Flamebird

“I still don’t like this,” Wyatt Earp muttered. His knuckles were white from gripping the seat arms so tightly.

“Don’t worry,” Bette tried to reassure him. “I’m sure Passepartout knows what he’s doing.” I hope, she thought. They were currently taking their seats inside the Shade’s airship in preparation for their trans-Atlantic flight to London.

“If a man was supposed to fly, God would’ve given him wings,” Earp griped.

Lord Graystoke, seated behind Earp, grinned widely. “Until you have flown through the air, you have never lived,” he said. “When I am racing among the treetops I know that I am truly alive.”

“Look at it like this,” Bette said. “It’s not going to be the fall that would kill us. Just the sudden stop at the end.” Earp just frowned even more, a feat Bette would have found impossible moments before.

Passepartout burst into laughter. He turned from the steam line he was adjusting and turned to Bette. “I shall have to remember that,” he said. He was still repeating, “the sudden stop” to himself as he returned to the pilot’s area of the cabin.

“Where’s the Shade?” Earp asked. “Ain’t he going to ride this out with us?”

As if summoned, the Shade entered the cabin at that very moment. His servant, always five steps behind him, paused to close and lock the cabin door.

“We are aboard,” the Shade called as he and the servant took their seats. Passepartout nodded as more associates of the Shade’s slowly cranked the roof open. Others cast off the mooring lines and the zeppelin seized its chance to take to the air.

“Extraordinary,” the Shade said. All aboard had their noses pressed to the windows except Earp.

“Yep,” Earp said as he stood. “Until we encounter Ms. Kane’s sudden stop.” He turned and walked through a small door in the back of the room, muttering about not being allowed to smoke.

“Why can’t he?” Bette asked.

“Because of the zeppelin’s nature,” Passepartout cried from the cockpit. “The balloon above is filled with hydrogen. Should a spark encounter that gas, we would make a very pretty fireball.”

Hydrogen! Bette thought. They’re not using helium or anything like that!

“That presents no problem to me,” Graystoke said. “I find the odor unpleasant.”

And you’re about a hundred years ahead of your time on that sentiment. At least that’s what this California girl thinks.

“How is Degaton going to get to London?” Bette asked.

“A steamer would be too slow,” the Shade replied. “From what you have described to me, I believe that he would be searching for the fastest transport available.” The Shade’s eyes narrowed. “I have heard rumors of a craft that can travel underwater.”

”That is impossible!” Graystoke said.

“Not exactly,” Earp said, returning to the cabin with an opened bottle of beer in his hand. “During the War Between the States, the Confederates were toying around with the idea of a submersible. At least till it sank during its first mission and didn’t come back up again.” Earp toasted them with the bottle and took a swig, ignoring the shocked faces around him.

Three Days Later

“Easy, boys!” the rich man called. “Set her down gently.” Around him, strong men grabbed the mooring lines of the Shade’s airship and worked to pull it toward the ground. At last it was low enough for the gangway to reach the door of the cabin. The ropes were quickly (and tightly) tied to iron pins set in cement. The gangway was raised into position and the door slowly slid open. The Shade stepped forward.

“Mr. Black!” the rich man called. He stepped forward, leaning on a cane as he went, and clasped the Shade’s hand as the others stepped forward.

The Shade quickly introduced the others. He turned back to the rich man. “And now let me introduce one of our European benefactors. Mr. Timothy Cratchitt. The heir to the Ebenezer Scrooge financial holding company.”

Cratchitt smiled. “Mr. Black assisted me several years gone,” he said in a soft voice. “He has my loyalty.” He glanced at the others for a moment. “You must be fatigued after your journey. Please follow me inside where we have refreshments prepared.” The group followed Cratchitt into the vast mansion.

Inside the parlor, the ragtag group had assembled. Each of them now held a glass containing their drink of choice.

”Excellent vintage,” the Shade complimented.

“Thank you,” Cratchitt replied. “I remembered that 1846 was a particular favorite of yours and have endeavored to keep at least one bottle in my wine cellar at all times.”

“As pleasant as this all is,” Earp said, “shouldn’t we be getting down to business?”

Cratchitt set his glass down on a table and sat down in an armchair facing the others. A fire crackled merrily behind him. “I have heard that there are odd people in London,” he said. “My men have been keeping watch around Buckingham Palace for a man resembling your `Degaton.’ So far they have seen nothing, which leaves us with two options. Either there is nothing to see…”

”Or they’re looking for the wrong thing,” Bette finished.

