Gaslit Armageddon (Clockworks of War Book 2)

by Jason Gilbert

  One thing he would never say about Anderson was that she wasn’t prepared.

  “Derricks! The brace!”

  Derricks looked at the board.

  “Aye!” He moved off the door, pulled the brace off the wall and slid it into place, barring the doors. “That should hold ‘em!”

  Another crash. Anderson gave a shout, told Wilson to put the gun down.

  “Scott,” she shouted. “Stand down! Wake the hell up! Scott!”

  Scott? Kane thought. His body tensed. Farnsworth. Shit!

  He bolted for the sound of the struggle, reached the dining room as Wilson flew through the doorway, slammed into the wall, and collapsed onto the floor. The kid was out, his nose bloodied and his lip split. Kane looked away from him to see Farnsworth reaching for Anderson.

  Help her, Kane!

  Tabitha. Was she here, too?

  Kane shook his head. He needed his mind clear.

  Tabitha’s face formed in his mind’s eye, her eyes white as she called to him again.

  Tabitha.

  “Aethereum Ignus!”

  The Wendigo howled in pain as Kane’s hands grew hot. He lobbed a fireball at Farnsworth, knocked the large man off his feet. Anderson spun, her eyes wide in panicked anger.

  “Shepherd, no! Don’t hurt him!”

  “Back up, General,” Derricks said, pointing the blunderbuss at Farnsworth as the man got to his feet. The captain’s eyes were vacant, his almost black skin paling in the light. Kane saw something on Anderson’s face he’d never seen since he’d met the woman.

  Fear.

  It all happened in a matter of seconds. Seconds that felt like hours.

  “No!” Anderson stood in front of Derricks.

  Derricks shouted again.

  “Move, woman!”

  Farnsworth reached for Anderson, his hands out for her neck. Kane tackled her, shoved her out of the way, hurled a fireball at Derricks’ blunderbuss. The gun went flying out of his hands. Derricks ran at Farnsworth, shoved the man back onto the table. Farnsworth moved quickly as Derricks went for him again, grabbing the shipmate by the face. He towered over Derricks, letting the smaller man squirm and claw at his arm as he used both hands to lift Derricks into the air by his head. Farnsworth jerked savagely, the cracking sound from Derricks’ neck loud and sickening. He threw the dead shipmate into the fireplace, turned, setting his lifeless gaze on Kane and Anderson.

  They stood, Kane stepping in front of Anderson as he lobbed another fireball at Farnsworth. The blast hit him hard in the chest, sent him backward and rolling over the table. He hit the chairs on the other side, tipping them over as he went to the floor.

  Kane heard something outside. Shouting. Gears on clockwork horses clicking and moving. He glanced at the hallway, saw the empty spot where Wilson had been slumped moments before. He heard the kid shout outside.

  “Inside! The Captain!”

  Water. Fast and powerful.

  Farnsworth rose to his feet, his eyes locked on Kane and Anderson. He moved toward them again just as the dining room window blew inwards, force of the water stream lifting him off his feet and hurling him into the opposite wall. Kane looked, saw Guster outside with the horse-drawn fire carriage, the short burly man shouting orders to others as he fought to stay stable with the large water hose in his hands. He moved the stream away from the house and doused another group of zombies coming at him as his man cranked furiously on the pump on top of the large water tank.

  Kane heard Farnsworth sputter and cough. He turned away from the window and saw the man sitting up, shaking his head as he made a face, spitting water out furiously.

  Salt water.

  “Scott?” Anderson moved from behind Kane.

  Farnsworth looked up at her.

  “General? What the…how did…?”

  “No time,” Kane said as Anderson went to Farnsworth. Kane looked out the window as Guster shouted at the driver to get the horses going. The groups of slaves he’d hosed were waking up, all confused and terrified at once as more zombies made their way toward the fire fighter brigade. The stream from the hose was getting lower, the crowds closing in. Kane knew the look on Guster’s face, the strained and desperate look of a man at the end.

  A last stand.

