by Quincy Allen
Ghiss nodded. “Why, yes, I did.” His words were flat, emotionless. “And I will be forever damned for it, among a great number of other unavoidable transgressions of the human spirit that this existence has required of me. But they were always—every one of them—undertaken with a noble purpose.” Ghiss paused, staring at Jake for long seconds, as if he were debating something within himself. When he spoke again, his southern drawl faltered … faded slightly, and Jake would swear there was more than a hint of Missouri in Ghiss’ words. “You accused me once of not having a soul. I’m sorry to say that you couldn’t have been more mistaken. It is my sincerest hope that someday you come to understand the depth of your misconception.”
“Who are you working for?” Jake asked, ignoring Ghiss’ words. It sounded like Ghiss thought of himself as some sort of hero … or wanted absolution … or both.
Ghiss’ drawl returned. “You haven’t changed much, have you? Still as bullheaded as ever. It’s no wonder you and that Brahma get along so well. You were cut from the same cloth.” Ghiss shook his head. “I held up my part of the bargain, and I believe our arrangement is now concluded … J.J.” Ghiss added, emphasizing the initials.
Jake’s mouth dropped open at the use of his boyhood nickname. The head tilt. The change in accent. It all fell together in a whirlwind of memory that took Jake’s breath away. He felt like someone had kicked him in the gut.
Ghiss stepped backward toward the doorway. “Until we meet again, and I am sure we will.” He took half a step back. “Oh, and before we meet again J.J., there is one question you should give a great deal of thought to: ‘Why didn’t I blow the whole shield tower?’” Ghiss tapped the brim of his hat and took one more long step backward, into open air. “Good day.”
Jake’s arms hung loosely at his sides, his shoulders drooping. He was unable to do anything but stare as Ghiss disappeared beneath the edge of the cargo hold door.
Jake stepped up to the edge as Ghiss fell toward a mountain lake. At the last instant, Ghiss fired the jetpack, slowed his decent, and skimmed across the water, disappearing into a forest of pines.
Corina stepped up beside him and placed her hand gently on his arm. “Jake, are you alright?”
“No.”
She stiffened beside him and squeezed his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Jake bit off the words like they were rancid meat. He turned his back on her and started reloading his pistols.
“Well,” she said almost defensively, “what about the others?”
“They’ll be fine.” Jake’s voice was terse. “They’ll start moving in a couple of minutes. Won’t remember a thing.”
Jake stalked off toward the corridor he and Skeeter had come through, leaving Corina with a worried look on her face.
“Jake?” she called after him quietly.
Jake paused in the doorway, turning his head slightly. “Don’t tell them any of what Ghiss said. Just say that he took a jetpack and left … please.”
She could hear the desperation in his voice, the pain.
The attack on Roswell rested heavily on Jake’s shoulders. He was responsible for all those deaths. He’d brought Ghiss in, just like the mercenary wanted him to. And Ghiss’ revelation made it a hundred times worse. Jake walked down the corridor, the sound of his boots broken only by rounds he shoved fiercely into the cylinders of his Colts.
Chapter Twenty-four
Homecoming
“Her home was a tomb.”
~ Captain Jane Wilson
“Won’t people see us?” Jake asked as Pandora Celtica crossed the last range of peaks, the sun setting behind them. Denver was just a mottled brown splotch breaking up the darkening plains to the southeast. His voice was cold, almost distant. He’d said little as they gathered on the bridge and made their way from the shadowgate over Grand Lake.
Corina had done as he asked, simply telling of Ghiss’ escape. Everyone assumed Jake was simply frustrated at not getting his hands on Ghiss, which was true … in part.
Every now and again Corina cast him a worried, sidelong glance, but he ignored it. And through all of it, Cole stayed silent.
“Ruby, would you be so kind?” Shadowcat said, smiling at Jake.
