Blood Curse: Book 2 of the Blood War Chronicles

by Quincy Allen

  The remaining men moved without being told and disappeared through the open double doors behind them.

  “So what are your intentions, Mister Lasater?” the captain asked.

  “Well, we’re gonna drag that box someplace, I just don’t know where yet. Where did we come down, anyway?” Jake asked.

  “Well, that’s where the situation becomes a bit of a sticky wicket. We’re in the Free Territories, which is an active war zone and bad enough, but by my calculations, I believe we are also in the middle of renegade Apache territory, roughly between Albuquerque and Roswell. On top of all that, we’re right on the edge of an area dictated by Central Pacific policy as off-limits. Strange things happen around Roswell, and we’ve heard of far too many ships disappearing without a trace. And on those rare occasions when we’ve found our vessels, they’ve been stripped bare.”

  “Albuquerque it is, then,” Jake said simply.

  “Jake?” Cole spoke up and stepped toward his partner, grabbing his arm and pulling him aside.

  “What’s up?” Jake said quietly as Cole pulled him away from the rest.

  “I think we oughta head toward Roswell.”

  “What? You heard the captain. There’s weird shit in there, and they’re in the middle of a war.”

  “Umm …” Cole hesitated, sounding almost embarrassed to speak. “My mother lives near there. I mean, the captain is right and all. The Free Territories are scraping it out pretty regular with Cromwell to the south. And there are some pretty strange things that go on around Roswell. It ain’t safe for outsiders, but I have an idea. I know I can get us in, and I think we can hitch a ride on the Pandora Celtica.”

  “The what?” Jake asked, baffled.

  “It’s sort of a flying … I don’t know …” Cole scratched the back of his head, searching for the right word. “I guess you’d have to call it a circus. They got music and one hell of a freak show, but they’re friendly enough folk if you can get past the weird.”

  “Well, hell. You know me. I’ve seen enough weird that most don’t shake me much.”

  “Some of what we’ll see may push the limit, amigo,” Cole said with a wry grin.

  “You sure it’s gonna be safe?” Jake asked with that tone reserved for you-better-be-sure questions.

  “As safe as anything else we do.” Cole chuckled, but Jake’s face stayed calm. Cole realized Jake was walking the edge because of the jam they were in. Jake had asked one of those questions between partners where you’re putting your life in their hands and you want to be reassured. Cole’s face went serious, knowing what Jake was after. He had used it often enough with Jake. “Yeah, Jake. I think it’s the only play we have right now.”

  Jake nodded and made the decision. “Alright. Roswell it is. I don’t know how the captain will take it, but we gotta get rolling, and knowing the where of where I’m headed makes me feel a little better, even if it’s straight into weird.”

  Jake turned away from his partner and headed to the cluster of men around the captain just as Skeeter led a trundling Lumpy into the main area of the cargo hold.

  Skeeter had looped lengths of chain around Lumpy’s horns, and the rest dragged across the floor behind him. “He give you any trouble, Skeeter?”

  “No, sir,” Skeeter said smiling as she held up a bag of sweet feed. “No trouble at all. I think he was happy to get out of the stall.” Jake smiled and nodded his head as he approached Wordsworth.

  The captain stood in the doorway of the cargo hold, speaking to several of his men and undoubtedly going over options. “—there’s little doubt they’ll come back for us,” he said as he motioned to one of the men to get out of Lumpy’s path. “They still have one fully functional zeppelin, and the rascals seem more than determined.”

  “Couldn’t we just stay here and wait for Central to send a rescue zepp?” O’Malley asked with a healthy dose of nervousness.

  “I’d like to, O’Malley, but I agreed to escort Mr. Lasater and his companions. I mean to do just that. It’s a matter of honor at this point, and there is always greater strength in numbers.”

  “Excuse me, Captain,” Jake interrupted as he stepped up. “I think I may have a solution to both our problems.” Cole stepped in beside Jake with an anxious look on his face, expecting a confrontation of some kind from the captain. He’d met navy men before, and when orders came down not to go someplace, it was a safe bet they wouldn’t go there.

