Gaslit Revolution

by Jason Gilbert

  Gentry chuckled.

  “No, my friend, I concede that your Revolution was a much stronger army than the Special Forces anticipated.” He swirled the brandy in the glass, looking down at it as he spoke. “No, as far as the Oligarchs, you are quite right. The Revolution is victorious. The city is yours. Very likely, the country.” He looked up at Kane. “But you? Simply walking into this office is your defeat. And no one in this building, in this city, is going to live to celebrate the victory downstairs.”

  Kane blinked. He glanced around. Was there a trap? Had Gentry lied?

  Nothing. There was really nowhere to hide in the office.

  Gentry stepped up to the fireplace, picked up a poker, and used it to shift the burning logs around.

  “You see, Mr. Shepherd, I…how do I put this in a way you can understand?” He looked at Kane and grinned. “I don’t give a shit about the Oligarchy. Or their money.” He set the poker down, the end still in the fire. His eyes flashed as he spoke, his expression excited. “But power? Now there’s something worth the effort. True, raw, unopposed power.”

  “What, because you’re a Magician?” Kane said. “So are we. Big deal.”

  Gentry chuckled as he pulled something out of his coat pocket and dropped it on the desk. Not one thing. Pieces. Parts.

  Tabitha’s amulet.

  “Oh, I assure you it is a big deal,” Gentry said. “You see, unlike previous generations, I’ve become a master at a certain kind of spell. The killing spell. Nothing remotely like the more barbaric methods you and Miss Drake have used with your powers. I’m talking about a true killing spell. A spell that literally steals the life from a person. Takes the soul right out of the body, the heart stopping immediately. No blood. No violence. Only death.” He stepped towards Kane, still kept his distance. “I’ve been hard at work on growing the spell. Changing it. Making it more powerful. But there was always so much to do in the meantime, and I needed to keep more wary eyes diverted. That was why I needed the Oligarchs, why I helped put them in absolute power. Enforced their laws. Carried out their dirty work. And then you came along, and things got difficult for me to maintain my secrecy. The Mors Rebrum had one job: draw you away from me and kill you. She came to me with the idea, actually. Sought me out. I was impressed with Miss Broussard.” Gentry sighed. “Little did I know that she happened to be your long-lost childhood love. She was a tad conflicted. Oh well. She got what she deserved.”

  Kane clenched his fists, the cuts from where he’d dug into his hands with his fingernails earlier reopened.

  “Then there was the Revolution,” Gentry continued, turning and walking back to the window, his drink still in his hand. “And there you were, an integral part of this uprising! Dr. Jones trusted you implicitly. What better way to combat this Revolution quietly than to have it crumble from the inside? My son, Richard, had the idea to curse you.” He looked over his shoulder. “And you killed him.”

  “With pleasure,” Kane said. “Fed his ass into the incinerator on Bill’s ship, myself.”

  Gentry sighed, took a sip of his brandy.

  “Did you know that General Sherman had very specific orders when he proposed to burn the South during the Civil War?” He turned away from the window and faced Kane.

  Kane shrugged. “Don’t really give a shit.”

  “You see,” Gentry continued as if Kane hadn’t spoken. “He was given free reign to burn Atlanta, Columbia, any city or town he came across. Except Charleston. That one city was to be spared. It was a moral decision, you see. It was the port city. The people living there abandoned the city when they learned of his approach. The Union army felt that burning an undefended, abandoned city, leaving so many homeless, would be an act of cruelty.” He gave a small laugh. “Morality. Morality makes a man weak. It causes mistakes. Errors in judgement.”

  “Yak, yak, yak,” Kane said. “Never known you to talk this damned much.”

  “Oh, there’s a reason,” Gentry said. “Because, while you were in the South running from the destruction, I came across a vital discovery in my research. As it turned out, I needed you.”

  “For what?”

  “My killing spell.” Gentry started walking towards Kane slowly as he spoke. “The killing spell. You see, it’s not enough to kill one man. Anyone can kill one man. It doesn’t give you power over the masses. Just that one man. But kill fifty men. A hundred. A thousand. All in one go.” He raised his glass as if giving a toast. “There, dear friend, is where the true power lies.”

