Strange and Ever After (Something Strange and Deadly #3)(40)

After a great deal of asking around, Oliver managed to find a vendor in the nearby village who had sufficient oil . . . but not at an affordable price. “The man wants two hundred British pounds,” Oliver told Joseph, “and I cannot talk him down.”

Joseph, Allison, and I stood beside the open gondola hatch while Daniel and Jie yanked out floorboards in the cargo hold—Daniel needed better access to his engine. Meanwhile, our robed fuel salesman leaned on his donkey beneath a sycamore tree nearby. He stroked his mustache and looked very pleased by the inevitable fortune coming his way.

Joseph massaged his forehead. “We cannot possibly afford that. I do not even have a quarter of it.”

“Perhaps we could try a different village,” I suggested, but the grim slant to Oliver’s brow told me we weren’t likely to find a better price anywhere. Swatting at flies that kept attacking my bleeding arm, I turned to Allison. “How much money do you have?”

She winced and shrank back. “Not much more than Mr. Boyer.”

I blinked. “Your mother let you leave Philadelphia with less than fifty dollars?”

Her wince deepened, and she stoutly refused to meet my eyes. “My mother did not precisely approve of my trip. In fact, she swore she would not contribute a dime. What little money I have is what I managed to save myself.”

My breath wuffed out, and I fought to keep the disappointment off my face—it was hardly Allison’s fault we were poor. “Do we have any idea how long it would take to reach Giza from here?” I asked Oliver.

He hollered the question over to our new Egyptian friend—who quickly hollered back an answer.

“Half a day by horse,” Oliver translated.

I lowered my hands. “That is not so bad then. If we had horses, I mean.”

“But it would be better if we had the airship,” Joseph muttered. He shook his head. “What if we must make another escape like Marseille? This balloon has been invaluable to us so far, and I do not want to abandon it if we can help it.”

“Well,” Allison inserted hesitantly, “we can assume this Marcus fellow is at least a day or two behind us, no? A boat cannot possibly cross the Mediterranean as quickly as an airship. So you could feasibly fix the balloon and still reach Giza before him.”

“Except for the money,” Oliver reminded. “And I do not think we can convince this man that donating his fuel is a worthwhile investment.”

Investment. The word jostled around in my brain . . . and then solidified into an idea. “Investment!” I gripped at Allison’s hands. “That professor you mentioned—we could find him! You could collect your debt, and we could use the money to repair the balloon.”

“You mean Professor Milton?” Allison’s eyes widened. “B-but he probably isn’t around any more. And even if he was, I haven’t the faintest idea where to begin looking. Clarence’s detective found him at . . . at some hotel. Shepheard’s, I believe.”

“Shepheard’s?” Oliver asked, eyebrows rising with interest. “You are certain?”

“No!” she wailed. “It was a year ago, and I wasn’t very interested. And who knows if he is still there after all this time?”

“Well, Shepheard’s is in Cairo, Miss Wilcox. It’s, uh . . .” Oliver waved a mosquito from his face. “It’s a hotel where all the Westerners stay, and if your professor is still in the area, it’s very likely he would stay there. Someone at the hotel will surely know.”

Joseph folded his arms over his chest, his face screwed up with concentration. For several moments, the only sound was the wind in the grass, the huffing of the donkey, and the groaning of resistant gondola floorboards.

“I suppose,” Allison mused aloud, “that if we went into Cairo, then we could also get Miss Chen a scarificator.”

Joseph remained silent, but his eyes twitched.

“And,” Allison went on, an undeniable layer of syrup in her tone, “we could find turmeric to thin her blood. Perhaps we could also find fresh bandages for you, Mr. Boyer.”

Another eyelid twitch. Then Joseph nodded once, his eyes coming back into focus. “All right. It is decided then. Allison and Oliver . . . and you as well, Eleanor. You must go to Cairo and try to acquire enough funding for fuel—or possibly find a cheaper fuel source.” Joseph’s gaze settled on Oliver. “Perhaps you could find transportation into the city.”

My demon nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips, and strode off toward the Egyptian and his donkey.

“And I,” I said, holding out my wounded arm for Allison, “will let you bind this cut. It stings like the dickens, and the flies simply will not leave me alone.”

Once my arm was cleaned and bound up, there was only one thing more I wished to do before leaving the airship. One person I wished to see.

Because now that my magic had worn off, now that we were all so happy to be alive, and now that I had almost lost him, I was ready to say what needed saying. Now was the right moment for me. Finally.

I found Daniel in the engine. Half the floorboards had been ripped out and tossed to one side, and his blond head was hunkered over a vast array of valves, tubes, and gears.

I knelt at the edge of the planks. “Daniel.”

His head whipped up. Grease and sweat streaked across his cheeks. He looked absolutely himself.