She couldn’t have been dead long, maybe just since Kane’s escape. A day. Or more? They were all running together, the lack of sleep weighing on him like a ton of bricks. Not as much as what would happen when he had to tell Wilhelmina that her sister was dead. The deal would be off. No fixing his amulet, no cure for the Wendigo. He knew the kind of rage she would fly into.
He was all too familiar with it.
Kane spent time in the home after his parents were murdered by the Hunters. He’d befriended a boy there. Caesar. He’d been the only black kid out of fifty boys in the home. He and Kane hit it off immediately, becoming as close as brothers in only a few weeks. There had been some looks, a white boy and a black boy inseparable, always playing together or plotting whatever mischief they’d get into that particular week. Or day.
Or hour.
A few months in, a boy from the South was brought into the home. The kid was large, surly, and took pleasure in bullying the other kids. His favorite target was Caesar. The kid, Henry, had taken to calling Caesar “Negro,” a name he’d coined for him the day he’d decided to slap Caesar around on the basketball court behind the orphanage. Kane had been in cafeteria, and Caesar had trash duty that day. Henry cornered him, broke his nose and split his lip, was working on his ribs when Kane heard the commotion and went outside. The volunteers at the orphanage were doing nothing, standing back while Henry worked over Caesar, kicking him over and over, stamping on his face and screaming racial slurs at him.
Caesar wasn’t moving.
“Wha…what did you do?” he stammered, taking a step closer as Henry stopped kicking Caesar’s body and turned around. The kid grinned at Kane, out of breath.
“What the fuck do you care, ya’ little shit?” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. The blood on his knuckles smeared on his face, specks staining his white shirt. “One less negro ain’t gonna hurt nothin’.”
Kane looked down at Caesar. His body was limp, his head at an odd angle, his eyes open. Staring.
Gone.
Kane flew at Henry, screaming as tears stung his eyes, his blood pounding in his ears. The kid’s grin grew broader, then dropped as Kane got nearer. Henry’s eyes widened in fear. He put his arms up to defend himself from the lanky boy coming at him, but Kane slid to the ground, tangled his legs into Henry’s, took the boy to the ground. Kane was on him, straddling him, swinging over and over. Henry’s head whipped left and right. Cheekbones breaking, nose crushed, eyes blackened, teeth went flying. Kane grabbed the boy by his hair and began to slam his head into the asphalt over and over as hands grabbed his arms and shoulders to pull him off. Kane kept going, fighting against the volunteers as they pulled him off. He kicked out, caught Henry’s jaw, the crack of bone satisfyingly loud. Kane could still hear Henry wailing and moaning as they dragged him off to solitary confinement until the head mistress of the orphanage could be notified and a decision made.
Caesar’s body was disposed of, the incident was swept under the rug, and Kane was shipped off to another home with careful instructions.
“Keep in solitude.”
It was the first time Kane’s rage had gotten the better of him. His parents dead, his only brother gone. And the one responsible right there in front of him. He couldn’t stop it.
He wouldn’t stop it.
“Kane?”
He blinked at Tabitha’s voice, letting it pull him from the memory. They’d locked her up in the shack next to his, but far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to hear each other by shouting. Her voice rode on the air, a whisper in his ear. He was glad they hadn’t locked them up together. He could feel the thing inside his consciousness.
He couldn’t let his guard down. The Wendigo was too close.
He didn’t trust himself to not hurt her.
He rubbed his face as he answered.
“I’m okay,” he said. “Just make sure you don’t cast anything. We’re being guarded.” A guard had been posted at both shacks with a gun and a simple direction: If one casts, the other dies. Douglas wasn’t playing games anymore.
“Whose body is in there with you?”
“She was Wilhelmina’s sister,” Kane said. “This changes things. Changes everything.”
“How did she die?”
“I don’t know. They must have done it after I left.”
Silence. He expanded his hearing and spoke. “Just talk low. I can hear you. Don’t wear yourself out.”
Tabitha spoke quickly, the words all coming at once, her tone that of a child caught red-handed in mischief.
“Kane, I don’t know how my amulet got here. I saw Danwood destroy it, I promise. I had no idea.”
