Claimed (The Flash Gold Chronicles, #4)

by Lindsay Buroker

  A shot rang out, not from the direction Cedar expected but from his side somewhere. He cursed as it whizzed past his head and clanged into the boiler against the wall. Tarnation, how many people were in here with them?

  Before he shot, Kali appeared near the office with a billows and a big bag of something. What the—

  She hurled the bag toward the spot Cedar’s attackers had been, and wood dust flew everywhere. She pumped the billows at the area, further spreading the fine brown specks. In the swirling dust storm, Cedar picked out one, then two forms crouching beside stacks of lumber. One seemed to be turning toward Kali.

  Without hesitation, Cedar shot.

  The no longer invisible form cried out and flew backward, hitting the wood pile with an audible thud. The second man was harder to pick out, but Kali kept pumping the billows, and Cedar found the disturbance in the dust. He fired again, though another shot rang out from the side. The post was covering Cedar, else he might have taken it in the head, but he threw a knife in that direction to distract the person.

  “You got these two,” Kali said, then threw one of her balls. It bounced off the floor, the metal sides opened, and a net flew out. “The third one is over there. Use the powder gun.”

  “Right.” Cedar slung the weapon off his back and pumped air to charge it. Meanwhile, Kali’s net entangled one of the men he had shot. Even if the person hadn’t come into view, the blood spattering the sawdust around him gave him away.

  Cedar fired several shots with the air gun, sending pellets out in the direction from which the man had fired at him. But that had been several seconds ago. He must have moved, for the pellets hit nothing but the wall. Fine white powder exploded into the air, but nobody stirred in it. Cedar strained his ears, listening for footsteps or creaking floorboards. Instead, he heard strange groans coming from the furnace—or was that the boiler?—behind Kali.

  “Is that furnace all right?” Cedar slipped behind another post, hoping to hide his body from the invisible man with the gun. He glanced at Andrews, making sure he wasn’t still being attacked. The kid had curled up on the floor, and blood flowed from his nose, but no one seemed to be bothering him. Although that door—

  Even as he watched, metal groaned, wood splintered, and it was flung open. Men with a homemade battering ram charged in, carried by their momentum.

  “Might be time for a retreat, Cedar,” Kali whispered from behind him. He didn’t know if she suggested it because they were outnumbered or because the furnace was damaged and unpredictable, but Cedar set his jaw.

  If Cudgel was still in there...

  “There’s blood drenching your sleeve,” Kali added, “and Travis is—”

  Cedar fired at the man leading the charge into the mill and didn’t hear the rest. He didn’t care about Travis, not if he had betrayed Kali to Cudgel, and he wasn’t ready to retreat. His first target dropped the ram and went down, clutching his chest. Before the rest of the men could turn toward him, raising their own weapons, Cedar fired twice more. He had cover; they didn’t. And they realized that quickly. The three remaining men raced back out the front door.

  A yelp of surprise came from Kali, then was muffled.

  Cedar spun in time to see her being dragged toward the side door, her mouth mashed, as if a hand were across it; though, of course, nothing was visible. He lifted the rifle, gauging where her attacker had to have her. The man—Cudgel?—was deliberately keeping Kali in front of him, but Cedar trusted his aim.

  Kali’s eyes widened. She was either worried about his shot or had recovered enough to gather her wits, for she stomped down at the same time as she flung back an elbow. She bared her teeth as well—no, that was a bite.

  Whoever had her let her go abruptly—she pitched to the ground.

  Cedar fired, but the bullet clanged into the side of the furnace. The invisible man must have ducked—or turned and sprinted away. He switched weapons again, wrapping his hand around the air gun, and ran toward Kali.

  “I’m fine.” Kali flung her arm toward the door. “Get him!”

  Cedar fired toward the door. This time the powder pellet hit someone. It exploded, white dust filling the air and outlining a man—a man with something that looked like coattails flapping about his waist. The suit. Cudgel.

  He tried to escape through the door, but whatever Kali had done to lock it kept him from turning the knob. The figure drew back and rammed his shoulder against the wood. Cedar traded the air gun for the Winchester and took careful aim. He still couldn’t see the form well, but the head ought to be about... there.

