The Rail Specter

by Vennessa Robertson

  Whatever we were going to do, we needed to do it now. The figure forming behind Geiger was indeed the wendigo. The longer we delayed, the more solid its smoky, wavering form became. It took a bobbing step toward us, its hollow, gleaming eyes staring at us, amused, hungry, hunting like a cat waiting for the mouse to run.

  Nate was not going to wait another moment. Transfiguring into another form was uncomfortable, no matter which form he chose, because both bone and flesh had to reorder themselves into either dog or canithrope. He generally groaned, doubled over from the colic-like pain of it but, this time, rage and maybe fear drove him.

  Here, on the path to Seana, he was more. There were no words to describe it accurately. The canithrope form was larger, but back in our world it always had a shaggy, unkempt quality to it. Here, his fur was darker, sleeker, and shinier. The form underneath was stronger, more sinewy. Nate crouched, snarling at the skeletal monster.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  NATE CHARGED INTO the wendigo, his massive claws flying, littering the ground with bits of shattered bone and rotting black fur. This may be the domain of the wendigo, but it was also a place of great magic, where spirits had sway, and whatever linked Nate and his dog, Ranger, was just as powerful as the evil of the wendigo. The soul-drinker had no power over Nate here. They were evenly matched.

  The wendigo was stunned, if such a creature of evil could be stunned, and Nate was all too happy to take advantage of its hesitation. He struck a flurry of vicious blows, an avenging force for all those whom the wendigo and Geiger had murdered.

  Geiger stood, similarly stunned, that his monster was ineffective against Nate. But there was no way I was about to let the sinner that held this monster’s chain escape. He had me to contend with.

  “Mr. Geiger!”

  He tore his eyes from the battle before him with great difficulty. “Miss Harper.”

  I raised my chin. He may have banished my papa, but he would not banish me. “It is Mrs. Valentine now.”

  “Of course.” Mr. Geiger smiled. The light caught his pockmarked face, casting shadows over his features, making him look moth-eaten and hollow.

  “Leave now,” I commanded. I was proud my voice didn’t shake.

  “Stupid girl, if all you want to do is talk, ask me ‘why’?” Geiger said.

  No, I knew why. He believed we ruined him, and in a way, he was right. Whatever plans he had had for the machine beneath Sterling’s factory, for the leywell, we had ruined. Whatever he had planned for Xihuan-Lung’s bones or the arrow that Hou Yi shot to slay the mighty dragon, we had ruined. Whatever he had promised Mr. Cassatt of the Pennsylvania Railroad, it was either an empty promise or one he had never intended to deliver.

  “No,” I said. “You are a murderer.”

  He laughed. A deep laugh that chilled me. “I am that, and more. But come, one more will be a small thing.” He pulled his hand back, drawing on some foul power within him, twisted his body, and wound himself like a great spring. He whipped forward, his silver arm suddenly glowing hot, as a great gout of flame shot out.

  I dodged. Barely. What was that?

  There was no reasoning with a monster. There was no reasoning with the devil.

  There was no Tarot card I could draw to mind that could act as a shield.

  Dodging again would buy me nothing, and it would only take one slip-up for me to end up dead. If I died here, I was dead forever. I dove for him and we collided with a thud. If I could not win one way, it was time to get creative.

  In our free time on the estate, Nate had taught me pugilism. And I was nothing, if not an earnest student.

  My foot shot out and I caught Geiger at the side of the knee. He went down hard. His metal arm clubbed me in the chest, knocking the wind from me. I struggled to stand. I was an easy target now, and he knew it. Geiger knelt over me, his metal arm ready to conjure more fire, and at this distance, he could not miss. I was frantic. How had he learned to conjure fire?

  Then it hit me! He managed to get inside his machine as the factory was burning and the machine was enveloped with leywell magic. He harnessed fire through the magic we had exposed him to.

  I would have to fight with my heart. I closed my eyes and forced a slow breath into my body. The Wheel of Fortune. Everything has its turn. I was not done yet.

  I forced another breath into my lungs; I would not die this way.

