Bulletproof Witch Page 4

  As if summoned by her thoughts, Duchess appeared in the doorway. Despite the snow blowing its way inside, Temperance tried to leave the doors open so the horse could come and go. It also helped draw off the extra heat that made the barn feel more like the height of summer, the result of a spell gone awry that her father had never found the time to fix before . . . .

  She shook her head and smiled at the horse. He gave a soft nicker.

  “What’s the matter? I got dirt on my face or something? Not like you’re the picture of beauty and cleanliness yourself.” Temperance climbed to her feet. The barn door tilted sideways, and she swayed about as it righted itself. “C’mon, might as well go check those traps while we still got the daylight for it.”

  She stumbled towards the door. Duchess stood there unmoving, and Temperance almost crushed her nose against his flank before she caught herself. She stared at the horse, his eyes unreadable black pools. “What now?”

  His eyes flicked lower. She followed the gaze to the whiskey bottle still clasped between her fingers. “You worried about this again? Nothing in it, anyway.”

  She tossed it to a corner of the barn where it shattered with an almost musical melody. Wouldn’t be the first she had broken that way. Might not even be the first that morning.

  Didn’t matter. There were still bottles aplenty left. She was near to starving, her last can of food gone days ago, but of liquor she wouldn’t want for the rest of her life.

  Her soon to be very short life.

  Duchess backed up a step, and Temperance squeezed by into the yard, the wind hitting her with its full force as she crossed the threshold. Spring might have come to the rest of the world, but Cold Valley remained in the grip of winter, and would continue so for a few more weeks, at least.

  Despite knowing it was coming, the cold slap of air almost turned her around. Traps were likely to be empty anyway, just like they had been yesterday, and the day before that. Waste of her time to trek out there, really.

  Temperance looked back, and her stomach chose that moment to remind her of its displeasure. The growl it made sounded like a dog that had been kicked one too many times. She gritted her teeth, and when the rumbling ceased buttoned her jacket before climbing onto Duchess’s back.

  They set off towards the woods. Duchess hardly needed guidance anymore, the paths were well-known to both of them after a winter of fruitless trapping and fishing. At first it had been more about keeping herself occupied, but as the hills around Cold Valley continued in their stubborn refusal to thaw out and yield to the changing seasons, her fear had grown to be a tangible thing.

  Minutes passed in silence, Duchess plowing through snow drifts that still rose high enough to touch Temperance’s boots. At last the quiet got to be too much for her.

  “You ignoring me down there?”

  The horse’s ears flicked back, but he didn’t turn to look at her. Temperance grunted. “You’re ignoring me. This about the whiskey, again? Don’t know why you’ve got such a problem against it. Not as if there is much else to do around here.”

  Duchess let out a snort, the blast of air billowing away in a white cloud. Temperance threw up her hands. “Well, excuse me for trying to forget my troubles for five minutes. Maybe if this town hadn’t been filled with crazy fools that thought a cellar full of liquor was more important than putting away some dang beans like regular folk, I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place!”

  The horse lurched to a halt and turned to regard her at last. Temperance realized she had been shouting the last few words, her feet straining to rise up on the stirrups she didn’t possess. She forced her muscles to relax. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to yell like that. This winter’s got me going crazier than a jackrabbit with frostbite.”

  That half-hearted apology seemed to satisfy Duchess, and he set off plowing through the snow once again.

  Little Redstone Creek appeared between the trees, meaning that the first of Temperance’s traps was nearby. She slid from the horse’s back and went to check.

  There was nothing there, nor in the lines she had left in the creek. Further along she found a squirrel hanging already frozen in her second trap, dead from a snapped neck. Temperance cut it down, but couldn’t help thinking about how little good the creature would do to fill her aching belly. A half dozen of them would hardly put a dent in her hunger anymore.

  She had just finished checking her third trap—also empty—when Duchess let out a soft whinny. Temperance knew the horse well enough by now to hear the warning in his voice. She turned, a hand already going for the gun at her hip.

  Rising above the trees was a single gray line. Smoke.

  The ground seemed to tremble and shake beneath Temperance, and she was rather surprised to look down and find it undisturbed. She clenched her teeth, checked that the revolver was loaded, and set off through the trees. Duchess followed quietly behind. Well, quiet for a horse, anyway.

  “No, I don’t think it means anything good,” she said before the horse could ask. “Probably means the exact opposite. Everybody thinks the valley is dead, so at best it’s someone come to scavenge. At worst . . . .”

  She shook her head and didn’t finish that thought.

  It felt like an eternity, creeping through the woods, the smell of the smoke growing intense long before she ever caught sight of its source. The whole forest reeked of it now, that familiar stench of green timber burned before it was dry.

  Temperance climbed a hill, then hissed Duchess back as he tried to clamber up after her. She wriggled along on her belly and peered over the top.

  There was nothing below but the remnants of a campfire beneath the relative clearing of several shelter pines. Of the camp’s inhabitants, she saw no sign.

  Just in case, Temperance waited, counting the seconds under her breath. When she reached five hundred and no one put in an appearance, she got to her feet and approached the camp.

