Scryer's Gulch

by MeiLin Miranda

  "Boys, come here!" called Bonham. "It's okay, Mamzelle's corralled." Three men carrying rifles crept out one by one from under the far-flung cover of rocks and equipment. "Were you expecting me to give you trouble, Mr Bonham?" said Annabelle.

  "I'm alive because I expect trouble," he answered, "though I do confess I did not expect it from your particular corner."

  Annabelle pushed back her duster to display small pistols slung low on her hips; the man to her far right whistled. "Them's etherics! You know how to use 'em, lady?"

  "I suggest you not try to find out," she answered.

  "Whut about thet there…critter?" the one to Annabelle's left said, pointing at Misi.

  "I do believe the furry fellow is under the unlikely control of little Miss Duniway here," said Bonham.

  "I do believe I am," growled Misi, "and I do believe I'll gut anyone who makes a move for his gun."

  "You can't kill all three at once, demon," said Bonham.

  "Oh, by all means, kill Annie. Set me free. I can't reach all three of your men in time, true, but once she's dead it doesn't matter, does it? I can take my time and kill all of you as I please. Once you're dead, then Mamzelle's free--"

  "--And then will have a reckoning, traître," said Mamzelle.

  "--Once Mamzelle's free," continued Misi, "she will undoubtedly slaughter everyone else in town, including your son Tony and your little girl Lily. And I won't be able to do much about it, assuming I'd want to at that point."

  Bonham paled. "You'd threaten Lily?"

  "We're not threatening anyone, Mr Bonham," said Annabelle. "We're telling you to call off your men before they do something untoward. I could shoot you right now and take Mamzelle away from you that way, if I really wanted to. I could have shot you ages ago. But killing you's not what's best for Lily either, is it?"

  "You couldn't hit the broadside of a barn with those pea-shooters! Who'd you steal those from, a circus midget?" said Bonham, some of the color returning to his face.

  "Trust me, she can hit anything she chooses to, and it'll never hit back," came the firm voice of John Runnels. "Evening, Miss Duniway, thought you might need a little help."

  Annabelle never took her eyes off Bonham; she felt more than saw that John had his shotgun. "Thank you, Sheriff, but I have this situation in hand."

  "I don't doubt it, but I'll feel a little less like shooting fellows if they put their guns down right now," said Runnels. The three riflemen complied, heaping their weapons at the sheriff's feet while staying as far away from Misi as possible.

  "Now, scat!" said the cat-man. All three took off running.

  "So now you're armed, Runnels is armed, the demon is a demon--and I'm just sitting here like a clay pigeon, is how I picture it," said Bonham.

  "How I picture it is you and I see who's the stronger wielder," said Annabelle.

  "Put those pistols down and we shall do that very thing."

  "If you were me, would you put them down?"

  Bonham laughed, a good-natured sound in spite of the tension. "You are something, Miss Duniway. What, I don't know, but I intend to live long enough to find out. To answer your question, no, I wouldn't. Very well, you've behaved honorably so far. Keep 'em. Now, let's get to it."

  Annabelle nodded. She gathered her will around her and cleared her mind of everything but Bonham--just what he'd wanted, but in the worst possible way, came a stray thought quickly pushed from her head.

  A few yards away, a stinging flared on John's chest. He'd put Annabelle's detector bracelet on a thong down inside his shirt; it had given him little prickles as he'd walked about town, strongest down by the assayer's and by Simon Prake's office as expected but surprisingly quiet out here by the BB. "Miss Duniway, he's got something on him. Something hermatauxite-powered."

  "How do you know?" frowned Bonham.

  "Better than a guess. What is it, Bonham? Something to boost your juice?"

  "I wish my watch'd boost my juice, but no. I'll turn out my pockets if she puts down the pistols."

  "Very well," said Annabelle. She unbuckled her gunbelt and handed it to Misi. "He can't use them, so feel secure."

  "Oh yes, I am very reassured, ma'am," sneered Bonham, who nevertheless took off his coat and laid it aside a few feet away. He turned out his pockets under John's watchful, armed eye until he came to the last, his watch pocket. "Here," he said, retrieving the watch.

  John took the ornate, heavy gold timepiece in his hand; the detector on his chest went wild. "It's a strong signal," he winced.

  "Where did you get the hermetauxite for that watch, Mr Bonham, and when?" asked Annabelle.

  Bonham looked at her in surprise. "Just this morning, from Mr Prake the younger. Tony said he did a fine job on his own watch not long ago. Why? What is it?"

  "I'm not entirely sure yet," she said, "but I may tell you it's not good."

  Bonham narrowed his eyes at her. "What are you, Annabelle Duniway? Is that even your name?"

