The Hunter

by Theresa Meyers

  Unlike the rest of Marley’s home turned giant laboratory, this room was conspicuously bare. The jumble of materials had been shoved against bookcases and glass cabinets lining the walls. In the middle of the room was a large shape hidden beneath a pristine white sheet.

  “Here she is,” Marley said with great pride. He whipped off the sheet. There at an elegant polished cherrywood table sat a mechanical woman.

  She was quite astonishing, a miraculous work of art. Her fine, aristocratic features were sculpted out of flawlessly smooth silver skin, with wide expressive blue glass eyes and fat copper curls caught up in an elaborate cog and jewel-work clasp. Brass lace edged a very refined brass dress, and inset on her chest sat a large red heart-shaped jewel. Every inch of her had clearly been lovingly polished until it gleamed. Marley took a large brass turnkey in hand and reached behind the elaborately carved cherrywood chair she sat in.

  Colt heard the clicking of the key as Marley turned it. Inside Balmora the cogs and mechanics sprang to life, awakening the automaton, and the garnet jewel heart on her metal gown began to glow.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Balmora,” Marley said.

  Colt was astonished when she blinked, turned her head toward Marley with recognition, and smiled. “Good afternoon, sir.” Her voice was light and musical, but still had a mechanical tinny edge to it.

  Colt whistled long and low. “I’ve seen a lot of your inventions, Marley, but you have outdone yourself. Whatever they’re paying you, I’d ask for double.”

  Marley’s dark eyes danced with excitement. “Just wait until you see what she can do, old chap.” He turned back to address the decoding automaton. “Miss Balmora, we have a puzzle for you. It is in code. Can you identify the code and then translate it for us? American English, please,” Marley specified. He fed the paper into a slot in the tabletop in front of the automaton. Gears and clockwork hummed as the paper disappeared from view.

  Marley turned to Colt and grinned like a giddy schoolboy. “I’ve been giving her increasingly complex codes to prepare her for anything the Queen’s ministers might throw at her. She’s developed quite nicely.”

  For a second Colt thought he might have heard more than just pride in Marley’s voice. Perhaps even a touch of adoration.

  Balmora blinked, tilting her head to one side slightly as if she were listening to something. “It is in notation and riddle form. Language: Navaho. Processing translation for you, sir.”

  There was the clacking sound of typing immediately followed by a paper being fed up through a slot in the table into Balmora’s metallic hands. “Shall I read it, sir?”

  Marley nodded. “Yes. Proceed.”

  “Have tried to seal the Gates. It is no use. This piece alone will not do it. It will require the complete Book. At the height of the mountains, where legends are born and reborn from the ashes, is the eye through which we must pass to sew the tapestry of our Chosen destiny.”

  Marley took the page from her hands. “Thank you, Miss Balmora. That’ll be all.”

  “My pleasure, sir.” She blinked, straightened herself to sit up straight, then closed her eyes as if going to sleep. The clockwork inside her kept moving and clicking, and instead of a steady glow the red jewel heart throbbed off and on, like a slow, measured heartbeat.

  Marley turned toward Colt, ushering him out into the hallway. “I’ll wait until she runs down before I cover her up. Did what she decode make any sense, old chap?”

  “The first part is a message from Pa. The second might take some time to figure out. I’d have to see if Remy or Winn can make sense of it.”

  “Sense of what?” Lilly’s voice drifted up from where she stood among the teetering piles of books, papers, and machinery bits that lined the narrow hallway and cluttered nearly every inch of Marley’s home, worrying a bit of copper wire between her nimble fingers. Colt’s heart stuttered for a beat, knowing she was in danger.

  A red light began flashing on the leather utility belt Marley kept strapped about his waist beneath his lab coat. And he whirled about. “Demon! Get down!” he shouted as he shoved Colt sideways into the front parlor room behind a table stacked tall with glass beakers, tubes, and wires.

  “This’ll take care of her.”

  Colt didn’t know precisely how Marley had found the sting shooter in his mess of a lab, but he had it aimed straight at Lilly. A high-pitched whizzing sound issued from the gun. Zzzot.

