travel through the aether. Although, truth be told, she slept like the dead the entire time. This, too, was intrinsically catlike.

Thus, in the face of their prisoners, everyone treated Tasherit as if she were different from the lioness. No reason for these thugs to know anything. Besides, it would only add to The Spotted Custard’s reputation as having a trained attack cat.

“Miss Sekhmet? If you could please assume control of the prisoners and begin questioning? See if you can find out who hired them and what they’re after.”

“It’s not my area of expertise but I will do my best.” Tasherit’s beautiful face was impassive.

“If you can’t get anything out of them, I’ll pass them on to Dama. I’ll wager he can.”

The werecat nodded. “Agreed.” Miss Sekhmet had yet to meet Rue’s vampire father but she knew of him. At least, Rue assumed they’d never met – hard to tell with immortals.

“Still, I’d prefer to source this mess ourselves before we involve any of my parents. Things always get dramatic with them.”

“And you’re young enough to still hunger for your independence.” Tasherit’s tone didn’t indicate whether she found this charming or annoying.

Rue had no idea how old the werecat was, but she would guess she was older than most werewolves if not as old as a vampire. Which meant three hundred at least. Under such circumstances, a little condescension was expected.

“You have the deck. I should go and tell the twins that everything is safe now.”

Tasherit nodded. “Good idea. You sent the little flower down to her brother?”

“Yes. I find it best to keep Prim out of the way when things get rough. She’s a delicate flower.”

Tasherit laughed. “Or she likes to be thought a delicate flower.”

Rue narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing to her anyway?”

The werecat’s brown eyes went wide with assumed innocence. “Me? Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Mmm.” Rue could almost see her licking her whiskers. “Try not to break her, please? She’s my best friend and not your toy on a string.”

Tasherit only looked smugger. “I assure you, I have no intention of harming one hair on that lovely head. And I am most assuredly not playing.”

Rue issued her a measuring stare. “Cats.”





Rue knocked on the library door.

“Yes?” said a tremulous voice from within. “Who is it?”

“Honeysuckle Isinglass.” It was their agreed-upon code for all extenuating circumstances.

The door swung open to show the twins, wide-eyed and sobered after listening to the kerfuffle abovedecks.