Girl on a Tombstone

by Mia Strange

  “But that is in the past.” Eli let his arm slip from my shoulders. “Now, we focus on the future.” He stood and walked back to where he had left the book.

  True to form, Eli did not speak more about that night. He never talked about how many men he killed, or what his exact vengeance had been. But there had been plenty of rumors about the play of black magic that night, about the blood and death that followed. Not to mention a trail of body parts and exposed entrails and bits of brain matter splattered on windows.

  Urban legend? Or not? I shivered, suddenly cold.

  “So, they never figured out who you really were?” Traveler asked.

  “No.” Eli turned toward us with that dangerous smile back in place. “Never.”

  “And the capture of the last alchemist in the Dark Dynasty would be a prize worth any number of lives. Worth any amount of blood. And you were right there all the time.” Traveler shook his head at their stupidity. He smacked the globe again, spinning it wildly.

  We all knew The Gov searched for the legend of the young alchemist named Dark. Out of all of us, he was the most sought after. But with cunning and magic, and Elijah Dark’s powers of transformation, they couldn’t see what was right under their arrogant noses.

  Like the old tribute bands of decades ago, we were in the eyes of The Gov, nothing but a copy of what the public wanted to see of the elusive alchemist named Dr. Dark. We were second rate entertainment. Third class citizens. But? We paid The Gov a fortune in rail service tariffs, not to mention taxes that went to nothing but lining their deep, endless pockets.

  So, we were tolerated, taunted, and mostly laughed at.

  Yet through it all, we remained hidden.

  In plain sight.

  Eli was right. The Gov, the Bishops, could not be reasoned with.

  “Where did you go?” Traveler let his fingertips skim across the globe’s surface.

  “That old vaudeville actor crawled bleeding onto a handcar, and pumped his way into oblivion, disappearing onto the rails, and was never to be seen again.” Eli laughed a humorless laugh.

  “And soon, my good members, Eli winked at us, “I exact my revenge.”

  Traveler stood. He spread his arms as if addressing the crowd.

  “Until one night,” he said. “Out of the Ash Lands came a black, gleaming, monster of a locomotive. The Dark Horse arrived, taking its rightful place on the rails. Bringing a new brand of entertainment to those poor souls huddle in dank and crumbling cities.

  “And now?” Traveler bowed, “Dr. Dark’s Traveling Troupe of Oddities, Misfits, and Freaks, has become a favorite on the circuit. Even for the Bishops. Let it be known, that now, The Gov comes to Dr. Elijah Dark, not the other way around.”

  Traveler bowed before collapsing in his chair again. From his chair he finished, with as much flare as his weakened state would let him.

  “And like a serpent in the grass,” Eli continued, “Dr. Dark waits for them, baits them, studies them, and plans for a time when The Gov, when the four Bishops, will simply be, no more. And? It starts in Seattle.”

  Traveler nodded. “Right here.”

  “Here?” I whispered, shocked.

  “Indeed,” Eli swung off the cot.

  “You do have a flare for storytelling I’ll give you that, Hale.” Eli spun two connected gears and a row of the mechanical brass hands started to clap. He looked at me. “No worries, Skye. I have this.”

  “Have what exactly?”

  He smiled. “You’ll see.”

  And just like that, the subject was closed. I knew from past experiences he would share with all of us when the time was right. And all the curiosity in the world would just have to wait.

  25

  Traveler closed his eyes and hung his head once more. He massaged his temples. “I’ll be ready soon,” he said in a quiet voice.

  I watched Traveler, and guilt tugged at me as I could clearly see how he suffered. He’d given me my life, and I had to wonder as I watched the steam folding around the railcar blown in from the sea, if the magic hidden there could help him. I could not see any wonderous colors, or smell any amazing scents, but I knew it was there. Just waiting for my Chaos Magic to call it forward.

  Now was not the time. Control was not something I could safely claim. I needed Eli for guidance. I needed the Academy for support.

  Traveler stood, albeit not easily, and spun the globe once more.

  The bright, pulsating lines on the spinning globe faded in and out, turning into various shades of cobalt, teal, and turquoise.