Ruby smiled as well and then stepped up to the empty window frames. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, seeming to just enjoy the smell of the Rocky Mountains. After a few moments she pulled one of the pouches from her belt and poured a shining, silvery powder into her cupped palm. She took another deep breath, held her palm up to her lips, and said, “nThall na súile, cruthh an fhís, thój an ruth a fheiceáil mé, théan sé mianach, athhraijh a ajhaithh, eile beithh sé.”
The dust in her palm glowed bright with a silvery light. She blew into it and concentrated, watching it swirl out of her hand in streams and veils that expanded as they poured through the window.
The swirling turned into a curtain of rainbow-hued light before their eyes, expanding, spreading around the gondola and the undulating dragon above them. For a few seconds, Pandora Celtica was shrouded in the light. The curtain solidified, making it difficult to see the plains beyond, and then it faded to nothing.
“There,” she said, turning toward them. “Now we look like just another zeppelin.”
“Thank you, madame,” Shadowcat said. “Corina, where are we headed?”
She spoke from the doorway. “The man said there is a railway that runs south of Denver. Follow that for about thirty miles through rolling hills and a few canyons. On the east side of the railway rises a small mountain, and at its top is a large pillar of stone. On the east side of that is the keep, built into the base of the pillar.”
“Castle Rock?” Jake said. “We’re going to Castle Rock?”
“That’s right, Jake,” she said gently. “The man who sold the property called it that. He owns a lot of land down there.”
“Small world,” Jake replied, his tone cold but warming a little. The Tabor house was only twenty or so miles from Castle Rock. Amidst the dark storm clouds that had enshrouded his heart, he felt the spark again. For her.
Of all the places in the world, she finds a keep buried inside a mountain in my back yard. The notion of his destiny being tied to Corina’s solidified just a little bit more.
“Smaller than you know, Jake,” she replied.
The bridge went silent as they crossed over Denver, heading south. Everyone knew Jake didn’t want to talk about what was bothering him, Cole especially. Losing Ghiss, the man responsible for what had happened at Roswell, hit everyone hard.
Passing over a low, smooth ridge, the pillar of stone came into view, its eastern face highlighted in moonlight. At the base of its western slope squatted a handful of small buildings, light coming through the windows of only a few.
“That has to be it,” Shadowcat said, pointing to the formation. “Nessa, drop us down along that eastern face and we’ll see if we can’t get Corina into her new home.”
Pandora Celtica descended quickly and leveled off thirty feet above the pines. The pillar grew quickly before them.
“There,” Corina said, pointing. “At the base of that deep, vertical notch.”
“I see a place for us to land not far from there,” Nessa said brightly. Of all of them, she seemed to have the highest spirits. Jake surmised that she never let anything get her down, and he wished he could do the same thing.
Pandora Celtica settled in amongst the trees, and everyone moved down to the hold. They passed several members of the crew who were already inspecting all the damage done during the gunfight.
“I’m sorry about your ship, Shadowcat,” Jake said somberly as they stepped into the galley.
“Don’t be,” Shadowcat said, turning his head. He had a strange look on his face, a mixture of comfort, sadness, and resolve. “This fight goes back four hundred years. There has always been destruction … and casualties.” He placed his hand on Jake’s shoulder as they walked, comforting him. “Y
ou know who … and what the true enemy is. Now you just have to decide whether or not you’re prepared to face him … and embrace a destiny you don’t believe in.”
Jake went silent. He knew what the answer was. He had from the moment Ghiss dropped away from the zeppelin.
They reached the cargo hold where more of Shadowcat’s people worked at cleaning up the mess. The bodies of Szilágyi’s troopers had been tossed out the cargo bay doors shortly after they passed through the shadowgate—food for coyotes.
There was a hushed pause as they stood in the doorway beside a large crate that had been set aside from the others. It contained Corina’s belongings, transferred from her reliquary before they left. The remaining three thousand in gold, payment for the job, lay next to that in a small dynamite box.
Corina stepped up to Shadowcat and hugged him warmly. “Thank you,” she said. “You’ve always been there for me.”
“And I always will be,” he replied, smiling gently.
