by Frank Tuttle
Darla nodded, but I saw a shiver run down her back. “Do we need to open any more?”
“I’ve seen what I needed to see. But there is one thing I’d like to do. You have a piece of thread?”
She frowned in the lamplight. “I’m afraid not, dear. I also don’t have a horseshoe, or a trumpet. What do you need thread for?”
I rummaged. I had to pry open two crates to find a sewing kit, from which I borrowed a spool of fine black thread.
I tied one end toe-high across the narrow walkway just ahead of the car’s door. The other end I wedged between two boxes.
“Anyone sneaking in will disturb the thread,” Darla said. “Why, Mr. Markhat, you are as clever as people claim.”
“I’d prefer a light sifting of flour. It shows shoe-shapes. But this is better than nothing.”
We back carefully out the door, and I locked it behind us.
I explained to Evis and Gertriss what we’d found in whispers.
“He’s still in his compartment,” Evis replied. “Hasn’t popped out for hours.”
“Good. Maybe he’ll stay there. When we hit Wetherneck, we go in if he doesn’t come out. We put him off the train, dead or alive, whichever way things work out.”
“So why did he kill the Watchman?” asked Gertriss. “Are you thinking it was him?”
“No idea,” I said. “All I do know is that somebody is throwing around proscribed old magic and he’s got a box full of arcane laboratory gear. Evis. You didn’t happen to bring a rotary gun aboard, did you?”
He sighed. “I don’t even have a change of shirts,” he said. “The note said come now.”
“All right. We’ve got ourselves a rogue sorcerer. I’ve got two revolvers, maybe a hundred rounds, my knife, and a heavily armed wife. Darla?”
She reeled off a lengthy inventory of handguns and blades. “And of course I have a pair of grenades,” she added as an apparent afterthought.
Evis, Gertriss, and I exchanged looks.
“Darling,” I said. “Did war break out, and I missed the news?”
“I could kick myself for not bringing along a rifle or two,” she said. “Lesson learned, though.”
“And we bought you a stew-pot for a housewarming gift,” said Evis, shaking his head. “I have a pair of revolvers, a couple of knives.”
“Same here,” added Gertriss. “Well, and a scatter-gun.”
“Could be worse. Dear, please fetch a grenade, but only one. Gertriss, the scatter-gun, please.”
“Now?”
“We need to be ready.”
The ladies departed. Evis watched them go. I noticed that he waited to light his cigar until they were out of sight, and I grinned.
“What? She doesn’t like the smell,” he said. First time I ever saw a vampire look sheepish.
“I figure we’re still a good three hours out of Wetherneck,” I said. “If you-know-who stays in his compartment, we can delay the shuffling until after he’s gone.”
Evis blew a smoke ring. “Good thinking. Might be more than one troublemaker aboard.”
“Might be. Might not. But as long as we’re dealing with sorcerers, we’re going to err on the side of caution.”
“What happens to caution if you-know-who puts up a fuss of the magical kind, when we invite him off the train?”
“Six revolvers and a scatter-gun.”
“Guess we’ve got no choice.”
“Funny how it so often works out that way.”
Evis shrugged and puffed away. “Gertriss seems to think we ought to stay in Railsend for a while,” he said, staring out the window. “She makes a good argument.”
“Think the House would follow you there?”
“Eventually. I know things. Things that could be trouble for them, if I got talkative in my old age.”
“So you’re going back.”
He took in a last long draw, then snubbed out the cigar. “Like you said. Works out that way. No choice.”
Darla and Gertriss returned. The short fat bulk of the scattergun raised a few eyebrows and left worried whispers in its wake.
“When you make your play, I’ll be there,” I said before the women got close enough to hear. “Don’t you dare take on the whole place alone.”
“Good to know,” he muttered before rising to meet the ladies.
Rowdy came up as soon as they were seated. “Drinks?” he asked. “And, um, firearms are prohibited in the bar car, sirs, ma’am.”
