by Devon Monk
“Mae,” Cedar said, “We don’t have time.”
“He’s dying,” she said with a blank sort of matter-of-factness that did little to hide the anger in her eyes. “He’d want to do that in the heart of his church. That much we can give to him for what he’s given us.”
“Doesn’t much matter where a man exhales his last breath,” Alun said.
“I disagree with you, Mr. Madder,” Mae said, and her words were made of iron. “He’ll have the house of God around him.”
Then she climbed up into the seat next to Cedar. “As quickly as you can, Mr. Hunt.”
Alun caught the running board as the wagon started rolling. “Don’t suppose you know what injured him so?” Alun asked.
“He carried the curse while I hunted,” Cedar said. “While Wil and I hunted.”
Alun was silent, then finally shook his head. “The Kyne men are some of the toughest I’ve even known.” It was the first time Cedar had heard respect in Alun’s tone for the father.
“I’ll clamber back,” Alun said. “The church is as good as any place to hole up while you go get us the Holder, Mr. Hunt.”
“I’m not doing that for you, Mr. Madder.”
“If you want this man’s death to be worth anything, if you want the world to be safe from plague and famine and destruction, you will change your mind, Mr. Hunt. You and I can have a difference of opinion, but in the end, all that matters is the Holder. If we don’t bring it to rest, then the living won’t be living for long. And there will be no hope to save a single soul from the devastation that will befall us all.”
Alun worked his way back along the wagon, nimble and quick, then swung in beneath the cover.
“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Mae asked.
Cedar nodded. He knew the danger of the Holder being loose, knew the poison it could spread in the land, and in the people. And he knew that if it fell into a man’s hands, a man like Mayor Vosbrough, that the warning Alun Madder had just given them wouldn’t be nearly dire enough.
“First we tend Father Kyne,” Cedar said. “Then we decide what to do about the Holder.”
Mae reached over and slipped her hand up beneath his arm and tucked herself more tightly against his side. He could sense her worry. He could sense her fear. And more than that, he could sense the magic that leaped to her hands, eager to be used.
“Were you able to heal him?” Cedar asked.
“I…I bound his soul to his bones with magic, and that is all I could do with my supplies here. But I will need to release his soul before…before he passes. Otherwise he’ll be trapped there. Dead, but knowing.”
Cedar didn’t say anything. He could feel the shiver of revulsion that ran through her body. Once again he cursed the sisters of the coven who had gone to great lengths to convince Mae the power of binding and vows turned to nothing but evil in her hands. Many times her skill with spells had done just the opposite and seen that a merciful outcome was assured.
“You made a good choice,” Cedar said. “A kind choice. It will give him time—give us time to get him home.”
They rode the rest of the distance at as leisurely a pace as they could afford so as not to attract attention. Though Cedar saw lawmen on foot and on horseback obviously looking for the escaped prisoners, he did what he could to look all the while as if he were just going about his business and nothing more.
It helped that the Madders’ wagon wasn’t much to look at. It blended in well with all the other street traffic.
“Can you feel him?” Mae asked once they had made the far end of town and were turning down the lane that led to the church.
“Who?”
“Father Kyne. I can sense a bind still between you. It’s thin, faint, but there is still something of him that clings to you. To your curse.”
Cedar hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he could feel him. “Some,” he said. “An occasional drifting pain, or warmth or cold. No thoughts, no images.”
She nodded. “His body won’t hold against those wounds for long.” She took a breath, then shook her head slightly and let it out.
“What?” he asked. “What were you going to say?”
“I could—I think I could bind health to him, strength to him.”
“Would he heal from it?”
“Yes. I believe he might, if it’s done soon enough.”
“Why do you hesitate?”
“The strength would need to come from somewhere. The health I bind to him would have to come from somewhere. His body is too injured and lacking in resources to heal on its own. He would need another living person to offer their strength to him. And the wounds and pain he bears would slowly drain that person, giving the healing time to take.”
“And if the healing didn’t take?” Cedar asked.
