Curse of the Daemon Beast

by Francis James Blair

  There were seven of the metal spiders now. At first she allowed herself a faint hope she had at least taken out some of them, but then noticed the blackened scarring across the metal of several.

  So, lightning was out. Fire, maybe? How hot did metal have to get to melt? Hotter than she thought her shots got to. Steelfire would do it, but doubtful a miracle would happen twice in that regard. She felt along her bandoliers, thinking furiously. The dirt moving spell could block the tunnel, at least long enough for them to get away . . . .

  Then she brushed against her other elemental strikers, the ones she didn’t like to use on account of their risk. She had told herself they were only for an emergency, and this seemed like just that sort of situation.

  Loading the shot took longer again than she would have liked. Ruth was pulling ahead of her, but the other girl was breathing heavy. Likely wasn’t used to running for her life through strange tunnels from monsters better left unspoken about. Girl had a lot to learn if she wanted to walk in Temperance’s footsteps.

  At last the cylinder spun into place. Temperance whipped around, and with an involuntary wince, shouted, “Elsamente!”

  Icy cold poured from her gun, turning the lantern light blue for the briefest of seconds. The wave struck the oncoming spiders, and with a crack loud enough to wake the dead, the creatures’ legs froze, locking in place. They tumbled over each other to the tunnel floor, most shattering on impact. A few survived the fall and lay twitching on the ground, helpless.

  All at once the tunnel went silent.

  Temperance came to a halt. The gun in her hand had gone so cold she didn’t think she could let it go if she wanted to. It would be five minutes before it thawed enough to be useful for anything, but it looked like that wouldn’t be a problem now.

  A hand brushed against her shoulder, and Ruth appeared, lantern held high, a curious look upon her face. “What were those things?”

  “Something to keep us from poking around, I reckon. Nothing we need to worry over now, though. Let’s get back to the entrance and signal Astor before—”

  Temperance froze as something pressed between her shoulder blades, followed by the unmistakable click of a hammer being drawn back.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Please turn around, Miss.” The voice was gruff but didn’t sound angry.

  Temperance looked over her shoulder. A man with dark skin and a shock of white hair stood there, a rifle clutched in his hands. One of the guards from the entrance, most likely.

  “You Moshim?” she asked, taking a chance.

  The man shook his head. “He is back at the entrance. My name is Myung, Miss. Please, turn around now. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He reached out and grabbed Ruth’s gun. The girl let it go with a surprised squeak, her other hand tightening its grip on Temperance.

  Slowly, so as not to spook the man, Temperance turned, moving so she was in between Ruth and Myung. “I’m going to need that gun back,” she said, holding out her hand.

  Myung shook his head again. “Please give me that one as well.” He nodded towards Temperance’s revolver.

  “Afraid I can’t do that.” Even if she wanted to, the blasted thing was still frozen to her skin. “Guess you’ll have to shoot me.”

  Ruth let out another little squeak, and Myung actually took a step back. “No need for that. Give me the gun and we all walk out of here.”

  “No. You better shoot me now, or put down the guns yourself, if you don’t want a beating.” Temperance took a step forward until Myung’s gun pressed against her chest again.

  “You must be crazy, Miss!” Myung stared at her, his expression a mix of fear and anger. “Last warning.”

  “Shoot me already, you Hell-spawned son a bi—” Temperance lunged at the man while she spoke. Myung pulled the trigger. There was a brief flash, a loud bang, and the next moment the poor man was lying on the floor, holding his foot and screaming something fierce.

  Temperance reached down, flung the man’s gun away into the darkness, and collected her other revolver. She handed it back to Ruth, who was looking at her like she had sprouted horns.

  “How come you ain’t dead?” the girl asked.

  “I’m bulletproof. Now c’mon, let’s get going.” She glanced down at Myung, who was still moaning loudly. “Sorry about the foot. We’ll send someone to help.”

