Maxwell had taken the bait. Now it was time to pull the fish out of the water.
Tiberius smiled. “They’ll be alive and well for a long time. Or at least that’s how Iris explained it to me.”
Maxwell laughed wholeheartedly. “Iris! That’s ridiculous. She knows nothing besides stupid beauty tonics and party tricks.”
Maxwell hid behind a layer of disdain, but Tiberius caught the shadow of a doubt crossing his groomed face. Drake had lowered his gun. He was listening.
“You’re wrong. She figured out your recipe days ago. How else would I be back? No one could recover from the silver death.”
Sarah Anne shook Tiberius’ arm. “Have you lost your mind, Tiberius?” she whispered.
Maxwell dismissed the sheriff’s words with a condescending wave of his hand. “Nonsense. You somehow survived the poison, that’s all.” He paused. “Why would she bring you back, anyway?”
“To take you down. No risk in sending a dead man to die. You learned for the best, didn’t you Donahue?”
“You’re a bigger idiot than I thought, Sheriff.”
Maxwell drew a small, golden pistol from under his velvet jacket and pointed directly at Tiberius’ chest.
“Go ahead, shoot me. It won’t do you any good. Iris figured out your little secret and shared it with me. You found the formula to make a man immortal. You’ve been giving a weaker version of the potion to the miners, so they depended on you to survive.”
Drake grumbled.
Maxwell cocked his gun. “Enough chit-chat.”
Tiberius scoffed. “Now I finally understand. I wondered how you could keep someone as wild as The Tanager under your thumb. You just tricked him into believing he needed you.” Tiberius turned and faced the gunslinger. “How does it feel to be a puppet, Drake?”
Drake grimaced and pointed his gun straight at Tiberius’ forehead.
“I’ll be still standing after you pull the trigger, and long after. You, on the other hand, will be a corpse again in a matter of hours. That man never intended to free you. You’ve been fooled.”
Drake pushed Tiberius away and ran towards Maxwell, his face twisted into the same beastly expression that Tiberius had seen after he’d seized him outside his mountain hideout.
“Stop! He’s lying!” Maxwell screamed.
Drake’s bullet hit Maxwell in his thigh. Maxwell fired back and blew Drake’s fingers off. Drake’s gun flew from his stump and landed on the floor, its handle splattered with gray, sparkling blood.
Drake howled. Maxwell had to hold his pistol with both hands to keep it steady.
“I brought you back! And this is how you pay me? You would be nothing but food for the vultures if I’d left you hanging in the gallows!” Maxwell shot.
The bullets hit Drake plain on his chest but had no effect. The gunslinger fell on Maxwell like a black bear. Maxwell dropped his gun and they crashed to the rocky floor of the cavern. Drake pummeled Maxwell’s sternum and scratched his face with his long, dirty nails. Maxwell shielded his eyes with his hand and threw blind punches and kicks.
Drake and Maxwell rolled on the floor in a bloody whirlwind, screaming and bellowing like two bison fighting for the dominance of the herd. Drake bit Maxwell’s cheek and spat out a chunk of raw flesh. Maxwell placed his thumbs on Drake’s eyes and pushed hard. Drake grabbed his wrists and twisted them in an unnatural angle until they gave in with a nauseating crack.
Tiberius grabbed Drake’s gun, shaking the dead fingers that still stuck around its grip. Then he pulled Sarah Anne’s arm. “Run!”
He only turned once as they darted through the exit tunnel and glimpsed the gunslinger kneeling over a motionless Maxwell Donahue. Drake’s clothes, hands and face were bathed in crimson blood. He kept stabbing Maxwell with his own syringe in a bloodthirsty frenzy.
Tiberius and Sarah Anne ran into the tunnels without a definite direction, just deeper into the darkness until Drake’s animalistic grunts faded away in the distance. Sarah Anne stopped, out of breath. Tiberius shook the Light of Khonsu and its soft glow embraced them both like a bubble of blue light.
“Are you alright, Sarah?” he whispered.
“I think so.”
He shook his head, tiredly. “How could you go along with Maxwell’s plan? You knew the miners, their families.”
“You don’t understand, Tiberius. Without the silver mine, my family has nothing. I have nothing.”
“Maxwell brought innocent men back to life as slaves. And you looked the other way.”
