Tin Swift (42 page)

She was breathing, but didn’t stir.

A startled cry filled the room, and was quickly smothered out.

“Joonie!” Miss Dupuis said.

Cedar turned, but his nose, his ears told him what was happening before his eyes confirmed it.

Mr. Shunt stood in the doorway, Joonie Wright’s back pressed hard against him. Three of his long, knobby fingers pressed over her mouth, the razor-sharp point of his index finger poised over her eye.

He must have climbed the anchor line, even though that was nearly an impossible thing.

But then, Mr. Shunt himself was a nearly impossible thing.

They had called the Holder, and Shunt had followed.

Cedar and Mae were the only two people at the head of the ship. Of the people toward the rear of the ship, Wil stood nearest Shunt, hands loose at his side, head bent, so he looked up through his hair at the monster. He might be standing in a man’s skin, but it was wolf and rage that filled him now.

Cedar knew exactly what Wil was going to do. He was going to kill Shunt.

But not if Cedar killed Shunt first.

“Give the witch to me, Hunter,” Shunt crooned. “Or this woman will die.” He twitched his pinky and Joonie gasped as blood spilled down her neck.

Cedar didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. If he did, Shunt would slit her throat.

“The witch,” Shunt hissed. “Now.” He jerked his ring finger across Joonie’s mouth.

She screamed as he sliced her lips open.

Miss Dupuis already had her hand on her gun. So did Ansell, Seldom, and Guffin.

But no one could shoot Shunt without hurting Joonie.

“You want the witch?” Cedar said, shifting his shoulders so that Shunt could better see Mae lying helpless and unconscious in the cot. “Come take her from me.”

Shunt was fast.

So was everyone else on the ship.

Cedar felt like time wound down, slow, slow, slow.

Wil, faster even than Cedar, leaped at Shunt, gun already firing at his head.

Shunt flicked a silver blade from his cuff. The blade struck Wil in the chest.

Thread spooled out of Shunt’s other hand to cinch around Joonie’s neck. Then he shoved her at Wil.

Joonie, eyes wide, collided with Wil.

As Shunt ran for Mae.

Shunt yanked the thread. Joonie’s head snapped back just as Wil caught her in his arms and they both went down.

The crew of the ship unloaded their guns. Into the doorframe, into the shelves, into the wall where Shunt had been just an instant before.

Shunt always one inch ahead of each shot.

The three Madders each pulled out devised weapons. Light blew through the ship. Sound rocked the sky and deafened. Lightning licked across metal lashing for Shunt. Any one of those weapons was enough to kill him. And not one of them could.

Shunt was too fast.

And besides, Shunt was Cedar’s to kill.

Cedar ran straight at him.

He pulled his gun as Wil yelled his name. As the Madders reloaded their weapons. As the crew cursed and fired again.

Cedar caught the lapel of Shunt’s coat. Yanked so hard, Shunt spun sideways toward him. Cedar muscled him into the gun in his fist.

Cedar was still running, pushing Shunt back toward the door. He shoved the barrel of the gun into Mr. Shunt’s chest as far as it could go.

And pulled the trigger.

Shunt staggered back, too many arms, too many joints, too many blades and fingers and teeth cutting, digging, squirming to try to get away from Cedar.

But Cedar would not let go of the monster.

Shunt smashed his fist into Cedar’s face, fingers digging for his eyes.

Cedar fired again. Shunt’s hand jerked away from his face.

Wil was moving. Almost on his feet. He had no weapons.

Cedar glanced at him. He was bleeding, his arm hanging broken at his side. Cedar knew his brother had a plan. And he knew it would be suicide.

Shunt shoved his fingers up under Cedar’s ribs, slicing, stabbing through muscle and scraping against bone.

Cedar yelled at the pain, but did not let go. He pushed. Ran. Pounded toward the door. Squeezed the trigger again, the gun slick with Shunt’s blood and oil.

With his blood too.

Wil yelled something, a strangled cry. But Cedar would not let his brother die.

This was his fight.

Shunt threw a vicious kick at Cedar’s leg.

Cedar felt bone crack.

Two more steps to the door.

One more.

Then there was no ground beneath his feet.

There was nothing but wind and night and the monster, Mr. Shunt,
squirming and flailing beneath him, his eyes, his inhuman Strange face filled with fear.

