Gaslit Armageddon (Clockworks of War Book 2)

by Jason Gilbert

  “No one is going to shoot their own,” Derricks said.

  “That’s what they’re counting on,” Kane said. “And while we’re busy defending ourselves from our own people, Gentry has another thing going on with the Special Forces. He didn’t say what it was, though.”

  Kane had left out the part where Agatha had helped him, given him information. He also didn’t tell them about his curse. The Wendigo was a different matter altogether. He needed them to trust him.

  “And we have Tabitha Drake and you to thank for all of this,” Anderson said, glaring at Kane. “We should’ve launched an initiative to come after you at Harbor. She shouldn’t have acted alone.”

  “I didn’t ask Tabitha to come after me,” Kane shot back. “She’s a grown woman, she does what she wants.”

  “Well, she managed to speed up the clock,” Anderson said as she turned her eyes to Wilson. “Report.”

  “We have half the number of men willing to fight that we had before,” Wilson said, not missing a beat. “Some of them know their way around a blunderbuss, others aren’t much beyond a pitchfork or a machete. And the numbers keep dropping. A lot are leaving the city as early as tomorrow.”

  “General,” Derricks said, moving closer to the desk. “With all due respect, I believe we might want to consider cutting our losses.”

  “Tactically speaking, I have to wonder if he’s right, Mr. Wilson,” she said. “Captain Farnsworth is no longer with us. Can you captain a ship? And how many could we take with us?”

  “No matter how many you pack into an airship, it won’t be enough,” Kane said. All three looked at him as if he’d just reminded them that he was in the room. “You’ve got a lot of people here. Families. You’d be leaving people behind.”

  “These zombies,” Anderson said. “What are they capable of?”

  “Anything Douglas tells them.” Kane sat back and crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking down as he organized his thoughts. “Likely, right down to using guns, though I’m pretty sure he’s going to have them armed with farm tools. It’ll send more of a statement to anyone else in the Confederacy: fall in line under Thaddeus Douglas, or get slaughtered like cattle by your own people. But there is one thing: The night Farnsworth and I were taken, one of the men fell in the water. He went back to normal instantly. He didn’t know where he was or how he got there.”

  Anderson stiffened. “Would that be who we found floating in the water the next morning?”

  Kane nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking Anderson in the eye. “I wish could’ve saved him. Farnsworth was attacking me.” He looked at the others. “The water woke him up. I wonder if we could use that?”

  Wilson stood straight.

  “There are the old fire brigade water carts,” he said. “It’s possible they could be filled with ocean water. I’d worry about the force of the pressure, though.”

  A knock came from the study door. Wilson stood and went to see who it was. He opened the door a crack, took a paper from whoever it was, nodded, and came back. He read over it, his eyes widening.

  “What is it, kid?” Kane asked.

  Wilson looked up, his face white.

  * * *

  Kane fought the urge to break into a sprint, walking quickly down Market Street and into the covered market toward Nick’s shop. Time was even shorter than he’d thought. Douglas was probably furious.

  That, and trying to swoop in before Gentry was the wiser.

  “They’re coming,” Wilson had said. “An army of people. Men. Women. All carrying farm tools. They all look dead. A hundred at least. Maybe more.”

  Damn.

  Kane approached Nick’s shop, tried the door. Locked. He pounded on it, shouted for Nick to answer.

  Wilhelmina’s voice came from behind him, almost startled him out of his skin.

  “He ain’t comin’ to that door, Magician. You know better than that.”

  Kane spun and saw her standing only a few feet away. She closed her eyes, swayed, the world swaying with her. Kane felt himself move quickly. He stopped abruptly, looking around at the lit candles, skulls, and dead things that littered the walls of Wil’s hut.

  “Where is he?” Kane asked. “And why did you bring me here again?”

  “Because here is where you need to be,” said Wil as she went to her table and grabbed her wooden bowl. She set it down and started pilfering through the assortment of bottles full of whatever toxic shit she kept around, moving aside legs, tails, and other parts of dead animals as she went. Her opossum snuck out from underneath the table, squeaked at Kane in fear, then fell over and played dead.

