Bulletproof Witch Read online

  Temperance grinned, then let off another shot as more faces appeared at the window. It felt as if a part of her that had been stolen away was once again whole. She might have lost Astor, and her coat, and everything else that was precious in the world, but she was still Temperance Whiteoak. She was still the Brimstone’s granddaughter.

  She was still dangerous.

  Time to show these pieces of scrum what it means to cross a Pistol Witch.

  Glass exploded into the cabin as men tried to thrust themselves inside, only halting when Temperance put a bullet between their eyes. Empty cartridges ejected hot and smoking to the floor one after another until Temperance was surrounded on all sides.

  Still William poured more hexbullets in her waiting hands. Occasionally she would throw them back and point to a different box, and they would switch to new tactics. The Gunpowder Gang pressed against the windows, or slammed in ever greater numbers against the door, but each time the two of them managed to hold the thralls at bay.

  “Why aren’t they shooting back at us?” Temperance grunted as they slid a cabinet back against the door for the third time after a bandit had almost made it inside. Her voice was beginning to go hoarse from all the incantations, and she could barely make out her own words over the groan of the wood.

  “I think they are afraid of hitting me. Lucius will not care how many are lost in this fight, so long as I am taken alive.”

  “Guess that makes sense.” Temperance turned to one of the windows, where a man was already halfway through. “Il Pesada!”

  The bandit screamed as hundreds of tiny blades tore his skin to shreds. Blood spattered everywhere, and Temperance just barely managed to keep from getting any in her eyes. Next to her, William shouted something that sounded like a curse.

  “I’m almost out! More bullets!”

  “Just a moment!” The boy scrambled across the floor, slipped in a pool of blood, and went crashing into the remnants of an old rocking chair. The boxes he had been holding flew away, scattering hexbullets everywhere.

  “Dammit! Calpa! Calpa!” Two more men fell back as green vines wrapped their bodies, sealing arms at their sides and leaving them twisting about helplessly.

  Temperance glanced around, looking for further threats. She had long since abandoned using any knockout rounds, as the upyr appeared to have the ability to awaken his thralls after only a few seconds. Of the shots remaining, many of them, like the elemental strikers, had too much risk of setting the whole cabin ablaze. That left her with vines, blades, spikes, and a few simulacra—if she was creative.

  Their supply had seemed endless only minutes ago, but now she could already see the bottom of a few boxes, and the bandits outside never stopped coming. No way to tell if there were ten thralls outside or a hundred. Likely they wouldn’t know until the last one fell.

  She reached down, picked up a pair of bullets as they came to rest by her boots, and loaded them with quick efficiency. Spinning, she sent them towards the door, which was once again a foot ajar. A bandit–sporting a week of stubble and filthy lindsey-rak pants several sizes too big for him–shouted and swung a truncheon at her head even as green vines climbed along his body.

  The club caught Temperance on the cheek, enough to stagger her. She fell back against one of the windows, then squawked as an arm wrapped around her neck. Pointing the revolver behind her, she managed to gasp out, “Calpa!”

  Immediately the arm let go. She spun about and saw a man scrabbling at his face as vines spread out of his nose and mouth. He collapsed backwards, but three other bandits took his place to push at the window and try to grab at her clothes.

  Temperance collapsed to the cabin floor. Her fingers touched cool metal. She lifted up the bullet, glanced at its runes, then loaded it. “Huéno!”

  White lightning filled her vision, leaving her momentarily blind. Outside came several screams, and a distant rumbling. Temperance rolled on her stomach and crawled in what she hoped was the direction of the weapon cache. Her vision came back to her the same moment that she reached it. Grabbing the top box, she started loading.

  “Look out!”

  Temperance glanced up at William’s scream. A man stood over her, a bloody gash running the line of his face. He grinned, red teeth flashing in golden light, and reached down for her.

  Aw, Hell. Temperance tried to raise her gun, words already forming on her lips. Everything seemed to slow down to a crawl.