  “Eh?” Wordsworth said, raising a silvery eyebrow and turning to face Jake. “What’s that you say? I’d love to hear any solution you might have, Mister Lasater.”

  “Well, it seems we have a pretty good option if we head on over to Roswell. My partner here,” Jake threw a thumb in Cole’s direction, “has kin and knows some folks there. He figures we may be able to hitch a ride on a ship called the Pandora Celtica. You could stay here and wait for your ship. It’s us they’re after.”

  Wordsworth looked at both men in exactly the same way Jake and Cole had looked at Emperor Norton. “I’d ask if you want to reconsider,” Wordsworth continued, “but I’ve encountered men of fortune like the two of you before. I must admit, Mister Lasater, I agree with your assessment. If you ride off toward Roswell, it is likely that our adversaries will follow you and leave the Jezebel and her crew alone. We were able to send off a message to the Central Pacific via the wireless during our descent, and we expect to receive assistance within the next day or two.”

  “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for us, Captain. I’m indebted to you. You ever need me, you just holler. I pay what I owe.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Mister Lasater.” Wordsworth nodded his head and held out his hand. They shook, and Wordsworth clapped Jake on the shoulder. “You are a rare breed, sir, and it’s been my honor to fight with you against such unseemly men. Now, if you will excuse me, I must see about what’s been done to the rest of my ship … and my men.” Wordsworth turned to O’Malley. “Please assist Jake and his people with anything they require.”

  “Yes, Captain,” O’Malley replied, raising his hand in a formal British salute.

  Captain Wordsworth nodded to Jake and Cole and then headed off, moving carefully around Lumpy, who Skeeter had turned around in the doorway that led out of the hold.

  “O’Malley, could you and your men help Skeeter get that box loaded up into what’s left of the wagon? We’ll be dragging the rear end a bit, but it’ll be easier on Lumpy than just dragging that box across the desert.”

  “Right away, Jake,” O’Malley said and moved off toward the door where someone dragged chains across a box. He motioned for the rest of the men to join him.

  Cole spoke up. “You realize we’re going to leave one hell of a trail in the turf with that thing, don’t you?”

  Jake sighed. “Yep. Ain’t much we can do about it though.”

  “True enough,” Cole said, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. He had a bit of a forlorn look shading his face.

  “We’ll get this done, Cole,” Jake reassured him. “And in one piece.”

  “I trust ya, Jake. You know that. But this is looking pretty bad.”

  “Yep. Do me a favor. Lend them a hand back there getting the box loaded up. I want to get outside and see what the countryside looks like.” Jake peered through the cargo hold door out into the night. “Maybe I’ll get a bright idea.”

  “You got it, amigo.” Cole headed off, patting Lumpy on the head as he passed by.

  “Hey,” Jake called after him.

  Cole turned in the darkness.

  “Can you police up those jump-packs? We’re taking them with us.”

  Cole nodded and disappeared into the next compartment.

  Jake stepped out into the night and let it open up to him. The moon was high enough to provide wide patches of light across rolling hills that spread out in all directions, but low enough to show him which way west was.

  Patches of storm clouds hid the stars in large swaths of darkness. He c
ould see sagebrush and clumps of ponderosa pines across the sparse landscape. People called it a desert, but there really was quite a bit of tough vegetation that managed to scrape out an existence in the Free Territories … just like the people. A strong breeze gusted out of the south, making the partially deflated envelope of the Jezebel flutter and flap.

  “Mister Lasater?”

  Jake turned. A young steward he didn’t recognize stood in the doorway. “What can I do for you, son?”

  “Captain Wordsworth wanted me to give you this.” He held out a large, rolled up piece of parchment that looked like it had seen a fair amount of use.

  Jake took it from him and nodded his head. Unrolling it, he discovered it was a detailed map of the Free Territories.

