by Vered Ehsani
“Marvelous,” I said, feeling anything but. The train jolted to one side, then the other, and we careened forward, holding each other up. “I do hope you won’t suffer any form of indigestion.”
Forcing a smile, Simon said, “Don’t you have a tea for that?”
“You might need something a tad stronger than peppermint tea, my dear,” I scolded as we arrived at the front of the caboose.
I stared along the length of the train as it chugged steadily across the savannah. There were only six carriages: the engine, the passenger carriage and four freight carriages. Just as I opened my mouth to suggest we divide and conquer, something clattered onto the roof behind us.
“Now what,” I huffed as we spun and ducked in anticipation of another oversized pair of scissors or a saw.
Instead, a giant praying mantis clung to the caboose, her triangular head tilted to the side, the large pincers clicking.
“Oh, it’s just you, Koki,” I said, tugging Simon up as I stood.
“Try to sound a bit more enthusiastic,” she replied, her voice almost unrecognizable as it squeaked past the pincers. “Is the male all right?”
Simon staggered against me, almost dragging me down. “It must’ve been something he ate,” I said. “Simon, stay here while—”
“Not bloody likely,” he muttered, pushing his free hand through his tangled hair.
“He’ll live,” Koki snorted as she shifted back into her womanly form and stalked down the length of the caboose. “So what’s the plan?”
“Catch the Poacher. Free the babies. Survive and be home for afternoon tea,” I stated.
Koki tilted her hip to one side and crossed her arms. “I was hoping for something a tad more detailed.” Peering at me through thick eyelashes, she grinned. “And by catch, do you really mean catch or—”
“Alive, Koki,” I said as I pushed back strands of hair from my eyes.
“Even if the Poacher happens to be Prof. Runal?”
“Especially then.”
Huffing, she sauntered past me. “You’re no fun.” She descended the ladder at the front of the caboose and dropped lightly onto the small, metal platform between the caboose and the next carriage. The joints under the platform squeaked and clattered as the train chugged around a bend in the tracks. The clang of metal against metal invaded the savannah, pushing far beyond the area cleared for the railway tracks.
“All clear,” Koki called up to us. “Come on, boy, it’s safe for you to come down now.”
“Why did we have to bring her?” Simon gritted out as he crouched before the top of the ladder.
“Because I’ll probably end up saving your worthless self,” she replied as she glanced through the window of the caboose’s door. “Well, at least part of your plan will be easy, Miss Knight.”
I hastened after Simon, the metal slippery under my sweaty grasp. As soon as I reached the platform, Koki pushed the door open and entered. “Voila. May I present a carriage of shifters.”
Despite his unsteady legs, Simon insisted on going next, a pistol gripped in his hand. I squeezed after him and leaned against the door, shutting off most of the train’s noise. Instead, the sound of misery surrounded us: children crying; a young girl whimpering as she comforted a still younger boy; a baby hiccuping with sobs. Cages covered in crate material filled the caboose. Some of the wood paneling was removed to allow more air for the occupants, but that did little to alleviate the wretchedness.
“Are you still determined to only catch them?” Koki asked, her eyes glowing darkly with a suggestion of violence barely leashed.
I gulped as a whiff of unwashed bodies, excrement, sweat and fear floated up from the cages. Before I could answer, someone whispered, “Beatrice.”
Simon twirled, pistol raised and pointed at…
“Cilla?” I gasped, knocking Simon’s arm down. “What?”
Paler than usual, Cilla stood up from behind one of the crates. “We were in town and Drew caught a whiff of the man he’d bitten. He shifted back into a werewolf—”
“In town?” I asked, my voice jumping an octave.
“In an alley,” Cilla said. “And he sniffed his way over to the train station. I followed him and begged him not to get on board but he insisted.”
“So you jumped off the bridge with him,” I finished for her. “Or boarded a train.”
