Gaslit Revolution

by Jason Gilbert

  “I think they may be connected somehow,” Kane said. “They may have a Seeker. It would explain how he managed to show up everywhere there were Magicians to kill.” Kane turned his eyes back to Chris. “Get word to Cybil. Set up a meet.”

  Chris glared at Kane.

  “So you’re in charge now?”

  Kane felt his face flush. He moved close to Chris, got in his face, fists clenched.

  “You’re goddamned right I’m in charge. You can help me, or you can be part of the problem. Frankly, I need you to quit being part of the problem.”

  Chris smiled. “Good.”

  Cybil’s home was toward the end of the city opposite the shipyards, a small neighborhood where all the homes looked the same and kids typically played in the streets.

  At least they used to before the city started going to hell in a handbasket.

  Chris was able to dig up her address easily. In fact, he had addresses for everyone in the department, including Lt. Charles Danwood and Commissioner William Gentry.

  Kane could only imagine what Danwood’s apartment looked like. Though the temptation to go after the Lieutenant and a few choice others was there, Kane wasn’t feeling a suicide run. They would be heavily guarded if they were home at all.

  The assassination of a major political figure tended to make for late nights.

  Tabitha’s Ghostly Travel left the two Magicians standing in Cybil’s yard, the cold dissipating into the night air. Kane and Tabitha moved quickly to the large shrubs in front of the small white house, ducking under the growth as a police patrol ship moved by.

  “I didn’t think they patrolled this part of the city,” Tabitha said.

  “They don’t,” said Kane. “They’re for the rogue Magician who killed the President.”

  Tabitha nudged him.

  “Well, I hope they find him. I hear he’s dangerous!”

  Kane looked at her as she grinned and scrunched her nose.

  “Jones was right,” Kane said. “You are a smartass. Come on.” He stood and stepped out of the bushes with Tabitha close behind him. He was tall enough to peer into the windows. All of the lights in the house were out. He tried the window. Unlocked.

  Tabitha tapped his shoulder.

  “You’d think she’d be a little more cautious,” she said.

  Kane shrugged.

  “Why should she be? She’s on the force. As far as they know, she’s a loyalist.”

  Kane climbed in through the window, helped Tabitha through, and took a minute to look around the dark room. The house was silent. The décor was sparse: a love seat, an easy chair, coffee table, and a few pictures on the fireplace mantle. The fireplace was cold, the coal piled and ready for the winter weather that would start in a month. Kane could smell the distinct scent of cleaner in the air—pine and citrus. He wasn’t surprised that Cybil kept a clean house. She was straight-edged, no-nonsense, and liked order.

  Tabitha cried out and gripped Kane’s arm at the sound of a lever-action rifle being readied to fire. Kane turned slowly, not surprised to see Cybil standing in the doorway wearing her nightgown, the gun pointed in his direction, her expression dead serious about making her intruders seriously dead. She was thin, her hair silver and tied back in a bun, her small reading spectacles perched perfectly on her hawklike face. The rifle looked large in her hands, but she held it with the authority of someone who knew what she was doing with it.

  “Kane Shepherd,” she said, her Southern drawl out and flowing easy. She hid it when she was in the public eye at the police department, but had no issues letting it flow when she spoke to Kane one-on-one. “Well I’ll be damned. You actually made it on time.”

  “Took a chance you might be up,” Kane said as she lowered the rifle. “Figured Chris got the word to you quick.”

  “I was on my way home from a late shift when they slipped me the note.” She nodded to Tabitha. “Miss Drake, it’s lovely to meet you when you aren’t being dragged in on your ear. How are you, sugar?”

  Tabitha still hid behind Kane, staring at Cybil.

  “A little better now that you aren’t aiming that at me,” she said, indicating the rifle. “And still terrified. You’re kind of scary.”

  Cybil gave her a smile.

  “Don’t let this old lady fool you,” she said. “I make cookies that’d make you forget your worst nightmares.” She motioned to the window. “Kane, you go close that window while I scare us up some coffee.”

  “We can’t stay long,” Kane said as he moved to the window and closed it. “Gotta keep moving.”

  “Well, I imagine you do,” Cybil said. “But not from here. They know better than to come into this neighborhood. It would be a Public Relations mess for them.”

