Riders on the Storm

by Rob Blackwell

  “No,” he said weakly—and also unconvincingly.

  “Who else knows?” she asked.

  “No one.”

  “There’s no way I can stop what’s coming, Graves,” Jules said. “If you want to take your secrets to your, uh, grave, then I can’t stop you. But if you want revenge on these sons of bitches, it might behoove you to share a little.”

  His eyes narrowed and he glared at her. She had the feeling he was sizing her up again.

  “After the train job, I checked around,” he said. “You had a good reputation, but…”

  He trailed off, not bothering to finish. It was all right. She knew what he was going to say.

  “But I was a woman and you didn’t think I was the ‘man’ for the job,” she said. There was no bitterness in what she said. It was the way of the world.

  “I shopped around, looking for another one who might be willing to do the job, someone with a little more experience,” Graves said. “I found one. And it turned out he already had one of the keys. Or claimed to. I didn’t realize you’d stolen it from him.”

  Jules closed her eyes. Rezzor. A whole number of things fell into place for her now. How Rezzor had the resources to hire so many men, why he’d been looking for the silver, and why he’d been so desperate to get the key back.

  Moreover, she realized she’d missed important clues. The brothers at the bank—Seth and Jacob—hadn’t been there accidentally, as she’d assumed. They’d been hired by Rezzor to rob that bank. They were probably supposed to steal the remaining key and return it to Rezzor.

  “Damnation,” Jules swore. “You’re an idiot, Graves.”

  But the fact remained that Rezzor was now dead. She’d seen the Vipers grab him. So it wasn’t him who came back to town and shot Garrett.

  “What happened here? Why did they betray you?”

  “I thought we were headed out. Duggett’s partner—Jacob, I think his name was—came to town looking a little the worse for wear. He had someone else with him too, short man with a funny nose.”

  Gilroy. Jules thought of the way Rezzor had said Gilroy was “on an errand.” He’d looked pleased with himself when he said it and now she knew why.

  “The three of them approached me and said their boss wanted us to meet closer to the Maelstrom,” he said. “They demanded to see the map I was carrying to ensure I wasn’t leading them along.

  “The second I showed it to them, Duggett shot me. I don’t know”—Graves broke off his story to cough some more—“if that was the plan or his improvisation, but afterward, the three of them and their men decided to rob the bank on the way out, causing a ruckus.”

  “How many men does he have?”

  “Dozen or so,” Graves said.

  Jules banged her hand against the door.

  “What a fool you were,” she said.

  She tried to think through their plan. They must have arranged a meeting point with Rezzor for later, when he was supposed to arrive with a supply of silver bullets. But what would happen when Rezzor didn’t show up? Would Duggett, Jacob and Gilroy keep going without them?

  “I gather they took the map,” she said.

  Graves met her eyes.

  “That’s not all they have, I’m afraid.”

  Jules opened her mouth to ask what he was talking about—and realized she already knew.

  “Miranda!” she yelled.

  Miranda came running into the room, her eyes registering shock when she saw Graves.

  “Go to the hideout, see if anyone’s been there,” she said.

  Miranda didn’t argue, just quickly left the room. Graves started coughing again.

  “She’ll find it empty,” Graves said. “They had all the keys.”

  Graves was a dying man, but Jules wanted to shoot him all the same. She’d been set up, and the extent of her loss was only now becoming clear.

  Gilroy. She could have howled in frustration. That was why Rezzor had sent him. Of all the people in her father’s gang, he was the sneakiest. He’d probably pieced together where Jules’ hideout was some time ago, but she’d never thought to worry about him. Her contempt of him had made Gilroy beneath her concern. And now she was paying the price for that oversight.

  “Did they have anything else with them? Some other weapon?”

  Graves shook his head. “I don’t know.” He collapsed in another fit of coughing. “I bet on the wrong horse, didn’t I?” His face was haggard and drawn.

  “You did,” Jules replied. “I would have gotten that vase out of there for you.”

