He glanced at the clock on the bedside table.
“Six. We’d better get cleaned up for breakfast.” He pulled the covers back as Tabitha sat up. Kane stood and stretched.
“We need to talk to Antonia,” Tabitha said, her voice airy. Kane turned to her and saw that her eyes had gone completely white. “She has something for us. Buried. Had to dig it out.”
The bullet. Right.
“You go ahead and grab a shower,” Kane said. “I’ll get the bullet.”
Kane dressed quickly and left the room as Tabitha shouted after him.
“I’ll leave you some hot water!”
Kane took the steps two at a time, turned at the bottom, and made a beeline to the kitchen. He heard Antonia laughing, chatting with someone else as the smells of sausage, potatoes, and biscuits filled the air. He pushed the kitchen door open and saw Antonia cleaning flour off the counter top while Sandra tended to the stove. Both turned to him when he entered. Sandra smiled at him, moved her hair behind her ear as she bit her lip. Kane nodded to her. She’d always shown some interest in Kane, and he didn’t deny how attractive she was. He just didn’t feel that way about her.
Antonia grunted.
“Kane Shepherd, you know good and well my kitchen is a no-fly zone. Breakfast ain’t gonna be ready till seven.”
“I know, Antonia,” Kane said. “But this is important.”
“Eating is important,” Antonia said with a huff. “Takin’ a shower is important. Gettin’ a bullet I dug out of my damned porch can wait. Krieg won’t even be at his office for another hour and a half.”
“Antonia, I need that bullet.”
She looked at him sidelong as she picked up her cutting board and walked to the sink. She placed everything down into it, reached down into her apron, and pulled out a small pellet. Kane held his hand out and let her drop it into his palm. It was a normal round, nothing noticeably different about it. He turned it over, tried to find what Krieg had been talking about.
Another dead end. Kane sighed. Back to square one.
“What?” Sandra said. “What’s wrong?”
“Krieg told me to bring this to him,” Kane said, looking up at her. “Said he could look at it and tell me how the shooter is keeping his rounds quiet.” He looked back down at the bullet, put his other hand in his pocket, and drew his rune on his amulet.
“Aspectu aethereo.”
The room shimmered, everything turning black and white. He kept his eyes on the bullet as it glowed in his hand. Small lines formed around it in a spiral. Scratches from the barrel rifling. The grooves would put a spin on the bullet, making it all the deadlier when it hit its target. Something else glowed near the front, small scuffs. Kane had never seen that before. They looked like tiny starbursts, faint, less defined than the rifling marks.
Kane wiped his amulet and killed the spell. He looked up at Antonia and Sandra.
“Don’t wait on us to eat,” he said. “I need to get Tabitha.”
Antonia sucked her teeth and shook her head.
“Oh Lord, Kane,” she said as she went to the oven. “Since I can’t talk some sense into you, at least let me send you with somethin’. You got to have breakfast. Can’t do right during the day, otherwise.”
The morgue was cold, as usual. He stood in the far corner, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed, staring down at the floor as he waited on Krieg to finish with the bullet. He tried to organize things in his head. Too much was happening at once, and it was starting to scramble up. He would usually lay down on the couch in his office to think, but his office was a hollowed out, burned shell of its former self thanks to Danwood and his Templars.
Kane thought a few times about catching back up with Chris, sitting him down and talking to him about what he knew. He could expose Gentry and Chesterfield. A Magician and a Blood Priest both on the Oligarch payroll would be a giant story. The papers would go wild. It could rock the entire Northern Union. The country.
Or, more likely, it would be ignored and written off as hokum and finger pointing. Considering the source would be The Rag, he doubted many outside the paper’s readership would pay it any attention. It would come and go like a fart in the wind.
Then there was the gunman. What was his agenda? He’d had the perfect opportunity to finish Kane and he’d let him go. The man knew how to fight; knew how to handle someone larger than him. Kane was lean and muscular, but he was not a small man. The gun was unnecessary. The shooter could easily kill with his bare hands, knew how to handle himself in a fight regardless of the size of his opponent. But it would take longer. The murders were quick. No suffering, no performance. Just a dead target. All homeless. There was something more to it.