  The sound of rushing footsteps came echoing down the tunnel. A moment later, Moshim turned a corner in the tunnel and came into their lantern light. He squinted at them, a gun in his hands but pointed low.

  “What—” he began. Ruth whipped her revolver towards the man. A shout bubbled up onto Temperance’s lips, but before it could find its way out the other girl fired.

  By some random chance the bullet hit Moshim’s gun, sending it flying away into the dark. They all dropped to the ground, hands covering heads, as the bullet zipped back and forth between the tunnel walls. At last the sounds of its ricochets faded into the distance, and Temperance climbed to her feet.

  “What did I tell you about not firing unless it was an emergency?” she asked Ruth, who at least had the decency to look embarrassed. She helped the other girl up and regarded the two Wenxi men.

  “Well, can’t leave them both here.” She glanced at Myung. He was still moaning, but his foot didn’t seem to be bleeding much. Probably just clipped a toe. “I’m taking your friend with us. We’ll send someone for you when we get back to town.”

  She hauled Moshim to his feet. He glared at her, but raised his hands quick enough when she pointed a gun in his direction. The three of them set off along the tunnel, Temperance holding both her revolvers now, Ruth the lantern. A few turns later the entrance appeared.

  Outside, they found Astor tied up to one of the building posts. What happened? I thought I heard shooting.

  “Oh, just business as usual.” Temperance untied the horse and handed the reins to Ruth. “Ride back to town and find the mayor. Tell him to meet me at the church. I have a feeling he’s going to want to hear all of this.”

  As Ruth and Astor disappeared through the trees, Temperance and her prisoner set off along the trail. At first they walked in silence, which suited her fine. After a while though, a question started itching at the back of her head, until it got to the point she couldn’t keep it in any longer.

  “What I want to know is, why are a bunch of Wenxi helping the church with daemon research? Aren’t you the Empire’s allies?”

  Moshim shot her a look she could only describe as withering. He seemed to chew over whether to answer for a moment, but eventually shook his head. “We are not from Wenxi, Miss. My associates and I were born in Tii, before seeking asylum here.”

  “Tii?” Temperance wished she had paid more attention to her mother’s geography lessons. She didn’t recall ever hearing that one before. What was around Wenxi again? The Empire took most of their border, of course, and there was another—Esterfall, maybe?

  “You can be forgiven for not knowing it. Wenxi conquered my nation over two hundred years ago.”

  Just like the Empire and Finderhav. Interesting. “So what, you’re helping with daemon research as part of some grand revenge?”

  Moshim glowered at her again, and this time didn’t respond. Temperance shrugged. “Fine, I’ll get my answers out of Reynolds.” The first of Shady Hollow’s fields appeared in the distance. “This is far enough. You can head back and help your friend now.”

  The white-haired man blinked in surprise. After a moment he nodded. “My thanks for not killing me. Whatever happens, I hope you’ll remember that we meant you no harm here.” Temperance wasn’t sure if the man meant what had happened in the tunnels, or the town in general. Before she could ask, he turned and ran off through the trees.

  She made her way across the town without running into anyone, for which she was grateful. Now was not the best time to get between her and her goal, even for just a friendly greeting.

  The church looked quiet when
she spotted it, neither the mayor nor Ruth in sight. So, she had arrived first then. No sense in waiting around.

  As much as she wanted to kick down the door in a dramatic fashion, she opened it regular instead, one of her revolvers held at the ready. No reason to think Reynolds was expecting her, but just in case.

  The main worship hall was empty, so she went through a door at the far end and found herself in the reverend’s private chambers. Wasn’t much to them, just a simple bed and desk, a copy of the Saentom sitting open on it. Temperance noted—somewhat chagrined—that it was still open to the same page Reynolds had read from during the service. No sign of the man himself though.

  As she was turning to leave, she noticed something. A trap door set into the floor. Not that odd, the reverend had to store his food somewhere cool, but maybe, just maybe . . . .

