by J. Stone
He soon passed the silver mine, and that’s when he spotted something unusual. Lockhart saw a grouping of footprints. Ghouls. A lot of them. But not just them. He saw the grooves where wheels had scraped along the ground. Heavy, judging by the depth of the tracks. For whatever reason, the ghouls had followed the same path.
Knowing he would need a weapon, Lockhart knelt down to retrieve his knife. To his surprise, he found it missing. Wynonna, he hoped, but this made him defenseless against the creatures. Regardless, him being without a weapon wasn’t enough to change the situation. He still had to press on.
Looking forward to where the tracks lead, he hoped to find the end of the trail. Unfortunately, the tracks turned down a street, cutting off his line of sight. Wary of what he might find at the end, however, he stood up and kept going but moved quietly so as not to draw any unwanted attention.
Approaching the turn in the street, Lockhart moved to the building at the corner and peered around it. Only three buildings down, he found what he was looking for. The smithy was not hard to pick out. A large group of ghouls had assembled outside it, and even the revenant was among their numbers. They weren’t moving though. Just standing there, staring into the smithy. Seemingly mesmerized.
Lockhart squinted to try to get a better look at what they all focused on. Glittering on the ground, on the ramp, and on the floorboards leading into the smithy, the vespari saw something. Silver? And it looked like someone had left a series of them there, like a trail of breadcrumbs to follow.
Had Wynonna left a trail for them? Did she have a trap inside that smithy? If so, it didn’t look like they’d fallen for it. And that still left the question of where Wynonna was. He had to find her before he could do anything to help her.
***
Wynonna searched the whole building. There was one entrance in the front and one exit in the back. Both had a group of ghouls standing by it. There was also a second floor where the blacksmith seemed to live, which she currently used to survey the situation. Sitting by a window, she looked out to the front group.
The ghouls and the Gentleman there all just looked on, refusing to enter the smithy. She hadn’t fooled them, it seemed, but they couldn’t resist either. They knew there was silver inside the building. She’d left the cart in full view from the front door. It wasn’t enough though. If she couldn’t get them inside, then none of it mattered. Maybe she just needed to provoke them. That she could do. Provocation came natural to her.
Reaching into her back pocket, Wynonna grabbed one of the two sticks of dynamite she’d brought. She then stuck her hand into her front pocket to grab the lighter she’d bought. Only when her fingers were met with nothing but the fabric of her jeans did she remember losing it in the blaze at the silver mine office. So much for that purchase. All she had left was the bottle of replacement fluid, and it wasn’t going to do her any good. Nor did she have any matches, having used the last to take care of the ettin. She briefly considered going downstairs and using the flames burning there to light the dynamite. That was too reckless even for her, however, given she’d littered the downstairs with the black powder. One stray spark and the whole place would go up.
Instead, she looked around the upstairs. Beside the bed, on a nightstand, Wynonna spotted a lamp similar to the one she’d cracked over the Gentleman’s head. Thinking of that brought a smile to her face, but an unlit lantern wouldn’t help her. The nightstand had a drawer though. Maybe the blacksmith had kept matches nearby.
Moving to the bedside, Wynonna pulled the drawer open and started rooting around in its contents. He’d clearly been a disorganized hoarder, but among everything else in there, she did find a box of matches. Pulling them out, she felt they had some heft to them. Upon opening the box, she saw the blacksmith had hardly even used them yet. Wynonna picked up one of the matches, closed the box, and moved back to the open window to peer out at the creatures below.
None of the undead monsters seemed to have moved. The Gentleman still stood in the middle of his group of ghouls, staring at the smithy. They hadn’t yet taken notice of her up above, but that seemed likely to change, given what she was about to do. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself. She knew the risks, but she didn’t care. The revenant had to die, and if it meant she went with him, then it would be a good enough death for her. Wynonna struck the match against the box, held it to the wick on the stick of dynamite, leaned her whole body out the window, and threw the dynamite right to the Gentleman’s feet.
