Gaslit Revolution

by Jason Gilbert

  Kane looked down as the little girl walked past him. She held Wil’s pet possum in her arms as if it were a cat. It nuzzled her cheek as she lovingly rubbed it’s back and neck, running her fingers through its coarse fur.

  “You done seen somethin’, Kane Shepherd,” Wil said, grinning at Kane, her eyes flashing. “Somethin’ you got naggin’ you. But you ignore. It’s what you do. Let other nonsense fog your mind. Leave out them details till they bite your ass like a copperhead.” She stuck her finger in the possum’s mouth. It snapped its jaws shut on it quickly, blood pouring from the bite, the sudden attack causing no reaction from Wil as she drew her finger back. She turned to the concrete wall behind her and drew something in her blood. Kane watched as she stepped away.

  The cross. The same one he’d seen tattooed on the cop’s hand earlier. Four arms, all the same length, each spread at the end. He thought back to school. History class. Sister Edna. She’d talked about it, had drawn that same symbol on the chalk board after striking Kane’s knuckles with the ruler for chewing gum. What had they been talking about? Something–

  Shit, Kane thought as it hit him. The Crusades. They’d been talking about the Crusades. The Templars. It’d been part of their week of Confession and Absolution. The Templars had been Absolved of any sins they were about to commit. According to Sister Edna, that wasn’t exactly how Absolution worked.

  The Templars did horrific things during the Crusades. Rape, torture, thousands upon thousands murdered in the name of the Catholic Church. It was a dark spot in the history of the faith, and it was taught as such. But the Templars had been disbanded sometime after the Crusades.

  Why the hell were there people, police officers, walking around with the Templar Cross tattooed on their hands?

  “I need to get back to Tabitha,” Kane said. “I had a run-in with the killer. He’s still out there, and he’s on a rampage. He tried to kill at least a dozen people last night.”

  Wil laughed.

  “Last night? Ha! That was two nights ago, boy! You been coldcocked for two days! Breathin’ in too much smoke in that buildin’ you done burned up.” She took the possum from the girl, nodding to her as she patted the child on the head. “Thank you, sweet one.” Wil looked back up at Kane. “I’m gonna make you another arrangement, Kane Shepherd. And you damn sure gonna do it if you want any peace. If you want my help.”

  “Fine,” Kane said. “Let’s hear it.”

  Wil motioned to the homeless again.

  “You gonna find this killer,” she said. “You not gonna bring him to justice. You not gonna feed him to them coppers out there.” Her mouth widened into a rictus grin. “You gonna kill that man. Kill him dead. And you gonna get them crooked-ass Templar boys out of Hidden Valley and away from my people.”

  “I don’t understand any of this,” Kane said. “All I know is that there’s a killer going around, and he’s bringing in a lot of unwanted police attention.”

  Wil shrugged.

  “You the gumshoe,” she said, stepping closer to the barrel. “Figure it out, white man. I’m just a humble Mambo. Don’t really involve my mind in such matters. I take care of mine. And these people, they mine now. Can’t go home, gonna make this home.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Mean you gotta fix things here.”

  Kane looked down at the little girl. She stared back at him, moving back from Wilhelmina. She spoke, her voice small and meek.

  “The Conjure Lady said she’d protect us. Will you help, mister?”

  “Ha!” Wil laughed, looking down at the girl. “He ain’t got no choice, sweet girl.” Will looked back at Kane, holding the opossum in both hands as she raised it above her head. “Not if he want peace.”

  Kane startled, his eyes widening as Wil threw the opossum into the fire. The thing shrieked and writhed as the flames billowed into the night, brightening the area. Homeless shrank back from the scene, some letting out a terrified shout. The little girl stepped back, her expression calm as the flames began to die down. They were still white-hot as the smoke began to form into a shape, twisting and moving as it hovered above the fire. Wil stared at it, her expression maniacal and intense as she spoke.

  “Him walk alone, stay in the dark, hunt and kill. Don’t carry no reason for it. Just lovin’ the thrill of causing the end of another. But he still got orders. Carryin’ out an agenda, him is. Still tryin’ to cause somethin’ bigger than him. Bigger than all of us. Him not alone.”