  Geiger hovered over me. I was still on my back. I could feel my seax digging into my back. I rolled up on my side and stabbed it hard into his bent thigh. He howled and fell backward. The conjured fire blasted away, high above us, like a signal flare.

  He screamed in rage and jerked the blade free.

  I conjured up the image of The Tower, huge and crumbling, as the lightning strike of unexpected circumstance sent the people at the top scrambling. It wasn’t much, but it was shelter.

  A pillar of rock shot up between us, nearly taking my head off, immediately creating a barrier between Geiger and myself.

  There was no way it should have worked like that, but a tower it was, made of shimmering slate like the stone beneath my feet, with shadowed depressions along the sides, squared and evenly placed. Those would be the windows, affording a commanding view of the land around it.

  The symbol for The Tower on my torso was suddenly hot. Maybe here it did work like this. Suddenly, this was a fight I could win. I smiled.

  Towers fell, that was the nature of change, the nature of control. The Magician unites all four elements to bridge the world between the spirit and the world of humanity. Concentration, resourcefulness, control. There were typically so many meanings but, right now, a literal meaning was best: balance and focus. In this place of amplified magic, I could unite elements and bend them to my will. I was the magician, here.

  Geiger gave a scream of rage. The stone tower shuddered as he attacked it from the other side. He would tear the tower down to get to me.

  I glanced over to Nate. He and the wendigo were locked in a battle of furious blows. Nate, in his canithrope skin, snarled, thick slaver dripping from his snarling maw, his ears pinned back in canine fury. They circled each other, sizing one another up. Then they crashed into one another in a bedlam of fur and hammering claws and teeth. Nate could handle himself. I needed to worry about Geiger.

  A mad giggle escaped my lips. Oh, was that all? I had only to defeat a maniac consumed with hate, wielding fire, and with a monster at his beck and call. Focus, Vivian!

  I didn’t have the ruby anymore, so focusing great blasts of fire or light to just blast Geiger into oblivion was beyond me now. I doubted using fire against him would work, in any case.

  Could I be more literal? The Magician united elemental forces to create magic. In fact, it was one of the most basic lessons of druidic magic. The minor arcana, the suits of the Tarot, were deliberately aligned with the elements. Pentacles were earth, swords air, wands fire, cups water, and the suit of cups lay beneath the skin of my right arm, all of them from The King of Cups at my shoulder to the Ace in my palm. It was worth a shot.

  My tower of gleaming stone finally had all the punishment it could take. With a mighty crack, not unlike the lightning in the card’s image, the stone yielded to Geiger’s assault and came tumbling down. My tower threw no cloud of dust. It was not natural stone.

  In this flat slate landscape under the orange sky, there was nowhere to go.

  Geiger panted as he stepped through the rubble. “You. Stupid. Bitch.”

  I backed up a step, I couldn’t help it. He radiated such raw hatred that it was frightening, even with a plan. His metal arm glowed, and in its menacing light the sweat on his face gave him a demonic glow that was almost as threatening than the wendigo.

  He stalked toward me, one measured step after another, his metal fist glowing. I swallowed hard. I was running out of space. I did not want to run into the black lake where Mehne had disappeared. I changed direction and lured him to follow me.

  Let this work. Let this work. Let
this work. The thought repeated in my brain. I took a deep calming breath. I imagined water, clear and cold, flowing over rocks from a sacred spring. Water, warm and wonderful from a hot tap in a bath. Water, hot from a kettle. Water in a bucket from the wells of the earth, water flooding the streets and gutters of London, trickling off the leaves and plants as the earth welcomed the deluge of the weather. All these things were the power of the water, the comfort, and the majesty. I brought all the imagery I could think of to mind. My palm grew wet, as though I held an overflowing cup.

  It was a wonderful start, but I needed more.

  I closed my eyes. I forgot Geiger. I forced Nate and the wendigo from my mind, difficult as it was. Water was more than a gentle thing. Water was the power of a roaring river, it was creativity, it was fantasy, and it was all the mind could imagine. Water was emotion. It was hate, but it was also love. Love is the most powerful emotion, certainly more powerful than hate. I took a deep breath. If I couldn’t stop Geiger, he would kill me. He would kill Nate.