  It was apparent within moments that the site had been abandoned since at least that morning. Someone had kicked dirt over the fire to douse it, but several embers must have kept burning beneath and found their way free.

  Which meant that whoever had been here was likely in town by now.

  Temperance let out a curse she had overheard from one of her grandfather’s apprentices, something her mother would not have approved of. She turned around and found Duchess staring at her.

  “Looks like we’ve got company waiting for us back at home. Might just be scavengers. Like I said earlier, nobody knows that anyone is living out here except—”

  Except those miners that caused all the problems in the first place, she finished the thought in her head, too afraid to say it out loud. The ones that tried to rob us right after Grandpa died. Probably still mad at me for killing their friend. They had to wait all winter for revenge, and now they’re back in town to finish what they started.

  Duchess was still blinking at her, so Temperance shook her head. Without a word she mounted up and set off towards Cold Valley, urging the horse on at what was likely an unwise pace through the snowy woods. At the moment, she was too focused elsewhere to care.

  I know just where they’ll be waiting. Only place they know for certain where to find me.

  Despite her rush, they took the long path back to town, circling through the surrounding hills to mask their approach. Still, every second that passed gnawed at Temperance. She ground her teeth trying to keep the nervous energy inside her under control. Her hands kept checking the revolver, over and over.

  Still loaded.

  The remnants of her grandfather’s training house came into view, and Duchess plodded to a halt, lather building at the corners of his mouth. Temperance could feel him quivering beneath her from the effort.

  She slid to the ground, then gave the horse a comforting pat. “You wait here now and rest on up. Don’t know how long this will take.”

  Her footsteps crunched on the brittle snow as she marched towards the ruins. The sound echoed behind her,
and she turned to find Duchess only a pace or so back.

  “Didn’t you hear me? I said wait.” Temperance made a shooing motion. The horse just blinked. “Fine, have it your way. Don’t blame me though if you get a lead pill when the shooting starts.”

  The clearing was empty, any signs of the battle from several months back hidden beneath the snow. Temperance set hands on her hips and scanned the surrounding area.

  Nothing moved.

  “Huh, guess I got here before them. Unless they’re waiting in ambush.” She looked around for any footprints, but the snow was clear.

  Just to be certain she marched up to the training house ruins and scanned the area from there. Nothing moved in the valley below, so Temperance flopped down onto the bottom step to wait. The charred wood let out a groan beneath her but stayed put.

  Duchess ambled up the path and stopped next to her. He stared down, his black eyes unreadable.

  “Don’t you dare give me that look. I’m not crazy, you saw the fire, same as me. There’s somebody in the valley, and they mean trouble, I’d stake Grandpa’s guns on that.”

  The horse continued staring at her. Temperance glowered back.

  “I already told you, it has to be me. Nobody else left to do it. I’m the only protection this valley has left.”

  More silence.

  “No, I’m not being irrational! You think I want to be out here? You think I wouldn’t rather be back at that barn, washing away every memory of the last season? Instead, I’m out here freezing to pieces to defend graves and ruins because that’s all I have left!” At some point Temperance had climbed to her feet. She realized she was shouting now, but couldn’t stop herself. Couldn’t stop the tears that came with it, either. “Why can’t you understand? I’m the only one left! Mama is gone, Da is gone, Grampa is . . . gone.”

  The fire that had burned so hot inside her a moment ago sputtered, then went out. Temperance’s shoulders sagged. She mumbled, more to herself than to the horse, “I’m all that’s left. And soon I won’t be here either.”

  Silence fell over them, and Temperance stared at her feet. When something touched her shoulder, she almost fell over in surprise. Duchess nuzzled her, and she reached up to stroke the horse’s mane.

  “Sorry about that. I’m . . . I’m not doing so good, am I?” The horse nuzzled her again but said nothing.

  Her stomach let out another growl, and Temperance noticed that the sun was close to setting by now. She looked around at the snow-covered ruins. “This is stupid. There’s no one coming for me, for revenge or otherwise.” She shook her head. “Let’s get on home for supper.”

  Duchess glanced at the squirrel slung over her back, and Temperance felt her face crack into a smile, if a somewhat broken one. “Well, maybe not supper, but something close, anyway.”

  They traveled down broken streets, shadows stretching towards the far hills, charred timbers rising like blackened bones around them. At last her father’s barn appeared in the distance.

  It may not be home anymore, but it’s as close to it as I’ll ever get. Would have been nice to have left here after the thaw, but I don’t think that’s going to happen now. If today is any sign, I won’t make the end of the week.

  Distracted as she was, Temperance didn’t notice anything amiss until Duchess snorted in alarm. She glanced up, and the sight sent an icy chill down her spine that had little to do with the weather.

  The barn door was closed.

  Temperance had her gun in hand before she even knew she had drawn it. She threw the barn doors wide open and dove to one side, swinging her gun around, words of power already forming on her lips.

  “Abay—”

  The words died in her throat. A man sat relaxing on a bale of hay, and at her appearance rose with an almost casual grace. Temperance stared at him, slack-jawed, the revolver dropping forgotten to the barn floor. Behind her, Duchess let out a snort.