  Kane heard Tabitha sob behind him. He glanced down at her. Her shoulder was bleeding badly. The knife still floated in front of her chest. She looked up at him.

  “You shouldn’t have come here, Kane,” she said in a terrified voice. “You should’ve let me die.”

  “The spell I’m building is the ultimate spell,” Gentry said. “Every Magician, every man, woman, and child in the city, all of them dead in one fell swoop.”

  Kane looked back at Gentry.

  “Then what?” he said, letting the sarcasm in his tone fly. “You’re gonna rule over an empty city? Bravo. What an accomplishment.”

  “The rest of the country would be free of the Oligarchy,” Gentry said. “And, to avoid the same fate, the country will simply pledge loyalty to me.” He smiled. “Fealty, as it were.”

  “That’s it?” Kane said. “You want to ‘rule the world?’ All of this is for some megalomaniac bullshit fantasy you’ve got? I expected more from you, Gentry.”

  Gentry glared at Kane.

  “I’ll make this easy on you, Mr. Shepherd.” He turned and strode over to the desk. He opened a drawer and pulled Kane and Tabitha’s Grimoires from the drawer, setting them down on top. “I require you to turn your power over to me to complete the spell.”

  “And Tabitha?” Kane said. “She has to do the same thing?”

  Gentry smiled.

  “That’s the wonderful part of all of this,” he said. “With her carrying your child, you both are bound. You now carry power over her Grimoire.” He ran his hand over the two books. “I would have the power of three Magicians added to my own. You can also turn her power over to me. All it requires is your blood. Willingly.”

  “Fuck you,” Kane said. “You had to know I’d never agree to that.”

  Gentry nodded and walked away from the desk, approaching Kane as he spoke.

  “I am fully aware,” he said. “And I would’ve asked her to do the same, but then I wouldn’t have gotten you here. That, and she cannot totally concede to me. Her unborn child is part of her, a separate will, and would also have to consciously give the power over to me. We both know that is an impossibility. You are the only one who can do it. But you, Mr. Shepherd,” Gentry shook his finger at Kane. “You require a certain level of convincing. That’s why I stabbed poor Miss Drake in the shoulder. Why I have my knife inches from her heart.” He waved his hand, and Kane flew off his feet and landed on the floor several feet away. He rolled onto his side and looked up as Gentry pulled the knife out of the air. “But I cannot kill her. Just as I cannot kill you. I need you both alive for the books to be turned over to me.” Gentry reached down and touched Tabitha’s hand. She tried to recoil, but the handcuffs held her in place. Gentry grabbed her hand, balled her fingers up save for the smallest. He held the hand down against the chair arm as he looked at Kane. “But I can break you, Mr. Shepherd. I can break your spirit. Make you do as I ask simply to end her suffering.” He smiled at Tabitha. “I’ve always found ‘piece-by-piece’ the best way to go.”

  “No!” Tabitha cried out. “No, please!”

  Kane got to his feet, called out for Gentry to stop. It happened too quickly. The knife was in the air, coming down, the loud sound of metal cutting into wood. Tabitha screamed, the sound shrill and pained as she writhed against her bindings.

  Gentry knelt down and picked up the severed finger. He looked at it, his expression thoughtful, then turned his gaze to Kane.

  “This is a good place to s
tart,” he said. “Don’t you agree, Mr. Shepherd?” He grinned as he turned and threw the finger into the fireplace.

  The world was a blur. Kane tried to hear, but it all sounded as if he was under water. His vision was red, his breaths quick, his skin hot. Every muscle in his body moved at once. Gentry didn’t have time to turn around before Kane was on top of him, pulling him to the floor. Gentry tried to fight back, but Kane maneuvered himself on top of the commissioner. He started swinging, bringing his fists down on Gentry’s face over and over, hitting harder. Harder. He wanted to hear it, the sound of Gentry’s skull breaking, see his brains fall out onto the floor. Tabitha screamed.

  He didn’t need the Wendigo. He would kill Gentry with his bare hands.

  He grinned as he kept pummeling Gentry.

  A blast of wind knocked him off the commissioner. Kane got back to his feet as Gentry rose, his face bruised and bleeding, twisted in anger and shock.

  “You bastard,” Gentry said. “You’re supposed to break, damn you! Beg me to stop her pain!” He reached down and squeezed Tabitha’s wounded hand, blood flowing between his fingers. She shrieked as Gentry screamed at Kane. “Beg!”

