An echoing howl broke Temperance from her reverie. How nice of the beast to announce itself like that, it was almost downright noble. She checked her guns one last time.
The beast stepped through the haze like it was parting a veil, tendrils held over its head to ward off the rain. Temperance took a moment to study the beast, looking for signs of weakness, but any details were lost amid the storm.
That was fine. She was reasonably certain she knew how to kill it by now, and that’s all that mattered.
The wolf didn’t slow as it approached the line of her circle. She waited, curious to see what it would do. Then it rammed into the shield with an audible thud, the circle momentarily solidifying. Rainwater beaded across its surface until the shield faded, falling in large pools to the ground.
Temperance sprang from her hiding place. Before the beast recovered itself, she took aim with a cry of “Hueno!”
* * *
Temperance came awake with a start, then nearly screamed as pain flooded through her body. Or perhaps she actually was screaming. It was difficult tell. Both her ears were ringing like church bells, drowning out everything else.
The pain faded. She sat up and patted herself all over. Nothing broken that she could tell. So what had happened? Where was the daemon beast?
A flash of lightning revealed broken stalks of corn around her. One of the Felts’ fields, apparently, but how had she gotten here? The last thing she remembered was firing at the daemon—
Another lightning bolt flashed near the mountains. Temperance felt a chill run through her that had nothing to do with the cold weather. A lesson came back to her, about how certain types of energy reacted to water, drawing towards it like iron to a lodestone. Martin had warned her to always be mindful of wet clothes, or standing in puddles, but it had slipped her mind completely until now.
She had fired a bolt at the daemon. During a downpour. She was lucky it hadn’t fried her arms off, or melted her revolvers into slag.
Her guns. Temperance’s heart skipped a beat when she realized they weren’t close at hand.
She crawled about and found the weapons a few feet away. They were hot to the touch, but otherwise appeared in one piece. She removed the remaining elemental strikers, returned them to her bandolier, and contemplated what to do next. Fire was out, for several reasons. She could try cold. The hexbullets were more dangerous to fire, but she didn’t have many good options left here.
Up ahead, the Felts house came into view. The beast paced a circle around it, occasionally slapping a tendril against the shield. At least that appeared to be working. Temperance needed every advantage she could get.
An idea formed in her head, one that had been brewing since earlier that afternoon. The earth mover bullets hadn’t seemed like they were good for much, but perhaps if she could lure the beast near . . . .
“Hey! Over here!” she called, loading the revolver without ever taking her eyes off the daemon. It glanced in her direction, then resumed slapping at the barrier.
“Are you deaf, you mangy cur, I said over here—”
The beast struck at the barrier again, except this time its tendril passed through the air, slapping the ground beyond. Temperance felt her guts go cold as the beast took first one step across the circle, and another.
“How in damnation . . . .” A flash of lightning illuminated the farmstead, and as it faded, she caught a glimpse of someone running through the far field, fast as their legs could carry them.
Patrick Felts, if she had to guess.
The wolf must have seen the boy too; it let loose another howl and tore off through the field after the fleeing figure. Temperance let out a curse that would have turned her mother’s hair white and followed them both.
Chapter Seventeen
Why does this keep happening? Temperance traced a pattern over her jacket and used it to propel herself forward, but the wolf was still outdistancing her. Any moment now he would run the Felts boy down, and that would be the end. The end of Temperance too, if she was foolish enough to still be here when morning arrived. Why does everything I do in this town feel like it’s cursed?
She ran fingers down her coat in another pattern, pushing the ancient leather to its limits. It launched her again, and she heard the patches on the elbows tearing away. The coat couldn’t use the added material for this anymore than for reflecting bullets. A problem for later, that.
The beast lunged for the boy just as Temperance’s boots struck the center of its back. It staggered, not much but enough to miss its target. Temperance leapt away, and tendrils meant for her swatted against the wolf’s hide instead. She landed in front of Patrick, who had fallen into a muddy ditch. The boy looked up at her, the whites of his eyes wide as saucers with fear.
“C’mon beast! You want him, come get him!” Temperance waved an arm and pointed her gun. The beast let out a howl, the sound echoing all around her and reverberating through each leaf and stalk. Then the daemon charged.
Got to time this right. Steady . . . steady . . . . Temperance’s finger tightened on the trigger as the beast loomed before her.
From somewhere nearby came a muddled shout, the words lost through the drone of the rain. She paid it no attention at first. Then there was no way not to.
Light flared through the field, a ghostly blue so vivid, for a moment she wondered if the clouds had cleared enough to let in the moonslight. A figure stepped into the clearing, and all rational thought drained from Temperance’s head.
It was a horse, or at least had the appearance of one. Blue fire wreathed its entire body, and Temperance felt the heat of it even from here, hot against her cheeks like she had pressed them to a stove. The pain was intense and immediate.
I’ve seen flames like that before, she realized, shivering despite the heat’s intensity.
The steelfire horse reared up, and with a trumpeting whinny charged at the wolf. Temperance had enough sense to dive into the ditch, covering Patrick with her body. She lay there, face pressed into the mud, wishing she could burrow down into it to hide further.
