Free Captain Albion Clemens and The Future that Never Was: A Steampunk Novel! (Lands Beyond Book 1) by Kin Law

been a long shot. I had about as well a chance of surviving up here, in the care of a literal cutthroat, than down on the ground with the editorial breed. “My work is considered… subversive.”
    “Progressive would have been my choice,” Clemens said. He rubbed his temple thoughtfully. “Don’t you have an article to be writing?”
    “I told my editor I would deliver a piece on the cutpurses of England. What greater cutpurse is there than the Bandit of Budapest, the Crook Cathay, the Kleptomaniac of Kyoto?”
    “All right, I get your point!” Clemens abruptly protested. “Blue blazes, how many names have they for me?”
    “I threw in a few of my own,” I admitted. “Pyongyang Purloiner came to mind.”
    “Let’s not go there today,” the Oriental said, standing up. “What say you? Stay on with us, until your article is written? I daresay there’s a mystery in it. My Captain Sam appears to have taken something of extreme value, at least according to the cheeky rozzer down in my brig. He also seems to be involved in the theft of a major British monument, if you believe such a thing can be done.”
    I winced as his hand emerged from his pocket, but no heavy black pistol was attached. Sheepishly, I reached out to take his hand.
    “To a plentiful partnership,” I said.
    “To not getting hanged,” he said, grinning.
    And it was so. Little could I know, but from that moment on, I became a member of the Huckleberry’s crew.
     
    4.3: Figure-Four Holds {Rosa}
 
                  The small, unremarkable bottle ginger exiting the galley didn’t surprise me so much as Albion’s expression beside him. There were few in the skies I could not read. My Captain could evade my piercing gaze, and often did. Today, there was obvious hope glinting out of his eyes.
    We had spent the better part of the last two years hunting Albion’s adoptive father. I’d joined him long before, and since the news of Samuel’s return, we had done far less pirating than I preferred. I was starting to think I should never have joined this silly crew, handsome Captain or no. Had we finally stumbled across a clue? It would lift the dark cloud hanging over his brow, at the least.
                  “Hello there gorgeous. I see you’ve caught yourself a tabby, Alby,” I said, drawing their attention with a flick of my skirts.
    I was wearing several layers of them, an embroidered scene on a green field, over Egyptian cotton and French lace, bound under a brazenly immodest bodice. My wrists were dabbed with jasmine, wafting where I wished. My lashes twinkled with dewdrop rhinestones, and a headscarf matchin g the skirts held back my lush toffee locks. All the fabric hid my numerous barbs and blades neatly.
    All right, I was trying. I hadn’t seen Albion in a week, and I knew the English tended towards a pasty paleness surely irresistible to his Asiatic persuasion. It was my latest theory. No matter how much of my mocha skin I showed him, nothing seemed to shake his ascetic attitude towards me. It was the dancer in me to include the other man in my audience, I admit, but my vanity wasn’t for naught. The resulting slack-jawed stare from the ginger was worth it. As usual, Albion’s own stone stare gave no hint of even the slightest appreciation. Prick.
                  “Rosa Marija, this is Elric Blair. She is my helmswoman and first mate. Rosa, there was a bit of altercation, but the newspaper man might be able to help us find Captain Sam.”
                  “I suppose the Inspector might be of more assistance,” Blair said, “but I have a notion.”
                  “A cat and a hound. You have been busy,” I interjected. “When did we start giving the pigs room and board?”
                  “I know you’re not keen on it,” Albion said, “But she is no ordinary Inspector. She has ties to the Queen of England, and if what we’re hearing is true, we might