  He fired. At the same instant, Cudgel succeeded in busting down the door. Cedar’s shot hit nothing except the frame.

  Cursing, Cedar leaped over a wood pile and raced for the door.

  A crash came from the stairs outside. Wood snapping and breaking.

  Cedar reached the door and, remembering the grease, he didn’t rush onto the landing, but made himself pause. Cudgel must have slipped and rammed into—and through—the railing. Blood spattered the jagged edges.

  The alley was full of mud and soupy puddles. Cedar couldn’t tell if someone had landed in one, but there was fine white dust on the brown muck. Tearing the air gun from his shoulder again, Cedar fired toward the mud, hoping to get lucky. The pellet struck the wall of the building next door, exploding and hurling fine white dust into the air. Unfortunately, nothing was moving in it.

  A faint click to his left warned him to duck. Cedar did, but he lunged across the landing at the same time, coming down in the mud and whirling toward the noise. A pistol fired, the flash flaring orange for a split second. Cedar pumped the air gun and shot another pellet.

  A grunt sounded, and his prey was outlined again. Wishing for more hands, Cedar switched to his rifle again. The figure was already moving, sprinting for the street at the end of the alley.

  Cedar fired at the back of the man’s head—where his head ought to be. Someone roared in pain, but the powder-limned form kept running. Cedar raced after the man—after Cudgel. It had to be Cudgel. If it wasn’t...

  No, he couldn’t lose him for doubt. He reloaded his rifle as he ran. He charged around the corner of the building and into the street, where he knelt, taking aim. He was aware that darkness hadn’t yet come fully and that people were still out on the boardwalks, but he kept his focus, kept his target in sight. The powder was flying free, leaving him less to aim at.

  Last chance...

  Cedar squeezed the trigger.

  Cudgel didn’t cry out, but the figure’s dusty outline pitched forward. The street was almost as muddy as the alley, and murky water flew up into the air. Cedar raced toward the spot, praying he had finally made the fatal shot, finally avenged his brother, and finally rid the world of a heinous killer.

  Then the sawmill exploded.

  Part VIII

  The boom thundered like a grenade going off next to Cedar’s ear. Yellow light flooded the dim street as the mill erupted, hurling wood in all directions. The force of the explosion nearly flung Cedar face-first into the mud. He flailed and caught himself—barely. Thoughts of Cudgel flew from his head as he twisted to stare at the mill.

  Kali. Was she... still inside?

  Charred boards rained down all around him. People on the street yelled and ran away, their hands covering their heads. Flames leapt through the broken windows at the front of the mill and through a giant hole in the roof. One of the walls had been blown out, and another slumped down, like a melted candle. Men lay unmoving on the boardwalk outside of the mill, the same men who had rammed down the door minutes before.

  Cedar, his legs heavy and rubbery, started for the entrance. He managed a wobbly run, though hot fear clutched at his heart. If Kali was inside and hurt...

  “You, Cedar,” someone shouted from up the street. “Stop right there.”

  Cedar glanced at the speaker but didn’t stop running. Two Mounties in their pith helmets and uniforms stood on a boardwalk half a block away. One was pointi
ng at Cedar, the other staring at the dust-covered figure lying in the mud in the center of the street, nothing of skin or clothing visible, though oddly the soles of his boots were. It was hard to tell from just the soles and from the quick glance, but Cedar thought they might indeed be Cudgel’s alligator-hide boots. Another time—any other time—he would have been exuberant. But now, all he could think of was finding Kali.

  Ignoring shouts for him to halt, he leaped over the bodies on the boardwalk and charged through the front door, its frame dancing with flames. Heat blasted him, and he had to lift a hand to shield his eyes from the intense light. Flames climbed the walls, licked posts, and leapt up through the loft floor—what remained of it. Part of it had been blown away, while other parts were snapping and falling even as he navigated into the mill. Smoke hazed the interior, and Cedar struggled to see more than a few feet ahead of him. He almost tripped over a giant twisted piece of metal by the door. Had part of the boiler flown all the way across the room?

