Gaslit Armageddon (Clockworks of War Book 2)

by Jason Gilbert

  “I opened my flask, took a drink, then walked right up to her as she died and poured a little for her into the fire. Damn fine lass, she’d been! No Jezebel, mind you, but she had it where it counted!”

  The sun began to set, the sky going orange with streaks of purple. Insects started to whirr and click in the brush, the sound foreign and soothing all at once. The air grew damp, heavy as they made their way into a clearing by another creek. It was small, the water shallow enough to where Kane could see the dirt at the bottom. The shore below was sand, just large enough for two people in need of a campfire. A fallen tree stretched from the edge across the creek like a bridge, it’s branches still full of leaves and dense. It would be decent enough shelter if they needed to hide again.

  “This works,” he said. “We’ll camp here tonight.”

  * * *

  * * *

  “Camp” ended up being nothing more than a small fire Kane started with a couple of flint rocks and some brush. He was hesitant to cast at all since he had no idea how far the Hunters could track them with the Seeker device they had.

  Even referring to them as “Hunters” made Kane shake his head.

  Hunters had been fearsome Magicians who’d pledged loyalty to Southern Oligarchs. Money drove them, promises of a new world where they could practice magic in peace and free from Union-driven persecution. But, once the Slave Rebellion ended with the Union taking over the Confederate government, the Southern Oligarchs had split between two factions: The Loyalists, and the Traditionalists. The Loyalists controlled the northern territories and plantations of the Confederate States of America, providing goods to the Northern Union off the backs of criminals sent by the North to carry out their sentences with hard labor. They, along with the North, turned their backs on the Hunters, seeing them as no different than the fellow Magicians they hunted. The Traditionalists kept their loyalty to the old South, and concentrated in South Carolina, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama areas. They employed Hunters, sending them all over the country to find Magicians and kill them.

  “Those three gave me the creeps,” Tabatha said as Kane added a small branch to the fire. “You said those were Hunters?”

  “Hardly,” Kane said, snorting. “I’ve had a run-in with Hunters before. Not that those three clowns aren’t dangerous, but real Hunters would’ve found us and killed us. No, something’s not right. Those guys weren’t Magicians, but they had Relics. That Seeker, and then the ‘other one’ they talked about. I can’t figure if they were talking about another relic, or a person who has foresight like you do.”

  Tabitha shuddered.

  “That one, the one with the trinket, was the worst. He made my skin crawl.”

  Kane spoke before he could stop himself.

  “Just think about pancakes. You’ll be alright.”

  Tabitha sat up, clapping her hands rapidly as she spoke.

  “Ooooh! I hope we find Farnsworth soon! His pancakes are heavenly! I mean, they’re not better than Ralphie’s, of course, but still, yum!”

  Kane shook his head. Well, at least he’d distracted her from thinking about Richard.

  His body locked up in alarm at the sound of leaves crunching underfoot, sticks breaking. Night had come, the area pitch except for the small, warm glow of the campfire. Tabitha tried to speak again, but Kane shushed her, holding his hand up as he reached out with his hearing.

  The steps stopped. All sound stopped. No insects. No birds. Bats. Nothing.

  Something sounded in the distance, clacking like rocks being smacked together. Breathing.

  Kane reached over, cupped his hands in the water, and doused the fire. He pulled Tabitha up to her feet and led her underneath the fallen tree, hiding inside the branches and leaves.

  “What is it?” Tabitha asked, whispering. “What was that noise?”

  “Rocks, I think,” Kane said, keeping his voice low. “I heard someone walking. Quiet.”

  The breeze running through the trees had stopped. All sound from the woods was gone. Kane could hear Tabitha breathing, hear his own heart racing, pounding in his ears. He fought to slow it down. Calm. Needed to focus. Might have to cast. Might not have a choice.

  The darkness became heavy, oppressive. Thick like a viscous mass that filled the woods mercilessly. Kane heard something else. He tuned out Tabitha’s breathing as he listened out toward the extinguished campfire.

  A chuckle. A woman’s voice, cracked and graveled.

  “You didn’t have to douse the fire.”

