by M. Walsh
Reunited with his pistol, Krutch had considered heading straight for the western gate. However, he realized, although he could bluff with it, a pistol with no shells had little use. He then recalled he wasn’t far from the Tombs and guessed if he was going to find shells anywhere that would be the place.
He limped to the few intact crates that were left. He knew Dune and the Wraiths raided the weapons, but hoped that only meant the swords, spears, and armor. The first two he pried open were packed with black powder, making him appreciate that one-eyed Goblin’s panic when he saw the pistol.
He worried he was wasting his time, when he opened up one more, and after brushing aside some sawdust, found it was filled with dozens of smaller boxes that clinked when he moved them. Opening one of them up, his eyes widened when he found it was lined with a dozen small cartridges.
The shells slid into the chamber easily enough, but he remembered the duds he got on Tramp Road. Aiming the newly loaded weapon at the opposite wall, he clicked the hammer back and squeezed the trigger.
The gunshot was deafening and echoed through the storehouse. A spot on the wall popped into pebbles and left a smoking hole. As the echo faded away, the familiar smell of black powder wafted in the air.
It had been so long since he fired his weapon, he forgot how hard the recoil hit, and he hurt his wrist. But that didn’t matter. The crate was filled with more boxes of shells, and he started packing them in his pockets. For the first time in months, he didn’t feel like he had a permanent target on his back.
“Very impressive, Mr. Leeroy.”
On instinct, Krutch pointed the gun toward the voice and found Jonathon Gash standing across the room. Tetra Serk was beside him, and several armed guards were spreading out around the storehouse.
“But I’ll think I’ll be taking that now.”
Serk and Gash’s men were sweating, disheveled, and looked like they’d been through a war. Gash himself looked fine. He was sweating, too, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone, but he otherwise seemed unaffected by the riot.
He limped forward, leaning on his cane, and looked smug. “I find myself at a loss, to be honest,” he said. “On the one hand, you’ve managed to make a complete mess of everything. On the other, your actions have brought about Sebastian Clock’s death and allowed me a chance to take control of this city.”
“Congratulations,” said Krutch. “You’ve become the captain of a burning ship.”
“This will pass,” Gash replied, waving his hand. “I may not have the Gauntlet, but with your weapon I can accomplish what Clock only dreamed. Hand it over and I might allow you to leave Seba alive.”
“Even if I believed you,” he said, “which I don’t, what makes you think I’m going to give it up?”
“Don’t be a fool, Leeroy,” said Gash. “You’re outnumbered, and I know that thing can only fire six shots at most.”
“I only need one, Gajh,” he said, clicking back the hammer and aiming at him. “Your boys might rush me, but I promise Arkady is faster than them.”
“Who..?”
“My gun. I named it. Arkady—after my friend.”
“Oh,” said Gash. “Cute.” He cleared his throat. “Listen, we can make a deal. There’s no need for this to be any more unpleasant than it already is.”
“Oh, why stop now, Gajh?”
Gash frowned. “What did you call me?”
“Your name,” said Krutch. “Gajh.”
Gash’s frown turned into a grimace.
“Yeah, I talked to your brother. He told me about you.”
“You shut your damn mouth!” Gash snarled. “Kill him! All of you! Kill him now!”
The guards surrounding Krutch hesitated—none eager to be the first to attack a man with a loaded pistol.
“What are you waiting for?! Kill him! I command it!”
“No one’s doing a damn thing!”
All eyes turned to the other end of the storehouse where over a dozen Goblins appeared, armed and dressed for battle.
Vel-Etta had arrived.
57
The carnival was silent as the grave. The moon was hidden behind thick clouds, and mists of fog rolled throughout the fairground like gliding spirits. All lights were out—the rides shut up and closed with no sign of life.
But Lily sensed the reavers. All had returned from Madoc, and they’d gathered together, hidden in the shadows of their traveling carnival. They existed as a hive—pooling their energy and power to maintain their glamour. It also gave them a mental link. They knew what she did to Ashe. She knew they were expecting her.
