I'm really excited to share that Book 2 in my Steampunk Red Riding Hood series is now available. Continue Clemeny's adventures as she travels above the realm to chase werewolves.
Novel Description
With Lionheart as the new alpha, the streets of London are quiet.
But above the realm, mischief is brewing.
While airship pirates are a common plague upon the kingdom, the airship Fenrir proves particularly troublesome--especially on a full moon.
Clemeny must take to the skies before these shape-shifting Vikings kick off a new Ragnarok. Easier said than done now that she's down one good eye, a partner, and not to mention the fact that she gets motion sick.
On top of that, the new scar across her face makes Clemeny feel like she'll have better luck intimidating her foes than finding a beau. But Agent Edwin Hunter, recently assigned as head of Clemeny's division, is proving to be an interesting prospect. Despite her apprehensions, it's up to Agent Louvel to chase Fenrir across the heavens.
Alphas and Airships is a retelling of the Red Riding Hood fairy tale set in Melanie Karsak's bestselling steampunk universe. Alphas and Airships is Book 2 in the Steampunk Red Riding Hood series.
Sneak Peek
Chapter 1: When Werewolves Fly
I clutched the rail of the airship and tried not to look down. My stomach flopped as
the vessel rocked in the turbulent air. A raven landed on a nearby rope. It turned
and cawed loudly at me.
“Bad omen,” the airship balloonman called down from the crow’s nest just under the balloon.
“Must be getting close.”
I waved my hand at the bird, shooing it away.
“Close to what? How can you tell we’re close to
anything?” I asked, gazing out at the mist-drenched sky. My stomach pitched
sideways once more as the airship jostled in the breeze. I inhaled deeply
through my nose then exhaled long and slow. Travelling
by any means of conveyance save my own feet always brought out the worst in my
stomach. But journeying a long distance in an airship? The worst. My mouth
watered, and I swallowed hard.
“Close to land. I say,
you look green, Agent,” the balloonman
said.
“I’m fine,” I lied then turned and looked back out
at the fog.
The balloonman chuckled.
For weeks now, the Scottish division of the Red Cape
Society, a unit called Shadow Watch, had reports of a rogue airship trolling
the skies above Scotland, the isles, and the North Sea. The pirate ship had
been a nuisance at first—as most airship pirates were—but they’d recently
attacked Her Majesty’s aether armada. They’d lifted a large shipment of weapons
and other valuable, but secret, intel from the ship, dropping the sailors in
the North Sea as thanks. Our sovereign was not happy.
Airship piracy, even when a nuisance enough to
bother Her Majesty, wasn’t usually of concern for the Red Cape Society. But one
stray report caught the attention of Shadow Watch. One unfortunate bloke, a
victim of an attack, washed ashore in Caithness with the story that the pirates
had red eyes. Red as rubies.
So here I was, chasing werewolves through the aether.
Captain Martin, who piloted the ship, pulled a cord
on his wheelstand. Below deck, a bell rang. Leaning toward a receiver near the
wheel, the captain called, “Slow to coasting.” He then looked up at the
balloonman. “Hold her steady.”
I dipped into my vest pocket and pulled out a piece
of candied ginger. When Grand-mère heard I was headed
aloft, she’d insisted I bring the candies along. I was very glad she had. If not for her quick thinking, I’d likely give
our location away by retching violently over the side of the airship.
I crossed the deck of the Jacobite, a vessel belonging to Her Majesty’s aether Navy, and
joined Captain Martin.
He unrolled a map. “There was an attack in this area
two nights ago. They wait for dense air such as this.”
“How do they find the other ships in all this cloud
cover?”
“If we descend about fifty feet, we’ll fall out of
the dense cloud bank. Then, we’d be like ducks in a pond. They must sit in the
fog and listen, waiting for their marks to fly past. Typical pirate tactic.
They just seem especially good at it—or especially lucky.”
Or they have the
enhanced hearing of werewolves, I
thought, but I didn’t say so.
We grew silent as we listened. Below, I heard the
sound of the waves. Everything was so still.
Captain Martin was right. If another airship simply
sat idle, hidden in a bank of clouds, they could easily hear another craft’s
gears running. But it also required patience. Thus far, we’d been hunting the
pirate craft for the last three hours without any luck.
I glanced at the map the captain was holding. I
squinted as I tried to make the image come into focus. I hadn’t gotten used to
the eyepatch covering my left eye. Fenton’s attack had not rendered me completely
blind, but it might as well have. My left eye had paled to moon white. All I
could see out of that eye were shapes and some stray colors. My right eye was
still struggling to keep up with its new burden.
Nor had I quite adjusted to the massive scar across
my face. From my brow to my cheek, I now wore a badge of my profession, a gigantic
scar from the werewolf’s claws. On top of
that, where he had scratched me on my hairline, my black locks had turned
white. I stroked my hand across the silvery tuft of fur hanging from my belt. Well,
I’d gotten him in the end. Fenton was dead. Under Lionheart’s new rule, the
realm had been relatively quiet. But there had been a price. I still didn’t
have a partner. Quinn was barely recovered. I was half blind. And if I’d had
bad luck finding a suitable beau before, now my chances were about zero. My
beauty was ruined thanks to Fenton, but at least my hide wasn’t hanging from
his belt.