  “Shit,” he muttered. He had to get out there. The Wendigo was quiet, likely reeling from the last spell he’d cast. He had to be careful. Kane felt the heat in his hands. He was still live. He lobbed a large fireball at the group closest to Guster. The ball hit the ground and exploded, sending people everywhere. Kane was out the window, the drop only six feet to the ground. He tucked into a roll to lessen the impact, was on his feet in an instant, shoulder-checked a zombie backward into a few that had broken away to come after him. Kane made his way toward Guster as the man shouted at the driver to get the horses moving. The clockworks had to have been old. Kane could hear gears grinding as the machines tried to move forward. One of them staggered, its leg locked up. The head dipped down, and the front chassis fell away.

  The cart stalled.

  Kane lobbed another fireball at a few that closed in on Guster as the other men scrambled away from the cart. Hands reached up, grabbed and pulled, taking Guster off the cart by his legs as he kicked and screamed.

  Kane rushed the scene, lobbing fireball after fireball. More zombies closed in on him, reached for him.

  Too many. Far too many. Where had they all come from?

  Thunder rolled in the sky, flashes of lightning white with sudden fury. The waves in the bay grew large, smacking into the Battery wall, spray flying in the air. Kane heard a voice on the wind. Low. Graveled.

  He knew that accent.

  “You don’ wait for nobody, Shepherd. Cain’t save none fo’ me?”

  Kane saw the ocean rise up into a column, a hand emerging from the top. The water gave way, and Wilhelmina grinned at Kane as she floated over the tidal wave. She opened her arms as thunder hammered in the sky, the sound loud and booming, the ground shaking under Kane’s feet. The sky opened up with torrents of rain, the salt droplets stinging worse than the acid rain from the North.

  Kane pulled his goggles on quickly as a few droplets stung his eyes. He looked around him, saw zombies go to their knees, the slave shaking their heads, blinking. He saw something move in the distance. A boat on the water. Someone sitting still, his arms outreached at the water spout where Wi lfloated.

  Nick chanted furiously, his eyes closed as he moved his hands as if he were shaping a vase on a Potter’s wheel. His fingers moved slightly, Wilhelmina’s water spout reacting and shaping as if Nick’s hands were around it.

  “Go get yo’ woman, Kane Shepherd,” Wil shouted. “I got ‘dis!”

  Kane nodded to her, moved through the crowds of soaked and waking slaves and toward the house. Tabitha’s voice came to him, far away this time.

  Kane! They’re moving me, Kane! Stay away!

  He stopped in his tracks.

  “Stay away,” he said to himself.

  Kane!

  He turned from the house and looked at Wil. She was in the air, high, at least a good forty feet. He spoke without yelling, hoped his voice would do the same trick it’d done when he’d tried to kill Danwood what seemed like years ago.

  “Can you see the city?”

  She nodded, still grinning at him.

  “’dey take her to the court house, ‘dey did,” she said. “Go back toward Market, Go, I keep the rain comin’!”

  * * *

  Kane rounded the corner at Broad Street and stopped. The rain came in heavy curtains around him, the saline in the air thick. His mouth felt slimy from the salt water that had gotten in from breathing heavy while he’d been running. He could see the large courthouse in front of him, the stairs running with water as if they were part of a fountain.

  No, Kane! Stay away!

  Kane couldn’t make himself push her warnings away. She was talking to him. It meant she was alive. He knew he was walking into some kind of trap
.

  He just didn’t care.

  He climbed the steps, careful to keep his footing on the slippery concrete as he made his way to the top and under the overhang supported by large columns. The door was soaked. He tried the handle, turned it easily. Unlocked.

  They were expecting him.

  He pushed the door open and entered the dark building, shutting out the rain behind him. The air inside was thick and musty, drier than outside, but still heavy. Kane pulled his goggles off and back down around his neck as he moved inside, stretching out with his hearing. He passed through the lobby and into the main courtroom. The benches had been either shoved aside or removed completely, likely demolished for firewood or building materials. The place was in ruin.

  “Tabitha?” he whispered, hoping he was projecting.

  Something scraped across the floor in the dark. A sigh. A low croaking sound in an unseen throat. Kane tensed, looked all around him as he braced for an attack. He opened his palm, focused the heat to his hand as a fireball formed. He held it up like a torch, tried to see what was making the noise in the rhythmic, jumping shadows as they danced in unison around him in the flickering light.

