Lockhart's Legacy (Vespari Lockhart Book 1) (30 page)

***

Wynonna’s ears rang from the explosion. Some of the chunks of dead flesh had even managed to fly through the window and were now dangling throughout the room. She wiped a piece that she expected had been an ear off her shoulder with a grimace and sat up to look out the window again. The explosion had taken plenty of the ghouls out, and she was pretty sure the revenant was in a new body. And, above all else, she’d certainly managed to provoke the Gentleman, though not in the way she’d hoped. Rather than the revenant charging inside to kill her, it was his ghouls. Only he remained outside, pointing into the smithy.

Realizing the danger she was in, Wynonna shoved the rest of the matches in her pocket and turned back to the door. She slammed it shut before any of the ghouls could make their way to the second floor. She then pushed a dresser to further block their way. She hoped it would hold them, but that was her only way out other than the window. Given her choices, it seemed she would have to go out through there. Only the revenant was out there, and she hoped that he would be an easier obstacle to overcome.

When she approached the window, however, she found that he knew exactly where she was and exactly what she intended. He fired three shots, each only narrowly missing her. The oozing, black bullets lodged into the wood window frame, as she ducked down to avoid being hit.

Behind her, the ghouls banged against the door, clamoring to get in with her. She twisted her head around to see the dresser skid a bit. She couldn’t stay there, and she couldn’t go out the window. Wynonna raised her head up a bit to peek out again, only for the revenant to nearly shoot her the same as before. As long as the Gentleman was out there, she wasn’t going anywhere.

***

Wynonna was under fire from one side and trapped by a horde of ghouls on the other. Lockhart knew he had to do something, but what? He didn’t have his gun. He didn’t even have his knife. Leaning back behind the building, he stuck his hands into his pockets. A silver coin, one silver round, some leftover mad lotus, and the silver slivers he’d received from Knox in Abilene for taking the vishler contract.

Lockhart paused, staring at the slivers in his palm. Wynonna had already figured it out. She knew what the revenant was after. He was only getting it now. Silver. That’s what drove him. The Gentleman must’ve been a greedy man in life. That’s what Wynonna had used to lure him to the smithy. A mine cart. Chunks of silver leading into the smithy. He felt a sense of pride at how clever she’d been to realize it all, but there was no time to linger on that.

If silver had been enough to lure the revenant and his ghouls there, maybe he could use it as a distraction to get Wynonna out of there. Relying on little more than guesses and a hope, Lockhart moved out from behind the building and walked toward the Gentleman from behind. He stayed silent as he approached the revenant, but the revenant’s focus was squarely on the window where Wynonna was hiding.

Gripping the slivers in his palm, Lockhart reared back and threw the silver just beyond the revenant. As the glittering metal passed him, the Gentleman turned his head to follow their path. Lockhart took this opportunity to run toward the revenant and tackle him to the ground. Both of the creature’s revolvers fell to the ground in the collision, and the two men rolled toward the smithy.

“Wynonna!” he yelled. “G-go!”

***

Hearing Lockhart shout her name, Wynonna rose up and looked out the window. He and the revenant were tussling on the ground right outside the smithy. She wasn’t going to get a better opportunity than this. She stuck one of her legs out first, balancing it on the narrow ledge just outside. When it was steady, she bent over and squeezed her upper body out as well with the opposite leg following.

As she did, the ghouls behind her pushed the dresser from the door and rushed in. Wynonna grimaced, worrying about the landing she would make, but jumped all the same. She lingered a second too long though.

One of the ghouls managed to reach out and grab Wynonna’s arm as she fell. Her own weight plus the ghoul’s inherent weakness wouldn’t have been a problem ordinarily, as she could have easily dragged it with her as she fell. As the ghoul was pulled through the window, however, the other undead creatures all vying to get her as well clogged the opening. Along with them, she was stuck, dangling there with a series of flailing undead things above her.