Cedar laughed and fired every bullet in the gun.

Shunt screamed as bullet after bullet tore holes through him faster than he could stitch them up.

They fell. Together. Forever. The ships spun above them, the ground spun beneath them, the wind burned like frozen blades.

Cedar ran out of bullets. He let go of his gun and drew his knife instead.

Shunt sliced at him, biting, tearing at Cedar like a wild animal.

Shunt was very much not dead yet. But Cedar was going to make sure he accomplished that one thing before they both hit the ground.

He stabbed the knife into Shunt’s chest, digging for something vital, something fatal he could cut off, pry loose, destroy.

The blade struck something in the center of his chest and Cedar jimmied it loose.

It popped free and metal wings, gold and crystal, like a clockwork bee or dragonfly zipped past his face.

Mr. Shunt stilled, stiffened. His eyes were no longer filled with fear. They were filled with hatred. “Die,” he exhaled.

Cedar just kept stabbing, digging, pulling out cog, bone, and flesh.

Until Mr. Shunt suddenly lay into the wind, arms spread wide, head thrown back.

And even though Cedar was holding on to his coat, Mr. Shunt shattered, blowing apart into a thousand oily pieces that sifted like pebbles through his fingers.

Cedar yelled out his rage, wanting Shunt’s blood, wanting to snap every bone in his damn body, wanting to feel him die again and again.

A cannon blast from high above him clapped across the mountains.

Then a thousand whips, no, ropes, flew past him. He heard the fans of the ship roar, as if the vessel were turning hard and fast. Then those ropes were right below him, forming a net with bolos weighting it. A net
that pulled open and created a wall between him and the ground rushing up at him.

Cedar hit that net like a man striking stone. The ropes lashed around him, closed tight, and slammed his fall to a stop so quickly he heard his nose break, felt his ribs snap, heard his neck crack. And then he blacked out.

D
aylight and the drone of fans woke Cedar from a deep sleep. That, and pain.

“Morning, Mr. Hunt.” Alun Madder leaned forward in the chair, puffing on his pipe.

Cedar tried to moisten his mouth. Didn’t work. “Mae?”

“Sleeping right over there in the cot you set her in. Rose is sleeping too. So are Captain Hink and Joonie Wright. All of them getting along well enough.”

Wil, in wolf form now that it was daylight, lifted his head from where he was lying on the floor beside Cedar. His old copper eyes burned with accusation. There was no blood on him. That was the one good thing about the curse. Injuries healed quickly.

But from Wil’s gaze Cedar knew he’d be spending the night apologizing to his brother for jumping out of the ship.

“I’m thinking those native gods should have given you wings instead of fur, Mr. Hunt, the way you dove into the night. For a second there, I supposed you thought you could fly.”

Cedar pushed up, only made it halfway before his ribs sent hot licks of pain through him. His head felt heavy and his neck hurt. So did every other damn inch of him.

Wil growled.

Cedar lay back down and Wil stopped growling.

“We’re under way?” he asked.

Alun reached into his voluminous overcoat, pulled out a flask and offered it to him. “Bryn’s towing the
Swift
.”

“Where?” Cedar asked.

Alun nodded to the flask and Cedar took a swig. Moonshine burned like lightning down to the soles of his feet.

He exhaled as the heat spread over his muscles and out to the tip of each finger. He took a second swallow, then handed it back to Alun.

“Kansas. I hear it’s lovely this time of year,” Alun said.

“Thank you,” Cedar said.

“Oh, it is my pleasure, Mr. Hunt. My pleasure.” Alun took a swallow of the hooch, then stood up. “Sleep yourself out. We’ve a while of sky ahead of us.”

Cedar closed his eyes. He didn’t think sleep would claim him, but the constant hum of the fans and the rocking of the
Swift
sent him down the path soon enough.

M
ae sat in the rocking chair near the hearth of the coven’s gathering hall. The familiar smells of her childhood surrounded her. She was home. And it was suddenly the last place she wanted to be.

Miss Adaline, the current matron of the coven, stood near the window with a cup of tea in her hand. “You have exposed us, Mae Rowan.”

“Lindson,” Mae said quietly. “Mrs. Lindson.”

Miss Adaline was a wide woman, with gray hair pulled back tight and up into a bun on her head. She wore a soft shawl the color of wheat over her shoulders, and her modest day dress was deep forest green, seamed to give her figure the best advantage. She was unmarried, and monied by her father’s investments in the wars.

