Revenge and the Wild (27 page)

Perhaps James thought he was far enough away that he was safe. She snuck up to the gathering of trees, treading as lightly as possible. Turning the corner, she found his torch abandoned on the ground and coughed the last of her breath from her lungs.

The scent of spiced cologne reached her before the sound of crackling branches behind her. That was when she knew she’d been
duped. Turning, she came face-to-face with her brother. Seeing him standing there was no surprise, but the sadness wrinkling his mouth was. He was out of breath and holding a branch the size of a club in his hand. She’d been disarmed by the expression on his face, and so the danger hadn’t registered until it was too late. James swung the weapon toward her, its breeze whispering against her skin before hitting the side of her cheek with a crunch.

Something in her jaw gave. She fell to the ground. Pain flared red before her eyes while flashes of light snapped in her peripheral vision. Her breath left her in gushes. James stepped forward until he stood above her. She looked at his feathered edges, struggling to bring his features into focus.

“Ouch,” he said wryly, studying her. “That looks like it hurts.” There was a playful ring to his voice.

Westie reached up to touch her face. Her skin felt tight and achy underneath all the pain. It felt somehow
off
. She tried to talk, but it was difficult. Not only because of the pain it caused, but because her lips didn’t match up.

James knelt down beside her. “It’s too bad it had to end this way. I really didn’t want to hurt you. The old part of me, the boy who was Tripp, secretly hoped we could run away together and go on adventures like we had in the cornfields in Kansas. Do you remember that?”

She would’ve spit curses at him had she been able to move her mouth. Every memory of her childhood would be tainted because of what Tripp had become. Her happy childhood before the journey west felt like a lie.

James tapped the branch against his leg. “I looked up to you, you know. You were so funny, always full of mischief. When we were kids, I wanted to be just like you. I really am sorry for what I have to do. I want to let you go, really I do, but you’re too hardheaded for that. I know you would never stop searching until you found me. If I’m to find a cure for this blasted prairie sickness, I can’t have you on my trail.”

The pain in her jaw bellowed as she opened her mouth to speak. “Are you going to eat me?” The words came out squishy but were easy enough to understand.

His eyes darted between her face and her machine, always on the watch. If her vision had steadied, even only a little, she would’ve battered him with it.

“I thought about it. Some native tribes believe that by eating the heart of one’s enemy they gain his strength. With your heart I could be invincible. But I can’t imagine, even in death, you going down without a fight.” He winked at her. “You’d probably give me a wicked case of indigestion.”

As he stood, Westie could see the regret on his face. He really was sorry. However, that didn’t stop him from lifting the heavy branch above his head.

Tears stung Westie’s eyes. Her little brother, whom she’d spent seven years mourning, had been resurrected and was going to kill her. She doubted she’d survive the attack, but if she did, she really would hunt him down the rest of her years. And even if she didn’t survive, she planned to haunt the little shit.

James’s face was crushed into a look of molten aggression as he brought the branch down. Westie rolled away, hearing the splash of mud when it hit the spot where she’d just been lying. With what little strength Westie had left, she sprang to her feet and swung her machine at him with enough force to kill a vampire. The damage it did to James’s beautiful face left him unrecognizable.

So much for postmortem photographs,
she thought before falling to her knees.

Alistair yelled out her name, but she couldn’t call back. She couldn’t even stay upright. Rolling onto her back, she closed her eyes to fight the nausea she felt. When she opened them again, Alistair’s face floated above her, his head framed with stars.

Westie tried to speak, but all that came out were wet gurgles. She wanted to reach out and hold him, rejoice in their victory. But she couldn’t move. Her eyes couldn’t focus. She felt as if she were on the wrong end of a bola being twirled in the air. Looking at the sky for something solid and unmoving to focus on, she didn’t see any stars. With a sick feeling, she realized it wasn’t just the sky that had gone dark, but her vision too, and then suddenly there was nothing.

Westie opened her eyes in spasms. She was in her room, on her bed. There was a clatter of chairs and shuffling feet as Nigel, Alistair, and Bena swarmed her. She blinked. The first clear memory that came to her was drinking Costin’s blood and the cramping in her stomach. But no, that wasn’t right. That had happened a while back, and her stomach felt fine. It was her jaw that hurt.

