Chronicles of Steele: Raven 2: Episode 2

by Pauline Creeden

  The movements of the older men astonished Jack. They moved in the same impossible speed that Raven had possessed. Jack didn’t know how long the melee lasted, but somehow he and his men ended up in the middle of the fray. His men were as bewildered as he when nothing they did could slow down the fighting of the blurred figures. Instead, the brown coats were kicked and punched whenever they neared them. Like a tornado, the clashing of swords and wooden cane moved about the station, entangling with everything in its path. An elbow jabbed Jack in the stomach, and the cane made a hard but glancing blow against his shoulder.

  Around them, the crowd dispersed to the safety of the train or the inner station. Jack spied Colton and Bradley coming from the cargo car, holding the flesh horses back from the conflict. A whistle pierced the chatter and three constables trotted toward the station.

  “Stop. Desist this nonsense immediately!” A bushy browed constable with straight black hair held up a white-gloved hand.

  The brawl halted, each of the reapers huffing. Sweat dripped from their foreheads and their faces burned red. Two of his brown-coated guardsmen lay on the concrete platform of the station, but struggled to stand once the furious tornado was brought to a standstill. Jack rotated his shoulder, trying to alleviate the pain.

  “What is the meaning of this? You guardsmen are out of your jurisdiction. This is my territory.” The loud constable brushed off the sleeve of his green jacket.

  Jack spoke. “We are here by order of the duke himself. His son has been kidnapped, and we have reason to believe him aboard the Airship Grommet. We request permission to search the Airship.”

  The constable’s eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead. “That is no reason for this commotion you have caused here. You are in the southern territories Captain…” He waited for an answer.

  “Grant. Captain Jack Grant.”

  “Constable Rockley at your service.” He gave a clipped bow. “Regardless, Captain Grant, we do not take kindly to strangers trampling our southern hospitality.” He glanced in the direction of the two panting older men. “And am I to assume these men are criminals?”

  Jack shook his head. “One is our tracker, the other…”

  “…is just leaving,” Monroe said as he straightened. He flashed his ticket toward the constable. “I’m afraid that the guardsmen’s tracker is an old friend of mine, and there has been bad blood between us for years. I’m sure we will cause you no more trouble.” He swept back into a deep bow and turned on his heel.

  The Deputy started forward but shook his head and threw his hands up in a gesture that said “forget about it.” He turned back to Jack. “I don’t want to see your guardsmen or that tracker tearing up my town to find some boy who may or may not be here.”

  Jack seethed at the “some boy” comment. To disrespect the baron in such a manner within New Haven could get you a night in the prison. “It is not our intention to cause you any disruption.”

  The train whistle blew, signaling the train’s departure. Colton and Bradley led the horses toward the street to keep them from spooking when the train moved. In slow succession, the train began to pass by. One of the porters had trouble pushing the door to the cargo hold closed. A large kennel sat near the opening, and the animal within let out a bark as it passed.

  Jack froze. Nikki. “Hey!” He jogged forward with the train. “We need to stop this train.”

  Deputy Rockley put his hands on his hips. “Sorry, Captain Grant. You are out of your jurisdiction. There is no reason I can see to stop it.”

  Jack came to a standstill and glared at the ignorant constable. Obviously, he was a man chosen by a popularity contest instead of merit. “We have reason to believe the duke’s son is on that train.”

  Deputy Rockley rolled his eyes. “First he’s on the zeppelin, now he’s on the train. Which is it, Captain?”

  Jack locked his jaw and glared at the man’s iron ignorance. He watched the train pick up speed and swing around the corner. From the caboose, Monroe leaned against the railing and waved.

  Raven and Darius bypassed the travelling car and made for the dining car to get another spot of tea. The reaper’s stomach growled. She promised herself that she’d keep it light but not fast entirely on this trip. There shouldn’t have been any need. And now with leaving Captain Grant back in Westmoreland, there should be less, right?

  They sat at a table and the waiter stepped over. Raven removed her hat and scarf, nodding to Darius to do the same. “We’ll take some cheese finger-sandwiches and tea. Maybe a few biscuits as well?”