“Ruby, Nessa,” she said. “It was good to see you all again.” She gave them each a hug, and Jake could see that all three of them were teary-eyed.
“Cole,” she said, stepping up to him. She hesitated, fearful that he might still be uncomfortable with her. He opened his arms and they embraced. “Thank you for everything. I know this was hard on you … more than the others.”
“I hope you’ll be safe here,” he replied as she stepped back.
“Skeeter.” Corina turned and they embraced. “Don’t let Jake give you any trouble.”
“Yes ma’am,” Skeeter replied.
“I don’t know how to express my gratitude … to all of you. There are times when I feel so utterly alone. But it’s people like you who make this all seem bearable.” She bowed to everyone, a gracious thank you from a gracious, noble Lady. “Now if you will excuse us, I want to show Jake the entrance. At least one of you should know how to get in.…” her voice trailed off. “Just in case.” She gave them a weak smile and then turned to the crate beside her.
Closing her eyes for several seconds, she uttered, “Ó dalamh jo haer arthú ajus seol.” The crate lifted off the ground as she walked down a gangplank the crew had set down.
Jake followed and stepped in stride beside her, silent. They both dreaded what lay before them.
The pillar of Castle Rock loomed above. Corina picked her way through the trees up to its base, heading as straight as she could through the forest toward the deep notch cut into the pillar.
They stepped into the declivity, and Corina kneeled before an old deer antler weathered by time. She ran her finger up from one of the prongs and stopped at a patch of green lichen. Then she pressed it with a metallic CLICK.
The notch split before them with a sound of rolling gears. A dark passageway appeared.
“Nifty,” Jake said.
“Can you find this again if you have to?” she asked, turning to him.
“With my eyes closed,” he replied evenly.
She rushed into his arms. There were no tears, from either of them, but they were being torn apart inside.
“I wish things were different,” she said.
“I know. Me, too.” He turned her face up to his and kissed her. They both felt the fire, and for a while, they let it take hold, getting lost in the passion they had for one another.
Finally, Jake released her and stepped back. “I’ve got Skeeter, and she deserves a shot at what she can take from this life. But I’ll be back as often as I can. You know that.”
She looked up at him, taking his hand in hers. “Don’t take too long.”
“I’ll be back in a few weeks at the latest. And I’ll have a present for you.”
They hugged one last time and parted.
Jake turned and walked back down the hill, his insides in turmoil.
Chapter Twenty-five
The Call of Duty
“I wondered if I’d ever see him again.”
~ Cole McJunkins
Shadowcat dropped them off in the darkness, and after a few quick goodbyes, Pandora Celtica sailed off into the night. Jake, Cole, and Skeeter slipped quietly into the house and went to their rooms. Two of them slept like the dead.
One didn’t.
Jake couldn’t stop thinking about the classroom … about Corina … about Ghiss. Weary of tossing and turning, he rose with the sun, made a pot of coffee, and settled in his rocking chair on the front porch of the Tabor house. He sipped quietly, the events of the previous week a maelstrom in his head.
The sky was blue, dotted as usual that time of year with puffy white clouds … just like it had been the morning they left.
The screen door opened behind him, and once again a large canvas frame slid by, Sam Morse’s boots moving beneath.
“Mornin’, Sam,” Jake said quietly.
“Good morning, Jake,” Sam replied as he stepped down off the porch. He turned and nodded his head. “I heard you all come in last night. I am surprised to see you up so early.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” Jake smiled weakly. “You got a minute?”
“Certainly.” Sam settled the canvas on his boot to keep it out of the dirt and rested a low easel against his thigh. “What can I do for you?”
“I have a favor to ask.” Jake stopped rocking and leaned forward. “If I described something to you, something I’d seen once, do you think you could paint it? I’d pay for the work.”
Sam rubbed his chin, his beard shifting this way and that. “Perhaps. I’ve never done anything like that before. I believe it would depend heavily on your powers of memory and description.”
“It’s something I’ll never forget.”
