Gaslit Revolution

by Jason Gilbert

  “It’s Lieutenant,” Danwood corrected. “And not likely. Just routine questioning. Considering you found a body in front of your place, I’m sure you’ve got lots to tell me.”

  Antonia took her napkin out of her lap and plopped it down on the table beside her plate. Sandra looked at her.

  “Should we go inside, Miss Antonia?”

  Antonia looked at her.

  “No,” she said. “I need witnesses.” She looked at Danwood. “Ask away, Lieutenant. It’s not like I’m trying to eat my breakfast with my girls or anything.”

  “We’ll start with whether or not you’ve heard anything about Kane Shepherd and Tabitha Drake coming back to New Chicago,” Danwood said.

  “Right to the point, the asshole,” Kane muttered.

  “What?” Tabitha said.

  Kane shook his head.

  “He’s already grilling Antonia about us. Let me listen.”

  Antonia glared at Danwood.

  “What in the hell does that have to do with the dead body in front of my house this morning?” she said. “You suspect two people ain’t been here in weeks? Makes about as much sense as giving you a badge.”

  “Watch it, Boudreaux,” Danwood said, pointing his cigar at her. “You’re already on thin ice.”

  “For what?”

  “You’re suspected of aiding Kane Shepherd and Tabitha Drake in their escape from police custody. So, if I were you, I’d keep that mouth of yours in check before you end of tripping over it.”

  Antonia stood, her hands on her hips as she glowered down at Danwood.

  “You gonna come to my house and talk to me like that?”

  “You’re goddamned right, I am,” Danwood said, pointing at her. “I know good and goddamned well you hear things on the street. Don’t even try to bullshit me.”

  “Don’t you dare cuss me, young man,” Antonia shot back. “I ain’t got time for that mess, and I don’t tolerate nobody disrespectin’ me or takin’ the Lord’s name in vain at my own house. My own daughter don’t talk to me like that! Who are you?”

  Danwood chuckled.

  “I know about your daughter, Boudreaux,” he said, taking a puff on his cigar. “Your late daughter.”

  Antonia went silent, standing tall, her face expressionless. Sandra stepped back as Chloe put her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide. Antonia made her way to the steps, taking them slowly as she approached Danwood. Even Kane braced for impact. The cut was low, even for Danwood.

  Antonia put her face inches from his.

  “I’m sure your mother is ashamed of you, Charles Danwood,” she said, her eyes locked on Danwood, wide with fury, her tone calm but sharp. “And if she is no longer with us, I pray that she don’t see the filth, and the lowlife that her little boy became. Because I am certain, with every fiber in my body, that that poor woman did not raise her baby boy into the man I see bringin’ a stink to my home. She ain’t do that. That’s money, did that. Now, I don’t know what you think I know, but I do know that the Revolution is done. And I do know that you gonna take your crooked ass off my lawn, and you ain’t comin’ back. Ain’t nobody on the force welcome here no more. And if they ask why, send ‘em here and I’ll tell ‘em.”

  Danwood grunted, took the cigar out of his mouth, dropped it on the ground at Antonia’s feet, and stamped it out.

  “This isn’t over,” he said, getting right back in her face.

  “Yes, it is,” Antonia said, not backing down.

  Danwood shook his head and turned away from her, motioning to the other two officers to follow him back to the police carriage. Antonia glared at him the entire way, not taking her eyes off the carriage until it took a corner and was gone. She spoke in a low voice.

  “Kane,” she said. “I know you can hear me. I probably just invited a raid on my house. Ain’t much time left. Krieg knows somethin’ about the murders. Go talk to him. And put your beef with him aside. It’ll make it easier.”

  Kane pulled his hearing back and wiped his amulet clean, killing his sight spell as he tuned to Tabitha.

  “That was close,” she said. She shuddered. “Gods, I hate that man.”

  Kane nodded, turned away from her as he went toward what used to be the kitchen in the old house.

  Krieg.

  “Krieg was also an asset,” Sarah, the Mors Rebrum, had said during her confession. “I would drain the girls, take their blood. Fuel my power while keeping the Oligarch intelligence quiet from the Revolution. Krieg would take them back to the morgue and erase the paper trail. His only real job for me, in particular, was making sure you stayed involved.”