Another memory flashed in front of her, as crisp and startling as a slap in the face: Cain with his knife to Alistair’s neck, about to spill his blood until Costin came to his rescue, tearing out Cain’s throat. And then . . .

Westie looked up at the ceiling, at the different patterns in the wood, the knots that looked like screaming mouths. She wanted to join them. It was hard for her to believe that such a short time ago she’d thought of creatures as nothing more than vicious talking
animals put on the earth for her amusement. Never imagined one could be as selfless as Costin. She never could have pictured herself calling one a friend. He had been a friend, though, the best kind, the kind who was there for her even when she didn’t deserve it.

Westie tried to sit up, but the throbbing in her head knocked her back onto her pillow. She tried to speak but couldn’t open her mouth, and all that came out were incoherent mumblings.

“Relax,” Nigel said, peeling a damp cloth from her head. “Don’t move your mouth. Your jaw is broken. I had to wire it shut.”

Had it been any other time, she was sure Alistair would have had something smart to say about that. Instead he stared down at her with open worry, a bandage covering one of his eyes.

Without a voice she had to sign.
Is James dead?
she asked.

Everything had been a blur in those last moments. She wanted to make sure her memories weren’t skewed by the hit she’d taken to the head.

Nigel’s brows came together. “Is James . . . I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

Nigel’s signing was adequate enough, though not fluent, which turned out to be tiresome.

“Dead,” Alistair translated for her. “She wants to know if James is dead.”

“Oh, yes. I’m afraid so,” Nigel said.

Westie closed her eyes and sighed. It was over, finally. James and the Fairfields were dead. She had her revenge, but the loss of Isabelle and Costin made it bittersweet. She opened her eyes and
felt a tear slide down her cheek.

“It must be hard to learn that James was the brother you’d mourned for so long,” Nigel said, confusing the reason for her tears.

She moved her hands in lazy arcs.

“She doesn’t care about James,” Alistair said for her.

It was true. She didn’t care about James. She cared about Tripp, but the real Tripp had died a long time ago, and the man who’d almost killed her was a demon who had possessed her brother’s body. She had already mourned her brother. That time was over, and now she had someone else to grieve for.

She took a breath that whistled through her teeth and tried to gather her emotions. She would mourn Costin on her own time, when there was space to weep without making everyone around her feel uncomfortable.

She signed again, and again Alistair spoke for her. “At least you have the money to finish your machine. Something good has to come from all this madness.”

Optimism hadn’t quite settled in yet, but it didn’t stand a chance once she saw the miserable look on Nigel’s face.

He said, “I’m sad to say the gold is gone.”

What?
she signed in an explosive hand movement that needed no translation. She sprang into a sitting position, ignoring the pain, even though it felt like someone was mining for gold fillings in her teeth.

“Relax before you pop your stitches,” Nigel said.

What happened?
she signed.

It was Bena who answered. “The mayor took the sheriff’s horse and slipped away with the gold during the chaos. He was the least of our concerns.”

Nigel finished by saying, “We haven’t been able to find him. With that amount of gold, it’s doubtful we ever will.”

Westie wanted to crawl under the covers and scream. She didn’t want to believe that her epic search for justice would conclude with the last of the bad guys getting away with the gold meant to save magic.

Her hands felt like clumps of lead as she began to move them.
So that’s it—it’s over?

With slower and more deliberate hand signs, Nigel seemed to understand well enough without Alistair’s help.

“Well, no, not exactly,” Nigel said.

What do you mean?

“I mean I found another investor for my machine.”

What?
Westie didn’t want to get excited for fear of being let down, but she couldn’t help herself.
Who?

She watched Nigel’s mouth, waiting for his lips to open and a miracle to slide out, so when she heard the smooth, rich voice come from the doorway opposite him, she started.

“I’ve been looking for investments,” Costin said. He leaned against the door frame, not a scratch on him. He smiled his arrogant grin when he saw the shocked confusion muddying her features. “What’s the point of being disgustingly wealthy if you can’t brag about all the little people you’ve helped along the way?”

