by F J Blair
“Wha—what is this?” She tried to stand, but dropped back to her knees as agony coursed through her. The sharp chill of the water had kept her pain at bay, but now it set its teeth into her. It felt as if every muscle in her body had been torn in two. Perhaps into a few more pieces, besides.
“Best if you just stay there, Girlie. You’re in no shape to be doing cartwheels.” Richard let out a laugh at his own joke and tucked his thumbs into his belt. Temperance’s revolvers were on his hips once again. “Or maybe try your luck after all, not like you’re gonna have another opportunity. I don’t think I need to tell you that you’re in a world of trouble, here.”
Men shuffled from the shadows, appearing like forgotten spirits. One at a time they collected torches from a nearby pile, then lit them from the campfire and spread out in a circle around her. As their light began to push the shadows away, Temperance realized they weren’t outside after all. Stone walls surrounded her, their edges lost in the distance. The stones seemed to flicker and change color in the torchlight.
We’re in the tower from the salt marshes, the one built by the ancient natives. Why would Whittaker and his men bring me back here?
Something else occurred to her, something she had missed as her skull recovered from being beaten like a dusty rug, but which now left fear scraping its claws along her heart. “Where is William?”
“The boy will be along shortly, don’t you have any fear of that.” Richard glanced at his men before turning back to her. “Wouldn’t want him to miss the show, after all.”
Temperance breathed a sigh of relief that William was alive as well, although how long they both remained that way would depend on luck as much as anything.
Do I still have my needles? She tried to shift and feel if they were still in the hem of her skirt. If they are, we might have a chance. Assuming I can distract the bandits first, anyway.
Richard smiled down at her. “Well, girlie, don’t you got anything to say?”
“If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with. There’s no torture you can inflict on me that’s worse than listening to the sound of your voice.”
The bandit leader leaned in close, lips pulled into a sneer, his breath vile beyond imagining. “Believe me, I’d like nothing better than to feed you a lead pill you can’t swallow. Unfortunately for you, it’s up to the boss to decide what’s gonna happen next.”
“Boss? You lose control of your own gang already? Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Temperance tried to sneer right back at the man, but her cheeks felt puffy and awkward. Something that was probably drool traced a line down her chin.
“Laugh it up while you can, Girlie. None of your magicks are going to save you this time. I’ve taken away all your toys.”
Richard turned and lifted something off the ground. With a jolt of terror that she hadn’t been able to summon for herself or even William, Temperance saw that it was her grandfather’s jacket. One of the patches had torn off the sleeve again, and there were several rents in the leather on the back wider than her hand. It looked in pitiful shape, but still repairable.
“That was a neat trick at the station. Sheriff almost got to us before we managed to knock you free. Effort like that deserves some sort of prize, don’t you think?” Without taking his eyes from Temperance, the bandit leader drew a knife. Temperance’s knife. He flicked it along the back of the jacket, and a large piece of material fell away.
“No!” Temperance climbed to her feet despite the pain. Her hands were bound behind her, but there was nothing hindering her legs. She lunged forward at Richard. Hands closed on her shoulders and hauled her back.
“Now, now, don’t get too excited there. The fun is just getting started.” Richard sliced again. Another piece of leather fell away, and then another. The sleeves fell apart in ribbons. Spare bullets spilled from the pockets. One of the coat’s decorative quills landed at Temperance’s feet. She stared down at it, her brain not quite accepting what she was seeing.
It’s alright. I can sew it back together. Her breathing was coming in ragged gasps. Richard sliced the last piece into two and flung it away. He kicked the pile of leather at his feet, sending the contents scattering across the tower floor. It’s not too late. The coat can be repaired, William will enchant it again, and everything will be good as new. Everything is fine. Everything. Is. Fine.
Richard’s laughter boomed through the ruined tower. He leaned in until his nose was less than an inch from Temperance’s own. “Well, how do you like that, Girlie?”
With all the strength remaining to her, Temperance lifted her head. She held it there just long enough to meet Richard’s gaze, then swung forward with a force that surprised even her. Her forehead connected with the bandit leader’s nose, and she was rewarded with the satisfying sound of a wet crunch and a curse that could have curdled fresh milk.
“You lousy bitch!” Richard staggered back. He wiped at the blood coursing down his face, mouth pulling back into a snarl, revealing red-stained teeth. He probed at his face with a finger while his eyes promised murder. “You broke my gods-damn nose!”
“I’m going to do more than that when I get my hands on you.” Temperance struggled against the men holding her. They forced her back onto her knees.
Richard held a cloth to his face. “Hope you enjoyed your little victory, because it is the last you’re ever gonna have. Funtime is over. The boss is on his way.”
The men surrounding them began to part, leaving a wide gap in their line. Several of them twitched oddly as they moved, as if their muscles wouldn’t respond properly, while others had sweat streaming down their faces. Something about the way they acted felt familiar, but Temperance couldn’t place why. The men stood waiting, most with eyes fixed on the ground, the tower utterly silent but for the crackle of flames.