  An arc of blue electricity went spinning across the room. A crowded bookcase directly beside Lilly erupted into flames. Marley’s sting shooter seemed to be more powerful than accurate, but Colt wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Marley! Marley, for the love of science, stop!”

  Lilly had the good sense to duck as Colt grabbed hold of the sting shooter and placed himself between her and Marley as he attempted to wrestle the device out of Marley’s hands, but Marley was having none of it.

  “My God, what are you doing, man! There’s a demon!” He squeezed the trigger, and the high-pitched whine of the shooter preceded another blue stream of electricity arcing out randomly, bouncing off a mirror in the hallway, through the open vault door, hitting Balmora in the process.

  “Balmora!” Marley jumped up from their place behind the cluttered desk, rushing to his automaton, the demon clearly forgotten in the heat of the moment. Colt and Lilly were right on his heels.

  Balmora’s silver skin and brass accents glistened for a second as the electricity danced in delicate sparks along her body. Marley’s cottony fuzz of hair stood out straight as he touched her and got zapped for his trouble. He shook his hand, sticking his finger in his mouth, and glared at Colt. “What are you waiting for? You’re the damn Hunter, go hunt down that demon!”

  Lilly peeped out from behind Colt’s broad back.

  “No.” Colt stepped back between the frazzled inventor and Lilly.

  “No? No! Are you bloody well out of your mind?”

  “I brought her.” His tone was low and lethal, giving a clear don’t-cross-me message Marley couldn’t ignore.

  Marley’s grasp went somewhat limp with surprise. “You brought a demon? Here! To my lab? What in the bloody hell is wrong with you? Whose side are you on? Get her out of here!”

  But there was little point to Marley’s rant. Colt turned to find Lilly had vanished.

  The quick shift from the cluttered laboratory of Marley’s home to the cold pristine black marble floor of Rathe’s throne room momentarily stunned Lilly. Her hairs had lifted with apprehension and her stomach swished uncomfortably at Marley’s, but now a cold, clammy sensation bathed her skin and her stomach shriveled to the size of a pearl shoe button. An arc of an electric spark singeing her was nothing compared to what Rathe could do if he was displeased, and there could be no doubt he’d materialized her to his throne room for a reason.

  The heat in the room made the very air shimmer, and a reddish glow lit the rugged stone walls from below as if the entire floor floated on a pool of red-hot magma. Rathe, bracketed by a Scoria soldier on one side and a chimera on the other, sat ensconced on a throne of obsidian that glittered malevolently.

  Despite his dapper British-tailored coat, suit, and intricately tied white cravat, Rathe wouldn’t have summoned her for afternoon tea and a bit of a chat. He wasn’t the type.

  “Lillith Marie Arliss, you are deliberately saving that Hunter’s life. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” His long, pale finger caressed the assortment of golden shrunken head fobs that shivered on the watch chain at his waist. The deep ruby stickpin in his snowy cravat glittered like a shining droplet of blood.

  Lilly suppressed a shudder. Her brain spun so fast she was certain Rathe could hear it whirring. Think, Lilly. Think. You are smarter than this demon. “Actually, I was hoping you’d notice,” she said, rising up slowly from the floor.

  “And why is that? Do you wish to be tormented?” A feral gleam glittered in the ice blue of his eyes, which quickly shifted to ominous yellow, the vertical slit widen
ing in anticipation. The chimera beside him let out a deep lion growl. Its snake tail undulated in the air toward her, flicking its forked tongue, tasting the air for her desperation.

  “No,” she said, snapping her fingers and changing into a tightly cinched dark green bustled gown with a very low neckline. She smoothed her fingers down the copper and gold brocade on her underbust corset, letting her hands come to rest on the flare of her hips. “It’s just rather difficult to get your attention. You’re awfully busy.”

  He arched one thin dark brow and steepled his fingers, their tips touching the reddish slash in his face that passed for a mouth. “I see. And what is it you require?”

  “He is still searching for the piece of the Book of Legend. It wasn’t where he thought it would be.”

  “And that is why you dispatched three of my hounds, my Scoria soldiers, a lake full of naiads, and Morticia?”

  “Morticia?”

  “My black widow spider.”