***
Leaning against the side of the building, Lockhart stared at this group of ghouls. He’d never seen a revenant or its minions exhibit this kind of behavior before, and he didn’t even know what enamored them so. As he watched, however, he saw something red fall from the second story of the smithy. He looked up to find Wynonna leaning out of the window. She immediately ducked back inside the building and dropped out of sight.
Looking back down at the ground where the red object had fallen, he found it to be on fire. Dynamite. Mimicking Wynonna’s behavior, Lockhart too ducked back behind the building he’d been using for concealment.
The dynamite exploded just as he did so. Grimacing through the noise and chaos she’d created, he was at least appreciative that he’d found Wynonna. Unfortunately, she was still inside the smithy. And, she had dynamite. A dangerous combination if he’d ever seen one.
Lockhart looked back around the corner of the building. The explosion had scattered body parts everywhere, and a trail of smoke floated up in the sky. She’d killed the Gentleman, that was clear, but he’d already reconstituted himself into a new body. He pointed to the building, and his remaining ghouls charged in. The Gentleman, however remained where he was, refusing to enter the smithy. The vespari could even see that some of the revenant’s ghouls were coming in through the back way. If she didn’t get out of there, Wynonna was about to be ripped to pieces.
***
Wynonna’s ears rang from the explosion. Some of the chunks of dead flesh had even managed to fly through the window and were now dangling throughout the room. She wiped a piece that she expected had been an ear off her shoulder with a grimace and sat up to look out the window again. The explosion had taken plenty of the ghouls out, and she was pretty sure the revenant was in a new body. And, above all else, she’d certainly managed to provoke the Gentleman, though not in the way she’d hoped. Rather than the revenant charging inside to kill her, it was his ghouls. Only he remained outside, pointing into the smithy.
Realizing the danger she was in, Wynonna shoved the rest of the matches in her pocket and turned back to the door. She slammed it shut before any of the ghouls could make their way to the second floor. She then pushed a dresser to further block their way. She hoped it would hold them, but that was her only way out other than the window. Given her choices, it seemed she would have to go out through there. Only the revenant was out there, and she hoped that he would be an easier obstacle to overcome.
When she approached the window, however, she found that he knew exactly where she was and exactly what she intended. He fired three shots, each only narrowly missing her. The oozing, black bullets lodged into the wood window frame, as she ducked down to avoid being hit.
Behind her, the ghouls banged against the door, clamoring to get in with her. She twisted her head around to see the dresser skid a bit. She couldn’t stay there, and she couldn’t go out the window. Wynonna raised her head up a bit to peek out again, only for the revenant to nearly shoot her the same as before. As long as the Gentleman was out there, she wasn’t going anywhere.
***
Wynonna was under fire from one side and trapped by a horde of ghouls on the other. Lockhart knew he had to do something, but what? He didn’t have his gun. He didn’t even have his knife. Leaning back behind the building, he stuck his hands into his pockets. A silver coin, one silver round, some leftover mad lotus, and the silver slivers he’d received from Knox in Abilene for taking the vishler contract.
Loc
khart paused, staring at the slivers in his palm. Wynonna had already figured it out. She knew what the revenant was after. He was only getting it now. Silver. That’s what drove him. The Gentleman must’ve been a greedy man in life. That’s what Wynonna had used to lure him to the smithy. A mine cart. Chunks of silver leading into the smithy. He felt a sense of pride at how clever she’d been to realize it all, but there was no time to linger on that.
If silver had been enough to lure the revenant and his ghouls there, maybe he could use it as a distraction to get Wynonna out of there. Relying on little more than guesses and a hope, Lockhart moved out from behind the building and walked toward the Gentleman from behind. He stayed silent as he approached the revenant, but the revenant’s focus was squarely on the window where Wynonna was hiding.
