Tin Swift

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Daylight and the drone of fans woke Cedar from a deep sleep. That, and pain.

“Morning, Mr. Hunt.” Alun Madder leaned forward in the chair, puffing on his pipe.

Cedar tried to moisten his mouth. Didn’t work. “Mae?”

“Sleeping right over there in the cot you set her in. Rose is sleeping too. So are Captain Hink and Joonie Wright. All of them getting along well enough.”

Wil, in wolf form now that it was daylight, lifted his head from where he was lying on the floor beside Cedar. His old copper eyes burned with accusation. There was no blood on him. That was the one good thing about the curse. Injuries healed quickly.

But from Wil’s gaze Cedar knew he’d be spending the night apologizing to his brother for jumping out of the ship.

“I’m thinking those native gods should have given you wings instead of fur, Mr. Hunt, the way you dove into the night. For a second there, I supposed you thought you could fly.”

Cedar pushed up, only made it halfway before his ribs sent hot licks of pain through him. His head felt heavy and his neck hurt. So did every other damn inch of him.

Wil growled.

Cedar lay back down and Wil stopped growling.

“We’re under way?” he asked.

Alun reached into his voluminous overcoat, pulled out a flask and offered it to him. “Bryn’s towing the Swift.”

“Where?” Cedar asked.

Alun nodded to the flask and Cedar took a swig. Moonshine burned like lightning down to the soles of his feet.

He exhaled as the heat spread over his muscles and out to the tip of each finger. He took a second swallow, then handed it back to Alun.

“Kansas. I hear it’s lovely this time of year,” Alun said.

“Thank you,” Cedar said.

“Oh, it is my pleasure, Mr. Hunt. My pleasure.” Alun took a swallow of the hooch, then stood up. “Sleep yourself out. We’ve a while of sky ahead of us.”

Cedar closed his eyes. He didn’t think sleep would claim him, but the constant hum of the fans and the rocking of the Swift sent him down the path soon enough.