“He has found allies,” the Shade breathed. “Extraordinary.”

”But what do we do if we don’t even know who we’re looking for?” Earp demanded.

“Sometimes to hunt you must hunt their prey,” Graystoke said.

“He’s right,” Bette said. “We know exactly what he’s after.”

”Then we must be off,” the Shade said as he stood. He accepted his coat, hat, and cane from his ever-present servant.

“I have a carriage waiting,” Cratchitt said. “I wish only that I could join you.”

“You have done more than could have been asked already,” the Shade said. “We shall reclaim the airship upon our return.”

“I shall care for it and your pilot as if they were my own,” Cratchitt vowed.

“One thing,” Earp said as they walked toward the front of the house. “What about the palace guards?”

Graystoke smiled. “They would be no challenge for us. And Ms. Kane shares the same knowledge as our prey. They can doubtless elude the guards just as easily as we.”

The Shade clipped on his smoked pince-nez sunglasses as they stepped into the sun and a carriage man hurried to help Bette inside. “Then may heaven have mercy on them,” he said. “For I shall not.”

“I don’t understand,” Bette said as the carriage lurched toward London. “Who could he have that would be a match for us?”

The Shade smiled. “There are many extraordinary people around now that we are in the new century,” he said. “Still, I hope that your Degaton has only succeeded in finding the usual allies – gutter trash who are worth no more alive than dead.”

“Have you heard the rumors of a man who could become invisible?” Graystoke asked.

“Nonsense,” Earp snorted.

“I have indeed,” the Shade replied. “What of you, Ms. Kane? Do you know any invisible men in your time?”

“Some,” Bette admitted.

Earp snorted again. “I suppose in your time we all just fly wherever we want to go.”

Bette smiled. “Not exactly,” she said. She laid her head back on the rear of the carriage and her eyes slowly closed.

Bette’s dreams were jumbled. Faces danced before her of people who had not yet been born. Garfield Logan. Charley Parker. Cody Driscoll. Paco Ramone. The rest of the team called Titans West joined them. She saw villains they had faced. She remembered what her time was like. And then she saw Degaton’s dream.

Crimson flags bearing a black D fluttered from every flagpole. Statues of Degaton lined the streets of the city formerly known as Washington DC. Thousands of people lived or died at his every word. He smiled as he closed the curtains of what had once been called the White House. His palace was being built on the grounds of the demolished Capitol building. He smiled as he sat down in his luxurious throne. He had finally achieved his dreams.

“Ms. Kane?” The Shade gently shook Bette awake. “We have arrived.”

Bette stepped outside of the carriage and entered a hotel with the rest of her group. They were quickly ushered to their rooms. “This is incredible,” Bette said as she looked around the large room.

The Shade smiled. “Cratchitt reserved the entire floor for us that we may strategize privately. We shall assemble later after dinner and plan.”

”All right,” Bette said.

It was shortly after dinner. Bette awoke from a nap to a loud knocking on her door. She stood and hurried over. The Shade stood on the other side.

“My dear, the time is now,” he said. “We have just received word from Cratchitt’s men. Mr. Degaton is making his move as we speak.”

“Give me a second to grab my things,” Bette said as she began to turn back into her room.

“The carriage will be waiting downstairs in five minutes. Time is of the essence!” the Shade said as he hurried away. A moment later Earp ran past, still loading his pistols.

The trip to the Palace seemed like a blur. Bette’s mind was racing even as everyone was silent. The rocking of the carriage only seemed to heighten their anxiety.

When they arrived at Buckingham Palace, the Shade dashed out of the carriage. As his servant helped her down Bette could see that the Shade was bent over some shadowy forms on the ground. “What is it?” she asked.

“The guards,” the Shade said as he stood. “They are alive, but unresponsive.” The Shade’s eyes narrowed. He looked nearly satanic in the flickering gaslight. “They are inside,” he said. As one, the group raced inside.

“Where do we look?” Earp asked.

Greystoke stopped and studied the room a moment. “This way,” he said, leading them down the hall. They continued their frantic pursuit.

They stopped short when they encountered the other group outside the royal bedroom. The Shade’s eyes widened as he recognized them. Alan Quartermain – the famed adventurer. A man in an ornate turban. A woman with pale skin dressed all in black. A large, hulking beast of a man. Another man who scrubbed away at his face, vanishing as he did so.

The rumored League was real. And they were working with Degaton to assassinate the king.

To Be Continued...

Next Issue: The final showdown with Degaton and his allies!

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