  "I assure you it is, and what I am I may have to tell you now, though I hadn't intended to. But we have more pressing business at hand, and that is ownership of Mamzelle. Shall we get down to it?"

  Bonham nodded and took his position facing Annabelle, opposite the sigil containing Mamzelle.

  Episode 52: The Devil You Know

  Sheriff Runnels stood back a ways from the sigil and did his best to stay alert, scoping the area for potential threats--more of Bonham's goons--but it was hard to keep from doing anything other than stare at Annabelle and Bonham, though he couldn't have said why; they were doing nothing but facing one another across Mamzelle.

  A hand touched his arm, and he jumped, jerking his shotgun around. "Settle down, Sheriff, it's just me," said the demon cat-man.

  "Yeah, well you take some getting used to," John grunted, turning back to the two wielders. "She planning on telling me about you any time soon?"

  "I was her ace in the hole. It wasn't time to play me yet."

  John shifted his weight from side to side. "You can't help her out here, can you?"

  "Nope."

  "Some ace."

  "Watch it, friend. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

  "Oh, I have a better idea than you might think." They lapsed into silence again until the air filled with an energy that set the hair on his neck and arms straight up. He glanced at the cat demon; his fur stood out in a halo around his body. "So what exactly is happening?" said John. "I mean, I can ascertain…something in the air, but I don't know what it is, and I can't see anything."

  "I can. It's like clouds of power pouring out of them both--it glows. Pity you can't see it, it's really rather pretty." Misi shook out his crackling mane. "Anyway, it's like this. A wielding duel is a contest of wills. Basically, they both pull at Mamzelle, until one of them gives. Like a tug of war with a rope. One of them'll get dragged over, and the prize'll go to the one left standing. It all depends on which one can focus that cloud of energy the best. I feel sorry for Mamzelle--this has gotta hurt. She's a tough cookie, but that Bonham's put her through enough to break anyone."

  "I find it hard to feel sorry for something that's killing innocent people."

  "You been down to the mining camp? Those guys aren't innocent."

  "You understand my meaning, demon."

  Misi muttered something under his breath. "This may come down to Mamzelle."

  "Mamzelle? What can she do?"

  "Lean to one side or the other, make it easier for one of 'em and harder for the other--sorta choose who she wants to go with. If they're evenly matched, it might decide things."

  "I should think she'd want to go with Miss Duniway."

  "She doesn't want to go with either of them, and besides, she doesn't know Annie. Sometimes you choose the devil you know."

  Annabelle chewed at her lip. Binding a demon was one thing; they never wanted to be bound and fought hard. She'd been through that twice before and won. But this was fighting both the demon and another wielder, a man much stronge
r than she'd anticipated. In the end, she thought she was superior unless he was holding back a bigger reserve than she was. She'd given it almost everything she had already.

  Sweat was pooling on her body, chilling her in the cold air. Bonham's face shone worse than hers, though, and had turned ruddy. He was breathing harder than she was, too. It might just be an endurance match.

  But Mamzelle was fighting her. The demon was fighting Bonham, too, but less resolutely. Realization dawned: Mamzelle was afraid of her, more afraid of her than of Bonham. She had no way of persuading Mamzelle with words. She could talk or she could wield; she couldn't do both. The only way she could get through to the demon was in changing her fighting tactics. She switched from focusing on Bonham to focusing on Mamzelle.

  Bonham let out a surprised, triumphant gasp; his pull on Mamzelle increased as Annabelle's slackened, but Annabelle held Mamzelle in place, never letting him gain an inch. She poured concern over the battered demon, as healing a balm as she could muster--a coaxing, persuasive, reassuring energy filled with unworded promises. Mamzelle's energy wavered, then redoubled its resistance.

  Still Annabelle focused on her, sending wave after wave of energy. She thought of Misi, the bond between them, how much she truly loved him, and how much she knew he loved her. She thought of Espinisollo, the first demon she caught when she was twelve--Sollo, so old and wise, who she missed every day even though she'd let him go when she turned fifteen and their work together was over.

  Mamzelle's energy perked up as Annabelle thought about Sollo. Why? What was it about her emotions around her time with Sollo that interested Mamzelle? If Annabelle could figure it out, it might be enough to tip the scales. She sorted through them all, ignoring Bonham's increasingly desperate pulling, trying each emotion one by one, until she hit on it.

  Justice. She and Sollo had found justice together.

  Episode 53: Justice

  Justice.

  The clear, triumphant pealing bell of the word swept over Mamzelle. Justice. What she wouldn't give for justice! Her tired and battered spirit leaned toward the blond woman.

