Devon Monk - Cold Copper

“For months now, though it has done no good. Ever since the star fell.”

“What star?”

“In the autumn night sky a star caught fire. It came from the west and fell to the earth.”

“And that was when the children started disappearing?”

“Yes.”

Cedar closed his hand over the copper bit. He could already feel the rising power of the beast within him. Soon, the moon would offer him its whiskey escape from this body, from this lingering ache, from his reasoning mind. Then all his world would be blood.

“Mr. Hunt?”

Cedar had squeezed his hand so tightly, the copper sliced his palm in three places.

“Is it the curse that drives you?” Father Kyne asked.

“My curse is no concern. Not until nightfall. Mrs. Lindson will make sure I am secured. Until then I will help look for the children.”

Mae raised her eyebrows.

“Or the Holder.”

Father Kyne frowned. “The Holder? Is that what you seek? Is that the task the Madders have bound you to?”

“You know of it?” Cedar asked.

He shook his head. “I’m afraid that I don’t.”

“Better for you that way,” Cedar said.

“In what manner does the curse take you?” Kyne asked.

“Like my brother, I gain the beast’s senses and body. Unlike my brother, I lose the man’s mind.”

“I believe I can help.”

“No, that’s fine,” Mae said. “I think it’s best we take care of this. We have done well enough so far.”

“Not help in…restraining him.” He nodded toward Cedar. “Not help in chaining the beast within him. But in breaking the curse. I believe I can break his curse.”

“Gentlemen, if you’re gonna shoot, better do it now,” Captain Hink bellowed as he strode into the freight car. “You ain’t gonna get a second chance.”

Rose couldn’t make out anything in the dark. But Hink, the fool, walked right down the narrow path between stacks of crates as if there weren’t three armed men in the shadows.

“Stop right there,” one of the gunmen said. “And get the hell off our train.”

“Your train?” Hink bulled across the distance like a man storming the deck of a ship, making enough noise for three. “Unless you can show me where you branded its haunches, I don’t think I’m inclined to believe you own this train.”

Hink drew something out of his pocket with his left hand, scraped his thumb over a section of it, and threw it off to one side.

The entire freight car lit up with a blinding orange flash that just as quickly snuffed out. It was one of the flares airship crews used, and in this dark, enclosed place, it was devastating on vision.

Two voices yelled out. Then, gunfire.

Rose ran into the darkness, her flash-ruined eyes no good to her. She found the crates by feel and ducked behind them.

She didn’t have a gun to draw, didn’t have a flare, and now, she didn’t even have clear vision. She wasn’t sure Hink was helping rescue Thomas or just getting into a fight for the sake of fighting.

The loud scuffling was followed by that particularly meaty sound of fists hitting bone; then everything went quiet.

Except for the sound of one man’s breathing.

She knew better than to call out. One against three? What were the chances it was Hink who still stood?

“You’re lucky I don’t throw you and that silly hat of yours behind bars,” Hink said.

He was standing? He’d won?

“For what, Mr. Hink?” Thomas said with a grunt, as if he were getting up on his feet. “Last I knew it wasn’t against the law to be roughed up by men of poor reputation.”

“Thomas?” Rose said. “Are you all right?”

She moved out from behind the boxes, her vision still muddy but clearing up quickly.

“Rose? I am fine, just fine. I would have been out of here in a moment or two. I was just waiting for my opportunity.”

Hink snorted. “You weren’t waiting for an opportunity; you were waiting for rescue. And I’m the one who did the rescuing.”

“I understand how you could see it that way,” Thomas said distractedly. “But I was just holding them here until you came and arrested them.”

“Arrest them?” Hink asked. “I would have pinned a medal on them for keeping you out of my way if they hadn’t shot at me. Seemed a favor keeping you out of my sight.”

“But you are a man of law, aren’t you? Captain Hink? Or is it Marshal Hink?”

“What I am, Mr. Wicks, is all out of patience. Get walking.”

Thomas stepped out from the corner of the car and tugged his jacket better into place. Then he dusted his hat and ran his fingers over the brim before placing it on his head.

“Miss Small,” he said with no small amount of delight. “So wonderful of you to return.”

“I couldn’t leave you here with those roughs,” she said.

He gave her a smile and a nod. “I am in debt to your kindness.”

Hink had stayed behind. He grabbed hold of one of the unconscious men and dragged him across the car. “Step aside,” he said as he passed Rose and Thomas. Hink opened the door, walked out with the man, then, a moment later, walked back in empty-handed.

“What did you just do with that man?” Wicks asked.

“Same thing I’m going to do with the next one.” Hink stormed down the car again, and did indeed drag another man with him to the door, then out the door.

“You’re throwing them off the train!” Mr. Wicks said. “They’re unconscious. Bleeding.”

“Don’t worry,” Hink said. “I left them their guns.” Then he strode over to the remaining gunman and slapped him conscious.

“I’ve just tossed both your friends off this train, and I plan to do the same to you. Unless you tell me who you’re working for.”

The man spit in Hink’s face.

“Wrong answer.” Hink grabbed him up by the coat and dragged him to the door.

“Wait,” Wicks said. “I’d like to know why they nearly killed me.”

Hink opened the door. The man in his grip whimpered. “Last chance. Tell me who you’re working for.”

“I’d rather be tossed in the dirt.”

“Happy to oblige.” Hink stepped outside, the door slamming behind him.

“They were trying to kill you over those crates,” Rose said.

“True,” Thomas said. “Unpleasant business, wasn’t it? I think it’s best we find a more comfortable place to finish our ride.” He offered her his arm.

Just then, Hink strode back into the place. He paused long enough to give Thomas’s extended arm a look, then, shaking his head, walked farther into the car, obviously looking for something.

Rose wondered what it was.

“Rose,” Thomas said again. “I’m sure there is a cup of tea and book waiting for us back in the Pullman car.”

Rose stepped away from Thomas. “You go on ahead, Mr. Wicks. I’ll be right there in a tick.”

“I wouldn’t think of it,” he said. “A gentleman always escorts a lady.”

“I don’t need a gentleman,” she said, surprising herself with that sudden truth. Then, a little kinder, “It’s thoughtful of you, but I need a word yet with Mr. Hink. In private.”

Thomas frowned and, for the barest moment, anger swiped across his face.

Rose held very still, startled by his reaction.

He swallowed and drew his bottom lip beneath his teeth once, as if folding words back into his throat. “Of course,” he said with careful casualness. “I’ll wait for you there.”

He walked out the door and closed it behind him.

“Why?” Hink asked from halfway across the car. “Man was offering you tea and comfort.”

“Because you need to see this. And I’m not so sure I’m interested in Wicks’s company.” Rose found the crate with the loose lid, and pulled the lid off. The men must have repacked the crate, setting the copper and broken glass carefully in the straw. She held her breath as a song poured out, copper notes cold across her thoughts speaking of pain, of sorrow, and of power.