Bounty Hunter

by Michelle E Lowe

  “Ah, bloody hell,” he groaned through his teeth.

  He looked at the firelight and noticed it was white. He reckoned his blood loss had somehow messed with his perception of color. Whatever the shade of the fire, he was certain it would burn through his bonds just the same. He held his hands over the licking flames, close enough to singe the fabric of his scarf without burning the hell out of it while it was wrapped tightly around his wrists. As he worked to adjust to the intense heat, that odd scratching noise returned. He switched his attention to the ground where a small area of sandy floor caved in just before long-clawed feet broke through. A snout emerged, sniffing about as a hairless head popped up.

  “Is that a mole?” Pierce whispered to himself.

  The pink and grey wrinkly creature pulled its way out of the earth and wobbled aimlessly while sniffing the ground with its piggish snout. The mole came across some of Pierce’s blood and jumped right off the ground when its nose touched it. It tilted its head up, sniffing the air with whiskers twitching. Finally, it turned and waddled toward him. It tried climbing Pierce’s leg and fell flat on its back. It rolled over onto its feet and tried again.

  “Oi, all right, you ugly little cocker.” He cupped it in his hands. “You want to go over to the other side?”

  Pierce liked animals and always felt his spirits lift when around them, even squinty-eyed little shriveled-up-looking creatures like the mole. He handled it with care and hoped it wouldn’t panic and sink its long front teeth into him as he transported it from one side to the other. As he did so, Shyheim entered the chamber.

  “You’re awake,” he observed, sounding mournful.

  “Oui,” Pierce answered, holding the mole up. “This mole woke me.”

  Shyheim approached, and when he did, Pierce spotted the knife in his hand. The blade was scorched black by the fire from earlier.

  “Erm,” Pierce said nervously. “Where did you go?”

  Shyheim shifted his sights away from the mole. He seemed tired, as though he’d traveled for a long time. It made Pierce wonder what time it was.

  “I sought advice.” Shyheim returned his attention to the mole and said, “Sun Catcher?”

  “Pardon?” Pierce inquired. “Are you speaking to the mole?”

  The little creature turned its head to Shyheim and squeaked as though responding. In his own language, Shyheim spoke to it. It sounded serious. Shyheim’s eyes grew wide.

  “What?” Pierce demanded.

  Shyheim gave him no answer, only said something else to the mole. With a final squeak, the mole leaped from Pierce’s hands and dug back into the ground.

  “What was that about?” Pierce asked.

  Shyheim looked at him a moment before abruptly approaching with the knife. Pierce scooted away, thinking he was about to be stabbed. Shyheim seized his wrists and cut his bonds.

  “You need to leave,” Shyheim declared, untying the belt around his ankles.

  Pierce was more than confused—he was utterly lost.

  “What did you and the mole talk about?”

  Shyheim grabbed hold of Pierce’s arm and yanked him to his feet.

  “Ouch!” Pierce complained.

  Shyheim grabbed the shirt and vest off the ground and pushed them into his arms. “Follow me.”

  They left the cave and walked in silence for a long time. Pierce would have spouted off a series of questions if Shyheim had not advised him to be quiet in case any of his Shawnee brothers were creeping about. Eventually, they stopped.

  “Here,” Shyheim offered, handing Pierce his revolver. “Stay on the road. It will lead you to the Apache village.”

  Pierce reckoned the figure-eight brand had given him away.

  “What did you find out?” Pierce asked. “What’s going on?”

  Shyheim was silent a moment. “If I, or anyone outside of your relations, kills you, the entire world will be in danger. It is proclaimed by the rules written by the Priest.”

  “Priest? What priest?”

  “Just go,” Shyheim urged. “And for the sake of everyone on this planet and beyond, stay alive.”

  Pierce didn’t think he would get much more out of Shyheim. Instead, he walked down the dark and desolate road. He couldn’t help but wonder what the hell Shyheim was talking about. What priest? And why was his survival so important to the world? He chalked it up to the man being a complete loon.