  I felt it. Deep, flowing through me in waves, moving with me like my heartbeat. I opened my eyes and turned to face him head-on. I needed to face him with my full heart. I raised my right arm to my chest. This power did not consume me as the ruby had. This was from within me; this would not harm me.

  My arm burned as all the cups were suddenly thrust to the surface at once. They united and glowed blue, as water emerged from the elemental world and channeled to this place. It flowed through my own body with such force that I was bent forward. I tried to dig my toes into the slick slate to keep my footing. One foot slid backward. I stubbornly held on.

  Geiger took the full blast of the water in the chest. It threw him backward, flinging him into the rubble of the shattered tower. He gave a strangled cry, his arm steaming in the water, growing into a lake that spread out across the slate. It looked just like the night sky, punctuated with tiny stars, beautiful and hypnotic.

  I was pleased with myself.

  The water shimmered, it was no longer the still night sky. Geiger, like some demon newly risen from hell, struggled to his feet. Battered and bruised, he bled from a gash that ran down the left side of his face. The blood mingled with the water, creating red rivulets. He whipped from one side to the other, thrashing like a wounded boar.

  My mouth grew dry. The water had been my best weapon, and it hadn’t been enough.

  If I could alter the rules of this world, then Geiger could, too. A bolt of fire crashed into me like a great spear. I did not have time to think as my world exploded into a bloom of pain and fire. My face. My hair. My skin. I rolled, desperately beating at the flames. I tried not to scream. I needed to breathe, but I could not risk sucking in flames. All I was able to do was exhale. I heard myself scream, high and thin, a scream that did not sound anything like my own voice. The world spun; I lost focus.

  Be strong, said a voice I had never heard before. The High Priestess, a gracious guardian of the unconscious sitting at the veil of awareness and all that separates us from the real and the world of intuition, the world of things we can sense but not always see. I rarely drew this card in readings; I rarely encountered her in life. She was always a herald of some great power, for good or ill. When last I encountered her, she was inverse and Nate and I were about to meet a creature intent on regaining her stolen power, even if it meant burning the world to nothing. Now she stood, radiant and warm, upright and welcoming. A promise of the light to come.

  The High Priestess spread wide her robes and when she let them fall four women, motherly and loving, dark and fair, stood with her.

  Four women. Did I conjure them or were they part of a dream? A nightmare?

  A sword, a staff, a cup, a coin. One held a cup to my lips that muted my pain, eased the burning. The mother with the coin stood before me as it spun and spun. I was so dizzy, I could not breathe or I would vomit. As it slowed, it became a pentagram, the elements, balanced. All things in harmony; earth, air, water, and even fire with the spirit. Each could consume, if out of balance. The mother handed the staff to me. I needed to rise. I used it to regain my feet. The last mother handed me the sword, but it was not yet time to lay down the sword, my battle was not done.

  The fires would not consume me.

  I stood. My face was in agony, and I could not remember anything hurting so badly before. I could not see out of my right eye, so everything seemed strangely off-center. I raised my right hand and touched my face. It was sticky and bloody, my hair and clothing, my skin, probably more had melted away.

  It was no matter. My bloody seax lay on the ground. It was only a seax, but it looked as big as a sword. In this place where there was no shadow, it was the silhouette of holy light that could vanquish darkness. Courage and Victory. For those without a victory. For those who could not fight this monster and win.

  The wendigo had become mangled and diminished under the relentless battering from my husband. Nate was bleeding from dozens of minor wounds, and the ground was littered with splatters of blood, bits of bone and tufts of fur.

  “Geiger!”

  The madman turned and paled at what he saw. I had to look quite the horror, burned and mangled, but I was still standing. More than that, I was still ready to face him.

  “You are a surprise, Mrs. Valentine.”

  I did not waste my time in talking.