  I watched fascinated, as the blue lines traced the journey of the Dark Horse and our Troupe as we traveled along the rails through the Ash Lands. First the lines blurred then straightened, until it reached deep into the Southwest. The line stopped at the scorpion infested ruins of what was once Santa Fe, New Mexico.

  Traveler halted the spinning globe by slapping his broad hand, covering Santa Fe. He raised his head to look across the room at the Owl Kachina which stood encased in a glass dome.

  Following his gaze, I too, looked at the intricately hand—carved doll made of painted cottonwood root. I hadn’t seen the tattered, vintage doll since we found it clutched in the dying hands of an old Hopi, just before the ancient Shaman turned into the last phase of gray— Dead and Done.

  The glass dome stood on a dusty, cluttered shelf of assorted curios and trinkets.

  There was a Guru tribal mask from the Ivory Coast. Shadow puppets made of water buffalo hide from South East Asia. Prayer wheels from Tibet, and strings of trade beads from Nairobi. There were smooth river rocks collected from a dry and dying creek bed, meticulously stacked in high, crooked towers. There was a bird’s nest with a vivid blue egg nestled inside.

  A box of brass tacks. A metal thimble. A moonstone. An ancient opium pipe with a tiny key attached. . .

  There was a pair of tiny infant shoes shaped like dragons from China. And a row of tall Hill Tribe hats from Thailand, adorned with brilliant silk threads and seashells and bells of pounded silver.

  All these items, precious and now rare, were collected from faraway places that sadly, were not what they had once been.

  Standing among them all was the little owl, hiding, just like us, in plain sight.

  The doll was carved from cottonwood root. The large yellow eyes, always staring, always questioning, made me uncomfortable.

  But then, why wouldn’t it? The doll after all, was haunted.

  This Kachina, this little fourteen—inch image of a native dancer, disguised as a Great Horned Owl, had been puzzle piece number one. Representing the souls of every walking dead, the owl encased the magic of the old Hopi Shaman. And whereas the Shaman’s magic was not strong enough to win a battle against the bite of the zombie, it was strong enough to infuse his soul during the moment of his death into the wooden figure.

  But what had made this little doll so significant? When the Shaman passed his soul into nothing more than cottonwood and paint and tiny bits of pounded silver, the souls of the rotting dead went with him.

  All of them.

  All that were lost. All that had yet to come.

  And that? Was significant.

  Significant because once our ley lines were followed, once the final clue was found and collected, we would be able to release the souls, release them to travel the road they were meant to take. Heaven? Hell? It didn’t matter.

  What mattered? Was the dead would stop.

  Stop rising.

  Stop walking.

  Stop biting and infecting.

  Just, stop.

  Thus, chapter one, titled, THE SOUL CATCHER, in The Dark and Curious Volume of Rare and Unusual Alchemy, was brought to a close. We had the souls. Encased in the Kachina. But now? In order to release them, we’d moved on two months ago, to chapter two, titled, WHEN ANGELS FALL.

  Having read the chapter, and with a hard spin of the globe, we’d been led to the crumbing arches of St. Louis. Right into the not so welcoming arms of a demo
n named Darius.

  Clue number two.

  Captured, cataloged, and filed away in a locomotive named the Dark Horse, Darius was demoted from a free roaming raging monster of terror, to a jailed, raging monster of terror. One that now help fuel our boiler. And I have to say, to his credit, our train had never been faster.

  Darius was our first elemental element. When the time was right, when all the clues had been found, when we were ready to piece them together, Darius, who spewed flames and spit bits of molten lava, would bring the heat. He was brimstone and fire after all.

  Traveler got up and walked over to the Kachina. He tapped at the glass. The little owl cocked its head and blinked large yellow eyes. Not just anyone’s magic could make the owl move. Only a necromancer and Dr. Dark could do it.

  “Do me a favor? Don’t stir up his ghost,” I said. “Not really up for visitors.”

  Traveler turned, and mimicking the owl, cocked his head, blinked his eyes and said, “Who?”

  “Funny, Hale.”

  Eli walked over and gave Traveler a pat on the shoulder. “Way past time for you to be heading out. Dawn broke an hour ago.”

