Steam (Legends Saga Book 3) (23 page)

“Ordering death so as not to bloody your hands?” Preen sneered, raising her voice to be heard over the roaring storm. “That only leaves me with one way to disarm you.”

The constable fell to his knees, gripping his throat. Saliva gushed and bubbled over his lips, soaking the front of his shirt. Blood vessels popped in his bulging eyes as he struggled to claim a whisper of breath.

In her hand, Preen held his pink and wriggling tongue.

“
Preen
!” John elbowed his way through the fleeing crowd to the edge of the platform. “
You don’t have to do this! You have your freedom! Take your coven and leave while you can!
”

The wind shook her braid free, mahogany strands rippling and swelling behind her in her stride to meet him. Hitching her filthy skirt, she crouched down to his eye level. He had once thought her an angel, now she let him gaze upon the devil within.

“I’d like nothing more than to rip your still beating heart from your chest and show it to you,” Preen whispered, her tone a blend of sweet seduction and utter loathing. “Nathaniel is the
only
reason I’m showing you mercy. He needs at least
one
of his parents. Be good to him. Treat him with love and kindness. If he has magic in him, raise him to trust it, to use it, and
not
to be the sniveling coward his father is.”

John’s mouth opened in response, but unfortunately Preen was no longer listening. A stillness in the midst of the frantically fleeing masses called to her. Goody Cromwell, standing rooted amongst the chaos, watched Preen with folded arms and an approving smile. Preen rose in challenge to the once rabid wolf she viewed now as nothing more than a whimpering pup.

“Sister, please. We have a means of passage!” Tituba tugged at Preen’s shirt sleeve. “Join your voice with ours that we may leave this place and never be victim to these horrid people again!”

Preen shrugged her arm free with a roll of her shoulder. Her glower fixed on Goody. “The good reverend’s wife, bending the ear of so many in this town.
They need to see her true face!
”

Drawing her palm skyward, Preen lifted Goody off the ground, higher and higher over the shrieking crowd. The incognito succubus didn’t scream or fight it. Instead, she threw her head back and laughed, drunk on the intoxicating rush of power cradling her.

Somewhere in the darkest regions of Preen’s mind a hypnotic voice, as velvety smooth as melted caramel purred to her, beckoning her to action.
Show them, show them all. They think you’re the devil here. School them on their ignorance by revealing the true face of evil.

Thunder clapped overhead. A flash of lightning illuminated Preen’s dilated eyes that burned with the desire to rid the succubus of her smile. Her will stretched out in the form of tendrils of black steam that rode the roiling winds to their giggling target. Twining around Goody’s ankles and wrists, the darkness obeyed Preen’s command by forcing Goody’s limbs out in opposing directions.

At the first sickening pop of her shoulder dislocating, Goody’s eyes blinked to glowing rubies. “
Do it, girl
,” the demonic beast within rasped. “
Prove yourself to me
.”

Euphoria was found in the rush of power pounding through her. Crossing her arms in front of her, Preen flung her essence out wide. Muscle tore. Bones snapped. The meat sack that had once been Goody Cromwell was quartered over Salem. Her blood rained down, covering Preen in its warm stickiness. Shrieks rang out, women fainting at the gore. The space Goody had vacated only seconds before was now occupied by a creature comprised of shadow, whose black wings flapped in time with Preen’s hammering heart.

“
You are worthy
,” the shadow rumbled. Before Preen could move to prevent it, the being dissipated into a stream of smoke that forced its way into Preen’s mouth, nose, and eyes with her next inhale.

Her head snapped back, the malevolent life-force violating and consuming her.

The town fell silent. Even the storm ceased, as if holding its breath in anticipation of what was to come.

Preen’s coven, drenched in blood and clinging to one another, recoiled at her nonchalant approach.

“You wanted to leave?” she mused, seemingly oblivious to her burning red eyes. “Let’s go.
Day to night, horrid plight. Soaring free, no harm to me
!”

That which her sisters had tirelessly chanted needed only an abbreviated verse from Preen’s lips. In a flash—reminiscent of the Northern Lights—the earth shuddered, and the coven was gone.

Chapter 26

Ireland

Considering her reputation and career kill stats, most people would have cowered away from Ireland’s rampage. Not Ridley. He spun on her, wearing the face of war. His arms pulled defensively from his sides, his hands balled into tight fists.

