Six Guns Straight From Hell - Tales Of Horror And Dark Fantasy From The Weird Weird West (21 page)

The sorcerer, Hop Sing, did not follow the beast, for he commanded it from afar, but a dozen tong hatchet men trailed the t'ien kou at a respectful distance. Even at this distance, and in the dim light of the moon, Crow could tell by their stride that they were unnerved by the supernatural fiend that accompanied them. Still, they came armed with pistol, curved knife, and hatchet.

Crow's strokes at the oars carried them into the shadow of an empty ship, and he heard Jing-Wei's breath coming in short gasps. “My fate is upon me.”

Crow grunted, not willing to resign himself to defeat so quickly. He hoisted his Henry .44 rifle to his shoulder and let the boat drift into the umbra of an overshadowing hulk. He fired twice in quick succession at the t'ien kou, striking it on the breastbone and in the skull. Both bullets ricocheted away and the hound from the dark outer voids came snarling to the end of the wharf, unhurt.

“
It is futile,” said Jing-Wei. “Did I not tell you that no earthly weapon can harm it?”

The beast paused and gazed suspiciously at the caliginous waters that lapped against the barnacled pilings. It yelped and the cry stabbed like a cold knife into Crow's brain. He winced and shifted his aim, steading his rifle against the oarlock and timing the swells. If he couldn't hurt the beast, perhaps he could thin out the ranks of
boo how doy
. At the moment, they approached in clear view of his rifle, confident that the astral hound would draw his fire. They seemed more concerned about staying away from the fangs of their own ally than they were about bullets being fired from an unsteady boat in the bay.

A swell sent Crow's first shot singing high and over the head of his target. His second shot was better timed and a tong fighter crumpled into the mud, a bullet rattling in his chest.

The
boo how doy
fighters had the long braids of their queues wrapped around their hats, always a tell-tale sign that they were on a mission of deadly intent. Seeing one of their number down, they wasted no time reaching for the pistols thrust through their sashes. As they descended the steep street to the bay they sent a barrage of lead skipping across the water. A few shots struck the longboat and more than a few buried themselves in the strakes of the ship behind them. Crow and Jing-Wei were in the shadows beneath that ship and difficult to target, however there was so much lead in the air that a chance shot might easily strike either of them.

The t'ien kou continued to snarl and spit, hesitating to plunge into the bay to pursue its prey. A tong gunman made the mistake of stepping a bit too close and it leaped, venting its spleen on the hapless
boo how doy
, and rending him to bloody ribbons.

Crow glanced to Jing-Wei and noticed she sat upright on the bench of the longboat, not flinching as the bullets flew around her. “Get down,” he shouted. “You'll be killed!”

“
If only I should be so fortunate,” she said, but she complied as Crow timed another shot and sent a tong gunfighter spinning to the ground.

The t'ien kou was frantic to reach its prey, but it was still loathe to plunge into the churning waters. It scrambled down the wharf and leaped onto an empty barge that was listing to port. From there it leaped to a water-logged skiff, and then used its eight legs and prehensile tail to walk the mooring line of an empty steamboat. Crow saw that derelict ships were so thick upon the bay that by using this method the t'ien kou might reach them without every having to touch the water.

The
boo how doy
scrambled after the fiend, following its lead, leaping across mist strewn chasms between forsaken watercraft and swarming up anchor and mooring lines. Crow might have picked off a few more of them, but he took hold of the oars and began drawing upon them as fast as he could, taking them deeper into the maze of empty crafts.

The fogs grew thicker and they played cat and mouse among the towering shadows of the ship graveyard. Occasionally, the piercing cry of the t'ien kou would float through the spectral mists and though the
boo how doy
moved mostly in silence, they hooted strange calls to each other as they split their forces, spreading their numbers among a few of vessels so that Crow and Jing-Wei wouldn't be able to double back to the safety of shore.

Crow caught glimpses of the dark shapes of tong hatchet men lurking among the mists and several times he heard the clicking of long nails, like rain upon a canvas tent, as the t'ien kou's many legs propelled it across the bare decks of ships whose shadows they had just departed. More than once shots echoed among the maze of ships as they rowed themselves behind the safety of another hulk.

Through the sliding mists Crow read the name
Euphemia
on the side of a ship that was draped with trailing rigging over the side. He called softly to Jing-Wei, “Catch hold. The tong fighters have us pinned down.”

Crow abandoned his oars and the two of them clambered into the slick netting, and then the Indian shoved the longboat away with his foot, so that it sliced through the waters empty of passengers, a drifting ghost ship to divert the attention of the
boo how doy
. Indeed, Crow's estimation was correct, for as soon as the boat drifted from its cover of boat and shadow a volley of gunshots rang out, splintering oars and strakes. While this barrage of lead chewed at the longboat, Crow and Jing-Wei climbed over the edge of the brig.

Drawing a holdout .45 pistol from his waist Crow shoved it into Jing-Wei's hands. “If a hatchet man gets to you, shoot him with this. There's only one shot, but I'll come running.”

“
And if the T'ien kou reaches me?”

“
I'll see what I can do to prevent that,” said Crow.

He expected Jing-Wei to ask him just how he was planning to accomplish this but, mercifully, the question was interrupted as they heard wailing and the gnashing of teeth resonating from the decks beneath their feet. For a moment Crow thought that the ship was possessed, for he had seen such things in his life, but then he remembered a conversation with Jake Higgins about the sheriff and his lack of room for prisoners.