Gripping the slivers in his palm, Lockhart reared back and threw the silver just beyond the revenant. As the glittering metal passed him, the Gentleman turned his head to follow their path. Lockhart took this opportunity to run toward the revenant and tackle him to the ground. Both of the creature’s revolvers fell to the ground in the collision, and the two men rolled toward the smithy.
“Wynonna!” he yelled. “G-go!”
***
Hearing Lockhart shout her name, Wynonna rose up and looked out the window. He and the revenant were tussling on the ground right outside the smithy. She wasn’t going to get a better opportunity than this. She stuck one of her legs out first, balancing it on the narrow ledge just outside. When it was steady, she bent over and squeezed her upper body out as well with the opposite leg following.
As she did, the ghouls behind her pushed the dresser from the door and rushed in. Wynonna grimaced, worrying about the landing she would make, but jumped all the same. She lingered a second too long though.
One of the ghouls managed to reach out and grab Wynonna’s arm as she fell. Her own weight plus the ghoul’s inherent weakness wouldn’t have been a problem ordinarily, as she could have easily dragged it with her as she fell. As the ghoul was pulled through the window, however, the other undead creatures all vying to get her as well clogged the opening. Along with them, she was stuck, dangling there with a series of flailing undead things above her.
Sick of dealing with these creatures, Wynonna grabbed Lockhart’s knife from her belt and slashed at the ghoul’s wrist. Black blood dripped down on her, but she didn’t care. The knife stuck into the bone, not severing it like she’d hoped. She yanked it out and repeated the action. By the fourth strike, she was nearly through, and her own weight was enough to cause the bone to snap the rest of the way and the flesh to tear loose.
Wynonna fell with a thud, the ghoul’s hand still clutched around her wrist. Prying it off, she tossed it aside and then focused on Lockhart and the revenant. The Gentleman had managed to get on top of him and was choking Lockhart similarly to how he’d done to her back in the silver mine’s office. Having a clear shot at him now though, she wanted to take it.
Running straight at the pair, Wynonna kicked the Gentleman square in the face, knocking him off Lockhart. As her master sputtered and caught his breath, Wynonna stepped over and past him, pulling the revolver from her belt. The revenant stopped his roll on his back, and she stood over him, putting her boot to his neck.
“You killed everyone I love!” she screamed. “You took everything from me! My family! My home! But you didn’t take my life. That was your biggest mistake.”
Wynonna pointed the gun down at his head and pulled the trigger. The black blood oozed from the wound, and she felt a sense of comfort in watching it. His body, however, soon began to change back into the ghoul he’d occupied.
Panting, Lockhart reiterated this, saying, “He’s j-j-just… going to re… constitute himself as… a ghoul.”
Wynonna looked at her vespari master and smiled. “I know.”
Handing him his revolver and knife, Wynonna then pulled the final stick of dynamite and the matches from her pockets. With them in hand, she approached the front door of the smithy. Looking up at the window she’d jumped from and where the ghouls were still clogged, she spotted the Gentleman jammed in with the rest of them and unable to move. She flicked the match against the box, lit the dynamite, and tossed it into the smithy.
As soon as the flame on the wick hit the black powder that covered the floor, the whole building erupted. Lockhart jumped at her and knocked her to the ground, using his body to shield her from the blast. She heard chunks of debris pelt him and heard his groans in response. She hadn’t even considered how big the explosion would be or the danger it would put them both in. She wondered if this was how he died. She wondered if Iris’s prophecy had been correct.
When the smoke cleared and Wynonna was able to stand up, however, she found that Lockhart was okay. He was still breathing, albeit heavy, but breathing all the same. She checked his back for damage. The debris had pierced his duster in a couple spots but nothing too big was sticking out of him. His regeneration would handle it.
“Did you g-get him?” Lockhart asked.
Wynonna looked up at the blaze. She couldn’t make anything out within. “I can’t tell.”
“P-pinch yourself.”
She looked down at him. “What?”
“The p-p-pain suppression.”
“Oh, right.”
