by Logan Jacobs
I saw people start to spill into the street in response to the bell. I managed to knock two men out of our way just with my momentum, but there was no way I could keep doing that until we were clear of the neighborhood. What we needed was something that could get us through the streets even faster, and in most cow towns, that would have been easy enough. But other than the horses that pulled the wagons and cabs around the city, I hadn’t seen much in the way of local equines.
I could tell Sorcha was starting to flag, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep up the dead run either. I saw two men making a coal delivery just ahead, and I slowed down to a quick jog. Sorcha heaved next to me, and I glanced over to make sure she was okay. She nodded as she clutched at her side, and I turned back to look at the wagon. The two men filled up the wheelbarrow again, and then one man pushed it along a narrow path between the two buildings toward the back of the house. While his partner made the delivery, the second man slouched back against the wagon, and swatted at a bug. He ignored the bell that still tolled, as well as our approach.
The horse was actually a decent animal, not exactly a youngster, but still strong and certainly willing to do more than just pull a cart around all day. While Sorcha sidled up to the coal man and started to talk to him about how much she needed a horse in that unmistakable tone, I walked up next to the horse itself and gave it a quick exam.
The horse flicked its ears at me, then watched as I started to release it from the wagon. Its head came up in interest with this new situation, and it let out a whinny. I gave it a pat on the nose, then eased it forward. The coal man never even noticed as he gazed with slack-jawed amazement at the mage. When she saw me climb onto the animal’s back, she gave the coal man a last lovely look, then trotted over to the horse. I held out my hand and helped her climb up behind me.
“What the hell?” an angry voice called out as we started to ride away. I looked back and saw the second coal man wave frantically in our direction while his partner watched our escape with a glazed but happy look.
“Watch for signs!” Sorcha yelled over my shoulder. “Madame said this morning that there were signs for the bridge along the road.”
I nodded and clucked to the horse who seemed happy to be doing something other than just hauling coal. He responded immediately and opened up his gait as we flew down the center of the street. People scattered out of our way, while we swerved around the occasional wagon or cart. I could hear people yelling as we flew by, but I had to admit, it felt good to be back on a horse, with the wind whistling past my ears and the earth flying away beneath my feet.
We managed to cover a lot of ground before the horse started to flag. I slowed it to a trot, then looked over my shoulder. No one had followed us, but I was sure the men who owned the horse would be looking for it. Not to mention the men who wanted to take us into custody and turn us over to the mages.
“That man who recognized us,” I said over my shoulder. “He said he recognized me from a picture that the mages sent by a bird.”
“A lot of the outer sections of the city use birds to send communications,” she replied. “Pigeons for smaller things, larger birds for bigger items.”
“So they could have sent a bird to the Magesterium saying they had seen us,” I pointed out.
Sorcha looked at the sky and then nodded.
“They might have,” she admitted. “Though I don’t know if they’ll get paid if they haven’t actually arrested you. They may wait until they have you in custody.”
The horse snorted and started to walk toward a public well where a small group of women had gathered with various jugs and jars. They watched us approach, then stepped aside as the horse put his nose down to the spout. I helped Sorcha dismount, then hopped off as well. All three of us gulped down water while the women looked on, and while a few looked disgruntled by our appearance, most looked amused and simply stood to the side to see what would happen next.
“Here,” I said to a middle-aged woman who looked like we’d just made her day. I handed her the reins to the horse who gave a quick snort, then leaned over my shoulder to nibble on some fresh-cut herbs she had in her basket.
“Oh,” she said in surprise as she took the leather straps. I gave her a wink, patted the horse, then the mage and I returned to the road and started to walk as calmly as we could toward what we hoped was the bridge.
“Why did we leave the horse?” Sorcha asked.
“Because if they’re following our trail, they’ll think we’re on a horse now,” I explained. “That horse, specifically. If our friend takes him home soon and hides him away somewhere, then they’ll waste a lot of time and effort trying to find him.”
“But we still haven’t made it to the bridge,” she pointed out.
“They’ll have fresher horses,” I said. “Ones that haven’t been pulling a cart all day. They would have caught up to us if we’d stayed on him.”
Sorcha pondered that for a moment, and then I pulled her away from the street as the sound of hooves pounded along behind us. Four men rode past on much faster horses than our steed, and I saw Sorcha realize how close we had come to getting caught.
When the horsemen were out of sight, we stepped back onto the sidewalk. Sorcha pulled the colorful gypsy scarf from her head and tucked it into her pocket. I started to move on, but she tugged on my sleeve and then walked over to a man on the other side of the street. He tottered along the sidewalk, with occasional stops to gain his balance. When Sorcha stopped in front of him, he squinted at her, then gave her a giant smile. I heard Sorcha’s deep voice, though I didn’t catch exactly what she was saying. She waved me over a moment later, and as I joined the pair, the man winked at me.
“It’s a lovely jacket and hat,” Sorcha said in her deep voice as she fingered the sleeve of my jacket.
The man leaned closer to me and ran a finger over the fabric, and my eyes started to water at the whiskey smell. He nodded, then turned his attention to the hat.
