“Did you tell him?” Iris asked softly.
Tiberius shook his head. “How could I explain something I’m not even sure I believe?”
Iris ducked her head. “I understand. I come from a world where secrets are always part of the trade. I hope your silence is for the better.”
Iris retook her position at the back of the line.
Before the trio ventured into the fir forest, Tiberius and Doc Tucker accompanied Iris back to her camp. She’d insisted upon gathering some of her potions before Tiberius faced Maxwell again.
The two men guarded her wagon’s door, listening to the clinking of bottles as Iris put them inside her bag.
Tiberius stared at the dead fire pit. “Maxwell Donahue has taken over the silver mine. He found an entrance to some hidden tunnels, killed Obadiah Whitlock, and enslaved a group of miners to dig the silver for him.”
Doc Tucker looked at him blankly. “And I thought Souls Well couldn’t get any worse…” He shivered “Did he steal the missing bodies too?”
Tiberius kept silent. Iris’ black horse neighed, as if the animal somehow understood the sheriff’s fear. “I believe he did, but I still haven’t figured out why,” he finally said.
This half-truth haunted Tiberius’ mind, heavier even than a full lie, every time he turned his head and saw Doc Tucker walking behind him though the silent forest, snuggling in his old coat.
Tiberius had insisted Doc Tucker go back to town and wait there, but Doc Tucker would hear none of it. The doctor felt it was his duty to help the enslaved miners and close the silver mine for good, and would hang on to his only chance for redemption, his only way to ease the guilt that had crept inside his soul since the avalanche took away his only son.
What would happen when Doc Tucker saw Jonathan again? Would his joy of embracing his son be enough to make him overlook the rotten flesh, dead eyes and disfigured mouth, forever shut with molten metal? As much as the possibilities disquieted him, Tiberius would have to tackle problems one at a time.
Without the whip of the snowstorm, they reached the black rock faster than Tiberius had the night before. Iris opened her satchel and placed different potions on the snow with motherly care, while Tiberius moved the brambles and revealed the entrance to the hidden tunnels.
“Are we all clear? Doc?” Tiberius asked.
“As soon as all the miners are out—” Doc Tucker grabbed one of the bottles hastily. “—I throw this bottle, and kaboom.”
“Gentle, Doctor. You don’t want to drop it, believe me,” Iris said.
She picked one round, glass vial and shook it. It glowed with a blue halo.
“The Light of Khonsu. It will light your way. If you need to hide, just shake it twice.” She did and its glow faded.
Iris took off her linen belt. She tied the bottle to it and then held another vial up to sun. Its colors twirled like a dancing flame.
“Hephaestion. One of alchemy’s oldest formulas. A couple of drops are enough to melt any metal.”
Iris attached the red potion to her belt. Then she reached for the remaining bottle.
“Perkunos’ Gold. This is the same as the one you have, Doctor.”
“Why are you bringing that one with you, Tiberius?” Doc Tucker had become very agitated.
“If things get real bad, I’ll have to stay behind and blow the tunnels from the inside. Just remember, whatever happens, make sure the miners make it to safety.”
“All of this is madness, I tell you.”
“I’m taking a leap of faith here, Doc. We all are.”
Iris nodded with a solemn expression. She tied her golden potion to the belt and handed it to Tiberius. As he wrapped the belt around his waist, Tiberius asked himself when he’d turned into a man who puts his faith in myths and legends–and if that make-believe would cost him his life.
Tiberius faced the dim slope that went under the mountain, forcing away the grim memories of his last visit to the tunnels. “I need to know that I can count on you, Doc. No matter what happens or what you see next.”
Doc Tucker sighed. “You know you can, Tiberius.”
“If you see as much of a shadow that resembles The Tanager, run to town as fast as your legs can take you. I’ll be fine.”
Doc Tucker opened his mouth to complain, but decided otherwise and just nodded.
Iris kissed Tiberius on the cheek. “I guess this is goodbye. Good luck.”
“If this man had ever relied on luck, he wouldn’t have lasted this long.” Doc Tucker squeezed Tiberius’ shoulder.
Tiberius tapped the brim of his hat and stepped into the shadows, about to enter a nightmare he might never wake up from.