“I should never have allowed you to marry that canine,” Simon spat. “Bloody—”
“That’s quite enough, Simon,” I warned before he could utter something truly offensive and possibly unforgivable. “An awkward situation is no excuse for profanity.”
“Awkward?” Simon repeated, his eyes darkening. “Is that what you call this, then? We’re on a train that’s probably crawling with possessed automatons, there’s at least one villain, not to mention a carriage of kidnapped children needing a rescue, and it’s no more than awkward?”
“Well, when you put it that way,” I said, stepping away from his angry huff. “It could be worse, you know.”
“Please. Enlighten me,” he snarled.
“We could have two carriages to rescue,” I quipped.
“Oh, and Gideon could arrive to distract you,” Cilla added, some color returning to her cheeks as we glanced at her.
Scowling, Simon growled, “Mark my words, I won’t be distracted when I have words with your—”
“Hello, hello,” Gideon crowed as he floated through the ceiling. “Oh, my, a second carriage of kidnapped children.” He turned to me and added, “I just finished checking out the other carriages. Some of them are crawling with automatons.”
Koki laughed, a deep and unrestrained sound. Clearing my throat and not daring to look at Simon, I asked, “Did you see Drew?”
“No,” Gideon said, feigning disinterest as he stared into one of the cages. “But I did notice a large, mangy wolf snooping around the next carriage.”
“Drew,” Cilla said, moving toward the door.
“You’ll be staying here,” Simon ordered, stepping into her path.
“I see he’s made a fast recovery,” Koki murmured to me. “Well, shall we go liberate some children from the clutches of evil?”
“Please tell Drew to be careful,” Cilla called after us.
“Oh, I’ll be telling Drew a thing or two,” Simon muttered as he led the way.
Chapter Forty
TO MY DISMAY, the next carriage was full of crates and cages stacked on top of each other. Little faces and snouts pressed up against bars and air holes.
“How did no one notice this?” I asked, trying not to breathe too deeply. The place stunk of fur, fear and excrement.
“We have to stop the train,” Simon said as he glared straight ahead, not daring to meet the gaze of misery. “At least from here, they can walk back to Nairobi. Once there, we can house them until we figure out where they belong.”
“Sounds like a great plan,” Koki purred as she leaned over the two of us to study the far door. “I’m sure they won’t mind in the least.”
Two automatons pressed up against the door and stared through the window at us.
“Still just awkward?” Simon asked.
Rolling my eyes, I flapped a hand at him. “It has now officially moved from awkward to difficult. Satisfied?”
“Not even remotely,” he said as he shook out his hands. “How many of them are there?”
“Seven or eight, maybe,” I said, studying Simon’s unusual pallor.
The door handle twitched as one of the metal men attempted to turn it.
Cussing under his breath, Simon glanced at me. “Ingesting the energy from those first three was nauseating enough. I don’t think I can handle more of them.”
Three more automatons joined the first two, leaning against them to study us.
“Gideon,” I called.
“You’ve finally come to your senses,” Gideon whispered as he floated up from the floorboards. “I warned you he wasn’t worthy to fill my shoes.”
Hinges creaked as the automatons pressed against the wooden door.
“I need you to guide Simon to the engine,” I said.
“Why him?” Koki demanded.
“I’m not leaving,” Simon grunted.
Ignoring Koki, I said, “You’re in no condition to tackle them.”
“And he’s in no condition to run along the top of the train to the engine,” Koki pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest and pointedly gazing up and down Simon’s slouched frame.
“Well, I’m in no condition to move these crates to block those automatons,” I said just as Drew slunk into view.
“You,” Simon snapped.
Drew snarled, lips pulled back, hackles raised.
“Drew, leave him alone,” I warned.
Koki tapped my shoulder. “He’s not growling at your man.”
Glass cracked. I turned around to see two more automatons on the other end of the carriage. One had used the hammer which replaced its hand to smash the window.