  “Kali?” Cedar called.

  A moan came from his left. Cedar grabbed the person before it registered who he was saving. Andrews. Though all he wanted to do was search for Kali, he forced himself to drag the kid out onto the boardwalk before lunging back into the inferno.

  “Cedar,” one of the Mounties yelled, closer this time. He was running toward the mill. The second man was in the street, hollering for people to get buckets. Cedar had no time for either of them. He charged back inside.

  A beam snapped overhead and plummeted from the loft, landing not two feet from him. It crashed through the flooring, sending up sparks and flames. An arm raised against the burning cinders flying through the air, Cedar veered around the mess.

  “Kali?” he called again.

  Smoke flooded his nostrils, and his coughs racked his throat. He tugged his shirt up over his nose and mouth, wishing he had one of the bandanas the workers had been wearing. Tears leaked from his eyes, but he pressed deeper into the room.

  “Cedar!” came a familiar call from the front door.

  He spun, spotting Kali through the haze. He stumbled toward her, bumping his hip on what remained of the saw bench. It didn’t matter. Relief flowed through his limbs at the sight of Kali, standing in the front doorway.

  “Look out.” She flung a hand out, pointing to something over his head.

  Another thunderous crack erupted above him. The rest of the loft—it was falling.

  Cedar lunged toward the door, but not before something heavy plummeted down, clipping his shoulder and nearly tearing the weapons off his back. He twisted and flung himself toward the open area by the door. A burning beam slammed to the ground, hurling sparks that singed his skin in a dozen places. He rolled across the floor and leaped to his feet.

  He almost crashed into Kali, who must have come in to help him.

  “Out, out,” he rasped, as if that weren’t the most obvious thing in the world. Amidst smoke and flames, they sprinted out the front door. He pulled her into a fierce hug as soon as they were in the street.

  “What were you doing in there?” Kali demanded, her voice muffled since her face was pressed into his shirt. He fancied her grip on him was as hard as his was around her.

  “Looking for you.” Cedar squinted his eyes shut, still terrified at the notion that she might have been caught in there.

  “You thought I’d be stupid enough to get caught in a building when the boiler exploded?”

  Cedar smiled into her hair. “Well, I thought you might have... tripped or something.”

  A throat cleared a few feet away.

  Cedar looked... and found the two Mounties staring at him, their rifles in their hands. They weren’t aimed at him yet, but their grim expressions suggested they might be soon.

  “We’re going to have to ask you to come with us,” a sergeant said.

  For the first time, Cedar considered the consequences of running into a street full of people while shooting at his nemesis. That... couldn’t have looked good. And the exploding mill? Surely he couldn’t be blamed for that? Ugh, but there were bodies all around him, bodies of men who had clearly been working for Cudgel, but who might not have criminal records...

  He rubbed his face.

  “Did you get Cudgel?” Kali whispered.

  “I...” Had he? “Need to check.”

  Cedar released Kali and strode in the direction of the fallen man. He half expected Cudgel to have escaped somehow, to have crawled away when nobody was looking, but those boot soles were still in view. Several people had gathered around the dimly visible form, a strange human-shaped bump with fine powder scattered across it like a dusting of snow. But was it indeed Cudgel? Could it be? His quest over? A strange queasy nervousness filled his belly. After Cudgel had avoided him so many times, what if this was just another trick? Someone else who had donned a special metal shirt and attacked Cedar?

  “Cedar,” came the warning voice of one of the Mounties.

  Two more uniformed officers jogged around a corner up ahead. “Get his weapons,” someone called.

  By this time, Cedar had reached the fallen man and scarcely cared whether they were talking about him or not. He patted around, feeling the outline of the fellow, and found his throat to check his pulse. Dampness met his fingers. Blood.

  Murmurs came from the people watching. No pulse. Cedar had succeeded in downing his target, but was it...?

  He had used water to rub the powder off his own fingers when he had first discovered it. He dipped a hand into a mud puddle and wiped at the man’s face. In the fading light, it was hard to see much of anything, but skin did start to show through. The murmurs of the crowd—it had grown from a few people to dozens—turned into alarmed exclamations.