“No. I didn’t know, I promise. When I found out, it was too late. I’m sorry, Tiberius. I’m so afraid—”
Sarah Anne sobbed and placed her head on Tiberius’ shoulder. He allowed it, but kept his arms down and his body rigid.
Between Sarah Anne’s whines sounded a soft tick, tick, tick. Each and every one of them a pin burrowing deeper into Tiberius’ heart.
Tiberius grabbed her by her shoulders and pushed her away. “How did you know Lucy was pregnant?”
Sarah’s tears dried up as fast as they’d started flowing. “What do you mean?”
“When we were in the cavern with Donahue, you said your father had killed Lucy and her unborn child. No one knew she was pregnant, not even Madame Valentine. No one but your father.”
“He told me.”
Tick, tick, tick.
Tiberius nodded. “Maybe so.”
Tick, tick, tick.
Tiberius placed the glowing potion on the ground. Then he held Sarah Anne close and put his hand inside the pocket of her pants. The golden watch and its matching chain twinkled in his hand.
“This is your father’s watch, isn’t it?” Tiberius asked.
“He gave it to me.”
“No, he didn’t. He had no idea where his watch had gone last time I talked to him. At first, I thought he was lying, but now I know he wasn’t. Neither was Maxwell Donahue when he denied killing Lucy.”
Sarah Anne tried to break free, but Tiberius held her left wrist tight. “Let me go, Tiberius. You’re frightening me.”
Silence. The glimmering halo of the potion flickered.
“The saddest part is I’ve never truly known you, Sarah. When you first arrived to Souls Well, everyone wondered how it was possible that Obadiah Whitlock’s sweet, beautiful daughter was still unmarried. When you chose me, a man way below your upbringing, I was foolish enough to consider myself lucky, even if you rejected my marriage proposal time and again. But it was never about me, was it?”
Sarah Anne held his gaze. “No.”
“It was always about the silver. You were Obadiah’s only heir. You just had to wait and the mine would be all yours. But if you married, your husband would gain control. Then you met Maxwell Donahue and decided to speed up the process.”
“I don’t understand.”
Tiberius waved the watch in front of Sarah’s big eyes, like a hypnotist. “You knew I’d argued with your father over this same watch. You knew I’d recognize the marks of its chain on Lucy’s neck. The marks you left for me to find. Should I go on?”
Sarah Anne said nothing. Tiberius closed his palm around the watch.
Tick, tick, tick.
“Lucy Mills was pregnant with your father’s baby. And I suspect he wanted to acknowledge the child as his. If the baby was a male, you’d kiss your inheritance goodbye. You couldn’t take any chances, could you? Maxwell sold you the poison, but it was you who gave Lucy the candy box. A deadly peace offering. Tell me I’m wrong, Sarah!”
The barrel of a derringer pistol appeared against Tiberius’ stomach. “Let me go, Tiberius. Now.”
Tiberius complied. Sarah Anne walked to the edge of the blue light, both her chin and her gun up, her pulse steady. Shadows covered half of her face.
“Not only did my father want to acknowledge Lucy’s child, he told her to pack and come live with us, as a member of our family. A saloon girl living in our house. Wife, daughter and mistress under the same roof. Just imagine the gossip, th
e humiliation.” Her voice sounded so different, spiteful and full of venom. “My mother would never confront my father. He always treated her like a lapdog, and she ended up believing that was her place. But I wouldn’t let him drag me through the mud.”
Tiberius lowered his hand to his hip.
“Don’t,” Sarah Anne said.
Tiberius raised his hands. “Who are you, Sarah?”
“In this time and place, I’m no one, Tiberius. You’d never understand the feeling of being looked down on day after day just because of your sex. I was raised to pass from my father’s care to my husband’s, have no say in the matter, and be thankful for it.”
“That’s no excuse for what you’ve done.”
“Don’t you dare preach. You wanted to control me as much as any other man. For you I was nothing but a trophy, a way of spiting my father.”
“I loved you.”
“I don’t believe you. You said it yourself: you don’t even know me. You just saw in me what you wanted to see. Like everyone else.”
Ti, fa, la, mi.
Drake’s eerie whistling echoed in the tunnels behind him.
Sarah Anne cocked her gun. “Time’s up. Goodbye, Sheriff Tibbetts.” She shot.