  The smoke formed into the shape of a man. Kane stepped closer as more details began to stand out. The top hat. The long-beaked plague mask. The killer held his gun out as if pointed at a new target. Kane stared at the weapon. Something was attached at the end. It looked like some sort of extended barrel. He’d never seen anything like it.

  “His gunshots make hardly any noise when he fires,” he said. “I wonder if that thing on the end of the barrel has something to do with it?”

  “Ain’t no magic in this murderin’ son of a bitch,” Wilhelmina said. “Him a mortal man. Don’t mean he’ll be easier to find. But, it mean you won’t have to get fancy with your Magician tricks and trinkets. Him little toy make his gun not go bang when he decide to steal life. Mean you gotta use that hearin’ you got and watch your back.”

  “Can you tell me who he is?”

  Wil shook her head.

  “No. That I cannot do. And neither can that girl you got who can see what you can’t.”

  Kane shook his head.

  “You think Tabitha couldn’t figure him out?”

  “I can sense magic, boy,” Wil said. “Can smell it. She can’t look that deep. Not on somethin’ like this man. The Spirit world got rules. Breakin’ them rules mean death and pain. Pain worse. Magic have a price. Dunno why I gotta keep remindin’ you of that. Magician.” She looked back at the man floating above the barrel. Kane watched as the figure turned, the gun twitching. He heard the small click of the hammer pulling back, the round sliding into place. No time to blink. A split second.

  Ffft!

  The shape exploded into a cloud of smoke. Kane jumped back as the cloud sucked down into the barrel. The fire turned back to orange. The possum burst from the flames in a shower of sparks, squeaking angrily as it hit the ground and shook off the burning embers and ash. It scurried to the little girl, its fur unscathed as if Wil hadn’t tossed it into a barrel of fire. The girl reached down and picked the animal up, petting it and cooing at it as she held it close.

  “Go,” Wil said, staring at Kane. “Do what I say do. These people dependin’ on you. You come back here from Hell, Kane Shepherd. Show them why Hell let you go.”

  The Walking Bridge was an hour’s walk from Tabitha’s building. It gave Kane a lot of time to think on things, but it also allowed for his mind to go to darker places. Places that he’d tried to set aside.

  I can’t do this, he said as he turned a corner. Tabitha’s street was one more block down. Almost there.

  Kane wasn’t afraid to kill someone. He’d killed plenty of Special Forces troops. But he couldn’t very well turn the shooter in to the police, either. Turning the shooter over to the police wouldn’t make matters any better for Kane and Tabitha. The Northern Union didn’t operate like that. They would kill him on sight, find Tabitha, and kill her as well. The gunman would be set free to come back to Hidden Valley and continue to thin out the population, killing homeless and scaring off the rest. It would make for fewer people to push back while they came through and razed the place to the ground.

  It made Kane sick.

  He turned the corner as the sound of an approaching carriage rang out behind him. He ducked quickly behind a dumpster, peered out as the clockwork horses came into view, moving quickly, the police carriage they were pulling full of cops.

  What’s going on? Kane thought. He waited until they passed by, then moved out from his hiding spot and went after the carriage as it turned the corner.

  Towards Tabitha’s place.

  “Shit,” Kane breathed, his heart
skipping a beat. “Shit!”

  He broke into a sprint, took the corner and made his way toward the scene. Several carriages were parked in front of the building, cops armed with rifles, revolvers, and blunderbusses taking position behind the carriages and clockwork horses as a squad of Special Forces formed the front line, each holding up a copper shield. Kane looked up and saw Tabitha moving around her apartment through the window, completely unaware of what was going on outside her building.

  Another carriage pulled up and parked behind the line formed by the police. The door opened. Kane’s blood boiled as Lieutenant Charles Danwood stepped out, chomping away on a large cigar, a brass horn clutched in his meaty fist. He looked up at the building, held the horn up in front of his mouth as he spoke.

  “We know you’re in there, Shepherd,” he called up at the building. “Just wanna talk. Get your ass out here!”

  “Talk. Right,” Kane said under his breath.