“You saw him destroy it?”
“Yes. He pulled the pouch I keep it in out of his pocket and smashed it with a hammer.”
Kane sat up.
“Did he take it out of the pouch?”
Quiet. He heard her shift.
“Well…no. He just smashed the pouch.” Her tone suddenly went confident and happy. “But I knew you’d come rescue me, and I could make another one!” She went quiet again, her tone a little softer. “Then you came and you were kind of mean. And you…didn’t.”
Kane shook his head.
“Christ, Tabitha, focus.”
“Just saying. I mean, I get why you were mean, but it still hurt.”
“We’re in deep shit and you want to argue about this? Again? You want to hit me again? Will that make you feel better?” Kane mentally slapped himself for letting his tone get so sarcastic. “Sorry.”
“Besides, silly, you’re in another building. I can’t hit you again.”
Kane wondered if Douglas would offer him a drink before he made whatever shit deal with Gentry he’d cooked up. Maybe he’d just save the redneck bastard time and ask for one.
Tabitha’s next question caught him by surprise.
“Are we going to die?”
“No,” he said. “Not yet. Not like this.” He paused, the words there. “Not you.”
He heard her breath catch. She spoke again, her voice a whisper.
“Kane…”
“I know,” he said, looking away from the direction her voice was coming from. “I’ve been holding off for so long. Waiting. I’m an asshole. I’m sorry. I should’ve said something sooner, I just…I can’t…”
“Kane! Kane!”
Kane sprung to his feet as her panicked cries grew louder. He heard her struggle, someone grunt as if they’d been kicked.
Richard’s voice, angry and hard.
“You’ll pay for that, pretty rabbit.”
“Get away from her, you bastard!”
Richard appeared in front of him in a storm of shadows, leering at him.
“Can only transport one at a time,” he said. “The Master would like a word.”
Kane looked around the room as the dark closed in. His feet left the floor, and he was shoved forward in a world of black. He blinked a few times before he realized that he sat in a chair in Douglas’s study.
Tabitha squirmed in Richard’s grasp, tried to break free. He jerked her, hissed something in her ear as he held up her amulet. They stood behind Douglas, the old man sitting in his high-backed desk chair with his elbows on his desk, his hand stroking his goatee methodically as he studied Kane.
“Evenin’,” he said. “I’m sure you’d just be tickled to know why I called you two in here.”
“The thought crossed my mind,” Kane said. Keep it cool, Shepherd. Lose your temper, it’ll be bad. For her.
Douglas gave a chuckle and stood, moving toward the fireplace with his hands clasped behind his back as he spoke.
“That Gentry fella will be here shortly. I’ve already sent word that I’d like a meeting with him. Course…well hell, he’s one of you people. Might already be walkin’ up the front stoop.”
“As if it didn’t stink enough in here,” Kane muttered.
Douglas laughed and turned toward him, his back to the dark fireplace.
“You and that wit! Boy, I’ll tell you, if it weren’t for your talents, I’d have strung you up outside from a tree branch along with the rest of the–”
“Watch it,” Kane snapped, sitting up straight.
“Or what?” Douglas took a step toward him, his shoulders square, his tone confident. Triumphant. “You gonna stand up and do me in? I’m pretty sure Richard, here, might take issue with that. Son, he’d have you dead on this rug before you could so much as breath funny. He’s loyal to me. Man would lay down his very life for me.” Douglas held his hand up, rubbing his fingers together. “It’s all about money, Mr. Shepherd. Everyone has their price. I pay Richard handsomely, grant him a few freedoms, and he protects me with his life. Pretty simple, really.”
“Money,” Kane said with a laugh. “Right. Like money does anyone down here any good. Wake up. You live in a fucking swamp. The major cities here are graveyards. The South is a wasteland. The Confederacy is done. The South serves the Northern Union. Learn to live with it.”
“The South shall rise again, Mr. Shepherd,” Douglas said, stiffening, his tone growing thick with anger. “I would ask that you show some respect.”
Why did he get pissy? Kane thought. His hands are shaking. Look at his eyes. Keep going with it. Make him lose control.
