Blood Curse: Book 2 of the Blood War Chronicles

by Quincy Allen

  Cole shook his head. “Nothing. I’da nudged you sooner if them zepps were anywhere around close.”

  “Hopefully they’re searching up north for us.” Jake shook his head, not believing the branches had actually worked. “Looks like my luck is still holding.”

  “Hope I’m not around when it runs out, Jake,” Cole replied all too seriously.

  “I kinda hope you are. I mean, who else would bail me out?”

  “You surely would be in a world of hurt if I wasn’t.”

  Jake’s eye picked up the ripple of water just around a bend in the ravine. “Hey, look. We made it,” Jake said, obviously impressed with himself.

  Cole turned to see a wide, shallow river come into view. He smiled at the sight of it. “We did … this far. But don’t get cocky, amigo. We got a ways to go.”

  Lumpy led the wagon around a clump of pines where the ravine emptied into the river, and Cole steered him into the water.

  “Does the river get too deep for Lumpy between here and there?” Jake asked, looking at the rocks beneath the rippling surface.

  Cole shook his head. “Naw. But it also doesn’t make it all the way to Roswell.” He got Lumpy about ten feet from the shore where the water was halfway up to the bull’s knees. As Lumpy sank, the floating wagon sank slightly. The envelopes beneath the wagon touched the water. Lumpy’s harness went slack, and Cole had to shake the reins to get Lumpy to pick up the pace just a touch. “We’d have to leave the river a few miles outside of Roswell, but they’ll know we’re there long before we do.”

  “They keep scouts rolling around out here?” Jake said, thinking about the war between the Free Territories and the Texas Republic.

  “Horseback scouts and a slew of smaller zepps. Last I heard, they even had a few mechanized assault units, but I ain’t heard much in the past couple years. Sorta lost touch, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know how it goes.”

  Cole yawned fiercely, his back popping in a few places as he stretched his arms above his head.

  “I think you may need some shut-eye,” Jake said, looking at his partner. He turned to the back of the wagon. “Hey Ghiss, you good for a few more hours back there?”

  “Indeed I am, sir,” Ghiss called back, not even turning his head. “I find myself truly enjoying the journey.” Jake and Cole looked at each other. “Believe me, I’m as surprised as you are,” Ghiss continued. “It has been quite some time since I was able to simply sit back, enjoy the sunshine, and sing the songs of my youth. I believe I should be fine until sundown if the need arises. Mr. McJunkins should get some rest. He’s had a difficult time, to be sure, and I have no doubt my musical interludes did not improve his state of mind. I simply could not restrain myself on this glorious morning.”

  Cole’s mouth dropped open as he looked at the back of Ghiss’ head. After a few seconds, he popped his mouth closed. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” He handed the reins to Jake and quietly climbed into the back of the wagon. He was careful not to wake Skeeter as he stepped up onto the Lady’s crate. Reaching into the pile of supplies provided by Captain Wordsworth, he grabbed a bedroll, lay on one end of the crate, and then leaned back onto it. Cole shifted a few times to get comfortable and then grabbed his hat, lowering it slightly over his eyes.

  “Hey, Ghiss?”

  “Yes, Mr. McJunkins.”

  “Thanks.”

  Seconds ticked by, and then Ghiss simply said, “It is my pleasure, sir.”

  Jake could hear the smile in Ghiss’ mechanical voice, and he couldn’t keep from grinning. Jake would be really inclined to like Ghiss if the mercenary wasn’t such a heartless, cold-blooded killer. Jake often wondered at how the hell he managed to be in situations like this one, riding with people like Ghiss. It wasn’t the first time, and probably wouldn’t be the last. He shook his head and gave the reins a nudge to get Lumpy headed along the edge of the shoreline. “I shoulda’ been a doctor,” he muttered.

  “What was that?” Cole asked.

  “Nuthin’,” Jake said, still shaking his head. “Just bitching.”

  Cole chuckled but stopped dead when a not-so-distant sound of zeppelin rotors perked up everyone’s ears. He sat up quickly. “You hear that?” he asked a bit nervously.

