by Devon Monk
Because the puppet man twitched. All the limbs flexing one at a time like pistons pulling and pushing. Then it whirred somewhere inside, as if fans and cogs and springs got under power.
And then it stood up.
17
Cedar walked up the wide polished stairs to the city hall library. Marble pillars supported an arched entryway to a tall double door wide enough for a wagon to pass through.
He was suddenly aware he hadn’t had a decent hot bath in a couple weeks, and that his clothing was the sturdy sort made for the trail, not tailored wear appropriate for fine institutions such as this.
He removed his hat, smoothed his hair, and entered the building.
And a fine, grand building it was. The whole of it opened up to walls filled with books, only interrupted by six arched windows marching down both sides. Half a dozen tables took the center of the place, each with a padded chair, inkwell, and sheaves of paper at hand, and green-shaded lamps waiting for the user.
The wooden floor glowed softly in the evening light, a wide, rich red carpet taking up the centermost of the room. There were doors at the far end and, as he walked through the room, more to each side beyond the collection of books. The doors likely led to the trial room and smaller chambers, respectively.
He passed a small study area and noted Miss Dupuis inside.
She had removed her coat and rolled up her sleeves, not a state he usually found her in. She sat at the head of the table, head bent as she read over broadsheets and newsprint, several smaller record books opened and stacked on the table within her reach.
He knocked softly on the half-open door, old manners and habits from his days in universities falling upon him as easily as stepping into worn slippers.
She looked up, the frown fading as she recognized him. “Mr. Hunt. Please come in.”
“How is the case going?” he asked as he entered the room, which was also filled with walls of books. He dragged his finger along the tabletop to the end chair, where he finally settled.
By glim, he was tired. And just the short walk through the building had left him winded. He needed sleep. A lot of it. Soon.
“There are some inconsistencies in the reports of what happened to Roy Atkinson all those years ago. Still…” She sighed and sat back. “It does not look good, Mr. Hunt. Not just that there was a man murdered, but that Mayor Vosbrough is the witness who can best testify to what he saw that day.”
“Did he see the murder?” Cedar asked. “Was he there when the man was shot?”
“No. But he saw the Madders riding off to the mayor’s manor with guns at the ready. And he overheard them saying they were going to end a man’s life. The circumstantial evidence is a mile high. And since the judge was appointed by the mayor, who has a personal grudge against the Madders, I do not see how I can do much more than delay the hanging.”
“Then that’s what you’ll do. Delay it. How many days do you think you can hold it off?”
“Two, perhaps. No more than that. Maybe not even that.” She leaned forward and laced her fingers together, elbows resting on the table. “We should plan to break them out before then,” she whispered.
“We’ll have a plan in place by morning.” He looked around the room and for a long moment savored being surrounded by knowledge. Savored the silence of the place with the hustle of city life just beyond the walls, savored the connection to the life he’d given up years ago. He had been a different man then, but not in a bad way. He wondered if he’d still be happy with this sort of life, had he the chance for it.
“Do you miss it?” she asked. “The days you spent in places like this?”
“Very much so,” he said quietly. He stood and held back a grunt at the ache in his bones. “Have you seen Mae or Father Kyne since you came to town?”
“Yes. They found the herbs they needed and went back to the church. They asked me to tell you to meet them there, if I saw you.”
“Then I’ll be on my way. Good luck to you, Miss Dupuis. In case the Madders haven’t seen to thank you lately for taking on this task, let me extend my gratitude on their account.”
She smiled. “Such fine manners, Mr. Hunt. A brief encounter with civilization suits you.”
“Perhaps it does,” he said as he walked out the door.
But that was not the full truth. The beast lingered just beneath his skin, growing strong as the moon grew fat. Just like a veneer of moonlight over shadow, his civilized manners were fleeting at best, and misleading at worst.