  “Here, catch!” Something flew across the room. The bandit snatched it out of the air almost casually, then looked down at the sword he held, a confused frown creasing his bloody brow. William’s voice filled the cabin. “Sword, attack!”

  The sword leapt to life, slicing through the man’s hand as he continued staring at it dumbly. It twirled in the air, leaving a white after-impression behind in its passage. The bandit reached his broken hand up towards his face, eyes gone wide enough to show every inch of the whites. Before he made it, his head toppled from his shoulders, rolling across the cabin floor and coming to rest near an old dresser. The rest of his body fell backwards with a thump.

  Temperance spun towards the door. “Arande!”

  A white webbing launched from the revolver, striking the door just as another bandit was pushing his way through. He yelped and tumbled backwards, the webbing coating the doorway and pulling it shut. Temperance turned and fired again. “Arande! Arande!”

  More webbings coated the windows. One man was already halfway through, and his chin slammed against the side of the cabin as the white material pulled tight. He struggled against it, but the material held fast.

  “C’mon, that won’t hold long.” Temperance clambered to her feet and drew Benjamin Dunpeal’s knife. As the trapped bandit tried to look at her, a curse bubbling onto his lips, she sank the knife into the exposed flesh of his neck. Blood poured down the pommel as the man thrashed and gurgled and eventually went still. Pulling the blade free, she ran to help William push the barrier back in front of the door.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked as the cabinet toppled back into place.

  “Nothing worse than I had already. That was a clever move with that sword of yours. And here you told me you didn’t have anything to help us in a fight.”

  “I admit it has proven more useful than I would have ever dreamed. What should we do now?”

  “I’ve got a few ideas. Fetch me that box there.” Temperance collected one of the proffered bullets, studied it, then returned it in favor of another. She loaded another bullet from a different box and tossed several extras to William. “The webbing is about to give way. Get ready.”

  As the white nets covering the windows faded to mist, angry faces appeared on the other side. Temperance aimed at the first of these, turned her face away, and shouted, “Hueno!”

  Before the screams had even faded, she fired again. “Alucardo Mechura!”

  Black shadows oozed from the barrel of her gun, forming into the shapes of enormous bats as they passed through the window, formed from little more than darkness and nightmares. The screaming outside increased a hundredfold.

  “That ought to keep them occupied for a few—” Temperance cut off as more bandits pressed at the windows. Behind them, the door gave a groan, the broken cabinet sliding a foot across the floor.

  “Ack! Hilpen mil!” William flailed as a hand grabbed at his wrist and started pulling him through the window. He beat at the attacker with his other fist, but to little avail.

  Temperance dropped the bullets she was loading and dove forward, bringing up her knife. It cut into the attacker’s arm, leaving a gash several inches long, but the bandit on the other end continued tugging at William. She sank the blade in again, and again. The arm recoiled, leaving splashes of blood everywhere. Another hand shot in to replace it.

  “Damnation and Hellfire, hold on!” She turned and dove for the cache. Pulling open a box, she grabbed a handful of hexbullets. Hot metal ejected from the revolver, and she loaded more with a shaking hand. />
  One. William screamed as the hand pulled him right to the windowsill. Another bandit grabbed at the collar of his shirt.

  Two. They started to pull the boy outside. He flailed and gripped at the wall with his free hand.

  Three. William was halfway through, bellowing bloody murder, knuckles white where they clutched at the rotting wood.

  Temperance snapped the wheel into place and spun the gun towards the window. “Calpa, Calpa, Calpa!”

  Green sparks filled the air as the bullets rushed by. One of them struck William on the chest, the others passed into the dark beyond. Immediately the boy crashed back into the cabin, struggling as green vines crawled along his arms.

  “Don’t panic, William, I’ll get you free!” Temperance climbed to her feet, then staggered back. A crack like thunder sounded from the far window. The smoking barrel of a rifle emerged from the dark night.