The Light of Khonsu shattered with a blinding flash. Tiberius shaded his eyes with his hand and leaped forward. He caught nothing but a hint of Sarah Anne’s sweet scent floating in the air and the distant tapping of her swift feet as she run deeper into the tunnel. Darkness returned.
Ti, fa, la, mi.
As much as bitterness clouded his judgment, as much as he wanted to pursue the woman he’d once loved and asked her why a million times, he knew he had to let her go.
Ti, fa, la, mi.
Tiberius turned on his heels and walked towards the source of the deathly whistled melody.
XXX
Hours ago, those labyrinthine, rocky passages, with their darkness, coldness, and damp, had been The Tanager’s hunting grounds, his endless whistling a deadly chant. But this time, Tiberius embraced his fate, ready to perform his duty as sheriff for the last time.
All thing considered, Souls Well had enjoyed happiness longer than it had endured defeat. It inspired Tiberius, somehow. People faced adversity with an unbreakable will, relying on their families, their jobs, or a bottle of rye, always standing tall. But the avalanche buried every joyful memory the town had ever had, and Garrett Drake infected the townsfolk with a deep sickening fear, with prickling distrust. Maxwell Donahue would put the last nail on the coffin. Souls Well would become relevant again, yes, but also infamous.
Tiberius could count the people who’d miss him with just one hand: Doc Tucker, Father Darley, two or three of his neighbors. Maybe Sarah Anne too. He wanted to believe she still had a heart, even if tainted with malice and greed. Maybe Iris, the mysterious woman who’d showed him an enticing but terrifying other world. They’d all move on and Tiberius would be soon forgotten, devoured by the mountain.
Drake’s steps synchronized with the constant dripping of the stalactites. It took a grisly resurrection for Tiberius to understand the gunslinger’s hidden motives. Drake never cared for richness or power. The only thing he’d ever wanted was to become a tenebrous legend--for every future generation to tremble when they heard his name. Eternal depravity.
How many hours longer would Donahue’s life elixir work? Maybe Drake’s life force had already failed him, as it had John Hickok. But maybe not. If his reanimation lasted for at least a day, The Tanager would have more than enough time to win him his part on the bloodiest pages of western history. Tiberius would have to make sure Drake never left the tunnels and caverns, dragging him back to hell even if he had to take him hand in hand.
Tiberius remembered a ditty from his childhood and started whistling.
Fa, fa, la, la.
It brought back the memory of a group of kids enjoying a summer day by the riverside, careless and free under the pines. That morning little Lucy Mills had slapped Tiberius then giggled after he stole a quick kiss from her. Tiberius’ whistled melody carried the bright recollections of better times. It lifted the curse on Drake’s eerie song.
Drake’s steps came closer but he whistled no more. Instead, a rattling sound came from his undead lungs: a burst of laughter. Tiberius whistled again, unafraid. Drake was out for his blood. If he got it, it wouldn’t be tainted with the bitter taste of fear.
Ti, fa, la, mi.
Fa, fa, la, la.
Two sets of steps. Two whistled melodies ready to collide.
A line of torches glimmered ahead of Tiberius. Someone had lit the trail that marked the main tunnel, but Tiberius had no need to find the exit of the hidden mine. His only mission was to delay The Tanager long enough for Doc Tucker to blow the whole thing down.
Tiberius waited and whistled louder.
Fa, fa, la, la.
The crooked silhouette of Garrett Drake became clearer as the gunslinger advanced under the amber light of the torches. His wounds looked deeper, gray streaks pouring from the cuts and between his sharp, grinning teeth, running down his jaw and drenching the collar of his muddy shirt. Drake’s face was the reflection of a nightmare on a shattered mirror.
“What the heck’s taking you so long?” Tiberius taunted.
Ti, fa, la, mi. Drake replied. Those four notes had the pitch of a cracked flute and the strength of a wolf’s howl.
“I should’ve thrown your dead body to the coyotes,” Tiberius said when they stood face to face, sheriff and outlaw, man and monster.
Drake smiled horribly. He held Maxwell’s golden pistol in his left hand, pointed at the sheriff. Its size looked ridiculous in his big, callous fist. Not that the size of the weapon mattered, it could still put a bullet through Tiberius’ heart.