“That’s why we’re not carrying any,” I replied, patting my revolver. “Coffee all around. Sandwiches too. Charged to the C&E. With a nice tip for you.”
“Of course.” He hurried away.
Darla thumped a deck of cards down on the table. “The conductors are watching the corridors,” she said. “We might as well relax for a bit.”
“Might as well,” I said. “You deal.”
The sun took its time setting.
By the time night fell, Evis owed Darla nearly a hundred crowns. Gertriss and I fell out early. When the conductors came around to light the evening lamps, Darla put the cards away and we all spent a few minutes checking our weapons.
Rowdy appeared to whisper in my ear. “We’re a half hour from Wetherneck,” he said. “You told me to come tell you.”
I nodded and spun the cylinder of the revolver I certainly wasn’t brandishing in the presence of a railroad official. “Thanks, kid.”
He scurried off.
I holstered my weapon. Darla was frowning. Evis was looking about, obviously worried. Gertriss took his hand suddenly.
“Something’s not right,” she said.
I rubbed my eyes. Sure, it was getting dark, but I was having trouble seeing the end of the car, even with the lamps lit.
Darla rose, revolver in hand. “Dear, did the Army use any sort of darkness spells during the War?”
“They called it eclipse powder,” I said, rising. It was so dark even the lamps appeared to be dimming. I could still see the flames in the glass globes, but the light wasn’t traveling far, and darkness was gobbling up the interior of the car, foot by foot.
“I don’t suppose you can just put a knot in it and make it go away?” she asked.
“Nope,” I said. Evis was already making for the door, heading for the sleeper car and Winnings. I followed, but before either of us got more than a few paces, the lights from the lamps simply dwindled to nothing and we were plunged into total darkness.
People started screaming. There were bumps and thuds and crashes. Someone blundered into me, and I shoved, and they went down cussing and flailing.
Darla’s hand fell on my shoulder. “Now would be a marvelous time to do something, dear,” she said. I heard a meaty thud nearby and realized she’d lashed out with the butt of her revolver.
“Evis!” I shouted. “Gertriss! Over here!”
I heard them both reply, heard boots come thumping my way.
The screaming and yelling got louder. I could hear a commotion from the sleeping cars, assumed the absence of light was moving toward the engine.
“Matches, Evis,” I said.
I heard a scratch, did not see even a flicker of a flame. “Hold it close,” I said. I smelled smoke, and moved back when I felt the heat of it.
“Whatever you’re doing, do it quick,” Evis said.
I reached into my pocket and found the bundle of sticks the Troll had given me. I held the end of it in what I hoped was the match-flame, and waited.
For an awful moment, nothing happened. More screams sounded. Glass broke, and bodies hit the planks.
Then came a spark. A single red spark, that quickly became an ember, that then burst into a small but determined flame.
The smudge-stick lit, and its glow beat back the sorcerous darkness.
It didn’t cast much light. But enough to see the immediate area, and the carnage the darkness wrought.
Tables and chairs were overturned. So were diners, some of them crawling aimlessly, some huddled under
booths. Rowdy charged blindly up and down the corridor, shouting and waving an axe-handle at the dark.
As I watched, I realized the smoke from the stick was also exorcising the sorcerous darkness. Patches of visibility were opening up wherever the tendrils of sage-scented smoke wandered.
Gertriss wrinkled her nose. “Boss, what the hell is in that thing?” she asked.
“Sage and Troll magic words,” I said.
“Don’t breathe it too deep,” she replied. “I smell weed too.”
“Better weed than a stab wound,” I said. “Evis, take the lead. Gertriss, watch our backs. Don’t spare the scattergun; we’ll likely only get one shot.”
We moved. Evis shoved people out of the way. Getting to the wand-waver’s compartment only took a few minutes, and kicking it in only required a single effort.
Evis burst in first. I followed, Darla and Gertriss spilling in together an instant later.
The glow from the smoke-stick barely illuminated the compartment.
There, stretched out and writhing on the berth, was Winnings.