  Pain lanced through Temperance, and she looked down to see a bloody stain spreading across her shirt. Her legs started to shake, the ground buckling beneath her.

  Dammit, not now. So much . . . Godsdamn pain . . . .

  As she started to fall, Temperance pulled her knife and flung it at the window. It sailed past the rifle, a gurgling cry following it. The shooter disappeared into the night, taking her knife with it.

  Temperance landed on her back, hand clutching at her stomach. There was a hole just above her right hip, and blood coursed between her fingers even as she pressed them against the wound. She couldn’t tell if the bullet had passed clean through or not, but likely it wouldn’t matter for a bit. Not much mattered at the moment, except the pain, like nothing she had ever felt. Even the wound in her leg paled in comparison.

  “Temperance! Temperance! Are you alright?” She could hear William struggling against his bonds. He would need help to get free. Someone really should help the boy with that.

  You. You need to help him, she reminded herself. Her thoughts were growing foggy, difficult to piece everything together. Warm liquid flowed past her fingers, dripping onto a skirt that was already soaked in the blood of dead men. C’mon, get up. They’re going to attack at any moment. Get up!

  Forcing herself into a sitting position, Temperance blinked and looked around. The door still stood ajar, but no bandits were pressing themselves through the gap. The windows showed no faces or grasping limbs. For the moment, they were alone.

  Temperance doubted that would last long.

  With trembling fingers she reached down and picked up her revolver where it had fallen. She plucked a hexbullet from an open box. “Hold on, William. Just got to . . . collect my knife and I’ll . . . cut you free.”

  Loading the bullet, she stumbled over to the window. If anyone was standing too close on the other side, they were in for the biggest last surprise of their life. She pointed the gun out into the dark night. “Fortana Mas Ilu—”

  With a loud crack, the ceiling overhead gave way. Debris poured down into the cabin, coating the floor and knocking several larger pieces of furniture askew. Temperance threw up her arms to keep from being raked to pieces by sharp branches.

  Debris continued to cascade down around them. At last it slowed to a halt, the night growing eerily quiet, only the soft groan of the remaining timbers above breaking the silence.

  A low moan came from William’s direction. Temperance lowered her arms. She stared into a face full of wolf-sharp teeth hovering mere inches from her own.

  “Lubjaleisei,” the upyr said, his grin colder than the gates of Hell themselves.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Five Years Earlier

  Water churned, and Temperance’s head broke the surface, sucking air into fiery lungs. The current spun her around as she struggled to stay afloat, growing deeper as more tributaries joined and mingled with the stream.

  By the time she thought to swim for the shore, the current was coursing along faster than a galloping horse. It carried her over several rocky rapids and one small waterfall before she managed to make it to the shallows.

  Heaving herself ashore, Temperance collapsed on her back. Above her the night sky was alive with stars, the twin moons just beginning to crest over the horizon.

  I survived. The thought did not bring the sense of joy she would have expected it to. She had escaped the lurker, true, but now she was alone in the wilderness. No supplies, no weapons, and no idea how to get back to Martin. She was completely defenseless.

  No, not completely. I still have Grandpa’s coat. I don’t know exactly what it did back there in the valley, but maybe I can use it to my advantage. If I can figure out how it works, anyway.

  She clambered to her feet. The stream widened out here before it abruptly ended where the coastline began. Now that she was paying attention, Temperance could hear the roaring of the surf playing against the sand.

  That solves one problem. I can always follow the coast back to Oceanside. Even if I go the wrong way, I’ll eventually run into another town. Martin says they’re thick as flies in this territory.

  For a moment she debated not going back to the old gunslinger at all. After everything that happened, he and Daniel could cook themselves in lard for all that she cared. If not for the weight of all the hexbullets that her apprenticeship had cost her, she might have left and never looked back.

  There was also the matter of several unanswered questions. Like why Martin had decided to leave her alone and unarmed with a damn lurker. She had been too close to death for weeks now to believe that was merely a dang test.

