Kane stood silent for a moment, tried to let it all make sense to him. He would never hurt Tabitha. Never turn on the Revolution. They’d saved his and Tabitha’s lives in New Chicago. But who would’ve cursed him?
“They’s steps to ‘dis curse, Kane Shepherd,” the witch continued. “An’ jus’ like they’s steps to make it, they’s steps to break it.”
“Who did this to me?”
Wilhelmina’s eyes flashed. She tensed, her mouth drawn in a snarl, her stare hard and angry.
“That don’t matter, white man,” she said, her tone icy and forceful. “You gonna spend all your time worryin’ about who and why, and everythin’ around you gone end up in ashes. Or worse. Focus on liftin’ your curse before you leave nothin’ but pain and blood in your wake.” She turned in her seat and faced him full. The opossum shifted in her lap to get more comfortable, lifted its head, sniffed at her hand as if to ask her to keep petting. “You got a job to do, and your Revolution friends and your woman depend on you doing what I say. It all connected. Them Rebels, your woman, that white Euro-man who came to Charleston today…and that hellish plantation them Hunters almost drug you to.”
“Harbor?” Kane took a step closer. “What about that place?”
“Your General losin’ people, too. And the Master is the man responsible. I got a job for you. Something you gotta do.”
“And if I don’t?” Kane asked. He had no intention of being under the control of a crazy woman, but he couldn’t risk the alternative, either. He had to know everything, the consequences if he failed. He had no intention of sitting back and letting things play out, but he also knew that the unknown would eat away at him, keep his mind too occupied to focus.
Too occupied to protect Tabitha and his friends from himself.
Wilhelmina looked back at him, her mouth drawn up into a vicious and toothy grin.
“You kill them all. Your Revolution fail. And them rich men, them ones you call ‘Oligarchs,’ they keep running the country like you and yours never existed. All while you a puppet for whoever put this curse on you. But you, Kane Shepherd, you’ll live. You be powerless to stop any of it. And all that blood and pain will be on your hands. Now go back where I found you and get to work.” She reached out, her arm extending a ridiculous and grotesque length. Her fingers flicked in his face, forced him to blink and step back.
The cool night air greeted him as suddenly as the warm of the witch’s hut left. He looked around, his senses assaulted by the dark quiet of the cabin. His mind was a blur, trying to put together what had happened in the blink of an eye.
Farnsworth’s voice startled him, his heart feeling as if it might leap up his throat.
“Shepherd!”
The man appeared in the doorway, a gas lamp in his hand, Wilson behind him with a blunderbuss drawn and ready.
“We heard the commotion, sir,” the kid said. “What happened?”
“It was Richard,” said Kane, looking at them. “How long have you been standing there?”
“We just got on board,” said Farnsworth. “You must have given him what for quick!”
Kane looked around the room. The place was a wreck between scorch marks on the walls, upturned cots, and splintered wood.
“The Marsh Witch,” Kane said. “You didn’t hear her?”
“No, good sir,” Farnsworth said, raising an eyebrow. “Though I’ve heard stories. If she’s against us, we’re in a lot of trouble.”
Kane looked at him, shook his head.
“No, our trouble is just starting.”
Chapter Eight
Kane dismounted his horse and looked around the stables, his senses on high alert. It was after midnight. Richard could be anywhere. Watching.
Waiting.
A Shadow Wraith. That was a new one on Kane. He’d never heard of Shadow Wraiths, which surprised him. Then again, he felt it was wrong to be surprised since he’d never known about Blood Priests, yet he’d had so much interaction with them in his childhood. Witches, Voodoo Priests, and Shamans were as common knowledge as Magicians. But it seemed like there were still so many he didn’t know about. Another question grated at him, raised the hairs on his neck.
How many of these psychopathic magic users were there?
People who could use magic were still people. They had thoughts, feelings, agendas, and could even be killed with no more difficulty than an average human being. It wasn’t so much that there were some who were completely insane, it was the fact that Kane seemed to be attracting all if the magical nut-jobs at once. Sarah Broussard, Richard, Wilhelmina.