  “I surely do,” Jake had a feeling his luck was about to run out. He scanned the shoreline ahead for any sort of cover. There was a patch of trees ahead on their side of the river. He slapped the reins against Lumpy’s back, and the bull doubled his pace. The sound of the rotors drew nearer. “Better get ready with the Thumper and that chaingun, boys. This could turn into a ruckus … Skeeter!”

  “Hunh? What?” she said as she started from a sound sleep. “What’s wrong Jake?”

  Cole grabbed the Thumper as Ghiss stood up in the back of the wagon and slung the chaingun off his back.

  “We’re about to have company. Get them poppers ready, and if I tell you to head into the trees, you do it, you hear me?”

  “Yessir!” There was a bit of nervousness in her voice, but there was also a fair amount of resolve.

  Lumpy closed in on the trees as the zeppelin approached from behind. Jake figured the zeppelin was probably following the river. The sound drew nearer, and he guesstimated the wagon wouldn’t make the trees in time. Then Lady Dănești’s parting words floated up to him … Don’t worry about being spotted by Szilágyi.

  Jake pulled back on the reins and Lumpy came to an abrupt halt along the shoreline, well short of any kind of cover.

  “Jake, what are you doing?” Cole shouted.

  “Well, we ain’t gonna make those trees, and I guess it’s as good a time as any to test a theory.”

  Lumpy took the opportunity to start sucking up as much water as he could.

  “Theory? What the hell are you talking about?” Cole blurted. He trusted Jake, but getting caught out in the open beneath a platform of heavy machine guns, and anything else Szilágyi might have, clearly didn’t sound like a good idea.

  The rotors sounded almost on top of them. “Cole, see if you can get a bead on their bridge with the Thumper. Tell me what you see as they pass over. Don’t fire unless I say so, but set it to Hammer. Hit it with the whole charge if it comes down to it.”

  “You got it Jake,” Cole replied a bit nervously as he raised the scope to his eye.

  The nose of a single, sky-blue zeppelin came into view from behind a low hill, and it was clearly following the course of the river at about two hundred feet. “It’s blue …” Jake said. Guess they can blend in with just about anything, he thought.

  Jake looked more closely. The faint shimmer of a shield surrounded the ship. He had to wonder if the Thumper would even get through.

  “There’s three men in the bridge,” Cole said worriedly. “One’s at the wheel and two others are up against the glass scanning the riverbed.… What the—”

  The zeppelin approached and then passed right over them.

  “Did they see us?”

  “Hang on.…” Cole said quietly, focused on the zeppelin. “There’s two men in an aft deck, scanning the river.…” Cole added. He tracked the zeppelin with the Thumper as it passed over and continued aiming the weapon until the zepp was far downstream. It disappeared around a bend, and when he lowered the rifle, there was a confused look on his face. “I don’t get it.”

  “Well?” Jake insisted.

  “Jake, all four of those spotters looked straight at us.” He locked eyes with his partner, dumfounded. “Not one of them gave any sign they spotted us. It’s like we weren’t even here.”

  Jake let out a weak chuckle. His luck was still holding, and he couldn’t believe it. He’d never tell the rest of them, but when he heard the rotors, he was pretty convinced their goose was about to be cooked.

  “Guess we were due for a miracle.” Jake looked back at Ghiss who was staring squarely at the Lady’s box, and then his oculars rose to meet Jake’s gaze. Jake couldn’t tell if Ghiss knew that the Lady was in the mix, but he at
least suspected it.

  “So what now?” Cole asked. “We keep going, right?”

  “It’s still the only play we have, amigo.” Jake sat back down in the driver’s seat and grabbed the reins. “You might as well get back down there and get some shut-eye. Skeeter?”

  “Yeah?” Skeeter stood and stepped up behind Jake.

  “You get enough sleep for a stint on the back of this rig? You get the Thumper.”

  “Hell yes!” she squealed.

  “Ghiss, how ’bout you come on up here for a while.”

  “If you like,” Ghiss agreed easily.

  Skeeter moved to the back, grabbing the Thumper proffered by Cole as she went by, and the mercenary came forward. Cole lay back down, placing his hat over his eyes.

  Jake shook the reins and got Lumpy moving again. For a while the only sounds were Lumpy’s hooves splashing through the water and Cole’s snoring, but Jake didn’t intend to let it last. There was something on his mind.