  A shadow moved out of rhythm.

  He hurled the fireball at it, watched the flames hit a wall and spread before going out, letting the dark bathe the place again. He conjured another fireball and held it out. The scorch mark on the plaster was impressive. He looked down at the floor, hoping to see Richard laying still and burned.

  “Missed me, piggy,” Richard’s voice cooed from the dark. “Try again?”

  Something brushed past Kane. His head whipped around, his cheek stung. He touched his face, the stubble wet, and looked at his hand in the firelight. His fingers were covered in blood. He spun on his heel as the shape made another pass, ducked the knife as the mass lashed out at him, jumped back from the bastard’s follow-up strike.

  “Very nice reflexes, piggy,” Richard chided from the dark. “Let’s change the game, shall we?”

  Shapes and shadows moved all at once, converged on Kane. He conjured a fireball in his other hand, held both up as he watched the thick blackness move and swirl around him like a tornado of sackcloth. A tendril shot out, whipped him across the face. Kane spun as another came out and struck his right wrist, putting out the fireball. One came for his left. He dodged, fell backward, still holding another fireball up as Richard formed from the waves of black, grinning at him, his eyes flashing like diamonds.

  The Shadow Wraith held his arms out as the tornado of black around them picked up speed.

  “Where is she?” Kane shouted at him. “What did you do with her?”

  “She’s with the Master,” Richard said, his tone mocking comfort and assurance. “Safe. From you.”

  The Wendigo moved slowly inside, it’s force in his mind loud and clear as it reached for his spine, weak and trembling. Stop magic. Put fireball down.

  I die, we die.

  The shadow storm faded around them. Kane conjured a second fireball, the Wendigo groaning in pain.

  Gaslights around the room came to life, low and bluish light filling the room outside of the orange glow from his fireballs. Richard stared at Kane, smiling as the sound of a mallet on a block filled the courtroom.

  Douglas’s voice called out.

  “Hear ye, hear ye! All ye shut the hell up for the honorable Thaddeus Douglas!” Kane looked up at the judge’s bench, dousing the fireballs quickly to get rid of the temptation to use them and burn the old man standing behind the desk to a cinder.

  The fact that Tabitha was next to him made the decision to stay Kane’s hand even easier.

  Her hands were bound behind her back, a scarf tied around her head and in her mouth as a gag. Her face was tear-streaked, her eyes swollen from crying. She trembled, visibly terrified as Douglas put his hand on her shoulder. Kane bristled, stormed toward the bench as he bellowed at Douglas.

  “Keep your fucking hands off her!”

  Douglas laughed, putting his arm around her as if she were his daughter.

  “Now, now, Mr. Shepherd! I do believe that is no way for a man in your position to address a man in my position.” He shook his head, chuckling. “And here I thought we were gettin’ to be such good buddies!”

  “Right,” Kane said, his tone bitter. “Who needs enemies?”

  Douglas gave a snort, pulled his arm away from Tabitha, and sat down in the judge’s chair, leaning back casually as he spoke.

  “Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? You and I have a common enemy, Mr. Shepherd. Believe it or not, we’re on the same side!”

  “I’m not into slavery and controlling others against their will,” Kane said. “Sets us apart.”

  Douglas shrugged.

  “Tomato, to-mah-to. Point is, we both hate that Brit from the North.” Douglas leaned forward, clasped his hands in front of him on the desk as he looked down at Kane. “See, that greasy, pig-fuckin’ sonofawhore is what stands between me and the Northern Oligarchs helping me reinstate the Southern Oligarchs as a major power here in this grand nation. The Confederacy needs to be reformed and reunited.”

  “It wasn’t the North who brought you down,” Kane said. “I’m sure the slaves had something to say about you bastards winning the war.”

  Douglas laughed as he shook his head.

  “Yeah, they sure did! Fact is, they didn’t like that worth a damn! But they aren’t really an issue anymore, now are they? Richard there stole enough of that zombie powder from that voodoo fella to build the army that just invaded this shit hole of a city. Strike a little terror in ‘em. Make ‘em think twice before acting like they have a chance in hell of standin’ up against me.”