  Darius nodded. Raven smiled. A growing boy always had room for biscuits. The afternoon sun peeked in between the branches of pine trees as they passed. The river ran beside them to the east, reflecting the few orange rays of light. Inside the car, the tables and seats were fixed to the floor in booth- type formation, across from each other, with an aisle between.

  Before the waiter returned with their tea, the ragged reaper sat down at a table across from them. He didn’t wear black. His rags were earth tones, or at least covered with dirt. No blood stained them. Raven’s shoulders relaxed before she realized. Wait. If this man made it aboard the train before departure, did anyone else? Her eyes darted toward the back of the train, the direction from which the man had come.

  He leaned across and smiled. “Don’t worry your pretty little head—no one but me made it on the train.” He put his feet up on the seat across from him. “I waved at them all from the caboose.”

  Darius laughed, leaned his head in and whispered, “So you didn’t kill anyone?”

  The man put his hands behind his head and slumped into his seat, closing his eyes. “No need to kill anyone unnecessarily. More lives to redeem is not what I need.”

  “You sound just like Raven.”

  Raven glared at Darius and shook her head once. She didn’t want the boy to talk to the rag man at all, much less talk about her.

  The man opened one eye. “You don’t mind if I ask for that chronometer, do you?”

  She shook her head. She’d forgotten about it. Her red carpet bag sat on the seat beside her in the booth. She pulled it into her lap and dug through. The black pocket watch lay next to her arrows and a sheathed knife. Its metal felt cool to the touch. She held it out across the aisle to the man, but pulled back as he reached for it. “What is the significance of this thing, and why did you ask me to hold it?”

  His grey eyes grew misty, and his lips grew small under the stubble of his salt and pepper beard. “My best friend gave it to me after I had a part in the death of his wife, and there is no person I would trust more with it.”

  Raven swallowed the sorrow lodged in her throat. “You knew my father?”

  “And I knew you once upon a time, but it was so long ago you’d not likely remember me. I was different back then. Not enough like your father. He was always a true believer; I just thought I was one.” He gestured toward the watch and said, “Read the inscription on the inside cover.”

  Raven pressed the button at the top of the watch and the cover popped open. Inside was the etching of a bird—a raven and below it were the words, “Take care of her.”

  Tears sprung in her eyes. She felt warmth embrace her like her father reaching out to her for the first time in years. The tears streamed down her cheeks, but she wiped them away quickly.

  The rag man continued. “I figured if I didn’t make it back from my meeting with Jasper, you’d open the watch and know that at least I had tried to redeem your mother.”

  Raven blinked hard and dropped the watch into his outstretched palm. “You killed my mother?”

  “Not directly, no, but I was there. As far as I’m concerned, I had a hand in it. There are times when no matter how hard you want to redeem yourself for your wrongs, you just can’t do enough. You can’t pay enough.” His watery eyes met hers. “Do you understand what I mean?”

  “I think so.” Raven looked at the weapons in the bag she held. If a man could work for years to red
eem himself for his crimes and still feel guilty, what kind of person had she become? She could shrug off each kill as not her problem once she’d paid the debt.

  “Raven, we each learn in our own time that killing a person leaves a stain on our souls that we can’t wash out by good deeds alone. Jasper learned long ago that he can’t replace what was once lost and has quit trying to do it all together. He kills without redemption.”

  After a hard swallow, Raven narrowed her eyes at the man and shook her head. She didn’t need this. As shameful as it was for a reaper like Jasper Hollow to kill without redemption, she wouldn’t sell herself short on the ability to redeem herself. Determined not to talk to the man further, she looked straight ahead without a word until the waiter came with her tea.

  The old man across the aisle seemed to take the hint and remained silent. Raven stared at her sandwiches, her appetite gone. She stuffed one in her mouth anyway, out of spite. She refused to let the rag reaper ruin her appetite. The cheese spread on the bread tasted like foot to her, but she washed it down with a gulp of tea.