“I think I could break the binding.” Then, she said, stronger: “Yes, I could break it.”
“I’ll do it.”
She thought on that a moment. “We already know you can be bound to him. That he can carry your burden.”
“And I’ll carry his. For a short time. Long enough to know if he can survive.”
Mae squeezed his arm a little. “You are a good soul, Cedar Hunt. A very good soul in this world.”
Though Mae’s words made his heart swell, he wasn’t sure he could agree with her. He had done bad things, many bad things. And one kind gesture didn’t erase his past. Still, he was glad she, at least, found comfort in his decision.
He pulled the wagon up to the back door of the church. No use hiding it. If the sheriff and his men were looking for Father Kyne, they’d come out this way. If they were looking for the Madders, they might be on their way now to see if Cedar and Mae and Miss Dupuis were involved.
They might have only an hour or two or even just minutes before they were found.
Everyone, including the new man, Wicks, got busy taking the supplies—guns, dynamite, blankets—into the church. They moved the wounded Father Kyne as gently as they could on a makeshift sling and took him off to his bedroom, where he was to be laid out upon his bed.
As soon as everything and everyone was inside and the kitchen door had been closed behind them, Rose flew into Mae’s arms and gave her a fierce hug.
“I was so worried about you,” Rose said.
Mae hugged her back, gently rubbing her back. “I thought you were going to stay with the sisters,” she said. “And help Captain Hink repair the Tin Swift.”
Mr. Wicks moved around to stand at the opposite side of the table, keeping it between him and Wil, who paced the kitchen hungrily. Cedar knew his brother hadn’t had enough to eat, so he walked off to the kitchen’s larder to see if Kyne had any meats hanging.
A pork hock was wrapped and set on a shelf, and Cedar took it, unwrapped the cloth, and brought it out for Wil.
Wil sniffed it, then took the bone in his jaws and walked—purposely—past Mr. Wicks, eyeing him the whole time, then settled in a corner where he could watch the door and all the people in the room.
“And then I thought I’d be better off on my own,” Rose was saying to Mae. The two women were busy at the stove now, stoking the fire and heating water.
“Can I help?” Cedar asked.
“Not yet,” Mae said. “You should eat, if you have the stomach for it.”
Cedar glanced over at the man standing, not exactly nervously, more like with heightened awareness, behind the table.
“Mr. Wicks, is it?” Cedar asked.
“Thomas,” he said. “Thomas Wicks.”
“Hungry?”
“Starving.”
Cedar gestured toward the larder and Wicks accompanied him there.
“What part of this brings your involvement, Mr. Wicks?” Cedar asked.
“I found myself aboard a train with Miss Small and Captain Hink. I’m afraid I’m just a bit caught up in their wake.”
Cedar found a round of cheese and a loaf of flat bread. He pulled both out, and a handful of dried apples.
<
br /> “Let’s not lean on falsehoods,” Cedar said. “You have a stake in this, or you’d have run down your own road and let us go our way.”
“You’re a perceptive man, Mr. Hunt,” he said. “Perceptive enough to know a man doesn’t reveal his secrets indiscriminately.”
“Then I’ll set my stake in this straight for you, Mr. Wicks. I am bound to the Madder brothers by a promise given. I will lay my life down for most the people in this church.” He turned so he could glare down at the slight stranger. “And if you cross me, or otherwise cause harm to these people, I will break you in two and feed you to my wolf.”
Mr. Wicks swallowed, his color going a shade paler than just a moment before. “Do I look like a man you need to threaten, Mr. Hunt?”
“You said I was a perceptive man. Has your opinion changed?”
Mr. Wicks smiled, and there was cunning, maybe even delight, in his eyes. He was impressed Cedar had seen through his bumbling greenhorn act.
“No, Mr. Hunt. It hasn’t changed a bit. Where did you school?”
Here it was Cedar’s turn to be impressed. “East.”
Wicks nodded. “Strange how our roads lead us onward, isn’t it?”
“I’ve no complaints.”
“Other than fraternizing with escaped criminals?”