  She looked down at him, then up at Kane with a suspicious eye.

  “He see that beast growin’ inside you,” she said. “Takin’ you over. Soon, you ain’t gonna be able to hide it from your girl. She on the mend, though.”

  “You know about Tabitha?”

  Wilhelmina chuckled.

  “Who you think she came to? Needed hep findin’ you, she did. But she pay a price for usin’ all that magic. Just like it should be. All magic have a price.”

  “A price?”

  “It wear on you,” said Wilhelmina as she picked up a bottle of some black liquid and poured a small amount into the bowl. She reached down with a knife and cut the end off the opossum’s tail. He squeaked angrily as the tip grew back. She dropped the piece into the bowl, the fluid hissing and smoking. “Thats why you Magicians are so privileged. You refocus your power into that amulet of yours, make it pay the price instead of your bodies.” She turned to him, pouting her lower lip as she spoke in a mocking sympathetic tone. “You little people just couldn’t take the pain.” Her features hardened as she turned away, picked up another bottle, and added a few drops to the concoction she was making. “Make me sick. Magic is pain. It a manifestation of everythin’ at once. All your love, hate, joy, fear, everything into whatever it is you want your body to do at that time. All fueled by the elements chosen for your family generation old.” Wilhelmina picked up a candle and tilted it over the bowl. She lowered it until the flame caught the bile. Flames rolled in the mixture as she set the candle back down and held the bowl up. She picked up a metal spoon and stirred the mix until the flames died down, then approached Kane.

  “You, on the other hand, you got somethin’ different goin’ on entirely.”

  Kane shook his head.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Wilhelmina raised an eyebrow.

  “Are you that much of a fool, Kane Shepherd? You don’t see what’s right in front of your face?” She stepped closer, holding up the bowl. Kane tried to step back, almost tripped over Wilhelmina’s opossum.

  The Wendigo stirred, shuddered beneath Kane’s skin as it retreated away from the bile.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “This?” Wilhelmina looked down at the bowl, then back up at Kane. “This breakfast. It gonna keep your pet under control for a while. I know you met my sister. Agatha. I seen it. Where is she? Did you bring her with you?”

  Kane shook his head.

  “No, Richard took her before Tabitha could get there.”

  The March Witch’s eyes widened.

  “You let him take her?”

  “I didn’t have a whole lot of choice in the matter,” Kane said. “Garrett showed up.” He told her about Agatha’s plan to escape. And how it backfired.

  Wilhelmina picked up a bottle and threw it into the fire with a shout. The bottle burst, the flames in the fireplace billowing outward as Kane stepped back and put his arms up to shield himself against the heat. He turned back to her as the fire died back down to normal, saw her staring at him, her eyes wide with rage. She picked up the bowl, black smoke flowing steadily from it as she walked toward him.

  “Wendigo takin’ the price of your magic and spell-castin’,” she said as she held the bowl out to him. “That’s why you don’t feel no pain when you cast. No wear.”

  “Then it just got simple,” Ka
ne said. “I’ll cast until the bastard dies out.”

  She grinned.

  “Not so easy. He die, you die. You don’t feel him tired, but you share him life.” She nodded to the bowl. “Drink this.”

  Kane swallowed back vomit as the smell hit him: a mix of rotted meat, mold, and shit. The Wendigo retreated to the back of his mind as if running from the brew.

  “I think I’ll pass.”

  “Now.”

  “Still full from breakfast. Had possum tail with my eggs.”

  Wilhelmina stamped her foot.

  “You don’t got no time to be no wise-ass, Kane Shepherd. You wan’t my help, you do as I say. Now drink this vile disgustin’ bowl of shit and put that beastie to sleep for awhile, or I’ll spell you into a deep sleep and make you drink it!”

  Kane looked from the bowl to her and back again.

  “Your pretty girl lay in a bed, boy,” Wilhelmina said. “Until she wake, you stuck here. The Wendigo take you while she out, she ain’t got no way to defend herself. You wanna help her? You drink this, and we find a way to get my sister back.”