  But no--revenge. She wanted revenge, not justice! Bonham was the lesser of the two, and foolish at least in magical matters. She might still find her loophole, find a way to kill him, were he her master. Mamzelle would never find a way out as Duniway's servant; if the woman wanted to keep her bound, she would stay bound. Mamzelle had no doubt of it. She leaned toward her old master; he redoubled his psychic grip, and if a spirit could snarl and spit, his did so.

  So close. Mamzelle had been so close to being rid of Jed Bonham, so close to freedom. If only Misi hadn't betrayed her. Bonham would return her to the Palace. He would shackle her further. At the least he would end her little hunting forays, but that was nothing. He'd made her do disgusting things before this. It would be worse now. Perhaps he might take one of her eyes, as he'd always threatened to. An eye took a long time to grow back, and the pain would be immense.

  Despair overwhelmed her, until Duniway's call came once more through the ether, so strongly she felt actual words: Justice, Mamzelle! I would bring you justice.

  Mamzelle opened her leaden eyes. Duniway still stood before her, panting now but not winded. The woman reached out her hands; they beamed peace, hope and justice. Mamzelle let out a whimper like a beaten dog, gathered her courage, and let her spirit jump.

  Annabelle let her hands drop to her side. "Vi rilascio, Daemonis," she said, ending the sigil's protective charm; Mamzelle was hers now and she had nothing to fear. Mamzelle stood up, shaky on her feet and wings trembling. Misi rushed to support her, and the once-proud demon leaned on the furry half-man.

  Jed Bonham let out a roar. He clenched his fists, his face ruddy with anger and effort; his eyes started from his head. "Damn you, Annabelle Duniway, damn you by any god and none! How dare you, you little bitch?" He took three angry steps toward the smaller woman.

  "She won, Bonham, fair and square. She's a better wielder than you are--than anyone in these parts, if I don't miss my bet," said John Runnels, shifting the shotgun in his hands.

  Bonham halted, brought up short by the two demons between him and Annabelle as much as by the shotgun. "If I don't miss my bet I will end you, Annabelle Duniway, one way or another," he snarled. "I ask again: What are you?"

  Annabelle reached her etheric pistols and buckled them back on her hips. "I am a little bitch. Best watch my teeth."

  "I've got more than teeth, and I've got her back," said Misi. "C'mon, Mamzelle, let's get you settled." He walked the demon over to a rock and sat her down.

  "You won't always be there, demon," said Bonham. "They don't send wielders like you to teach school, Miss Duniway. I had you pegged for a fortune hunter, but not this kind. Maybe you're a Brinkie girl?"

  "What I am is not your concern yet, but I assure you I'm not with Brinkerton and I'm fairly certain your fortune is not in play."

  "What happens now?" said Mamzelle when she'd recovered her breath. "What do you intend to do with me, 'schoolteacher?'"

  "For the time being, you are to take the form of a beetle and sit quietly in my pocket." Mamzelle made a face, but obediently shrank herself into an iridescent beetle about the size of Annabelle's thumb. She flew to Annabelle and crawled into the pocket of her duster. "Back to a kitty, Misi. Stay hidden but close by, and if anyone tries to pull anything you know what to do." Misi transformed into his usual big black tomcat form and bounded over the rocks.

  "Do you expect me to keep this a secret, missy?" said Bonham.

  "I do, and here's why: You won't want anyone to know a little blond snip of a girl like me took Mamzelle away from you, and you won't want your enemies to know you've lost your greatest weapon."

  Unwilling acknowledgment crossed the man's face. "And how do I explain Mamzelle's absence?"

  "Anyone who asks, tell them she's out on a job for you. No one will question it."

  "They will if she's gone for good."

  "Maybe she won't be," said Annabelle. A desperate flutter began in her pocket. "Don't worry, Mamzelle. I won't put you back the way you were, at least not entirely. I have several ideas, but now's not the time to talk them over."

  "When will it be time?" said Bonham.

  "When I say it is. And right now, I say it's time for supper. Go on home to Mrs Bonham, and give Lily a big hug from me." Annabelle rolled one shoulder--unladylike, but she ached all over and was having a hard time staying on her feet. "Whether you like it or not, Mr Bonham, I saved her life and yours today. Go home."

  "G'wan," John growled, and Bonham reluctantly left the field, limping and stiff himself.

  As soon as he was gone, Annabelle swayed. John slung his shotgun over one shoulder and rushed to catch her elbow. "Are you all right? Are you hurt? I couldn't see what was going on, but Misi said it was quite the light show. Do you need help home?"

  "I could certainly use your arm, Sheriff," she said, "but I'm not hurt. Just very, very tired and very, very hungry. Let's see what Ralph's made for supper, shall we?"

  They staggered toward town.

  * * *

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