Westie jumped up from her bed, nearly tripping over her sheets,
and threw herself into his arms. His body was cold and stiff and more comforting than she could ever have imagined possible. She held on to him like a vise, with her face against his neck. His cold skin brought some comfort to her aching jaw. After a few minutes in his embrace, she suddenly remembered everyone else in the room and stepped away.

I thought you were dead,
she signed.

“Oh, this is delightful,” he said with a full body laugh. “I don’t suppose it’s permanent?” He pointed to one of the metal wires that stuck out of her mouth and curled around her bottom lip in a decorative loop.

She hit him in the chest with her machine, nearly knocking him to the ground, unperturbed by his teasing.

Alistair laughed too until she turned her glare on him. He cleared his throat. “She wants to know how you survived.”

Costin’s laughter trailed off, but his smile remained. “I’m not exactly sure, but I believe Bena had something to do with it.”

Westie looked curiously over at Bena, whose cheeks were the color of overripe peaches.
Embarrassed,
Westie thought with some amusement. The only other time she’d seen her friend that ruffled was when Bena had let it slip that she had feelings for Nigel.

Bena raised her chin as if that might drain the blush from her cheeks. “Big Fish has informed me that I will succeed her as chief when the time comes. She has been helping me to talk to the spirits. I was able to reverse the effect the protection ward had on the vampire before it was too late.”

Westie didn’t ask Bena why she had kept such important news about becoming the next chief from her. It didn’t matter. All Westie cared about was that her family was with her.

I don’t have to tell you how glad I am the two of you saved us, and that Costin is alive,
Westie signed
, but how did you find us out there?

Alistair translated for her.

Bena said, “The sheriff sent for us as backup when he received your telegraph bird. Unfortunately, he was closer to the mine than we were and went in without us.”

Westie pulled her fingers through her hair with a trembling hand. Nothing had gone according to plan, but it could’ve gone so much worse. A heavy fog of relief settled over her. Her family was safe and Costin was alive. That was all she wanted to think about.

Westie had Jezebel and Lucky on leashes standing between Alistair and Nigel in a large gathering in front of the mayor’s mansion in Sacramento. There was a slight breeze, but not a cloud in the sky. Folks from all over had flooded into the north valley to hear Costin, the new mayor of the Sacramento Valley—and first creature to ever become an elected official—speak.

Costin wore his authority well. He stood on a platform with Bena and Emma, hands clasped behind his back. The Wintu made up a large portion of the crowd. Now that the old mayor had been replaced, there was no one to keep the the tribe out of the city. Once folks had learned it was the Wintu who were responsible for the magic ward that would keep their town safe, they didn’t seem to mind the
tribe’s presence—even if they did stand feet away.

Westie laced her fingers with Alistair’s and leaned into his ear so she could whisper.

“Isn’t it something to have a creature as our new mayor?”

It had been six months since her broken jaw, yet it still clicked every time she opened her mouth. She didn’t care about that, though, and was just thankful to have kept all her teeth.

Alistair touched the small of her back and rubbed slow circles as he spoke, a new habit of his that Westie adored.

“Something indeed,” he said. “It’s too bad what happened to the old one.”

A smile grazed Westie’s lips. “Sure is. Bandits can be mean ol’ suckers, can’t they? I do wonder who will change his diapers while he’s convalescing.”

Costin went on to finish his speech about the machine, about mankind and creaturekind coming together, and how Nigel’s invention was a symbol of hope and tolerance. He told the people it was a step closer to a united America, where humans and creatures might one day live in a world without the need of wards.

Westie thought he was full of shit, but it was a nice speech nonetheless. When Costin finished speaking, he stepped back and let Bena take center stage. She took a nugget of gold the size of a marble and placed it inside the machine’s amplifying compartment, then began to speak the words of the Wintu incantation.

Westie squeezed Alistair’s hand. It was Emma’s first time out.

When Bena was finished, she stepped back. Westie held her
breath. At first nothing happened, and worried murmurs skittered across the crowd, but then the trees around them started to turn blue, the color starting from the base and rising up to fill the leaves. Westie looked up when the sky took on an opalescent skin as the magic dome materialized over the town. Laughter and applause broke out all around her, and finally, for the first time in a long time, Westie could breathe again.