But Lily was no stranger to the shadows either. She was meant to be an assassin, and she was an experienced hunter. She knew how to lurk unseen, watch her prey, and wait for the right time to strike. She knew the people in town would wait and hide—sleeping uneasily and sensing without knowing to stay away. One way or another, this would be over by dawn.
She kept to the edge of the carnival, making quick stops at various booths, rides, and trailers. If they knew where she was, they would assume she was stalking the perimeter or trying to find a way in. She wanted them to think this.
With everything set up, she drew her daggers and entered through the front. As she walked through the darkened carnival, she felt the reavers watching her. She felt their anger—outraged at her audacity, offended by her presence, and insulted by her presumption. It was as she always expected her kind to regard her if they knew how she felt in her heart.
The reavers closed in. They were just out of sight, hidden in the fog and shadows, but she knew they were surrounding her. They were eager. They would kill her slow, drain away what life and energy she possessed, and when there was nothing left but a dried up, shriveled excuse of a succubus, they would rip her to pieces and burn whatever remained.
Still … she had to try.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” she called out. “We don’t have to be like this. We don’t have to be monsters.”
She heard hissing and giggling. None spoke, but she knew they thought her a fool and traitor.
“There has to be a way we can survive without killing,” she continued. “We can help each other. We can find a way.”
She felt the Black stir with a chill. They weren’t listening. Even if they were capable of change, they wouldn’t. They emerged from the shadows all around her. They looked human on the outside, but she knew what they were. They—like all creatures of the Black—were the things of nightmares. Inhuman monsters waiting for the right time to snatch the poor and unsuspecting. And they thought Lily Blackthorn would be no different.
She was pleased to prove them wrong.
Madoc’s primary trade was lumber and fur. But as Big Jim Wallace boasted, they were expanding into mining the nearby mountains. And that meant black powder. Before making her return to the reavers’ carnival, Lily made a quick stop.
The first fire was in the back, near one of the rides. It started small, but once it got going, a blaze lit up the fairground. The second fire started near the front. Lily hadn’t planned on any kind of order for the fires, but the randomness helped her.
With the carnival glowing orange and yellow, the reavers stood revealed in the open. Somewhere nearby, one of the caravans burst into flame and three poured out, screeching. The ones surrounding her looked on in shock.
Lily greeted them with quick slashes to their heads, and they fell to the ground at her feet. With that, hell was unleashed.
The reavers were thrown into confusion and horror. Despite the hive mind of the tribe, they didn’t think to coordinate themselves. Most that weren’t caught in the burning busied themselves trying to put the fires out. Others tried to attack Lily. In the end, they all were easy pickings for her.
As she cut her way through them, she could see why they were not held in high regard in the Dark Lands. These creatures were no doubt deadly in certain conditions—when they controlled the scene and allowed to utilize their glamour to lull in
victims. But they were poor fighters and easily thrown into chaos. Lily alone, a succubus-orc hybrid armed with a pair of daggers and well placed fires, was able to tear them to shreds single-handed.
The carnival was in a full blaze within minutes. Most of the reavers were dead. Those that weren’t were burning. If a few managed to escape, they wouldn’t last long alone—they needed to exist in a tribe. Lily was on her way out, when she found Clara Shade standing between her and the gate.
“I should’ve killed you when I had the chance,” said Shade.
“Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve,” she replied.
With a hiss, Shade charged with shocking speed and struck her square in the chest. Lily was thrown back with the wind knocked from her. She tried to spring back to her feet, but was too surprised by the speed and force of the attack.
She looked up to find Shade already gone—only to feel a terrible grip snatch her by the back of the neck. She was lifted into the air and slammed down, face first. The smell of grass and dirt filled her nose, and she was hurled through the air again—crashing into one of the wooden booths.
Dazed, Lily tried to stand, but crumbled to the ground. Shade approached her, her pointed face locked in a horrible scowl. “Did you think I would fall as easily as my brothers and sisters?” she said. “Dust and I were the leaders of this tribe. The head reavers are always the most powerful.”