  “I guess you know about me by now,” Kane said, turning to her. He nodded to Tabitha. “About us.”

  “You saved my life, Kane,” Cybil said, standing tall. “Being a Magician doesn’t change that. You are what you are. Doesn’t make you a bad person. Come on into the kitchen and sit a spell. And keep the lights off.”

  Kane followed her to the kitchen, Tabitha still holding onto his arm as he went. Cybil lit a Gaslamp as she went by the table, turning the knob down low so the flame gave off barely enough light to see by. She started the water in the percolator on the stove to boil and motioned to the small kitchen table. Kane and Tabitha sat as she placed three coffee cups down.

  “Okay, Kane,” she said, sitting down. “Be ready in a few. What do you need at this ungodly hour?”

  “The Templars,” Kane said. “I need to know who they are.”

  Cybil looked at him over her spectacles.

  “Right to the point, aren’t we?” she said.

  “Time is short,” Kane said. “Had a run-in with one or two in Hidden Valley. Tattoos on their hands, nasty disposition, and not afraid to smack someone around under the guise of being a cop.”

  Cybil snorted.

  “You ain’t wrong using that word, ‘guise,’” she said. She leaned in as she spoke. “I’ll tell you the truth, Kane: those men scare the hell out of me. Showed up one day shortly after you caused all that mayhem in that shipyard. Claimed to be personal invites by Commissioner Gentry himself. Hired on for the purpose of huntin’ down Magicians around the city. Funny thing though.”

  “What’s that?” Kane said.

  Cybil shook her head slightly as she sat back.

  “Ain’t a one got a badge number. I went to assign them and I was told to walk away. I insisted. Every officer is to have a badge number. It’s how we keep them organized. You need to identify one of the three ‘Smiths’ in the department? Pull up the badge number. I was told they were a different situation and didn’t need badge numbers. But, they wear the uniforms, they enforce the law as it were, they make arrests. For all the public knows, they’re police officers.”

  “That makes absolutely no sense,” Kane said. “Impersonating Law Enforcement is illegal.”

  “You’re telling me,” said Cybil as she got up and went to the boiling percolator. She brought it to the table and poured coffee into the three cups. Tabitha picked hers up and smelled it, smiling as she closed her eyes and exhaled.

  “Mm, this smells wonderful!”

  “Thank you, honey,” said Cybil. “I don’t drink anything but the good stuff. Can’t afford much, so I gotta do myself right somewhere.” She looked at Kane. “I heard about Antonia Boudreaux’s home. It’s a damned shame, Kane. How is she?”

  “Not good,” Kane said. “She’s alive, but barely. She won’t wake up.” Kane switched subjects. “I had a run-in with one of the Templars at Antonia’s. He killed himself before I could get anything out of him.”

  “Huh,” Cybil said. “He say anything at all?”

  “Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed Nomini tuo da gloriam. ‘Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but to thy name give the glory.’ From what I remember the Sister Agnes teaching me as a kid, it was an old Templar prayer back during the Crusades.”
r />   Cybil huffed. “So that’s the game then? Bring back the Crusades? Are we heathens, now?”

  “I know, right?” Tabitha said. “If the Crusades are coming back, I want to see some Viking battles come around again, too. The Battle of Brunanburh could be interesting!”

  Cybil raised her eyebrow at Tabitha, then turned her stare to Kane. Kane picked up his mug and motioned to Tabitha.

  “She’s being sarcastic,” he said as he went to sip his coffee. “I think.”

  “The raids on Hidden Valley will get worse now, Kane,” Cybil said. “They’re pinning Frostmeyer’s assassination on you. They’re out looking all over for you. Might be wise if you left the city and stayed gone this time.”

  “I can’t,” Kane said. “The Gunman murders brought something to light that me, Tabitha, or Jones hadn’t considered. We’re not the only Magicians in New Chicago.”

  “Gunman Murders? You mean the shootings in Hidden Valley? I don’t know much else about that other than it’s happening.”

  “Because they’ve kept it quiet,” Kane said. “I think he was serving as a distraction. Something to keep Hidden Valley occupied while—” He froze as something clicked in his mind. He looked at Cybil. “A distraction. He was a Hunter.”

