Devon Monk - Cold Copper

She shrugged.

“How long do you think the power in it lasts?” he asked.

“I don’t have the foggiest idea.”

Silence as they stared at it some more.

Finally, Hink said, “Well, I’m done being baffled by it. Let’s turn it off.”

“I agree. No need for it to just stand there doing nothing. Also, it’s giving me the goose chills.”

Hink grinned. “I thought you said you weren’t afraid of it.”

“I’m not afraid. Just unnerved, I think. It has no head.”

“There is that,” he agreed. “Do you suppose I just turn that orb the other way to unscrew it?”

“I think so, yes.”

Hink walked up to it and did so. The entire thing stiffened, then slumped, falling forward. Hink caught it, grunted a bit. “Heavier than it looks,” he said as he lowered it to the ground. That he did gently, as if it contained nitroglycerine.

He stood back up, the copper and glass device balancing on his palm. That had come loose a lot easier than Rose expected.

“Did you break the wires?” she asked.

“Which wires?”

“The copper ones.”

He gave her a look. “Rose, all the wires are copper.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. The copper wires attached to the battery.”

He lifted the thing, held it so the lamplight caught it and studied the edges. “Nope. Doesn’t appear I did. Four wires, just like before. Do you have any complaints if I keep it in my pocket?”

“Other than it’s not yours? No complaint from me.”

“Come on now, Rose. Tell me you don’t like a man who isn’t afraid to just reach out and grab what he wants out of life.”

“Oh, sure. Confidence in a man is one thing. Thievery—”

The train car tilted so hard she was thrown off her feet and landed on her back end and elbows, then slid down the sloping floor and slammed into the door.

Hink was upended right behind her but somehow managed to land by locking his arms on either side of her, so he didn’t completely crush her when they collided.

The puppet came sliding toward them next, and Rose had a moment to be grateful the door she had fallen against was locked tight on the outside.

Then the dead body started speeding their way.

“Move!” Rose yelled. “Dead body, dead body!”

Hink pushed to one side, rolling, and grabbed ahold of her coat lapels as he did so, yanking her aside with him.

The puppet soldier thunked into the door where they had been only moments before. Then the dead body smacked into it with a meaty thump.

Rose suddenly realized she was sitting, well, mostly lying, across Hink’s body, their legs tangled in a most improper manner.

“Hey,” she breathed.

“Ma’am,” he said with a suggestive grin. “I do believe we have gotten ourselves into a bit of a jumble.”

“You’re going to kiss me, aren’t you?” she asked.

“I’m confident I am.” He did just that, and Rose was not shy about kissing him back. This was it, the last straw. She could feel it in every inch of her bones. Her heart was well and truly set on this man. He might infuriate her, test her patience, but she loved him. Not just because he was the first wild-minded fellow she’d met outside her little town.

She loved him for challenging her, for caring for her, for the wild, adventurous troubles he seemed to constantly land himself in.

Plus, he had a sweet airship. She couldn’t deny that added just a bit to her feelings for him. The Tin Swift was a place she could belong. A job she would love, running the boilers across every sky in the world. And Captain Hink was a man she could happily spend her life with.

All these thoughts flickered through her mind in a rush, then were replaced with this: his mouth pressing gently against her lips, catching at the curves of her with delightful attention to detail.

Just to see what he’d do, she opened her mouth a bit and gently bit his bottom lip.

What he did was groan, but not in painful sort of way. Then his mouth was over hers with a bit more intention and he did something with his tongue that made her lose all breath and all thought, and go wobbly at the knees.

She liked the feel of him, the taste and scent of him. She savored his body, strong beneath her, arms possessive around her.

And then the entire world crashed around them.

They were untangled and unkissed in a most startling way. One second the freight car and everything inside it went weightless and stirred up; the next second everything was thrown to the ground with a bang.

“Rose,” Hink called out. “Are you okay?”

She took in several hard breaths before she could push words out of her lungs. “I am. I am fine.”

She had landed against a wooden crate and scratched up her back a bit, and lost the belt on her coat, which might have been Hink’s doing, but other than straw in her hair and stuck to her dress, she seemed to have all her limbs in the right places.

Hink pushed himself up off the dead body, and straightened his coat, checking for the copper device in his pocket.

“You have a gun on you?” he asked quietly.

Rose checked to see if her gun was still tucked in her pocket. “Yes,” she said. “I have it.”

“Good girl. Now come stand here with me, back to mine, facing that door.” He pointed.

She walked toward him, the tone of his voice telling her this was not the time to ask questions. She did it anyway. “Why?”

“Because we just landed. Any minute now someone’s going to open one of these doors to see if their freight is intact. And they aren’t going to like finding us inside.”

She said no more, but stood, back-to-back with her airship captain, U.S. Marshal, and love. Rose Small raised her gun, cocked back the hammer, and waited for the door to bust open.

Out of the blackness came moonlight. And from that moonlight, came Mae. Cedar felt very, very relaxed, more rested than he had felt in at least a decade. There was no pain. It was a wonderful sensation, and he knew it would end soon.

All good dreams must bow to the morning light.

“It is done,” Mae said. She frowned slightly and pressed a cool cloth against his forehead. “The spell is complete. Are you awake? Cedar, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” he said, from both far away and near. Something, something wasn’t right with his body. He felt, strangely, as if he were in two separate places at once. It was…disconcerting.

“Good,” Mae said. “Very good. Let me help you sit.”

She did more than help, as Cedar lost track of where up and down were located while the room seemed to swing into place around him.

There was something at his back—a pillow. And he was sitting on a blanket spread out on the floor. Next to him lay Wil. Only Wil was not in wolf form as he should be. He was once again his brother, needing a shave and a haircut, asleep and covered by a heavy blanket. Around his neck was a thin thread, and on that thread was a cross.

“What?” Cedar cleared his throat and then looked back at Mae. The room didn’t spin this time. Even though it had only been moments, he felt less split in two. “Did you break it? Mae,” he said, unable to hide the relief in his tone, “did you break the curse for both of us?”

“Temporarily,” she said offering him a cup of water, which he drained. “The spell will last a few hours. Perhaps six or seven. That means you’ll need to return to the church before dawn.”

“What happens when the spell wears off?” he asked.

“We don’t know.”

“We?”

She nodded at Father Kyne. He lay on a simple cot, breathing heavy enough Cedar could clearly hear each inhalation and exhalation. His lips were moving. Praying, Cedar realized. He was saying prayers.