  “Well, they thought twice,” Kane said, letting the smirk form on his lips. “Turns out they don’t give a damn what you throw at them. Your army just got wiped out. Probably won’t be long before every one of the zombies you enslaved are cured and back in their homes.”

  Douglas smiled.

  “I’m well aware that you went into cahoots with the Voodoo fella and the Marsh Witch. Richard’s watched your every move since your lady friend, here, got you sprung from the plantation.” Douglas patted Tabitha on the ass as if she were livestock. Kane took a step forward, stopped when Douglas stood, pulled a large revolver from his vest, and aimed it at her head. The Master leaned forward as he spoke. “Now, now, hot-head. No need to see this pretty thing’s brains hit the wall.”

  Tabitha whimpered, fresh tears flowing down her face, her breathing fast as she looked sidelong at the gun pressed against her skull. Kane knew the reaction. People who’d never been pulled on before had a higher tendency to panic, focus on the weapon, and panic more when reality set in.

  “Tabitha, look at me,” said Kane, keeping his voice calm. “Tabitha, now. Get your eyes off the gun and look at me.”

  Her eyes darted to him, wide as her lower lip trembled around the gag.

  “That’s right,” Kane said. “Just me. Just focus on me. It’s going to be okay.”

  “Well, now, that’s all relative, isn’t it?” Douglas smiled as he pressed the gun harder against Tabitha’s head. “I think someone is gonna come out on top in this, but I promise it ain’t you or that Euro-trash runnin’ the Northern Special Forces.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Pretty simple, really,” said Douglas. “I want you two working for me. Two Magicians are better than one, anyway.”

  “We’ve had this conversation. Our magic is unstable. We’re no good to you.”

  “Oh, I beg to differ!” Douglas nodded to Richard. The Shadow Wraith approached the bench and placed a small cloth sack down on the edge. “Come take a look, Mr. Shepherd.” He pressed the gun even harder, causing Tabitha to cry out in pain. “Slow, of course.”

  Kane stepped forward, reached, up, took the sack. He opened it and turned it up, emptying the contents into his hand.

  It was in perfect condition, the crystal white and bluish from the pure clean
grease inside. The tiny gears looked brand new, and the white gold framework looked polished and fresh, the design like ice crystals holding the stone and its inner workings in place.

  Tabitha’s amulet.

  Kane looked up at Douglas as the old man chuckled.

  “Your Mr. Gentry was kind enough to drop that off during his last visit.” He nodded to Richard. “Well, at least kind enough to leave himself open to letting Richard snatch it from his pocket. Either way.”

  Kane looked at Tabitha.

  “You said it was broken.”

  She looked down at the amulet, her eyes searching furiously, blinking in disbelief. She’d thought it’d been broken, too. Had someone fixed it?

  “Well, now, maybe she wasn’t entirely honest with you,” Douglas said, winking. “Women have their secrets, after all. I’ll tell you what, Mr. Shepherd: how about you set that amulet right back down and take a few steps away? Otherwise I can have Mr. Remington, here, take a .44 caliber look-see through her whole library of secrets.”

  Kane obediently set the amulet down and backed away, seething.

  “We’ll do what you want,” he said, nodding to Tabitha. “Put the gun away. We’ll go with you.”

  Douglas gave a laugh as he pulled the revolver away from Tabitha’s head and shoved it back in the holster.

  “Oh, I don’t doubt that in the slightest little bit, Mr. Shepherd! You’re damned skippy you’ll come with me! Ain’t gonna be long before that Gentry fella hears about this little incident here in Charleston and comes back around, and he is just gonna love the fact that you two fine people are now my personal property!”

  Chapter Twenty

  Kane couldn’t look around the dark shack. He couldn’t take in the space that had been his home at Harbor Plantation before Tabitha had rescued him, couldn’t try to find a way to break out. The orange glow from the gas lamp was all he had, and it barely gave enough light to see to the walls.

  He was too focused on Agatha’s lifeless body sprawled across the small bed, the single cover pulled up over her head.