  She leaned back, unwilling to take another bite. The reaper had closed his eyes and continued in the same reclined position. She glared at him. “So what are you doing here?”

  He opened one lid, eyed her, and closed it again. “I’m your assigned guardian angel, Raven. I’ve been following you discreetly for years. It did my heart a lot of good when it seemed you were going to stop reaping and start raising a family. I thought maybe we’d be done and I’d be redeemed.”

  Raven clenched her jaw. What load of manure was this? This guy had been following her? How did he know so much about her? She started caring less that he knew her dad and more about what he was doing now. “Who are you?”

  He opened his eyes again and dropped his feet to the ground. He turned into the aisle and reached out a hand. “Monroe Striker and I thought you’d never ask.”

  Actions must be guided by reason, not emotion.

  The moment decisions become based on feelings, one will err.

  JACK STEADIED HIS horse and shoved a foot in the stirrup. His guard mounted and the group moved farther west and south in the outer territory. He nodded to his guard and shouted down the line. “We’ve lost time, but at least we know exactly where this train is going. To Moorshead!”

  With a curse, Jasper Hollow mounted his mechanical horse. He rolled his shoulder and neck. “We’d get there faster if you lot didn’t handicap yourselves with flesh instead of metal.”

  After a darting glance sideways at the worthless reaper, Jack clenched his jaw and turned his horse toward the road along the railroad track. Most of the roads in the outer territory were dirt and clay rather than stones and cobbles. He set the pace at a solid trot to stretch the horses’ legs after their train ride. After a short while, he pushed them forward into a hard canter. He’d press the horses as hard as they would allow. The train ride from Westmoreland to Moorshead lasted no longer than two hours. The ride on their horses could take as long as four. He wouldn’t give them more than a two-hour head start. The end of this hunt was in sight.

  But what then? Could he really bring himself to follow the duke’s orders? To return his son to the court, where Jack knew what it would mean for the boy? He’d be taking Darius to his death.

  The sound of the hooves pounding against the hard clay gave him no comfort. It used to. He focused on his breathing, hoping to drown out the thoughts crowding his head. When his reins had become covered with foam from the horse’s sweat, and the horse’s sides were heaving beneath him, he slowed the horse to a walk for a short break.

  Steam poured from the nostrils of Jasper’s brass machine. He started past Jack and yelled back, “You are too slow for me—I’m going on ahead.” The automated horse throttled into a higher gear, and it whined as it continued over the next hill.

  Part of Jack was jealous. He preferred a steam-powered machine over a flesh horse himself. But with the incident caused by the unpredictable spells the young baron had, he couldn’t risk it again.

  Rupert pulled up his mount next to Jack. The fiery look in Rupert’s eyes showed his displeasure with the reaper, and he shook his head in the direction of the Jasper’s retreat. “Good riddance.”

  Jack agreed. He turned about in his saddle to the rest of his guard. Harry, Smith, and Bradley rode astride each other, their horses’ heads carried low. Behind them, Colton took up the rear. He stayed alert, darting his eyes to both sides of the road rather than conversing like the other three. The younger guard members tended to treat every portion of the mission as if it were a road trip. Jack grew tired of it, but at least knew he could rely on Colton and Rupert. He turned back into his saddle and felt his gelding’s neck. “What do you think, Rupert? My horse is no longer heaving. Should we risk a trot?”

  Rupert nodded, nudging his horse in response. Jack clucked his horse on without looking behind. The others would follow their lead. He caught up to his bouncing friend. Rupert always gave away his feelings through his expression. It helped Jack to understand him, trust him. The dark skinned second-in-command never spoke an unnecessary word, never repeated an intimate counsel.

  The sun hovered just above the horizon as they crested the next hill. It melted slowly from the sky, leaving streaks of itself in its wake. The wispy clouds didn’t block a single ray. Jack shielded his squinted eyes as they rode directly into the sun.