  She’d told him that before trying to kill him. Before he’d killed her.

  Both Krieg and Marta betrayed him. Both were his allies in the police department. Honest, good people.

  Both had handed him to the Mors Rebrum.

  Marta had done it to protect her brother. Herself. Sarah Broussard had drained Marta to death, taken all of her blood, and thrown her body into the fire.

  But Krieg was still alive.

  And had answers.

  Kane figured he didn’t have any choice but to take Tabitha with him. Leaving her alone was too risky. The police would be looking around Hidden Valley in droves soon, and abandoned structures would be at the top of their lists.

  Not that Kane doubted that Tabitha could take care of herself if she managed to get caught. She’d proven herself time and time again. She was good in a fight. But a wrong move could start, open battle between her and the police, could prove deadly for both them and the people of Hidden Valley. Too much could happen in the crossfire, including a bullet meant for Tabitha finding its mark from a police marksman.

  Magicians were powerful. Formidable. Not bulletproof.

  The morgue was cold, dark and empty as Kane waited in the shadows, both he and Tabitha cloaked under his spell. A body lay on the slab, the man from Antonia’s. Krieg hadn’t started on him yet, hadn’t even gotten his clothing off. Kane stared at the corpse, his Ethereal Sight engaged as he tried to look for any distinguishing marks that might help him figure out why he’d been a target for the shooter in the street.

  No tattoos. No brands. A lot of bruising and scars. Life had beaten this man, and the fresh injuries indicated that his assailant also took a turn at him before putting a bullet in his brain. Had he been a soldier? No. He would at least have a tattoo of his garrison number on his bicep.

  “I don’t like this place, Kane,” Tabitha whispered. “It’s cold.”

  Kane raised an eyebrow as he spoke.

  “I thought you were cold-natured.”

  “Ha-ha,” she said, her tone sarcastic as she shoved his arm. “A morgue. I’ve been asking for Ralphie’s pancakes for weeks, and you bring me to a morgue. How romantic.”

  Kane kept studying the body.

  “How would I take you to breakfast without being noticed?” he asked.

  “You can trust Bette, silly,” Tabitha said. “She’s nice. And Ralphie always takes care of his regulars!”

  “And the cops who might happen through there?” Kane said. “Think they’d let us finish our food first, or just go ahead and shoot us on sight?” The police never frequented Ralphie’s in the past. As much as Ralphie didn’t like the officers of the NCPD in his diner, he probably didn’t have a choice since things had turned upside down in Hidden Valley.

  “You’re such a downer, Kane,” Tabitha said.

  “I’m realistic.”

  Kane heard a noise outside the morgue. Keys. Someone muttering. Tabitha began to speak, but he shushed her.

  “Visus Mortalis.”

  Kane’s vision went to normal, his amulet cooling slightly as the door to the office opened. Krieg stepped in, closing the door behind him as he began to remove his hat and long coat. He hung them on the peg next to the door and sighed as he went to the body Kane had been studying moments before.

  “Good morning, kind sir,” Krieg said to the dead man. “I do wish we could’ve me
t under better circumstances. Still, I promise to make your morning under my care as pleasant as possible. All things considered.”

  Kane’s anger rose as Krieg went about gathering his tools for the autopsy. Here was a man he had trusted, had believed was working with him. He suddenly didn’t care that Krieg had been a trustworthy, loyal friend once.

  Kane stepped out of the shadows, wiping his amulet clean, killing his cloaking spell. The spell peeled away like burning leaves from a tree as he came into view. Krieg turned just as Kane emerged from ash. The old man’s eyes widened, his mouth opening to speak as he backed into the table.

  Kane was on him, the doctor’s shirt bunched in his fist. Kane slung him around as he put his arm around the doctor in a headlock, his hand clamped over the man’s mouth. Krieg struggled, but Kane was too strong for him.

  “Nice to see you too, doc,” Kane said.

  “Kane! No!” Tabitha said behind him.