  The campfire sparked and popped as flames rose from beneath, steaming the water off. The sudden brightness seemed offensive to the dark, pushing it back to shadows against the trees and brush, the flames brighter than what Kane had managed with his flint rocks.

  A woman stood behind the fire, her hand out over the flames, her dark mocha skin glowing in the orange firelight. Her hair was a mass of dreadlocks, giving her a Medusa-like appearance, and her ankle-length dress was adorned with the bones of small animals, twigs, and leaves. She grinned in their direction, her teeth blackened from neglect.

  “It get cool at night,” she said. “And bugs don’t like the flames. Come on out, my friends. I don’t mean you no harm. And I can get you them pancakes you wantin’, sweet girl.”

  Tabitha squeaked and moved out from the tree before Kane could stop her.

  “I’m Tabitha,” she said.

  If we live through this, I might kill her, Kane thought. He stepped out from the tree, his nerves on fire, ready to cast if this stranger went haywire.

  She looked at him, her grin broadening.

  “Wilhelmina,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “But you call me Wil. Mama gave me a mouthful for a name, bless that woman.”

  “This is Kane,” Tabitha said, motioning to him. “He’s grumpy, so don’t mind him.”

  Wil smiled at him and nodded.

  “She’s a little trusting,” Kane said. “Me, not so much.”

  Wil chuckled.

  “Well, then, you a smart one,” she said with almost a purr. “In ways, she smarter than you.”

  Kane couldn’t disagree. If he’d had half a brain, he’d have told Krieg to shove it back in new Chicago when he got the telegraph to meet him at the scene of the first murder. The medical examiner had been a friend of Kane’s, and had been the one who’d gotten him involved in the first place. It wasn’t until later that Kane found out that Krieg had involved him at the behest of Sarah Broussard, the Mors Rebrum.

  “Come sit by the fire,” said Wil, motioning them to come closer. “Come, young-ins. Let’s chat a spell.” She gave a low chuckle as she sat down cross-legged next to the blaze.

  Kane and Tabitha looked at each other. Kane nodded, motioned for Tabitha to take her place next to the fire. He sat down next to her, his eyes on Wilhelmina.

  “You’re no Magician,” he said, not taking his eyes off her. He kept his Ethereal Fire spell in the back of his mind. Just in case. “So, what are you?”

  “Mambo,” the woman said casually as she picked up a stick and stoked the flames. “Some call me Conjurer-Lady, which ain’t too far from the truth. We conjure what we need from the power given by Mother Earth. Hoodoo is worship of Mama Tera, among other things. Unlike you, Magician folk. Takin’ your powers from the dead.” She gave a grunt. “Heathen, if you ask me.” Her thick accent reminded Kane of Antonia Boudreaux, the no-nonsense madam back in Hidden Valley. “Ask” had come out like “ax.”

  “I take it you aren’t too concerned about those three Hunters finding you,” Kane said, indicating the fire. “Well, you called them Hunters at least. Their Seeker tracks spells, apparently.”

  Wil snorted.

  “Them three jokers?” She gave a laugh. “Shee-it. Them idiots couldn’t find they dicks in the dark with both hands. Don’t misunderstand, they dangerous. Stupid, which makes ‘em even more so. But they Hunters, ain’t no bones about that. What passes these days, anyway.” She looked into the fire. “But they afraid of me.
They little trinkets and toys don’t find me. They don’t see me comin’ when I wanna cause a little pain. They careful, that bunch. Can’t say the same for them folks you flew in wit’.”

  “You saw the Middleton crash?” Tabitha said, sitting up a little. “Did you see where?”

  “Few miles from here,” Wil said, nudging her chin at the woods behind them. “Ain’t nobody there, though. They done taken off. Headed back to Charleston to keep at this shit Revolution they keep goin’ on about.”

  “So we’re near Charleston?” Kane said. “How far out?”

  “About twenty mile or so,” the witch said, sitting back as she smiled. “You ain’ gonna make it.”

  “Why’s that?” Kane felt his skin gooseflesh a little. Damn it. He might have a fight on his hands. He glared at her, waited for her first move.

  She leaned forward and grinned at him, the leer devilish and hard, her eyes boring into him as she spoke.