“Koki, how fast can you run along a train?” I asked as I strode to the freight door on one side of the carriage and tugged at its handle. With a screech of protest, it slid open. Wind snatched at my braid and flung dust in my eyes.
Chuckling darkly, Koki sauntered to my side. “We’ll soon find out. I’ll be back shortly. After all, I can’t let you have all the fun.”
In a blur of motion, she shifted into a praying mantis the size of a wolf and scuttled onto the outside of the carriage. As soon as she was clear of the door, I slid it closed, tossed my walking stick to the side and faced Simon and Drew. “Help me block the doors. Drew, shift.”
Obediently, Drew shifted back and dragged a cage to the door with the cracked window. Unlike demons, werewolves hadn’t mastered the art of shifting with their clothes on. I did my best to ignore the issue but Simon frowned.
“What about the children?” Simon asked as he helped me push a cage against the other door.
Not daring to glance at Drew, I said, “They’re shifters. I’m sure they’ve seen a naked man before.”
“I meant the danger to them from the automatons.”
“Oh. I don’t think they’ll damage the merchandise,” I said, out of breath and silently praying that all my recent exertions wouldn’t harm Emma. “And the children are probably safer in their cages than running amok.”
Wood cracked on our end as the five automatons gave up on the door handle and began pounding at the door with their various mutated limbs.
“I’m not sure the same can be said for us,” Simon grunted as he pushed another cage into place. A little arm reached out and tugged at his trousers. Simon squatted down and stared through the bars. “Poor little blighter. Maybe we—”
The world lurched forward in a piercing squeal of metal against metal; a tinge of hot iron scented the air. Automatons were momentarily flung from view as the train shuddered to a stop. Screams and shouts echoed around me.
“Well done, Koki,” I murmured as I pushed myself away from the crate against which I’d fallen.
The celebration was short-lived as the side door slid open to reveal three of the automatons. Their limbs buzzed and snapped as they lurched forward to fill the doorway.
“Beatrice, stay behind me,” Simon ordered as he stepped in front of me.
Shaking my head, I picked up my walking stick. “Really, Simon, this is no time for vain heroics.” I pressed two buttons on the metal fist atop my stick; a blade slipped out the other end.
“It’s not my vanity that concerns me,” he said as he released his energy against the closest automaton. The skeletal metal legs trembled as Simon drew the possessing spirit out. It took longer than before, and I could see Simon’s own limbs quivering with the strain. Like a marionette that has had its strings cut, the automaton collapsed in a jumble of limbs, metal clattering against metal. Simon followed, slumping onto his knees, his head hanging.
I slashed at the legs of the next automaton. Its eyes glaring at me, it too fell to the ground but then used its arms to pull its body toward me.
“Goodness,” I said as I sliced off its arms. Its jaw snapped at my feet. “Die, already.”
As if summoned by that morbid command, a giant praying mantis appeared behind the third automaton and snapped it in two with her pincers.
“Simon,” I said, spinning around and squatting next to him. Placing my hands on his cheeks, I lifted his head. “Stay awake or at least alive.”
His eyes struggled to stay open, but he snorted a laugh. “Anything you say, my dear.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” I said. I pulled him out of the way of the limbless automaton’s snapping jaws and leaned him in a corner against a crate. “Rest here while we try to sort out this mess.” I kissed him just as a werewolf bounced into the carriage and licked my cheeks.
“Can I die now?” Simon mumbled, scrunching his face against Drew’s display of affection.
“Now where would the fun be in that?” Gideon demanded as he appeared on Simon’s other side.
“Where’s Cilla?” I demanded.
Gideon pouted. “I’m not a babysitter.”
Another scream, close by and familiar, caused my heart to clench. It wasn’t a scream of terror but of outrage.
“You’re not getting away with this,” Cilla yelled and, to my astonishment, she appeared before us, chasing a man away from the train. The man was big, hairy, lumbering in his gait but was still drawing away from Cilla who struggled as her dress snagged in thorny weeds.