XXVII
Darkness. Tiberius shook the Light of Khonsu and used its blue glow to guide him through the secret mine. He walked the silent, empty tunnels engulfed in the soft light of his alchemical lantern.
He soon reached the wider passage. The torches on the walls were now unlit. Tiberius followed the tunnel, deeper into the lion’s den. If Maxwell thought him dead, he could use the element of surprise to his advantage. But if he didn’t, Tiberius expected to find The Tanager by his side, ready to finish the job. Truth was, it didn’t really matter. There was no turning back either way.
Tiberius tripped on some rusty, unfinished cart rails on the ground and almost dropped his magic lantern. Farther into the rocky passage, he finally heard the resonating pickaxes. He shook the glowing bottle twice and its light faded out, then he advanced towards the flickering light at the end of the tunnel.
Tiberius took cover behind a corner and peeked inside the opening. It led to a cavern like the one he’d seen the night before, but bigger and streaked top to bottom with those sparkling veins of silver. The light of the torches tinted every corner in shades of red and orange and made the sparkling walls dance. The cavern beat like the insides of a burning ember, and the shimmering rock seemed to breathe, almost as if it were alive.
The miners cast their tired, silent shadows on the glimmering walls. Tiberius found it hard to watch the trapped men, who after losing their lives under piles of deadly snow, had found an undeserving hell on the other side. Alone, confused, unable to cry for help, their lips brutally welded shut.
Maxwell Donahue reigned over them, a king on a throne of silver and bone, of blood and sweat, of tears. He represented the beginning of a new era of horror, where people would be robbed not only of their freedom, but of their right to die and stay dead. Maxwell mocked Death herself, but a bullet would pierce the salesman’s heart just as it would anyone else’s, and Tiberius would be the one holding the smoking gun.
Tiberius counted the men. Eleven. All of the miners were there. At least Donahue had left John Hickok rest in in peace, but Tiberius was sure someone else would take his place soon enough. Tiberius made sure no one else was around, then he ran forward. Jeremiah St. Claire saw him first and elbowed his brother Zachary. One by one, the miners stopped digging and stared at Tiberius with their sunken eyes.
“Keep digging,” Tiberius whispered. “Too much silence will alert them.”
The miners resumed hitting the walls with their picks, but kept their hopeful gazes on Tiberius.
Tiberius took the Hephaestion potion from his belt and poured a small amount on Jeremiah’s shackles. It melted through the iron like it was butter. The potion splashed on the miner’s ankle, burning the skin and leaving a smoking wound, but Jeremiah didn’t seem to feel anything at all.
Tiberius recalled how his body hadn’t responded to pain when Maxwell’s silver death ran through his veins. Dead flesh would never hurt.
One by one, he melted all the miners’ chains. They shook Tiberius’ hand, their eyes full of gray tears. One of them hugged him. He smelled of soil, metal and rotten flesh. It was Jonathan Tucker.
“Maxwell Donahue is going to pay with his life, I give you my word. I won’t lie to you: you’ll die soon without that cursed potion pumping through your veins. But you’ll rest as free men, in
Souls Well’s cemetery, where you belong, where your families can visit you whenever they want.”
The miners raised their picks in a silent cheer, but the echo of approaching voices interrupted their joy.
“You know these tunnels better than anyone. Can you find the exit?”
The miners nodded, almost in unison.
“Then go. Run away from the mine and hide in the forest. I’ll meet you there,” Tiberius said.
The miners exchanged glances. Jonathan Tucker pointed at Tiberius.
“I’m not going anywhere until Donahue gets what’s coming to him. Now go!”
The miners disappeared into the blackness of the tunnel.
Tiberius sat down on a rock and tied the bottle of Hephaestion to his belt. He picked the yellow concoction, Perkunos’ Gold, and weighted the bottle in his hand.
The echo brought that velvety laughter Maxwell used to hide his evil squawking and two different set of steps. Maxwell had company.
“Why the long face? What was I supposed to do? Let that beloved sheriff of yours just run free? You’re truly naive if you think he wouldn’t hang us both in a heartbeat,” Maxwell said.