I refocused on the map. The elusive pirate ship had
been spotted all over the area. However, there had been reports of attacks
taking place above the Orcadian and Shetland Islands in the last few days.
“Let’s cruise north a little,” Captain Martin
suggested then rang the galley and signaled to the balloonman.
With a lurch—which made my stomach lurch along with
it—the airship moved slowly forward in the fog.
I went to the bow of the ship. Pulling out my new
night array optic, I slipped off the simple leather eyepatch I’d been wearing.
I winced as my left eye adjusted to the mist-shrouded light. There was a soft
glow of gold and pink that made the clouds shimmer as the last rays of sunlight
illuminated the skyline. Blinking to adjust my sight, I looked out at the
horizon. We were floating inside a cloud.
I looked down at the night optic lens. Master Hart
hadn’t been able to repair the one Fenton had broken. Keeping in mind the
condition of my left eye, he’d made me a new one. It was designed to work in daylight
and at night. While it was still handy at night, I felt self-conscious wearing
it during the day. Through the blue-tinted day lens, my white eye was still
visible.
I was about to slip the lens on when in the far off
distance behind us, I heard a pop. And then another.
“Captain?” I called as a flare briefly illuminated
the sky.
“Distress flares. I see them, Agent. Hold on,” he
said then began to bank the ship sharply. He yanked on the bell to the gear galley. “We need speed. Quickly.”
From below the deck of the airship, I heard gears
grind as the galleymen prepared to get the airship up to speed.
I grabbed a supporting rope overhead, willed my
stomach not to empty itself on the deck of the airship, then squinted in the
direction of the flares.
A moment later, I saw a blast of orange light.
Through the still air, I heard the sound of voices, yelling, and gunfire.
The Jacobite
quickly picked up speed. From belowdecks, two Black Watch agents appeared, both
of them carrying massive weapons. Lot of
good they had been so far. Other than looking nice
in their kilts, they’d spent the entire trip playing cards and drinking Scotch.
I didn’t mind much, just felt a bit jealous be left out.
Sliding the optic back into my pocket, I pulled out
my spyglass. Holding on to a rope, I set my right eye on the lens and looked
out. It was hard to see through the fog. I saw the silhouette of the ship under
attack. There was a shadow in the mist as
another ship, the assailant, arrived just off the starboard side of the unlucky
vessel. I could see people—just shadows—swinging through the air as they moved
off the pirate ship and on to the other vessel.
The Jacobite
moved quickly toward the scene.
Once more, a raven flew around the Jacobite. It circled our vessel then headed
back into the mist. As we neared the catastrophe in the making, someone on the
pirate ship blew a horn. The long, lonely sound filled the air with its
sorrowful call. I scanned the ships. The
pirates were shifting goods from the vessel under attack on to their own
airship. And the second ship—the one under attack—was beginning to lose
altitude.
The horn sounded again.
“Ready the guns,” Captain Martin called.
As we neared, I began to feel a tell-tale prickle in
the palms of my hands and the bottom of my feet.
I lowered my spyglass and watched.
My mooneye twitched. Out of habit, I closed my right
eye—I had always favored the left—and looked. There was definitely something odd
about the figures on the deck of the pirate ship. While I couldn’t see more
than their silhouettes, my bad eye spied an
aura of color around them. It quickly became clear that these pirates were not
entirely human.
“Now,” Captain Martin called.
A moment later, a barrage of bullets rattled from
the Jacobite toward the pirate
vessel.
The horn on the pirate vessel sounded once more. I
saw the remaining airship pirates return to their own ship. Then, the pirate
ship began to turn away.
Given it was still foggy, and that the sun would
drop from the horizon any minute, soon we’d be chasing pirates in the dark, a
prospect that didn’t sound a bit appealing.
“They’re retreating,” I called to Captain Martin.
Captain Martin rang the bell in the gear galley. “We need speed.”
“Captain,” the balloonman shouted. “The second
vessel is a shipping craft. Their balloon just caught on fire. They’re going
down, sir. All hands still aboard.”
“Dammit,” the captain swore.
Lifting my spyglass once more, I watched as the
pirate airship turned in the opposite direction. As it did so, three things
became immediately apparent.
First, like all airships, the balloon had a unique
marking. This ship boasted a hammer on the balloon.
And on the pommel of that hammer, was a wolf head.
Second, the long, narrow airship boasted a massive figurehead
at the prow. As the airship turned away
from us, I was able to make out its distinct shape. On the prow of the ship was
a wolf.
And finally, if my itching palms and the shadowy colors on the pirates’ silhouettes weren’t proof enough, when I scanned my spyglass
along the vessel, I spotted a hulking figure standing on the rail. While I
wasn’t able to make out his face, I could see he had long hair which blew in
the breeze. His eyes glimmered a dark, wine-red color.
The elusive pirate must have been watching me. He
lifted his hand in greeting, then the airship turned, gaining altitude as it
went, and disappeared back into the fog.
Meanwhile, the screams from the merchant’s vessel quelled out any hope of pursuit.
There were innocent people on that ship, and if we didn’t move fast to rescue
them, they’d soon be swimming.
“Well, there went your pirates, Agent Louvel,” the captain
called.
“Those weren’t pirates,” the balloonman corrected.
I looked up at him. “No?”
The man shook his head. “That was a longship. Norse
construction. No, sir, not pirates. Those were Vikings.”
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