“Prof. Runal,” I shouted.
He paused in his run, glanced back at me and stumbled. Cilla pounced on his back.
“No,” I shouted just as Koki and Drew leaped forward, Drew shifting in midair.
Faster than I’d thought he could move, Prof. Runal spun around, swept Cilla before him and clamped an arm around her neck. In his other hand he produced a knife which he waved at his would-be attackers.
“No, Drew,” I said as I moved to the side opening in the carriage and clutched at the edge of the door.
Drew and Koki began to circle the professor, searching for an opportunity in which to attack without harming Cilla. There was none.
“You’ve become so powerful,” Prof. Runal said as he stared at me over Cilla’s head. “But there’s more you need to learn, dear Beatrice, much more. I was hoping we could remain friends, at least a little bit longer.”
My eyes stung. I blinked away any indication of weakness. “You mean, until I’m strong enough to be useful to you. Or…” I gulped as the true ugliness of the situation dawned on me. The cages of paranormal children. His encouragement to learn. The gift of my mother’s spell book. His interest in my condition. “You want Emma.”
Gideon zoomed around Prof. Runal. “Well, you can’t have her. She’s ours.”
Ignoring the distraction, Prof. Runal continued to study me as he backed away. “She would be a prize, as would you. You would be adored and valued and cared for by all of us.”
“I’d never agree to rejoin the Society,” I spat as Koki maneuvered around Prof. Runal. Catching her eye, I subtly shook my head.
Prof. Runal smiled sadly. “Well, my dear Beatrice, one never truly leaves the Society for Paranormals. And we were so sure that with Mr. Timmons incarcerated in London, you’d move back to be close to him.”
“You,” I breathed out. “You set his ex-fiancée onto him, didn’t you? Why else would she have appeared so inconveniently in Nairobi? Of course.”
Gideon twirled faster, a blur of moving light. “Too bad they released Mr. Timmons.”
Frowning, Prof. Runal took another step back. “Yes, his miraculous pardon was unfortunate.”
“Your existence is the only unfortunate part about this,” I said, my eyes threatening tears. “Does the Poacher even exist, or is it just you?”
The old werewolf shrugged. “Either way, we serve the same purpose.”
“Just kill the bastard, Beatrice,” Simon mumbled from t
he corner of the carriage.
“Do that,” Prof. Runal said, his deep voice rumbling around me, “and the Society will list you as an official enemy of the Kingdom, a traitor, a criminal. You’ll be forever looking over your shoulder.”
I knew he was right, but that didn’t seem a good enough reason to let him walk away.
Pulling Cilla closer, his right arm hooked firmly across her neck, he added, “I’m not a bad man, Beatrice.”
“Well, you’re not a good one, either,” I said, my words struggling past the constriction in my lungs, my throat, the dryness of my mouth. “Let her go.”
Prof. Runal smiled, a sad tilt to his lips. Blood stained his teeth. “As I told you, some things are bigger than us, much bigger, and require sacrifice.”
“Not her,” I breathed, my words barely audible above the ticking of cooling metal and the distant shouts of those in the passenger carriage and engine.
Koki continued circling Prof. Runal, the triangular head tilting back and forth, as if gauging how best to rip his head from his shoulders. Drew inched closer, his muzzle frozen in a ferocious snarl, ears laid back, hackles raised, ready to attack. But Cilla was there, locked in Prof. Runal’s ungodly embrace.
“Just go,” I said. “We won’t chase you. Leave her and the children—”
Prof. Runal huffed a laugh and met my gaze, his eyes so similar in color—the yellowish glint of a werewolf—yet so different. In their depths lingered a certainty that I was only now accepting: I would kill him. One of us was not walking away from this.
“You will,” he said. “Whatever hope I held out for your return has now been broken, utterly dismembered. I suppose I must take part of the blame.”
“All of it,” I gritted out, swiveling the walking stick in my grasp until the blade end was pointing at him.