  The man reached up and pointed to a spot on the map roughly between Albuquerque and Roswell. “He says we’re right about here.”

  “Thank the captain for me, would you?”

  “Yes, sir,” the steward nodded. “And he says you can keep it.” The steward saluted, making Jake feel a little uncomfortable, then turned and walked back into the hold. Jake rolled the map back up and walked a short distance away from the Jezebel. Peering aft of the broken ship, he could see a deep furrow dug through the soil for about two hundred yards. There were overturned trees torn from the soil and a long row of topped ponderosa pines the Jezebel had squashed as she came in.

  A low ridge topped with more ponderosa rose before him. He strode up it quickly, making for the ridgeline. Gusts of wind pushed at him as he walked, all the while worrying that the wagon might not get all the way to Roswell. He could only hope Skeeter would be able to come up with something. He pushed that thought away as he stared around him, taking in the bits and pieces of the terrain highlighted by silvery moonlight.

  Cresting the ridge, Jake spotted a large, lichen-covered boulder and sat down. He unrolled the map, and under bright moonlight poured over what lay between the Jezebel and Roswell.

  It looked as if the ridge traced its way south, getting larger the closer it got to the Texas Republic. He ran his metal finger over a small river that traced a jagged line from the ridge directly into Roswell. An idea started to form. It would mean going a fair distance out of their way, but if it worked, it would eliminate the problem of them leaving a trail for Szilágyi to follow. It would all depend on the nature of that river.

  Jake sat there for a long time, mulling over the possibilities and the risks. What they might find in Roswell worried him somewhat, but he trusted Cole, and that was where his worry ended. He heard men working and shouting occasionally down at the Jezebel, but he paid it little mind. His thoughts were elsewhere, drifting to those last foggy moments with a belly wound and death biting him on the ass … and how he’d managed to survive.

  A familiar chill seeped into his bones, just like when he’d passed out. Traces of mist drifted around the stone he sat upon. He knew right away what … who it had to be. His free hand slid down to the Peacekeeper, and he turned away from the fog. Tendrils of it swirled around him, just at the edge of his vision.

  “You’ve been in that crate this whole time, haven’t you?” he asked.

  Moments passed. He felt someone’s breath against the back of his neck. Then a demure voice with a familiar accent simply said, “Yes.” The voice once again stirred his heart.

  “I guess I need to thank you for saving my life, Lady Dănești.” Jake was motionless as the chill in his bones deepened. “You must be one hell of a witch.” He rolled up the map and set it on the stone beside him.

  The fog around the stone receded, taking the chill with it, and a gentle hand rested upon his shoulder. He turned fully, and for the first time, he saw her eyes.

  They were almost as white as her hair, with the pupils a dark contrast and the outer rims tinged with a subtle pattern of green that accentuated them.

  Jake had never seen eyes so beautiful, and looking into her face sparked a warmth in his heart, turning it into a bright, burning flame.

  She nodded but said nothing, standing there silent in the deep emerald dress she had worn when he first laid eyes on her. Jake did his best to ignore the fire within, but it was an uphill battle.

  “I thought you said you weren’t travelling with us.”

  She hesitated, biting her lips together. “I did, but I had a very good reason to lie.” Her accent was a lilt in Jake’s ears that further warmed him. “I hope you can forgive the deception.” Lady Dănești walked gracefully around the rock and stood before him like a pillar of jade and alabaster, moonlight playing delicate tricks along her hair and cheekbones.

  “Depends on the reason.” Jake tipped his hat back a bit, narrowed his eyes, and stared into the Lady’s shadowy face. “Why don’t you explain it to me?” He was doing his best to play it hard, but deep down he knew she could sense the dance his heart was doing inside his chest.