  Kane rushed him again, grabbed him, tried to sling him into the fireplace. Gentry was fast, strong, this time grabbing Kane’s arm and kicking out at his ribs. Kane staggered back, let Gentry go. He conjured a fireball and slung it at Gentry. The commissioner ducked, used a gust of wind to hurl one of the chairs at Kane. It connected, and Kane went down, the chair splintering under the force. Kane got back up. His arm. Was it broken?

  No.

  He rushed Gentry again, this time shouting a spell.

  “Ethereal incindio!”

  A stream of fire shot from Kane’s hand. Gentry dove to the side as the fire hit the wall, the wood starting to burn instantly. He trained the fire after Gentry, keeping it going, the hot napalm burning as it went. Flames rose, engulfed the walls. The floor started to smoke. Kane stopped the spell as Gentry went for the desk.

  For the Grimoires.

  Kane ran at him, tackled him as he reached for the books. Gentry swung. Kane staggered slightly, stunned. Gentry made for the books again. Kane kicked at him. He spun, turned the desk over as Gentry went down.

  “No!” Gentry said.

  “Yup,” Kane said as he kicked at Gentry’s head. Gentry ducked, caught Kane’s leg, and lifted, sending Kane onto his back. He reached down and held his hand out over Kane’s face.

  “Næturkvilli!”

  Kane felt the breath begin to leave his body, felt it blowing out through his nose and mouth as if Gentry was pulling the air right out of his lungs. He began to feel lightheaded, his vision darkening.

  “You were my lion,” Gentry said, his voice hoarse. “My greatest triumph. I will kill you, Mr. Shepherd. And I will find someone else. You’ve caused me enough trouble.”

  Kane could barely hear him, his body growing weaker with every second. He heard Tabitha shout something. Heard an explosion. Cold. Bitter, hateful cold. He felt Gentry lift off of him, felt his own body fly through the air as he gasped in the cold air. It felt as if his lungs had. Kane slammed into the corner next to the window-wall, the cold making his pain worse. He tried to move, his joints and muscles were stiff and sore, the cuts on his body stinging, the blood drying while fresh blood pooled in his mouth. He’d cut his cheek on his own teeth when Gentry had hit him. He shook his head and got to his feet, pushing back against the pain. Gentry was on the opposite side of the room, his body still, his suit tattered, the torn spots frosted over. The blast had put the fire out, the blackened and charred wood wet where the ice was melting.

  Kane looked up as Tabitha stood, the frozen handcuffs and rope crumbling away. Her eyes were wide, her lip trembling as she looked around at the partially frozen, destroyed office. She held up her bleeding hand, her eyes locked on the stump that used to be a finger.

  “K…Kane…?” she said, her voice airy and panicked as she began to shake.

  Kane went to her, pulled off one of his tattered shirt sleeves and began to wrap it around the hand.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll get it healed. Let me get the Grimoires.”

  She nodded, pulling her hand close to her, wincing in pain. Kane went to the toppled desk and picked up the two books. He looked around, saw Tabitha’s satchel tossed in a corner. He picked it up and packed the two books inside, went back to her.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  She nodded.

  “What about Gentry?”

  “I think you killed him in that blast.”

  Kane felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach as Gentry’s voice purred at him from the window.

  “I believe you’ve thought wrong, Mr. Shepherd.”

  Kane spun and hurled a charged fireball at him. Gentry muttered a spell and vanished, the fireball hitting the window at full force. The sound of the glass wall shattering was deafening, the glass blowing outward into the city, burning chunks raining out and down. The wind whipped into the office, loud and cool. Kane saw the airships in the distance battling. One fired its cannons and sent a gunner ship burning to the streets.

  An airship on our side? Kane thought.

  It was only a second. It was all Gentry needed.

  “You’ve grown boring, Mr. Shepherd. It’s time we ended this.”

  Kane slung Tabitha out of the way as a blast of wind slapped into him, Gentry’s growled spell riding on the gale as Kane was lifted off of his feet. Flung backwards. The floor passing underneath him. The desk. The walls. The ledge.

  Outside. He was outside and falling. He was going to die.