“Is it warm?” he asked as he pulled his own hat from his head.
“Absolutely,” I agreed, though I wasn’t sure if the question was about the jacket or the hat, or both.
After a moment’s consideration, the man pulled off his jacket and hat, and handed both to Sorcha. The mage nodded to me, and after I emptied my pockets, I pulled off my jacket and hat and handed them to the man. He sniffed at the jacket, then placed the hat on his head. He tried to put the jacket on by himself, but he only managed to get one sleeve on. Unable to reach the other, he spun around in a circle on the sidewalk.
“Let me,” I said as I placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.
He stopped twirling and let me guide his arm through the other sleeve. He straightened the jacket and looked toward Sorcha. She gave a nod of approval and the man harrumphed. It was tight around his middle, and the sleeves were an inch too short, but otherwise he looked fine. He gave us both a sloppy handshake before walking off.
I looked at my own new hat and jacket and then slipped them on. The jacket was longer than I was used to and came to just past my knees. But the fabric was heavy and warm, and the extra space around the middle left me plenty of places to hide a gun on my belt. The hat was battered and faded from the sun, but it was still intact and sat low enough to help keep my ears warm.
“Well?” I asked Sorcha as I slipped on the jacket and hat.
“It’s you,” she declared with a smile.
Somewhat disguised, we moved along the road in search of one of the fabled signs for the bridge. We were near one of the pre-magic structures known as an overpass when I spotted the first rusty sign. Despite pockmarks and a heavy layer of dirt, the oblong piece of metal was still firmly nailed to a metal pole, and someone had wiped just enough of the grime away to reveal the word bridge and an arrow.
“I don’t believe it,” Sorcha breathed. “We’re going to make it.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that,” a cold voice replied.
We spun around and fo
und ourselves staring at the four men that had ridden past us, and they looked very unhappy about our bit of trickery.
Chapter 16
“Thought you were being so clever, didn’t you?” one of the men sneered. “Ditching the horse. Did you think we wouldn’t figure it out?”
“We hoped,” I replied as I set my feet and watched the other men carefully. They looked like barroom brawlers rather than trained fighters, but they could still be dangerous. My fingers prickled as I tried to decide which gun to summon. One of the handguns, I decided, as I eyed the men.
“Let us pass,” Sorcha commanded as she looked over the group.
For a moment, I thought the men would obey her, and I opened my hand. We started to move around the group, but then I spotted an amulet around one man’s neck. The amulet glowed, and the man grunted.
“Don’t open your mouth, you filthy witch!” the man yelled.
The angry man was barely taller than Sorcha, with short black hair and a tattoo under his eye, and his high-pitched voice shattered whatever hold Sorcha had on the rest of the group. The man lifted his hand as if he intended to backhand Sorcha and the mage cowered back.
I pictured the snub nose revolver in my hand and felt the dimpled grip almost instantly. As the man’s hand came around, I lifted the revolver with both hands and pointed it at the man’s chest. The gun boomed as I pulled the trigger, and the eerie blue flame fanned out for a second.
The man with the tattoo grunted as he swayed for a moment, and then he sank toward the ground. A neat hole appeared in his chest, and blood started to flow down his torso. It dripped onto the road for a heartbeat until the body toppled toward the side.
“Crap!” a man in a slouch hat muttered as he and the other two men stared at the body.
“Nobody said anything about a gun!” a skinny man declared as he started to back away. He held his hands in front of him in surrender as he moved toward his horse.
“All I really need to do is keep you here until the mages arrive!” slouch hat shouted as he tried to duck down. “Word went out as soon as you were recognized.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” I replied as I turned the gun toward him.
Slouch hat had just enough time to lose the smirk before the snub nose boomed once more. The sound rattled inside my head, even after the thunder and flame had faded from the street. The recoil jerked at my arms, but I held steady as the bullet screamed toward its target.
Slouch hat’s demise was less dramatic than some others. One minute he stood in the road and then he suddenly flopped to the ground, like all the air had been sucked from his lungs. Blood spewed from his chest as he crumpled to the dirt and left a flower pattern around his body.
I caught the sound of hooves and looked up to see the other two men riding away. For a moment, I raised the gun, but I didn’t want to shoot the horses, and we needed every second we had to get to the bridge.
“Come on,” I urged Sorcha as I grabbed the machete from slouch hat’s hand and tucked it into my own belt.
We started to run again, toward the road that ran beneath the overpass. More signs for the bridge appeared, all with an arrow that pointed straight onward.
And then a great arch appeared, steel gray rather than the brown stone of the Brook Island bridge. It was even taller, though, and for the first time, I could truly appreciate the word skyscraper.
We slowed for a moment, just to stare at this incredible structure, and then we followed the arrow up a ramp. We trudged up the crumbling roadway until we were on a flat road again, and it was hard not to stare in disbelief. A second great arch stood part way across the river, nearly a mile away. Between the two arches laid a road wider than most in the city. It was all held aloft by a pair of steel loops that ran between the two arches and served as the anchor point for the cables that lined our escape path. A battered sign welcomed us to the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge.