Something blunt and oily whipped back and forth from his mouth, vanishing as it forced its way down. The man’s eyes were wide and staring, his body convulsing, his throat visibly swelling as the thing in his mouth burrowed toward his lungs.
The stubby tail gave a final lash and disappeared.
Winnings bucked, gurgled, and went still.
“Oh, damn,” muttered Evis, eyeing the compartment. “Hope there’s no more of those things around.”
“You recognize it?” I asked. I hadn’t.
“Nope. Not any wartime magic I ever saw. That’s one body that needs to be burned, right now.”
“An iron box will have to do.” I went through the dead man’s pockets, found nothing but lint and a few coins. Took his hands from his throat, found them empty as well.
Darla stepped forward. “Let me,” she said. She ran her hands up and down his cape, stopped, bade me bring the light closer. “There’s something sewn into his cape, right here,” she said.
I felt for it, found it. My Army knife made short work of the cape, and in a moment I held up a small golden key.
“That’s not the Watchman’s key, is it?” asked Evis.
“Not even close,” I said. The train keys were big sturdy iron things as long as my finger. This was a tiny delicate item, more suited to opening milady’s jewelry box than a door.
I put the key in my pocket. “Wrap him up in something,” I said. The clamor from outside told me the darkness wasn’t abating beyond our own little circle of light. “Guess we’ll have to put him in the box ourselves.”
Darla and Evis stripped the berth of its sheets before tying them around the dead man.
“If anything moves, boss, I’m going to use the scattergun,” Gertriss said, aiming it at the corpse. “If that happens, just drop him and get out of the way.”
“No argument here, sister,” I said. The smoke from the bundle was making me light-headed. Giddy, even. I laughed, though at what I wasn’t sure.
“Let’s go put him in a box,” I said.
Darla giggled. “Box is a funny word,” she said. “Box, box, box.” She turned her big dark eyes upon me. “I love you,” she said. “I really do.”
I grabbed her because she was wobbling. Evis looked at us both like we’d spouted chickens from our heads.
“Damned room is too small,” he said. “Get out of here. Take deep breaths.”
“Let’s get married,” said Gertriss to Evis. “Hell with the House. Let’s get married right now.”
Evis picked her up and marched out of the compartment with her. Darla grabbed the dead man’s boots and lifted. I found his arms beneath the sheets and did the same, holding the smoke-stick in my mouth.
“They’re such a cute couple,” said Darla, and we both started laughing, but somehow we managed to get the corpse through the narrow door.
We gave up trying to locate Rowdy, so Evis just kicked the door to the luggage car open.
The sorcerous darkness hadn’t penetrated the luggage car. A glance down showed my sneaky thread had been kicked aside by a foot, a foot clever enough to have somehow entered the locked car.
We lit lanterns and hustled to get the heavy lid off an iron coffin and we dumped the unfortunate Mr. Winnings into his new home without ceremony.
None of us relaxed until we’d screwed the lid down tight.
“Nothing is getting out of that,” said Evis, thumping the lid for emphasis. “Any idea what we just sealed up?”
I shook my head. The smoke from the Troll smudge-stick burned my throat and lungs, and I was beginning to feel drunk, or something very like it.
“I’m getting the impression we’re stuck in the middle of a wand-waver feud,” I said.
“Which means this might not be over,” said Evis.
“Oh, it’s over,” I replied. “Evis. Mind staying here, and opening the crates?”
He shrugged, grinning. “Not at all. Which crates?”
“All of them,” I said. “I’m tired of being blindsided. We know Winnings was a sorcerer. Let’s see if anyone else has a trunk full of alembics.”
“Good idea,” said Evis. He casually tore the lid off a nearby box, and his vampire eyes peered inside. “Nothing here,” he said, selecting another trunk. Nails squealed in protest as Evis wrestled the lid off.
“Gertriss, Darla, I need you two with me. We’ve got a lot of panicked people to persuade.”
Darla shook her head, as if to clear it. “I could use a breath of fresh air,” she said.