  Lady Dănești took his gloved, metal hand into her own, running her fingers over the back of it. “I’ve been on the run for a very long time. Europe, India, Russia, China …” she turned her eyes from his and stared down a long road of memory she traced in the dark clouds behind him. “I settle down for a while, and then—eventually—one of them finds me and I have to run again.” He could hear the melancholy in her voice, like a hundred years of rain, and it tore at him.

  “Them?” Jake asked. “Who finds you?” He reached up and tenderly placed his real hand upon her cheek, turning her eyes to him. “Who does Szilágyi work for?”

  “Men of power who want more than they need and don’t care about who gets in their way.” Her eyes were deep wells of sorrow that reflected a lifetime of despair, and Jake fell headlong into them.

  “And Szilágyi?”

  She shook her head. “He’s just a soldier—a puppet, really—doing someone else’s bidding. He probably knows what he’s been sent to fetch, but I doubt he truly knows why or what it’s for.”

  “What the hell is this all about?” Jake blurted, putting a bit of iron in the question.

  “I don’t know how much I can trust you, Jake.” Lady Dănești stepped in close and put her hands on his shoulders.

  There was a trace of frustration, even anger in his voice as he spoke. “Look, I’ve already been through a meat grinder for you, and I didn’t quit. Hell, I’ve even been shot. I told you I’d get you to Colorado, despite the fact that Szilágyi is certain to chase us across the Free Territories and beyond to get what he’s after.”

  “Let me ask you a question.” She leaned in close and whispered, “What would you do if you could command an unstoppable army that would obey any order?”

  A confused look marred Jake’s face. Was she serious? Finally, a chuckle slipped past his lips like a thief. It was a dark sound, though, not one of happiness—full of painful memories. “I served my time in the military, and I’m done with armies. I was tired of it the day I started, and all I got for it was an exchange of flesh and blood for metal. Commanding anything at all is not something I have much interest in. However, assuming such a thing were possible—and I ain’t sayin’ it is—I reckon I would just have to take that pig-butchering President Cromwell and that pious, cross-burning army of his and send ’em all straight to hell.”

  Lady Dănești’s sorrow warmed somewhat as she smiled. “You’re a remarkable man, Jake, and believe me when I say that there aren’t many like you. The world can be a terrible place, full of petty souls who prefer standing on the backs of others over living by a code of honor that respects people.”

  “I know what the world can be,” he assured her. “But if that’s how you feel about me, then I suppose you can probably trust me, can’t you?” He searched her eyes for the answer.

  She leaned in, running her cool hands behind his neck, and pulled him forward. Before he knew what was happening, she kissed him, her cool lips pressing into his own.

  At first he was shell-shocked, his eyes wide open as her tongue slid between his lips. The fire in his heart coursed throu
gh his body like wildfire, and his arms made their way around her slim waist. He closed his eyes and they held each other close, breathing deeply as their tongues rolled together like snakes. She leaned in hard, pressing her body into his, and Jake got lost in the embrace.

  He forgot about the Free Territories and why he was in the middle of a desert in the dead of night. His memory evaporated in the heat, and he found himself thinking only of how her body felt against his, of how she tasted and how his body burned for her.

  She slid her hands down the front of his chest and gently pushed him away. They were both breathing deeply, and she stared into his eyes. After long moments, she seemed to come to a conclusion and stepped away from him.

  “I suppose I can.” She turned and faced the moon, staring up at it for some time.

  Jake stretched out his real hand and placed it on her shoulder. “So what is all this about? You gotta be square with me, milady.”

  “Corina,” she said quietly. “I want you to call me by my real name, Jake, not any bloody title.” She turned back to him and held out her hand.

  Jake rose from the stone and stood before her. She pulled him close again, and as they embraced, their lips pressed together briefly. She pulled him tightly against her body and ran her cheek against his, nestling her face into the crook of his neck.

  “Corina,” he whispered and then nibbled her ear. He felt her kissing his neck gently, running her tongue along the pounding heartbeat of his jugular. He tightened his arms around her as she sent rivers of flame down his spine.

  She suddenly stopped and leaned back, staring up at him.