“Tiberius would never hurt me,” a woman replied.
Tiberius heart stopped as soon as he recognized that second voice.
Maxwell Donahue appeared around a rocky corner. He looked at Tiberius and laughed between his teeth. “Well, it seems you can rejoice. Look who’s back. I knew he’d be hard to kill.”
Tiberius stood up and held the golden potion up in the air. “If you know what this is, you better stop right there.”
Maxwell stared at the bottle and complied, but his awful sneer remained. The woman behind him blinked her hazel eyes. Her pale skin turned golden when she stood under the light of the torches.
“Hello, Sarah,” Tiberius said.
XXVIII
Tiberius kept his eyes on Sarah Anne. She looked so different dressed as she was now in a baggy white shirt, brown corduroy pants, and heavy work boots. Her hair was down and combed to one side. There were no ties on her white wrists. No one was pointing a gun at her. Sarah Anne didn’t seem in danger in any way. There was only one possible answer.
Tiberius noticed the barrel of the gun on his temple one second too late. Garrett Drake wrapped his cold, dead arm around his neck and stole his weapon from his holster. Drake poked Tiberius’ side with his gun so deeply it scratched his ribs. Tiberius raised his arms and held the potion tight. He could throw Perkunos’ Gold and take both Donahue and Drake down with him, but Sarah Anne would be caught in the explosion as well.
“Is that necessary, Mr. Donahue?” Sarah Anne asked.
“Just a precaution, my dear. Sheriff Tibbetts is not fond of our little business.” Maxwell walked over to Tiberius. “Ah, Perkunos’ Gold. I see you got friendly with my former associate. Now if you wouldn’t mind putting that bottle on the floor, gently.”
“I’m fine holding it, thanks.”
“You’re in no position to refuse.”
“If your minion shoots me—” Tiberius heard Drake’s grunt behind his back. “—we all die today.”
Maxwell grinned. “Very well then. Let’s talk like civilized men, shall we?”
“What are you doing here, Sarah?” Tiberius asked.
Sarah Anne said nothing.
“Why do you think? This lady knows a good opportunity when she sees one. She has her father’s mind for business. And better looks!” Maxwell smirked.
Tiberius tensed and Drake’s gun poked him deeper.
“Please, tell him to lower his gun,” Sarah Anne begged.
“Your wish is my command.” Maxwell nodded to Garret Drake.
Drake put the gun away. Then he kicked the back of Tiberius’ legs hard, forcing Tiberius to kneel.
“Careful, you idiot!” Maxwell yelled. “If he drops that bottle we all go!”
Drake grunted again, like a boar. Sarah Anne helped Tiberius stand up. She hugged him and tried to take the potion off his hand.
Tiberius moved away from her. “Why, Sarah? Did he threaten you?”
Maxwell laughed. “Threaten her? On the contrary, Sheriff. It was she who came to me.”
“It’s complicated.” That was all she said.
“We both will be dead in a minute, Sarah Anne. There’s no time to hold secrets.”
“No one’s going to die, Tiberius,” Sarah Anne replied.
Maxwell smiled wolfishly.
“My family,” Sarah Anne continued, “had been in lots of financial trouble after the avalanche and the closing of the silver mine. My father was an ambitious man. He had projects all over the West that now he couldn’t finish. He kept appearances, but had debts up to his neck.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Shame, I suppose.”
“Then I came along.” Maxwell took a bow.
“Mr. Donahue and his partner offered to buy the silver my father had gathered before the avalanche for a more than fair amount of money. But my father was a proud man. He refused. How could I sit there and watch as he let all of our fortune vanish in front of our noses?”
Sarah Anne paced around the sparkling cave. “I know every inch of this mine. Every night I sneaked into my father’s study and memorized every map, document, contract and note. That’s how I found out about my family’s debts and how I discovered the hidden tunnels. I had a mine full of silver, and a new partner to help me dig it.”
“How could you reopen the mine, Sarah? Do you want another avalanche to wipe the whole town?” Tiberius couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice, nor did he try to.
“Of course not. The avalanche was an unfortunate accident, that’s all. There’s no reason it should happen again.”