  Graves nodded, and seemed to slump a little farther against the bed.

  The question was what would happen now? Rezzor wasn’t coming with silver bullets and reinforcements. Would Duggett and Jacob continue on? Or would they ride off? She didn’t know either man well enough to predict their actions.

  But if they did decide to go to the Maelstrom, she had no illusions what would happen if they happened across her father. They weren’t there to rescue him. He’d be killed on the spot.

  She pounded her fist into the door again. She’d come so far, only to be outwitted by three idiots. Her father would never have made the same mistakes.

  “Is there anyone else who has a map?” Jules asked.

  But Graves didn’t answer. When she looked back at him, she found his eyes were glassy and staring off into nothingness.

  Graves was dead.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Sometime in the spring of 1883, the U.S. government launched at least two forays into the Maelstrom. The first scouting party promptly disappeared. The second group survived long enough to send a message back. It read: ‘More Vipers than previously reported. Have camped on the northern edge of Maelstrom and witnessed several storms headed out in multiple directions. All contained the creatures. They return days later with even more in their midst. Each day the storms leave in new directions. They appear systematic in spreading out. The ultimate intent of what they are doing is unclear.’”

  —Terry Jacobsen, “A History of the Supernatural,” 2013

  Jules found the whiskey in Rita’s bar and sat downstairs drinking. Will pointedly refused to take even a sip, which was fine. It meant more for her.

  Miranda came running up a few moments later, confirming their worst fears. Someone had raided their equipment. There were no keys and no map.

  Her only option now was to ride after Duggett, Jacob and Gilroy. They were at best only a couple hours ahead of her, likely less given their decision to rob the bank.

  But it would be hard to overtake them, and even assuming she did, she would be badly outnumbered. Worse, if she ran after them now, she wouldn’t have time for Hubert to smelt the silver she had stolen to make bullets. She could always come back, but she didn’t like her odds. Everything about her mission felt doomed.

  Jules refilled her drink and put her feet up on one of the tables.

  “What are we going to do?” Miranda asked, her hands on her hips and a disapproving expression on her face.

  “Well, I was strongly considering getting drunk,” Jules replied, downing the contents of the glass in a single gulp. It burned as it went down.

  A shadow darkened the doorway.

  “You’re paying for that,” Rita said, walking in. Several of her girls filed in behind her.

  Jules dug into her pockets and threw a stolen gold coin at Rita, who caught it in mid-air. Jules gave an impressed whistle.

  “I take it they’ve gone?” Rita asked.

  “Same ones that were beating up on Alice earlier, I believe,” Jules said.

  The prostitute in question stood behind Rita, her face still bruised from where Duggett had hit her.

  Rita nodded. “I had the girls leave as soon as I saw them coming,” she said. “Sheriff had ordered them out of town, but that Duggett character came back with more men and a bad attitude. He had one of Rezzor’s gang with him.”

  “Gilroy,” Jules said.

  “That’s th
e one,” Rita replied. “Nasty bugger, him. Ugly enough that we charged him more. Where’s the sheriff?”

  “Garrett’s dead.”

  “Shame,” Rita replied. “He was a good customer. Speaking of which… can we interest your new gentleman friend in anyone? We’ll have to clean up the mess upstairs first, of course.”

  She gestured to Will, who was once again blushing like crazy. Jules slammed her glass on the table.

  “Frankly, you should be paying him,” Jules said. “He’s as talented in a bedroll as he is with his gun—and I’m not easily impressed in either department.”

  Rita frowned. “Well, if he’s been with you, he’s lacking in good taste, that’s for sure.”

  “Can we get out of here, please?” Will asked Jules, as one of the prostitutes sauntered over, eying him. He looked uncomfortable as the girl undressed him with her eyes. Jules couldn’t help but smile. God knows she’d seen that expression on men ogling her often enough.

  “Now that the free drinks are done, yes,” Jules said, standing up.

  Rita gave her a dirty look as she walked out with Miranda, Will and Luke in tow. Jules started down the street.