  The question of why Ghiss hadn’t killed him back at the gauntlet in San Fran had been eating at him, and now was as good a time as any to ask.

  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Jake said quietly.

  “I shall endeavor to clarify anything that might have you befuddled, Mister Lasater.” Ghiss stared straight ahead, presumably taking in the landscape.

  Jake paused for a second. He thought back to the fight in San Fran before they boarded the Jezebel. Ghiss had leapt down and knocked Jake off the wagon. He could have just as easily shot Jake in the back, or even the front for that matter, once he was down. But he didn’t.

  “I can’t figure out why I’m still alive.”

  Ghiss didn’t hesitate. “I would imagine you have a fair amount of luck, and you are a remarkably clever fellow. I fully intend to remark upon it to people once this whole ordeal is over. The decoy with the branches, for example. I must admit that even I was impressed with such inspired deception. You should consider my vocation. I believe you would do well, sir.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about, and I’m pretty sure you know it.”

  “Why didn’t I shoot you in the back in San Francisco when I had the chance?” Ghiss asked, and his voice was as smooth as silk despite the mechanized voice.

  “Yeah. That.” Jake stared at Ghiss, trying to get a read on the man, but it was impossible. Ghiss might just as well have been a mannequin sitting beside him.

  “Bargaining chip, Mister Lasater. You were merely a bargaining chip in a much larger game. And perhaps a means to an end.”

  “Bargaining chip?” Jake hadn’t looked at it that way, but the answer seemed a bit thin. “Hell, Szilágyi admitted he wanted me dead. Seems to me that I was more liability than benefit.”

  “You may find this hard to believe, Mister Lasater,” Ghiss finally looked at Jake, his oculars steady, “but I don’t kill a man unless it’s in the contract or I have to do so in order to complete my business. A dead man has no value at all in my game, unless someone paid to have him meet an untimely demise.”

  Jake had to admit, Ghiss’ answer was plausible. Something still bothered him about it, though, and he couldn’t put his finger on it.

  “I know I can’t ask you who you were working for, but I reckon I can ask you who you ain’t working for. I keep thinking back to those two assault units in San Fran. There ain’t no doubt they were modified Confederacy models, which points directly at Cromwell. You ain’t working for Cromwell, are you?”

  Ghiss turned slowly, staring at Jake for a few heartbeats. Finally, he answered in a slow, deliberate voice, “I wouldn’t normally share something like this, but the answer is no, I’m not working for Cromwell. I will tell you that he is in this game, but I don’t take orders from him.”

  Jake ran a finger over the folded piece of paper in his pocket, considering the possibilities. “You ever hear of a man named Norton?”

  Ghiss’ answer was immediate and firm. “Never heard of him.”

  Jake’s poker senses kicked in, and the answer sounded like every bluff he’d ever heard. He answered too quickly, he thought. Jake considered about what had been on the page from Norton, about the person tasked with killing Crowe Galley, the man who had killed Jake’s father. Could NS-1 be the Nightstalker? It was thin, but in Jake’s experience, thin usually meant the only answer.

  Could Ghiss somehow be working for Norton? Or had he at least done contract work for the strange madman? But was he working for Norton now? He decided to test the waters. The last sentence on that piece of paper indicated Cromwell was being saved for something special. Termination of 7943 is not recommended as it may jeopardize Operation T. Jake desperately wanted to know what Operation T was.

  “I’m gonna kill him, just so you know.”

  “Who?” Ghiss’ reply seemed too innocent, as if he knew the answer.

  “Cromwell.”

  “Why?” Ghiss paused for a moment. “Because he arranged for that slaughter on Jackinaw?” he offered.

  That caught Jake off guard. “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Didn’t you hear?” The smile was back in Ghiss’ voice. “It is my understanding that his son’s involvement was mere happenstance all those years ago. He’d had the intention, or at least hope, that you would be the one racing up that hill into that hornet’s nest of Confederate guns and armor.”

  Jake remembered Forsythe’s words about kicking the hornet’s nest. Could Ghiss know about that? “Why would Cromwell want me dead? And how could you possibly know all this?”