Sam nodded. “As you wish. I make no guarantees, but we can begin this evening when I return. I am just about finished with my latest piece, and I do so love a new challenge.”
“Thank you, Sam,” Jake said.
The inventor-turned-artist picked up his things and disappeared around the corner, headed once again toward Deer Creek.
Jake started rocking again. Cole hadn’t said more than five words to him since they passed through the shadowgate over the Rockies. Guilt ate at him. Jake believed the massacre at Roswell had been his fault, and he was convinced Cole believed it, too. For two hours he sat like that, grinding over everything in his head, beating himself up.
The screen door opened behind him.
Jake leaned over, poured a second cup of coffee, and handed it up to Cole, barely looking at him.
Cole sat down and they rocked in silence for a couple of minutes. Jake prepared himself for whatever Cole had to say, and he’d take it like a man.
“I’m leaving, Jake,” Cole finally said.
Jake stopped rocking. The announcement hit him in the gut even though he’d suspected it. He nodded.
“I’m sorry, Cole,” Jake said quietly. “I know I got a lot of your people killed.”
“Yes, you did,” Cole said, his voice flat. “And you gotta live with that.”
“I surely do.”
The silence drew out between them, and it hit Jake like it was an ocean opening at his feet. He didn’t know what else to say. He suspected the loss of Cole was going to be just one more thing added to his nightmares … along with the children.
“There’s something you need to factor in, Jake.”
“What’s that?”
“It was your failure … trustin’ Ghiss like that. But it wasn’t your fault. The truth is Ghiss kept his word. We all made it … which means you got it right. Hell, if I’da had such a problem with it all, I coulda said something. Don’t forget that.”
“But—”
“No buts, amigo.” Cole’s voice softened slightly. “You and I know damn well that when bad men set their sights on killin’ they’re gonna do it so long as they’re breathing. Cromwell’s the one who we gotta be thinking about, not Ghiss. Ghiss is just a tool.”
In that moment, Jake wanted to tell Cole what he knew about Ghiss, but he just couldn’t bring himself to
do it. He was too ashamed. He simply replied, “I hadn’t looked at it that way.”
“Lemme ask you this,” Cole started, “in a gunfight, do you blame the gun or the man holding it?”
It got quiet again as Jake pondered Cole’s words. He finally nodded and sighed. There was just so much weighing Jake down. Too much.
“So, when are you leaving?” Jake asked. There was no need to answer Cole’s question. They both knew the answer.
“Couple of weeks,” Cole replied. “I gotta get me a new horse and tidy up a few things with some ladies in town.” Jake smiled weakly. Cole was more of a ladies’ man than Jake. “I also wanna help Skeeter with what she’s been workin’ on.”
“I’ll pay for the horse,” Jake said. “And you can have the three thousand in gold we got from the Lady.”
“That’s more’n half, Jake.”
“I know. It’ll make the trip down to Roswell easier, and maybe you can put it to good use in the fight against Cromwell.”
“I ain’t gonna argue with ya.”
“I’d come with you if I could.” Jake let his words trail off, guilt filling every syllable.
“I know.” Cole sighed. “I also know you’ve got Skeeter to think about … and your destiny with the Lady.”
“Don’t you start.”
“I ain’t startin’, Jake.” Cole’s voice was smooth, almost fatherly. “You spend enough time in a place like Roswell and the notion of destiny and tellings and magic all become normal. You may not see it, but I sure as hell do. You said it yourself. You never should have made it off that battlefield. You are livin’ on borrowed time … for a reason. You gotta live with that, too, Jake. The sooner you accept it, the easier it’ll be on you.”
“I suppose,” was all Jake could manage.
O O O
The house was quiet for the next two weeks. Jake and Sam spent most of their time in a room the painter had converted to a studio. Cole took Lumpy into Denver every couple of days to tidy up his affairs—literally—although he still hadn’t found the right horse. Skeeter disappeared into the workshop behind the house from before sunup to after sundown, and when Cole wasn’t in town, he was in there with her.