“Oh,” Sorcha said as she read the sign. “This is good, I think. Arthur and Bunda sometimes talked about this bridge.”
“Really?” I asked in surprise.
“They both rode across it in cars when they were kids,” Sorcha explained. “They both talked about how exciting that was.”
“Imagine what it must have looked like when it was whole,” I said as we started to walk. “I’d probably get excited, too.”
“Arthur once said that the bridge is complete, but the island at the other end was flooded,” Sorcha mused. “I guess it was never recovered.”
“Why wouldn’t they want to raise it?” I asked. “They put all that effort into saving the other islands.”
“Maybe it was too far from the others,” she suggested. “Or maybe it wasn’t that big.”
“But it must have been important if they built such an incredible bridge to get there,” I pondered.
“I really don’t know anything else,” Sorcha sighed. “That’s all Arthur ever said about it.”
“Well, maybe there will be a clue on the other side,” I replied. “But first we have to get there. Do you think you could jog a little?”
“Ugh, I can’t believe people used to run for fun,” she remarked, but we both picked up the pace. Our footsteps were the only other sound besides the wind that blew across the span. At this height over the river, it was strong enough to push us around, and our jog began to feel more like a slog.
We were close to the second arch when Sorcha stopped and looked behind us. She cocked her head to the side for a moment and then spun around.
“They’re coming,” she yelled as she started to run again.
I looked back toward Brook Island and tried to peer through the thin mist that drifted near the roadway.
“Hex!” Sorcha called when she realized I hadn’t moved.
I started after her, then stopped again when I heard something bark.
“Get to the end of the bridge,” I ordered as I ran toward her. “Do whatever you need to do to start the spell. I’ll hold them off.”
“We should stay together,” she protested.
My response was cut off by a howl, and then a round of barking. I looked back to see six red-robed mages bearing down on us, each holding the reins of a long-snouted and angry dog. They had made it up the ramp, but they were still over a hundred yards away. They stopped in the middle of the road, well beyond the range of the Colt and snub nose but not the rifle.
“There will be others coming soon now that they’ve seen us,” Sorcha said with an edge of panic.
“Surrender, gun mage!” one of the mages demanded. He looked and sounded like a snake oil salesman, with slicked back hair, a smooth yet chipper voice, and a mouthful of perfect teeth.
“Keep going,” I told Sorcha as I gave her a gentle push. “I’ll hold them off.”
“Are you sure?” Sorcha asked as she glanced toward the mages.
“Yes,” I assured as I nudged her again.
Sorcha took off then and I tucked the snub nose into my waistband since they were so far away and tried to create the rifle instead. But the smooth stock of the Ruger refused to appear and I realized it hadn’t been twenty-four hours since I fired the last shot during the mage battle at the school.
Shit.
I snarled in frustration and then pictured the Colt revolver instead. The tingle gave way to the comforting feel of the revolver’s grip, and I let out a sigh of relief as the familiar power of the large handgun snaked its way up my arm.
The dogs and mages were still too far away to take a comfortable shot, even with the Colt revolver. I needed to draw them closer, so I smiled at the red robes and lifted the machete while I kept my Colt low and out of sight.
“I won’t let you take me in,” I declared. “You’ll have to kill me.”
“No one wants to kill you, gun mage,” the salesman said in a slick voice.
“Then why are you chasing me?” I demanded as I tried to decide who or what to shoot first. The leader was tempting, but I had a feeling he would send the others
in first to do the dirty work. Actually, he would send the dogs in first, and I tried to guess which one of the snarling canines was also the fastest.
“To protect you from yourself,” the salesman cooed. “I’m sure you didn’t intend to shoot that man near the Red Stallion. A petty thief, part of a gang that worked that area. Did he attack you?”
I shrugged, since I wasn’t sure how much he really knew, and it really didn’t matter. I let him smirk as I assessed the dogs and settled on a long-legged brute with cropped ears. It strained against its leash, and I had no doubt it would be the first to throw itself toward me when the command was given.
“No matter, his death was no loss,” the salesman continued. “If it weren’t for the gun, no one would have bothered investigating. But you can see, just from that one incident, can’t you, why you must be kept in a protected place? And how many people have you shot since then? This is the power and the danger of guns, and we only want to help you learn how to fight that danger.”
“I don’t need your help,” I finally declared.
“No?” the man said as he looked me over. “And what do you know about guns or magic?”
I didn’t respond. I focused all my attention on the canines and waited for the leashes to drop.
The salesman gave me a feral smile, then clucked to his dog. All the animals went silent and their ears swiveled toward the red robe to await his next command.
“Come quietly with me now,” the mage suggested, “and we’ll leave your friend alone.”
“I doubt that,” I replied. “You’ll have to kill us both because neither of us is going with you.”
I slipped the Colt from behind my back and pointed it at the salesman, but he didn’t flinch. Two of the dogs whined, and I guessed their masters’ tension had probably spiked. Several heartbeats passed, and the only sound was the wind and the humming of the cables.
“So be it,” the man growled.