Back outside, he untied his horse from the watering trough, and swung up into the saddle. The wind shifted, bringing the first scents of the night—a razor cold sharpened by ice.
The clouds had thinned enough he could see the angle of the sun near the horizon. An hour perhaps until dark. No more.
He should turn back to the church. Give Mae and Father Kyne time to break the curse.
Instead, he guided his mount toward the jail. He needed some answers, and the Madders seemed to be the only people who could provide them for him.
The townspeople sensed the failing light too. The few, very few, children he saw on the street with parents were held firmly by the hand and taken into homes where doors were shut, bolted, and shutters latched tight.
All before the sunset. There was a hurriedness to it, an apprehension in the air, a tangible fear. Fear of the night. Or of what happened in the night.
By the time he made it to the jail, the streets had half emptied out, leaving only the saloons and parlors full with laughter.
He rode around to the side of the jail, hitching his horse out of the way a bit, out of the wind that was hard rising.
He walked through the front door without knocking.
There was only one lawman there, Deputy Greeley, who stood behind a desk drinking coffee.
“Evening,” Cedar said.
“Evening. Mr. Hunt, wasn’t it? Something I can help you with?”
“I understand you have three men behind bars here, Alun, Bryn, and Cadoc Madder.”
“That’s so.”
“I’d like to speak to them.”
The wide-built deputy considered him, then sucked his teeth a moment, making the scar on the side of his face pucker. He placed his cup down and walked out from behind the desk. “I’ll need your weapons. All you got on you, blades included.”
Cedar complied, placing his guns and knives on the desk.
“They’re back in the far holding cell at the end of the row. Put them together so it’d be easier to shoot the lot of them if needed.”
Cedar nodded and strolled down the line of cells, passing by hard-eyed or desperate-looking men until he came to the cell at the end.
The Madder brothers had made themselves at home, somehow between the three of them managing to sling up three hammocks and turn the bunks into a table and chairs, at which they currently sat, playing poker.
“Nice of you to visit, Mr. Hunt,” Alun called out cheerily. “Any news on how construction on the gallows is going?”
“Haven’t looked in on it myself,” Cedar said. “Could stop by tomorrow morning to let you know, if you want.”
“I would indeed. There’s been a startling rise in the preference toward the new drop systems. I myself would prefer a bucket I could jump off of, don’t you agree, brothers?”
“I don’t know,” Bryn mused. “Snapped neck is quicker than slow strangulation.”
“Bah,” Alun said. “You want to go that easy? Crack and it’s done? Rather kick and spit and make a scene as I choke to death. Last chance to be on stage. Shouldn’t want to waste it.”
“I didn’t come here about the gallows,” Cedar said before Cadoc could enter the argument.
“What then, Mr. Hunt?” Alun asked with a twinkle in his eye. “Something on your mind tonight?”
“Roy Atkinson.”
The brothers stopped smiling. All of them, simultaneously, seemed more interested in their card hands.
“Don’t know that
I know a man by that name,” Alun said.
“I wouldn’t suppose you would.” Cedar placed one hand around the thick cell bar. “Seeing as how he’s dead.”
“That so?” Alun said. “I’ll take two.”
Bryn thumbed two cards off the top of the deck.
“Did you kill him?” Cedar asked quietly enough; even the deputy out front shouldn’t be able to hear him.
The brothers played their hands a bit longer, Bryn giving Cadoc four new cards, though Cedar was sure he hadn’t asked for them, and Bryn taking only one.
“Aces high. Cadoc loses,” Bryn said.
Cadoc heaved a sigh and pushed up to his feet. He walked over to the bars and stood in front of Cedar. “That man is dead. It is true. Not by our hands, though we helped with his crossing. He wasn’t meant for this world, Mr. Hunt. He’d done his good. And we gave him his reward for it. The reward he asked for.”
“Death?”
“Only to some eyes. To others, we gave him eternal life.”
“Careful there, brother,” Alun said quietly. “All the world is made of ears.”