  After a while, he came across his horse.

  “You lousy coward,” he grunted, feeling around the saddle until he found the canteen.

  He drank water for the first time in nearly a day. It washed over his parched insides and made them spring to life.

  * * *

  Dawn had broken by the time he reached the Apache village. He went straight for his hut. When he got there, his mother was exiting.

  “Pierce!” she called out. “Thank goodness you’re here.”

  “I almost didn’t make it back. I was shot by the Shawnee. I’ll tell you about it in a little while. Is Taisia sleeping? I need to speak to her.”

  “No,” she said, her voice quavering. “We went out looking for you, but we were attacked. Pierce, they have taken Taisia!”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Ada

  Emma sat inside the small café where she and Gabriela had gone to every morning for tea and coffee. This would be the final visit to the café for Emma. She was set to head back to San Clemente to rejoin Gabriela. She thought about saying goodbye to Jaxton, but she didn’t want to risk running into Pierce, knowing they were meeting up to continue the hunt.

  After leaving Pierce’s hotel room, Emma went for a long walk around the city. She had a lot to think about, and in the end, she had decided to let Pierce go. It was nobody’s fault for the way she felt, but it was up to her regarding of what to do about it. Pierce wasn’t going to even lay with her, much less leave his wife, and it wasn’t until he rejected her that she had finally accepted it. She remembered what he had told her.

  You’re a genius. And you’re going to continue your journey and create many wonderful things.

  Emma had acted foolishly in the last few days, but she was a genius, nonetheless.

  She sipped her coffee as she read more of Saints’ records. The magnitude of his work would have been unbelievable if she hadn’t seen it firsthand. To build living hybrids and use the dead as machines? Such things could change the world forever!

  “Emma?” came a familiar voice.

  Emma raised her chin from the notes to see Gabriela standing by the table.

  “Gabriela? I thought you left days ago.”

  “I decided to stay.”

  “Why?”

  Gabriela chewed her bottom lip. It seemed as though she had something difficult to say. In the end, Emma decided it didn’t matter. She was just happy to see her. They had always worked well together and had invented many innovative things. Gabriela was also her friend, and nowhere on Earth would Emma find another such as her.

  “Sit down,” Emma invited. “I want to show you something.”

  Gabriela took a seat across the table from her. Emma slid the journal forward. Printed on the page was the diagram of the Machine Man.

  “What’s this?” Gabriela asked.

  A breathtaking smile came over Emma’s face. “It’s our contribution to the Age of the Machine.”

  The two friends sat, drinking their tea and coffee, while they discussed how they would begin their new project.

  * * *

  “What do you mean they’ve taken Taisia, Mum?” Pierce asked in a panic. “Who took her?” His stress level increased and crashed over him as hard as a concrete wall. “Where is my wife?”

  “I don’t know!” Nona cried out.

  Apparently, she was pretty stressed herself.

  “What did they look like?” he asked more calmly.

  Nona rubbed her forehead. The strain of the entire experience had seemed to have aged her.

  “There were several of them. They d
id not appear to be from here. They were travelers—nomads.”

  “Nomads?”

  Jasper exited the hut. He was supporting himself with a crutch made of nothing more than a branch and cloth padding on the top. Both of his hands were bandaged.

  “Jasper,” Nona said, helping to hold him up. “You shouldn’t be on your feet.”

  “What the bloody hell happened to you, Dad?”

  “Your father suffered a broken leg trying to save her,” Nona explained, looking fondly at her husband.

  “Aye, and to make matters worse, our horses ran off. We had to walk back, which, with my busted leg, took us some time.”

  His father looked like he’d been in a bar fight.

  “What exactly happened?” Pierce demanded. “Tell me more about these nomads.”

  “They had a leader. A tall, Arabian bugger,” Jasper explained. “Gog was his name. He was the one who kidnapped Taisia.”

  Bloody hell! Pierce thought. Could it be the same bloke I saw at the square? Was he actually there in the sandstorm?