Planting her feet, Ireland stared him down. “You’re not going,” she stated in place of small talk or conversational niceties.

“Like hell,” Ridley snarled, his slate blue eyes gleaming like a dagger’s edge. The wind tossed his hair into a disarray of tangles. The effect added a rapscallion edge to the once polished pretty boy.

Seemingly oblivious to the brewing tension behind her, Sister Peyton swiveled from the contraption she squatted in front of. Made from a leather storage trunk, it housed a flickering meter where the handle had once been. Fixed on top sat a giant, antique light bulb, illuminated by coils of copper wire fed through a hole at the top of the truck. The wire traveled on to the large pavilion horn of a phonograph fixed to the opposite side.

“Ridley, can you hand me that wrench?” Peyton asked, only then noticing the hostile vibe sparking through the air. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were in the middle of …” She trailed off when she realized she couldn’t pinpoint the proper noun to describe the situation. Bracing herself on one hand, she leaned back to retrieve the wrench herself, all the while doing her best to pretend she
wasn’t
listening.

“I wouldn’t belittle what’s between you and me by calling it love.” Stepping in close, Ridley’s cold steel eyes trailed over Ireland’s features, searching for an answer to a question he didn’t dare ask. “I’ve fallen in and out of love more times than I can count, with hordes of women I can barely remember the names of. The causes for my affection as plentiful as the women themselves. The swan like curve of a neck. Full lips curling into a mega-watt smile. A lone freckle just behind the knee. Every reason a flimsy one that was easily overlooked when I grew bored—and I
always
did. That paltry L-word doesn’t suffice what I feel for you … but another does.
Loyalty
. You are the strongest person I have ever met. You run head long into situations that would make any other sane person scurry for shelter. You handle your soul crushing curse with a grace I truly envy. Yet in spite of that you maintain the tenderness to take my hand and act as my anchor when the seas of death and despair rise around me. These elements have earned my loyalty, one even your stubborn martyr complex can’t shake. So,
yes
, I am going with you. And there isn’t a damned thing you can do to stop me.”

“You’re right, there isn’t,” Ireland rasped, her mouth suddenly parched by her hunt for a coherent response to his beautiful sentiment.

Unfortunately, no such rebuttal existed. Not when, more than anything, she wanted her team right beside her for this. Be that as it may, if they accompanied her—if she was too weak to stand alone—they could be killed. For that she would never forgive herself. She would fall on her own sword to spare herself an eternity of living with that guilt. Out of alternatives, or further negotiation strategies, Ireland clicked her thumb and middle finger together. A slight whir told her the weapon Wells entrusted her with was armed.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” she croaked. Locking eyes with him, she watched his anger dissipate at the uncharacteristic exhibit of her soft side. Her hand swept up, curling her fingers to hide the silver plate on her palm. Tenderly, she pressed her fingertips to the rough stubble of his cheek. “Still … I’m not sorry for this.”

A quick pulse of her index finger pricked his skin and administered a dose from the armed cartridge. Ridley jerked at its sting, his brow puckered. His mouth fell open to voice a protest he could no longer articulate. Knees buckling, his pupils dilated to expansive black voids. Catching him in the cradle of her arms, Ireland eased his head to the ground.

As the fog descended, she stayed right with him, stroking his hair and easing him into his slumber.

“I know you’re going to be pissed when you wake up, but you’ll be
alive
,” Ireland whispered, leaning in to dot a kiss to his forehead. “I know you don’t like that certain L-word, but I have no problem with it. Not in this case. I
love
you, you pig-headed moron, and I’m doing this to save you from yourself.”

Gently extracting her arm from beneath his head, Ireland rose to her feet. As she watched, the blanket of sleep snuffed out the fading embers of Ridley’s consciousness. “You and Noah take care of each other until I get back. And, Ridley? I
am
coming back.”

Legs trembling, Ireland turned away and stared out at where the marsh swelled into the Roanoke harbor.

What awaited her beyond that?

Death?

Perhaps.

Fate had flipped the coin on that, and its final rotation was moments from landing.

Catching first her axe, then her sword, Ireland secured both weapons at her hips. Eyes gleaming like polished amber peered out from the shadows of her hood.

“What if he wakes up before I get back?” she asked, jerking her chin in the direction of Ridley’s slumped form. “He’ll follow me in a full snit.”