“Respect?” Kane raised an eyebrow. “Kiss my ass. You backwards bastards need to get your shit together and know your roll. Gentry walks in that door, all he’s going to do is remind you that you’re his bitch.”
“Well see about that,” Douglas said, glaring at Kane, his face red with fury. “I have two things that slimy son of a bitch wants. He wants you, he’ll bend over. The Oligarchy won’t have a choice in the matter. The Southern Oligarchs will reform, and I will be the head man in charge. You two are my ticket to rebuilding the Confederacy as a sovereign nation.” He grinned at Kane, his eyes flashing as he leaned down, putting his nose inches from Kane’s. “Then, we’ll see how the North likes occupation in their government. A few payoffs, a little muscle, some magic thrown in, and the Oligarchs won’t have a choice. They will be my ‘bitches.’”
“How quaint. It seems you still have your delusions of grandeur.”
Douglas stood straight, his eyes wide in surprise. Kane gave a smirk as Gentry spoke again.
“Do tell me if I am interrupting something, Mr. Douglas. It seems you and Mr. Shepherd are having quite the lively conversation.”
Douglas backed away as Gentry approached, took the seat next to Kane, and smiled at him.
“I…we were…” Douglas stammered as he grumbled something else and sat back down at his desk. Richard glared at Gentry, jerked Tabitha closer to him. She looked at Kane, her eyes pleading as Richard grasped her amulet in his other hand.
Kane shook his head slightly at her. She nodded, understanding.
“Save it, Mr. Douglas,” Gentry said, waving off the man’s sputtering. “It appears Mr. Shepherd, here, has gotten under your skin enough to make you speak your mind. Say something…ignorant, as it were. He’s actually quite capable of that, as one must be in his line of work.” Gentry looked sidelong at Kane and nodded. “Well, what used to be his line of work. Alas, his office suffered a mysterious fire several weeks ago.”
“Thanks, William,” Kane said, mocking gratitude.
Douglas grit his teeth as he leaned forward on his desk.
“I don’t care what you heard, Limey,” he said to Gentry, his tone acidic. “It’s the damned truth. I have you by your proper-British balls. These two belong to me, now. You want anything to do with them, then I expect President Frostmeyer down here in my office in the next two days.”
Gentry laughed as he pulled his pocket watch out of his jacket and opened it. He looked at the time, nodded, and put the watch away.
“In a few moments, Mr. Douglas, you are going to see the gravity of your error in judgement.”
Douglas’s eyes widened as he sat back in his chair.
“What the hell are talkin’ about?”
“It’s quite simple, really,” Gentry said, standing. He straightened his suit, stepping forward and looking done at Douglas as he spoke. “You’ve dug your own grave. In fact, long before I came down here. You have a difficult time knowing when to keep your mouth shut, apparently.” He glanced at Kane, then turned his serpentine stare back at Douglas. “Particularly when you are angered or provoked, which comes easy to you, it seems.” Gentry turned away from Douglas and walked over to the small table near the fireplace. He picked up the brandy snifter, poured a small glass and turned to face Douglas. He raised the glass and smiled at the old man. “But not to worry, the Special Forces will handle matters.”
The house shook, the explosion outside deafening. Douglas’s eyes widened in shock and horror as the dark sky outside suddenly glowed bright orange, the fire outside rising instantly, the sound of debris hitting the side of the plantation house like heavy rain drops. Kane looked at Gentry, his pulse racing.
“Are you kidding? You’re having them attack the place with airships?!”
Gentry stood shook his head, smiling at Kane.
“No, Mr. Shepherd,” he said with a sigh as he casually set his empty brandy glass down on Douglas’s desk. “Just one.”
Kane shot to his feet, Tabitha giving a shout as Richard shoved her down and moved behind Douglas. The large knife protruded from Douglas’s chest before Kane could make a move, the tip dripping blood. Douglas choked, blood pouring from his mouth, his hands twitching, a strained hiss coming from his mouth as his lungs tried to work around the blade. Richard smiled as Douglas looked up at him, his mouth moving as he tried to speak. Richard shushed him as a parent would shush a small child.
