Bulletproof Witch Read online

  William looked as if he wanted to say more. Instead he gathered up the remaining saddlebags and hustled towards the trees. Temperance turned around and slipped between the wagons.

  Inside, the camp was in utter chaos. Men ran in every direction or cowered behind piles of barrels, firing at every shaking tree branch. The horse-beast moved with lightning speed, appearing on one side of the camp to spear a startled bandit, only to spring from the trees on the other side a moment later, sending men scattering before it. Temperance ducked as a dead man slammed into the wagon behind her, leaving a bloody trail down the canvas.

  At the center of it all was Richard Whittaker, barking orders that his men appeared to follow only half the time. He grabbed one by his shirt and yelled into his face, then turned to fire several shots from a revolver into the treeline.

  Temperance’s anger boiled up at the sight. That was one of her revolvers the man was using, wasting good shot like it was going out of style! At least the fool didn’t have any hexbullets.

  She started forward, shoving aside several men who had the misfortune to wander into her path. Only when she was about halfway across the clearing did it occur to her that she didn’t have so much as a rock to throw at the man. She froze.

  It was at that moment Richard turned in her direction.

  The bandit leader stared, then yelled something that was lost over the gunfire and monstrous shrieks. He leveled the revolver at her, and there was no mistaking the intent in his eyes. Temperance dove to one side as a bullet blew a clod of dirt apart where her feet had just been.

  At least he isn’t aiming to kill me. Might be I can use that to my advantage. She landed behind a log the men had been using as a bench, now littered with the remains of their supper and several broken mugs. A man lay face-up in front of her, eyes wide and unseeing, his hand still wrapped around an old rifle.

  She grabbed the rifle, checked that it still had a round in it, and rolled to the log’s edge. Richard was fighting his way towards her. He yelled something at her again.

  Temperance raised the rifle and let off a shot. The bullet struck Richard right in the center of his chest—then ricocheted off into the trees. The bandit leader paused, giving Temperance just enough time to curse her own stupidity.

  I guess this must be what it’s like for anyone that’s ever gone up against me. About time I got a taste of my own physik, I suppose.

  She swung the rifle like a club as Richard stepped over the log. Grabbing it with his off-hand, he pulled it from her and cast it away. His grin was wide enough that Temperance wondered if his face might just split in half.

  “I told you, Girlie, no more magick tricks. Pity, I wanted to keep you around for tomorrow’s show. Guess you’ll just have to be there in spirit.” He pointed the revolver at her heart.

  Temperance only half heard him. The bandit’s words sparked something in her mind. As his finger tightened on the trigger, she remembered what it was.

  “Valejas Permundo!”

  The hex sphere in her coat pocket—the one with the ominous label of “bees”—activated in a flash of yellow and green light. Richard dropped the revolver with a yelp of pained surprise and set to slapping at his chest, his arms, his face. Red welts sprung up wherever bare skin showed, and blood ran down his cheeks as the bandit leader clawed skin away with his fingertips. Waving an arm frantically in front of himself, he toppled over backwards.

  Temperance jumped to her feet and dove for the bandit. He let out a growl as she landed on top of him.

  “This is for hitting me!” She made a fist, then buried it in the side of Richard’s face. Another followed, and another. Men ran screaming around them, paying the scuffle no more mind than a grasshopper at a picnic.

  At last Richard went limp. Temperance shook her sore hands, then wiped the backs of them on her shirt. She stood up, grabbed the sleeve to her jacket, and pulled it free of the unconscious bandit.

  Few sensations in life compared to having that old leather on her shoulders once again. As her arms slid down the patchwork sleeves, it felt as if she were putting her own skin back on.

  She gave the man a parting kick, then collected her revolvers and stuffed them into her skirt. A quick pat of the man’s waist didn’t turn up her hunting knife. Its loss was painful, but not insurmountable. She turned back towards the wagons.

  Several men stood between her and freedom. The fighting that had kept them occupied before had since lulled, and now a dozen pairs of eyes locked upon her. The bandits raised their weapons, not even bothering to shout.

  Without even thinking about it, Temperance’s fingers danced along the surface of the jacket. She braced herself for the rush of movement.

  The coat gave a hiss like a steam engine, and a few sparks trailed after her fingertips. Temperance cursed.

  A bullet struck her shoulder, then shot back into the line of men. One of them gave a cry of pain, and then they were all firing at her. Temperance raised her arms into a cross pattern over her face, not sure what to do. Cold sweat dripped along her spine.

  A sharp whistle tore through the sounds of battle. Temperance glanced between her arms and gave a cry of joy.

  The men attacking her dove in all directions as a pair of horses tore through their midst. Atop one of them sat William, laughing maniacally and swinging to either side with his hammer. One of the bandits was too slow to get out of the way, and the hammer took him above the ear. He dropped to the ground like a stone.

  “Hurry, Temperance!” William shouted, turning the horses and racing for the trees.

  Temperance’s heart thudded in her chest with a mixture of joy and spent battle fury. Her fingers ran over the jacket once more, and this time the leather stretched out with the speed of a striking viper, lifting her into the air and hurtling her over men and wagons both. She landed a few feet from the remains of the tree that had held her captive and set off running without a backwards glance. William sat on a horse at the bottom of the hill, waiting for her. He flashed a smile as she clambered into the other saddle.