  “I know. I can feel it down to my bones,” Traveler’s voice sounded beyond weary.

  “Help to your railcar?”

  “Naw. I’ll just bunk with Darius. Shorter distance.”

  Eli nodded and I knitted my eyebrows trying once again to figure out the mystery of Traveler Hale. His railcar was one of the furthest back, true. But bunking with Darius? Not the best choice. Or the safest.

  “Not my idea of a slumber party,” I said. “Does he even have popcorn? And, I don’t want to even think about his pajamas. Please tell me they don’t have flames on them.”

  “No popcorn.” Traveler smiled. “But he does have plenty of fire to pop it. And as for pajamas? He doesn’t wear any.”

  I covered my eyes. “Thanks. That’s a visual I’ll never get out of my head.”

  Traveler laughed. “Relax, Skye. Darius does not sleep. Therefore, he has no use for pajamas.”

  “Oh. Well good.” I lowered my hands. “Wait a minute. He never sleeps?

  “Never.”

  “No wonder he’s always so damn cranky.”

  Traveler shrugged. “I’ve slept in worse places.” He walked over to me where I sat up on Eli’s bed and paused. “The finding magic is gone.” I can’t sense it, and if any remained, I would. You’re safe, Skye. So is the Academy. At least for now.”

  I nodded. “Eli told me. Um. Thanks. A lot.” I felt that tell—tale color of embarrassment climb in my cheeks. I was grateful, so very grateful. But honestly? I just didn’t know the first thing about thanking Traveler Hale. I didn’t really know the first thing about him.

  Traveler nodded. “You’re most welcome.”

  “And the Raised?” I whispered.

  Traveler paused. Then cocked his head, asking for permission to sit. I nodded. “Please, Traveler. You have to tell me. The tombstone—”

  “A Gov spy, who ironically enough, stumbled on a trail of finding magic. Which brought him here.”

  “The Gov. Looking for?” I let the question hang between us, but I knew the answer, didn’t I? How could a building crashing down not be noticed? How?

  Traveler simply shrugged. “When a city skyline changes, people notice.”

  “It is powerful magic, isn’t it? This finding magic.”

  “In the right hands, very. But this guy didn’t fully realize what he’d found. Much less where it would lead to.”

  “But he was looking for whoever or whatever brought down a building in the off—map zone last night.”

  “Correct.”

  “And that someone was me.”

  “Of course. But they don’t know that. It was only a guess.”

  “A damn good one, I’d say.”

  “Maybe. But I think it’s more like a hollow hope for a lead. It’s, how do you say it? Ah. A shot in the dark.”

  “They are still looking for me, aren’t they?”

  “It would seem.”

  “They’ll never stop.”

  “Not until we turn the tides on them.”

  I watched as his whiskey brown eyes turned black with warning.

  “And then?” I whispered.

  “Then the hunted— that’s us by the way. Become the hunters.”

  “But, why would someone kill him?”

  “I don’t know.” Traveler sunk his hands deep into his pockets. “Maybe you have a guardian out there.”

  “What? Someone who may know the truth?”

  “It’s possible.”

  Something hit me square in my gut. I recognized the punch. It was fear, raw and razor sharp, trying yet again to steal my breath away.

  “But not probable,” Eli said as he walked in and put a comforting hand on my head. Finally. He’d returned. He motioned for Traveler to scoot over, and soon all three of us were sitting on the bed. It bowed and groaned under our collective weight, and I felt like a kid again, sharing a bunk with Emma at our cabin.

  Eli still held the ancient book of The Dark and Curious Volume of Rare and Unusual Alchemy in his hand. He put the book down. I knew he had been studying chapter three, titled, The Mermaid’s Tears. The chapter that had brought us to Seattle.

  “Look,” he said. “There were no witnesses that I or Dagger could find. The dog is thorough. There were only the off—chain zombies that, thanks to Pilot and Jin, are long gone.”

  “And if Phil saw anything, I’m sure he’d speak right up. That alone has to be reassuring.” Traveler smiled broadly at his joke.