  “Now, Shepherd,” Danwood barked into the megaphone.

  Tabitha came to the window, looked down at the scene, her eyes widening.

  “Get back,” Kane said, looking at her.

  She flinched, looked directly at him, then backed away from the window.

  “C’mon, sweetie,” Danwood cawed into the megaphone. “Get your boyfriend. We ain’t got all day here.”

  Tabitha stepped back up to the window, opened it, and leaned out.

  “He’s out right now,” she called down to Danwood, her tone polite and casual. “Can I take a message?”

  “You two get your asses down here, now!” Danwood barked. “Surrender yourselves, and we might not feel the need to raid this building.”

  Kane stood before he knew to stop himself, marched out into the open toward the firing squad.

  “That’s enough, Danwood,” he said. “Here I am.”

  Danwood startled and turned, the rest of the police and Special Forces doing the same. The area was filled with the clicking and clacking sounds of rounds being chambered and guns being cocked and readied as Kane found himself staring down the business end of at least twenty firearms. Danwood glanced over his shoulder.

  “Special Forces,” he called. “Stay on the building.”

  “Sir!” one of them shouted. He nodded to the others. “Men, make ready!”

  “Sir!” the rest said in unison. They spun on their heels, their focus back on Tabitha’s front stoop.

  “Stop this,” Kane said, stepping toward Danwood. “I’m the one you’re after. There are families in that building. Leave them alone.”

  Danwood grinned at Kane.

  “Long time no see, Shepherd,” he said. “Was starting to wonder if you might ever come back.”

  “You miss me?”

  Danwood grunted.

  “About as much as I miss the doctor telling me to lose weight and stop smoking.” His grin broadened. “Probably why I had him shot.”

  Kane clenched his fist, fought to keep his cool.

  “Go ahead and shoot me,” Kane said, his eyes fixed hard on Danwood. “Let’s end this.”

  “Can’t kill you,” Danwood said. “Got orders to keep your worthless ass alive.” He looked over his shoulder and up at Tabitha. “Her? The people in that building? Well, that’s a different story. Move in!”

  The Special Forces troops marched on the building, ran up the front steps, kicked in the door. Kane’s hand was in his pocket. The rune was drawn. The amulet hummed with power as he shouted his spell.

  “Aethereum Ignus!”

  Danwood gave a shout as the area filled with gunfire and shrapnel. Kane cast his Ethereal Shield spell just as rounds peppered the barrier. Danwood yelled at his men to hold their fire. Shoot to injure. Kane didn’t give them a chance to respond. He lowered the shield and hurled a charged fireball at the group at the door. Some ducked as it exploded, chunks of concrete, asphalt, and debris raining down. Several of Danwood’s men were thrown to the side along with the troopers at the front door. Kane moved past them as they began to get to their feet again. He raced through the door, stopped as several apartment doors opened down the first-floor corridor. People poked their heads out to see what the ruckus was.

  “Get back inside,” Kane shouted. “Go!”

  The residents ducked back into their homes, the cacophony of deadbolts and locks being thrown flooding Kane’s hearing at once as he spun on his heel and saw the police getting to their feet. Danwood was up on one knee, still trying to force his legs underneath him and stand.

  Where were the Special Forces?

  A blast. Shouting. Gunfire. Tabitha’s voice yelling in Icelandic.

  They’d gone straight for Tabitha.

  Kane shot up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. He rounded the landing on the second floor, did the same up the third as he heard the sound of shouts and boots stomping on the floor below. They were after him. Shit!

  Kane reached the landing on the fourth floor, turned, saw the group of cops heading up the steps right behind him. He charged another fireball. He hurled it at the stairs and ducked as the wood and framework exploded in front of him. A few of the officers fell backwards while a few went down the hole Kane had left in his wake. He spun and raced down the hall to Tabitha’s apartment. An ice blast sailed through the door and into the hallway. Bullets peppered the woodwork. Another shout. A scream. Kane stopped as a soldier staggered out into the hall, his helmet blue from the frost. His hands grasped at it, pulled at it, tried to take it off as he howled in pain. Kane plowed into him, knocked him off his feet and onto his back.