  “That was real stupid, you know that?” Temperance turned her horse towards the setting sun, leaning forward as she urged the animal to go faster.

  “Stupid, yes, but better stupid than dead!” The boy hadn’t lost his mad grin.

  “I suppose I can’t argue with that. Was quite the picture you made, riding through the middle of them. What about the rest of their horses?”

  “I cut the others free. The bandits should not find following us so easy.”

  “Might keep them busy long enough for us to get the sheriff in Sweetwater after them.” Temperance glanced back at the camp. “Assuming any of them are left by then, anyway.”

  From the middle of the camp the horse-beast appeared over the trees, skin turned red in the light of the setting sun. The beast’s eyes turned, found Temperance and William’s retreating forms, and let out a trumpeting cry. It plowed through the treeline towards them.

  “Dammit all, can’t we catch a single break?” Temperance kicked her horse and started pulling ahead. “Time to put your riding skills to the test. Go!”

  William let out a laugh and leaned forward until his head pressed into the horse’s mane. The two beasts, more plow animals than anything else, tore through the soft loam of the marshes, barely avoiding breaking legs a dozen times over. The ground passed by in a blur as shadows lengthened, making each passing moment more dangerous than the one before it.

  There’s no way we can make the river before it catches us, Temperance thought, the knowledge a cold weight in her gut. Even if we did, nothing to say it won’t follow us right in. Best chance is finding a place to hide.

  Hiding places, however, were few in the barren salt marshes. Most of the trees at this point were still leafless and dry from the winter, and what few rocks were to be found couldn’t have hidden Temperance, let alone the horse she was riding. She scanned the horizon, praying that a miracle would present itself.

  When the miracle
appeared, it was so unexpected that Temperance almost missed it. Off to their right, the remains of an old tower appeared, its broken peak only a few feet above the treeline. The few rays of sunlight that caught on it reflected a rainbow of colors that seemed to shift and change as she watched.

  More native ruins, and these look in better shape than the last. Might be the walls are strong enough to withstand whatever damage even that monster can inflict.

  “Follow me!” she shouted at William. “I’ve got an idea!”

  They turned, and behind them the horse-beast gave another shriek, like that of a hunting cat closing in on its quarry. Temperance squeezed her legs, urging every last drop of speed from her horse. The poor animal had its head pulled forward as far as it could go, lather dripping from its mouth in foamy clumps.

  Trees snapped and shuddered as the monster closed in on them. The tower loomed closer, but the horse-beast was only feet behind, spider legs carrying it over anything that it couldn’t simply push out of its way. William yelled something, but Temperance couldn’t hear it over the pounding blood in her ears. The black mouth of the tower yawned before them.

  With a last burst of speed, the horses galloped between the crumbling stonework, shadows dropping on them like cloaks as they passed the threshold.

  Temperance leapt from the saddle and spun about, pulling revolvers from her waistband. The bandit’s shots hadn’t done much to the horse-beast, but perhaps she could at least scare it off.

  The monster skidded to a halt several feet from the entrance. It let out another trumpeting cry. Temperance tensed and waited for it to strike.

  An attack never came. The horse-beast looked to the side, cried again, and then looked back. Glowing purple eyes stared directly at Temperance without seeing her.

  What in the frozen Hells? Temperance lowered her weapons. She moved to the very edge of the opening and waved a hand in the air. The horse-beast blinked, then turned and lumbered away. A few moments later, it slipped from sight.

  “That was most strange.” William appeared at Temperance’s shoulder and peered out into the darkening marsh. “Why did it not attack us?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know. Not like it missed us going in here. Even if it couldn’t see, that monster should be able to know my exact location once it’s that close.”

  “This link between the two of you, is it a tracking spell?”

  “Not exactly. More of a side effect.” Temperance stared out at the trees, waiting for the beast to return. The marsh remained quiet, even the bandit’s camp long out of earshot. “Something must be interrupting it.”

  Perhaps whatever had happened to Astor was interfering with their bond. Temperance hadn’t noticed any changes with the heat spreading along her spine during their harried flight, but it might be the problem only went one way.

  Except, this hadn’t been like outside the canyon. The monster had to have seen them hiding in the tower, and it surely saw them ride inside. Even if the bond was faulty, that wouldn’t have made any difference to the horse-beast’s eyes.

  She shook her head and moved to tend to the horses. “Might as well make camp. I don’t think anyone will come looking for us tonight with that monster prowling about.”

  “Can we make a fire as well?” William rubbed at his shoulders as Temperance unsaddled her horse.

  “Fighting energy wearing off, eh?” She chuckled. “Don’t fret, it won’t get too cold in here, that stone should keep the worst of it out, if this place is as big as I think . . . .”

  Temperance trailed off. Turned. She stared at the entrance, and the stone it consisted of.

  The layers of color, one right on top of each other.

  Oh, Hell, I really am a thrice-cursed fool. Grandpa would have never let me hear the end of it for missing so many dang clues.