From the darkness, several shapes emerged, making their slow way towards the campfire. As they passed its glow and stepped into the ring of torches, Temperance saw that both were familiar. One was William, still gagged and with hands tied behind his back.
The other was Lucius.
Dammit, that explains a few things. No wonder Richard threw his men at me in Sweetwater. Lucius must have them all enthralled.
Lucius stopped a good yard from where Temperance knelt and stared down at her. The upyr said something in that unfamiliar language of his, the words without meaning.
Next to her, Richard spoke. “Boss says that you never should have tried to take what belongs to him.”
“What’s your plan here, Lucius?” Temperance never took her eyes off the upyr, although she could feel every fiber of her being screaming in terror as those eyes burrowed into her. “You gonna turn me into another one of your thralls?”
The upyr’s lips curled upward, showing those razor-sharp wolf teeth. More unfamiliar words, although Temperance caught one or two she was starting to recognize.
“He says that enthrallment is too good for the likes of you. Has something better in mind.”
“Oh really? I’m just dying of curiosity.”
“You’ll be dying alright, Girlie.” Richard grinned, although she could see the sweat pouring down his face now as well. “From what he says, won’t be quick, either.”
“I’m to be breakfast, is that it? Or perhaps dinner. I’m not exactly sure what time it is in blood-sucking monster hours.” Temperance shifted about, hoping it looked like she was trying to hide her nervousness. One of her fingers probed along the hem of her skirt.
“That’s right. Says you’re to be tonight’s wedding feast for him and—” Richard paused, a confused frown creasing his face. He turned and regarded William a moment. “—and her, I guess.”
Temperance glanced back at Lucius. “You’re wasting your time. William doesn’t love you.”
It was as if an electrophysik current had discharged in the room. The men around them shivered as one, and Richard let out a groan like somebody had just sucker-punched him. Lucius took a step closer and leaned for
ward until he and Temperance were eye level. The upyr’s expression was colder than a western wind.
“Willabeatha.” His voice was thick with triumph. From beside them, Richard spoke again.
“Boss says that won’t matter. When someone awakens as an upyr, they’re like a whole new person. Willa . . . Willabeatha won’t remember her old life as anything other than a bad dream.”
“Well, isn’t that convenient.” Temperance started working along her skirt again as the upyr returned to William’s side. Her fingers closed around one of her needles. “So why haven’t you started already?”
“Midnight is still a few minutes away. Then Willabeatha will turn sixteen and come of age.”
Temperance snorted, drawing the needle into her palm. She prayed the men surrounding her hadn’t noticed. “A real gentleman, you are. Is that supposed to keep you from getting in trouble when you return to Isterial?”
“They won’t be returning to Isterial. Boss says he’s come to like it here. Plenty of food, plus space to grow. They’ll make a new home here, the start of a whole new clan to rule all the continent . . . .” The bandit leader trailed off and looked at Lucius. “Wait just a damn minute, you said once me and my men were done helping we’d be set free! You promised you were leaving!”
Another wave of energy ran through the room. The former bandit leader clutched at his head and let out an ear-piercing scream. He dropped to the ground, curling in on himself, his body shaking from terror or pain or both. Under better circumstances, Temperance would have greatly enjoyed the show.
At last the screaming trailed off and Richard climbed to his feet. He sucked in several ragged breaths, then spoke through gritted teeth. “I . . . understand. We live to . . . serve.”
The upyr turned back to regard Temperance. Her mind started working furiously, trying to think of a way out of this situation. She had minutes left, maybe even less.
I can probably get myself free with the needle, but that will only buy me a moment. I need a way to keep them distracted. Come on, think! Grandpa didn’t spend all that time training me just to fail in a moment like this. What else do I have to work with?
Her gaze fell on the tattered remains of her jacket, just barely visible outside the ring. It occurred to her that she still had the fire hex sphere, buried somewhere in the scraps. If she used it though, there would be no saving what was left.
A low moan slipped from her lips. Lucius smiled, perhaps thinking her distress came from him. Inside her skull, Temperance raged with an anger born of impotence.
There has to be another way! Without Grandpa’s jacket, I’m no Pistol Witch, I’m hardly even fit to be called a Warlock. Without that jacket, I’m nothing! Certainly not someone who can stand up to Varconis.
No. She forced herself to take a breath. Being a Pistol Witch is about more than that. It’s not the tools I wield, but the purpose I put them towards. That’s what Grandpa would tell me, if he was here.
She knew what she had to do. William’s life, and her own, were at stake. She could worry about the rest later.
“You were wrong, you know.” Temperance’s words came out as little more than a whisper.
“What’s that?” Richard asked. The upyr frowned and took a step forward. Temperance ignored him and stared at the former bandit leader.
“I said, you were wrong. You think my magick resides in my tools, like that coat. It doesn’t. It lives inside me, in the very depths of my soul. That’s something you can never take away, not until you see me on the wrong side of the dirt at last.”
Something in her gaze must have tipped Richard off. He spun towards the men standing over the remnants of her grandfather’s jacket. “Get away from there!”
“Habernosara.” The word came out as barely more than a whisper. A single tear traced its way down Temperance’s cheek.