  Kane ran into the apartment as two soldiers grabbed Tabitha by either arm, forced her down onto the couch. Another stepped forward, his blunderbuss aimed at her face.

  “Draugalega Sprengia!”

  An explosion rocked the floor under Kane’s feet as a deep cold shot through the room, the force knocking each of the troops off of Tabitha. A few more had come out from the bedroom, ducked as the debris flew through the air.

  One of them had the satchel with the Grimoires in his hand.

  “Ethereal petulans!”

  Kane thrust his hand out, the tendril of energy shooting at the satchel, wrapping itself around it. He yanked, and the soldier screamed in agony as his arm tore from the socket, painted the doorframe in blood. Kane caught the satchel as it flew at him, ducked a hail of gunfire from troops in the kitchen. He wiped the amulet clean and tried to redraw his rune in the same motion. It was a split second.

  Too long.

  It all happened in an instant. Tabitha ran at him. The gunshot. A single bullet from a rifle. The round struck her arm, went through. Spinning. Drilling into Kane’s shoulder and out the other side. White hot pain. Dizziness. Tabitha screaming as she fell. Grabbed him, her grip iron and shaking as she screamed another spell.

  “Draugalega Ferðast!”

  The room spun around them. Kane felt the bitter cold take him, yank him through the air. Hidden Valley whirred by him, the buildings, streets, and people a blur. The cold made the gunshot wound throb and pulse with pain as he held onto Tabitha.

  No. He wouldn’t pass out. He bit his tongue, tasted blood. Stay with it, Shepherd!

  They crashed into a wall, plaster raining down on them as they collapsed in a heap onto the floor. Tabitha groaned as Kane sat up, fought down the urge to vomit from the pain as he looked at her forearm. The bullet had gone clean through, the exit wound larger than the entry. Blood poured from the wound. He sat her up, wincing as he glanced at his shoulder. The round hadn’t hit him directly, had only gone through meat. He would live.

  They both would.

  Kane looked around. A bedroom. An apartment. It was small. One bed, no kitchenette, an open closet with a few women’s outfits on hangers, a chair by the window.

  “Tabitha,” Kane said. “Heal yourself.”

  “Oh, Gods, Kane,” she said, her voice shaking as she looked down at the hole in her forearm. She looked at him. “Your shoulder!”

  “You
first,” Kane said. “I’ve had worse.”

  She nodded, dropped the satchel with the Grimoires to the floor. She held her hand over the wound, and mumbled the spell.

  “Draugalega Heilun.”

  A blue glow emanated from her hand as the wound began to close. She looked up at him.

  “They knew, Kane,” she said. “They didn’t even stop. They came right to my apartment.”

  “I know,” Kane said, thinking back to his confrontation with Danwood. She was right. They had known. It made sense that they would check her apartment, but why bring a full contingency? Had someone tipped them off? Tabitha had said Chris could be trusted. Was she wrong? Had he turned on them?

  Tabitha finished with her arm and went to him, placing her hand over his shoulder. The blood froze, flaked away as the hole began to frost and close. Kane grit his teeth against the icy pain, every muscle in his body tensed to the point of shaking. She pulled her hand away, the skin healed and blue from the cold, the color coming back slowly as blood began to flow in the shoulder again.

  Kane got to his feet, helped her stand, and looked around the apartment.

  “We’ve got to keep moving,” he said. “We can’t stay in one place.”

  “I think we’ll be okay here for now,” Tabitha said. She looked at the mirror and made a noise. “Ugh. My hair is a mess. Gods, I need a shower.”

  Kane looked at her.

  “You…but…You just got shot.”

  She looked at him in the mirror and smiled.

  “I know. It hurt, too.” She raised an eyebrow, her tone casual. “Also had my arm snapped at the elbow once, remember? And then I got gored open by a big monster with antlers. And I’ve had a child before. I think I’ve got pain down pretty good.”

  Kane shook his head, looked away. He wanted to forget what had happened in the South. There was nothing he could do to change the fact that he’d attacked Tabitha, curse or no curse. But it didn’t mean he had to think about it, either.