A network? Like the prostitutes had been? Not likely. The homeless in the city were driven to Hidden Valley and the South End regularly. Supposedly, there were no homeless in the streets of downtown New Chicago.
Supposedly.
“This is fascinating,” Krieg said, staring down into his microscope. He turned the knob on the side, the small gears turning in unison as the scoped lens moved closer to the bullet. “Absolutely fascinating.”
Kane looked up as Tabitha walked over and stood next to Krieg.
“It’s a bullet,” she said. “What’s fascinating?” Her eyes widened suddenly, and she patted Krieg on the arm. “Ooh! Does it do tricks? Like one of those Mexican Jumping Beans I’ve heard about?”
Kane looked at her. She had so many moments of some form of normalcy, and then the outbursts would come like a punch to the forehead.
At least she wasn’t boring.
Krieg looked up from his microscope, looking at her as if she’d come from another world.
“Um…no,” he said.
“What is it, Krieg?” Kane said before Tabitha could push Krieg further into confusion and blustering. He moved from his corner and around to the opposite side of the table from Krieg.
The doctor shook his head.
“The markings and scratches on this bullet are telltale, Kane,” he said. “I now know exactly what our friend is using to keep his shots quiet. And believe me when I say that it doesn’t make matters any better for anyone who might fall in his line of fire.”
Kane stared at him.
“Okay. I’ll bite. What is it?”
“A silencer.”
Kane blinked.
“A what?”
Krieg turned away and went to his file cabinet. He opened it, leafing through the files as he spoke.
“A silencer. It’s a simple device, really. Screws right onto the barrel of just about any gun. A few simple modifications to the gun, and I do mean simple, and you can fire off every round without making a sound that can be heard more than a hundred yards away. If that. Ah!” He pulled a file out, closed the drawer, and moved back to the table. He opened the file, and Kane caught the name on the front page.
“Hiram Percy Maxim,” Krieg said, glancing up at Kane. “An inventor. He and his father, Hiram Stevens Maxim, are credited with many inventions in the world of firearms, most notably the ‘machine gun.’” Krieg smiled a little. “That, my friend, was something interesting. A gun that uses its own recoil to maintain continuous fire. However, before their inventions could hit the market, things happened.”
“Do tell,” Kane said.
The doctor cleared his throat.
“Keep in mind that I’ve been here for a while, Mr. Shepherd. I’m no spring chicken, after all. Both father and son went missing, as did the schematics and patent paperwork for their new inventions. Neither the silencer nor the machine gun went public. Their bodies were found under a bridge in 1905. Reportedly, both men had created test units for demonstration. The machine gun was scrapped due to the expense of building them. That, good sir, is all we know of that invention. As for the silencer? No one has heard a thing on it.” Krieg grinned slightly. “Though the irony of that is quite entertaining.”
“Well, we’ve got something on it, now,” K
ane said. “Any idea on how the thing is built?”
Krieg shook his head.
“Sadly, no. As I stated before, the schematics for the device were destroyed. Whoever murdered the Maxims wanted to make sure that their inventions never saw the light of day.”
“Or wanted to make sure that they could control the damned things,” Kane said, looking up at Tabitha and Krieg. “Think about it: the killer gets his hands on two weapons and the schematics for them. Now he controls production, and he controls how these things work. I imagine the silencer is pretty straightforward?”
“Indeed,” Krieg said. “I, myself, have seen another bullet with these markings. It was very close to the time they disappeared, maybe a week before. It was brought to me after the younger Hiram demonstrated it for the Special Forces in order for me to identify the differences in the markings left behind by the rifling and the device.” Krieg’s eyes locked on Kane’s. “But the older Maxim’s device. That, my dear boy, is a far more complex and terrifying invention. A gun that is capable of killing a crowd of people with the squeeze of the trigger. The force was enough to cut a testing dummy in half with a concentrated burst of fire. No crank needed. Nothing.”
“What powered it?” Kane asked. “Steam?”