Goodbye, old friend.
Fire erupted out of the leather pile, sending the blazing strips scattering through the room. Three of the bandits were engulfed in flames, and several others barely managed to leap away in time. The plume of flame continued to grow, rising until it licked the peak of the tower, spreading fingers all across the floor. More of Whittaker’s men screamed as they found themselves caught in its path. Stones tumbled from above, crushing all unlucky enough to be underneath.
The grip on Temperance’s shoulders released, and she rolled away from the approaching wall of heat. Coming up into a crouch, she half-screamed, half-growled as the needle in her palm snapped in two.
“Intevoroso!”
Strength flooded through her, momentarily leaving her feeling like she could lift a mountain. The ropes binding her hands tore apart. A bandit appeared out of the haze of smoke, either to subdue her or by simple rotten luck. She drove a fist straight through his chest. He collapsed backwards, dead before he even reached the ground.
“William!” She stumbled in what she hoped was the right direction. The air in the tower was becoming more difficult to breathe with every passing minute. Stones continued to fall. Dead and dying bandits lay all around her, although a few were starting to regain their feet. There were only moments until they were on her again. Reaching down, she grabbed an abandoned revolver. “William, where are you?”
“Here!” From out of the smoke the boy appeared, hands still bound behind him, gag hanging loose around his neck. He rushed to her side. Temperance draped an arm around his shoulder, and together they turned and moved through the haze, the air around them like breathing fumes from a forge.
A loud hiss was the only warning Temperance had. She shoved William hard, knocking both of them to the ground. They collapsed amid the burning rubble.
Temperance rolled over, and saw Lucius standing where they had been a moment before, his fingers grasping for prey that was no longer there. He turned towards her, and if the look in his eyes had been cold before, now they were the frozen depth of Hell by comparison.
“Hliftus dun!” He shouted. Temperance raised the revolver.
There was a grating screech, and most of the tower roof gave way at last. Stones rained down around them, Lucius disappearing beneath a torrent of rubble and flaming wreckage. The last Temperance saw of him was a clawed hand raised towards the sky before more stones buried it from sight.
“C’mon, we can’t stay here.” She pulled William to his feet, and together they hobbled their way through the smoke, coughs wracking their lungs, the air gone sour enough they were almost crawling on hands and knees.
Starlight appeared as the opening yawned before them. A few bandits ran about outside, but either they didn’t see her and William or they chose to ignore them in the chaos. Temperance didn’t care either way.
A trio of horses stood roped to an old tree stump nearby. It took a moment to free William from his bonds, but once that was done he helped push Temperance onto the back of one before climbing on another.
“Which direction?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Temperance coughed and wrapped her arms around the horse’s neck. “So long as it’s far away from here.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Five Years Earlier
Almost . . . almost . . . now!
Temperance rose from her hiding place and dashed back to the ruins of the cabin. A short distance away, the lurker hissed and thrashed about as it searched for her. It had taken some careful planning to build a noisemaker trap without alerting the monster to her presence, but now the effort was proving worth the time and risk. With luck she should have a minute, maybe two, before it returned.
She scooped up cans without stopping to read the labels, took a moment to paw through the wreckage looking for the wood axe, found nothing, then set off running again. At least she didn’t need to waste time gathering up the tree fibers—she had managed to collect the last of those two days ago.
A hiss behind her signaled the lurker’s return, but Temperance was already to the far treeline. If the creature didn’t have a line of sight, it would have to track by
smell, and fortunately all the lingering scents of the cabin seemed to be confusing its ability to follow her.
Unfortunately, that also meant the creature kept returning to squat on the cabin’s remains like some unwanted prospector.
It had been quite the surprise that first night when she had awoken to the creature lumbering back into the clearing. Fortunately for her, she had chosen to sleep beneath a nearby tree, thinking it would provide at least a little bit of camouflage. That had proven a wise decision, and she watched as the creature settled itself down right on top of the closed trap door.
Good thing I didn’t try sleeping in there, or who knows how long I would have been stuck. Might’ve suffocated before the creature got up again.
Now, however, she was forced to make dangerous raids back into the clearing to resupply. The creature left every once in a while, likely following one scent or another, but it always returned sooner than she would have liked. Wasn’t making her plans for escape any easier, that was for true.
Nearly a week had passed since Temperance shook off the last of the fever that had gripped her. While recovery would have certainly gone better with a little whiskey to help purify her system, she had to admit that she felt better now than she had since before the attack on Cold Valley. Perhaps falling sick had been for the best, purging what weakness lurked inside her. Pity about the lurker complicating the situation, though.
The creature’s presence here was a rather perplexing mystery. There wasn’t anything worth eating in the whole dang valley other than squirrels and a few small birds, and the lurker would likely have trouble catching those. Besides, lurkers tended to leave rather . . . large scat piles in their wake, and she’d seen nothing of the sort while exploring.
She returned to her current camp and set to gathering up what supplies remained, those being little more than a blanket serving double as a makeshift bag along with her length of rope. She had just finished buffing and twining the last strands this morning before her hunger got the better of her. All that remained now was to test its strength.