“Is that what you are?”
The corner of his mouth twitched again. “No. Not exactly.”
“Then this isn’t fraternizing. Exactly.” Cedar handed him the dried apples and pushed past him out of the larder.
Cedar drew his pocketknife and shaved off a thick wedge of cheese while he walked back to the kitchen, then placed the cheese and bread on the table. The cheese was a bit sharp but surprisingly rich. To better fill his stomach, he tore off a chunk of the bread and ate that too. Then Mae was pressing a small cup of tea into his hands.
“You won’t need to drink much of this, just a swallow or two. It’s very bitter.”
Cedar sniffed it and pulled his eyebrows up. “What’s it for?”
“The binding.”
“Binding?” Mr. Wicks said. “What do you mean by that?”
Mae glanced over at the man. “I mean that I’m a witch, Mr. Wicks. And I intend to cast a spell to bind health to Father Kyne. Mr. Hunt has offered to be a part of that spell.”
Wicks’s gaze darted to Rose. Rose just shrugged. “She is telling you the truth, Thomas. It won’t change one whit whether you believe her or not.”
“I…” he began, then recovered his wits. “I’ve just never met a, uh, a woman who so willingly claims to follow such…preoccupations.”
“Have you drank it yet?” Mae asked Cedar.
He took a breath, held it, then sucked down two mouthfuls of the vile tea. He didn’t know what she’d put in it, but wouldn’t rule out boiled leather and rusted nails.
“Good. I think this will be best done near Father Kyne.”
Cedar stood. He hadn’t noticed Wil, who padded up silently next to him. If he had, he might have been fast enough to stop him from standing and placing his paws on the table. Might have even been fast enough to stop him from lapping up the remaining tea in the cup.
“No,” Cedar said.
Wil was near Cedar’s height when he was up on his back legs like this. And his eyes were those of a man, not beast. He knew very well what he was offering by drinking that tea. He was offering to help carry the burden of Father Kyne’s life.
“Wil,” Cedar said. “You should not do this.”
Wil dropped down onto all fours, looked up at Cedar, then at Mae, and walked out the door toward Father Kyne’s bedroom.
“Mae, I don’t want you binding Wil’s life to this.”
Mae pressed her lips together, her hand on the tatting shuttle she wore around her neck. She only held that shuttle when she was very uncertain or frightened. But right now she looked like she was working a complex formula in her mind, or going through an unfamiliar dance to set each step in her memory.
“It might be better,” she finally said. “No, it will be better. Two lives, two men’s strength and health will lighten the burden. And he is also bound to Wil. Yes.” Her soft brown gaze rested on him. “This is right. This is the best choice we can make.”
“Then let’s get it done.” Cedar didn’t hear anyone approaching the church yet, but it was only a matter of time. The faster they dealt with Father Kyne, the faster they could come up with a plan that included getting Mae, Miss Dupuis, and Rose out of this city.
Cedar strode off to Father Kyne’s bedroom, and found the Madders gathered there, staring down at him. Captain Hink had found a chair and was sitting in it, his head resting against the wall. He didn’t look in top shape.
The beast gave Cedar sharp senses, and in this room he could smell the deep, old blood weeping from Father Kyne’s wounds, and also the fresh blood dripping out of Captain Hink. From the sweat on Hink’s face and stink of pain, he knew the airship captain hadn’t come out of that jailbreak unscathed.
“So, Mr. Hunt,” Alun said. “We’ve returned the man to his own bed to die. A decent gesture. And now it’s time for you to fulfill your promise to us.”
“You’ll have your promise,” Cedar said. “But you’ll wait.”
“I grow tired of waiting, Mr. Hunt.” Alun turned, and so did the other two Madder brothers, as if they were all soldiers in a line.
“We are all tired of waiting,” they said with one voice.
There were times, like this right here, when Cedar questioned just what, exactly, the Madders were. They’d once told him they could talk to stone. They’d parlayed promises with him that cut deep as any metal shackle, and they seemed bent on a mission to retrieve the Holder, no matter the man, creature, or law that stood in their way.