  “Let’s just say it’s a rumor I heard. As to why he wanted you dead? It’s impossible to say.”

  Jake didn’t know what to think, but his resolve regarding Cromwell had even more steel behind it now. “He’s a dead man,” Jake growled.

  Again, slowly, Ghiss answered, “Good. That would seem … appropriate.

  “Now let me ask you a question,” Ghiss’ voice got silky once again, and Jake sensed a trap. “Why do you think that zeppelin passed right over us, as Mister McJunkins observed? They certainly couldn’t have missed us.”

  Jake wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about the Lady yet, although there wasn’t much chance he could hold on to that little secret much longer. He also knew Ghiss at least suspected something.

  He put on his best poker face. “Well, it’s possible they were headed for someplace, maybe Roswell or someplace near there.”

  “That’s certainly plausible, Mister Lasater, although only remotely. But that’s not the reason they missed us, and you know it.”

  “What’s he talking about, Jake?” Cole sat up behind him, obviously not asleep. “I gotta admit, he’s got you there. We were right in front of them. Even if they had someplace else to be, all they had to do was open fire and strafe us.”

  “Indeed, Mister Lasater. What sort of theory could possibly explain the behavior of such dogged and relentless men? Aside from blindness, that is. But that would make them less-than-useful spotters, now wouldn’t it?” Jake didn’t miss the smile in Ghiss’ voice. Ghiss probably knew that Jake couldn’t lie to Cole.

  “Yeah … well, about that … Lady Dănești said something about us not having to worry about being seen by Szilágyi.”

  “When?” Cole asked, confused. “In San Francisco?”

  Jake hesitated. “Well … no. She mentioned it later, before we left the Jezebel back there.” He turned and faced Cole as he spoke. Ghiss nodding his head slightly.

  Cole’s face went blank, almost stony, contemplating what Jake had just said. After a few heartbeats, his eyes went wide and he stared down at the box he sat upon. He looked at Jake with his eyebrows raised.

  All Jake did was nod his head.

  “You mean …”

  “She’s been here the whole time, right there in that … reliquary, she called it. I reckon she worked some magic so’s we couldn’t be seen from above.”

  “Her presence also explains how you managed to walk away from a belly
wound with nothing more than ruined garments,” Ghiss added.

  “Belly wound?” Cole asked. Jake hadn’t had time to explain anything to Cole about getting shot.

  “Yep,” Jake said, looking down at the dried blood that still covered his shirt, vest, and pants. “This is my blood, amigo, not someone else’s. I took a burst in the belly. I was all but dead. The Lady’s magic saved me. I owe her my life.”

  “Jesus,” Cole mumbled under his breath, concern coming through loud and clear.

  Jake couldn’t tell if Cole was concerned about Jake getting shot or the Lady lying within the reliquary beneath him.

  “What’s wrong?” Jake asked.

  “Nothin’, Jake. I’m just glad you’re still in one piece.” Cole looked down at the Lady’s box, and Jake could see worry in Cole’s eyes. “There is something on my mind, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How come she’s still in the box?” The question gave everyone pause, and they all looked at Jake expectantly.

  “Yeah, well, she made some mention of being cursed … about not seeing daylight ever again.” Jake scratched the back of his head. “I ain’t heard much about such things, but I reckon this is a pretty bad one.”

  “A curse, hunh?” Cole said. There was clearly something bothering him about the Lady, now more than before. “Sometimes I wish I’d listened more to Tante Lid,” he grumbled.

  “What?” Jake asked.

  “Nothin’,” Cole said quietly. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Chapter Nine

  Legless Memory

  “Lord knows I had enough bad memories for three lifetimes. Every now and again, though, something out of the ordinary would crop up and kick a good memory out of the dust and get me feeling like I was still human deep down inside.”

  ~ Jake Lasater

  They ambled down the river wordlessly, each lost in their own thoughts or dreams. The steady rhythm of Lumpy’s hooves plodding through the shallow water lulled everyone into a sense of ease that belied their circumstances.

  The midday sun beat down on them as they rounded a bend in the river. The banks that had sheltered them with ragged escarpments opened up into a delta of sorts, with swaths of loose cottonwood and ash lining the rocky shoreline.