“Eternal life. Is that a fancy way of saying murder?” Cedar asked.
“We…” Cadoc looked up to the ceiling and frowned, as if working his way through his thoughts. Finally, he returned his gaze to Cedar and regarded him, for just a moment, as if he were gauging a stranger’s trustworthiness.
“You’ve seen things, Mr. Hunt. Been affected by a world most people can only imagine. One might think there are other curious things set near our world. Perhaps even other places that are wholly difficult to discern. Like darkness hides in shadow, some things and places hide in plain sight.”
Cedar tried hard not to sigh. He usually didn’t much mind Cadoc’s roundabout riddle answers. But tonight the moon was calling. Calling for blood.
“Just so.” Cadoc nodded toward Cedar as if he had listened in on his thoughts. “Things beyond the naked eye that are nonetheless very real. Things that can speak and even…change us.”
“What does this have to do with murder?”
“Why, everything,” he said, clearly surprised. “Haven’t you been listening to me?”
“You are difficult to parse on the best of days, Mr. Madder,” Cedar said. “And tonight is not my best day.”
“Tell it to a child, brother,” Alun suggested while Bryn reshuffled the deck.
Cadoc raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh. Well, then.” He patted Cedar’s hand like an uncle to a fond nephew. “Mr. Hunt. Cedar. We just made him appear dead so that he could live a different life. His time of being a mayor was over and only the illusion of death would release him from his promises.”
“To whom?”
“To us. Or as much as.”
“As much as,” the other two brothers repeated.
“So you faked his death?” Cedar said. “But the mayor found him dead. Robbed. He put a price on your heads for it.”
“That devil found what he wanted to find,” Cadoc said. “No more.”
“Did you break into the safe? Did you rob Atkinson?”
“No,” Cadoc said. “Those valuables always belonged to Roy Atkinson. No one took them from him.”
“So where is he?” Cedar asked. “If you tell me, I can bring him here. He can stand as witness, as proof that you didn’t kill him. You’d go free.”
“Free?” Alun said. “Why…I can’t…” He exhaled one hard grunt. “Mr. Hunt,” he began in the tone of an orator as he stood and strolled slowly over to the bars of the cell. “We do not wish to be free. If we wanted to be free, we wouldn’t be in a jail cell, now, would we?”
“Can’t say as I’ve ever seen the logic in what you do and don’t do,” Cedar said.
That made Alun grin. “Even so, this should make sense to you. We are here to buy you time. Time to fulfill your promise to us. A promise that if gone unfulfilled will mean disaster and death for many innocent people. A promise that you are apparently not doing since you are instead standing here talking about something long finished in days gone by.”
“Buying me time? You don’t think I can do my work if you’re free?”
“I know you can’t. It would quickly become…complicated between the mayor and all our companions. He’s the kind of man who enjoys tying off loose ends, and that’s what you would become to him. Right now, well, when you aren’t under the jail roof, you are out of his notice. He doesn’t give a damn about you, Mr. Hunt. But if you draw attention to yourself by fraternizing with us, he will notice. And when he notices, he will get in your way.”
“You think I should fear him?” Cedar asked.
Alun nodded, but he did not smile. “You should, Mr. Hunt. You should. Now,” he went on, as if they were discussing the weather, “the night is near to us. I’d say you’d best be on your way to do your important things for our country. On your way.” He waved his hands as if shooing a child off on errands.
Cedar clamped his back teeth to keep from saying anything more. The beast was pushing for his body. The blood hunger was growing stronger and would soon be too close to the surface of his thoughts for him to control it.
“Is there anything more you can tell me about the mayor, or about the copper mine and devices he’s built?”
“Copper mine?” Alun said.
“Devices?” Bryn asked.
“Have you seen these things?” Cadoc asked.
“Yes. In a mine outside of town. Vosbrough found me there, searching for the lost children.”