Yanking his handkerchief from his breast pocket, Wells slid off his spectacles. Working the cloth with his thumb, he cleaned one lens then the other. “Science will prevent that for you. Once the capacitors are charged and active, they will allow only one entry and one return. Make sure all those that you round up know that. Once they start through they have to move in a steady stream, a hiccup in the flow of bodies moving through and the portal will close.”

Edging up beside her, Noah’s arm brushed hers. “Don’t be a hero about that,” he grumbled, his voice a gruff growl. “Tell anyone you find to wait for you. Make up something about the portal only working if you lead them through it.”

Wells nodded to Peyton. With practiced synchronization they both clicked the capacitor nearest them to life. The light bulbs flickered before blazing bright. A steady hum, much like flexing metal, seeped from the phonograph horn. Before them, the marsh was ripped in half by a wall of shimmering opalescence. It grew and swelled, casting diamond shapes through the ebbing and flowing gel-like substance. Within it, the curtain to another world opened. One that time and circumstance had not been kind to. Every inch of it painted with a palette of dismal gray.

Filling her lungs, Ireland spun to welcome her totem who galloped in with a chorus of thundering hoofbeats. Regan skidded to a stop in front of her, sending clumps of grass and muck flying. Nostrils flaring, each breath he heaved created white puffs of steam that haloed his magnificent head. His pit bull sidekick leapt from his back and wove between his hooves, her tail wagging hard enough to shake her entire rump.

Ireland toyed with the idea of insisting Reg’s new canine companion stay behind. Ultimately that seemed the crueler fate. All the tawny-colored pup
had
was Regen. He saved her and became her family—her pack. She may deny herself such attachments on this voyage, but she couldn’t do that to them.

Dropping down one knee, Ireland forced a stern mask. “Now when we get there, I’m going to need scary warrior dog. Not happy,
rub my belly
dog. Can you do that?”

Tail whipping side to side, the pooch greeted her with a face full of sloppy kisses.

“Very good,” Ireland chuckled. Gently pushing the dog down, she rose to her feet. “I’m glad we had this talk.”

Tapping the meter on the trunk closest to Ireland, Wells scowled at the reading. “During my time in Roanoke, Weena and I settled into the apartment over the market. You could look for her there first.”

Rip’s floating head materialized over Wells’ shoulder. “Tell him I’m going with you, and I will set out and find her the moment we cross over. I can dissipate and locate her in a matter of seconds. Also, you may wish to inform him that when he knelt down earlier he dipped the end of his neck tie in mud. Actually, on second thought, leave that last part out. That’s not a very awe inspiring message from the beyond, is it?”

Instinctively, Ireland’s mind whirred in search of an excuse for why Rip couldn’t come … and came up empty-handed. He had already faced off with the Grim Reaper and here he was. Truth be told, there was no one better to watch her back.

Before she could respond, Malachi stepped beside her, a twig snapping under his boot. Pulling himself up to full height, his usual stoicism was replaced by unforgiving steel. “I know where to find Weena. I will get her out myself.”

Pivoting on his heel, Wells pulled back in confusion. “How could you possibly know where to find her?”

Adjusting the brim of his bowler cap, Malachi tipped it down to shade his eyes. “I know where she is … because she’s my mother. Which makes you …” He trailed off, allowing Wells the opportunity to fit that final puzzle piece in himself.

“Your father.” Wells sucked in a sharp intake of breath, wincing at the emotional sucker punch.

Granting him nothing more than a nod of confirmation, Malachi dropped his hands to his sides and strode straight into the churning portal without looking back.

Rip’s eyes locked with Ireland’s, panic widening them to goose eggs. “
One entrance, one exit!
Go
!”

“You know that scene in the movies where the cool guy throws a grenade, and then stalks off as it blows up behind him?” Snatching Regen’s reins, Ireland forced her foot into the stirrup and kicked her leg over his back. “What he just did was the emotional equivalent of that.”

Giving the stallion an urgent nudge, she cued him to meet Malachi’s wide strides. The pit bull dashed to keep up, Rip floating alongside. At the edge of the portal, she paused. The hair on her arms rose, coaxed up by the electricity licking at her skin. Glancing over her shoulder, her hood fell back. Her topaz eyes, bright with unshed tears, wrote the sonnets of farewell time had not allowed her.

Pawing at the ground, Regen inched forward a step and the portal enveloped them.