  “You got questions, Kane Shepherd. Questions about what’s goin’ on. Questions about you and your woman’s powers. You done dropped down in the middle of Hell itself. We got fire, heat, bugs, and tea. You gone spend your time findin’ answers. But you ain’t safe.” She laughed again, slapped her knee as if she’d told a funny joke. “Oh, Spirits, you ain’t safe by no long shot!”

  How had she known his last name? Kane didn’t like it. He hadn’t told her a damned thing.

  The fire flickered, the shadows moving in the low light. Wil seemed to move with them. A realization came to Kane. He leaned in close, his tone challenging.

  “First question: are you really here?”

  Tabitha snorted.

  “What kind of question is that, Kane? Of course she’s not!”

  Wil threw her head back in a hearty laugh as she stood.

  “Your girl smarter than you, boy!” she said. “‘Cause she can do the same trick! You find me, I answer questions. You don’t find me, you keep wonderin’ about the world around you!”

  Wil vanished, fading as if she’d been consumed by the shadows.

  Chapter Three

  Kane looked at Tabitha. She shrugged, then sat back down by the fire.

  “Care to tell me how you knew she was projecting?” he asked. He felt foolish. He was a Magician, just as much as she was. He should’ve been able to pick up on the fact that the witch had never physically been there.

  Tabitha looked at him over her shoulder, smiling as if about to explain the facts of life to a small child.

  “It’s Astral Projection,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “I can do it, too. Remember? If you can do it, then you can spot it.”

  Kane rolled his eyes. He glanced around the area to make sure no one else was around, then joined her at the fire, sitting next to her.

  The witch touched a nerve with him. She knew about their magic, knew about them as Magicians. He couldn’t be too surprised: they’d cast a few spells in the woods when they thought no one was watching. Still, she had answers. How were they able to cast without amulets? Why did it wear them out to do so? Tabitha more so than him. He remembered her passing out the first time she’d healed him right after casting her travel spell and shooting them to the far side of the city from Hidden Valley.

  Then there was his fight with the Mors Rebrum back in New Chicago. The Red Death, Sarah Broussard. She’d been a Blood Priest, a magic user that drew her power from the blood of others. But she’d never once drawn from him or any other of the Magicians she’d encountered. In fact, his blood had burned her during their fight. Was that why she never drew from him, Tabitha, or Daniel? Kane had intended to ask Jones about it once they were safe on the Jezebel and headed South, but a sniper from one of the Special Forces ships in the sky watching the battle had ended Jones’s life with a bullet to the head.

  Daniel. Daniel Drake, most likely. Tabitha’s long-lost brother. Kane kept that to himself, though Tabitha knew he harbored a secret. It was eating away at him, but his fear that she would snap. Daniel had been Kane’s prime suspect until he’d revealed himself. After that, he’d become a sometimes ally, and full-time wild card.

  “Stop it,” Tabitha said. She leaned into him, rested her head on his shoulder.

  “Stop what?”

  “You’re thinking too loud.”

  Kane grunted.

  “You can read minds, too?”

  “No,” Tabitha said. “But I know when your mind is going into overdrive. You get too quiet. Careful. Might throw a gear and end up like me.”

  Kane shook his head.

  “If I haven’t lost it by now, then I think I’ll be okay. I’ve been through a lot.”

  “Ever lose a child?”

  Kane’s heart skipped a beat as Tabitha put her arms around him. He put his around her, held her close as she went silent. He stared into the flames, the small fire losing some of its glow as it began to die out. Tabitha began to breath steady, long and deep in her sleep.

  Kane looked up at the starry night sky as sleep began to creep in. He’d get a few hours of shut-eye, then wake her up and get moving.

  They had an airship to find.

  * * *

  Kane’s sleep was fitful and full of nightmares. The Hunters finding them, turning out to be far more dangerous than he’d given them credit for. Another one where they were exchanging magic blasts with William Gentry. Kane lay dying as he watched Tabitha take a bullet to the brain from Danwood. Another where they found the Middleton crashed and burning, the flames rising higher as a figure emerged. Sarah Broussard raising a hand, her flesh burning as she reached for Kane’s throat, her charred face drawn in a hellish scream of rage-fueled hatred as she lunged for him.