Krieg shook his head and shrugged.
“Another question I cannot accurately answer. All I can say is that no one will be safe, either alone or in a group, if Hiram Stevens Maxim’s invention has fallen into the wrong hands.”
Kane let the thought sink in. A gun with the ability to fire like that could be catastrophic in a crowd. His blood chilled at the thought.
“There is another matter that you should be aware of, Kane,” Krieg said, closing the file. “I am sure you are well aware that Danwood knows that you have returned to New Chicago.”
Tabitha huffed.
“He came right to my apartment. Sent his men in after me. One of them shot me through the arm. Rude.”
“We may have had words,” Kane said. “Why?”
“You must know that he has escalated your return all the way up to Commissioner Gentry,” said Krieg. “They are currently in the process of preparing a full raid of Hidden Valley. They plan to occupy the community until you are found.” He looked at Tabitha. “Both of you.”
Chapter Seven
The day was overcast, the clouds in the sky gray and threatening rain. The rain in the Northern Union was harsher than in the South, the smog in the air from the coal yards turning the rain more acidic and corrosive. It was why everyone in the North kept goggles with them, wore them when the rain began to fall. The acidic nature wasn’t enough to fully harm skin, but it would cause blindness if enough of the water got into the eyes.
The sound of matics in the distance working tirelessly in the coal yards was rhythmic, steady and endless as Kane and Tabitha made their way towards the Walking Bridge area. It was all about to come to a head, and he needed answers before Hidden Valley became a war zone.
Wilhelmina had those answers. She had to.
“You could’ve told me Wil was here,” Tabitha said as Kane led her around a corner and down the slope that led to the area under the large bridge where Wil and her people lived. “I would’ve brought cookies or something.”
“I don’t think she likes cookies,” Kane said, the memories of the Marsh Witch drinking vile concoctions in her home in Charleston flashing in his mind.
“Don’t be silly, Kane,” Tabitha said. “Everybody likes cookies. And I make mine special!”
“Your apartment is a wreck and your kitchen is destroyed,” Kane said. “How would you make cookies?” He shook his head, stopped, and rounded on her, holding his hands up as his mind seemed to reel from the distraction. “Why are we having this conversation? This isn’t important. Stop it.”
Tabitha grinned and stepped up close to him, kissed him on the lips and scrunched her nose flirtatiously.
“Because you love me. And because it’s funny when you get flustered. And cute.”
And I need the distraction, Kane thought to himself. Don’t kid yourself, Shepherd.
Kane shook his head again and turned, leading her the rest of the way down the slope and under the bridge. The homeless toiled about, talking to each other and trading goods. It reminded Kane a lot of the market at Charleston. The people he was watching had blankets, clothing, scraps of food here and there they’d either found or been given rather than items they’d crafted for sale. Wilhelmina’s barrel fire was out, the Mambo nowhere to be seen.
The little girl from earlier wandered up to Kane, looking up at him with her large blue eyes, Wil’s possum cuddled in her arms. Kane knelt down so he could speak to her at eye level.
“Hey, there,” he said. “Remember me?”
She nodded, her expression still stoic, her eyes innocent.
Tabitha moved next to Kane, bending down to speak to the girl.
“Aren’t you sweet,” she said. “Oh, is that your pet? He’s so cute!”
Kane glanced at the possum, the thing’s greasy looking, matted fur barely covering it’s pink and wrinkled skin. Cute. Right.
“We’re looking for Wilhelmina,” Kane said before Tabitha could start up again. “Have you seen her?”
The little girl nodded, turned, and pointed at the cold fire barrel. She turned back to Kane and grabbed his hand, pulling at him as she looked up at the sky.
“What?” he said. “You want us to come with you?”
She pulled at him again, not letting go of the possum as she grit her teeth and let out a grunt of frustration.
“Okay,” Kane said, standing. He nodded to Tabitha. “Let’s go.”
“Is she taking us to Wil?” Tabitha said.