  She lifted it up and found herself staring into Reynold’s face. The man had one hand above his head, still frozen where it had held the trapdoor. At the bottom of the steps stood three more white-haired men from Tii.

  “Miss Alba, what is the meaning of this?” the reverend stuttered, drawing himself up as tall as he could. Temperance was tempted to drop the trapdoor on his head. “I’m in a private meeting with my parishioners!”

  “Your employees, you mean.” Before the man could respond she raised the revolver where he could see it. “C’mon out now. Your men can wait there for the moment.”

  She backed away, leaving space for the reverend to climb out. Once he was clear she dropped the trapdoor. Without taking her eyes off the man she dragged his desk across the room, covering the entrance.

  “There,” she said. “Now we can talk. Why don’t we go wait for the mayor where there’s more room?”

  “Mayor? What are you trying to pull—” Reynolds flinched as Temperance drew the hammer back on her gun with an audible click. Seemed like that was happening a lot today.

  “I’m not trying to ‘pull’ anything here. I want answers.” They stepped into the main hall as John Cullings appeared through the doorway. Ruth glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Temperance.

  “Ah, good, we’re all here.” Temperance turned to the reverend. Or whatever he was. “You want to tell them, or should I?”

  “Miss Alba, I hope you got a good reason for pointing that gun ‘round.” There was a hard edge to the mayor’s voice. A clear warning, that. “How ‘bout you put it down so we can all talk civil like?”

  Temperance ignored him. “Well?” she asked again. Reynolds glared at her. “Fine, have it your way. The ‘reverend’ here hasn’t been honest with you, Mister Cullings. I took a trip up to the mines earlier today, and you’re not going to believe what I found.”

  “Ah, so that’s what this is ‘bout.” John said, hardly batting an eye.

  Temperance reeled with shock. “You knew? You knew about the daemons and the experiments and you didn’t tell me?”

  “Daemons? Hold on now.” It was the mayor’s turn to look shocked. “I knew they were doing work on behalf of the Federation up there, but Reynolds never told me what, exactly. Said it was better if we all didn’t know.” He rounded on the other man, and if there was a hard edge to John’s voice before, it was nothing compared to now. “You told me we were safe. When I asked if these attacks had to do with your work, you swore, you swore that wasn’t so.”

  “They don’t!” The reverend had lost his smug expression. “Miss Alba is lying to you, John!”

  “That’s a load of horse manure and you know it,” Temperance countered. “I saw what you had in those containers. There was a wolf, same as the one that attacked the town!”

  “That’s a coincidence! Nothing in our lab is alive, never has been! The one attacking the town must be a wild variety related to our specimens.”

  A similar idea had occurred to Temperance earlier. She kept bulling forward. “What about the daemon vials? Those didn’t just show up on their own.”

  “What daemon vials?”

  “The silver vials, there were at least three on the one table alone.”

  “Those are daemons?” The blood drained from Reynold’s face so fast Temperance thought he might pass out. “We’ve been studying those for years, and you’re telling me there are daemons inside? But what about—Oh. Oh no.”

  “What?” Temperance and the mayor demanded at the same time.

  “Two weeks ago, Haneu dropped one. Shattered all over the floor, released a foul smelling red mist. We sealed him in the lab for several hours, but he told us it dissipated after just a few minutes. When no one showed any ill effects, I assumed it to be harmless. I never thought . . . .”

  Temperance was working furiously to process this information. The reverend and his men had released a daemon, but it had taken none of his men as host; they would show signs by now that would be obvious even to the most ignorant of farmers.

  It was possible that the daemon could have survived for a few weeks if it didn’t move around too much. Where had it eventually found a host? And why attack the town?

  As much as she hated to admit it, more and more it seemed like Belial might not be involved here at all.

  She realized that Reynolds was still talking, practically pleading with John Cullings, who was flexing his muscles like he was planning to wrestle a bear. “You must believe me John, I had no idea! We were only working with what we had found, most everything in those mines is still a mystery to us. Please, believe me!”