“We all could. Let’s get some windows open. Follow me.”
I held my smoldering bundle aloft and headed back into the darkness.
Some dim patches of light remained, wherever the smoke had lingered. People had found them, and were huddled there. I counted sixteen men and women in the bar car, all holding steak knives or candlesticks or whatever other debris they’d found on the floor.
“Listen up,” I yelled. “The darkness is magic. So is this smoke-stick. I’m going to move around this car, spread the smoke. You’ll be able to see better after I do. Stay out of my way, keep your mouths shut, and stay put until I’m done.”
A dozen voices rose up in frantic protest.
Darla fired a round through the bar car’s ceiling. “He did say shut up,” she announced.
I worked in silence after that. It took three walks up and down the car, but when I was done, the darkness was no worse than that of a cloudy afternoon.
“Everybody, find a seat,” I said. “Gertriss, keep them here.”
“You got it,” said Gertriss, scattergun in hand.
Darla joined me at my side. “We need to get everyone out of their compartments,” I said. “I want everyone in the bar car, where I can see them. Grab Rowdy or the first conductor you see. They’re going to help.”
She nodded. I brandished my smoke-stick, and we headed into the deeply shadowed gangway of the first sleeper car.
I banged on doors. “Everyone to the bar car,” I said. Some opened, some didn’t. Darla pointed the way to the bewildered or pointed guns at the stubborn. We’d managed to move half a dozen passengers when Rowdy and a pair of conductors stumbled out of the dark.
With their help, we cleared the first car, and made for the second. The shadows were much deeper the farther forward we went. I paused from time to time, letting the smoke waft ahead of us.
“Just like the tunnels,” I muttered.
Darla squeezed my arm. “You’re not alone, this time,” she said.
I kept going.
Mrs. Krait used her bunk to barricade her door. I had to break it down, and then Rowdy had to haul her out. The Bardos also put up a fight, resulting in a black eye and a broken nose for one, who learned that Rowdy might be skinny, but knew how to throw a punch.
With everyone collected, we halted, peering into the darkness that lay ahead.
“How far forward have you been, Rowdy
?” I asked.
“As far as the tender,” he replied. “Gets a little tricky there, what without being able to see. How long is this going to last?”
I shrugged. “No idea. If it’s eclipse powder, it might last an hour or a day. Depends on how much they used, and what kind.”
Rowdy’s face fell. “We don’t have that much time,” he said. “Nobody can read the boilers. Or see the throttle. If this doesn’t lift soon, we’re in trouble, mister.”
I found my knife, put the bundle down on the floor, and cut about a third of it off from the butt-end. “Light this and take it to the engine,” I said. “Lock the damned door behind you. Don’t let anybody in until we’re stopped. Got it?”
“Got it,” he said.
Evis lit a match. They got the stub lit, and Rowdy took off, accompanied by a pair of conductors brandishing short oak clubs.
They vanished into a solid wall of midnight.
Shouts sounded from the bar car, followed by the booming report of Gertriss’s scattergun. We charged that way and I went through the door at a run, nearly colliding with Gertriss, who was holding back a mob.
Bits of debris still fell from the whistling hole in the ceiling.
“They don’t want to listen to reason, boss,” said Gertriss, holding the scattergun level. “Had to get their attention.”
I drew my revolver. Darla did the same.
The mob suddenly discovered a collective desire to sit down and behave.
“That’s better,” I said. “There’s been another murder. Shut up. We’re less than twenty minutes from stopping at Wetherneck—”
“How can anyone see to stop the train?” shouted the embalming fluid salesman. “How do you know we’re not going to just drive straight past the station?”
“How do you know I’m not going to drive my boot up your ass?” shouted Jiggles the clown, who rose from his slumber amid the booths. He stumbled through the overturned chairs to seat himself by the salesman. “Say another daft word and see if I don’t.”
“Anyone who wants off can get off,” I said. “In fact, I encourage you to. This train obviously isn’t safe.”
