“So, why is there another dress in the trunk?” Clara asked. Curiouser and curiouser.

Clara cocked a brow and took the second dress out. The ruffled bottom was like the one she bought. However, the differences were not obvious until it hung loosely from the hanger.

“I’d be showing an awful lot of skin…” Clara said before smirking.

As she uttered that last word a piece of paper fell to the ground. She picked up the note, which read: They’ll be too busy staring at your bare back and tits to see what you’re packing.

“…which is the point,” Clara said with a smile.

Everything she needed was inside. These models were common in her day and served as portable closets. The main compartment contained her gown, shoes, and a box for her chapeau.

Within, she also found two pistols, ten full magazines, and an equal number of throwing knives. Every weapon was sheathed or holstered, enabling her to carry them on her outer thighs. The ruffled lower half of the dress would conceal their presence.

While some preferred to wear weapons on their inner thigh to reduce the chances of discovery during a pat down, Clara found the loss of mobility problematic. Not to mention I’d end up walking like a cowboy.

“My lord…why didn’t I see this before?” Evelyn asked herself. “You’re jealous of her!”

“No,” Marc said. “I—”

“Mon cher,” Evelyn said. “I would never leave you.”

“Never?” Marc confirmed.

“Never,” Evelyn said. “We complete one another. Now, let’s get going before airport security asks questions.”

Marc nodded and opened the door to the limousine. Evelyn flashed him another smile and took her seat. While he walked around to the driver’s side door, she poured herself a glass of wine and sunk back into her seat.

“Never leaving you doesn’t mean that I won’t fall for her,” Evelyn whispered before taking a sip.

“You wanted Ada dealt with,” Evelyn said. “Clara will meet up with her soon enough.”

“What if she won’t kill her?”

“You think Ada will change ideals? That she’ll see the light and embrace her sister without using the opportunity to plunge a dagger through the heart?”

“You never know,” Marc said. “She’s a risk as long—”

“My lord…why didn’t I see this before?” Evelyn asked herself. “You’re jealous of her!”

“I’ll miss her,” Evelyn said as the plane rolled down the tarmac.

“You can’t be serious?” Marc asked.

“What?”

She furrowed her brow and pursed her lips as though confused.

“She’s an asset,” Marc said. “Nothing more.”

Evelyn giggled to lighten the mood. While ineffective against Marc, it helped shore up her own mood.

“Have you seen her ass?” Evelyn said right before nibbling on her lower lip.

“Welcome aboard, Miss Grey,” the flight attendant said.

“Thank you.”

She took the nearest seat. Her eyes twinkled, in awe at how far humanity had progressed.

“Please put on your seatbelt,” the attendant added. “We’ll be underway shortly.”

Clara did as requested and sunk into the seat. She peered out the window, spotting Evelyn by the limousine with Marc by her side. This further reminded her that those two shared something that transcended love. Why am I feeling a twinge of jealousy?

“Thank you for this,” Clara said. “I couldn’t have managed all of this without you.”

“De rien, ma chère,” Evelyn answered.

She peered into those deep-green eyes and was tempted to stay. That the feeling was mutual made it worse. They remained like that for several heartbeats before closing the distance between them and falling into an embrace. While their tongues danced, the fires of their desires glowed white hot.

“Miss Grey,” the flight attendant said.

Alas, time could not be ignored, but their hands were interlocked a moment longer. Clara wanted more, but there was no time.

This was a first for Clara. For a woman with wings, manned flight remained a novel experience. In the twenties, she travelled primarily by boat or train, because aircraft were still in their infancy.

She did fly in a Bristol F.2 fighter during the Great War and then rode the pilot shortly after landing. However, this model of aircraft was something else altogether. Clara guessed her high-flying lover would come in his pants at the sight of it… Better than on my dress…

“To what aim?” Eleanor asked.

“We are dealing with souls, long dead, tortured, and lost,” Clara said. “I want to snap them out of their stupor and encourage them to raise hell.”

“What you want is a distraction,” Eleanor accused.

“That too,” Clara admitted. “If I survive my encounter at The Grand, I intend to use the opportunity to convince them to cross over.”

“I am not meant to interfere.”

“Says who?” Clara asked. “There’s nothing natural about The Grand.”

“The gods, for one,” Eleanor responded.

“Gods should care,” Clara said. “I say it’s our duty to help.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Clara said. “Like we helped that poor girl who was impregnated and then killed by her parish priest to keep it a secret.”

“You mean this diversion is nothing more than a perk?” Eleanor asked.

“I see this as an opportunity to repay the staff for a century of unchecked murder.”

“When would you like the show to begin?” Eleanor asked.

“Now, what can you tell me about The Grand?” Clara asked.

“You have been there,” Eleanor replied. “I am frequently there to guide souls.”

“About that,” Clara said. “Have all those souls crossed?”

“No,” Eleanor said flatly.

“I realise this might be hard for you,” Clara said. “I’m not looking to keep score, but I do want to address that mess.”

“How do you plan on doing that?” Eleanor asked.

“We need to rouse them,” Clara said.

“To what aim?” Eleanor asked.