  “Wait a moment,” Temperance interrupted. “You’re telling me you didn’t build that place?”

  Reynolds shook his head. “We don’t know who did. Near as we can tell, the lab has been there for decades. Maybe centuries. The Federation has teams searching for places like this, there are dozens of others spread across Korvana. Two years ago my superiors instructed me to learn what I could from this location. We were actually preparing to leave before that vial broke. As you saw, there is only one more of the wolf creatures, and all of our attempts to learn about them have met with failure.”

  “You’re leaving already?” The mayor sounded surprised. “Does that mean you’ll still honor our agreement?”

  “Agreement?” Temperance asked, only for the answer to hit her like a thunderclap. “Of course. They promised you a land grant for helping them, didn’t they?” Shady Hollow would be a squatter town no longer.

  “I did, and I will provide what I promised.” Reynolds had regained some of his composure now that his safety didn’t seem to be in immediate question. “However, if word of what my men and I were doing up there gets out . . . I don’t imagine it will go well for your town, John.”

  Both of the men turned and looked at Temperance. She realized at some point while they were talking the conversation had turned against her. Tightening her grip on the revolver, she spoke through gritted teeth. “I keep telling you, I’m just here to catch a daemon. If that lab isn’t related, I’ve got no further interest in it.”

  “Even so, I’m afraid we can’t let you walk out of here without some assurances to your silence, Miss Alba. Too much risk.” The reverend seemed to forget that she was the one with the gun. Temperance was about to remind him of that fact, but stopped herself. If she used threats to get out of this situation, they would just slit her throat next time she fell asleep.

  There was another way, but it wasn’t one she wanted to go. Always felt like cheating. No helping it this time though.

  With an inward sigh she reached inside her jacket, then flicked something towards Reynolds. He caught it and looked down. Temperance watched as his face changed from confusion, to surprise, to terror. She reached back and collected her soul symbol. Even having the man touch it that long felt wrong.

  “I take it you recognize my family crest, Mister Reynolds?”

  The reverend nodded. John looked between them, frowning. “Reverend? Miss Alba? What’s going on?”

  “My name isn’t Alba, Mister Cullings. Afraid I wasn’t entirely honest with you either. It’s Whiteoak
.” She watched his face go pale. Behind him, Ruth clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “That is, ah, quite the revelation, Miss Whiteoak.” The reverend swallowed. “Your family has a rather storied history. However, that doesn’t change the fact—”

  “Oh, I’m not done. I only showed that to you so you’d know my next words aren’t just to save my skin. You think I’m out here in the middle of nowhere by my own choice?” The men stared at her with expressions so blank, she wondered if they had anything under their hats but hair. “I was sent out here to get a feel for things.”

  “By who?” John managed at last.

  “By Mister Lorde. I’m sure even you recognize that name, don’t you?”

  “Lorde?” Reynolds sounded half-strangled. “Mister Lorde himself sent you out here?”

  “That’s right, so if you know what’s best, you’ll let me be about my business. I deal with this daemon, report back to him that everything appears in order out here. Or I don’t come back, and you let him draw his own conclusions.”

  “Miss Whiteoak, please—”

  Temperance held up a hand. “No. Whatever you’re going to say, just no. Unless it’s something to help me resolve this daemon problem of yours, let it be. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to be going. I hear there’s a celebration tonight, need to make sure I look my best for it.”

  Temperance brushed past the men, who both looked like they had turned to stone. She grabbed Ruth’s hand and dragged her to the door. Halfway there she stopped and turned around.

  “One more thing, Mister Cullings.” The mayor turned towards her, his massive form looking diminished from what it had been just moments before. “When I leave, I’m taking Miss Mason here with me. I trust you’ll make sure her father doesn’t get any foolish ideas about following us, won’t you?”

  The mayor nodded, face unreadable. Good enough. “Well, thank you for your time, gentlemen. I’ll see you at the social tonight.”