“
It's a prison ship,” said Crow. “The prisoners are locked below. Whatever you do, don't let them persuade you to let them free. The worst of the worst are aboard this ship.” With that he glided to the mast and began mounting the tattered rigging that remained. From this vantage point he peered down through the coalescing fog. Feet firmly entrenched in the rigging, he leaned his Henry rifle against the mast and laid the bead on a shadow that moved across the deck of a nearby freighter. Crow's rifle spoke when the shadow moved into the opening.

A tong warrior cried out and fell to the deck. Crow shifted his aim and glimpsed a strange shadow detaching itself from the leaning mast of a ship to his right. It seems that Crow hadn't been the only one with the idea of gaining the vantage point of height. Still, though the tong fighter in the mast of the adjacent craft had the drop on Crow, he wasn't equipped with a rifle. The range was long enough to be difficult with a rifle; with a pistol there was little chance of hitting and the bullets went awry, lost in the fog.

Crow levered another bullet into the chamber, ejecting the spent brass of his previous shot so that it spiralled and was lost in the darkness. He heard it tinkle against the deck below and he fired. The tong warrior pitched back, but his foot was tangled in the rigging, so he hung upside down, twisting as he bled to death.

Seeing no other available targets, Crow fished ammunition from the bandolier beneath his duster and replaced his spent rounds. Crow had accounted for a third of the tong fighters, but he had been very fortunate. The Henry rifle held ten cartridges plus one in the barrel and scarcely had Crow finished reloading, the scent of lingering cordite heavy in his nostrils, when he saw a dark bulk leap from a barnacled scow to the freighter. By its size and the way that it moved, Crow realized that it could only be the t'ien kou and with an exclamation he slung the rifle over his shoulder and slid down the rigging, finally swinging to the deck.

He found Jing-Wei backed against the rail, a tong hatchet man in a slouch hat advancing upon her with a long curved knife in his hand. How Crow had missed seeing the tong fighter he didn't know, but it was possible he had been on the ship before he and Jing-Wei had even reached it. At the sound of Crow landing on the deck, the hatchet man whirled. Crow reached for his rifle, a mistake, for the tong fighter was upon him with a speed he hadn't imagined possible. He barely managed to raise his rifle and deflect the descending blow of the hatchet man's knife with the barrel.

The tong fighter raised his knife again for a blow that would take off Crow's scalp, but a shot rang out and a crimson stain spread across his blouse. He crumpled to the deck and Jing-Wei stood behind him, gun smoke curling out of the barrel of the hold-out pistol. Crow had no time to thank her for saving his life. Instead, he snatched up the curved blade from the fallen tong fighter and rushed across the deck of the brig, the shouts and curses of the imprisoned calling to him from below.

He was not a moment too soon to reach the stern of the ship, for the t'ien kou came gliding across a mooring line, eight legs and tale moving in concert, so that he performed the task with a graceful ease that belied its hulking form. Just the appearance of such a beast had blasted the minds of lesser men and even Crow felt the icy fingers of fear clawing at his heart. But he steeled himself and moved forward, laying the tong blade to the mooring line and severing the thick hempen line that was drawn taut by the weight of the fiend. The strands parted like wheat beneath the reaper's scythe and the spitting fiend went tumbling into the waters where it thrashed and wailed.

For just an instant, Crow had a hope that it might drown, but to his great chagrin he saw the legs begin to paddle and the thing moved through the lapping waters toward the
Euphemia
. Crow threw his Henry rifle to his shoulder and began to fire at the swimming beast. Bullets ricocheted off its sloped skull and it lurched out of the waters, gripping the strakes of the brig with its clawed paws. It pulled itself up the side of the ship as surely as a spider on a wall, even while Crow poured a barrage of .44 bullets over the side.

When he fired the last bullet and expended the last empty brass cartridge, Crow threw aside the rifle, fully convinced that Jing-Wei's words had been true, no mortal weapon could harm the t'ien gou. Still, he was no sorcerer, how could he combat a fiend that was untouchable by bullet or blade? He didn't have long to ponder the riddle for the t'ien kou leaped the last ten feet to the rail of the
Euphemia
and scrabbled over the edge and onto the deck.

The glowing violet eyes of the fiend caught Crow's and he found himself unable to act or even to think. Surely a moment more of inaction would have meant that he'd have been helplessly rent to pieces beneath the plethora of the beast's claws. Something in Crow's mind broke free from the t'ien kou's mesmerizing gaze though and he struck with frantic strength, bringing the curved blade of the tong fighter down between the glowing eyes of the fiend. The tang of the blade snapped off and went spinning past Crow's head and just before the t'ien kou rushed upon him, he realized he was holding nothing but the hilt of the blade.

The fiend bowled Crow over and he was tossed and turned beneath the tread of the many feet of the t'ien kou, the claws ripping and tearing at him as it passed. For the t'ien kou had fixed his sights on Jeng-Wei who was standing next to the far rail. Apparently, the t'ien kou's lust for angelic beauty was greater than his hunger for the flesh of a holy man or gunfighter and it brushed Crow aside as if he were inconsequential as it rushed forward to savage the China girl.