by Brom
“Ignore the pain,” Gavin said. “You gotta move.”
Chet gritted his teeth, forcing himself to his knees.
“Fetch yourself a few ka coins.”
Chet, clutching his chest, crawled over to where he’d emptied out the satchel, scooped up three coins, and shoved them into his mouth.
“Grab the gun belts and the bandolier. You’re gonna have to shoot your way out of here.”
Chet fumbled with the gun belt, the pain making him clumsily. He winced, clutched the wound again. His whole chest felt as though on fire.
“Stop dicking around, move.”
Chet grimaced as he worked through the pain, gathering up the gun belt, bandolier, and other revolver, shoving them into the satchel.
“The ka coins,” Gavin said. “The way you shoot you’ll be needing plenty of those.”
Chet raked the coins, along with everything else he’d dumped out, back into the satchel.
“Now put on my coat and hat. Disguise yourself. C’mon, kid, think.”
Chet yanked off the coat, slipped it on, shoved the flat-brim hat down low onto his head. He then grabbed his grandfather by the hair, slung the satchel over his shoulder, and pushed to one knee. He sucked in a breath against the pain, stood up, and stumbled to the door—the big revolver in one hand, his grandfather’s head in the other.
The hall ran both ways, but Chet couldn’t see far due to the gun smoke and gloom.
“Head right,” Gavin said.
No sooner did Chet step into the hall than he heard men coming.
“Move, kid.”
Chet took off, running as fast as the pain in his chest would allow.
“That’s him!” someone shouted and a shot rang out, the slug smacking the wall just in front of Chet.
“Shoot, boy,” Gavin cried. “Let ’em know you got bite.”
Chet shot blindly back into the smoke. It didn’t stop them, but it certainly slowed them down.
He shoved past a few dazed souls as several more shots came his way. One of the slugs caught a woman in the side of the neck and she fell directly in front of Chet, forcing him to leap over her.
The hall curved slightly. Chet hit a few steps then headed down a long straightaway and felt the ka kicking in, felt the pain subsiding.
“The lanterns,” Gavin cried. “Snatch ’em and throw ’em.”
Lanterns hung about every fifty feet along the narrow hall, giving just enough illumination to see the ground in front of him. Chet snagged the next one he passed, hurled it behind him, the lantern shattering, the oil exploding into a ball of fire and black smoke.
Cursing and more musket fire came from behind, sending shards of stone bouncing off Chet’s neck and cheek.
“There,” Gavin said. “Take the steps down.”
The hall split ahead, two sets of stairs, one leading up, the other down. Chet took the stairs down and found himself in a long cavernous tunnel with damp, dripping walls, the floor spotted with pools and puddles.
Another shot rang out behind him. Chet shot back, stopping the men in their tracks. He pulled the trigger again and the gun clicked on an empty chamber.
“Run, kid. Just run.”
Chet did, knocking out every lantern he passed, throwing the tunnel into darkness behind him. Slowly, the sound of pursuit fell farther and farther behind. Chet hit a flight of stairs heading upward, then another, coming out into a large dark chamber. Four halls led out of the chamber.
“Which one?” Chet asked.
“Be still. Feel the air.”
Chet froze and closed his eyes, at first feeling nothing, then a slight breeze from his right. He opened his eyes and dashed out by the right hall, the smell of night air growing as he ran.
The hall ended at an iron gate, an alley leading into the city just beyond. He grabbed the latch and yanked. It didn’t budge, the latch held in place by an iron lock.
“Fuck,” Chet growled, giving it several more hard yanks.
“They’re coming,” Gavin said.
Chet heard them too, not far behind. He glanced around, but saw no other way out.
“Load your guns, kid. You’re gonna have to make a stand.”
“No,” Chet said. “There’s another way.” And this time it was Chet who sounded cool and calm. He shoved the gun under one arm and slid out Senoy’s knife. He set the blade against the bolt, pressed down with a sawing motion. The blade cut right through, not as easily as flesh, but it did the job. The lock fell away.
“Well,” Gavin said. “Good to see you got some sense.”