  Kane nodded, took the bowl, his stomach already doing flips. He held the bowl to his lips closed his eyes, drank as deep and fast as he could. Most of it got down his throat before the taste hit him. It was everything he figured a bowl of liquid shit would taste like. His stomach turned, and he heaved, the bowl hitting the floor as he dropped to his knees. His stomach convulsed again, feeling as if it were smacking his spine from the inside. He felt the Wendigo writhe in pain, heard it scream in his ears as it retreated, clawing around in his mind, trying to find a place to hide.

  The taste was suddenly gone from his mouth, his mind clearing instantly. His stomach settled.

  And the Wendigo stayed quiet.

  “Hand me that amulet,” he heard Wilhelmina say.

  Kane felt in his pocket instinctively.

  “Shit.” He stood, patted every pocket he had. Nothing. “Shit!”

  “Shit, what?”

  “The amulet,” Kane said, looking at her. “Christ, they still have it. I never got it back. Douglas has it.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Wilhelmina sent Kane back to the front of Nick’s shop with a simple warning.

  “Don’t think for a second that beast is gone,” she’d said. “Him just hidin’ right now. Till that potion out your system. Maybe a few hours. That’s what you got, Kane Shepherd. Three hours, maybe, then you back to cravin’ flesh and lookin’ at people like they your snack.”

  Kane decided to play it safe and consider it two hours. Two hours to get Tabitha to safety and prepare for a fight.

  And Douglas had his damned amulet.

  Kane left Market street and headed back toward the house on the Battery. The people of Charleston were getting ready for a fight, moving about as they hustled carts and wares to safety, a few mothers moving along with children following while the men made ready with Blunderbusses and whatever tools they could find to use as weapons. The sun was beginning to leave its high place in the sky, the afternoon growing late as Kane walked the Battery, the house in view a few hundred yards away. A horse carriage moved by, packed full of women and children, and a few men. All leaving.

  They could see the writing on the wall. Charleston was about to be a war zone.

  Where would they go? Columbia had fallen during the Civil War. According to the stories, she wasn’t much more than rubble on the ground. Hilton Head Island was mostly swamp land. The Special Forces had enough fire power to level the entire island to ash.

  Going South to Florida wasn’t an option. There was no Florida.

  During the Civil War, the Southern States had abandoned Florida, the lands too dangerous due to the crocodiles that lived in the swampy areas. The Union had tried a pincer attack, burning Georgia and parts of Florida to block off the Carolinas as they closed in from the North. The Confederates took Tallahassee back from the Union, staving off the fires before the entire city was destroyed, but the North had technology on their side. The Steam Revolution had just begun, and the Union had used the state of Florida as their testing ground for the new Battle Cruisers. Every major city was destroyed, bathed in napalm and shrapnel until every last citizen who couldn’t escape was dead, and every last structure was on the ground. The Union had stayed away from Charleston, however. Had steered clear from the Carolinas on the whole.

  Then again, the Union hadn’t become a complete Oligarchy at that point, and the Populists still had some say in the Northern government.

  It’d been Texas that had won the war for the Confederates. While the North was preoccupied with testing Battle Cruisers and resources on a mostly abandoned state of Florida, the Texan army had moved into key states like Illinois and Ohio, enlisting Oklahoma along the way. Virginia moved north and took New York. The Union army was cut off. They were done.

  Of course, then the slaves overthrew the Confederate Oligarchy.

  The wind blew the smell of saline off the water and up over the battery. Seagulls cawed in the distance. Kane saw a little girl with her father in the distance. She was tossing breadcrumbs over the Battery railing, laughing as the seagulls dove down to the rocks to retrieve their treat. The father glanced at Kane, his eyes sad, his smile bitter as he looked back down at his daughter, touched her shoulder, and motioned her to move on.

  “Mr. Shepherd!”

  Kane looked away from the pair and saw Wilson running toward him from the house. He shook his head, having not realized how far he’d walked.