  “Where are we going now?” Will asked.

  “To the saloon where we can continue drinking in earnest,” Jules replied. “I’m not going to pay for any more of Rita’s swill. God knows what she puts in it, but it doesn’t taste like proper whiskey.”

  “Jules—” Will said.

  “So that’s it? We’re just giving up?” Miranda shouted at Jules back. When Jules turned around, she was standing in the middle of the street.

  Around them, people were beginning to leave their homes again, finally convinced the bandits weren’t coming back. Several were looking her way, casting evil glances as if this were all her fault. Which, in a way, it was. Duggett and the others wouldn’t have been here except for her.

  Not that she was accepting any blame. If they wanted to assign it, that was their trouble, not hers.

  “What would you suggest I do?” Jules said. “We’ve got no map, no keys and—right now—no damn silver bullets. We won the battle to get the silver, but lost the war. You were the one telling me not to go, weren’t you? Aren’t you happy? Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

  Jules turned and walked up the street without another word. She didn’t want to shout at Miranda. It never made her happy. Truthfully, she wanted to shoot somebody, but her sister wasn’t whom she had in mind.

  She made it all the way to the saloon door before Will caught up with her. He put a hand on her shoulder.

  Something in Jules snapped. She wheeled on him, drawing her gun in the process. He backed up, his hands in the air.

  “Don’t you touch me again,” Jules said.

  Behind him, Miranda appeared alarmed while Luke was just how he always was, contemplative and calm, seemingly without a care in the world.

  “I’m just trying to get your attention,” Will said. “Now calm down and put the gun away.”

  She twirled the gun on her finger and rammed it into her holster.

  “You got a plan, Will Starling?” she asked. “You should be celebrating too. Did my sister happen to mention where we were going?”

  “She didn’t, but—”

  “The Maelstrom, Will,” she said. “That’s where we’re headed. Or where we were headed, I should say. Now we’re going to the bar so I can drink myself into a stupor.”

  “The Maelstrom? That’s—”

  “Insane? Crazy? Suicidal? Yes, yes, and yes. But I had a plan and now it’s gone to hell. So join me for a drink, will you? It’s on me.”

  “You’re going to the Maelstrom?” another voice cut in.

  Jules turned to find Crazy Pete sitting outside the saloon. She wasn’t sure when he’d shown up. Maybe he’d turned up because she’d said the word ‘crazy,’ like summoning a genie or something.

  “Yeah, Pete, I was going to the Maelstrom,” Jules said. “Want to join me? You seem like the right kind of companion.”

  Pete stood up and began shaking his head vigorously, so hard she worried it would pop off.

  “No. It’s not a very nice place.”

  Jules laughed. “Oh, come on, it’s just a perpetual storm overrun by demonic monsters. What’s not to like?”

  He looked up at her very seriously. “It used to be nice.”

  The smile on her face slipped a bit. She met his brown eyes, which continued to dart back and forth. “What do you mean, used to be? How would you know?”

  Miranda came forward, attempting to cut between them as if Jules were teasing him. But she was suddenly serious.

  “I was there once,” Pete said. His expression was far away, like he was dreaming while awake. “It was different then. Very quiet, like a tomb. I remember something. What was it? What was it?”

  He bit his bottom lip, drawing blood, as Jules felt a chill run down her body.

  “Yes, yes, a door,” Pete continued. “I saw a door. With three keys in it.”

  Jules’ mouth fell open and she took a step back from him. Could it be possible? Crazy Pete said weird things all the time. It was how he’d earned his nickname.

  He’d done that since she was a girl. He’d frightened her at first. She used to shrink against her father whenever he came near, until one day her father had insisted she approach him on her own.

  “Time to face your fears, girl,” he said in his gruff voice.

  She’d been terrified, approaching Crazy Pete as he carried on a conversation with thin air. He’d noticed her at once, and ran up to her. She’d almost wet herself when that happened. But she fought like hell not to run away. She wouldn’t break in front of her father. That was worse than whatever Pete aimed to do.