  “A Hunter?”

  “Someone who hunts Magicians,” Tabitha said. “They’re creepy. We ran into a few while we were in the South.”

  “If he was a Hunter…” Kane said, trailing off as the idea rolled around in his mind. He looked at Cybil as he stood. “Thanks for the coffee, Cybil. Do me a favor and keep your ears and eyes open?”

  “Have been since those Templar boys showed up,” Cybil said. “What’s got you all worked up?”

  Hunters would be using Seekers to try to find them. Kane knew it would be a risk, but there wasn’t much choice. The hairs on the back of Kane’s neck stood up on end, his heart pounding.

  He prayed he was wrong.

  The walk across Hidden Valley was eventful, the morning air crisp, the sun still down, dawn not yet setting in. Airships patrolled heavily, searchlights moving up and down every street. They weren’t wandering so much as hovering. Special Forces gunners moved about, their deck guns aimed at the ground. Kane and Tabitha had to move in and out of the alleyways, at times hiding behind dumpsters and inside abandoned buildings until the lights passed by.

  The sun wasn’t quite ready to come up yet, the dark sky slowly taking on a deep, dark bluish hue as dawn began to creep in, pushing back against the night. Kane felt the wear on his body, the lack of sleep starting to take its toll on him. Tabitha looked as if she had two black eyes, her face sallow from sleep deprivation.

  They couldn’t sleep. No time.

  Something sounded in the distance. Again. A shout. Kane stopped dead in his tracks, held up his hand to signal Tabitha to hold up, reached out with this hearing. A language Kane had never heard before. Another blast. A gunshot. Someone shouting orders. Scatter. Duck and cover. More of them. Coming in. Hold position. A familiar voice, husky and cracked.

  And vicious.

  Wil.

  “Kill every one of ‘em!”

  “Shit,” Kane breathed. He activated his amulet and looked at Tabitha. “We gotta get there now.”

  She blinked, confused.

  “Wait, what? What’s happening?”

  “No time!” Kane grabbed her hand. “Do it!”

  “But the Seekers—”

  “Screw the Seekers, they’re at the coal yard! Go!”

  The travel was hard, the wind biting and fast. Kane felt barely felt his feet leave the ground before they landed in the middle of the coal yard, coming in as if they’d jumped through a doorway.

  Magical blasts shot through the air past the storm of gunfire coming at the Magicians. Kane ducked, pulled Tabitha down with him and behind a large coal bin. The sound of bullets smacking metal rang in his ears. A blast of lightning sailed over them, at the shooters. An explosion. Screaming. Medic. Let him go. Advance.

  Kane looked ahead, saw streeters ducked and covered as more gunfire rang out. They countered with blasts. Ice. Fire. Lightning. One man stepped up and raised his hands. Kane looked over the dumpster and saw Special Forces scattering as the ground cracked open, a few falling into the void, screaming as they went. A man dove to the side and took aim, his face hidden behind the goggled plague mask.

  The Gunman? Alive?!

  Kane looked around. Special Forces troops were trying to flank them, their armor reflecting the light from a bonfire. The ground erupted in front of one group, and Wil rose from the soil, plant tendrils shooting out at them, grabbing them by the necks, slamming them around before jerking them like ragdolls, the sound of snapping vertebrae loud and sickening. Someone ran at her, his rifle aimed.

  Not a soldier.

  Another Gunman? Two? Kane looked around again, then ducked as more bullets came at him. Three. Four.

  He looked at Tabitha.

  “On three,” he said, holding his hand up.

  She smiled.

  “I’m not that patient. Draugalega Frosti!” She stood, her hands glowing blue, and slung an ice spear at a nearby Gunman. It impaled him, the force sending him backwards into a nearby building, his body slack and blood running from where the spear ran him through. Kane stood, shouted his Ethereal Fire, hurled a charged fireball at a catwalk above where two soldiers and four Gunmen were firing down at the yard. The catwalk blew, sent the shooters to the ground in a storm of fire and rubble. Kane glanced around, saw the other Magicians in the yard ducking, firing fewer blasts. He saw several on the ground, still and bleeding out.