Sick of dealing with these creatures, Wynonna grabbed Lockhart’s knife from her belt and slashed at the ghoul’s wrist. Black blood dripped down on her, but she didn’t care. The knife stuck into the bone, not severing it like she’d hoped. She yanked it out and repeated the action. By the fourth strike, she was nearly through, and her own weight was enough to cause the bone to snap the rest of the way and the flesh to tear loose.

Wynonna fell with a thud, the ghoul’s hand still clutched around her wrist. Prying it off, she tossed it aside and then focused on Lockhart and the revenant. The Gentleman had managed to get on top of him and was choking Lockhart similarly to how he’d done to her back in the silver mine’s office. Having a clear shot at him now though, she wanted to take it.

Running straight at the pair, Wynonna kicked the Gentleman square in the face, knocking him off Lockhart. As her master sputtered and caught his breath, Wynonna stepped over and past him, pulling the revolver from her belt. The revenant stopped his roll on his back, and she stood over him, putting her boot to his neck.

“You killed everyone I love!” she screamed. “You took everything from me! My family! My home! But you didn’t take my life. That was your biggest mistake.”

Wynonna pointed the gun down at his head and pulled the trigger. The black blood oozed from the wound, and she felt a sense of comfort in watching it. His body, however, soon began to change back into the ghoul he’d occupied.

Panting, Lockhart reiterated this, saying, “He’s j-j-just… going to re… constitute himself as… a ghoul.”

Wynonna looked at her vespari master and smiled. “I know.”

Handing him his revolver and knife, Wynonna then pulled the final stick of dynamite and the matches from her pockets. With them in hand, she approached the front door of the smithy. Looking up at the window she’d jumped from and where the ghouls were still clogged, she spotted the Gentleman jammed in with the rest of them and unable to move. She flicked the match against the box, lit the dynamite, and tossed it into the smithy.

As soon as the flame on the wick hit the black powder that covered the floor, the whole building erupted. Lockhart jumped at her and knocked her to the ground, using his body to shield her from the blast. She heard chunks of debris pelt him and heard his groans in response. She hadn’t even considered how big the explosion would be or the danger it would put them both in. She wondered if this was how he died. She wondered if Iris’s prophecy had been correct.

When the smoke cleared and Wynonna was able to stand up, however, she found that Lockhart was okay. He was still breathing, albeit heavy, but breathing all the same. She checked his back for damage. The debris had pierced his duster in a couple spots but nothing too big was sticking out of him. His regeneration would handle it.

“Did you g-get him?” Lockhart asked.

Wynonna looked up at the blaze. She couldn’t make anything out within. “I can’t tell.”

“P-pinch yourself.”

She looked down at him. “What?”

“The p-p-pain suppression.”

“Oh, right.”

Wynonna held one arm out in front of her and squeezed a chunk of flesh between her thumb and index finger. She hardly felt anything. She squeezed harder. Nothing but pressure, while her skin turned red and irritated. Wynonna smiled and nodded at Lockhart.

“He’s dead,” she told him. “He’s really dead.”

***

Once all the violence had ended, and after allowing Wynonna a moment to bask in her revenge, Lockhart turned to her. “You lied t-to me.”

His apprentice continued to stare at the flames of the building that housed the revenant’s burning body.

Lockhart grabbed her shoulder and forced her to look at him. “You lied to m-me,” he repeated.

Wynonna paused, all happiness fading from her face, and then she glared at him. “It wasn’t hard. You’re too trusting, Cory.”

He took a couple deep breaths. “Why? Why d-d-did you d-d-do this?”

Her eyes cut away from his and she swallowed. “The fortune teller back in Courtland. She showed me where we could find the coven and the Gentleman.”

“Then why--?”

Wynonna looked back into his eyes, a fire burning in her own. “She said I had to make a choice. She said I could either kill the Gentleman or save your life. I couldn’t do both.”

“And you ch-ch-chose to kill me?”

“I chose to avenge my family. I did what I had to.”