Wynonna held one arm out in front of her and squeezed a chunk of flesh between her thumb and index finger. She hardly felt anything. She squeezed harder. Nothing but pressure, while her skin turned red and irritated. Wynonna smiled and nodded at Lockhart.
“He’s dead,” she told him. “He’s really dead.”
***
Once all the violence had ended, and after allowing Wynonna a moment to bask in her revenge, Lockhart turned to her. “You lied t-to me.”
His apprentice continued to stare at the flames of the building that housed the revenant’s burning body.
Lockhart grabbed her shoulder and forced her to look at him. “You lied to m-me,” he repeated.
Wynonna paused, all happiness fading from her face, and then she glared at him. “It wasn’t hard. You’re too trusting, Cory.”
He took a couple deep breaths. “Why? Why d-d-did you d-d-do this?”
Her eyes cut away from his and she swallowed. “The fortune teller back in Courtland. She showed me where we could find the coven and the Gentleman.”
“Then why--?”
Wynonna looked back into his eyes, a fire burning in her own. “She said I had to make a choice. She said I could either kill the Gentleman or save your life. I couldn’t do both.”
“And you ch-ch-chose to kill me?”
“I chose to avenge my family. I did what I had to.”
Lockhart remained silent for a minute and looked away from Wynonna as she looked back to the fire. He considered the fortune teller’s vision and the implications of his apprentice’s choice. They’d killed the Gentleman. Did that mean that the coven was beyond his reach? Did that mean that he would die from the Caustic Brand they’d bestowed on him? He didn’t know, but he wasn’t ready to give up.
Lockhart turned back to Wynonna. “I’m sorry.”
“You?” she asked, looking to him. “What do you have to be sorry about? I’m the one who…” She stopped, thinking how to end that sentence. “I made the decision. Not you, and I’m not apologizing for anything.”
“That’s what I’m s-s-s-sorry for. To put you in that situation.”
“You didn’t. I did it myself. I’m my own woman. I went to the fortune teller behind your back. Me. You had nothing to do with it.”
“It was my f-f-f-fault. You had to ch-ch-choose, and I’m sorry.”
“You don’t--”
“And I f-f-forgive you.”
She scowled at him. “I didn’t apologize. I didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m not sorry for making my decision. I couldn’t trust that you’d still be alive after the beldams. I needed your help to kill this bastard.” She pointed idly toward the fires.
Wynonna shook her head. “Whatever you say.”
“I vowed to p-p-put the deaths of m-monsters before my own life. That’s what you d-did. You chose to do the right th-thing.”
She folded her arms at her chest. “Then, I have nothing to be forgiven for.”
“If the fortune t-teller was correct, I want you to r-remember it when I’m gone. I forgive you.”
Wynonna refused to meet his gaze and shrugged.
“But, I’m n-not letting the b-beldams get away.”
“The fortune teller’s vision was pretty clear.” She looked down at the ground. “I don’t know how you’ll die, but you won’t be able to kill them before the mark takes you.”
“You expect me to g-g-give up?”
“No… I just…”
“I’m going to hunt th-th-them down, prophecy o-o-or o-o-otherwise.”
Wynonna shrugged, still not meeting his eyes.
“Y-y-you got what y-y-you wanted. The Gentleman is d-dead. Are you going to help m-m-me kill the beldams? Are you g-going to be the vespari you swore to be?”
After a pause, she looked up at him. “They’re in the Howling Gorge. You helped me kill the Gentleman. So, yes. I’ll help you kill the beldams.”
“And if I d-d-die?”
Wynonna nodded. “I’ll finish what you started. I’m a vespari now.”
“Then, let’s g-g-go.”
Lockhart turned and started to leave, but Wynonna called after him. “Wait!”
“What?” he asked, stopping.
Wynonna held her hand to her gut. “I don’t have your regeneration. I may not be able to feel this anymore, but it needs some stitching before we go trudging through the desert again. Plus, I can see shrapnel from the explosion sticking out of your back.”