  Feeling more resolved in at least returning to Martin for answers—and her guns—she set off along the beach.

  As she walked, Temperance turned her mind to other matters. Like what had happened with the lurker.

  This was the second time her grandfather’s coat had surprised her. She had thought the incident with the Fisher Brothers little beyond good luck. Two times might be nothing more than a coincidence. But three? Three was divine, and even someone with Temperance’s scant knowledge of the Triarchy could read such signs for what they were.

  Maybe it has something to do with the patterns along the side? The designs worked into the leather weren’t runes—at least, none that she recognized—but that didn’t mean they weren’t magickal. It wouldn’t surprise her to know that her grandfather had tricks up his sleeve that nobody else possessed.

  She stopped next to an old tree that had been turned to driftwood by several changes of the season. Her hand started to crawl its way down the front of her jacket. It reached the first pattern, paused, then started slowly following the curve of it with one finger.

  This is dumb. No way that it’s something this simple. Sorcery takes reagents, and words of power. It can’t just be turned on with a few taps and—

  Her thoughts cut off as the jacket quivered, the material bulging along the bottom of the jacket. It lanced towards the ground, and the next thing she knew Temperance was cartwheeling through the air, the world spinning around her so fast it was almost a blur.

  With a splash, she landed in the ocean, the salty water stinging at her many cuts, clothing that had just begun to dry out filling back up to drag her beneath the surf. Temperance flailed, and her head broke the surface only for a wave to pour over her, filling her lungs and dragging her beneath the surface once again.

  At last she managed to kick her way to shore. Lying upon the sand, the waves lapping at her pants, she sucked in a breath. A smile started to play across her face for the first time in days. Perhaps weeks.

  Well, I know something now I didn’t before. Going to take a bit of practice to get used to it, though.

  She climbed to her feet and set off down the beach again. In the distance, several shapes bulged out of the darkness, the first houses of a coastal village. Temperance wasn’t certain that it was Oceanside until she saw the boardwalk. The little shacks were all dark now, the boards empty of screaming children and happy city folk strolling about enjoying the warm summer air. Only a few old newspapers
that were blowing about in the wind.

  Past main street she found the road that eventually led to the old gunslinger’s retreat in the mountains. It was darker among the houses and trees, but the moons had reached their peak now, shining bluish-green light through every gap in the branches.

  Temperance got halfway up the mountain before she remembered Martin’s traps. It had been difficult for her to notice the tripwires during the daylight. Beneath the moons’ distorting glow, her odds were less than impossible. Instead, she turned and headed deeper into the woods.

  I should probably wait until morning. Just as likely to fall into a ravine as remember the right direction to go.

  Yet for some reason Temperance’s legs refused to slow down. Instead she continued clambering over fallen logs and pushing through thick clusters of saplings growing so tight there was almost nowhere to place her feet. Once she managed to scare some sort of rodent from its nest, and the creature chittered at her angrily from the safety of a large bush. She ignored it and pressed on.

  Reaching a ridgeline, Temperance spied the road to Martin’s winding between the trees below. She thought that the house had to be just a bit further up the hill she was currently ascending, but couldn’t be certain. If she was wrong, it would mean backtracking through the dark and crossing the road again, but she felt a confidence born of tired limbs and a desire for this whole journey to be done and over.

  Perhaps she would wait until she had a good night’s sleep before laying into Martin. That, and breakfast. A plate of eggs and lightly toasted bread sounded just about perfect right now.

  She climbed to the peak of the hill and started down the other side. Up ahead the trees fell away, revealing a large clearing that she thought might be one of Martin’s fields. That meant the house lay just beyond. She broke into a fast walk, her limbs starting to ache now that they knew the work was almost finished.

  If Temperance had been rushing any faster, she might have missed it. As it was, she moved just quick enough that by the time she heard the clicking noise it was too late. She froze and looked down.