Chet yanked open the gate and ran into the night.
PART SIX
Gavin Moran
CHAPTER 75
Chet gasped. The wound in his chest, though mostly healed now, still burned and throbbed. He stopped, bracing himself against a large boulder, and glanced back down the road. The lights of Lethe were now far behind them.
“Keep moving,” Gavin said. Chet had bound his grandfather’s head to the satchel so he could have both hands free, high up on the strap against his shoulder to give Gavin a good vantage point. “You need to keep moving.”
Chet continued to stare at the city. It was Ana he was thinking of, her troubled eyes that there at the end had appeared to have finally found some solace. He tried telling himself there was nothing he could do for her, not now. But, what if there was? “I left someone back there.”
“All your friends are dead or in the river. You go back and they’ll catch you. That’s a cold, hard fact.”
He’s right, Chet thought. The river, it was right there behind her. Where else could she have gone? And it was what she wanted. Right? Chet stood up, facing the city. Maybe? Maybe not. I can tell myself whatever I want, but I know the truth. The truth is Ana is dead. I’m dead, Gavin is dead, Mary and all those infants back there, they’re all dead, but Trish and my baby, they’re alive. And if I want them to stay alive, I need to keep moving. He took one long last look at the city, sucked in a deep breath, and headed away, pressing on as fast as he dared in the darkness. Ana, God, I hope you find some peace.
“Load your guns.”
“I already did.”
“Both guns. Where we’re headed you’re gonna want every chamber ready.”
Chet thought about putting a bullet through his grandfather’s head; instead he pulled the second revolver out, reloading it as he walked.
“We don’t want to be caught out on the open road come daylight.”
“I know, you already said that.”
“The cutoff will take us a bit out of our way, but it’s a road less traveled. Plenty of caves and cover. You can rest up a bit there.”
Gavin had told Chet the key was hidden in some tomb on the outskirts of Styga, stashed away with a few other treasures he’d gathered over the years. Chet wasn’t buying it. Senoy had made it clear the man wasn’t to be trusted. Chet felt sure the key had to be somewhere among the man’s belongings, that he’d just missed it somehow. He intended to find out one way or another once they were out of immediate danger.
A rumble echoed up behind them.
“Riders,” Gavin said. “At least three. Get down.”
Chet scrambled off the trail, sliding into the shadow of a large rock. A moment later three horses galloped past.
“Sure in a hurry,” Gavin said. “Look to be Carlos’s men.”
It was hard to see much in the dark, but Chet thought Gavin was right. He stood and resumed his march. They left the trail shortly thereafter, heading down into a rocky ravine.
“I gotta stop,” Chet said. “Just for a bit.”
“All right. How about up there, beneath that ledge. Give us the drop on anyone wanting to sneak up on us.”
Chet climbed the short knoll, found a cave, and crawled into it, collapsing on the sandy floor. He lay there, eyes closed, every bone and sinew in his body aching. The wind picked up outside, kicking the dirt around. A low howl whistled down the ravine and Chet hoped it was just the
wind. His mind drifted to Trish and he was horrified to find that it was becoming more and more difficult to see her, that the longer he stayed here, in this purgatory, the more his time on earth seemed like a dream.
“Chet,” Gavin said, a note in his voice that caused Chet to open his eyes. “Tell me about Cynthia, your mother. How did she . . . I mean . . . I thought she was dead. I thought they were all dead. What happened?”
Chet sat up, glaring at Gavin. “You murdered them. That’s what happened. Tried to kill them all and now you’re gonna pretend to give a shit?”
Gavin winced. “It’s not like that. That’s not what—”
“Look, asshole. I’m not here to ease your conscience or whatever it is you’re after. I just need the key. If you can’t give me the key then you can just go to Hell.”
Gavin’s eyes dropped to the dirt. After a long moment he spoke. “The key. What’s the key to you?”
“I need it. Need it to save my wife, my daughter.”
“Daughter? You have a daughter?” Then in a whisper. “I have a great-granddaughter?” His face hardened. “Save ’em from what?”
Chet didn’t answerer.