  “What is it, Wilson?”

  The kid stopped in front of him, panting and out of breath.

  “It’s Miss Drake, sir. She’s awake.”

  * * *

  Kane barged through the front door, moving past the guards and up the stairs before they could stop him. He barely heard Wilson stop them from going after him, telling them to let Kane go.

  He’d thank the kid later.

  Tabitha’s bedroom door was open. He could hear people talking, hear the sound of…laughter?

  He slowed at the door, looked in.

  Tabitha sat up in the bed, her white night gown matching the comforter that still covered her lap. She grinned at the maids as they chatted with her. One made a joke, and all three of the girls laughed loudly. Tabitha joined them, then patted the bed rapidly, excited.

  “Ooooh! Pancakes! Can you make pancakes?”

  The oldest maid, likely the mother of the other two, put her hand on her hips not unlike Antonia Boudreaux as she shook her head and smiled.

  “Oh, honey, I can make you flapjacks make you never wanna leave the South!”

  Tabitha clapped rapidly with joy, then her eyes fell on Kane. The room went quiet as her smile faded, her eyes wide. The maids turned to the doorway, the oldest one nodding. Tabitha stared at him, her eyes watering.

  Kane searched for something to say, something to break the silence. There was so much he wanted to say, the flood only stopped by his closed mouth. He finally settled on the only thing that would come out.

  “Um…hey.”

  Masterful, Shepherd.

  Tabitha pitched forward, crawled across the bed toward the foot. Kane moved in, met her at the edge of the bed returned her fierce embrace as she sobbed into his neck.

  The mother spoke to her two daughters.

  “Let’s give these chirrun’ some time. Come now.”

  One of them spoke back to her elder.

  “Mama, the laundry.”

  “It can wait, girl, come now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Kane barely heard the women leave, close the door behind them as Tabitha wept. His neck was wet from her tears, his shirt getting damp. He didn’t care. He held her close, her body pressed against his, her breath hot on his neck, her lavender and vanilla scent intoxicating.

  He gently pulled away enough to look at her. She wiped the tears from her face and gave a small laugh.

  “It’s you,” she said. “It worked. You’re sa
fe.”

  “Yeah,” Kane said. “I was more worried about you. How do you feel?”

  She shook her head, smiled.

  “I feel great. Like I could eat breakfast and run from here to the other side of the city and back.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, Kane! She said she could make flapjacks! I guess those are like pancakes? Or maybe they are pancakes, and they just call them flapjacks here. I’m not really sure.”

  Kane just stared at her, thinking that he should be used to this by now.

  “Do you remember anything?” he asked. “Anything at all?”

  Tabitha shook her head.

  “Nothing past getting you and shifting back here. I think I blacked out just as we got back. Probably explains the rough landing.” She rubbed her shoulder and winced a little. “Why?”

  “You were at Death’s door this morning,” Kane said. “You’ve been out since we got back. I saw you, Tabitha. You looked like a corpse. Now you’re perfectly fine.”

  She looked hurt. He put his hand up to stop the flow of tears and upset, speaking quickly.

  “I mean, it doesn’t make sense that you went from near-death to perfect health in a matter of hours.” He backed away and paced the room, rubbed the stubble on his chin as he thought things over.

  “Kane, I’m fine,” said Tabitha. “Isn’t that what matters?”

  He stopped and looked at her. Her eyes were open, she was breathing, and she was full of her usual “Tabitha” energy. It did matter. He’d been distraught over the idea of losing her. He couldn’t help thinking that they’d lucked out somehow. That, or someone had helped. But who?

  Tabitha got off the bed and walked to him, her nightgown hanging down to her ankles. He couldn’t help taking it in as she moved closer to him, looking at how the gown hung off her shoulders, moved with her body, the garment modest and unrevealing but still enough to send the imagination wild.

  She reached up and put her hands on his face, pressing her forehead to his.

  “I’m okay,” she said, her voice low and soft. “You’re back. We’re together. That’s what matters.”