But they did not go about their business as ordinary men might.
Cedar turned away from them. “What do you need from me?” he asked Mae.
“Just a drop of your blood,” she said. “Please, brothers Madder, if you’ll move aside, I’ll do this quickly.”
The brothers didn’t move, didn’t exchange a single word, but then, all at the same moment, they seemed to exhale, losing that intensity they had just possessed.
“You are a man made of steel will, Mr. Hunt,” Alun said. Then, “What have you cooked up now, Mrs. Lindson? Some spell to get us our Holder, I hope.”
“No, a spell to bind strength and health to Father Kyne, Mr. Madder.”
“You think it a kindness to prolong a man’s death?”
“I think it a kindness to save his life.”
The Madders moved out of the way and Cedar stepped up by the bedside along with Wil. Cedar used his pocketknife to nick his finger, drawing a red bead there.
“And Wil,” Mae said.
Wil put his left paw on the edge of the bed and Cedar drew blood near his claw.
Mae had a white handkerchief with pretty blue and yellow flowers embroidered in the corners. She dabbed the cloth in Wil’s blood, then pressed it against Cedar’s finger.
“This won’t hurt,” she whispered to him. She stood so close all thoughts were washed from his mind, replaced with only the need to hold her, to have her.
“I know,” he whispered back.
And then Mae turned to Father Kyne.
She began humming, then singing a soft song with words Cedar did not understand. They caught at him and carried him along, and the room, the danger, the worry of the world was, for one blessed moment, lifted from his shoulders and mind.
The song was Mae, her voice, her soul, her love, and he wanted to lose himself in her forever.
Then she pressed the folded handkerchief with their blood into the wound over Father Kyne’s heart.
And all the world came back to Cedar, bringing with it pain.
Rose stood just inside the bedroom door. There wasn’t a lot of room in there with all the people gathered around the bed. Miss Dupuis and Mr. Wicks waited in the hall, talking softly. She even heard Miss Du
puis laugh once, a rare sound from a woman who had lost her longtime companion and lover only a few months ago.
Thomas was charming. She’d certainly fallen for his smooth manners. Rose glanced down the hall. Thomas and Miss Dupuis leaned on opposite sides of the hall, drinking tea. Miss Dupuis was a beautiful woman. Refined, poised, elegant. Somehow, even with all the wind and dirt, and running from the law, she had remained composed, not even a ruffle out of place or smudged.
Rose sighed. She’d just have to face that she’d never have that kind of grace. She was dirty, tattered, and her hair had come undone from its pins. She had other skills, though: metal and steam and cog. She didn’t worry about her abilities in that area. She had a hands-on knack for the tinkering and devising things of the world.
Those skills were just as worthy as being able to stroll comfortably though social situations or remember which fork you were supposed to stab your vegetables with. Weren’t they?
She looked back in the bedroom, and found Hink staring at her. He was sitting in the only chair, his arms crossed over his belly, his hat on his thigh, leaning back with both legs out, taking up the walking space. He looked a little pale, his hair slicked with sweat from the run he’d just taken.
He must be in pain from the bullet wound he’d gotten on the train, but he just raised one eyebrow and gave her a smile. “How do you like the horizon so far, Miss Small?” he asked. “Adventurous enough for you?”
She nodded. “Plenty, thanks. Maybe I should see to your wound.”
“Don’t worry. I’m just catching my breath.”
She took a step into the room. “You are an incorrigible liar, Captain Hink.”
“Call me Lee.”
“All right, then. You are an incorrigible liar, Lee.”
That made him smile a little more. “Aren’t I just?”
He stood and closed the distance between them. She was caught once again by the sheer mass of the man, tall enough he had to duck doorways and with shoulders wide enough to send him at a tilt through hallways, corridors, and other tight spaces.
No wonder he loved the sky. There was all the space a man of his construction could want for.
“You’re thinking about the Swift, aren’t you?” he asked as he stopped in front of her.