  He hadn’t wanted to do anything, however. He’d run up to her and somehow, miraculously, gave her a flower, seemingly out of nowhere. It had probably been in his pocket, but it didn’t look dead or crushed.

  “For the prettiest girl in town,” Pete had said, and then scampered away again, singing.

  She hadn’t feared him after that. Her father’s tactic had worked. She’d seen Pete for what he was: a harmless old man. Or maybe not that old. She suspected his malady had prematurely aged him.

  “You’ve been there?” she asked him tentatively.

  Pete was no longer paying attention to her. He was staring at the batwing door to the saloon. He reached out a hand to push it, and when it swung back at him, he giggled.

  “Pete!” Jules said.

  He wheeled around in surprise and alarm, as if he’d been caught doing something bad. He cowered before her like she was going to hit him, though she’d done nothing other than shout.

  “Stop. You’re scaring him,” Miranda said from behind her.

  Jules approached him and put a hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eye. He looked like he wanted to bolt at first, but calmed down after a moment.

  “Have you been to the Maelstrom?” she asked, focusing on his eyes. For a moment, they appeared to focus on her.

  “Long ago,” he said in a whisper. “Different place back then. Different, different, different. Silent. Nothing stirring.”

  “Why were you there?”

  “Find something,” he said. “We wanted to find something.”

  She noticed he said “we,” but didn’t want to get off topic.

  “What were you trying to find?”

  She waited on tenterhooks for what he said next. He’d mentioned three keys and a door. That was already enough to prove he knew something about the Maelstrom. If he said he was looking for a vase, she might seriously begin to believe that’d he’d actually been there. He looked back at her.

  “Something small. No, not small, big. Medium. It was mixed up. Something was lost in translation, I think. It wasn’t what I thought it should be.”

  She kept her eyes on him.

  “What did you think it should be?”

  He didn’t answer her, but looked off to the sky
again.

  “Jack-in-the-box,” he said.

  Jules waited for a moment and then burst out laughing again. She was disappointed in herself.

  For a moment, she’d been about to put her hopes in Crazy Pete. The idea was hilarious and showed how truly desperate she’d become. She didn’t know how Pete knew about the keys or the door. Perhaps he’d overheard something from Duggett or his men. The more she thought about it, the more plausible that explanation became.

  She patted Pete’s shoulder.

  “Right,” she said. “I hope you enjoyed your jack-in-the-box.”

  In a flash, Pete’s face turned ugly, his expression both fearful and angry.

  “He opened the box, but there wasn’t a clown,” he said. “There was a Viper. Viper!”

  She was so startled that she turned and searched the sky, afraid he’d spotted something behind her. But it was blue with only a few white, fluffy clouds. There was nothing ominous there.

  “Viper in the box!” Pete hissed. “Viper got loose!”

  He turned and ran from her, fleeing down an alleyway by the saloon. Jules ran after him, suddenly convinced that maybe he was more informed than she’d realized. Miranda shouted at her to stop, but Jules ignored her.

  She caught up with him, intending only to stop him in his tracks. But as she grabbed him, he fell to the ground. She tried to help him up and he scrambled in panic back from her.

  “Don’t go there,” Pete said. “Don’t go there. That’s where he went. He didn’t come back. Only Pete came back. Pete tried to lock the door, but couldn’t. He ran. Ran with the keys. No one can go back there. No one!”

  His eyes were crazed, darting this way and that, as if he were looking in the past and present simultaneously.

  “Calm down, Pete,” she said, trying to make her voice soothing. She heard a noise behind her and glanced back to see that Luke had followed her. “You saw a Viper?”

  “Jack-in-the-box!” Pete screamed. “Jack-in-the-box!”

  Jules knew what jack-in-the-boxes were. It was a toy with a crank. Children wound them up and then a puppet—often a clown—jumped out.

  But as far as she could tell, that had nothing to do with her vase. And she didn’t understand how a Viper could jump out of anything. The idea was vaguely comical. It didn’t make any sense.