  She twisted one of her curls around her finger, looking at him through the lowered fan of her lashes. “You did say to do whatever it took to recover the piece of the Book and obtain his soul, didn’t you?” she said, slipping the tip of her index finger into her mouth and caressing her bottom lip. Playing the coquette with Rathe was a gamble. He’d either find it amusing or annoying. Lilly’s stomach shriveled further.

  Rathe tapped the tips of his fingers against the waxy pale skin of his face. His sharp aquiline nose and deeply carved cheeks made him seem aristocratic, but it was the cruel slash of a mouth and his icy eyes that showed his true nature. An archdemon lord, merciless and cold. The rancid odor of decaying flesh grew stronger as he shifted forward in his seat. The snake tail of the chimera hissed at her. “You have seven seconds to state your request. What is it you require, penny-girl?”

  Lilly bowed, and stayed bent, refusing to let her rage at the hated moniker betray her. Her father had called her that, both because he hated the coppery color of her hair when she was a child and because he’d said she wasn’t worth more than a penny to him unless she plied the con trade with him. She’d thought she’d escaped that dreaded name when she’d sent her father to Hell, but Rathe remembered. He always remembered. And it was a festering wound that never healed, and that he’d prod when she was most vulnerable, reminding her more clearly than ever why she wanted to escape him. “I need more time, my lord. I need to fully gain his trust.”

  “Impossible. The Gates of Nyx must open by the next dark moon.”

  Lilly shifted uncomfortably. “Of course, my lord.” She glanced upward, fixating on the yellow gleam of his eyes. “But what if there was a chance not to get just one piece of the Book of Legend, my lord, but the entire thing? Every. Single. Page. Every secret, every spell, every trick that Hunters have amassed over the centuries to control and eliminate Darkin, all at your disposal.”

  Rathe’s entire demeanor changed. He leaned forward with obvious interest. The yellow in his eyes intensified to gold, his deathly pale skin stretching taut over the sharp angles of his cheeks. The Scoria soldier fixated his glowing red eyes on Lilly and the chimera sat on his haunches, shaking its great mane. “Such a thing is possible?” Rathe asked, his voice grating and sibilant.

  “Colt Jackson believes he and his brothers must unite the Book to keep the Gates closed.”

  The slash in Rathe’s face widened into what could be called a grin, if it hadn’t been so terrifying and vile. It revealed pointed, vampire-like canines amid his other pointed teeth protruding from black gums. “The fools. This is indeed most interesting.” He touched the fobs again, rolling them between his fingers, and Lilly thought she heard them squeak in protest. Considering they were severed shrunken heads coated in molten gold, it wouldn’t surprise her if he’d somehow managed to keep them cognizant as some extra form of torture for his own sick amusement. “And you think you can convince them to give it to you?”

  Lilly deliberately modulated her voice, making it as seductive and smooth as possible as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Not I, my lord, but you could. Especially if you had an item to bargain with.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Colt Jackson.”

  “I see.”

  “Once he’s discovered his father’s portion of the Book, you could use him to get the other two brothers to give you their portions.” Rathe didn’t believe in the prophecy of the Chosen, had openly mocked it in his court. But deep down Lilly suspected that if they were to defeat the archdemon lord, all three brothers would need to be together, facing him as one united front.

  “If they discover them in time.”

  “Yes.”

  “I grow tired of this game between us, Lillith Marie Arliss. You need more than time; what do you require for this?”

  She hesitated. It was one hell of a gamble she was taking. “My freedom, my lord.” Lilly waited as he sat as still and silent as stone. Her pulse pounded in a heavy swoosh and whoosh in her ears, interrupted only by the grinding sound of the Scoria soldier’s rock body as he twisted his massive head to observe Rathe’s reaction and the growl and hiss of the chimera as he paced about Rathe’s chair.

  Chapter 13

  “Dammit. She’s gone.”

  Colt’s chest squeezed uncomfortably. He’d become so accustomed to Lilly’s presence that the lack of it left a noticeable void. When had that happened, he wondered. Colt prayed she was close by, somewhere. If Balmora’s decoding was right, he still needed her. Clearly that had to be the reason for his discomfort, he told himself.

  “Excellent,” Marley said with some satisfaction.