  And why did I think he didn’t really believe his own words? Still, the reassurance brought a smile to my own lips and I reached for his hand. “Thanks,” I said again. Traveler took my hand in his.

  “You’re more than welcome, lovely.”

  I felt a cold, icy and stinging sensation. His hand was freezing. My instinct was to clutch his hand in both of mine, an attempt to warm him up. But in the next second, the magic flowed between us. Not the soft prickles that danced across my skin when Eli and I touched. No, it was more like a lick of hot flames. A zap of lightning. The kick of a gun. I gasped, dropped his hand, and pulled away from him.

  Traveler tilted his head, puzzled. How could he not have felt that?

  Eli noticed. “You best be off, Hale. The sun…”

  Traveler nodded and turned to go. Once more he paused in thought. “Elijah.” He looked back over his shoulder. “When will you test the eye? The Raised was attacked from behind. He said he did not see death coming.”

  “Any last memories?” Eli asked.

  “As usual, his very last memories were shall I say, confused.”

  Confused. Right. I knew what that meant. The corpse had figured out quickly that he was dead, and doomed to stay that way. So yeah, last memories? I’m guessing he could give a damn if he shared them or not. He was too busy trying to bargain his way out of a hopeless situation. I felt a jolt of sadness stab at my heart.

  “Anything on the tombstone?”

  “Nothing, he had no memory of the drawing. Which means—”

  “He was not the one who drew it,” Eli finished.

  “I would agree.” Traveler nodded his head in thought.

  Eli sighed. “Soon. I’ll get to the eye soon.”

  I looked at the exhaustion etched in Eli’s face. And even though I knew he only slept on average four or five hours a night I could see that the insanity I had caused was catching up with him.

  “Well then, goodnight. Or, I should say good morning.” Traveler did that formal bow of his and approached the sliding iron doors. Pulling at the brass chain, the pulley system of greased wheels and gears slid the heavy double doors smoothly open. Daylight, gray and murky filtered in, making a dull path across the floorboards.

  Traveler pulled up his collar, and moving with that uncanny speed of his, he jumped out the door and was on the ground before I could say goodbye.

  D
agger, waiting outside, jumped to his feet. Sending a growl echoing through the empty train station, the dog lunged at Traveler. Incredibly fast, Dagger jumped, hit empty air, and tumbled to the ground. The dog’s copper shin guards slapped loudly against the pavement, as the dog stumbled and rolled. He was on his feet, ready to give chase, when a sharp whistle pierced the morning air. The huge dog skidded to an abrupt stop, where he continued to growl and snap at nothing but air.

  I shielded my eyes with my arm against the light, and watched as Traveler ran toward the engine that housed Darius. I was right. There was a good deal of red in his mahogany hair. I found the color unusual. Beautiful even. But it was what happened next that had me standing up and really paying attention.

  Just before he disappeared from my sight entirely, I swear. I saw smoke rising from the back of Traveler’s leather duster.

  “Eli. Look.” I pointed, but Traveler was nowhere to be seen. Man, that guy was fast. Only a trace of wispy vapors trailing in the early morning light was left. I squinted and strained to look.

  Smoke. Right?

  Or was it simply sea fog crawling around the train like the fingers of a ghost? Or perhaps a foul breath escaping from Darius. But what was that smell? Like burning leaves, or a smoldering campfire.

  Eli came up behind me. “What?”

  “I thought I saw— ow. Ow!” I lost my balance and flopped back on the mattress as my back roared in a flare of new pain. I sat up and clawed at Eli’s shirt trying desperately to pull the garment over my head.

  “What is it?” Eli grabbed the fabric to give me a hand.

  “My back. Stinging, burning. Like a thousand bee stings. Like fire. Oh shit. Eli, it hurts.”

  “The hell?” Eli grabbed hard at the fabric, and the shirt ripped as he yanked it away. Buttons bounced and rolled along the wood floors.

  Standing behind me, Eli whistled low. “Don’t know how I missed this. You’ve got a hell of a burn going there, like, a sunburn. Only. . .”

  “Only what?”

  “Only a bit worse.”

  “A bit? A bit? It feels like way more than a bit. Ow. Holy shi—”