“Talk to me, Chet. If you want the key, you’re gonna have to talk to me. How’s the key gonna help save your daughter?”
“I need the key to cross back.”
“Cross back? You mean to earth above?”
“Yeah, ’cause you fucked up,” Chet said. “You left Lamia alive. Now, if I can’t get—”
“Lamia?” Gavin looked dumbstruck. “Chet, wait, nothing’s making sense. Lamia is still alive? Still on earth above?”
“Yeah, she is. And she’s got my Trish.”
Gavin looked as though his whole world had been turned upside down. “Lamia?” he spat. “Goddamn the day I ever laid eyes on that witch. Tell me, Chet, what makes you think the key can take you back?”
Chet laughed, a vicious sound. “What kind of game are you playing? Y’know, Senoy warned me about you. Told me you’d be full of lies and tricks.”
“Who’s Senoy?”
“Stop playing dumb,” Chet snapped. “I know what happened. He told me. Told me you stole the key from him. That you sold the souls of your own children.”
Gavin clenched his eyes closed as though trying to shut out the world.
“Look,” Chet said. “I’m not on some quest of vengeance. I don’t give a good goddamn about you. I just want to save my wife. So here, I tell you what, you just get me to the key, and I swear I’ll give you plenty of ka coin and let you go your way. How’s that sound?”
“Senoy,” Gavin said. “You’re talking about the man with pitch black skin, with a gold ring about his head?’ He eyed Chet. “Yeah, you are. So this Senoy, he sent you down here after me, right? To get the key?”
Chet didn’t answer.
“Chet, Senoy . . . he’s playing you.”
“Yeah, funny you should say that, because Senoy said—”
“Chet, dammit!” Gavin shouted. “I don’t care what lies Senoy told you!” He lowered his voice. “I’m not looking for sympathy or forgiveness, just a chance to set a few things to right. And . . . and . . . hell, to save my great-granddaughter. Now if you wanna save her too, then you need to listen to me. You need to hear the truth. Because your wife and your daughter, they’re gonna die the worst kind of death if you don’t.” Gavin locked eyes with Chet, waited. After a moment Chet sucked in a breath. “Go on, I’m listening.”
“I shot ’em. That’s true. So let’s just get that out of the way. I shot Lamia. I shot both of my boys. What you need to know now is why I shot ’em.
“I first laid eyes on Lamia on the border of Hungary. This was back in the war. My patrol wandered into a refugee camp and there she was about to be burned alive. Our eyes met and she had me, right then and there. I was under her spell. I freed her, threatening to shoot anyone who stood in my way. There was this old man, he begged me to leave her, said she was a witch, that she drank the blood of children. Christ-o-mighty, not a day don’t go by without me wishing I’d listened to that man.
“Brought her home with me, to Moran Island. We had the boys, then Cynthia. I can’t say I was a good man. I could blame the war, what it did to me, blame Lamia, but I think for the most part I was just drawn to trouble and if ever a soul deserved to be damned, it was mine. But when it came to my children, especially that little girl of mine, I did right. I always did right.
“Then came that night. That godforsaken night.” Gavin paused, his eyes far away. “I heard her, y’know, as I pulled up in the drive, heard her from all the way out by the road. My daughter screaming. Chilled me to the bone. She was calling for me, calling ‘Daddy,’ over and over. I’ve never run so fast. Thought a bear or maybe a rabid dog had done got in the house. That’s how bad them screams were. Pulled my pistol and rushed in. What I seen . . . well, nothing could’ve prepared me for that.
“They were in the den, a red quilt spread out on the floor. Lamia lay there, sweaty, naked, her face and hands covered in blood, her eyes closed, looking exhausted. A man I’d never seen before laid next to her, his skin slick and oily, black as pitch, a thin gold band sitting atop his head. He had blood smeared down his face, neck, and chest. Then I saw my boys, only they weren’t my boys, their skin was covered in scales, and their eyes were just pits. They had something pinned down between ’em.”