  She moved back to the entrance and ran her fingers along its edge. While the stones appeared ready to crumble to dust under her fingertips, they were quite solid, with little evidence of decay or erosion. On closer inspection, most of the damage to the building appeared to have been from outside influences, such as a large tree that had collapsed against one side.

  Of the stone itself, the feel of it was strange. It did not appear to have been carved into blocks, but rather shaped by some force Temperance didn’t understand. The surface was smooth to the touch, each block near identical to one another.

  Feels the same as the stuff in that tunnel back in Shady Hollow. At the time she had assumed it was a natural formation that someone carved a tunnel through. Now, though . . . .

  Someone put that stone in the research lab tunnel on purpose, I’m sure of it. Probably for the same reason the stone is here.

  Yes, the more she thought about it the more certain she was. Temperance turned back to William. “This stone, I think it’s the reason that monster can’t see us. We hid in one of these native buildings that night we met, remember? Same situation, the monster lost us immediately and ran off. It’s got to be something to do with the building itself.”

  Her words kindled a memory she had almost forgotten in all the recent chaos. A year ago, when she and Astor had been near the end of the daemon Belial’s trail, they had run into some trouble. Around the turnoff for Gregor’s Pass, the trail had gone cold. Astor had fumed, claiming the daemon must have played some trick on them. Only after they had reached the other side was the horse able to scent out the daemon again.

  Temperance had found her familiar’s frustration rather humorous at the time. Now it occurred to her that the trail had gone cold right before they entered the Painted Caves. The same caves where she had first seen the strange layers of color.

  The same layers she was looking at now.

  What does it mean? Does Astor’s ability to follow daemons have something to do with what’s happening to him now? Temperance fumed inwardly at the unanswered questions. It felt like every time she learned something new, there was another puzzle beneath it that just made the situation all the more confusing.

  She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she almost missed hearing William speak. The tail end of his question penetrated her skull. “What did you just say?”

  “I asked what you meant. You said these are ‘native’ buildings?”

  “Oh, that.” Temperance gave a tug on one of the stone blocks, trying to tear a chunk free. She grunted as it held fast. “All of us that live in Korvana, we aren’t originally from this land. We sailed over the Wide Sea from Galinor several centuries ago. Before that, this whole continent was uninhabited, or at least so we thought at first.”

  She tugged at another block, and this time several pieces tore free. She sifted through them and took out the two largest. “When the first settlers arrived on these shores, they found strange ruins, like this tower here. Someone lived in this land before us, but whoever they were, they must have passed to the wrong side of the dirt a long time ago. Most countries in Galinor can trace their history back over two thousand years, and not one of them I’ve heard talk about this place ever being inhabited. Well, inhabited by anything other than daemons, anyway.”

  “Could the daemons have built these structures?” William asked as they unsaddled the horses. “They are intelligent as us, or so I have been told.”

  “Intelligent yes, but creative not so much. They’re more interested in seeing things torn apart. Preferably in the most literal way possible.” She chuckled and shook her head. “Anyway, daemons still need people for hosts. Without us, they wouldn’t be much smarter than these horses here.”

  One of the animals flicked its ears and turned to regard her with a flat expression. The sight reminded Temperance far too much of Astor when he was upset at her. She quickly turned away.

  “So this land was empty before your people arrived?”

  “That’s right. We haven’t been here for . . . about two hundred years now, I think?”

  The boy nodded. “Interesting. When I first heard about Korvana from the merchants, I ass
umed our stories were wrong. Perhaps that was too hasty a judgment.”

  “Stories?”

  “In Isterial we tell stories about the history of this land as well, along with the people that once dwelled there.”

  Temperance frowned. “Stories about Korvana?”

  “Yes, although until recently we did not call it such. Rather, it went by the name given to it by the Dawnbringer.”

  “Oh?” Temperance leaned back and rested against a smooth stone. This one did not have layers of color, but was a more plain gray. “What do they call it?”

  “Paradise.”

  The word sent lightning coursing down Temperance’s spine. Paradise? Is that the same Paradise said to be the home of the Three, I wonder?

  She didn’t consider herself to be the most religious of people, but the coincidence of such a name between the two religions was more than a little strange. Especially since—according to the Triarchy, anyway—this land had been quite the opposite from anything resembling Paradise.

  Besides, if I remember right, the Three reside on a mountain at the center of Galinor. Name is probably nothing more than a coincidence.

  “So what happened to the people that lived here?” she found herself asking.

  “According to the stories my mother told me, long ago humans lived in this land, unplagued by fears of the setting sun. They were watched over and blessed by the Dawnbringer, and every day was a joy.

  “Then, the first of the upyr ships appeared in the night, stealing people away from their homes and carrying them across the water. Over time, more and more were taken, until people learned to lock their doors at sundown, to not travel far from home, and to be wary of strangers standing in the moonslight.”

  This sounded more like the stories Temperance had grown up on. Right around this part, a dashing hero usually rolled into town, solving everybody’s problems with a fistful of bullets and a pile of dead outlaws. She suspected this story would not end that happily, but leaned in closer all the same.