She snatched Lily by her hair, lifted her up, and gave a sharp jab to her throat. Lily gasped and was thrown again.
“But I don’t suppose you’d know that,” she continued. “Our fellow demons have always looked down on us—deemed us unworthy and beneath notice.”
She charged again, and Lily was overwhelmed with slashing claws at her legs, back, and face. It was as if the pooled energy the reavers lived on was focused into Shade alone, making her more powerful than Lily could’ve anticipated. A knee to her stomach hunched her over, and Shade finished the assault by snuffing her face into the ground.
“What do you think you are?” Shade hissed, rubbing her face in the dirt. She struggled to breathe and push herself up, but the reaver’s grip was too tight. “What kind of demon tries to protect humans? Do you really think you can be one of them? Do you think you are human?” Gripping her hair, Shade lifted Lily up and screamed in her face. “You’re not even a traitor! You’re a freak! A defective freak and abomination!”
Shade spit in her face and head-butted her. She attempted to stomp her heel into Lily’s throat, but Lily rolled away and got to her feet. She stumbled backward, dazed, and her vision blurred. The fire was blazing around them—the heat was almost overwhelming and smoke filled the air.
“Digusting!” Shade said. “You think this changes anything? You think this makes you ‘good’ you piece of trash?!”
“This isn’t about good or evil,” she said, trying to regain her senses. “This is about what’s right.”
The reaver charged again, and though Lily attempted to defend herself, Shade was too fast. She clawed at her back and jabbed at her kidney. Lily threw a punch Shade dodged, snatched her by the throat, and snuffed her into the dirt once again.
Shade looked at her with contempt and disgust. She knelt down, pressing her knee against Lily’s chest to pin her, and held her hand up. Hooked claws grew from her fingers.
Lily could almost see the demon beneath Shade’s human disguise—a wretched creature with yellow, translucent skin, black eyes, and a horrific scowl—like some devilish witch from a fairy tale.
“As much as I’d love to continue this, I must be on my way,” said Shade. “Until I find a new tribe, I’ll have to indulge even more than I prefer to in order to maintain my power. Since you, for some reason, are so protective of the humans, I want you to think about how many will have to die now because you took my tribe from me.”
Shade thrust her clawed hand down, aiming to tear out Lily’s heart. At the last moment, Lily grabbed her wrist and stopped her. Shade grimaced and pressed harder—her claws sinking into her chest.
Lily hissed, and her eyes glowed. Her grip on Shade’s wrist tightened, and Shade cringed as the bones cracked. The combination of pain and threats stirred her to tap into the Black, and with a guttural growl, she threw the reaver off.
Like Ashe back in town, Shade flipped to her feet and crouched down. Her eyes turned solid black, and her flesh turned to a shade of yellow closer to her true form. Lily’s skin faded to dull gray and claws grew from her hand.
The two demon women circled each other, hissing and growling like wolves about to battle.
“You can’t fight what you are, freak,” Shade said. “You’re a demon, like the rest of us. You have to feed on the living, as we do. You can’t change that.”
“You’re right. I’m no better than you,” Lily replied. “But I’m trying to be.”
They charged and tore into one another like two wild animals. Letting her demonic instincts take over, Lily kept up with Shade’s great speed, and used her orc strength to overpower the reaver.
She caught Shade’s right leg and drove her elbow into the knee, breaking it with a loud crunch. Shade’s pained howls were cut off by Lily grabbing her by the throat and slamming her into the ground. Pinned down, the reaver slapped and clawed, but she responded by breaking one of her arms.
In her panic and rage, the last of Shade’s human form faded away, and Lily saw the twisted monster for what she really was. The sounds choked out of her mouth were shrill and inhuman. Shade might have been saying words or curses, but she barely heard it. She sensed the power Shade kept stored within her and felt hunger overtake her.