Gentry.
The man was cool and calculating, but so were a good many serial killers.
He felt some relief at the sound of Tabitha’s voice from inside the stable.
“Kane!”
She stepped out into the moonlight as Farnsworth and Wilson rode up behind Kane and dismounted. Malachi stomped at the ground a few times and grunted.
“He’s hungry,” Farnsworth said.
“They’re always hungry, sir,” Wilson said, his tone still dutifully all business.
Kane was about to respond when Tabitha smacked into him, her arms tightly around him, her face buried in his chest. Kane put his arms around her, his heart speeding up slightly, his stomach a knot.
“You got a hellish curse on you, Kane Shepherd. And an enemy out ‘dere who wanna see everyone you love decay and die.”
Wilhelmina had said that Kane was supposed to do the “dirty work.” His dreams, the curse. She’d said they were related. That he would hurt someone.
Tabitha?
The thought made his chest hurt.
“You came back! And you found your hat!”
Kane pulled her away gently and looked at her. Her eyes were their normal brilliant blue in the bright moonlight.
And anxious.
“What happened?”
“I didn’t see anything,” Tabitha said, stepping back, her eyes dropping. He forced himself not to get annoyed with her childlike demeanor. Now wasn’t the time. “I tried, Kane. I shifted when I could. It’s hard. It took me a few tries, but I managed to look over as much of the city as I could.” She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I couldn’t do it anymore. It made me so tired. Please don’t be mad at me, Kane.”
“Tabitha, just tell me what happened.”
She swallowed hard.
“People went missing, Kane. One of them went while his wife was in their parlor reading.”
“How many?” Farnsworth asked.
“I don’t know,” Tabitha said, shaking her head as she glanced at him. “Someone sounded the alarm bell. The whole city is up now. Anderson ordered a census. One of them was that nice man, Anthony. The one who rescued us from those Hunters.” She looked back at Kane. “Kane, I’m so sorry! You relied on me-”
“And you did exactly what I asked,” Kane said, putting his hand on her shoulder, his eyes on hers. “I wanted you to watch and fill me in. Not get into it with a lunatic. Where is Anderson?”
Tabitha shrank back, grimacing as she spoke.
“You’re gonna be so mad…”
* * *
Kane pulled back on the reins, brought Malachi to a halt in front of the bustling group of men as they worked to ready the airship. It was smaller than the Middleton had been, with fewer cannons and turbines. An old military scout ship.
What the hell was she planning?
Tabitha tightened her grip around his waist from behind, shifting in the saddle as she spoke in his ear.
“There she is.” Kane heard her take a deep breath. “I think she’s crazy, Kane.”
Kane spotted Anderson ahead, shouting orders to the men as they prepped the ship. He nodded as he spoke.
Kane gave Malachi a squeeze with his legs, urging the horse on. Anderson turned and saw them approaching. She looked at Kane and frowned, rolled her eyes.
He guessed he wasn’t exactly hiding what was on his mind with his facial expression.<
br />
“I don’t want to hear it, Shepherd,” she barked.
“Either you’re crazy or fucking stupid,” Kane said, bringing Malachi to a halt in front of her. “What the hell are you doing?”
Anderson looked as if she might breathe fire, her eyes narrowed and her lips tight as she spoke through gritted teeth.
“Watch your mouth, Shepherd!”
Kane motioned to Tabitha to dismount, then he did the same, handing the reins to her as he approached the fuming General Anderson.
“You’re out of your damned mind,” he said, raising his voice. “You don’t remember us running like hell from a Battle Cruiser just a couple of days ago?” He gestured at the airship. “What the hell makes you think that little boat is going to stand up to a Cruiser?”
“Who said we’re going airship hunting?” Anderson shot back. “We’re headed to Harbor Plantation. Nine men, Shepherd! Nine! All of them gone in the dead of night without a trace. Enough is enough!”