“Mr. Hunt,” Alun said gravely. “That is our promise to fulfill. You must find the Holder. You must. All else will fall into place once that is found. You do still think it’s nearby, don’t you?”
Cedar inhaled, caught his breath, and then was set upon by a coughing spell. He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his mouth.
The brothers were exchanging concerned looks. “Are you falling ill?” Bryn finally asked.
“It’s the cold,” Cedar said. “It doesn’t agree with me.”
“All the more reason to be done with this quickly,” Alun said as he stumped back over to the table and picked up the new cards Bryn had dealt. “Go on now, Mr. Hunt. Go.”
Cedar tucked his handkerchief back in his pocket and left the Madders to their cards.
“They’re an odd bunch, aren’t they?” Deputy Greeley said.
Cedar reclaimed his weapons and shook his head. “You don’t know the half of it. Good night, officer.”
Cedar left the jail and glanced at the sky. The sun dipped low, nearly on the horizon. He might have cut this too close.
He pointed the horse toward the church and somehow found his way down the right streets and alleys and finally to the lane that led to the church.
By the time he had taken the rudimentary care to put his horse away, that luxurious promise of losing his body to the beast was lapping at the back of his mind.
He still had hold of his thoughts, of his reasoning. But it was a tenuous thing.
He didn’t remember walking to the church. Didn’t remember going through the kitchen. His next clear thought was when his knees hit the floor—a cushion on the floor—in a room that was unfamiliar to him.
“Calm and clear,” Mae was saying. “Trust in my voice, Cedar, and I will lead you to rest.
“Rest,” she said again from behind him. He tested his wrists. Tied together at his back. It was a thin string, maybe even a thread, but for some reason, he could not muster the strength to break it.
He waited for Mae to walk around in front of him.
And she did. To his eyes, Mae was brighter than moonlight, and infinitely more beautiful. She smiled, searching his eyes for what was left of his reason—which was a lot more than he expected at this point—and he smiled at her.
“Hello, Mae,” he said softly. The beast wanted him to say more. To claim her as mate. To take her in his arms as a man does a woman. But that thin thread at his wrists crossed over the blood moving beneath
his skin, and cooled it. Giving him reason. Giving him thought.
“Hello, Cedar,” she said. “Do you trust me this night?”
“Yes. And more,” he replied.
“Do you give yourself to me?”
That took longer to answer, the push of blood and heat and want stealing away his words. He knew she saw his desire for her, his need. But she waited. Needing his words to use her spells.
“Always.”
“Then my hands will hold you and guide you. Rest, Cedar Hunt, and give the night to me.”
Cedar wanted to answer, but her words, and the spell they carried, wrapped around him. There was darkness. And then there was nothing else.
18
“Um,” Rose said, since she couldn’t think of anything else to say now that the puppet creation was on its two legs and standing there like a soldier awaiting orders.
“Don’t move,” Hink said quietly behind it. “We don’t know what it can do.”
“But it doesn’t even have a head.”
“Lots of things don’t have heads and still do a lot of harm,” he said. “Back away from it slowly.”
“You just told me not to move.”
“Well, now I’m saying back away.” He pulled his gun.
“You’re not going to shoot it, are you?”
“Not unless it shoots first. Or maybe before that.”
“Oh, no you won’t, Captain. I just made the poor thing. I won’t watch you blow it to bits.”
“It ain’t a baby, Rose.”
“I know what it is and isn’t. More than you do. And I also happen to think it isn’t a threat to us.”
“On what grounds?”
“It has no mind.”
“Neither does a gun.”
“Neither do you, Lee Hink. Listen to me,” she said. “There’s nothing to tell it what to do. No steering device. No telegraph wire, no levers or pulleys sending it to do anything. I don’t even think it could take a single step if it tried.” To prove her point, she walked toward it.
“Woman, you want me to shoot you too, so you and I can still be alive to argue this issue? I said stop moving.”