  “Good to see you again, Temperance.” The man doffed his hat, then glanced around. “Pardon for the delay, but business held me up. If I’d realized what I would find, I’d have been here months ago.”

  Temperance’s whole body shook. Tears streamed down her face again, but this time she paid them no heed. Without conscious thought, her legs moved forward, and the next moment she was running, falling into the man’s arms, sobs wracking her entire body. As he held her close, she managed to get a single word out through her gasps for air.

  “Martin.”

  Chapter Five

  Midnight came and went, yet sleep had still not found Temperance. Although the ground was soft and loamy, she couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position no matter which way she turned, her coat barely keeping the chilly air at bay. Nearby, William snored loudly, wrapped in a blanket he had produced from somewhere.

  Light from the twin moons bathed the ground around her. This time of year the blue-green aura was brighter than a campfire. Temperance could see it even with her eyes closed.

  Aw, Hell. She flopped on her back and let out a little sigh. It was no use trying to sleep while thoughts about Astor kept itching at the back of her skull. She felt like a part of her had been ripped clean out.

  Something in particular kept playing through her mind. Her grandfather had told her that familiars couldn’t be possessed by a daemon—that was one of the main reasons she settled on Astor.

  Maybe she had been misled in that regard, but somehow Temperance doubted that.

  Perhaps it was possible for a daemon to possess a familiar if it formed a pact, same as with a human. After all, Astor shared part of her soul as well as her mind, according to the nonsense spouted by the Triarchy. Might be there was a grain of truth in there somewhere.

  Would Astor have made a pact, if he thought her life was in danger? Temperance didn’t doubt for a second that he would, but the facts didn’t add up. For one, where did this mysterious daemon come from? He couldn’t have just been lurking around the riverbank, waiting for some helpless victim to mosey along. Besides, Astor would have had no way of knowing what her situation was, separated as they were.

  There was also the way the creature changed. Daemons might corrupt their host over time, but the process took days, sometimes weeks. Not the span of minutes she had witnessed.

  No, that was three strikes against daemon possession.

  Could the whatever-it-was predate her bonding with Astor? Something the horse had carried even before the two of them met? That was certainly possible—likely, even—given what she saw today. If so, it explained much.

  The familiar bond she shared with Astor had never worked as it was supposed to. Temperance always assumed this was due to some failing on her part in casting the spell, but other than their inability to communicate over long distances, it never posed an issue. No reason to think it was anything but a quirk of fate.

  Now, she wasn’t so certain.

  Temperance tried to recall anything else that she might have overlooked, any hints that there was more to Astor than just a simple horse. There wasn’t much. The bonding process gifted him with speed and stamina, but nothing that other familiars wouldn’t possess. He often seemed to know things that he shouldn’t, and his ability to track daemons was unusual, to say the least. In addition, he was apparently older than he had let on as well, if he truly knew her grandfather back in his younger days.

  Putting all of those pieces together told her . . . nothing she didn’t already know. Astor was Astor. If he had been hiding anything more, the secret must have been buried so deep even he didn’t realize it.

  Maybe he didn’t. Temperance almost sat up, her mind going wild as it ran faster than she could follow. Might be Grandpa sealed something inside him. Something I’ve never seen before.

  She wasn’t so arrogant as to believe that she knew all the monsters and nightmares that haunted Korvana. Perhaps there was something out there in the wildlands, not a daemon but close to it, that James Whiteoak encountered long ago. Something he couldn’t kill, only trap an
d seal away.

  However, it would have been a tremendous undertaking. Flesh was a poor conduit for magick, and the spell would have needed to be more complex than anything she had ever seen, let alone attempted. Why, the sheer scale of it—

  This time, Temperance did sit up, her coat sliding off one shoulder, her fists clenching the loam to keep them from shaking.

  Burn me for an utter fool. Why didn’t I think of this before now?

  She pulled her saddlebag close and started digging through it, wrinkled clothes and damp biscuits tossed aside without a second glance. She’d regret that when her belly started aching in a few days, but right now she didn’t care.

  At last she found what she was looking for: a small leather-bound book, the edges frayed but otherwise unharmed from its double trip down the river. The book had also survived an exploding building, so Temperance suspected there was a bit of sorcery woven into its binding.

  It was titled Advanced Thaumatik Theory and Application, a book she had acquired back in Arkton from a rather unscrupulous reagent merchant, and for which she had made little progress reading during the several weeks of bed rest while her legs healed.

  Still, she had read some of it, and what few parts hadn’t passed between her ears like so much smoke called out to her now.

  Turning to a page near the middle, she came to the last passage she had read.

  Binding Runes

  Despite the name, binding runes are not, in fact, used for restriction and containment. Rather, they link and combine various spellforms to create a more complex pattern.

  While such runes allow for amplified effects several times greater than could be achieved by individual runes alone, such an advantage comes at a cost. Should anything damage or otherwise corrupt the key binding rune, the entire spell can change in unpredictable ways. Furthermore . . . .