  “Heads up,” he shouted at them. “Don’t let them flank you!”

  The Magicians responded to the order. Blasts went in all directions, forced the moving troops to fall back. Wil sent more vines out. The soldiers shouted as they fired at the whipping tendrils, ducked and dodged as they retreated toward the edge of the coal yard. Chris moved from cover and threw a lightning blast at the squad, caught a man directly in the face. The trooper went down instantly, his body twitching from the electricity coursing through him. Kane glanced around, counted in his head.

  Ten. Ten left.

  A Gunman rushed him, a Tommy Gun in his hand, bullets spraying the area. Kane cast his Ethereal Shield against the gunfire, rushed the man, tackled him to the ground. Tabitha threw a spear in Kane’s direction. He ducked as the ice went by and impaled another Gunman. The man underneath Kane struggled, reached up to the plague mask, his fingers on the knob on the side of the beak.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Kane said. He grabbed the man’s wrist, smashed it against the ground, and boxed him behind the ear. The man went limp instantly. The air was hot from the magic blasts as more of the homeless Magicians began to fight back, advancing forward as the attackers retreated, their ammunition running low.

  One of the Special Forces troopers began to shout to his group.

  “Fall back! We’re done, here! Go! Go! Go!”

  Kane stood, looked at Tabitha. She’d gone to cover, moving out every now and then to hurl an ice spear. Chris moved next to her.

  “Keep pounding them,” Kane said. “Chris, have your people keep advancing! Take out as many as you can!”

  Chris nodded, stood, and fired more lightning at the assailants as he shouted orders to the other Magicians. Kane looked down at the man underneath him. The Gunman stirred slightly, groaning.

  Shit, Kane thought.

  “Somnum Aereum!”

  The Gunman went limp, snoring loudly inside his plague mask.

  Kane rushed to Tabitha, conjured a fireball in his hand, and began to charge it as he looked at her. She sat, her back to the coal bin, her breathing rapid as she looked at him wide-eyed.

  “You okay?” Kane asked.

  Tabitha nodded.

  “Little more excitement than I wanted for a morning, but I’ll manage!” She looked at the churning fireball in Kane’s hand. “You gonna throw that, or is it just for looks?
”

  Kane rolled his eyes, stood, and lobbed the fireball at the rest of the shooters. The explosion sent the group flying, the Magicians moving toward them backing away as the loud blast rocked the coal yard. The gunfire had ceased, the area now filled with the loud roar of fire and the sounds of men groaning in pain. Kane saw homeless filling the area as they came out from hiding, some holding blasts in their hands ready to fire. Chris waved his arms at them, told them to stand down.

  “They’re done! We did it!”

  The group cheered as some began to tend to the wounded and the dead. Others went to the survivors from the Special Forces and Gunmen. Kane looked at Chris.

  “Don’t kill any of the survivors.”

  Chris looked at him.

  “There are no survivors,” he said as Wil stepped up next to him. “These men attacked us.”

  Kane glared at him.

  “You wanna be just like them? You wanna kill men after you made them defenseless? Because that’s how you become what you’re fighting. Take them prisoner, clean them up, and find somewhere to keep them so we can interrogate them. They can’t tell us a damn thing if they’re dead.”

  Chris ground his jaw, looked at Wil. She shrugged.

  “Shepherd ain’t wrong,” she said. “Can do a lot of things, but I can’t make no dead man talk.” She grinned. “Well, I can. But they just grunt and complain about they unfinished business. Get sick of listenin’ to it, truth be told.”

  Kane looked over at the sleeping Gunman, then back to Chris.

  “Get your people ready to move,” he said. “We gotta clear out. They’ll send reinforcements once they realize these guys aren’t coming back.”

  Chris nodded and ran off to mobilize the rest. Tabitha stepped up to Kane, looking from him to the sleeping Gunman on the ground a few feet away.

  “What about him?” she asked.

  Kane looked at the shooter.

  “Time to get answers.” He walked over to the man and crouched down. He removed the mask. The man was bald, his face clean-shaven and unfamiliar. Something caught Kane’s eye. He had to see it, had to verify what he suspected. He pushed the man’s shirtsleeve back to see the tattoo better.