  “Before we left to find you,” Nona explained, “Taisia told us Gog came to her. She claimed he’d asked her to be his wife.”

  Pierce honestly didn’t believe the news could get any worse.

  “His wife?” he yelled out, gripping his hair with his good hand. “And you didn’t see where they went?”

  “They moved quickly,” his mother said. “Gog had some sort of power. He made Taisia faint, and when he lifted her into his arms, I ran to stop him. A couple of his nomads held me back until Gog mounted his horse and rode off. Then they were gone, all of them, just like that. Vanished. Except Gog and Taisia, who were already riding away.”

  Pierce wondered why Gog hadn’t vanished with his tribe.

  “We’ve told all this to Grandmother Fey,” Nona went on. “She’s inside her hut, trying to locate Taisia.”

  * * *

  Élie Fey sat with her eyes shut in front of the fire that burned in the center of the hut. She looked into the future beyond Taisia’s kidnapping. She saw nothing. She tried the present. Again, she saw only darkness. Not a single pathway leading to Taisia had emerged. Most people had many paths splintering into different directions. Anything could change the course of an individual’s life. But, for Taisia, there were no paths. It was as if she had never existed.

  Gog must have known about Élie and blocked her, severing all ties. He was most certainly clever. He had stayed undetected to the spirits who would have warned Sees Beyond when he came to Tarak. Élie’s own spirits were unable to locate them. Wherever they had gone, she only hoped they were earthbound. She remembered Nona and Jasper’s description of the nomads and knew exactly who to call on.

  “Ada. I call upon you. May we speak?”

  There was silence for a long while.

  “Bon matin, Élie Fey,” came a voice in the dark.

  Élie sucked in a deep breath of relief and opened her eyes.

  “Bon matin, Ada. Merci for coming.”

  “I admit, I’m rather surprised you have summoned me.”

  Ada looked exactly as she had the night Élie saw her in Guaymas. The firelight did not touch her, for she wasn’t a solid form to be touched, yet Élie saw her well enough.

  “I need your help,” Élie confessed.

  “What is it that I can help you with?”

  Élie nervously stood. “I must ask you about Gog. Are you aware of the woman he has taken?”

  Ada snorted. “The mortal girl? The one with child? Oui. Gog has claimed her as his own.”

  Élie was on the cusp of learning about Taisia’s location, and she greatly feared any wrong word could cause her to lose such information. Taisia was like a granddaughter to her. She had become a vital part to the family, and losing her would be a devastation that none of them would ever recover from, especially Pierce, who had fused his own happiness and well-being to her very existence. The entire future of their family weighed heavily on this meeting between the wise woman and Goth ghost.

  “I know,” Élie replied, striving to remain calm. “She is the wife of my grandson. Gog has stolen her from him.”

  Élie had no idea what level of sympathy the woman might hold. For all she knew, Ada had been with Gog when Taisia was taken.

  Ada tilted her head sideways. “The woman is part of your family?”

  “Oui. And she is much loved by us. We want Taisia returned. Her husband needs her. Can you tell me where Gog has taken her, s’il vous plait?”

  The ghost considered the request.

  “I beg you,” Élie pleaded. “Taisia doesn’t belong with Gog when her heart belongs to another.”

  Ada remained unmoving for a bit longer before nodding. “I believe you’re right. When she arrived at our camp, she was crying and begging to be taken back. Gog did something to her mind to make her stop.”

  “Oh, no,” Élie gasped, fearing the worst. “Where are they? Have they left Mexico? Are they still on this planet?”

  Ada arched an eyebrow. “And I thought you were a wise woman. Of course, we’re still here. It is far too dangerous for mortals to travel like those with such capabilities.”

  Élie remembered. Skipping through spaces, even in short distances, wreaked havoc on bodies that weren’t equipped for it. To journey so rapidly from one place to another, cutting through anything standing in the way with such speed that they appeared to have vanished could easily prove fatal to mortal humans—even an enchantress like Élie. The act of vanishing was merely having the talent to transfer oneself by breaking into tiny particles and then rematerializing at the place of choice. Most supernatural beings possessed this talent, and therefore, were not negatively affected, unlike those who could not naturally splinter themselves into whisking fibers. Survivors had been known to go mad from the experience.

