K. Weiland - Storming

That got some of the folks—if not J.W.—to quiet down a bit.

“I regret that the simple joys of the airshow I intended for your pleasure should have been destroyed by so heinous a disaster. But I am glad that I and my stalwart pilots are here in your moment of need!”

That shut up even J.W.

“Now, listen.” Livingstone hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. “In the face of this crisis, we must abandon the frivolous pursuits of showmanship.”

Hitch almost rolled his eyes. For Livingstone, the show always went on.

“Instead, we will combine our skills and the horsepower of our many flying machines. We will face down this threat from above. We will not be content to sit on our laurels and wait for the enemy to come to us. No, sir! We will hunt down this sky beast.”

The crowd started murmuring again, but this time they were calmer, maybe even a little hopeful.

“And to show the sincerity of my intent,” Livingstone said, “I will personally dedicate the entire purse from our competition as an incentive for the man who finds the beast.”

Everybody started cheering and clapping.

What was that old buzzard up to? Hitch frowned.

Before he could think on it too long, Aurelia pushed her way through the crowd, both hands held straight out. In front of whatever Campbell and Livingstone were standing on, she stopped and turned around. She hugged her violet scarf around her elbows. Her eyes were wide open and a little wild. The pale red-blonde of her hair fell out of the bun at her nape and wisped around her face. She started murmuring, too low to hear from the back of the tent.

Campbell and Livingstone exchanged a look, and Campbell leaned down, a hand on her shoulder to try to ease her away.

“No!” She slapped at his hand, then faced forward again. “I knew it was coming. I knew it was coming to get us all. I told you!” She looked around, maybe trying to find somebody she actually had told. “I told Walter…” Her voice trailed out again.

Hitch frowned. Somebody needed to go up there and fetch her before she started in on one of her fits. He looked around for Nan, came up empty, and started pushing forward himself.

“Come along, Miss Aurelia,” Campbell said. “You’re perfectly safe. You have my word.”

“Your word can’t change anything.” She looked over her other shoulder at Livingstone. “Neither can yours!”

“Aurelia!” Nan’s panicked voice cut through the tent. She sidled along the edge, headed toward the front, her mouth pinched. “Aurelia, that’s enough!”

Aurelia didn’t even glance at her sister. “It is coming to get you all, because you are all crazy.” She tilted her nose. “I know because that man Zlo said it to me, back before the first storm. He was down here on the ground then, and he told me. Not any of the rest of you, just me.”

“Aurelia!” Nan pushed through the last row of people and caught Aurelia’s elbow. Her face was harried, her eyebrows drawn down in a deep V. “Stop this nonsense, dear. You must come along.”

“I tried to warn you!” Aurelia’s voice rose into a screech. “I told you! I told Walter, I told Byron, I told the postman!” The screech deepened into a frantic sob. “But none of you listened to me.”

Nan hauled Aurelia away.

Dead silence held the crowd for two full seconds. Then pandemonium erupted.

A chill, like the fingertip of a ghost, touched the back of Hitch’s neck. Aurelia was more than one egg short of a dozen, everybody knew that. But she wasn’t a liar any more than Lilla was Madame Curie. What was it she had told him back at the hospital after Jael had been knocked out by the lightning? Now that there had been one storm, there would be two?

Maybe she had been trying to warn him. He’d said he believed her—and then brushed off the whole thing.

He filled his lungs and turned to go. He needed to get out of here, get his prop patched up, find a way to pay Earl’s doctor bill, and then keep Jael under wraps until they could figure out how to knock Zlo out of the sky for good.

He ducked back outside into the drizzle and made his way over to where his Jenny was still tied to J.W.’s back bumper.

“Son! Hold up a minute, won’t you?”

He looked up from the knot in the rope.

Livingstone walked over, mincing steps to avoid puddles. Behind him, people filtered out of the tent.

“You heard what was said in there, I guess?” Livingstone asked.

“Yeah, I heard.”

“Well, then I know I can count on you to help me fulfill my promise to these people.”

Hitch straightened all the way up. “Look, showmanship’s all fine and good. I’m for it. But this ain’t the time.”

“Nonsense, dear boy. There’s never a better time. Number one, it gives these people something to ponder other than their own panic. Number two”—he tapped Hitch’s chest with the silver handle of his walking stick—“if we’re going to be humanitarians, I see no reason why we cannot profit from it.” He leaned in. “I hope you know without my saying so that I had nothing to do with this travesty. But I must admit it has presented what my business acumen tells me is the opportunity of a lifetime. I have no intention of wasting that. What we pilots must all do now is work together. Follow my lead, and this could end up being on every newspaper in the country. What do you think of that?”

Ah, of course. Livingstone didn’t just want the publicity for bringing Schturming down. Wouldn’t he be just more than ecstatic if he was to actually get his grubby hands on the thing? Hitch could see him now: making his grand entrance into every town between Seattle and Miami Beach, coasting in on that giant dirigible.

No doubt Livingstone would be equally delighted with the _dawsedometer_’s prospects. Lightning you could control? He could stage dogfights the like of which the war pilots had never even seen.

And of course he’d be as scrupulous as a white-gloved old lady at Sunday services. Wouldn’t even think of using the threat of all that chaos to keep his pilots—and Lord knew who else—in line.

Working for Livingstone would be challenging enough as it was. No way Hitch wanted to be within five hundred miles of the man if he somehow shimmied past Campbell and got his hands on that dirigible.

“If you want me to tell you I’m going to go up there and try to find that thing and bring it down, then the answer is I sure am. But you’re forgetting this is my home. What I do, I do for the people here, not for your show.”

“Of course, of course. All the more reason you should come around to my way of thinking. I will bring down this threat to your home, and I tell you in all frankness that I value your skills in helping me achieve that.” Livingstone lowered his voice. “You might yet achieve great things, Captain Hitchcock. You just need the guidance of an experienced hand.”

In other words, Livingstone wanted a long leash on Hitch, so anything Hitch might do would ultimately be a credit to the Extravagant Flying Circus.

Livingstone smiled and stepped back. “I’m sure you realize that with the unfortunate demise of the competition, our bet will have to be abandoned. But I must be honest with you: I would still be pleased to offer you a membership in my troupe. If you should be instrumental in helping me destroy the airbeast, then perhaps I might consider presenting you that partnership after all.” He shrugged. “My way gets you everything you desire. You get to free your town and journey on.”

Had the old buzzard wanted Hitch as a partner in his show all along?

Hitch took a careful breath. “We’ll see how it goes.”