Tin Swift(124)

With his blood too.

Wil yelled something, a strangled cry. But Cedar would not let his brother die.

This was his fight.

Shunt threw a vicious kick at Cedar’s leg.

Cedar felt bone crack.

Two more steps to the door.

One more.

Then there was no ground beneath his feet.

There was nothing but wind and night and the monster, Mr. Shunt, squirming and flailing beneath him, his eyes, his inhuman Strange face filled with fear.

Cedar laughed and fired every bullet in the gun.

Shunt screamed as bullet after bullet tore holes through him faster than he could stitch them up.

They fell. Together. Forever. The ships spun above them, the ground spun beneath them, the wind burned like frozen blades.

Cedar ran out of bullets. He let go of his gun and drew his knife instead.

Shunt sliced at him, biting, tearing at Cedar like a wild animal.

Shunt was very much not dead yet. But Cedar was going to make sure he accomplished that one thing before they both hit the ground.

He stabbed the knife into Shunt’s chest, digging for something vital, something fatal he could cut off, pry loose, destroy.

The blade struck something in the center of his chest and Cedar jimmied it loose.

It popped free and metal wings, gold and crystal, like a clockwork bee or dragonfly zipped past his face.

Mr. Shunt stilled, stiffened. His eyes were no longer filled with fear. They were filled with hatred. “Die,” he exhaled.

Cedar just kept stabbing, digging, pulling out cog, bone, and flesh.

Until Mr. Shunt suddenly lay into the wind, arms spread wide, head thrown back.

And even though Cedar was holding on to his coat, Mr. Shunt shattered, blowing apart into a thousand oily pieces that sifted like pebbles through his fingers.

Cedar yelled out his rage, wanting Shunt’s blood, wanting to snap every bone in his damn body, wanting to feel him die again and again.

A cannon blast from high above him clapped across the mountains.

Then a thousand whips, no, ropes, flew past him. He heard the fans of the ship roar, as if the vessel were turning hard and fast. Then those ropes were right below him, forming a net with bolos weighting it. A net that pulled open and created a wall between him and the ground rushing up at him.

Cedar hit that net like a man striking stone. The ropes lashed around him, closed tight, and slammed his fall to a stop so quickly he heard his nose break, felt his ribs snap, heard his neck crack. And then he blacked out.





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE


Daylight and the drone of fans woke Cedar from a deep sleep. That, and pain.

“Morning, Mr. Hunt.” Alun Madder leaned forward in the chair, puffing on his pipe.

Cedar tried to moisten his mouth. Didn’t work. “Mae?”

“Sleeping right over there in the cot you set her in. Rose is sleeping too. So are Captain Hink and Joonie Wright. All of them getting along well enough.”

Wil, in wolf form now that it was daylight, lifted his head from where he was lying on the floor beside Cedar. His old copper eyes burned with accusation. There was no blood on him. That was the one good thing about the curse. Injuries healed quickly.

But from Wil’s gaze Cedar knew he’d be spending the night apologizing to his brother for jumping out of the ship.

“I’m thinking those native gods should have given you wings instead of fur, Mr. Hunt, the way you dove into the night. For a second there, I supposed you thought you could fly.”

Cedar pushed up, only made it halfway before his ribs sent hot licks of pain through him. His head felt heavy and his neck hurt. So did every other damn inch of him.

Wil growled.

Cedar lay back down and Wil stopped growling.

“We’re under way?” he asked.

Alun reached into his voluminous overcoat, pulled out a flask and offered it to him. “Bryn’s towing the Swift.”

“Where?” Cedar asked.

Alun nodded to the flask and Cedar took a swig. Moonshine burned like lightning down to the soles of his feet.

He exhaled as the heat spread over his muscles and out to the tip of each finger. He took a second swallow, then handed it back to Alun.

“Kansas. I hear it’s lovely this time of year,” Alun said.

“Thank you,” Cedar said.

“Oh, it is my pleasure, Mr. Hunt. My pleasure.” Alun took a swallow of the hooch, then stood up. “Sleep yourself out. We’ve a while of sky ahead of us.”

Cedar closed his eyes. He didn’t think sleep would claim him, but the constant hum of the fans and the rocking of the Swift sent him down the path soon enough.





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO


Mae sat in the rocking chair near the hearth of the coven’s gathering hall. The familiar smells of her childhood surrounded her. She was home. And it was suddenly the last place she wanted to be.

Miss Adaline, the current matron of the coven, stood near the window with a cup of tea in her hand. “You have exposed us, Mae Rowan.”