  Because of an issue with some cattle on the tracks, the train had been detained. They arrived at the station fifteen minutes late. Raven wondered how hard the Duke’s Guard would have to ride to catch them. Did they have flesh horses or mechanical? If mechanical, she would need to quicken her pace.

  Only six passengers exited the train, including Darius and herself. She herded the boy off the train, knowing the old man followed right behind them. They headed directly for the cargo hold. The boy needed his dog, and she needed her weapons. The limited number she’d been able to carry on the train would not be enough for the trek to and through Preston Woods.

  Gypsies and highwaymen would scour the roads for unlucky travelers. She only hoped that with the little traveled road, the marauders would move on for better resources. After securing her bag from a porter, she gave him a quick smile and a copper. She nodded to Darius, who had Nikki on a leash. “I’ll only be a moment in the ladies’ room. Stay right here on the platform.” Her eyes met the ragged reaper’s. “Don’t go anywhere with that man.”

  “Monroe?” Darius asked innocently. He’d already taken an obvious liking to the older man who had played a few magic tricks for the boy on the train.

  “Keep an eye on him, but don’t go anywhere.” She leveled her eyes at Darius. “Understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered, his spine straighter, and his grin gone.

  She nodded once and dashed for the ladies’ room, nearly bumping into an older woman with a cane. After scanning the crowd for a constable or any other obvious difficulties, she found none. Relieved, she rushed to the facilities. The moment she entered the public restroom, she locked the door behind her. She’d worn her moleskin breeches beneath the travelling skirts, and her leather corset. After yanking off the tan dress, she slipped into her black button up shirt with ruffles on the sleeves. Her larger travel bag also held both the red corded sword and her crossbow. With great relief, she snapped both to the magnets on her back.

  When she finally stepped out of the ladies’ room, she felt like a reaper again. She pulled her long black curls into a quick bun and placed in it two long sticks with green balls of glass at each end. She hadn’t used the chemicals in the sticks for over a year. But the hunt after her now felt more threatening because of Jasper Hollow. She needed to be prepared for any eventuality. She placed her night vision goggles on her head and pulled the strap tight around the bun in her hair.

  The sun sank over the horizon, leaving the sky a shade of midnight blue to the west, and stars were clearly visible to the east. Moorshead had no gas-lamp streetlig
hts; the farming town had no need of them. The station the train stopped at was little more than an outpost. The general store, the barber, the bank, and the blacksmith were the only four buildings surrounding the station.

  The other three passengers had family to greet them and take them in. By the time Raven stepped up to Darius and the ragged reaper, the train had gone and they were the only ones remaining on the platform.

  Monroe sat cross-legged next to Nikki on the platform, one arm around the dog. “I believe the general store has a few rooms above it for rent.”

  “We have no time for rooms. We must hurry.” She grabbed the boy by the arm a little harder than she’d meant to.

  He cried out. His eyes glistened with tears, even in the limited light.

  Raven released him, feeling her temper mounting. Frustration ate at her insides and made heat flush to her face. She was letting it overtake her. A reaper must never do that. Clenching her hands into fists at her sides, she took deep breaths counting to three in each inhale and in each exhale. She relaxed her fists and stretched her fingers out.

  Crickets chirped a chorus all around her, their orchestra overwhelming. In the distance, a tree branch cracked as a heavy owl shifted its weight from talon to talon. Though no longer visible, the train’s brakes squealed as it rounded a turn in the distance. The calm of knowing her surroundings washed over her.

  When she opened her eyes again, she felt in control. “I’m sorry, Darius. I didn’t mean to grasp you so hard.”

  He swiped his eyes and lifted his chin. “It’s all right.” His smile was genuine. She wished she could have the sense of forgiveness found in the eyes of that child.

  “I really am very sorry, but we also really need to go.”

  Darius nodded and pulled on Nikki’s leash. The dog jumped to its feet. The ragged reaper grabbed the Great Dane by the collar and allowed her momentum to help him up. The moment the dog pulled him to a standing position, he released her. Nikki had shown no hindrance of the man’s burden. He dusted off his breeches and asked, “So where to, boss?”