  A hand gripped Cedar’s shoulder. He kept rubbing the dead man’s skin, determined to see the face before letting the Mounties haul him away. He couldn’t imagine how Cudgel had, in so little time, managed to plaster himself with the oily powder. An image of that crazy alchemist who had tried to kill Kali jumped into his head. Maybe Cudgel had such a person at his beck and call, someone who could make delivery devices.

  “What do you mean you’re going to arrest him?” Kali asked from several meters back. “These were all criminals. They were trying to kill us. They’re part of that claim-grabbing scheme that sergeant asked us to investigate.”

  “We just need him to come with us, ma’am. The commissioner will straighten things out, get to the bottom of this mess.”

  Cedar knelt back. He had uncovered enough of the man’s face to reveal that it was truly Cudgel, dead in the street. Unless it was yet one more trick. After so many years, it was hard to believe his quest was over, that he had actually bested the man. With Kali’s help. If he hadn’t had her tools, Cudgel would have escaped yet again. His heart swelled with gratitude and... other emotions.

  He stood up and turned, intending to finally tell her how he felt.

  Two Mounties gripped his arms. A third came forward warily, reaching for his weapons, watching him as if he were a tiger that might lash out with its claws.

  Because they were arresting him. He’d heard them talking and had realized it was going that way, though he had been more intent on other matters, and had felt oddly indifferent... or at least not alarmed. He’d caught Cudgel. He could die in jail now, knowing he’d done the world a piece of good.

  He caught sight of Kali several paces away, her fists balled at her sides, steam practically coming out of her ears. She looked like she was thinking of twisting people’s bits with her pliers again.

  Cedar couldn’t help himself. He grinned.

  She blinked, then scowled. “They’re arresting you, you know.”

  “I know,” Cedar said, even as he was patted down, his knives found and removed. They had already taken the rifle, katana, and air gun. “But Cudgel’s dead.”

  Her exasperated wave said she had already figured that out. “Good, but I’m more worried about you. They’re going to drag you off and—�
�� She waved again, more of an angry chop.

  “Ms. Kali.” Cedar straightened to his full height, ignoring the men gripping his arms and the others patting him down. “I’ve been meaning to ask you...” He glanced at the street in front of the mill—someone had dragged Andrews out there, away from the burning building, or maybe he had stumbled off the boardwalk of his own accord, for his bleary eyes were open now. “Will you be my lady? My only lady? And I’d be your only man?”

  He chewed on that, wishing he had said it more poetical, but there was hardly time. The Mounties were tugging at him now, trying to pull him up the block, toward their headquarters.

  Kali’s brow furrowed. “What?”

  He thought he had been clear, but perhaps not. “I’m speaking of... porch sitting.” No, that was no good. Too vague. “Courting,” he emphasized. Cedar was tugged backward a step. “Will you wait for me?”

  She mouthed something, porch sitting perhaps. “You’ve just shot ten men and you’re being arrested, and that’s what you’re worrying about?”

  Cedar tilted his head. “Actually, the concern has been on my mind all week. Seeing as I might not have an opportunity to discuss it with you later...” He was pulled another few steps backward, though he dug his heels in at this point, not ready to be led away until he had an answer. He deliberately did not look at Andrews this time, not wanting her to believe his presence had prompted this new urgency from him. “It’s what I’m worrying about.”

  Cedar didn’t know if he had ever seen Kali look so exasperated. Maybe his timing hadn’t been the best...

  “Who else would I porch sit with?” Kali demanded, throwing her hands in the air. “And it’d be a deck, not a porch. An airship deck. I thought we had that all figured on already. You and me. In the future.” She finally lowered her hands, though the stare she pinned him with wasn’t any less exasperated. “A porch. You see anyone around here with a porch?”

  Cedar probably shouldn’t have grinned, but he couldn’t help himself. His timing didn’t matter. She wanted to sit with him. Just him. His grin broadened as he answered her question. “No, ma’am.”