The heat washed over her back, intense but not powerful enough burn her. At least she didn’t think so. Beneath her the Felts boy moaned and tried squirming away. She held him tight, lest he do something foolish like try to sit up.
Then the daemon wolf let out a howl that was more animal scream than anything else. The air filled with the scent of burning fur, acrid and foul. The heat on Temperance’s back winked out as quickly as it had appeared.
She sat up, and peered out of the ditch, almost afraid of what she would find.
The wolf still stood. There were patches of smoldering black mottled in its fur, and smoke drifted off its hide like mist over a pond. The beast wavered from side to side a moment, but didn’t topple. Apparently its resistance extended to steelfire in addition to more ordinary kinds.
It glanced down, its eyes meeting Temperance’s own. Mouth pulled into a snarl, it tensed as if about to lunge. Then its head swung back, and it loped off through the trees.
Temperance clambered out of the ditch. “Astor!”
I saw, I saw. The horse appeared at the edge of the clearing. I won’t lose sight of it. He disappeared as well.
Silence descended on the clearing, other than the hissing of a few fires as the rain doused them. Temperance drew a deep breath before reaching down to offer Patrick a hand. The boy hesitated a moment, then grasped ahold. A moment later they stood together in the field.
“I think you’re safe, for tonight at least.” Temperance eyed the boy sideways. He was almost more mud than human. “Let’s get you back home, I imagine your mother is worried sick over you.”
“W . . . What was that?” Patrick asked, swiping grime off his chin.
“Steelfire horse. It’s a Pistol Warlock thing.”
“But where’d it come from? I didn’t see nothing from your gun.”
A good question. Temperance glanced around. The area appeared deserted, but . . . there, just
visible through the rain was a farmhouse. The Jacoben residence, if she wasn’t mistaken.
“Never you mind about that. What were you doing out here? Didn’t I tell you to stay in the house?”
“I climbed out my window when my parents weren’t looking. You should’a seen that creature! It was snarling and walking back and forth, knew it was only a matter of time before it got the drop on me.”
“It wouldn’t have gotten within a dozen feet if you hadn’t broken the protection circle. Why can’t anyone in this town do as I tell them?”
Patrick hung his head. “My ma is gonna tan my hide.”
“You should be glad you’re still alive for her to do so. C’mon now, let’s hurry. No good saving your life if you die of chill out here.”
The rest of the Felts were waiting for them in their kitchen. Salina had her face buried in her hands, but came around quick enough when Patrick walked through the door. He wasn’t kidding about his mother taking to him, but on the whole Temperance thought he got away rather light. She was half-tempted to do the same, what with the trouble the boy had caused. Hard to believe just that morning they thought he was ready to be married off. If foolishness like that was what country living meant, she could thank her buttons that fate had spared her from a similar ending.
Dwelling on Patrick and his foolishness, Temperance couldn’t help but turn her thoughts to Ruth. She had been on the fence over helping the Mason girl before, despite her promise. After tonight, if she could save the poor girl from another day in this crazed little town, it was worth the trouble it might bring on them both.
Ruth just needed to endure her impending marriage for a few more days. Temperance felt certain she would have the matter with these daemons cleared up by then.
She stayed inside the kitchen with the rest of the family until dawn arrived. The beast never returned, never let out so much as a howl that Temperance heard.
“Appears the worst is over.” She told the family when the sun’s first rays appeared through the shutter. “I’ll get out of your home now.”
“Wait, Miss Alba.” Edmund came up and clasped her hand in his own. “I can’t tell you how grateful we are you kept our boy safe. Even if he ain’t got but two beans ‘tween his ears.” He glared in Patrick’s direction.
“Like I keep saying, thank me when the daemon is caught. Still, I don’t think we’ll be seeing it again today. With luck I’ll find its lair and bring an end to this whole unpleasant business before suppertime.”
The storm broke with the sunrise, so she only got mildly soaked on her way back to the Mason home. She shook herself off as best she could before entering.
“Well now, you look awful dry for somebody out in the rain all night.” Jonas slurped up a bite of egg as he spoke. “You manage to do your job proper yet, Miss Daemon Hunter?”
Temperance ignored the vile man, turning towards Ruth instead.
The other girl had her head down over her plate. She flicked a glance at Temperance before returning to staring at her breakfast, but it was long enough to see the dark ring around her eye. Several other spots on her face were turning puffy and yellow.
“What happened here?” Temperance asked.
“Oh, don’t mind Ruthie.” Agnes sounded cheerful enough, but there was a careful edge to it. When she looked at her daughter, her expression turned stone cold. “She had a rough night. The Felts called off her engagement to Patrick.”
“When did that happen?” It had to have been while she and Ruth were up on Castle Hill. Jonas must have refrained from “bringing it up” at supper until after Temperance was out of the house.
Agnes started to speak, but Jonas cut his wife off. “Never you mind. This here is family business, ain’t got nothing to do with an outsider.”
Temperance opened her mouth, to say what she didn’t right know. Before the words formed Ruth leapt up from the table and bolted out the door. Her father watched her disappear and shook his head, like he couldn’t believe she was ungrateful for the beating.