“No need to speak. Master.” The man jeered the last word as the blade turned sideways. Douglas’s body jerked with the motion, then jerked again as Richard yanked the blade out and slammed the old man’s head down on the desk. He smiled at Tabitha, looking from her to Kane, then back again.
“Richard,” Gentry said as another explosion sounded off outside. Kane spun and looked at him. Gentry’s eyes were on Kane, his grin sinister, his amulet in his hand. “Mr. Shepherd seems hungry. Do offer him a taste of what he desires.”
Richard nodded, yanked Tabitha up by the arm. Gentry snapped his fingers. Two Special Forces troops charged into the room, quiet behind their goggled masks, their blunderbusses in their hands. They set them aside, each taking one of Kane’s arms and holding him in place as Richard dragged Tabitha toward Kane. Kane fought against the soldiers, but the two men held firm, their grips tight and their feet planted. One of them kicked Kane behind the knee, forced him down to the floor on his knees as Richard did the same to Tabitha. She was close enough to Kane to reach him, her eyes wide in fear as Richard held her hand out, his closed around her wrist. The blade moved quickly, the flash of light, another cry from Tabitha as blood poured from the deep cut in her palm. Kane tried to move, to break free and stop Richard from cutting her, but the Wendigo held tight to his spine. Kane licked his lips, the smell of Tabitha’s blood intoxicating. His stomach churned in hunger, his breathing racing as his entire body began to tingle with desire. The urge to take her.
The urge to feed.
Gentry nodded.
“Make haste, Richard. We’re pressed for time.”
Richard thrust Tabitha’s hand at Kane, smacked his face with her palm. The blood was warm, sweet across his lips and tongue. He yanked his arms away from the soldiers, grabbed her hand, buried his mouth into her palm and hungrily sucked. The warmth splashed into his mouth and down his throat, coppery and hot like fire. She shouted, tried to pull away, but he held fast, pulling more in, taking her life into his mouth. Tabitha cried out again, struggled against him as he pulled her back, her efforts causing more blood to flow from her hand.
Kane’s head snapped back, his hand releasing Tabitha’s as she reared back to kick his face again. He fell backward, body rigid, his joints and muscles locked.
; Gentry. Where was Gentry? Richard?
One of the soldiers shouted to the other, his voice muddy as if under water. Kane’s face hurt from where Tabitha had kicked him, his head spinning as if he was drunk.
“They left us!”
“Bastards! Move out! Now!”
Cannon balls ripped through the house. One of the soldiers was knocked to his back, his head missing. The other went airborne, parts of him flying in different directions.
Kane got to his hands and knees, looked up as Tabitha scrambled backward, stopping with her back to Douglas’s desk, her body trembling as she watched Kane, flinched when he moved toward her.
More. He needed more. The blood wasn’t enough. Flesh.
Meat.
Kane could hear screaming, his throat hurting from making the sound as his skin seemed to set fire. He felt the Wendigo claw at him. Bone shifted, breaking out of joint and socket, ramming back into place. His face stretched, his cheekbones breaking as his nose and mouth moved outward, his lips pulling back over long, chipped and broken teeth. His eyes opened, the world bathed in red as he stood. He held up his hands, long claws tearing out through his fingers. The hands came at him, clutched at his chest, ripping at flesh as his legs grew longer, more powerful. Hooves burst through his boots as his feet elongated, grew into upright animal legs. His skull split, the pain faint as his body numbed. He reached up with clawed hands, felt the two antlers protruding from his head.
The Wendigo dropped its hands, its eyes glowing like coals as it watched the Tabitha grab her shiny jump through the shattered opening and sprint off into the night. It ran its tongue over broken, jagged teeth, touching rotted and torn lips with the tip, one instinct, a desire thrumming in its mind.
Feed. Feed.
The Wendigo stepped through the opening and out into the dark, breathing in the night air as the full moon above shone a deep red, the landscape a dark reddish hue. It stretched to its full height, held its arms out as it howled into the night sky, the sound accompanied by shouts of men from the leviathan on the other side of the domicile.
The demon sped into the night, the smell of the Tabitha’s blood and musk heavy in the air. Sweat. Panic.
Gaslit Armageddon (Clockworks of War Book 2) Page 22