Damn it. So much rested on her not attacking Harbor Plantation. If she destroyed the place, it was possible she could start a bigger fight than she was ready for. An attack on any plantation would be a declaration of open war. Gentry had also warned her. The Revolution was to lay down. Disband. He’d been clear that he could kill them all.
Would kill them all.
Not to mention the hellfire that bastard would rain down on Charleston and her people. Hundreds of innocents dead.
“You don’t even know if that’s where they went,” Kane said, stepping closer.
“I know it’s a Southern Oligarch establishment.” Anderson stood tall, put her hands behind her back. “That’s all we need. It’s time to retaliate.”
“Christ,” Kane muttered, rubbing his eyes. He pulled his hand away and spoke in a lower voice. “You’re barging in to look for people and make a strike? The Southern Oligarchs are owned and operated by the Union Oligarchs. You know that.”
“Exactly,” Anderson said, her jaw set. “It’s time we stop sitting back while they take us one by one, now en masse. It’s time to strike back. They won’t expect a small gunnery ship. We go in, rescue the slaves there, and wipe the place out before they know what hit them. This is how it works, Shepherd. This is war.”
Kane was in her face in a flash, his nose close enough to hers to possibly slip one piece of paper between them. Not two. He stood taller than her by a head, looking down on her, his eyes wide with anger.
“Now let me tell you how this works,” he said, his tone dark. “These people will kill you. William Gentry is a maniac, he’s a son of a bitch, and he means what he says. We strike, the city gets wiped out. We’re done. He’ll bring the full might of the Special Forces and Union Military down on us, and we’ll be dead before the sun rises. All of us. All of these people. Women. Children. He does. Not. Care.” His pulse raced, his skin sweating in the night air. His fists clenched by his sides. Kane wanted to hit her. He saw himself in his mind, smashing her teeth in, breaking her face, the blood gushing from her nose, her blood running over his hands and arms when he tore her open as her men stood by in horror.
He blinked, shook his head as he turned away. What the hell is wrong with me? He took in a deep breath; let it out slowly as he spoke over his shoulder.
“You do what you want. I may have led Gentry here, and those nine men from earlier are on me. I’m sorry for that. But if you do this, you’ll have a lot more innocent blood on your hands than I do.” He turned back to her. “I know you’re angry. It’s a lot. But you can’t do this. You know as well as anyone what the risks are. I know Gentry. You won’t win this. Not right now.”
“Ma’am,” one of the men said behind Kane. He turned around and saw the man tap General Anderson on the shoulder. “The ship is prepped.”
She regarded him, looked at Kane, then shook her head, her face twisted in disgust.
“Break it down,” she said. “The mission is off.”
Kane nodded to her, turned, and walked back toward Tabitha. She handed him Malachi’s reins as Farnsworth and Wilson rode up. Farnsworth looked around at the commotion as Anderson barked more orders to disarm and shut the boilers in the ship down.
“What’s happening here?”
“Nothing,” Kane said.
Tabitha leaned in close to him and whispered, excited.
“You were so brave!”
Kane looked back over his shoulder again. Anderson was glaring hard at him, her eyes dark with fury.
“Yeah,” he said, looking away. “Brave. We’ll call it that.”
He had no problem getting in someone’s face if he had to. Confrontation wasn’t really an issue with him, and he was aware that his temper was something to be reckoned with when he got rolling. But he’d never imagined himself mauling someone. Kane didn’t wish violence on other people. He didn’t fantasize about killing people. In truth, killing was something he only ever did as a last resort, and he’d only ever killed one person.
Someone he’d once loved.
The image of Sarah’s face appeared in his mind’s eye, her pretty features twisted in agony as the flesh seared off her face, exposing a charred skull.
“Kane. Kane?”
Tabitha snapped her fingers in his face. He blinked, realized he was still walking, Malachi’s reins in his right hand, and Tabitha on his left. The stables were only a few yards away.
“What? I’m sorry.” He shook the image out of his mind. “Were you saying something?”