Gavin paused, his eyes wet. He cleared his throat. “It was Cynthia, my sweet little girl. Pale and still. I thought she was dead. All these years . . . I thought she was dead.” He cleared his throat again, continued, his voice thick with emotion. “The knife, the one you have, it lay there beside her. You could see where they’d cut her, high on the inside of both her thighs. They’d marked her, using the blood to draw symbols on her flesh.
“Don’t know how long I stood there. I remember I couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. One of my boys saw me, let out this ungodly howl, and I swear my mind just walked away. I shot him, shot him in the chest, then his brother, Davy. Lamia sat up and I shot her too, twice. Then that strange man, he opened his eyes and what I saw wasn’t human. He tried to sit up, tried to speak, but he was in a state, hardly able to move. I put my last two bullets into his chest and still he stared at me with them eyes. My wife and my boys, the three of them fled, running from the room and out the back of the house . . . left me staring at that creature. I snatched up the knife, the one beside my poor Cynthia, the one you now possess, and I drove it into his heart. Killed him dead. Only, seems I didn’t.”
Gavin paused again, his face troubled. “I got my rifle and a lantern and went after Lamia. Things get a bit blurry after that, almost as though I wasn’t even there, like part of me had already died. She was bleeding pretty bad and I tracked her down to the creek, down near the boy’s play fort. She was there on her knees, scrawling something in the dirt with a red key—a square shape, full of strange symbols. I shot her in the head and just stood staring at the strange marks she’d made in the ground while her lifeblood pumped out of her.
“I heard ’em, my boys. They were in the fort. I couldn’t bear to set eyes on ’em again. I was afraid I might get weak. So I set it on fire. Burned ’em. Burn my own sons to death.” Gavin closed his eyes as though trying to block out a vision. “After that . . . all I wanted was an end, an end to the pain. I stuck the barrel of my rifle up under my chin and pulled the trigger.”
He was quiet; the wind outside picked up. He opened his eyes. “Only, as I’m sure you now well know, one doesn’t escape one’s sins so easily. A lesson so many down here learn just a little too late. I found myself staring down at my body as the flames from my boy’s playhouse licked the sky. I noticed an eerie sound emanating from where the key lay. I stooped and picked it up and when I did, that square, the one Lamia had drawn, it opened like a door upon the blackest blackness I’d ever seen.
“I heard howls coming from the swamp. The moon and the stars disappeared and I felt a fear like I’d neve
r known. Felt sure Satan was coming for me. Coming to collect. I crawled away through that door. Crawled away from one nightmare and into another. Since that night all I’ve been trying to do is forget . . . until now, until you showed up.”
Chet studied the man’s face, listening to the distant thunder as he tried to see past the hard lines, searching for something to tell him if this man was telling the truth. “You should know,” Chet said, “my mother died, she killed herself.”
Gavin’s mouth tightened and Chet saw pain, true pain, in the man’s eyes. Whatever he’s up to, Chet thought, he cared for my mother. That much is real.
“Lamia’s demons,” Chet said. “They drove her crazy. Drove her to do it.”
“Chet, the revolver. Pick it up.”
“What?”
“The gun. The one in my tote sack.”
Chet frowned, looked at the satchel.
“Go on, pull it out.”
Chet did, looking it over.
“Set your thumbnail into the screw there. Give it a twist.”
Chet did, prying until it loosened up, then spun it out. The handle fell away and there in the cavity, a key, a red copper key.
“I’m not your enemy, Chet. I got no other way to prove it other than what’s there in your hand. I want . . . what you want . . . to save your daughter and kill Lamia. That is all I want. Before you leave me here, think about that. Because if there’s any chance at saving your daughter, it’ll be a lot better if we work together.”
CHAPTER 76
Carlos rode into camp, the burnt bones of Veles’s wagons casting long shadows in Mother Eye’s first light.
“We made good time,” the Colonel said.
Carlos nodded, glancing back at the riders and wagons trailing behind them, checking on the Red Lady. He found he couldn’t stop looking at her, not because he feared she might attack or try to escape, there was no chance of that, not after what the shrapnel did to her, but for the simple fact that he still couldn’t believe they’d taken her.
