Jack Of All Trades ✓ | steampunk, dragons, trickery

Chapter 12.1: No Gallery for Jack

It was the day of the gallery, a week later. Jack was smiling, but standing stiff, frozen in his spot. Rain splattered against the windows and wind rattled them. Mister Weatherbee stood before him like a menacing wolf protecting its pups. Maggie and Lucie stood behind them. Maggie especially looked hurt.

"Maggie," Jack began in haste, "I didn't fool you. This isn't true what your fath—"

"You live at em-Hawthorn place?" Mister Weatherbee curled his lip. "Cult!"

Jack shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about. I really had no idea who Mister and Missus Hawthorn were." And he didn't have any idea that Maggie was a Weatherbee. There was zero resemblance.

But the stony-faced man didn't budge. He was convinced Jack Montague was trying to brainwash his daughters and his wife into, what he called, 'the Hawthorn cult'. And as a firm protector of people from that supposed cult, and as the highest donor of the Montefort Gallery, Mister Weatherbee apparently had authority to throw Jack out.

All the artists in the gallery had stopped talking. Jack could feel their eyes on him. How had he lost control of the situation so quickly? He couldn't figure people out. Mister Weatherbee was fuming, Maggie was crying into Lucie's arms without much sound but a few gasps, and Agatha, their mother shook her head in disapproval.

I have to save this. I'm Jack Ogs...Montague. I can save any situation. Turn it around to my favor. He licked his lips. Jack of all trades. Come on. He looked up at the towering Mister Weatherbee, and suddenly he also saw a towering Serena, telling him to go because Eli and Jett were not important to him. Jack shoved the image away.

"Sir, surely we can work something out. I have all this artwork that is worth as much as your airship. Perhaps if someone buys it, I could pay you back and then be off on my dandy—"

Mister Weatherbee grabbed Jack by the wrist, yanked open the door, and threw him out into the rainy streets.

"And never show your moronic face before me again!"

The door slammed as Jack got to his feet. With a sigh, he wandered the streets in hopes that maybe after a bit Mister Weatherbee would have cooled off and could listen to reasoning. But when Jack returned after a half hour of wandering, it was the same thing of yelling at him until Charlie Montefort herself came to lead Mister Weatherbee away. After giving him to his wife, Charlie turned to Jack.

"I'm sorry. We can't take Hawthorns."

"But I'm—what about my artwork?"

"You are not allowed inside." She barred the way. What was she doing? If they didn't want it, he'd just take it all back and sell it elsewhere.

"You can't go in. We will take care of it."

His heart sank. "You'll burn it?"

"In a cleansing bonfire, as per protocols."

Jack furrowed his brows. He hadn't heard of Miremand being so superstitious. "Set by whom?"

"Em-govenor."

The door slammed in his face, leaving him out in the rain. Jack stuffed his hands in his pockets feeling two things—his dagger in the special pouch, and the keys to the airship. He smirked and went around back. One guard stood, but the next moment he didn't. After rinsing the blood off the dagger, Jack stole away the airship. It didn't take long for sirens to fill the air.

Dungs and apples. Not again. Jack decided not to return to the mansion. He hid the airship in the dark clouds, waiting for the sirens to pass, hoping they wouldn't find him.

Since he couldn't go to the mansion, Jack had nowhere else to turn to. That was going to be his first long-term stay after spending a month in a log house. Being so far south meant the rains were less acidic although less frequent. And when it rained, it poured. He had to find shelter. And food. His stomach growled. Mister Weatherbee came in at the worst time. It was just as the dinner banquet was about the start.

The Kaleidoscope, I wonder... Jack bit his lip. He wasn't one to return to pasts he no longer belonged to, but maybe he could get Simon to help him out like old times? The old man probably missed him, keeping the Kaleidoscope open all on his own. Simon probably wished Jack would return. Jack was about the only one Simon talked to on top of being his only business partner. 

But returning to Amsgeld would be dangerous. Time might have passed, but people would remember him even if his hair was long. He would arrive at night then. Sneak around and find Simon. Maybe they could get a drink and talk about old times.

And restarting together? It was a tempting thought. Jack toyed with the idea until the sirens faded, giving up the search for now. Thunder rumbled around him as he set the ship due course north for Amsgeld in the country of Endil.