Tin Swift (43 page)

There was nothing they could do to hide the five-pointed star branded into his forehead, other than see it healed properly. He would carry that scar to his grave.

While he hadn’t exactly taken his injuries gracefully, after spending three days drinking and coming up with new cuss words for Alabaster Saint’s damned soul—an activity that his crew, and the Madder brothers, had joined in quite readily—he had shouldered the fact that he would never have his full eyesight again. Nor go unnoticed as the president’s man.

As for having Rose at his side, leaning on him, well, he didn’t look one bit upset about that.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to support you a bit more, Rose?” he asked. “Perhaps my arm around your waist?”

“Like yesterday?” Rose asked.

“Yesterday?” he asked glibly.

“Yesterday. When you helped me,” she said. “If you thought you were putting your hands on my waist, you need a refresher on body parts, Paisley.”

He stopped cold and Rose was forced to stop too. “What?” she said,
searching his face. “Are you all right? Your eye. Is it hurting again? The scar? Do you need the medicine?”

“Who,” he bit off, “told you my name is Paisley?”

Rose’s look of concern slid into one of wide-eyed innocence, though she was having a hard time keeping a smile off her face. “I’m not sure I recall. It must have been one of the crew.”

“Seldom,” Hink groused. “That man talks too much.”

“It’s a lovely name,” Rose continued as they got back to walking. “And a lovely fabric. Why I’ve always admired paisley dresses, haven’t you, Mae? They’re so…frilly.”

“Yes,” Mae agreed. “Very pretty.”

“My mother,” he said through his teeth, “happened to like paisley. She had this one dress, given to her by a man who—” He shut his mouth.

“A man who what?” Rose asked.

“A man who—” Hink narrowed his eye as if just figuring her game. “Never mind what the man did, all right now? I prefer you use ‘Lee’ when you address me.”

“What? Not ‘Captain’ or ‘Marshal’ or perhaps ‘lord king of all the land’?”

“Well, I’d never stop a woman from calling me king.”

“King Paisley,” Rose mused. “Certainly has a ring to it.”

“Forget it,” he said, blowing out his breath. “You may call me Captain Hink. And not a syllable more.”

“Didn’t mean for you to get all flustered,” Rose continued mercilessly. “It’s just so difficult to sort through all your names. And you’re sure there aren’t some other things you’d like me to call you?”

“I can think of several things I’d like to hear on your lips,” he said with a wicked grin, holding her gaze as he helped her sit in the other chair near the fire. “But not in polite company, my dear.”

Rose’s cheeks flamed red. “Oh,” she managed.

Hink walked over to the fire, looking pleased as punch at securing Rose’s silence.

“Were you looking for me?” Mae asked.

“Yes,” Rose said, jumping on the change of subject. “We were. I know it hasn’t been very long since we’ve been here, and the road was…hard.”

Hink crouched down at the hearth and used the poker to rearrange the wood and ashes. Molly’s death weighed heavily on him. He had refused to talk about it, or her.

“Hard on all of us,” Rose amended. “This”—she waved toward her left side, where the Holder still capped her shoulder beneath her dress—“it’s not the most worrisome thing that’s happened, but I don’t want to carry it all my life. It’s a part of a weapon an awful lot of folk want their hands on. I’d rather be quit of it, if I can.”

“We don’t know what will happen if we try to remove it, Rose,” Mae said. “Even the Madders aren’t sure what will happen.”

“I know,” Rose said, pulling a small hook and yarn out of her pocket and stitching along the row to keep her fingers busy. It looked like she was crocheting a soft rope. Maybe an eye patch for the captain. “But I also know we won’t find out what’s going to happen unless we try. There isn’t anyone in the world who’s ever had a thing like this.”

“So what are you asking, Rose?”

“I’m asking you to help remove it.” She pulled on the yarn and rewound the thread through her fingers, stitching on again. “I don’t know what else to do,” she said softly. “You can bind things, join things. I was hoping you could unbind the Holder from me.”

Mae wanted to tell her no. That asking the sisters for help with magic might come at too high a cost. But there simply wasn’t anyone else, and certainly not anyone here, who could even attempt to unbind the Holder.

