“I can call my friend Esha and ask. She knows a lot of high-ranking Mytheans in Scotland. She might be able to find her.”

He nodded. “Good.”

“It’s too bad we can’t aetherwalk,” Andrasta said as he moved to the stern of the boat.

He grunted his agreement. The aether, that ephemeral substance connecting earth and the afterworlds, allowed certain Mytheans to travel through it by aetherwalking. Andrasta had the ability, and she could take him along as well. The only downside to that plan—and it was a major downside—was that the aether linked everything. If she entered it to travel, the gods could find her. And him.

So it looked like they’d be taking the slow route.

“How long have you had this”—Andrasta peered around with a dubious expression—“vessel?”

“A while.” He liked the old girl, and though he wanted to defend the Clara G.’s honor, he didn’t want to give Andrasta any encouragement to keep talking. He’d always liked her voice, full of the joyous way she viewed the world. If he wanted to keep his wits about him, he couldn’t be distracted by mooning over her as he’d done so many years ago.

Cam set about untying the lines to free the boat from the dock, the action as much muscle memory as it was conscious act. He didn’t let the dark slow his progress. Andrasta had taken the aether to get here. If the gods were looking for her, this was where they’d show up, since it was the last place her energy led. Getting out of here soon was at the top of his list.

“You can have the bunk.” He nodded to the little cabin built onto the aft end of the boat, which housed a bed and his clothes. The rest of the boat was open air.

With a flick of his wrist, he untied the last line at the bow, then bounded up the small ladder to the raised pilothouse situated in the forward end of the boat. The Clara G. was primarily flat deck space, with just the little cabin at the stern and pilothouse at the bow.

He flipped on the big lights that would help illuminate the river. It was wide here, the water moving sluggishly downstream. He threw on the engine and pulled smoothly away from the dock. He’d let Andrasta explore while he got them far enough away from the Caipora’s Den that he could breathe freely again.

“What kind of boat is this?” Her head popped up on the ladder leading to the pilothouse.

He sighed. So much for exploring the main deck. Not that there was much to see down there. But he didn’t want her squeezing into the tiny pilothouse; she’d be too close.

“Get on the roof.” He jerked his head backward to indicate that she should climb on top of the flat roof, which was supported by piping. It didn’t enclose any space on the main deck, but it did provide shelter from the rain.

He could hear her climb onto the steel roof and walk around the flat space he used as a deck whenever he wanted to relax or needed a bit of extra cargo space.

“What kind of boat is this?” she asked again. Her voice came from too close behind him.

He glanced back to see her standing with her arms folded over the half wall of the pilothouse, staring at him. He turned to face the river, but the back of his neck prickled under her gaze. Normally he liked that the breeze flowed through the pilothouse, which was essentially just a chest-high box with a roof several feet overhead. Now, he wished for windows. Thick ones.

“Steamboat originally. But now it’s powered by diesel,” he said.

“An old one?”

Always so curious. He felt a grin tug at the corners of his mouth, but he stifled it. “You could say that. It’s one of the mini riverboats from the Klondike gold rush back at the end of the nineteenth century. Found it rotting away in a barn up in the Yukon Territories about fifty years ago. Couldn’t save the wooden paddle wheel, and the engines and boiler had been stripped, but the rest of the steel hull was sound. Brought it down here, gave it a couple outboard engines and some modernizing, and it’s been faithful ever since.”

“Really?” Excitement laced her voice. “How do you think the diesel

engines compare with the original steam propulsion?”

“You like engines?”

“I like technology, and steam was the biggest thing to hit humanity since the wheel.”

She was clever. “Diesel is less exciting and less dangerous, but more reliable and easier to maintain. But I do miss steam sometimes.”

“That’s what I figured. There’s just something so romantic about steam. How’d you get it all the way down here?”

Steam was more romantic? She was clever and weird. He’d almost forgotten how much so. He grinned as he said, “I shipped it overland, like that movie. The one where they carried the steamboat over the mountains into South America.”

She made an impressed noise in the back of her throat. Or did he just choose to interpret it that way? He scowled.

“Fitzcarraldo? Wouldn’t it have been easier to put it on a cargo ship?”

“Sure, but I’ve got nothing but time and wanted the challenge. You like movies?” Fitzcarraldo was an unusual one. He had no idea they had movies in Otherworld—but then again, he hadn’t been there in two thousand years.

Tags: Linsey Hall The Mythean Arcana Paranormal
Source: readsnovelonline.net