Tin Swift(123)

Rose was still breathing, easier than she had been. Her color was better too, at least in her face, some of the natural pink and freckles appearing on her forehead, nose, cheeks.

The Holder looked like someone had melted it down to pour a liquid sheet of tin across Rose’s shoulder and chest. He wondered if the key had gone liquid inside her body, if that was why her skin and eyes had been turning gray.

“Don’t touch it,” Alun Madder said. “It might take some time for the Holder to draw all of the key out of her blood and bones.”

Cedar didn’t wait around to watch. He carefully unclasped Mae’s hand from Rose’s and carried Mae over to one of the crew’s cots toward the front of the ship, where he eased her down gently. He tucked a blanket up around her shoulders and brushed her hair away from her face.

She was breathing, but didn’t stir.

A startled cry filled the room, and was quickly smothered out.

“Joonie!” Miss Dupuis said.

Cedar turned, but his nose, his ears told him what was happening before his eyes confirmed it.

Mr. Shunt stood in the doorway, Joonie Wright’s back pressed hard against him. Three of his long, knobby fingers pressed over her mouth, the razor-sharp point of his index finger poised over her eye.

He must have climbed the anchor line, even though that was nearly an impossible thing.

But then, Mr. Shunt himself was a nearly impossible thing.

They had called the Holder, and Shunt had followed.

Cedar and Mae were the only two people at the head of the ship. Of the people toward the rear of the ship, Wil stood nearest Shunt, hands loose at his side, head bent, so he looked up through his hair at the monster. He might be standing in a man’s skin, but it was wolf and rage that filled him now.

Cedar knew exactly what Wil was going to do. He was going to kill Shunt.

But not if Cedar killed Shunt first.

“Give the witch to me, Hunter,” Shunt crooned. “Or this woman will die.” He twitched his pinky and Joonie gasped as blood spilled down her neck.

Cedar didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. If he did, Shunt would slit her throat.

“The witch,” Shunt hissed. “Now.” He jerked his ring finger across Joonie’s mouth.

She screamed as he sliced her lips open.

Miss Dupuis already had her hand on her gun. So did Ansell, Seldom, and Guffin.

But no one could shoot Shunt without hurting Joonie.

“You want the witch?” Cedar said, shifting his shoulders so that Shunt could better see Mae lying helpless and unconscious in the cot. “Come take her from me.”

Shunt was fast.

So was everyone else on the ship.

Cedar felt like time wound down, slow, slow, slow.

Wil, faster even than Cedar, leaped at Shunt, gun already firing at his head.

Shunt flicked a silver blade from his cuff. The blade struck Wil in the chest.

Thread spooled out of Shunt’s other hand to cinch around Joonie’s neck. Then he shoved her at Wil.

Joonie, eyes wide, collided with Wil.

As Shunt ran for Mae.

Shunt yanked the thread. Joonie’s head snapped back just as Wil caught her in his arms and they both went down.

The crew of the ship unloaded their guns. Into the doorframe, into the shelves, into the wall where Shunt had been just an instant before.

Shunt always one inch ahead of each shot.

The three Madders each pulled out devised weapons. Light blew through the ship. Sound rocked the sky and deafened. Lightning licked across metal lashing for Shunt. Any one of those weapons was enough to kill him. And not one of them could.

Shunt was too fast.

And besides, Shunt was Cedar’s to kill.

Cedar ran straight at him.

He pulled his gun as Wil yelled his name. As the Madders reloaded their weapons. As the crew cursed and fired again.

Cedar caught the lapel of Shunt’s coat. Yanked so hard, Shunt spun sideways toward him. Cedar muscled him into the gun in his fist.

Cedar was still running, pushing Shunt back toward the door. He shoved the barrel of the gun into Mr. Shunt’s chest as far as it could go.

And pulled the trigger.

Shunt staggered back, too many arms, too many joints, too many blades and fingers and teeth cutting, digging, squirming to try to get away from Cedar.

But Cedar would not let go of the monster.

Shunt smashed his fist into Cedar’s face, fingers digging for his eyes.

Cedar fired again. Shunt’s hand jerked away from his face.

Wil was moving. Almost on his feet. He had no weapons.

Cedar glanced at him. He was bleeding, his arm hanging broken at his side. Cedar knew his brother had a plan. And he knew it would be suicide.

Shunt shoved his fingers up under Cedar’s ribs, slicing, stabbing through muscle and scraping against bone.

Cedar yelled at the pain, but did not let go. He pushed. Ran. Pounded toward the door. Squeezed the trigger again, the gun slick with Shunt’s blood and oil.