Lockhart remained silent for a minute and looked away from Wynonna as she looked back to the fire. He considered the fortune teller’s vision and the implications of his apprentice’s choice. They’d killed the Gentleman. Did that mean that the coven was beyond his reach? Did that mean that he would die from the Caustic Brand they’d bestowed on him? He didn’t know, but he wasn’t ready to give up.

Lockhart turned back to Wynonna. “I’m sorry.”

“You?” she asked, looking to him. “What do you have to be sorry about? I’m the one who…” She stopped, thinking how to end that sentence. “I made the decision. Not you, and I’m not apologizing for anything.”

“That’s what I’m s-s-s-sorry for. To put you in that situation.”

“You didn’t. I did it myself. I’m my own woman. I went to the fortune teller behind your back. Me. You had nothing to do with it.”

“It was my f-f-f-fault. You had to ch-ch-choose, and I’m sorry.”

“You don’t--”

“And I f-f-forgive you.”

She scowled at him. “I didn’t apologize. I didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m not sorry for making my decision. I couldn’t trust that you’d still be alive after the beldams. I needed your help to kill this bastard.” She pointed idly toward the fires.

“Doesn’t m-m-matter. I still f-f-f-forgive you.”

Wynonna shook her head. “Whatever you say.”

“I vowed to p-p-put the deaths of m-monsters before my own life. That’s what you d-did. You chose to do the right th-thing.”

She folded her arms at her chest. “Then, I have nothing to be forgiven for.”

“If the fortune t-teller was correct, I want you to r-remember it when I’m gone. I forgive you.”

Wynonna refused to meet his gaze and shrugged.

“But, I’m n-not letting the b-beldams get away.”

“The fortune teller’s vision was pretty clear.” She looked down at the ground. “I don’t know how you’ll die, but you won’t be able to kill them before the mark takes you.”

“You expect me to g-g-give up?”

“No… I just…”

“I’m going to hunt th-th-them down, prophecy o-o-or o-o-otherwise.”

Wynonna shrugged, still not meeting his eyes.

“Y-y-you got what y-y-you wanted. The Gentleman is d-dead. Are you going to help m-m-me kill the beldams? Are you g-going to be the vespari you swore to be?”

After a pause, she looked up at him. “They’re in the Howling Gorge. You helped me kill the Gentleman. So, yes. I’ll help you kill the beldams.”

“And if I d-d-die?”

Wynonna nodded. “I’ll finish what you started. I’m a vespari now.”

“Then, let’s g-g-go.”

Lockhart turned and started to leave, but Wynonna called after him. “Wait!”

“What?” he asked, stopping.

Wynonna held her hand to her gut. “I don’t have your regeneration. I may not be able to feel this anymore, but it needs some stitching before we go trudging through the desert again. Plus, I can see shrapnel from the explosion sticking out of your back.”

“Fine.” Lockhart pointed off in the distance. “I saw a d-doctor’s office on the w-way in. M-maybe we can find something there.”

***

Lockhart and Wynonna found the town doctor hiding similarly to how they’d found the barber. Upon convincing her that the threat was over, she managed to stitch the two of them up and pull all of the chunks from Lockhart’s back. The haggard vespari didn’t want to linger in Columbia longer than they had to though, so as soon as the doctor finished with them, they set out for the Howling Gorge.

He knew he didn’t have much time to waste, as the mark was wearing him down more and more with every passing day. He wasn’t done yet though. Even if not for the fortune teller’s prophecy prompting him to hurry, he knew he had to keep going.

Luckily, the Howling Gorge wasn’t very far from the silver mining city. Only about a day’s journey if they moved quickly. From Columbia, the pair traveled east. As the sun dipped down behind them and night overcame the desert, a chill frost took the place of the scorching day. They could see their breaths form before their eyes, and when the sun had completely vanished, a snow started to fall. It melted immediately upon hitting the sands and the cracked dirt, but it made navigating all the harder.