The area flashed white as lightning struck not far away. The loud crash of thunder shook the ground under their feet as droplets began to fall around them. Kane and Tabitha hurried behind the little girl as she led them under the bridge. The sky opened up, acid rain falling to the ground in sheets. Homeless pulled away from the opening, some covering their eyes until they were safely under the bridge. The storm picked up intensity, the falling rain heavy and dull gray.
Kane heard Wilhelmina’s voice in the dark.
“That stuff nasty. Eat your eyes, burn your skin. How y’all live up here with that shit fallin’ out the sky I will never know.”
Kane looked around and saw the barrel fire going, the flames low and welcoming. Wil stepped out from the shadows, beckoned the homeless to her.
“Come, my children. Warm yo’selves by this here fire.”
Tabitha waved at Wil, grinning ear to ear.
“Hi, Wil! Good to see you!”
Kane looked from her to the Marsh Witch and back again.
“I think ‘good’ might be a relative term,” he said.
“For once, you got a good point, Kane Shepherd,” Wil said, stepping towards them. The little girl carrying her possum went to her and stood dutifully at the Marsh Witch’s side. The possum snuzzled her neck and curled into a ball in her arms. “Lexi here, she like you, Kane Shepherd. She say I can trust you. Truth is, I already done known that. But she don’t know you from Adam. Good girl, this one. Good judge of man.”
“Glad I made the cut,” Kane said. “We’ve got information on the killer.”
Wil raised an eyebrow, crossed her arms in front of her, and stared expectantly at Kane. He told her what Krieg had told him about Maxim and the Silencer device he’d invented.
And his untimely disappearance.
“This no good,” Wil said, shaking her head. “This white-man technology only meant for one thing: dealin’ death. And doin’ it quick and quiet. Why this man done picked your neighborhood?”
Kane shrugged.
“I have no idea,” he said. What I do know is that both sets of schematics are missing to this day, and someone has apparently gotten his hands on Maxim Junior’s silencer. I think it’s a safe bet to worry that someone might also have Maxim Senior’s machine gun conc
ept as well. And the actual unit.”
“I wonder if he could put them together?” Tabitha said. Her eyes widened, her hand going to her mouth as she gasped. “Oh Gods, Kane. That could be horrible!”
Wil shook her finger at Kane.
“You make no mistake, boy: they’s an agenda here. This man? Him got a plan. Got an idea of what he tryin’ to accomplish.”
“I wonder if it’s connected to the Revolution around here?” Tabitha asked. “Maybe something to do with that event coming up? That conference?”
Kane nodded.
“Way more than likely. Frankly, given what we’ve been through the past few weeks, I’m inclined to think every bit of it is connected somehow.”
“Which means this murderer is working for the Oligarchy?”
Kane shrugged.
“Maybe, but not necessarily. He could be a loyalist just trying to help them. He could be working for Gentry. Hell, he could just be some nut job who thinks he’s doing God’s work for all we know. The only common factor in all of his victims is that they’re all homeless.”
Wil grinned, shook her finger at him again.
“Think again, Kane Shepherd. Think harder. It never that simple, is it? Never so nice and neat like Mee-Maw used to keep her kitchen even when she cook.”
Kane looked around. Wil wasn’t wrong. Every time he’d found a perfect solution to something, things had gone from complicated to confusing. Shallow to deeper than he’d wanted to go. The people under the bridge stared back at him, looking fearful and defensive. Mostly children huddled near the fire. Others lined the walls and clustered around the pillars that supported the bridge. He counted fifty people in the area. Maybe more.
He heard Tabitha gasp, turned and saw her clutching the satchel with their Grimoires close to her as her eyes turned white.
“So much…I can feel power. Kane. Someone here. Not Wil…” Her body jerked as if someone had yanked her by her shirt. She dropped the satchel, stared at Wilhelmina. “By Thor…so many voices…who?”
“Tabitha?” Kane stepped closer to her, put his hands on her shoulders. “Tabitha. Wake up.” He shook her slightly. “Tabitha! C’mon!” He looked over at his shoulder and saw Wil grinning at them, anger building in his chest, boiling his blood. “Let her go!”
Gaslit Revolution Page 9