  Bullet blasting from the door in Antonia’s house, burying itself in Kane’s shoulder. Exiting the other side. His shoulder hurt from the reminder, made something inside him move and shift around.

  He’d finally given up on trying to sleep and watched the sun rise over the trees, the morning sky bluish and serene as the air grew dank and moist with dew.

  As much as he wanted to ignore it, a side of him wanted to break off from searching for the Middleton and go looking for Wilhelmina. The witch had answers to his questions, and he knew that he’d lose his chance to get those answers if he rejoined with the Revolution. Anderson wouldn’t want to take time away to go searching for another spell caster. She reminded him of Jones, in a way: intolerant of bullshit and stuck in her own ways.

  And grouchy.

  Tabitha stretched next to him, smiled as she sighed and kept her eyes closed.

  “Morning,” Kane said.

  Tabitha opened one eye and looked up at him.

  “Five more minutes.”

  “We have to move,” he said, looking around. He noticed a smell in the air, something familiar.

  And salty.

  “We’re near the coast,” he said, gently pushing her up off him and standing. “Why didn’t I notice it last night?”

  “Because you were busy,” Tabitha said, rubbing her eyes. “If you weren’t running from those three creeps or talking to witches, you were obsessing.”

  Kane looked at her.

  “I don’t obsess.”

  Tabitha smiled at him.

  “Yes, you do,” she said. “And I think it makes you cute. Annoying, but cute.”

  Kane rolled his eyes.

  Tabitha stood and stretched as Kane kicked sand over the remains of their fire. She looked around, then clapped her hands suddenly.

  “Ooooh!”

  “What?” Kane said, alarmed. And annoyed. He braced himself for more talk about pancakes and hot syrup. And she called him obsessed.

  Tabitha looked up at the sky as a flock of large birds flew by, honking as they passed. Blue Herons. Kane recognized them from a trip he’d made to the lowlands on the delivery barge years ago. The Oligarchs had organized a banquet to celebrate their bought victories in the government houses, and had a taste for seafood.

  “Yeah, Blue Herons,” he said. “
Birds.”

  “I like birds,” Tabitha said. “Kane, I love it here! So many mysteries!”

  “Yeah,” Kane said, sighing as he rubbed his face. “Mysteries like ‘Where the hell are we?’ We need to find that airship.”

  “Oh,” Tabitha said, looking back at him. “Follow those birds. They’re going in the direction I brought us.”

  Kane stopped short.

  “What?”

  She grinned at him. He liked her smile.

  Stop it. Focus.

  “I just remembered which way I brought us,” Tabitha said. “We were flying toward the coast, according to Wilson’s charts. Well, at least that’s what he was shouting when we were running from that Battle Cruiser. I took us the opposite direction.”

  “We need to backtrack, then.”

  Tabitha raised an eyebrow at him.

  “So you’re not interested at all in finding Wil?”

  “The witch? No.”

  “Kane, you stink at lying.”

  Kane bristled.

  “Our Grimoires were on that ship. We need to get our hands on them.”

  “Obviously they’re okay,” Tabitha said. “We can cast. We’d know if they were destroyed.”

  “Be that as it may, we also have more friends in Charleston than we do out here. We stand a better chance with numbers on our side.”

  Tabitha crossed her arms in front of her, stuck her chin out defiantly.

  “I want to look for Wilhelmina.”

  “Middleton first.”

  Tabitha stamped her foot.

  “Wilhelmina,” she said. “Besides, I hid the Grimoires that morning. There’s no way they can be found. I had a vision that there might be trouble, and I stowed them. They’re safe.”

  Kane looked at her, his shoulders slumping as he saw her eyes go completely white.

  “The ship is dead,” she said, her voice airy. “Intact, but she’ll never fly again. No crew. A few dead. The rest gone.” The white faded, her eyes returning to their brilliant blue. “The books are safe.”

  Kane knew better than to argue her visions. She’d seen the attack coming. Hidden the books. Likely, she’d tracked him down that morning to warn him, and forgotten in favor of Farnsworth’s pancakes.