And it wasn’t the only magic that Mae needed to do. She had bound Hink to his ship, so much so that the damage the ship received echoed through him. In a very real way, he shared the
Swift
’s pain. A condition she was sure he was eager to be done with.

She had also promised Cedar and Wil that she would try to break the curse the native gods had placed upon them.

She hadn’t been strong enough to attempt that alone, back in Hallelujah. But now she was home, surrounded by twenty-five women skilled in magic. She would see that it was done, no matter what Miss Adaline wanted from her.

Rose waited, letting Mae think it through.

Hink leaned his good elbow on the mantel above the hearth, and let his gaze shift between Rose and the windows on the far side of the room, caught in his own thoughts. He was much quieter these days.

“I’ll do what I can,” Mae said. And at Rose’s obvious relief she added, “We’ll find a way to free you of it. There’s no need for you to fret.”

“Thank you,” Rose said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be willing. And so soon. It will be soon, right?”

“Tonight, I think,” Mae said. “I’ll go talk to the sisters about it. Then we’ll take care of this.”

Mae stood. “I’ll see about the preparations.” As she left the room, the sound of Hink’s voice, then Rose’s laughter followed her.

Rose was brimming with hopefulness. She knew she had a second chance at life after coming so very close to death, and it looked like she intended to live it to the fullest.

Maybe Mae needed to start looking on the bright side herself. After all, she was a witch. A very powerful witch. And while it might have been her magic that had harmed her friends, it would be her magic that saved them as well.

C
edar stood out on the porch of the gathering hall, looking across the coven’s fields to the orchards turning silver-orange in the setting sun. He still hurt if he moved too quickly, his ribs catching at simple movements. His neck and face were still so sore that he had a constant ache in his head.

The sisters had been surprised when the ships dropped anchor over their north field a week or so ago, but they had welcomed Mae and all the others in out of the rain and wind. They’d found a bed for everyone, and put their best healers to soothe the wounded.

The dead were wrapped in clean blankets and buried beneath the apple orchard with soft prayers. Miss Dupuis had stayed out by Theobald’s grave for a day and night before coming back into the houses.

Tonight, Wil sat beside Cedar, silent as only a wolf can be, listening, just as Cedar was listening to the women who had been called from the surrounding acres, preparing for Mae to unbind the Holder.

He’d asked Mae if she was recovered enough to use magic again, and she’d avoided his eyes before answering him. He didn’t know what it was about this place, but it made him uncomfortable.

Mae seemed uncomfortable too. Angry.

Alun Madder strolled up in front of the porch, the cherry-scented
smoke from his pipe curling around his head. “You still owe us that promise, Mr. Hunt.”

“Which promise, Mr. Madder?” Cedar asked. “That I hunt the Holder for you so long as our roads remained the same?”

“That’s the one.”

“Found it. The Holder’s right back there in that room, attached to Miss Rose Small.”

Alun leaned on the outside of the porch rail, his back to Cedar so he too could stare out at the sunset. “That’s one piece of it. One out of seven. It’s a good start, but it doesn’t make your promise to us fulfilled.”

“I killed Mr. Shunt,” Cedar noted.

“That you did. But if you think his hands are the worst that the Holder can fall into, you are misunderstanding our problem.”

Cedar crossed his arms carefully over his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me about the others who were fighting the Strange, like Miss Dupuis, Mr. Theobald, and Miss Wright?”

Alun puffed on his pipe for a bit. The sun was nearly down, just a slight glow of deep red smudging the clouds at the horizon.

“Didn’t think you’d believe me,” Alun said. “Or my brothers. Didn’t think you would join us. It’s a select group, Mr. Hunt. Vowed to keep the land safe from the kinds of things you hunt. Strange things. All good people who would stand beside you, fight beside you.”

“Die beside me.”

“That too,” Alun agreed.

“I’ve seen enough dying to last my years,” Cedar said. “I’m not the man you need. Once this curse is off me, I won’t feel the hunger to hunt any Strange thing. And I’ll be glad for it.”

Alun grunted in agreement. Then, “You recall that town we rode into a few weeks back? Vicinity, up Idaho way?”

“Yes.”

“All those people dead. Unalives. Men and women and children.
Dead because just one piece of the Holder landed on their town. There’s still six pieces of it out there. Stirring up six different hells.”