  He ignored her, growling into Krieg’s ear as he spoke.

  “Listen to me carefully. I’m going to let you go. We’re going to have a calm, rational conversation about what the fuck happened before I left New Chicago, and what’s been going on since. You yell, you call for anyone, if I hear anything outside that door that sounds like a cop, I’ll cook you like a fucking turkey and leave you to burn. You understand me, old man?”

  Krieg nodded, his eyes still wide and panicked. Kane nodded, released him, and stepped back just enough to give the man room, but still in reach if need be.

  “Kane,” Krieg said, looking at him in disbelief. “Dear God, it’s you.”

  “Yeah, it’s me,” Kane said, still glaring at Krieg. “The guy you fed to a crazy woman with a taste for blood.”

  “Listen to me, Kane,” Krieg said, holding his hand out as if keeping a tiger at bay. “I had no choice. You have to understand what kind of power Sarah Broussard wielded.”

  “I’m pretty Goddamned aware, Krieg,” Kane said, his fists clenched at his sides. “She killed a shitload of people. Including Marta.”

  Krieg slumped back against the table.

  “Dear Lord,” he said, shaking his head. “That poor girl. She vanished shortly after your display at Miss Drake’s execution. We’d all been wondering. A group of us have been searching for her ever since.” He looked at Kane. “Off the books, of course. Lieutenant Danwood and Commissioner Gentry have made it clear that the case is closed. Some of us didn’t want to give up hope.”

  “She’s gone,” Kane said, keeping his tone stern. “I’m here on business. First, what do you know about a soldier named Chesterfield? He’s with the Special Forces.”

  “I know he is an evil man,” Krieg said, Standing up straight. He moved carefully around to the other side of the table as he spoke. “Beyond that, I’m not aware that he’s anything more than the General of the Special Forces, though I do not doubt that he is on the Oligarch payroll.”

  “He’s a Blood Priest,” Kane said.

  Krieg’s eyes widened.

  “Oh my,” Krieg breathed. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. “Oh, God, not another one.”

  “Tell me why you helped Sarah Broussard,” Kane said.

  Krieg looked at him.

  “She demonstrated her power on a rookie officer when she came to see me. Drained him until he crumbled to dust. She threatened to do the same to someone I care deeply about unless I did as she asked. I was simply to keep you informed, call you in to make sure you followed the case. I was to make sure you saw every victim, gave you every reason to search her out. All so she could gather information. Build a daily timeline on you, as it were.”

  Kane blinked.

  “She was hunting me,” he said. “Tried to kill me. And Tabitha. She succeeded with Marta.”

  “And my brother,” Tabitha said in a small voice behind Kane. Kane looked down, a pang of guilt in his chest.

  “And she would’ve killed Jones,” Krieg said, looking at Kane. “And me. And Antonia Boudreaux. And anyone else in your life. She was on a mission, Kane. Crazed. Obsessed. She didn’t want to kill you. She wanted to break you. Tear you down.”

  “She was working under Gentry,” Kane said.

  Krieg shook his head.

  “She was using him, dear boy.” Krieg put on his apron, a surgeon’s hat and gloves, and began to prep his tools as he spoke. “Now we have a new threat, and it seems that this man is hunting people and killing them with no real purpose in mind. At least not an obvious one.”

  “Just like that?” Kane said. “You expect me to jump on another case like nothing happened? I’m rogue, Krieg. I’m a fugitive.”

  Krieg looked up from his surgical tools.

  “And these murders are connected to something,” he said. “Something involving you. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been notified to involve you again should you return to Hidden Valley.” He looked away. “Despite our current differences.”

  Kane sighed. Krieg wasn’t a Magician. He wasn’t combat trained. He’d been helpless against Sarah. Kane couldn’t help thinking that she’d have Krieg drained within seconds he’d tried to escape.

  “We have a victim,” Krieg said, interrupting Kane’s thoughts. Nodded to the body. “Would you…be so kind?”

  Kane helped him sit the body up and pull off the dead man’s coat. Kane lay the body back down, watched as Krieg used a pair of scissors to cut open the man’s shirt. He pulled the fabric back. The man’s blank eyes stared at Kane, unseeing.