She clamped her fangs over Shade’s mouth and drained away the reaver’s essence. Shade struggled beneath her, but to no avail as her body shriveled. When it was done, she looked like a skeleton wrapped in wrinkled, leathery flesh. There was no strength in her, but her black eyes were alive with hate and fury. If she could, she would continue to fight Lily even then.
With one last hiss, Lily plunged her claws into Shade’s face and tore the reaver’s skull out. She held the malformed thing above her head and let rip a triumphant roar before snapping back to reality.
Crawling away from the melting remains of Clara Shade, Lily writhed on the ground, hissing and moaning as she struggled to push away the Black and regain control of herself. It was harder and more painful than usual—having taken the essence of another creature of the Black—but she returned to her normal self.
Lily escaped into the woods near Madoc to rest and recover. Behind her, the Dust & Shade Traveling Carnival burned to cinder with the dying howls of its demon owners fading into the night.
The people of Madoc slept easier and awoke the following morning with a relief they didn’t understand, as if a strange and quickly forgotten nightmare had passed.
58
Vel-Etta stood before his Goblins—all armed and ready to fight. At the other end of the storeroom, Gash’s guards and Tetra Serk drew their weapons and gathered around their master. In the middle, Krutch Leeroy stood with his pistol and a crate filled with shells.
“I hoped I’d get a chance to run into you again, Leeroy,” said Vel, rubbing his jaw. “I owe you one.”
Krutch snorted. After getting arrested, stabbed and beaten up by Clock’s bodyguard, then attacked by Harrison Elliot, Audra Fay, and Eren Lucas—and maybe more he’d forgotten—being owed a smack in the mouth seemed like small potatoes.
“The man laughs at death,” said Vel. “You’ve brass, Leeroy, I’ll give you that.”
“Death..?” he repeated. “All I did was crack you in the jaw. You’re going to kill me over that?”
“No,” said the Goblin. “You insulted my people with your antics here. Goblin honor is not someth—”
He was cut off by a flash of light and the sound of thunder as the pistol fired. The floor at his feet erupted to pebbles, and the Goblin Chief jumped back a step. Everyone in the storeroom flinched and held their weapons up, primed to attack.
Vel and the Goblins hissed and growled. He saw they each wanted to tear him apart, but like Gash’s men, none were eager to make the first move.
He was about to continue, when Gash called out, “Vel-Etta!”
The deformed Graigman limped forward. His stretched skin was shiny with sweat, and although he spoke to the Goblin, his beady eyes were on Krutch.
“Let’s make a deal,” he said. “Clock is gone. You and I can work someth—”
“Oh, ho!” Krutch interrupted. “Look who’s trying to be buddy-buddy with the Goblins now!”
“Vel,” Gash continued, ignoring him. “We outnumber Leeroy. He can’t use that thing on us all. If you—”
“And are you going to tell your new pals who you really are, Gajh?”
“Leeroy, shut-up!”
“How about what you were going to do with Roderick Bane’s Gauntlet?”
This caught Vel’s attention. “What was that?” he said, stepping forward. “What’s that about Roderick Bane?”
Gash’s face turned red and contorted into a grimace of fear and anger. Before he could speak, Krutch said, “Yeah, ol’ Gajh here was trying to get ahold of Bane’s Gauntlet so he could overthrow Clock. How do you figure you guys fit into that plan?”
Goblins, when angered, didn’t turn red, but a darker shade of green. Vel-Etta, at the moment, looked as dark as a forest. He gritted his teeth, and his yellow eyes burned with fury.
“When Roderick Bane still lived,” Vel said. His voice was low, but fuming. “He used his magic to make slaves of my people.”
Krutch raised his eyebrows and turned to Gash. The Graigman’s face was a strained mask of terror.
“You could never stand against Clock, Gash,” Vel continued. “Not while he was allied with us. If what Leeroy says is true, then you could only have wanted Bane’s Gauntlet to enslave us.”
“He lies!” Gash shouted. “Don’t you see what he’s doing? The city is ours, Vel! His only hope is turning us against each other! You must trust me!”