She had been a force in Mae’s life when she was younger. And she had not lost her command in the years that had passed.

Miss Adaline turned. She had the kind of beauty men would turn their heads for, even now at her age. But there was no kindness behind that beauty. Not for Mae.

“You have told outsiders we are witches. You have put our sisterhood in danger.”

Mae waited. She didn’t know what to say. It was true. But she could not change what had happened.

“Before you left the coven, it was suggested we cast you out. We knew you would bring trouble upon us. In these most unsettled times.”

“I meant no harm,” Mae said softly.

“And yet you have caused harm.” Miss Adaline sighed. “It was my voice that raised on your behalf all those years ago. I thought your love of Mr. Lindson would keep you…far from us. And yet you return.”

She made it sound like it was Mae’s fault. Like Mae was some kind of bad penny she could not be rid of.

Mae prickled. “I was not the one who cast the spell to bind me to coven soil. I would not have come of my own volition.”

Miss Adaline took a sip of tea, her brown eyes sharp. “That was sister Virginia’s idea. She always worried you’d be alone and astray in the world. Of course, she thought that of any wild thing.”

Mae stood out of the chair. “I am not a wild thing. You have made it clear I am no longer welcome here. I will leave as soon as my companions are recovered enough to travel. And,” Mae said walking across the room to her elder, “I will break my ties to this coven. But only if the sisters assist me in breaking the curse on Mr. Hunt and his brother, and in healing Rose.”

“We will want something in return.”

Mae literally took half a step back, shocked. “Is that the way of the coven now? Bargaining for your advantage?”

“The war has changed us all, Mae Rowan. Time has changed us all. We adapt, and we survive.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to cast a spell for me.”

Mae shook her head, but just then the front door opened and one of the younger sisters she didn’t know stepped in. “Miss Adaline, the supplies from town have come and there is some mail for you. It looks official.”

Adaline smiled and it seemed that warmth filled up the hard edges of her. “Thank you, Becky. Take it to my room, please. I’ll be there shortly.”

Becky shut the door.

“We will speak later.” Adaline crossed the room to the other door, and left Mae standing with nothing but her doubts and anger.

The sisters had almost killed her trying to bring her home. Yes, she’d agreed to let them bind her blood to the soil of the coven, but she had never agreed that they could torture her as she tried to find her way home.

She could have died. Rose, Captain Cage, Wil, and Cedar, all could have died. She didn’t know if the sisters intentions were to kill others, but they had clearly not cared if they killed her.

The travelers had spent the last week at the coven, resting. The sisters had left them mostly alone, though warm meals were provided.

She, however, was an outsider. Feared.

Mae had spent the last week trying to find forgiveness in her heart. But this place that she had always thought would be home to her was spoiled now. Closed. They did not want her here.

She didn’t want to remain.

A woman’s soft laughter and a man’s low tone echoed from the hallway connecting the gathering hall to the guest rooms.

Rose and Captain Cage had been nearly inseparable.

Mae smiled despite her sour mood. She had to admit their courtship made her happy for both of them, but most especially for Rose.

“Mae,” Rose said, walking into the room. “We hoped we’d find you here.” Rose was moving slowly, as if her feet dragged a great weight behind them. But her color was better, the tin having faded from her face and neck, though there was still a sheen of silver to her skin and hair.

The sisters had very few guesses as to how to help Rose. It wasn’t magic, exactly, that was plaguing her, nor exactly a physical ailment.

Strangeworked devices were well outside the realms of their spell craft.

“Where else would I be?” Mae meant it to be teasing, as she’d found
herself here, by the fire at all hours of the day and night. But her words came out with the bitterness of someone sentenced to pace the same cell for the rest of her life.

“Well, it’s a lovely place, and everyone has been so pleasant,” Rose said. “You could be almost anywhere.” She was leaning on Hink’s arm pretty heavily as she made her way across the room.

Hink had recovered from most of his injuries to the point that he was moving smoothly. All, that is, except for his broken arm and missing eye. He wore a soft cloth over the eye, with a bandage messing up his hair a bit as it held the patch in place and covered the burn on his forehead. Once both the eye wound and the brand on his forehead were less sensitive, they’d fashion a patch, which he would wear for the rest of his life.