  “No. Not excellent,” Colt said with a little venom tainting his tone. “She’s the one I summoned to help me find Pa’s piece of the Book. Now I’m gonna have to find out how to fetch her back.” Colt darted into the room where Balmora was, grabbed up the dust cloth, and used it to start smothering the small fire the sting shooter had started in the bookcase in the parlor.

  Marley slapped his hand to his forehead, nearly knocking loose his brass spectro-whatzee-whosits goggles perched on the top of his head. “You didn’t actually summon one from those books I gave you, did you?”

  “Why else would I have asked for them, for some light reading?” Colt said, turning from the still-smoking bookcase and chucking the singed dust cloth to Marley.

  Marley caught the cloth and shrugged. “I thought it was perhaps a research endeavor, given your line of work.” He shook his head, muttering to himself about Hunters and ludicrous ideas. “So you say she’s working for you?”

  “For the moment. Yeah. No telling what’ll happen when I turn her loose after we find the piece of the Book.” Again that unfamiliar twinge started up in his chest at the thought of her leaving.

  “You aren’t seriously contemplating letting her go, are you? Working with the enemy is preposterous,” Marley continued to bluster. “She could turn on you, lead you astray. My God, man, how do you know she isn’t just a spy?” He threw a concerned glance back at Balmora, who was very still, her jewel heart void of light.

  “Simmer down, Marley. She’s already saved my skin more than once. And she wants help escaping Rathe in exchange for finding the Book. She wants to be human again.” If Lilly were human, would she still be interested in being around a Hunter like himself? No, she’d want to find her sister. He was certain of that. But what about after she found her sister? Would she seek him out again? The thought made the ache dissipate.

  Marley huffed, throwing an angry glare at the space where he’d last seen Lilly. “Demons belong in Hell.”

  “I agree, but that ain’t going to help us find the piece of the Book, now is it?” Colt gathered up the papers that had scattered and handed them to Marley.

  “I suppose not,” Marley grudgingly replied. He stuffed the dust cloth under one arm and took the proffered pages with the other hand.

  “But she can. You understand, Marley? If Balmora’s interpretation is correct, I’m going to nee
d her help.”

  Marley’s nod was reluctant. “I don’t envy you, old chap. The clue doesn’t even say where to start.”

  “Remy’s the one who’s crafty with words. If anyone can figure out Pa’s riddle, it’s him.”

  “I suppose you plan on taking her to see Remington, then,” Marley said with distaste as he took the papers Colt had handed him and crammed them into an already crowded drawer. He shook out the dust cloth, noting the dark brown singed ring and a few new holes in the cloth, and laid it over a desk sporting an assortment of twisted bits of glassware connected to copper pots and long silver cylinders.

  Colt didn’t have time to worry about Marley or his misconceptions about Lilly. He needed to find her again and make tracks for Arizona Territory. “Thanks for deciphering the note, Marley.”

  “Wait. Before you go, you ought to stock up on some more ammunition and take this with you.” Marley held out a metallic-looking gauntlet with a keyhole in the back of the hand and leather straps and buckles along the forearm to attach it.

  “What’s that?”

  “Vertical Mechanical Lift.”

  Colt turned it over in his hand, looking at the intricate gears that ran along the slim channel set into the palm of the device. “This the thing you were using when you suspended yourself off the roof to fix the telescope?”

  Marley nodded, a touch of pride lifting his lips. “The very same.”

  Colt shrugged, then tucked the device in his pack. “Well, you’re still in one piece, so I suppose it’s safe enough.”

  Marley handed the sting shooter to Colt. “I modified it again.”

  Colt took the sting shooter and tipped his head toward the automaton. “Hope it didn’t hurt Balmora.”

  Marley’s eyes watered a bit. “You know where the bullets are stored, don’t you? Get what you need. If you’ll excuse me, I must see to her.” He turned away from Colt and toward his beloved invention.

  Colt tugged his brown Stetson down tight. He headed for the kitchen and pulled several handfuls of the special silver bullets Marley had manufactured for his pa’s specialized Darkin-killing Colt revolver from one of the kitchen drawers. One by one he refilled the spaces on his ammunition belt, then headed for the door.