  “Gog does not want his prize, or the unborn she carries, harmed,” Ada explained. “But, to reach them, you must travel quickly, for we cover hundreds of miles in a single day.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Heading north up the coast. We’re past Bahía Kino. For the woman’s sake, we’re taking the highway, which is the smoothest route. Gog wishes to reach the uncharted territory of the northern wilderness.”

  “Bahía Kino? How far is that?”

  “One hundred and eighteen miles. The crossing means going around mountainous areas. Quite the head start, oui?”

  “It is,” Élie agreed with despair. “Pierce will never be able to catch up.”

  “And I am but a phantom. It wouldn’t matter if he was willing to risk vanishing, for I cannot bring him there.”

  “He would risk it,” Élie stated. “Pierce will do whatever it takes to bring Taisia home, even if it kills him. That is how much he loves her, Ada.”

  Élie had already sensed Pierce’s return to the village, yet he still would not be able to ride fast enough to catch up to them even if he had the strongest and fastest horse on earth.

  Ada sighed. “Perhaps I can stall them.”

  “Stall them?”

  “Oui. I’ll find a way to convince Gog to stop for a time. It may give your grandson a chance, although I have no idea what he is capable of doing once he reaches us.”

  “Merci, Ada.”

  The Goth ghost began to fade. “He best hurry, for I am uncertain how long I can hold them.”

  * * *

  “They’re how far?” Pierce asked when Grandmother Fey told him inside his hut.

  “Over a hundred miles,” she repeated. “The distance is mainly due to the mountains. Ada will stall them, but only briefly. You have little time to reach them.”

  Pierce considered the journey he would need to make if he wanted to catch up. He’d most likely get lost in the vast American wilderness, where chances of him surviving would be next to nil.

  As an outlaw, Pierce stayed on the move, but he was no woodsman. Living off the land while tracking down Mr. Wife Stealer would be damn near impossible—not to
mention the seasons were changing and winter was on its way. He’d chance it, regardless. Taisia was everything in his little world, as was his unborn child. But, before he went charging off like bloody Galahad, he needed to think up a plan of action.

  “I need to return to Guaymas,” he announced, putting on his top hat.

  His father cocked his head sideways. “Guaymas?”

  Pierce gave him no answer as he raced outside and headed for the horses.

  “Landcross!” yelled Chief Sea Wind.

  “Chief, I can’t chat. Taisia has been taken.”

  “We know,” Waves of Strength said, coming up beside her husband. “Itza-chu came to the ship and told us.”

  Itza-chu appeared by her side with First Mate Wind in the Sails, Second Mate Waban, and Sees Beyond.

  “We’re coming with you, Landcross,” Chief Sea Wind stated.

  Pierce wouldn’t have protested even if he’d wanted to. He was over the moon to have them with him.

  “Grand,” he beamed excitedly. “We need to get to Guaymas. C’mon!”

  They began their ride toward the city. His wounded shoulder burned and throbbed, forcing him to keep his arm held close to his side. It surprised Pierce that his sea-going mates kept up with the steady riding. He imagined some sore arses, come the following morning.

  After a while, they spied rising smoke.

  “What is that?” Itza-chu said when the group had slowed their horses.

  As they drew closer, they found fire engulfing the remains of a large wagon. Nearby was something much more disturbing.

  “Fuckin’ hell,” Pierce gasped. “Itza-chu! It’s Jaxton!”

  He dismounted his horse and rushed over. Jaxton hung by the neck from a leafless tree, his body nearly unrecognizable. His hand had been hacked off and his boots were missing. There were many stab wounds puncturing his body and his face was bruised and had deep gashes. He was dirty, his tacky plaid suit in tatters. A rope was tied around one of his ankles. Somebody had dragged him here by horse. Pinned to his jacket lapel was a piece of paper reading “Fraude.”