Tiberius took a step forward. “Go ahead. We both know that’ll do you no good.”
Drake lowered the gun. He raised his mutilated right hand, now three fingers short, to his mouth and let the silver blood fall down his throat, then wiped his lips with the back of his dirty sleeve.
Tiberius smirked. “I didn’t know you enjoyed theatrics. You want the juice that makes me immortal, is that right? Well, then come get it.”
Tiberius rocked his feet and whistled.
Fa, fa, la, la.
Drake took a warning shot by the sheriff’s feet. Tiberius crossed his arms, defiant. He had to protect his charade.
“Read my lips, Drake. You’re not leaving these tunnels. Even if I have to keep you company for all eternity.”
The gunslinger roared. He threw the pistol away and charged like a bull. Tiberius jumped away just in time to avoid his fatal embrace, but not before Drake’s head hit his lower ribs and threw him off balance. Tiberius rolled on the dusty floor.
Just a bit longer.
Tiberius staggered to his feet, lips tightly shut to hide the pain. “Now we’re talking”
He punched Drake straight in his jaw, and the gunslinger’s head bent all the way back, as if his neck were made of rubber. Drake pushed his head forward and stared at Tiberius with bloodied eyes then threw two fast, mighty blows. Tiberius leaped to the side.
“Too slow.” Tiberius pushed Drake back with a fast kick. “I can go on forever. You on the other hand… I can’t wait to see you drop after Donahue’s potion dries inside your veins.”
Where’s the explosion? Come on, Doc. Blow the damned thing.
The Tanager grimaced, raising his fist. Then he squinted, and froze.
“What’s going on, Drake? Death’s already claiming you back?”
Drake clicked his tongue and smiled just as Tiberius felt warmth running down his nose and tasted the salty flavor of his own blood. Not cold, not gray, but the tepid, red blood of a pumping heart, of a mortal man.
Tiberius ran. If he could lose Drake back in the tunnels, that would buy some more time. But Drake moved fast as a cat and caught his ankles. Tiberius fell flat on his chest and lost his breath. One cold hand around his neck lifted him fr
om the ground .
Tiberius tried to pry Drake’s fingers open, but the gunslinger’s rough grip tightened around his throat. His broken nails stabbed Tiberius’ skin. Tiberius wheezed and fought not to lose consciousness. He couldn’t let go.
Blow the tunnels. Bury us here. Please.
Drake’s deranged eyes shone with triumph and hatred. The last thing Tiberius would ever see would be the demented gaze of his murderer.
XXXI
A swinging shadow. Drake arched like a harpooned beast and dropped Tiberius on the hard, rocky ground. The blade of a pick stuck in the gunslinger’s back, wedged deep between his shoulder blades. Dusty boots moved all around Tiberius’ hazy eyes.
Drake howled, twisting and turning, trying to pull the pick from his flesh, while the miners hit from every angle with their sharp tools. A man helped Tiberius to his feet. He had the same kind eyes his father did.
The miners swung their picks with fierce determination, but they were dogs facing a lion. Drake grabbed the handle of the pick that hung from his back and tore it out then buried it in Julian Grandall’s head. Julian trembled, his eyes widened, and his sealed lips muffled a scream, but he attacked back, the pick sticking from the crown of his head, like a weather vane, silver blood drenching his waxy face.
Silver flowed everywhere Tiberius looked, splattered the tunnel’s walls, and fell on the dusty ground, forming gray puddles. Tiberius tried to join the fight, but the maelstrom of bodies, metal, flesh, and bone was too ferocious. Jonathan held him back and shielded him against the wall with his body.
No matter how brutal Drake’s attacks were, the miners always recovered and came back, fighting relentlessly, Maxwell’s potion reanimating their injured bodies time and again. Drake robbed Jenkins of his pick and broke the miner’s knees then sliced Threadwell’s back and stuck the blade in his spine. Threadwell fell on his knees, placed his hands on his gut, and vomited a colorless, viscous fluid.
The Tanager grabbed Wilcox and Rowland by their necks, one in each hand, then bashed their skulls together, threw them on the ground like two haystacks, and stomped their legs, until the miners could do nothing but crawl on the floor, shaking their cracked, dazed heads, reaching blindly for the gunslinger’s legs.
Silver & Bone (American Alchemy - Wild West Book 1) Page 14