  “No identification,” Krieg said as he rummaged through the coat pockets. “As usual. Yet another John Doe.”

  “As usual? None of the bodies have been identified?” Kane asked.

  “Not one,” Krieg said. “No family or Next of Kin have come by to claim them. These people have simply disappeared.”

  “All homeless,” Kane said. He shook his head. “It makes sense. No one would miss them, so no one would bother investigating.”

  “Kane, that’s awful,” Tabitha said, admonishing him. “Someone cares about these people. They have to have somebody.”

  “I’m afraid Kane is being as kind as the situation allows, my dear,” Krieg said. “And, unfortunately, the reality tends to be a bit cruel. All of the men and women brought in here under the given circumstances have the same things in common: all presumably homeless, all unidentified. Each one was killed by a single shot to the forehead. The person committing these murders is killing them clean, quickly, and quietly. The gunshots rarely rouse anyone around.”

  “Heard the gun go off,” Kane said. “It had a weird sound. More like a thud than a blast.”

  “I didn’t hear it at all,” Tabitha said. “Kane was listening in with his hearing.”

  “It’s got to be some kind of device on the firearm,” Krieg said. He lifted the head on the body, looking at the large exit wound in the back of the skull. “The round went through. Damn.”

  “Why is that important?” Kane asked.

  Krieg let the head rest back down and looked up at him.

  “Were the round to have remained inside this poor man’s skull, I could extract it to examine any markings made by the gun, itself, to indicate how our friend is silencing the gunshot. It might at least lead us in the right direction of finding out who we’re dealing with.”

  “The bullet might be imbedded somewhere at Antonia’s house,” Kane said, looking at Tabitha. “He shot towards the house. I might be able to find it with my Sight.”

  “The impact into our friend’s skull would have slowed the velocity of the bullet,” Krieg said. “It would likely not be hard to collect once found.”

  Kane looked back at him and nodded.

  “I’ll get that bullet for you.” Kane turned and motioned to Tabitha to take his arm. “Get us out of here.”

  “Kane,” Krieg said. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry. I don’t ask you to trust me again. But I do ask that you know that I would not have helped her or betrayed you under any other circumstances.”


  Kane looked over his shoulder.

  “Who did she threaten?”

  Krieg sighed, looked down, then up at Kane, his steel-colored eyes hard as he spoke.

  “I have a granddaughter. She’s been in my care since the death of my daughter. She’s only ten.”

  Kane nodded, his stomach a knot. A child. Sarah had threatened a child.

  “Let’s go,” he said to Tabitha.

  Chapter Four

  Kane reluctantly agreed to let Tabitha take him back to her place after their visit with Krieg. The building still stood, the exterior making it seem set apart from the raids Antonia described. Tabitha lived in a quieter part of Hidden Valley, so her building wasn’t likely to be on the Special Forces and police list of places to kick down during their war on the lower class.

  Her apartment spoke otherwise.

  “Odin’s…beard!” she cried as soon as they landed from the spell. She looked around the living room.

  The place had been ransacked. Her coffee table was overturned, the couch tossed and cut up. Her closets and pantry had been emptied into the floor, as had her cabinets and cupboards. Her countertops were smashed, the drawers in both the kitchen and her bedroom pulled completely out and dumped.

  Tabitha cried as she went to her knees in front of the couch. “Suzie,” she said. “Oh, Gods, they hurt her!”

  Kane blinked. He’d forgotten that Tabitha tended to treat inanimate objects as living things. He felt less exasperation toward her about it than before. She’d told him about how she’d lost her child years before they’d met. Jones would’ve explained that it was her reaction to being alone. A coping mechanism.

  “Tabitha,” he said, keeping his tone low and gentle. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have time for this.”

  She looked up at him, then back at the couch. She nodded and stood, wiping the tears away.

  “Right,” she said. She shook her arms, sighing loudly. “Focus. Right.”

  “Why’d you want to come here?”

  “I wanted to talk where we would be safe,” she said. “Alone.”

  Kane motioned to the window.

  “We could’ve gone to Jones’s.”