  The wind was knocked out of him, the stop hitting him hard. He rolled across the rounded surface, stopped himself, looked up. He saw gray, saw the turbines on the sides, the roar accompanied by the whine of spinning gears and a shaft that probably could use some oil.

  “Mr. Shepherd?”

  Dead. He was dead. Kane had died. That voice. He knew it. Only being dead could explain it.

  “Farnsworth?” he said, focusing his voice into the ship, at the Captain’s bridge.

  “Hope I wasn’t too late,” Farnsworth barked. “Looks like I’ve already missed some of the fight!”

  “You–you’re dead.”

  He heard Farnsworth laugh.

  “Nothing rum can’t fix! Captain Bill, sir! Make ready!”

  Kane heard Bill’s voice.

  “Aye, Captain!”

  “No!” Kane shouted, getting to his feet. “Tabitha!”

  Kane heard Farnsworth’s shouts to hold deaden under the sound of a gale of wind as Gentry appeared on top of the airship across from Kane. His face was bleeding, his nose red with frostbite from Tabitha’s blast. Kane felt cold next to him, looked to see Tabitha appear on his left.

  “Now, Farnsworth!” Kane shouted.

  Tabitha looked at him.

  “Farnsworth?!”

  Kane grabbed her and pulled her down as the airship lurched away from the tower. Gentry lost his footing, going down as the ship turned and started towards the shipyards. A Special Forces gunner pulled alongside Farnsworth’s airship. Kane saw cannons on the gunner aimed directly at them.

  “No!” Kane said, standing, pulling Tabitha up with him. He waved at the gunner. “Stop!”

  Farnsworth’s cannons bellowed, cannonballs smashing into the Gunner. She returned fire, the air and all three Magicians went down as drillers flew wide, the Gunner lurching from the impact of Farnsworth’s lead storm. Kane looked up from his position next to Tabitha, saw Gentry rise to his feet. The commissioner looked at the Gunner ship as if it were an annoying pest.

  “You’re not helping,” he said. “Næturbrjóst!”

  Gentry held his hands out, the howling wind coming from him and hitting the enemy airship hard. The gale blew the ship to the side, crewmen hanging onto railing and taglines for dear life. Others not lucky enough to find a grip fell to the streets below.

  The cannons below
barked again, and the Gunner went down to the streets in a blaze of raining debris and crewmen. Kane and Tabitha got up. Tabitha planted her feet and glared at Gentry.

  “Draugalega Frosti!”

  She hurled an ice spear at the commissioner. He sidestepped it, growled a spell, and sent it back at her. Kane blasted it out of the air and countered with a fireball. Tabitha threw another spear. Gentry blew them both away and grinned at Kane, wagging a finger at him.

  “Two on one? I thought better of you, Mr. Shepherd. So unfair.” His grin turned sinister as he fixed his gaze on Tabitha. “Shall we even the odds?” He flung his hand out. A force of wind swept at them, and Tabitha was in the air, suspended. Gentry waved his hand, and she went down the side of the airship and onto the rear fin next to the right turbine. The air vacuum from the rotor pulled at her, and Kane could hear her scream over the loud machine as she sailed towards it. She screamed something and teleported to the fin, but the winds were too much and she slipped, hanging from the edge, her feet free over the city below.

  “No!” Kane shouted. “Ethereal petulans!” He thrust his hand out, saw the red tendril shoot down at the wing and hit the surface. He jumped off the side of the ship and swung down. He kept his eyes on Tabitha as he swung through the air, gained speed as he dropped. The Ethereal Tether yanked him up, and he was flying at Tabitha’s dangling form. Closer. Closer.

  She fell.

  Kane reached for her as she went past, grabbed her injured hand. She screamed, both pain and terror as he pulled her up, her blood making his grip slick. They were still swinging, moving up. Up. She slipped out of his grip. He called to her as she dropped. Tabitha screamed until she landed squarely on the fin next to the turbine. Kane pulled at the tether again, his body jerking as it yanked him down to the fin. He hit hard, felt his shoulder shift and pop, the pain white hot.

  Tabitha went to him, tried to speak. Gentry appeared behind her, pulled her off of Kane and flung her back towards the ship as if she weighed nothing. Kane looked up at him as the bastard grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him.