“And I made sure no one would lose their life if it did.” Maxwell grinned.
Tiberius fought his intense urge to just let the potion go and put an end to the insanity.
“Why did you let them shoot your father in cold blood? He was defenseless,” the sheriff said.
Sarah Anne sneered. “My father was a murderer. He killed poor Lucy Mills and her unborn child. You would’ve hanged him in the morning anyway.”
“No, I wouldn’t have. Because he didn’t kill Lucy, Sarah.” Tiberius pointed to Maxwell. “He did.”
Maxwell tapped the wall with his ivory cane. “You’ve accused me of that crime twice, and twice you’ve been wrong, Sheriff. I didn’t even know Miss Mills.”
“Lucy was poisoned. By the same poison you put inside me. Your silver death.”
“Silver Death. That’s what’s you call it? Charming! I might steal that name, if you don’t mind.”
Tiberius recalled the pretty candy box on Lucy’s nightstand and its colorful wrappers. He felt sick.
“You gave Lucy a box of poisoned treats. You’re a monster, Donahue.”
“I gave a lot of people a lot of things. Isn’t that right, Miss Whitlock?”
Sarah Anne said nothing.
Tiberius took a step towards Maxwell, but stopped when Drake cocked his gun. “If you’ve poisoned someone else…”
Maxwell leaned against the wall with his hands behind his neck. “How stupid do you think I am? No one would buy my tonics ever again if I poisoned half a town, would they? First and foremost, I’m a tradesman, Sheriff.”
Maxwell grabbed Sarah Anne’s arm and pulled her close with a fast, feline move. Then he placed a thick, glass syringe on her neck, close to a pulsating artery.
“So, let’s trade. Gently put that potion on the floor, or Miss Whitlock will share the same fate as the saloon girl.”
Maxwell held Sarah Anne closer still. He scratched her neck with the sharp needle and a thin stream of blood ran down her white skin.
“Tiberius, I’m so sorry,” Sarah Anne sobbed.
“It’s alright, Sarah. Just don’t move.”
Tiberius bent slowly and placed the golden potion on the ground. Then he took two steps back, Drake breathing down the bac
k of his neck. Maxwell pushed Sarah Anne away, and she landed on her flank by Tiberius’ feet.
Tiberius held her hand and helped her up. Her touch felt different, and her eyes were the eyes of a stranger. Tiberius tried to see the face he’d fallen in love with, but a bitter acknowledgment blurred Sarah Anne’s features: even if they’d refused to see it, they’ve always been a world apart.
Maxwell picked up Perkunos’ Gold, uncorked the bottle, and poured the content of his syringe inside. The potion turned brown, then black. He dropped it. It crashed leaving a smoking puddle behind.
“Yes, I bluffed. I would never waste my best recipe to kill you, my dear. It’s too precious and hard to make.” Maxwell waved his hand to Drake. “Shoot them both.”
Sarah Anne gasped. “What are you doing, Maxwell?”
“Oh, please! Don’t look so surprised. I raised men from the dead to do my bidding, I obviously have no scruples. All this silver is so pure, so powerful, and no one knows the existence of these tunnels but me. Even if those miners Sheriff Tibbetts so heroically freed made it to the surface, I can bring them back. If not them, the graveyard is full of volunteers. I can even bring your father back as part of my loyal workforce, Miss Whitlock. If that’s not poetic justice, then what is?”
Maxwell curved his lips, showing them all of his perfect, white teeth. “Deal’s off.”
Sarah Anne held Tiberius’ hand and squeezed. The smooth skin that had warmed Tiberius for so many nights now felt cold and rough like pumice.
But Tiberius wouldn’t refuse her a last act of kindness.
He squeezed back.
XXIX
“The miners ain’t coming back. But I sure am,” Tiberius said suddenly.
Maxwell raised his hand and Drake held his shot.
“Care to elaborate?” Maxwell asked, amused.
“I told the miners to run as far as possible from the mine.”
“So be it. Without my elixir, they’ll drop like flies in a matter of hours. I just need to make sure the wake up back here, where they belong.”
Silver & Bone (American Alchemy - Wild West Book 1) Page 13