  He closed the distance between us quickly. He was determined to finish what he had started. I swung my seax. He caught it in his metal fist, twisting it in his grip, trying to force it back toward me. He was stronger, but I would not be pushed aside. I sidestepped, quick as a cat, and jerked my blade free. Geiger stumbled forward and I caught him in a wide slash across the back. He hissed. Geiger spun, swiping at me. His metal fist caught me in the kidney. It hurt. I let the blow push me a few feet away as I turned with the blow. I tried slashing at him with my seax as I went.

  The Five of Swords. Win at all costs. I focused all of my energy upon my left arm, specifically my forearm, where the suit of Swords lay beneath my skin. The Five of Swords grew dark. Five stone pillars sprang up, hemming Geiger in, cutting off his retreat. They were thin and tapered, sword blades, symbolizing defeat.

  Geiger turned back to me. For the first time, I saw uncertainty in his eyes. His mouth formed an ugly sneer. He was not about to give in that easily. His metal fist grew red-hot, then burst into flames. He reached out to grab at me. If he managed to get hold of me, it was over. I dove out of the way, my shoulder banging painfully into a rock. Hate burned in his eyes.

  A deep snarl rumbled behind me—I knew that sound. To me it was comforting and it settled my nerves as much as it unhinged Geiger. His eyes grew wide at the sound. Nate had finished with his opponent. He stood behind me. Ready to assist.

  I held up my hand to stop him. I would not lay down the sword. This was my fight, for the mother, for the child, for those who had been unable to stand against Geiger. He had murdered the Tate family and countless others because they stood in the way of his personal progress. Their deaths demanded justice. To take a life was a great and grievous sin. It marked a person, harmed them. This was justice.

  Geiger reached out for me again with his flaming hand.

  I let him.

  He took hold of me. His burning hand closed around my throat. The flames licked at my skin. I could feel it charring, blistering, burning. I plunged my holy sword, the Ace of Swords, deep into his heart.

  His eyes flickered with hate. The flames died. I closed my eyes and fell.

  Falling. Falling and burning. First pain, then cold. Then nothing.

  Nate sobbed. The soft, shameless tears of a broken heart.

  I fought to open my eyes—my eye. My right eye was blind, milky, painful, sticky, and cold. I could not imagine what I looked like now. The world was watery and wavery. Nate, wonderful, beautiful, loving Nate, cradled me in his arms, rocking me. I had moved beyond pain now. It was cold, a soul-melting cold that had sunk into my bones. I shivered.

&nb
sp; Beyond him, Geiger lay crumpled in a heap, my seax buried deep in his chest. His metal arm was cold and still. The wendigo shuddered. The heap of fur and bone swirled as though caught in a gentle wind. The bits of shattered bone pulled itself together, reforming the horror back into the life-taker that awakened the secret sins of man.

  My last eye leaked tears. We could not defeat this demon. We were going to die here. There was nothing left. I could not defend Nate and I didn’t have the strength to call upon anything else to protect us.

  Nate ignored it. Maybe he didn’t see it. I’m not sure he cared. The ground around us had changed. For the last three days and nights it had been solid, like slate, with a beautiful, shiny sheen. The ground had grown soft. He’heeno had explained that the path to Seana was what the astronomers called the Milky Way, a bright path of stars in the night sky. We had been walking on God’s side of the sky. And now I lay upon it, unable to move, as Nate held me. We would not leave this place. A heavy weight pressed against my chest, a smoke, stealing the air from my lungs, that settled upon me and I could not rise above. But Nate could. He needed to rise and move on to the camp. People needed him at home, too many lives depended upon him.

  “Nate, I can’t,” I gasped. “I can’t go any further.” I was too broken to go on.

  We had been here for a long while, but never before had it felt cold. My hands were weak, as though my limbs were lead. Nate hauled me into his arms, the massive canithrope strength bulging his muscles, nearly tearing his flesh as he dragged me along. We made it one step at a time. There would be no fighting the wendigo this time. There would be no tricking it with words. It would find us and, when it did, we would be doomed here for all time. We were not even supposed to be here. We only had been allowed three days before our bodies realized we were no longer within and passed.