Alun pushed off the porch rail and turned toward him as he started up the stairs. He walked past Cedar to the door, where he paused.

“People are going to die in great numbers while we track down the pieces of the Holder,” he said. “That’s just the facts of it. And not all of the people out looking for the Holder together can find those pieces as quickly as you and your brother can.

“The curse laid upon you, Mr. Hunt, might be seen as a blessing. Especially from the perspective of the people in the path of the Holder’s destruction. People you could save.”

Cedar heard the approach of footsteps from inside the building.

“Mr. Hunt? Oh, Mr. Madder,” the elder sister, Miss Adaline, called out as she opened the door. “I didn’t expect you on the threshold. Come in, please.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Alun said.

“Are you coming, Mr. Hunt?” she asked. “The sisters have gathered and the sun’s gone down. If you’d like to be present for Miss Small, now’s the time. We’ll be sealing the doors and windows shortly.”

Cedar took a breath and looked over at Miss Adaline. She was old enough to be his mother, he supposed, and still held some beauty to her features. But there was something about her that sat wrong with him. A cunning to her eye he could not ignore.

She was the kind of woman he would not turn his back on for long.

Mae had said she and the sisters had agreed to try to break his curse. Could try to break Wil’s curse too. It was what he had wanted. It was a part of why he had accompanied Mae to the coven.

Only a part of the reason, but still, he’d thought of nothing but being free of the curse since the day he’d woken up fevered, near dead, and covered in blood he thought was his brother’s.

But Alun’s words hung heavy on his mind.

If what he had said was true, then breaking the curse would be dooming hundreds, maybe thousands to suffer from the Holder.

“Mr. Hunt,” Miss Adaline said, “are you well?”

“No,” he said honestly, before he remembered his manners. He swallowed, and took his hat off his head, running his fingers along the brim as he pulled himself together. “Thank you, though,” he said, “for your concern.”

She gave him a tight smile. “Of course. Now come in from the cold. We’ll all have something joyous to celebrate soon.”

Wil stood, and pressed his head under Cedar’s hand. He knew what Cedar was thinking, had heard and understood every word Alun had said.

And he knew what Cedar had decided.

“We deserve a little joy,” Cedar said.

“Always, Mr. Hunt,” she said. “And I’ve found there’s not any dark circumstance that doesn’t hold a glimmer of happiness.”

He nodded, then he and Wil, together, walked into the gathering.

O
ne thing Rose had not expected was for magic to make her sneeze. But the sisters had set all sorts of herbs burning and sprinkled more in water, and even rubbed oil and herbs gently on her wrists, forehead and over her heart. All together the smoke and greenness made her eyes water and her nose tickle.

She tried not to sneeze, as she supposed it took away from what appeared to be a very serious ceremony. But holding her breath would go only so far, after all.

So when she thought no one was looking, she rubbed at her nose and wiped her eyes.

A muffled chuckle made her glance at Captain Hink. He, of course, had been staring at her the whole time.

She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

“Let us begin,” Miss Adaline said.

Rose sat a little straighter in the chair situated in the middle of the gathering hall. The sisters, not all of whom lived here and tended the farm, surrounded her in a wide circle.

The rest of the people in attendance—Cedar Hunt, Wil, the Madders, Miss Dupuis, Miss Wright, and Mr. Seldom—were scattered about the room.

It made Rose nervous to be the center of attention of so much magic.
But it was also exciting. Here she was, Rose Small, in the middle of a circle of witches, about to get some strange device unstuck from her shoulder.

She should jot this all down in a letter to Mr. Gregor back in Hallelujah. He had wanted to hear about her travels and adventures. Maybe she’d leave out the almost dying part, but she thought he’d like to know where she had been. Airships, mountains, and now, Kansas.

She wanted to tell him she’d met Molly, and how wonderful and strong and kind she was and how bravely she’d died. She had known her so briefly, but was going to miss her keenly.

The sisters began singing. It was a soft, rising song. Rose didn’t understand everything that was happening, but the song was nice, and when Mae walked behind her and placed her hand on the Holder, it was almost as if the entire song flowed through her hand.

Warmth rolled like a warm wind across her body. Rose had been told to just stay still and relax. But the warmth was heating up, becoming uncomfortable.