Devon Monk - Cold Copper

The Pawnee curse turned him into a beast like his brother, but he had far less control over the animal instincts. When he changed, all he wanted, with every pump of his heart, was to kill the Strange. This tired, in this unknown city, he would be too likely to kill at random, kill people in his rage to destroy the Strange. He didn’t want to lose control near a city this size with Strange so near. He didn’t want innocent deaths on his hands.

He’d spilled enough innocent blood. With that grim thought, sleep finally claimed him.

Cedar startled awake as the Madder brothers tromped into the room. They each took a blanket and made beds, rolling up without removing coat or gloves, and snoring nearly as soon as they hit the floor. From the rhythm of breathing in the room, he knew Mae and Miss Dupuis slept through their arrival.

Wil twitched his ears. Other than opening his eyes into slits for a moment, he didn’t move.

Cedar closed his eyes again, but sleep shifted further from his reach. He rolled over, which didn’t do anything but make his back hurt, so he turned the rest of the way, facing the stove, the women, and the window, with Wil and the door behind him.

He was exhausted, mostly dry and warm. Why couldn’t he sleep?

The skitter and odd scratch of tiny footsteps brought him awake, all of his senses open.

Something was in the room with them. Something was moving with uneven clawed feet toward the women. Toward Mae.

Cedar reached to the floor for his gun. He tugged it from the holster, then sat, aiming at the noise.

The noise stopped. It took a moment, no more than that, for Cedar’s eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Then he saw it.

A creature with too much head for its spindly body, fully the size of a grown man, hunched over Mae, who lay sleeping. Its big head turned toward Cedar.

It was made of bits of straw, spun in a tight twist as if from a spindle, with dirt and leaves and long, wet pine needles caught within it all. The arms were too long, overwide hands dragging along the floor next to buckled legs that ended in tiny hooves.

The head was round, but the face was sharp, with no nose and a wide, slotted mouth full of pointed teeth. Two very human eyes glittered with damp light.

Strange. It had to be. But the beast inside Cedar was not stirring to kill it; Wil was not stirring to kill it.

He’d felt no warning that it was in the room, no warning it had crossed window or threshold. Yet it was so close to Mae it could strike her.

It opened its mouth and made a sound like a hissing moan, almost like crying.

If Mae held still, he could shoot it. He would miss the curve of her hip by inches. But if she or the creature moved, he’d surely hit her.

“Mae,” he said softly, raising the gun slowly to show the Strange that he was about to blow it to bits.

“Mae.”

And then the creature rushed him. It screeched and howled as it ran on all fours across the room and leaped for him, mouth wide, teeth glistening like knives.

He raised the gun again, this time pointing it toward the creature as it whispered, “Hunt-er. Run.” It opened its huge mouth and sank teeth into his neck.

Cedar yelled and turned the gun.

“No! Cedar, don’t!”

Mae Lindson grabbed for his gun hand, pulling it away.

The creature was gone.

Cedar blinked hard, instinctively pulling his finger away from the trigger, since the gun was held by both him and Mae, and remaining very still until he gained his wits.

“You were dreaming,” Mae said. “A nightmare. A nightmare.”

Cedar took in the room. No more than a few hours must have passed since they bedded down. The Madders were still snoring. Miss Dupuis was awake, sitting wrapped in her blankets, staring through the dark at him. Wil stood in front of him, head lowered, eyes glowing.

Mae crouched in front of him too, wearing nothing more than her chemise, with one white strap having fallen off to reveal the creamy curves of her shoulder, collarbones, and breast.

“You were dreaming,” she said again, pulling the gun gently the rest of the way out of his hand. “We are safe here.”

“There was a creature. A Strange.”

Wil’s ears flicked up, and he started around the room, scenting for the intruder.

Mae took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Here? Now? Can you see it?”

He peered at the corners, looking for any shift, any odd shadow.

“No. It wore straw and leaves. It was bent over you.”

“I’m fine. Nothing touched me. Do you want me to light a candle to see if you’re hurt?”

Cedar glanced at Wil, who had finished a full search of the room. Wil’s ears flicked and he gave Cedar a steady stare.

There were no Strange in the room. Maybe there never had been. Wil would have woken up if there were, wouldn’t he?

He wiped his hand over his face, rubbing away sweat, and realized Mae must have woken to see him holding his gun to his own head.

“Mae,” he said. “I’m sorry. I…It must have been a nightmare.”

“It was,” she said firmly. She slid his gun back into the holster. “Can I get you anything?” she asked. “Help you in some way?”

She sat on her knees, beautiful and soft in the darkness. But she was also worried, and from the goose pimples on her skin, he knew she was chilled in the cold room.

“No, I’m fine,” he said. “Just fine. Go on back to bed. Morning’s coming soon enough.”

She paused, then leaned forward and gently pressed the palm of her hand against his cheek.

He wanted to hold her, draw her in to him, bring her beneath his blanket and warm her. But then she leaned away, walked back to her bedding, and folded down beneath her covers.

Miss Dupuis, still across the room, released the hammer on her gun like the slow crack of knuckles.

Cedar nodded slightly. She’d had a gun beneath the blankets aimed at him. Practical. But unsettling, nonetheless.

She shifted and stretched out under her blankets, but lay facing him.

Cedar rubbed at his hair and tried to settle his mind. His neck ached from where the dream creature had bit him. He pressed his fingers there and didn’t feel blood, though it was too dark to see.

He was no stranger to nightmares or the Strange. And he knew that creature had been watching them. It had known what he was and had called him “hunter.”

Maybe he wouldn’t let Mae chain him at the full moon. Maybe it was time for the hunter to hunt.

Rose left the house at a run. She’d overslept and dawn was already starting to shine up the sky. There was no time for walking now. If she was going to catch the train out to Kansas City, she was going to have to steal Hink’s horse.

But before she left, and even though it might mean she’d have to gallop a mile or two, she wanted to take one last look at the Swift . She was the first airship Rose had ever been aboard, and the first she’d ever had the chance to help repair. She couldn’t leave without saying good-bye.

The door to the big wooden shed was propped open by an overturned bucket. The voices of two men drifted out.

“. . .get word back to you soon, so watch the wire,” Hink said.

“Chicago, you think?” said another voice, that of Mr. Seldom, Hink’s second-in-command.

“It’s where I’ll start looking. If you hear anything, send me a dove. There has to be another connection between the east and west trade and I want to know what it is, and who’s behind it. And watch Miss Adeline. I’ve a feeling the witches are in this deeper than they’ll admit.”

“What about Miss Small?”

Rose skidded to a stop and ducked just behind the open door.

“She’s…” Hink sighed. “Look after her for me. Keep her on the boilers. She’s got a hell of a knack for steam and I have no doubt will be the best boilerman the Swift has ever had if she gets over her stubborn foolishness.”