“Yes, I was,” Tabitha said, curtly. “And I would expect my boyfriend to listen to me when I speak.”
“Sorry. What were you saying? I’m listening now. I promise.”
“Right,” she said with a huff. “I was saying that I think Anderson doesn’t like you very much. And I’ve also noticed something else during all of the commotion around here while you were gone.”
“Okay, spill.”
“Everyone who’s disappeared has been black.”
“Tabitha, the majority of the people living here are black.”
She shook her head, her exasperation so childish it almost made Kane chuckle. He kept his cool. He knew her right hook all too well.
“I know that. You can be a jerk sometimes, Kane.”
“Sorry.”
She rolled her eyes and continued.
“I asked Anthony earlier about the disappearances. Before he disappeared. No one who’s gone missing has said anything about wanting to leave, and it’s always the individual, not the entire family. All black men.”
Kane nodded.
“That is interesting.”
They reached the stable. Kane removed Malachi’s bridle, and went to remove the saddle as he spoke. Malachi stood still, seeming to be relieved that he was done for the night.
It was no secret that some southern plantations still practiced slavery. They were few and far in between and were protected by the Union. The Northern Oligarchs took pains to make sure that those plantations didn’t see the light of day of a slave rebellion, right down to having a military presence on the larger properties. But those plantations were outside of South Carolina. In fact, they were predominantly in Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Virginia. There were a few in parts of New Mexico and Arizona, the territories that were recognized as part of the Confederacy, but not truly under Confederate control. Kane may not have fought in the wars, but he knew his history. They’d been on the fence about secession during the Civil War, and only Arizona had come under full control before the war had ended with the South the victor, and the North sitting back and waiting until the time was right to occupy the Southern Government with big money and a willingness to feed the greed of desperate men who stood to lose their wealth to rightfully angry slaves.
Harbor Plantation had the eye of General Anderson. She’d mentioned it repeatedly ever since their arrival in Charleston. And likely for good reason. It was where the Hunters had tried to take Kane and Tabitha. But why? They weren’t black. An Oligarch enslaving white
s would be considered a race traitor.
“I hate it when you go quiet, Kane,” Tabitha said, crossing her arms in front of her. “It usually means you’re about to do something insane.”
“Like check out Harbor Plantation?”
Tabitha’s eyes widened.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean! Kane, those three men were going to kill us!”
Kane shook his head as he pulled the saddle and pad off Malachi’s back and let the horse wander off into the stable to eat hay. Kane rested the saddle on a board that jutted from the wall and turned to her.
“What’s with you? Back in New Chicago, you were all for me going to the Mermaid. Which turned into one of the most interesting evenings of my life, by the way.” Kane had a flash in his memory of the Mermaid, the high-end brothel in New Chicago, the wealthy, and the politicians they owned drinking it up and chatting about their fortunes and the Magician threat.
And Tabitha in a red, form-fitting evening gown.
She glared at him.
“Kane, that was New Chicago. My home. This place is another world entirely. I knew what to expect up there. The South is nothing like anything I’ve ever seen or experienced.” She gave a huff and looked away. “About the only thing they’ve got that reminds me of home is pancakes. Still not as good as Ralphie’s.”
Kane brought his hand up to touch her arm, then thought better of it as an image flashed through his mind. Tabitha staring at him, her eyes torn out of her blood-soaked face.
“You did this to me.”
She looked at him.
“What is it?”
“Huh?”
“Kane, you look spooked. You never look spooked.”
He blinked a few times, turned away. He couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t hurt her. Didn’t want to hurt her. Not now. Not ever.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
Kane startled a little. Tabitha rarely cursed, so it was always a bit of a shock when she did. She stepped around in front of him, her brow furrowed, concern teetering on frustration.
“There’s something going on, Kane,” she said. “I saw something before you left. A shadow. I couldn’t make it out, but I knew it had it in for you. What happened out there?”
Gaslit Armageddon (Clockworks of War Book 2) Page 9