Somehow Temperance kept from strangling the man in his own kitchen, but it cost a good portion of her willpower. Instead she scooped up what remained of Ruth’s plate and turned towards the door.
“Just came to get breakfast before I go finish my job proper, as you so eloquently put it, Mister Mason. Wouldn’t want anyone to suggest I was taking advantage of your enormous hospitality.” She was out the door before Jonas could reply.
Ruth was by the woodpile, same place as last time. She pulled away as Temperance reached for her face, then relaxed and let herself be turned around.
“Not too bad, at least,” Temperance tried to smile reassuringly. “I’ve gotten worse in a few sparring matches.”
“I hate him!” Ruth spat the words. “I ought to put a knife in his belly while he’s sleeping. Would be less than he deserves!”
“Hey now, don’t go saying things like that. You don’t want to know what part of you it costs to take a life, believe me.”
Ruth sniffed and wiped her nose. “I don’t care. I can’t live like this any longer! You telling me you ain’t never been tempted to put a bullet in someone who done you wrong?”
“I’ve been more than tempted.” Temperance sat down and put an arm around the girl. “I’ve killed more than my share of people, but only when I thought it was the only way to keep myself breathing. Still, what you’re talking about, putting a man on the wrong side of the earth when he can’t even defend himself, that’s not the person you want to become.”
Ruth nodded, but said nothing. Temperance gave her a light squeeze. “It’s just for a few more days at most. Astor should return any minute to lead me to the daemon’s lair. After that, there’s nothing to stop us from cutting out of here as fast as we can ride.”
“Astor?”
Right. Probably should explain that. “My horse. He’s . . . different. We can talk to each other, after a fashion.”
“Will I be able to do that too, if I become a Pistol War—a Pistol Witch?”
“No reason you can’t. Hey, here he comes now.”
Astor came galloping in from the fields, broken lentil bushes scattering under his hooves. He skidded to a halt, and from the long look on his face Temperance knew something was up.
We got a problem.
Chapter Eighteen
“Problem? What do you mean, ‘problem’?” Temperance asked, leaping up from the woodpile. “I don’t want to hear ‘problem’, I want to hear ‘hop on, pretty lady, let’s go finish this’. Where’s that usual cavalier attitude of yours?”
Must have left it somewhere in the mountains. Running through the night will have that effect.
“Mountains? Is that where the beast holed up?”
Probably? Astor couldn’t shrug, as far as Temperance knew, but she got the sudden impression that was what he was doing at the moment. That stinking beast led me on a wild chase before ending at a sheer cliff. Thought maybe it got my scent and would put up a fight, but geld me if it didn’t start climbing. Left me there at the bottom like a damn fool.
“It did what?” Temperance practically choked on the words.
“What’s going on?” Ruth asked, only getting half the conversation. Temperance waved a hand to quiet her.
It climbed. Used those weird limbs on its back to stick to the cliff and went up pretty as you please. I tried sniffing around for another path up, but by the time I got there the beast was long gone.
Temperance scrubbed a hand against her face. This day couldn’t get any worse, and it had barely started as it was. Still, no reason to hold that against Astor.
As if reading her thoughts, the horse let out a dull whinny. Sorry, I know you’re champing at the bit to get out of here as much as I am.
“Don’t worry about it, partner. Not like I can expect you to just climb a sheer cliff on your own, now can I?” She patted his side and turned back to Ruth. “Bad news, looks like I’m going to be a few more days here. Think you can keep yourself fr
om doing anything foolish?”
Ruth screwed up her face something fierce, but she nodded all the same.
“We can talk more later, if you want. I’m headed back to the Felts now, see if maybe last night shook anything loose in Patrick’s head he wants to talk about.”
Ruth looked confused. “Patrick?”
“Yeah. These attacks can’t just be random, this daemon went after him and Johnnie for a reason. I wasn’t too worried over it before when I thought this was close to done, but with no more leads I need to see if he’s hiding anything.”
There came a squelch of footsteps in the mud. Temperance turned to see a boy jogging towards the house. Looked to be one of John Culling’s brood, though Three curse her if she could tell which. The boy went inside, and after a minute reemerged and headed their way.
“My pa’s calling a town meeting, in the square,” he said once he was close enough.
“Square? You mean the empty area with all the tables?”
“That’s the one.” The boy turned and scurried down the road.
“Hope this doesn’t mean more trouble.” Temperance gave Ruth a hand getting off the wood pile. “Shall we head there now, or wait for your parents?”
The girl gave her a flat look, and Temperance felt rather foolish. “Right. Let’s head there now, then.”
* * *
Most of the town’s other residents were already milling and talking in hushed voices when she and Ruth arrived. Temperance stood to one side, not sure what the mood of the crowd might be after last night. A few minutes later Mister and Missus Mason drifted in, and John Cullings cleared his throat.
“Edmund tells me that Patrick is still safe and sound this morning, but that the daemon slipped Miss Alba’s trap again.” Temperance braced to defend herself, but the mayor didn’t so much as glance in her direction. Instead, he continued on, “Given its latest message, we all know this ain’t over yet.”
Curse of the Daemon Beast Page 13
